#this is a problem that could be solved with a masterpost or something maybe

[fishnapple]

People's assumptions about you

This reading is about the assumptions people in general have about you. Which might not be true to how you really are.

This is a general reading meant for multiple people. Take only what resonates and leave out the rest.

Your feedback is much appreciated. If you find the reading resonated with you, leave a comment, I’d love to know 🎐

About me | Masterpost

Book a reading with me - KO-FI (→ personal reading)

LILAC

• You have a quiet, mysterious vibe that makes people think you have been through a lot. This kind of being experienced creates a sense of knowing, like nothing can faze you, you have seen enough, the good, the bad, everything in between about life.

• They also assume you wield your power well, you're used to it and you can use it to seduce people or to deter them from getting closer. There's a contradictory feeling about you, on one hand, you seem intense and seductive, on another, you're aloof and impartial. So people think that you just like to appear attractive for the sake of being attractive, not to attract anything or anyone in particular.

• Those who are lucky enough to get into your inner circle will be treated differently, with generous care and intuitive understanding.

• They could think you're from a religious background. Or someone with mixed races and have a diverse religious background.

• They could assume you come from money or are well taken care of.

• You seem to be good at learning, fast thinker, intelligent. No matter how you actually think about your intelligence, people will assume you're smart and don't have trouble solving problems. Maybe you talk fast, have knowledge about a wide variety of subjects or people usually see you learning, researching something, especially about some niche or taboo subjects. This also contributes to your mysterious aura.

• Some could assume you like casual relationships. You revel in social interactions, you can chat anyone up and have some friendly banters with them. You enjoy hanging out with people but you don't want to be involved too deeply with anyone. Your goal in interactions with people is usually to learn something new, to satiate your curiosity. Again, the thought of getting close to you, being considered more special than the rest by you, is a great ego boost to some people.

• You're good at hiding your more unsavoury side. People generally think you're calm and worry-free but some will have a little suspicion that you're hiding your negativity, it's like they can't believe there's actually anyone who has no worry or problem. Especially if you're being anxious about the future, feeling lonely or lost, you won't show it. The people who suspect about this will likely want to dig deep to get to see your problems.

GRAPEFRUIT

• You have a brilliant aura that makes people automatically assume you have it easy in life. Like someone who has been treated so well by life that they are so positive and lighthearted.

• Enthusiastic and mischievous, people will assume you're younger than your actual age.

• You have no problem convincing someone, pulling someone to your side purely by talking and debating. People can see your cleverness and humour clearly.

• People think you have a fast lifestyle, always on the move, rarely at home, never sitting still, don't settle down. They assume you have an extensive travel backlog. Some will want to give you advice about settling down, having a stable family life. Maybe they think you're too young or have too many things going on for you to consider those topics seriously, but you will, in the future.

• Based on your cheerful or carefree demeanour, some will guess you are not well disciplined or are spoiled. They think your upbringing was a little loose and lacked proper guidance, resulting in a freestyle way of living.

• Maybe the way you dress or the things you use will make people think you're careless about money or have a lot to spare. You like shopping, hoarding material possessions and are just generous with your money in general.

• Some could assume you're too easy-going and simple-minded, despite your expression of cleverness, like someone who is easy to be taken advantage of, gullible. Some would want to protect you because of that, others would want to take advantage of that.

• You seem to be well liked and have no trouble getting a date. If you're single, they will just assume that you probably don't want to commit, prefer to stay single by choice, if you want to, people would jump at the chance to date you.

• Some would think you prefer older people for friendship and connections in general, you like to be spoiled and taken care of. But they also can sense that you treasure your friendships greatly, those who can stick to you through thick and thin will be revered and respected by you.

• Some can see you easily getting stressed, over exerting or are afflicted with some illness frequently. They might think to themselves that's the consequences of living a fast life, or you're going through some stressful situations that you don't want to talk about.

PEAR

• Maybe your reputation precedes you. People could form assumptions of you based on what they heard about you, not necessarily from interactions with you. They think that you're really a go-getter, ambitious, if not sometimes ruthless. You act on your impulses and zero in your targets, you get what you want, one way or another. They could feel that being the target of your gaze would equal to being a prey. You could give off a no-nonsense and efficient vibe that won't tolerate misbehaviour and disrespect.

• But they also feel that you put great value on friendship and community bonds. You would be a great leader, a pioneer, a protector of your group.

• The thing is, not many assumptions about your are correct. People could hear or see one aspect of you and proceed to make up a whole story about you. You could be a favourite topic in gossip. Some would put you on a pedestal and can't see you do anything wrong, while some would be so ready to find any dirt about you to make you seem less than ideal.

• Some would assume you have unique dreams that you want to achieve. Those that normal people won't understand or sympathise with. You're on your own road, doing your own things. People think you're really daring, you won't sit contentedly with what you're having, you're not afraid to upset the status quo. If you find a new inspiration, a new objective, you will be ready to pack your bag and get up and go, leaving behind everything you have achieved. In a less dramatic sense, people sense that you have the ability to let go, to search for a new horizon without attachment to the past.

• Speaking of the past, some would think that you're a nostalgic person. Some hobbies and favourite things of yours are those of the past. You might still keep doing or enjoying something that you had done when you were a child. Childhood could be your soft spot, the one thing that you guard so fiercely.

• They feel that you come from a traditional family with parents in their traditional roles. And somehow, you don't want to follow their footsteps, you want to rebel, to challenge that system. You might want to stay single and independent, focusing on yourself rather than family and partnership.

• If you ever get into a partnership, people think that would involve some deals and terms, something beneficial that is worthwhile of your effort. You approach every partnership like a business one, negotiating the terms, striking a deal, exchanging of values.

CHERRY

• People think you're in a purging period. You're not satisfied with your current life and the direction it's going. It's like you've reached a plateau, you need to find a new direction, a new way of living your life. And people think you're really brave for that intention, you're not afraid to discard unnecessary things, old thinking patterns, limited beliefs. You're willing to give yourself a makeover. Fears seem to not faze you at all, there seem to be no emotional turmoil. You act with your instincts and your heart's desire, charging forward.

• But people don't think you're a flaky, changeable person. You only change when your life demands it, your ultimate goal is stability and a stronger foundation.

• On the topic of instincts, some people feel you're really spontaneous in love. You fall in love easily, suddenly, with the naivete of a child. You love being in love, you don't take into consideration other practical matters surrounding a relationship, you just jump in for the pure bliss of romance.

• They would guess that you're usually the one doing the pursuing and confessing first. There could be a pattern in the people you're attracted to or a pattern in your relationships. Some would think, quietly, that you might be not aware of some deeper aspects within yourself, manifesting as these patterns. Like a certain part of you is repressed or neglected, so you seek that part in the other person.

• But in general, people think you have a lot of love to give. Your brave heart is undeniable.

• Other than romance, people also think that you're artistic and creative. Your ideas are unique and refreshing, some could be a little too grand, too far reaching. Some could guess that your job involves this kind of artistic talent.

• The way you act makes some feel that you're being sheltered by the people around you, like a precious child being protected by the community. But there's no envy or negative emotion here, they just observe that and can understand by themselves why you're like that. There's a honesty, a purity of thoughts in the way you express yourself and the way you share with people. They think you deserve that kind of good treatment.

• Also, due to that perceived honesty, some would feel comfortable confiding in you, they trust that you would keep their secrets for them.

GOLD

• The first thing people would assume about you is that you love hanging out with people, socialising, and having superficial fun with anyone you come across. You seem lighthearted like an excited kid in the middle of a carnival, wanting to see everything, to taste everything.

• People also think you like to shine, to feel seen and applauded. You're gregarious and seem to have no difficulty being yourself in front of a crowd. A bright confidence. Some would assume you like to be in a crowd because you like the attention. But most just assume you're friendly and have an extrovert nature.

• A few would try to guess the base of your desire to mingle with people. They think you're lonely or are sad about something, and you want to soothe that feeling by being with people, seeking the warmth of others. But most people don't seem to think too deeply about your nature, some would even find it hard to believe you're having some emotional turmoil inside.

• Some with a more suspicious nature might think you like to use joke and sarcasm to mask your insecurities and the difficulties you're having in your life. They think you're running away from the problems, trying to stay positive while a future disaster is pressing on your nerves. They think you need to change something or to be more brave in taking a new endeavour. It's not malicious though, they want to help and support you because they think you have potential.

• Right now, you seem to be pretty settled down with your life, doing things routinely, repeating days after days, like a drill. Some think that you're running in circles, wasting your time by immersing in the mundane details of other people's lives while refusing to look further for your own life. Or they assume your work requires that kind of lifestyle. You seem like a busybee, moving, talking constantly.

• People would assume based on your outgoing nature and the carefree way you show yourself, you have an active and passionate sex life. Your sexuality might be the question lots of people have in mind. Some would assume you can be quite dominant and aggressive in bed.

HONEY

• The assumptions about you would change a lot with time. Each period of your life will be accompanied by different assumptions from people. Could be that with each period, you are in a different environment with different types of people. So their values and beliefs would be different. Consequently, their assumptions about you and everything around them in general would be different. But the common point between these assumptions is that, they usually don't reflect your true self very well, people would likely be surprised when they get closer to you.

• At first glance, they assume that you're very passionate and full of ardour. You're optimistic and like to believe in a bright future, regardless of your current situation.

• People would think that you're a relationship person. Another group also has a passionate and confident air about them when it comes to love and romance, but yours is softer and feels more mature. People think you don't chase love, but by being so intensely you, you attract love wherever you go.

• They would assume that being love by you would be an unforgettable experience, the kind of love that is so pure and nurturing, where you can put your heart out into the open. Some people would fall for your perceived ability to love. Your potential of being a lover.

• Right now, you seem to focus more on securing material comfort and building a foundation for yourself rather than focusing on relationships. You can be perceived as a very hardworking person, to the point of being a workaholic. The people who want to approach you think you don't have time for them. You completely committed yourself to your work and study. Determined to be stable and thriving.

• Money and material possessions might be a source of comfort for you. They think you would try everything to achieve that, even using some tricks or personal talents to help you get ahead. Nothing too serious or negative though, they just feel that you have a knack for completing tasks faster, skillful and flexible.

• If someone knows more about your upbringing and the traditional values surrounding it, they would assume that the you right now is rebelling against those values. It's like you've reinvented yourself anew, away from the old values that no longer resonate with you. You could have been disillusioned by them, a naive believer. But now you stand on your own, find and build your own set of values. You could change your jobs, your studies, your living places because of that.

[redflagshipwriter]

Mamabat- enter Jason 1/2

MASTERPOST

The air was different with Cass, now. Danny felt a little anxious as he followed her to the study after breakfast. Something about her was serious-determined-protective. 

She always felt protective towards him. That was why he'd followed her in the first place. Some ghosts lied, but they couldn't do it with their aura. He knew what she really felt for him. 

“Sit?” She asked him. She gestured at the big squashy chair. Danny did without complaint. Cass perched behind him and started dragging her fingers through his hair, relaxing him.

Man. She was good at this. Top tier mothering, right here. Danny went limp. 

“I'm worried,” Cass broke the silence. She didn't sound worried. She never really did. Her voice was quiet and serious, but still kind. Her thumbs dug into his scalp. He pushed his head back against it. Bliss. “Barbara made you sad. Because you miss your sister?”

Danny tensed. 

‘I should have figured that Batman would track me down.’

Maybe he had known, if he was honest with himself. It didn't hit him like a shock.

“Tim thinks your name is Fenton,” she added, brutally sensible as always. And yup, that was it. No point in denying it. “Declared dead. In danger?”

He sucked in air through his teeth. He wasn't going to lie to her. 

“Worried,” she repeated. 

He thought about it. He really did. Danny bit his lip. 

She was liminal. That probably meant she'd come really close to death, in at least one sense of the word. Would that mean she was desensitized to it, or extra paranoid?

…It was hard to imagine Cass over or under reacting to a possible danger. She was just so steady. But would she see him as a possible danger if she knew what he was, what he really was? 

He could feel it out before he took a plunge with the whole truth.

Maybe it was wrong. Maybe it was invasive. She didn't seem to realize that she was liminal. That meant she definitely didn't realize how much she was communicating to him under her words and gestures. 

But Danny deliberately tuned into her quiet aural communication and tested the waters. “Tim is right, I'm Danny Fenton,” he said. He knew he was too tense. She would definitely feel it. But what could he do about that? He was nervous. “I… Maybe I did die.”

Her heart dropped to her stomach. He could feel the crush of grief on her heart. 

But it didn’t wash away the thudding repetition of love-protect-my darling. There was no suspicion, no guilt, no fear. It was just pain for his sake, with no calculation about how to solve a sudden problem. 

God. He wanted so badly for that to have been how his parents reacted. His eyes started to sting.

Danny sniffled. He thought it was safe to tell her. “I died,” he corrected, and he knew he was right when Cass made a little wounded sound and leaned her body into him, aiming to comfort. “Not then, but a couple years ago. I’m different now, and it’s uh… It’s dangerous to be this way.”

“Affects?” Cass asked quietly. She started to pet his hair again. “Mood? Health?”

“...Huh,” he said, because that was a sensible question he hadn’t expected. If he really thought about his mood and emotions before and after the accident: “Yeah, uh, there’s sometimes a mood thing. I might be a little more aggressive than I was before? And I can get kind of intense sometimes.”

He had thought that was basically just a reaction to having a whole bunch of new threats in his life. But would pre-electrocution Danny have been able to actually stand and fight Skulker? He had genuinely been afraid of the jocks. Maybe… Maybe he was different. Sure, Sam and Jazz were up for shooting ghosts with Fenton tech. Would he have been if he was just human? 

…He didn’t really think so.

Oof. Well, that wasn’t exactly great for his sense of self.

Cass shook him lightly. “Health?” she repeated.

Danny forced down that revelation to deal with later. He didn’t like acknowledging that he was kind of a chicken by nature, but historically, there wasn’t much evidence of bravery pre-mortem. “Uh, my heart rate is really slow, body temp is low, so I can’t really afford to go to a doctor for a checkup,” he said. “Uh, sometimes I’ve got none at all and my hair turns white.” He paused there. That was- that was enough, yeah? He was going to be honest with her because she deserved honesty from him. But that didn’t mean he had to explain the whole great beyond and his inhuman status.

“Sounds like Jason,” Cass said, after a long silence.

Danny short-circuited. “Wait, what?” He craned to look at her. “Who?”

Cass darted forward to kiss his forehead. “Little brother,” she said cheerfully. “Want to meet him?”

Uh, yeah. Danny nodded vigorously, wondering what the hell she was on about. “Do you mean he died?” 

“Died,” Cass agreed, getting out her phone and tapping away at it rapidly.

“Not like, heart stopped for a minute on the operating table and he was revived, or what?” Danny pressed.

“Dead in the ground, came back later,” Cass said. “Dead for months. Now, very crabby.”

Danny balked. “What?”

“White hair too,” she said. Then her face did something funny. “I think he dyed it recently,” she said. 

Danny huffed a laugh. “If it’s the same thing as mine, you can’t dye it.” He saw her look over his head for white streaks. He didn’t correct her line of thought.

He hadn’t thought that anything could top the anticipation of meeting Batman. But Danny had to admit the rest of the day was a wash. Apparently Jason couldn’t make it until the evening, about an hour before patrol.

Danny nearly paced a line into the carpet. He had enough energy to do that now, even without ecto. He was getting soooo much food here. A guy couldn’t even stress out for an hour without someone coming by to make sure he had fruit and yogurt or a hot drink.

He didn’t need someone to come and tell him that the much anticipated Jason had shown up. Danny knew it when he went to take a sip of cruelty-free chocolate milk (hand delivered by the most frightening child in the world) and choked on vapor.

Damian gave him a glare and snatched the drink away. “Are you incapable of drinking beverages?” he demanded. His face looked so goddamn cross but he was just worried.

Danny managed a smile. “No, went down the wrong pipe, sorry.”

Damian didn’t seem to even see the fog, so- so that meant that either he was really unobservant or he wasn’t liminal enough to see it the way people did in Amity. That was a small blessing. Danny appreciated it and he took back his drink to have something to hold onto.

That was a whole ass ghost. That was a whole ghost coming onto the property, one that felt big and mad and old. Danny smacked his lips, disconcerted. 

He, uh, didn’t know what to expect from this.

[brujamala-aka-gigi]

your ideal partner is like...

On this pick a pile reading, im focusing on positive traits to take into consideration when wondering if someone is worth putting your time and energy into a committed relationship. This is not meant to be strict guideline of arbitrarily imposed "must have's" to look for, but more of an opportunity to reflect on what could be beneficial to your ideas of a healthy relationship.

dividers by @chilumitos

pile one pile two pile three

‧͙˚ *༓ scroll down for the readings ⋆ִ ‧͙⁺˚

masterpost ✶ pac readings ✶ tarot menu

✶ ko-fi page (support and tarot services) ✶

˚˖𓍢ִ໋ ✧ pile number one ˚.⋆

I get the feeling that you value certain aspects of relationships that could be considered “traditional” or ��old school”, but not necessarily the ones that are limiting to your sense of identity or your will. I think you find value in things that bring peace of mind and comfort due to being structured in a way that feels natural and balanced, or at least aim to provide those qualities into your life. In your case, I feel like commitment in any sort of union is something you value a lot, specially because you have a deep understanding of your own individuality which involves wanting to connect with someone who is just as conscious as you are, and just as willing to bring out the best in you as you are willing to do so for them. 

Your ideal partner is someone who wants a certain level of structure in their lives, but also wants to find opportunities to experience child-like wonder. This is a person who is patient, and knows that building strong foundations in the relationship is the best way possible to ensure that both of you get to be joyful together. A key aspect here is that you look for someone who shares your values, not because they aspire to them, but because they live by them even if their lives are completely different to yours. Maybe your life experiences of the past might not be similar, but what’s important is that your ideals and aspirations are the middleground where you are both capable of nurturing a genuine connection. Both of these cards show me that you are determined to achieve harmony in a way that you consider both practical and fulfilling, and yet you are not willing to sacrifice your individual aspirations. Therefore, whoever is meant for you, needs to embrace the way in which you decide to nurture a relationship.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋ ✧ pile number two ˚.⋆

This combination of cards is telling me that you are someone who has coherent reasons to be slightly afraid of vulnerability. You have been in places where your honesty and your vulnerability have been misunderstood as weaknesses and treated as such. Nobody deserves to be hurt because of such noble traits. What's relevant here is that you are cautious with who gets access to your truest self, which is not that bad, but from time to time your anxiety in regards to vulnerability might be something that makes it more difficult to find true connections with others. It is hard to know who will value your genuine ways of living and expressing your feelings if you never try to do so, if you never give people the opportunity to show if they are worthy of you being in tune with your sensitive essence.

Your ideal partner is someone who is not only empathetic, but also someone who is willing to put effort into building a sense of trust within the relationship. Whoever wants to love you, needs to understand your healing process and willfully put in the work so you feel secure with them. I'm talking about a person who values having the difficult conversations instead of running away from the issues or hiding anything that could turn into a problem. This is someone who shows their loyalty by either being helpful or being a good company. You can be very introspective and mindful of your issues, you are too used to solve problems on your own. These are amazing qualities that can be nourished when you engage with a person who is willing to learn when you need help,when you need company and when you need your own space. Finding out who has this characteristics is only possible if you find the peace of mind and the confidence to approach vulnerability in a way that gets you out of your comfort zone without getting hurt.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋ ✧ pile number three ˚.⋆

Well, I can’t lie here, these cards are giving me a subtle “opposites attract” type of scenario. Which doesn’t mean that you should go and look for someone who is nothing like you, but it does mean that maybe you should consider your own virtues and defects and how they can be complemented by a partner, while also thinking on how you compliment them. This is not only about superficial compatibility, but more so about both of you being able to rely on each other and able to ask for help. From what I see, it’s most likely your ideal partner is someone who shares a similar life path to yours, but they have an entirely different set of skills. Having shared objectives and aspirations is something quite valuable, especially if both of you are equally as committed to them.  

What I see from an ideal partner in your case, it's this passionate approach to almost everything. It is not a kind of passion that comes from a need to fill a void in their lives, it is the kind of passion that comes from a deep sense of responsibility and consciousness in regards to their own lives. This is a person who sees the value of their journeys and is able to be truthful and fair with their approach to new experiences because they want to remain aligned to their honest desires. They are fully aware of what they can and can’t do, but what’s interesting about them is that they also see value in creating dynamic ways to work around that. You need to find someone who respects you enough to allow themselves to ask you for help, but are also willing to help you too. A key thing to consider when thinking of an ideal partner is the sort of enhancements made possible by a connection where both genuinely respect and admire each other, without idealizations that could harm the relationship.

hey there! i hope this reading was useful or at least entertaining for someone <3 if you did enjoy it, don't hesitate to check out my other P.A.C readings i think they're also kinda fun??

anyways, big updates (maybe not too big)

i set up a ko-fi (finally, ik, im sorry, many people told me to do so but apparently i had to drop out uni to find the time to do it lmao actually not funny btw i dropped out to focus on my work because economic crisis, fuck you javier milei, i work on a tarot reading app btw but i cant disclose it or share my profile from the app idk why)

I FINALLY CAN TAKE PICTURES OF MY CARDS !!!!! (they are still samsung phone quality but they are expensive samsung phone quality ok) so yeah things are going to look prettier i guess??? maybe i'll do videos someday??

im also working on a posting schedule and taking this blog more seriously because i missed tumblr so much tbh and i need a way of sharing the beauty of tarot thats not literally too close to working a 9 to 5 call center job (i love my job tho, but working in tarot apps is... interesting) . i love this site so much, i was literally raised by it at this point (i feel like an elder user because i've been here since 13 and im 23, i saw gen z underage people calling 25 year olds "uncle" online and honestly i cant even be mad about it because if any gen z calls me an auntie i wont go against it, i've been on my single auntie patty and selma vibes since forever tbh and im technically gen z too?? )

last big update: i got a kinda fun and silly oracle deck which i will be using for an ask game eventually.

masterpost ✶ pac readings ✶ ko-fi page ✶

⋆bookings for personal readings are open ཐིཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

[lazycranberrydoodles]

its prosecutor jiang wanyin!!!! oh fuck!!! / gifs + au rambling below the cut / follow for more mdzs x aa crossover stuff :3

all the gifs i made (poses traced off franziska):

hes so similar to franziska when you think about it. theyre both deeply insecure tsundere adoptive younger sibling of successful main characters. who carry whips. something something edgeworth choosing death and wwx actually dying also

his share code is HWFEFF if you wanna use him in a trial! you can't share backgrounds but heres the scenery from the donghua i used.

the easiest way to put custom stuff into objection.lol is to send it in discord and then use the link from opening it in your browser :)

a whole lot of AU stuff

the art im making is for if mdzs was an ace attorney game, playing from WWX's POV to solve various mysteries/cases over the course of the plot. so this scene would be from turnabout goddess, which would loosely cover the dafan mountain mystery.

cases include:

Turnabout Revenge (Mo Manor, quick introductory first case)

Turnabout Goddess (Dafan mountain, the good times flashback)

Turnabout Saber (the man-eating castle (omg hiii nhs))

The Blind Turnabout (Yi City arc)

Turnabout Deviation (the Koi Tower conference, Empathy on NMJ ala turnabout memories or beginnings. opening cutscene is his qi deviation)

The Blood-Soaked Turnabout (second Burial Mounds siege, flashbacks: Xuanwu, Sunshot, YLLZ, Nightless City massacre)

Turnabout Lotus Seeds (testimony about JGY, tree scene, golden core reveal, bathtub scene. opening cutscene could be JGS' death but that would make it canon rather than ambiguous)

Turnabout Confession (Guanyin temple)

the problem with splitting novel!mdzs into turnabouts is that flashbacks are a huge chunk of the book but they don't have mysteries/ cases to solve so they've gotta be lumped together with present day stuff. imo? many of the flashbacks would likely have to be abridged so they could be retold ala DL-6, SL-9, or the fourth grade incident, where characters talk about it over some pieces of art. this is really difficult when theres a metric ton of unspoken, complex, and signifcant history between every character lmao

there's not as much of a problem with the cql timeline but i have not finished it. so.

the opening cutscenes in ace attorney always show the murder and/or the murderer plotting. the first cutscene of the game would be MXY summoning WWX, muttering about getting revenge on his family (it would also be good for him to mention the yllz being dead because that's how the novel starts.) cut to WWX's POV as he wakes up covered in blood and the investigation segment begins.

for investigations of monsters (goddess, saber, etc) the cutscene would be a scene of some poor throwaway cultivator getting their shit wrecked.

it would be cool to make a breakdown for JGY but again I need to review that scene cause I don't know who I'd base him on. maybe Vasquez or Dahlia.

tell me your thoughts!! i'm working off of a mdzs summary/ skimming the novel because i don't remember it too well so if i get anything wrong please yell at me

Jin Ling's sprites & Nie Huaisang's sprites / masterpost

[1didofest]

1D I Do Fest - Masterpost 2024

Thank you to everyone who supported the fest and to all the authors who gifted us with these wonderful stories.

Twist of Fate by @freakingmeout28 / freakingmeout

Some marriages don't start with love… When his parents tell Harry that they expect him to marry Louis Tomlinson he's more than just against it, he hates them for thinking it would magically solve all his problems and make him their dream son. Louis on the other side isn't keen to marry someone like Harry either, but since it's his only way to save his family's name, he goes for it. Against their own will they get married and are sent on a honeymoon together where they don't have a chance to avoid each other. Their marriage doesn't start with love, but while Louis helps Harry fighting his alcohol addiction they find something in the other that they both needed. Through trials and tribulations, their bond strengthens, transcending the confines of tradition to blossom into a profound love story of resilience and redemption. A story for the 1D I Do fest, a very free interpretation of the following prompt: Arranged marriage, enemies to lovers, preferably larry, forced proximity. Sent on a honeymoon but it’s at the room in the Maldives thats in the middle of the ocean only accessed by boat. Featuring sharing of beds, secret pining, awkward morning wood, arguments but you cannot escape the other.

Guess What by @elmeiko88 / Elmeiko88

Harry should have done a better job of checking out the restaurant where he had decided to get down on one knee.

We Should Be Shooting For Them Stars Of Gold by @babyhoneyheslt / babyhoneyhslt

To make his dream of becoming a tour photographer come true, Harry reluctantly agrees to marry his annoying ex. Louis Tomlinson might be a big name in the music industry, but his reputation needs some polish. Neither of them expects this to end well, but maybe a two week honeymoon in the Maldives can change everything.

Who would have guessed? by SweetieR

“So why don’t we just shag?” “Like what? Like an enemies with benefits kinda shit?” blue eyes lit up in amusement, “Is that even a thing?” Harry shrugged. “It could be.” “But they always end up married when that happened in movies.” Louis made a face, clearly disgusted at the idea. “Don’t worry Louis,” Harry said, shaking his head in amusement. “I’m never ever gonna marry you.” “Trust me, the feeling is very mutual, Styles.” and then, “You’re only like an advanced sex toy.” Harry laughed at that, a genuine laugh. “Look at that.” he elbowed him, “We’re already agreeing on something.” Or - Prompt 2 / “It’s funny how I said I’d never marry you but here we are.”

he bought a ring (and he found the one) by @thefootnotes / whateverthecalamity

All Harry has ever wanted was the big white wedding with someone he loves; and he thinks he’s finally landed on it. That is, until a certain pair of bright blue eyes are looking up from the back of the chapel. Or the one where Harry Styles is looking for marriage, Louis Tomlinson is looking for closure, and both find something unexpected.

If I could Fly by @super--noah / SuperNoah

Just around the one year anniversary of their fake getting back together date, and what most people believe is their three year anniversary Louis has planned to pop the big question for real. It's his first evening off in several weeks and him and Harry had a date night planned. Plans change when Louis returns home to see Harry looking stressed about going out. Even if the evening has a few more non-happy tears than planned, the question is asked and answered. Which is how Harry and Louis ends up spending the summer holidays arguing over colours and food choices. Disagreements, hardship and tears eventually leads to I Do's and more, but very welcome, tears.

[echo-goes-mmm]

Ambrose and Elliot #13

Masterpost

Previous

Next

Warnings: implied past torture

Ambrose didn’t want to get up. His bed was too warm and cozy and the world outside was too cold and sad. And he wasn’t sure how to tackle last night’s… situation. He dealt with a lot of… uncomfortable problems before, but handling a murder was far simpler than Elliot’s complicated and frankly horrific history. 

 Ambrose needed to get ahead of it. Sooner rather than later. 

He slipped out from underneath the covers, and pulled on some warmer clothes. The weather had cooled off more than expected. 

Elliot was by his door with a mug of chamomile tea. Just how Ambrose liked it. And the bathrobe Elliot had borrowed hung on the coat rack. Definitely sooner than later.

Ambrose took the mug from Elliot. 

“Thank you, love. Have you eaten breakfast?” asked Ambrose. He dug through his dresser, looking for some more clothes Elliot could borrow. 

“Yes, sir. Bread with butter and jam.”

“Good job,” He handed Elliot the change of clothes. “How about you wear these? Katie should have something for you later today, but you should get something clean right now.”

“Yes, sir.” Elliot began to pull off his shirt.

“No, I mean… How about you change and I’ll go get something to eat. I’ll meet you downstairs, alright?” Elliot paused.

“Um. Okay.”

Off to a good start. Or at least, a better start. How did Elliot know how Ambrose took his tea? Hmm. He needed to be more observant. It wasn’t a particularly harmful practice, but it was the principle of the thing. 

One day at a time, he told himself. You can’t take care of everything at once.

Bread with butter and jam did sound pretty good.

Elliot came downstairs as Ambrose was finishing up.

“Good idea on breakfast. And thank you for the tea, it was kind of you to make it for me. You don’t have to do that if you don’t want to.” Elliot flushed a little, and the twitch of his mouth told Ambrose that was the right move. 

“I’m sorry for yelling at you last night. I shouldn’t have.” He took a long sip of the tea, focusing on the way it warmed him, the scent, the taste. He thought over what to say next.

“Yesterday, when I said we could relax, I meant we didn’t have any work to do. That we could spend time however we wanted. I didn’t mean to imply anything.”

Elliot looked down at the table, as if being chastised. That wasn’t ideal, but right now Ambrose needed to tackle the big problems.

“I’m sorry, sir. I’ll do better. Is… is there another way I can be helpful to you?” 

Redirecting Elliot’s nervous energy couldn’t hurt. Maybe having something to do could prevent another… incident. Like a distraction.

“Well… I suppose there are a few chores that would go faster with some help. If you don't mind, of course.”

Elliot’s eyes lit up. 

As they worked through the day, Ambrose noticed that Elliot seemed more confident in his movements. Cheerful, even. And his strength was returning. He could carry more wood to the shed, he walked without a sway or stumble, and he only needed a break once more than Ambrose. Good.

Elliot was practically delighted to dust the windows (which Ambrose hadn’t gotten to yesterday), and jumped at the chance to help prepare that night's dinner. Why? What was so special about being ordered around like a-

Oh.

Elliot had been someone’s slave. He’d probably been told exactly what to do at all times. Ambrose wasn’t distracting him with tasks at all. Elliot wasn't just compelled to obey, wasn't just nervous without directions, he had a conditioned need to be useful, and Ambrose had told him how.

Last night was a direct result of Ambrose unintentionally letting him stew in uncertainty for the past week. He was taking initiative, because Ambrose didn’t. He’d latched on to an otherwise innocuous comment because it gave him an in. A purpose. 

Fuck. 

He couldn’t just tell Elliot “everything you’ve been taught is wrong and your purpose in life is to be happy”, as if that would magically solve his problems. 

But Elliot was happy, right now, anyway. Ambrose wasn’t going to take that from him. 

It’s not like Elliot had any hobbies. What was Ambrose supposed to tell him? ‘Sit alone in your room and do nothing?’

After all, Ambrose built Hearthwood just to have something to do. He liked working; he didn’t need the money. People in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones. Sure, Elliot’s enthusiasm came from fear, but maybe in the long term, Ambrose could help him mold it into a more positive thing. 

Baby steps.

___________________

Master Ambrose had given him chores. The sheer relief soothed his mind like a balm. He could sink back into thoughtlessness and Ambrose would care about him like his old master never had. 

And this new rule- ‘no sex’- lifted a weight in his chest Elliot didn’t know he had. 

Elliot cleaned the windows until they sparkled. He helped carry more wood to the shed, and Ambrose was so pleased with him. 

It was so simple. The world was too complicated for a thing like Elliot, and now he didn’t have to deal with it. Just do as Ambrose says. And Ambrose didn’t need complicated seduction or entertainment. He just needed some chores done. Crushing dried spices for Ambrose was infinitely better than getting the whip for his Master’s amusement.

There was a tiny part of him that was still waiting for the other shoe to drop. Ambrose still hadn’t punished him. Maybe it was because Elliot hadn’t technically broken any rules yet. 

What would happen if he did? What kind of Master was Ambrose? Elliot was on a very long leash, but maybe that leniency meant a severe punishment in return. After all, breaking a rule that was so generous would be a terrible offense. He could imagine how it would go: I’ve been so good to you, and this is how you repay me? Ambrose would take the price of his kindness out of Elliot’s hide, and the leash he was on would grow shorter.

But it was a small part of him, and it was ignorable. 

Katie had dropped off most of his new clothes, and Jennifer and her siblings and delivered the furniture. His room looked really nice now, and Katie had even given him a new green and blue blanket as a present. It was so warm, and he loved it.

Ambrose had been smiling at him all day. After months of no guiding light, he was the sun. 

Elliot hadn’t believed him when Master said everything would be okay, but he did now. 

As long as he didn’t mess it up.

taglist: @cupcakes-and-pain @secretwhumplair @paintedpigeon1 @whump-blog @whump-em @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @starfields08000

[iruinn]

baby, you're the sweetest thing ❀ nanami kento

chapter 1

cw : none that apply

wc : 2603

masterpost

Your friend’s sweater wrinkles in your hand as you hang onto it in desperation, holding him in place as he obstinately tries to walk away from you, unwilling to bend to your will.

“Gojo, please! it's not that ridiculous a request! It’s only for a week!”

“A week of pretending to be, what, your boyfriend? I have been dating a man for so long its going to be a struggle to pretend to be attracted to a woman, love.”

You groan, letting go of the back of his sweater and run around him, stopping him in his path and mustering up the most pleading expression you can manage.

“I’m not asking for straight on PDA, just…”

He watches as you fiddle with the hem of your shirt, clearly panicked. Guilt rushes through him and he sighs, steering you to the couch and putting his arm around you, ruffling up your hair.. It’s not that he was fully against pretending to be your date at your sister’s wedding, especially since he knew that you would definitely have a hard time with it. But the timing was terrible. Not to mention that you and him were definitely more like siblings than anything else, and he wasn’t sure how good of a charade he could put up.

“You know I don’t want to actually leave you alone there among the wolves, right? I’m surprised you’re actually even going in the first place…”

You frown, thinking. “I absolutely don’t want to go, but that’s still my younger sister, you know. Even though she’s marrying him…I know we’ve never really gotten along-” At this, he snorts, and you hit his chest, knowing that he was thinking something rude, and you continue “It’d look pretty bad if I don’t show up. It’s going to be hell but I promised my dad too.”

“I’d tell you to stop caring about your family because they haven’t really treated you like they should, but I know you won’t listen to me, will you?” He sighs when you shake your head, shrugging.

“Your sister picked the worst time to get married. She had to do it the week of my kids’ finals?”

“I’m pretty sure she’s been planning this for months, Satoru. They got engaged quite a while ago. It’s going to be disgustingly lavish.”

He scrunches his nose and you giggle, your laughter fading when you realize that this puts you back at square one with no date.

“Maybe I can fall down a flight of stairs before the wedding. They’re not going to expect me to show up with a broken leg, right?”

“You’re not going to break a limb for your stupid sister’s wedding, (name). I’ll come up with something, don’t worry.”

Silence permeates your small living room again as you both sit there, bouncing off ideas and names off each other.

“Maybe I can tell them I’m a lesbian now. I’m already halfway there, and it’s believable enough that my last relationship ruined me for men.” “That still doesn’t solve the problem of you not having a date.”

“What about taking someone else? I’m sure Shoko-” “Have you MET Shoko? There’s no way she’s agreeing to spend 2 days among annoying rich people with me and you know it!”

“Maybe Geto?” “I love you but I’m not willing to let my boyfriend pretend to be your lover for a whole week. Try again.” “Possessive brat. It was worth a shot…”

“Wait, I got it. I’ll just hire someone off the streets, it’ll be just like that movie with Julia Roberts!” “Pretty Woman, you uncultured raccoon. And are you actively trying to get murdered now? I’m not letting you pick up a possible creep!”

You throw your hands up in annoyance, at your wits end. “Fine then! Maybe I should just go alone and be pathetic and alone while my sister gets married and starts the life that should have been mine, right?” To your horror, you feel yourself getting choked up and you gulp, willing it away. You’ve cried out all those tears a while ago and you didn’t want to start again, knowing deep down that it was for the better anyway.

Gojo wraps his arms around you, in an attempt to get you to calm down and you bury your head in his shoulder, angry at the world and at yourself for just not putting your foot down and saying no for once.

“Hey, hey it’s gonna be fine, okay! I’ll talk to Shoko and we’ll figure something out, you know we always do. If worse comes to worse I’ll try to rope in Geto to accompany you…But we’re getting you to this wedding looking fabulous with a hot man or woman on your arm, okay?”

You sniff, wiping your nose on his shirt. “You sure you don’t want to show up as my hot sugar baby? We’d be a very attractive fake couple.”

“It’s cute that you think you’d be able to afford me. But no, I don’t think that would work out. If only there was someone else…”

He stills suddenly, and you look up at him questioningly.

“That might work, actually…”

“What? What is it?”

He grabs the wedding invitation thrown onto the table, scribbling down the RSVP and putting a check next to the bold “+1” box. He shoves the invitation onto your chest, and you grab onto it, bewildered.

“I need to go talk to Shoko! Right now!”

He stands up and grabs your shoulder, excited. “You’re going to this wedding with a date, (name). Mark my fucking words.” Not waiting for a reply, he strides out, waving over his shoulder as you stare at his back, glancing back down at the piece of paper in your hands, the words almost mocking you.

‘You are cordially invited to the joyous union of Seiko Morita and…’

The atmosphere in the cafe is cosy and cheerful, quiet whispers of conversation ringing out around you as you sip on a coffee, waiting. Your fake boyfriend is late, you grumble, and you consider texting Gojo to ask where he was. You’re a bit suspicious about the entire situation, as Gojo had almost too gleefully told you that he found someone to pretend to be your boyfriend for the wedding, and that it was one of his friends. He didn’t give you any more information, much to your annoyance, and just asked you to go to your regular cafe at a specified time and that you’d meet the mystery man there. You hope that it isn’t some weird prank he decided to play on you. (Even though you knew that this wasn’t really a humorous situation as far as you were concerned, and Gojo definitely knew that, you still wouldn’t put it past him.)

You stretch in your seat, warming your fingers on your cup as you wait, your eyes roving over the people in the cafe. 10 more minutes pass, and you’re about to pull out your phone to call Gojo when the door to the cafe opens with a slam, a tall man in a suit in almost walking into a person leaving the cafe. You watch the other person grumble in annoyance and giggle as they move away, bringing him into view. Your breath leaves your lungs as you instantly recognize him, and shrink down in your seat, hoping he doesn’t notice you.

Just your luck for Nanami Kento of all people to walk into the cafe right as when you’re meeting your fake date!

Wait a second.

“He wouldn’t. He fucking wouldn’t.” You hiss to yourself as Nanami looks around the place, clearly searching for someone and his eyes fall on you. He brightens up visibly, and walks towards you with clear purpose. You steel yourself, willing your heart to stay strong as you wave at him.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad. Maybe it really was just a coincidence and he just happened to frequent this cafe and he recognised you from 4 months ago. I mean, there was absolutely no way Shoko and Gojo thought Kento would agree to be your fake date, right?

You knew you weren’t going to be that lucky when he sits down opposite you.

“Ms. Morita, right?”

Groaning, your head falls onto the table. “You’re my fake date to the wedding from hell?” You were going to kill Gojo.

You hear him chuckle. “How are you, (name)? It’s been a few months since we last met, that night.”

You tilt your head up, your cheek still pressed against the table. He looks amused at your position and you feel your cheeks warming at the memory of your first and only meeting until this very day.

“It has been…” You sit up straight again, fiddling with your hair. “Gojo let you know about my situation?”

He nods. “He did. I’ll admit, I was wary at the prospect of going along with any half baked plans of his but when he said it was you that needed it..” He clears his throat. His cheeks are mildly red. “I needed a vacation anyway from work.”

“And you picked a wedding full of strangers accompanying a person you barely know for it? I’m pretty sure you can get a better vacation easily, Kento.”

The light from the cafe window glints across his glasses, and he leans closer to you. “Let’s just say I owe Gojo a favor for something and this is me paying him back.” You shuffle closer to the table, staring into his eyes. “Unless you don’t want me to accompany you, of course.”

You startle, breaking out of your fugue. “No! No, I’d be glad to have you along, I mean..look at you. Anyone would be happy to introduce you to their parents…”

Nanami smiles, clearly amused. “Anyone, huh.”

“Being objective here…” You pout. “You’re sure you want to do this? My family can get…overwhelming. Unpleasant sometimes. And the situation is really less than ideal…”

He reaches out across the table and holds your hand, and you smile at him. You think he can tell its shaky, the way his thumbs rubs gently across your fingers. “I can handle it, (name). We can flesh out the details, and I’ll be the perfect fake boyfriend.”

You nod at him, gripping his hand back. The size of it encompasses yours, and as you watch him across the table, you gulp silently. You think the wedding week is going to be torturous for more reasons than one.

4 months ago….

Shoko lounges on your bed as you rummage through your closet, batting aside a dress you throw at her.

“Can you just pick out an outfit already?” She’s impatient, scrolling through her messages. “We’re late already, and you look good in almost everything!”

You whirl around, your hair wild. “I didn’t even know I had so many outfits! I need to spring clean my apartment someday..”

“If I know you well, which I do, you are never cleaning out that closet. I’m pretty sure you’d be able to find another world in it if you look closely enough in there.”

She gets up, reaching into your messy closet and pulling out a dress, a short black number, shoving it into your arms. “Your ass looks good in this one, so put it on and let’s get going already. We’ve been pregaming already and I want to be mildly coherent at least until we get there.”

Shoko ignores your grumbling, tapping her toes impatiently as you pull it on. You turn around, twisting your body to catch a glimpse of your ass as she grabs you by the shoulder, rushing you out of the room.

She was right. Your ass did look great in the dress.

The nightclub is crowded, and you and Shoko slip in between the people, making your way to the bar. You notice the white head of hair and you wave, Gojo waving back at you. His boyfriend’s arms are around him, and you notice a person you don’t recognize standing around the small table. You notice he’s handsome, wearing a shirt that stretched around his muscles, his hands gripping a glass that he raises at you. Your eyes linger on his body before snapping up to his face and you think he notices.

Gojo puts his arms around you, and Geto follows him in suit. “You’re finally here!” Gojo presses a drink into your hands, and is distracted by Shoko, while you turn to the new person.

“Nanami Kento.” He holds out a hand and you grip it, shaking it. “I’m one of Gojo’s acquaintances from high school.”

“Nanami! You’re so cruel to call me a mere acquaintance!” He leans over and you giggle at the vein in Nanami’s forehead. Gojo grips your shoulder, pushing you forward. “This is (name)! She’s the friend I told you about!”

You turn back to him, wiggling out of his grip. “What- what did you tell him about me? Gojo!” The man is already moving away, going to presumably get more drinks. You grumble, taking a sip of yours. It’s strong, and you wince lightly.

“Only good things, I promise. I’m sorry you have to put up with him.”

You watch as Shoko and Nanami greet each other, finding out they were all friends in high school.

“Haibara a no show?” Shoko yells over the noise, and Nanami nods. “He’s busy with work tonight, unfortunately. I almost didn’t come either, but Gojo was convincing.” He meets your eyes, holding your gaze and you giggle, shuffling closer to him. He has to bend down a bit, and you put your heads closer, like you’re sharing a secret. “He’s blackmailing you to be here, isn’t he.” You whisper, and he smiles at you.

“Maybe, but I’m starting to think it was worth it.”

You feel your stomach flutter, and take another sip of your drink to embolden yourself. He truly was extremely handsome, and you were kind of mad your friends hadn’t introduced you to him already.

The rest of the night is a blur, the both of you spending most of it talking and drinking. You…did not remember much of it later. What you DID remember was drinking way more than your body could handle, and hitting on Nanami. The night had ended, you recall, with you throwing up on the sidewalk while he held your hair back. He was a perfect gentleman the entire time, calling a cab for you and Shoko, and making you promise to drink plenty of water.

You did not listen, and you had woken up with a pounding headache the next day, shriveling in embarrassment.

“You’re sure you just don’t want me to give him your number so you can thank him in person?” Gojo had asked when you asked him to pass on your thanks to Nanami. You denied vehemently, sure that he thought you were a menace he had to take care of and probably ruined his evening by almost throwing up on his expensive shoes.

A part of you did want to get in contact with him again, maybe ask him out to coffee, but the bigger, louder, black hole of embarrassment in you had sucked those feelings deep in, and you silently resolved to him being that awkward acquaintance you’d probably wave at from the other side of a room in case you ever met again.

Until today, of course.

At least weathering your family and your sister’s wedding would be a lot easier with one of the most gorgeous men in existence by your side, right?

[daitranscripts]

Dorian Conversation: Investigate

Have You Seen Alexius?

Dorian Masterpost

PC: Have you gone to see Alexius yet? He’s in the cells.

Dorian: Not yet, no. I saw him before they locked him up. He looked… despondent. Broken. Not the man I remember, nor the one I want to.

Dorian ( in Haven): I suppose the Inquisition will judge him eventually. I wonder if there’s any chance they’ll show him mercy. Dorian (at Skyhold): I realize it’s your job to judge him. All I ask is, if you do… show him mercy.

Dorian: He hardly deserves it, but for Felix’s sake, I can’t help hoping there’s something left of the man I once knew.

—

The PC speaks to Dorian aftyer Alexius's judgement.

Alexius’s Fate:

Execution Dorian: So Alexius is dead. All the good her once stood for, his integrity, his beliefs… he betrayed them all. (Sighs.) I won’t say he didn’t deserve death. I just wish there had been another way. -Dorian disapproves

Forced to research magic arcana for the Inquisition Dorian: I’m told you have Alexius researching magic for you? Research is always what made him happiest. Perhaps I’ll go talk to him, eventually. One word of advice: if he suggest altering time as a way to solve all your problems, give it a pass. +Dorian approves

Made Tranquil Dorian: You made Alexius Tranquil. I wish you’d just killed him. He was a decent man once. He deserved to keep his dignity. I hope I don’t run into him. That… would be more than I could handle. -Dorian greatly disapproves

Forced to work for the Mages Dorian: I ran into Fiona. Seems you have Alexius serving the mages? There’s some justice in that, after what he did to them. Maybe one day he’ll realize it. +Dorian slightly approves

Imprisonment Dorian: Don’t tell me you sent Alexius back into the prisons. Seems a waste to rot away in a cell like that. He was a good man, once. Maybe it will give him time to think. But with Felix gone… I doubt it.

[fivedayslater]

Part 25: Listen to Luffy

Dinner and a Murder: A Mr. Prince Mystery Masterpost

“Okay,” Sanji turns back to Luffy, “What do you know?”

Luffy hums as he presses a finger to his head, “I passed by the study on my way to the library earlier, before I remembered it was locked. I heard Traffy in there yelling at someone.”

Sanji raises a brow. That’s certainly new, “Who?”

“Dunno, didn’t hear them,” he shakes his head, “Just heard Traffy say something like ‘If you don’t, I’ll tell him everything.’”

“Him?” Zoro asks, and Sanji grins at how invested he is in this, “Him who?”

“Dunno,” Luffy shrugs, “It didn’t seem that important, so I went to the library. It was locked, so I went to find Bon-Chan. Then after I found them I found you guys.”

“You seem to have overheard a lot of arguing tonight,” Sanji points out.

“I guess I did,” Luffy answers, a frown cutting across his face, “I didn’t think we were this fighty with each other.” 

“We can’t be happy-go-lucky all the time,” Usopp sighs, “We’re only human after all.”

“But we’re friends. We should be able to get along.” He shakes his head, then points at the two of them, “If you two have a problem with each other, come tell me and we’ll fix it, okay?”

“Got it, Captain,” Zoro assures him with a laugh.

“Uh, yeah,” Sanij blushes, realizing the last thing he has with Zoro is a problem, “Of course.”

“Good,” Luffy nods, apparently satisfied with that.

The door bursts open, and Bon-Chan and Ivankov enter the room.

“Oh, here you are, Mr. Prince,” Bon-Chan says as they gather themself, “I’ve been looking for you. We’ve completed our search of the house.”

“Okay,” Sanji nods as he puffs on his cigarette, “What did you find?”

“I’m sorry to say we found nothing,” they sigh, “None of the windows or doors had been opened, and there was no way for anyone to get in or out undetected. No one was here except for the guests and the staff.”

“I see,” Sanji frowns, the one hope that it was someone from the outside leaving with their statement, “And you searched the whole house? All the floors and all the rooms?”

“Yes,” they nod, “Every nook, cranny, and crack was checked. Also we were finally able to get in touch with the police. They should be here within the hour.”

“Okay,” Sanji nods, “Thank you. Could you gather everyone in the ballroom? I think it’s about time we unravel this mystery.”

“Of course,” Bon-Chan salutes him, and they and Ivankov quickly leave to do as requested.

Sanji has all the clues, all the information he needs to untangle the web before him. He just needs to put everything together.

“You know who did it?” Zoro says, raising an eyebrow as he takes a step closer, “You solved it already?”

“Maybe,” he sighs, releasing a stream of smoke, “We’ll see.”

He points at Usopp and Luffy, “You two should get to the ballroom. I’ll be along shortly.”

“Right, of course,” Usopp says as he takes Luffy’s arm and guides him out of the room.

“What about us?” Zoro asks as they leave, “Are we going to the ballroom too?”

“We are,” Sanji confirms, “We just need to pick up a few things first.”

Once they gather everything, they make their way to the ballroom to find everyone waiting.

“So, Mr. Prince,” Law says from his seat by the window, a searching look on his face as they walk in, “You’ve solved it?”

“That’s what he said,” Luffy says with a smile in his seat next to him as Zoro moves to the drink cart.

“Still, that was so quick,” Usopp chuckles from where he’s standing by the piano, “I expected you to be here all night working on it.”

“But, you know who did it?” Law asks with a raised brow, “Right?”

“Of course he does,” Zoro snorts as he returns to Sanji’s side and hands him a brandy, “He’s a pretty good detective, if you haven’t noticed. I’m sure he’s got this all figured out.”

Sanji takes the brandy, sparing Zoro a grateful smile before he sits down on Luffy’s other side.

Once everyone is settled, Sanji sets his drink down to light a new cigarette and takes a deep drag, exhaling the smoke slowly to help clear his head.

“Let’s start with what we know,” he says as he starts pacing the room.

“We have had two murders this evening,” he starts, “And the four of you are suspects in at least one of them.”

“But I-” Usopp starts, and is quickly silenced by the glares the other occupants send him.

“After dinner, Ace, Nami, Usopp, and I went to the ballroom. Just before the blackout, Ace and Nami each received a text on their phones, and left. The next time we saw Ace, he was dead.”

He puffs on his cigarette, letting the words sink in around the room as he continues, “At some point between leaving the ballroom and being found dead on the staircase, Ace met with someone in the lounge,” he takes out the bag with the bloody knife in it, and sets it on the table, “and there he was stabbed with Zoro’s knife.”

All eyes turn to Zoro, but he is staring at Sanji, simply waiting for him to continue.

“After we found Ace’s body, we decided to split up,” he says as he continues his pacing, “I went with Zoro to the billiard room, Usopp went with Law to the study, and Nami went with Luffy to the kitchen. However, Usopp never made it to the study, and instead went to the lounge.”

Usopp chuckles nervously, making Law roll his eyes and Zoro shake his head.

“Once in the kitchen, Nami told Luffy to go get the library, which he did. While he was gone, she made her way to the study, where she was killed,” he pulls out the bag with the candlestick in it, and places it next to the knife, “with the candlestick from the lounge.”

He takes a sip from his drink, then continues, “The murderer then dragged her body from the secret passage in the study back into the kitchen, where she was found when Luffy finally returned.”

“So that means…” Usopp asks tentatively, “Whoever killed Nami must have known about the secret passages?”

“That’s the theory,” He sets his drink down and takes a drag from his cigarette, “Luffy knows about them, of course. He owns the house. He had ample time to murder Nami since they were partnered when we split up, and,” he pulls out the straw and places it next to the candlestick, “a piece of his straw hat was found in the study where she was killed. On top of that, he was the only one on the side of the house with the dining room during the blackout. He could have easily killed Ace in the lounge and discarded the knife in the dining room without anyone noticing.”

“So,” Law’s suspicious gaze turns to him, “It was Luffy?”

Sanji puffs on his cigarette before answering, “Knowing about the passages doesn’t automatically make him a murderer, and the straw in the study could have been left before tonight. Besides that, I haven’t been able to uncover a clear motive for him to kill either Ace or Nami.”

“Yeah,” Luffy nods, “It wasn’t me.”

Sanji pulls out the handful of prescription papers, the rope from the conservatory, Nami’s ledgerbook, and the blackmail draft, and places them on the table.

“Law has a motive, at least to kill Nami,” he gestures at the ledger book, “He was in debt to her up to his eyeballs, and had even drafted a blackmail note.” He nods towards that, before pointing his cigarette at the prescription papers, “Also papers from his prescription pad were found in both the lounge and the study. Law said he left the study and went to the hall during the blackout, not too far from the lounge. He could have easily slipped inside to kill Ace.

“He also had plenty of time to kill Nami, since Usopp never met up with him, and Luffy heard him arguing with someone on his way to the library.” His cigarette moves to the rope, “The rope in the conservatory – where Law was before dinner – was found in the kitchen after the murder.”

“Then, you’re saying it was,” Usopp swallows audibly, “Law?”

“Law says he never went farther than the hall during the blackout,” Sanji continues, “Anyone could have thrown out the prescriptions earlier in the evening, and he wasn’t necessarily the one who moved the rope. He also claims he was paying Nami back with secrets, and he has no motive to kill Ace. The blackmail note too is only a draft, and while it is in his handwriting, it doesn’t say who he was planning to send it to – if he even was at all.”

Sanji’s eyes dart to Zoro as he reaches into his pocket again, almost asking for his permission. Zoro nods anyway, and Sanji takes a deep breath as he pulls out Blackbeard’s letter, placing it next to the knife.

“Zoro was with me when Nami was killed,” he starts, “but his whereabouts during the blackout are unknown, and Ace was killed with his knife. Law claims he heard Zoro enter the lounge during the blackout, and this letter claims Zoro was involved with someone I’m sure you’re all very familiar with: Blackbeard.”

The collective shudder across the group proves Sanji right.

“It wasn’t Zoro,” Luffy says, then adds, almost hesitantly, “was it?”

Zoro continues to watch Sanji with that steady gaze, trust clear and true in his eye.

Sanji gives him a smile as he grabs his drink from the table and takes a long sip.

“Zoro says he never worked for Blackbeard,” he continues, “He also says he never entered any of the rooms during the blackout, and that Nami had his knife at the time.”

Zoro gives him a small smile as Sanji sets his drink back down.

“And then there’s you,” Sanji says as he points at Usopp.

“M-me?” Usopp gasps as he places a hand on his chest, “I didn’t do it.”

“You were with me during the blackout, so you couldn’t have killed Ace,” he admits, “But it is very suspicious that you didn’t meet up with Law when you were supposed to, leaving you ample time to kill Nami,” he points at the ledger book, “who you were also indebted to.”

“But I didn’t!” He insists, “I never left the lounge until we found her body! And I was paying Nami back, honest!”

Sanji takes a long drag, letting him stew for a moment before relenting, “True, I found no evidence saying you killed Nami, but I’ve found nothing concrete saying you didn’t either.”

Usopp whimpers as he falls back in his seat.

“There’s also one last suspect,” Sanji says as he exhales a puff of smoke, “One that is not here with us.”

“What?” Luffy slams his hands down, hitting Law and Zoro’s thighs and making them wince, “You said the suspects were all of us! Who is it then?”

Sanji digs through his pocket, pulling out the golden bracelet and setting that carefully down next to the knife.

“Nami clearly didn’t kill herself, but she was also missing during the blackout,” he continues, “She said she went to the hall, but Law, who was also in the hall, didn’t notice her there, and Luffy, who had been wandering around the house, heard her in the lounge. Her bracelet was also found by the fireplace there. And,” he taps the letter again, “Blackbeard also claims she was working for him. It’s possible she killed Ace, and someone else killed her.”

The silence that follows his words is deafening. Every eye in the room is on him, waiting with rapt attention for his next move.

“The house has been searched, no one else entered or exited during the blackout.” Sanji sighs, releasing a puff of smoke, “The murderer – or murderers, as the case may be – is one of us.”

The room goes silent, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

“And?” Usopp asks, “Who did it? Who killed Ace and Nami?”

**A note before you vote**: I know there's a lot, so please read each option carefully to make sure you're picking the one you mean to pick!

Your choices up until now have affected the outcome of the story, and don't worry, it still does here! However the choice you're making isn't who the murderer(s) are (that's already been set), it's who Sanji is accusing. Sanji could be wrong, and whether he is or not may effect the ending you get...

Choose wisely...

[hekate1308]

There Was Winter’s Cold A Destiel Advent Calendar December 18

Masterpost

Dean had always lived by the sentence no time like the present, mostly because when he had been young, there really had been no time like the present – he’d had to do certain things to ensure he and Sam survived and got to school on time, and that had been that.

But even now, he knew there were some things best dealt with right away, and returning a water wraith to his rightful home certainly felt like it.

Plus, there was a full moon, so they were in luck – or not, as Dean’s stupid heart would remind him, but again, that was not a problem to deal with now, he could wallow in misery later –

They had not even known each other for a week. It was absolutely ridiculous to imagine that there was anything between them or something special about Cas, apart from the obvious. This kind of stuff – it didn’t happen. One didn’t magically fall in – one didn’t feel drawn to –

The point was, nothing like that happened within such a short amount of time. This wasn’t a fairytale, this was real life (alright maybe it was a bit weird to claim that when he was talking about trying to get a water wraith back home, but that was not the point at the moment).

So, really, he tried to reason with himself, what had happened? Look at it from an outside perspective – he had come across a guy who needed help, yeah, a somewhat strange guy, all things considered, but still, a guy who needed help, he had provided him with that, and now the guy had everything he needed to go back home. Nothing lost, nothing gained… no, that was wrong. It was a net positive to help people, Dean had always lived by that, and so he would now, too.

Maybe he could see Cas again? Probably not the best course of action, all things considered, since he was… was.. but still, he would like to know that he was doing alright, that he didn’t have to worry. And after all, if eh could spend time outside the water after he had been thrown out, certainly eh could do short visit? If he wanted to, of course but perhaps he didn’t… this was all so needlessly complicated, of course because Dea made it so, he had no delusions in that regard.

Why couldn’t he be interested in a nice normal gal or guy, really, like Sam? Yeah, find someone like his brother’s other half to settle down with, who didn’t come from a very wet place and actually knew how to talk to people and what the internet was…

But that would never be good enough for him now, no. Not after he had met Cas.

Damn it.

Again, again, again, he could and would deal with that later. First solve this, then go wallow in his misery.

And there it was the river.

If he had known would he still have come here that night that was barely old news and yet felt like forever ago?

Of course he would have. He felt absolutely sure of that. Just knowing Cas for a few days was so much better than not knowing him at all, like never feeling this way about anyone.

The thought whether this was how Sam felt about Jess and Bobby felt about Ellen crossed his mind, but he was not going to dwell on that. This was not – he’d get over it.

Cas was quietly walking at his side, and Dean wondered what he made of it all. Was probably happy to return home and everything. Why shouldn’t he be.

Then, suddenly, “Dean, I wish to thank you for everything.”

“It’s not over yet, buddy, no reason to thank me.”

“Still – you took me in, and you showed me so many new things… I… thank you very very much.”

He didn’t know where to look, so he looked at the stupid bucket eh was carrying. Then he remembered to nod. Better than nothing.

They continued on their way, and he wondered just how his life had turned out that way. He was just a guy trying to navigate his existence, like so many others, and yet somehow…

Oh God, don’t get philosophical now, Winchester. Won’t do any good.

And then there it was. The moon, shining on the water.

Even Dean, who knew it brought him one step closer to saying goodbye to Cas, had to admit that it looked pretty damn beautiful.

And, as a matter of fact romantic, but this was not the moment. That moment would never come, if they were successful, and why should they not be. He handed Cas the bucket. “Go ahead.”

Cas nodded at him, then took the bucket.

Their fingers touched ever so slightly and Dean told himself not to treasure the feeling.

[running2redemption]

Titan's Prophet AU Masterpost/Overview

A Philip Wittebane centric AU. Character relationships at the bottom of the post.

When Philip first arrived on the Isles, alone and hostile, the Titan attempted to reach out to guide him, subtly at first and less so as the stubborn man ignored the signs.

Eventually the Titan reached out telepathically - and even then Philip accused the Titan of being the voice of the Devil. It was only through ignoring the Titan's warnings repeatedly that he began to maybe consider this guide might not be evil. And once that trust was established, Philip was constantly asking questions about this place, and the Titan answered where she could.

By the time Philip reached Caleb, there was still an argument about being abandoned, but that's all it was: an argument.

Philip wound up living with them, helping Evelyn with potions and writing a book about the Isles from the perspective of a newcomer, published under the pseudonym Belos. It was around this time that Caleb carved Philip his own palisman, Tate(r).

When he heard Evelyn refer to the Titan in a manner similar to God and the Titan responded, Philip had a little tiny bit of a freak out. He was a chosen prophet of the God of this place? He was special. He was Chosen.

Caleb and Evelyn didn't quite believe him at first, but as he demonstrated knowledge he couldn't possibly have obtained any other way they began to.

And Philip was so eager to be directed by the Titan; the Titan had a means to influence the world in a bigger way with Philip. Caleb carved Philip a new mask and he went out to solve the world's problems as Belos, the Titan's Prophet!

He travelled all over the Isles, warning people of impending disaster, resolving conflict and occasionally running into trouble. The Titan shared some of her power with him, enabling him to cast magic similar to a witch, and lengthened his lifespan significantly.

Between following the Titan's bidding he returned to Evelyn and Caleb's home and their seemingly endlessly growing brood. In this time he built the Portal Door and subsequently lost it after a single use, Philip couldn't hear the Titan in the Human Realm so he returned to the Boiling Isles fairly quickly.

As more time passed, Philip asked the Titan to extend Caleb's life as well, which the Titan agreed to if that was what Caleb wanted. But Caleb rejected the offer - he was happy with the life he'd been given, he didn't want to watch Evelyn and his kids die, to outlive them like that. He was happy Philip had found his place in the world and had really grown into an accomplished man, but eternity was not for him.

There was a lot of bitterness about that decision and Philip tried to find a way to convince or force Caleb to accept the offer, but he never could, even on Caleb's deathbed.

Philip was left the house, and began wallowing in grief. The Titan installed Hooty into the house to keep Philip company and draw the man out of his misery. It worked.

Philip resumed missions with Hooty acting as security while he was away, but any Clawthorne was welcome to use the house as needed, it acted mostly as a family home.

The Titan's requests slowed as time went on, partly because there's only so many problems that can be solved by throwing Philip at them and partly because while Philip's lifespan had been extended, he was still aging and the Titan was worried it was becoming too much for him.

He became the Clawthorne family historian, good old uncle Philip, always reliably there. The general assumption is that the prophet Belos died, most of the Clawthornes didn't know that he'd even been the prophet.

The Sovereign took control of the Isles and Philip did ask if he should do something about that but was advised to stand down, which he did, reluctantly. He still wrote scathing political takes in the paper under the name Belos - most people assume it is just a reference to the old prophet for those who know their history.

When Edalyn was cursed and ran away from home she inevitably turned up at Philip's, who gladly took her in despite the attack on Dell - he was confident he could handle Eda at her worst with the Titan's blessing.

Philip has basically become a homebody, rarely leaving the house, the general public don't even know he exists.

Character Relations (most interactions would take place in the first season equivalent)

Luz - A new young face around the house. Philip is somewhat indifferent until he realizes she's human - he's warming up to Luz.

Edalyn - Beloved annoying niece.

King - Beloved son. Spoils him. King does not know he's a Titan at this point, though Philip does draw the Titan often and tells him that it's King's father.

Hooty - A good very annoying friend.

Hunter - Who's that? And why does he look like my long-deceased brother?

Lilith - Beloved niece. Reminds him of himself.

Willow - Luz's friend from school?

Gus - Luz's friend from school?

Amity - Luz's ??? from school?

Raine - Eda's ex. Shame, Philip really liked them, which should have been his first warning that it wasn't gonna work out - he never likes the Clawthorne's partners.

Dell - Beloved nephew, reminds him a lot of Caleb.

Gwendolyn - Not fond. Kind of amused that she is a -lyn that joined the family instead of being born into it.

The Sovereign - Never met them and never wants to.

The Titan - Partner.

The Collector - Who?

[dododan]

Forgotten Perseverance - Chapter 5

Masterpost

Prologue Previous Next

Gaster decided to take care of the injured girl. She seemed harmless, no matter if she was injured or not. If she did something, he would solve the problem himself.

By the way, Sans makes jokes at certain points in the story. Unfortunately, I don't know much about jokes, but I tried to convey his humour in the story somehow. I hope you will be understanding of his jokes.

I slept on the bed covered with a duvet. I had always been a light sleeper, so when I heard the door creak I open my eyes. In the doorway stood my father dressed in a white apron down to the ground. His typical work attire. Did I mention that Dad was a workaholic?  

He could go to the lab even on weekends and sit there until noon, and then home - as if that wasn't enough - he would bring paperwork.     

Sometimes he would sit with us, playing if he didn't have a project on his mind. Most of the time it was me who took care of Papyrus - we coloured together, did homework, played in the snow.     

I looked at my father with sleepy eyes. Out of the corner of my eye, I glanced at the watch on the dresser. The hands pointed to a few minutes past six.     

Dad walked over to my bed and sat down next to me. In turn, I managed to lean my back against the wall.     

"I would like you to take care of Papyrus and Katharina today," said father.     

Then I thought how he could ask me to do that. I was supposed to take care of a human who was a potential threat to us. I was furious with him and made no secret of it.     

"I don't understand why I should take care of her at all. If she doesn't die from her wounds the king will kill her," I replied coldly, without looking at my father.    

 Yes, I disrespected my father. I resented him for saving the human. I wanted to get rid of her as soon as possible from here.     

I felt my father's stern gaze on me. He didn't like my expression. Now that I look back on it, I don't blame him. I said terrible things.     

"Sans, I understand your concerns. I have similar ones myself, but the girl is injured. If something were to happen you would be able to handle her without a problem" replied father, standing up. "And as for the king, I am sure he will understand the situation. Maybe there is another solution than killing" He walked to the door, and was about to leave. "I hope that you will too." He added on his way out.     

How did I feel then?     

I was frustrated by it all. I didn't understand my father's actions and I was sure, although I didn't know the king personally at the time, that he would kill Katharina anyway.  I thought that he would have no mercy by having people take his children from him. I didn't take into account that the father as well as the king might have thought otherwise.    

I hated people because of what Bravery was like. I took into account only him despite the fact that people before him were not so wrong.     

Katharina gave me no reason to hate her, at first I could not accept that she was different. I had the blindfolds. I did not see the girl's fear. I only saw what I wanted to see.     

After my father left I settled down to sleep again. Paps got up around nine o'clock or even later at weekends, so I had plenty of time to make breakfast. 

Only thoughts swirled around my head not allowing me to sleep. My father's words hurt me to a certain extent. Even then I began to wonder if I was doing the right thing. I was too stubborn to admit to myself that the girl was not a threat.     

 I wrestled with my thoughts for a long time, and remorse wouldn't let me sleep. Maybe I had reacted too harshly?     

 I looked at my watch again. It indicated half past eight. Somehow I saw no point in continuing to sleep, or rather trying to. I crawled lazily out of bed. I sat down on its edge, stretching. My bones ached a few times. A new day had to begin.   

 ...    

 Dressed I went downstairs. Katharina was lying on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket. She was asleep. I didn't even go up to her, but headed for the kitchen with the intention of making pancakes. Although it may come as a surprise I could cook. I didn't always dine at Grillbi's or his father Netsu's. I went to Netsu's bar occasionally. Usually when I didn't want to make meals.     

 I made breakfast quickly and efficiently. I also prepared a few more pancakes for Kath, but I did this out of remorse and a desire not to let his father down than out of concern.     

 By the time I finished it was getting to nine o'clock, so I headed to my brother's room to wake him up. I quickly found myself at Papyrus' bedroom, skipping up the stairs two steps at a time. I didn't even knock just opened the door wide, letting the light into the room. I heard quiet murmurs of displeasure. The room was illuminated by the faint glow of lamps from the corridor. The outlines of Paps' bed, desk and a few cupboards appeared in the darkness. I turned towards the window with the intention of letting in more light. However, something stopped me, more specifically the scattered books. I stumbled over them and landed on the floor with a bang.     

 Suddenly the light came on and I heard my brother's voice.    

 "What are you doing?" he asked, yawning.     

 "Educating myself," I said, standing up. It may not have been the joke of all time, but it was enough to make Paps nervous. Sometimes... Well, okay. I always made jokes to annoy him. Then he would pretend he wasn't amused by my jokes, trying to hold back a smile. I had a lot of fun in the process, seeing his poor efforts. He was then funnier than my rusks.     

 "They are awful!" announced Papyrus, getting up abruptly from the bed. I massaged my skull, heading towards the door.      

 "Since you're up, let's go to breakfast" I replied, opening the door. "I made pancakes." 

 At the word pancakes Papyrus was already in the corridor. My brother was even fond of pancakes with strawberry jam. They were a good way of getting Paps out of bed. I made them every other weekend. This one I decided to make an exception because of a recent rather unusual experience.    

 "Are you coming?" shouted Papyrus from the top of the stairs.  Well my little brother wasn't too quiet, so I figured he had also woken Katharina up with his morning screams.   

"Yes, just don't run up the stairs," I admonished him, leaving the room. As usual it was of no use, because after a while I heard him running down to the ground floor.  Like a pea against the wall... Going downstairs, I wondered when Papyrus would start listening to me. The paradox was that if he had listened to me and stayed at home, I would have done something to Katharina that I might have regretted later. To think that by my brother's disobedience we had saved this girl's life.     

"SANS! Hurry!" Pap shouted  from the kitchen. As a kid he was always in a hurry to go somewhere, especially to breakfast. 

"Put out the plates and I'll wake up our guest," I replied.     

Paps and I had been behaving terribly loudly for some time, and the girl didn't even react. A normal person would have woken up some time ago, but she was still asleep. Either she was in such a deep sleep or something is wrong. With this thought, I walked the distance between the stairs and the couch.     

Katharina was lying on the couch covered up to her head with a blanket. I couldn't see her face because her hair was covering it. Something didn't feel right here.     

"Hey, get up" I crouched down by the sofa. I brushed a few strands off her forehead. Her eyebrows were furrowed in a strange grimace and her cheeks were slightly flushed. As if that wasn't enough she was breathing fast with a slight effort. "Are you all right? " 

"C-cold" she said with difficulty, covering herself with the blanket. I touched her forehead. She had a fever and a high one at that.     

"F$ck" I said briefly. Fever and chills boded badly, especially in a person whose body I knew nothing about.     

"SANS! What are you doing?" Papyrus asked, looking out of the kitchen. I looked at him. I must have looked worried because he responded immediately. - Big brother, what's going on? " 

"I need to call my dad" I said, standing up. I walked over to the cabinet by the other side of the couch. I reached for the phone, dialing the number for Dad's lab. "Kath has a fever. " 

I heard three beeps... Nothing... I called the number again... Nothing... I was annoyed. My father didn't answer. He probably didn't hear the ringtone, muted it. I couldn't wait. I had to do something. I gave the phone to Paps and told him to dial the number until it rang. Bro listened to me, and in the meantime I went running to the kitchen. Katharina had a high fever, so it had to be brought down somehow. The only thing that came to my mind was ice. I took a towel and took the ice out of the freezer. I wrapped my ankles in the towel, heading towards the living room. I put the compress on the girl's forehead. I didn't know what to do next. I didn't have the faintest idea what could be wrong with her. This... I knew a lot about anatomy, I may not have been a top student, but I knew the basics. But as far as people were concerned I knew absolutely nothing, maybe some residual information. There wasn't much of that. All I could do was sit and wait for my father to kindly tear himself away from his work.      

Fortunately, we didn't have to wait long for an answer. As soon as my father picked up Paps handed me the phone. I walked away from him a piece. If it turned out that she was going to die I wanted to relieve him of that somehow. I surprised myself that I cared about her after all. Papyrus took an instant liking to this girl. Somehow at the time I did not want to contribute to her death.     

"What is it, son?" asked the father quickly. From the background I heard some calling, shouting... I was surprised. Dad didn't like working in a hectic environment.     

"Dad, are you OK?" I asked uncertainly. What was going on there?   

"Sans, if you were just calling for...." he didn't finish because he was interrupted by a bang, and after a while I heard the screams of Doctor Resma. She was a cat-like monster with bluish fur. She also worked as my father's subordinate together with Mr Timo the human-like green monster and Dr Tarel, who was a big white head.     

There were other scientists working in the lab in Hotland, but these monsters belonged to my dad's team of royal scientists. Ah... I would almost skip Saere. The young monster looked like a pink lizard with no arms. She mostly wore plaid shirts. She was, as Ms Resma put it, "a person with potential", so it was no surprise that she became her assistant.... And she was only three years older than me!      

Good! Let's better get back to the story before I lose the thread.    

After the situation at my father's had quietened down for a short while, he came back to me. "Son, we have a little problem here and if it's nothing important.... "  

"Katharina has a high fever and chills" I interrupted my father. He fell silent. On the other side I could only hear the sounds of running and someone's calls. After a short while, my father answered me.    

"Sans, listen to me. Try to bring her fever down. You have to make sure that her temperature doesn't exceed 40 degrees and that it doesn't drop too much," my father said calmly, but I could sense the uncertainty in his voice. I didn't know what was wrong with her and I was in no way reassured by my father's statement. "I will try to come back as soon as possible. " 

"OK, I'll take care of her" I looked at the girl and at Paps standing next to her. She really didn't look well. "But what's wrong with her?"    

"Sepsis" that's all I heard in reply. I didn't really understand what he meant. Paps must have realised that I didn't know what it was, because after a while he added. - I will explain it to you later.     

After that he hung up, and there was nothing left for me to do but follow his advice and wait. I put the phone down on the table and sat down on the floor next to the sofa. Papyrus was sitting close to Kath, watching her with a worried face. As soon as I sat down it was Paps who looked at me, anticipating any response.     

"Dad said we should do her compresses and he'll try to get back as soon as possible,' I said scratching the back of my skull." But something happened in the lab, so I don't know how long it will take him.     

The youngster said nothing but returned his gaze to the girl. You could read from Papyrus like an open book. He cared about the girl and wanted to help her somehow, but he didn't know how. I felt sorry for him. That sad look on his face made me feel guilty, even though I had not contributed to the girl's illness in any way. Maybe the very realisation that I wanted her to die made my conscience seize up.     

"Bro, don't worry," I said, and Paps looked at me. "'I'm sure our father will help her. He is a royal scientist after all "  

A small smile began to appear on my little brother's face, which after a while turned into a big grin, and his eyes flashed orange.     

"You're right! Father manages everything," he said, standing up abruptly. I shuddered at his impulsiveness. "I can help too!"  

He said and ran to the floor. He skipped up a few steps at a fast pace and disappeared behind the door of his room. I stared at him the whole time, wondering what had hatched in that little skull of his. I soon found out, because just a few minutes later he was standing next to the sofa, holding a teddy bear - his favourite mascot - in his hands. He had received it when he was less than two years old from his father. He slept with it every night. He surprised me by bringing it. 

"Mr Candy supported me when I was ill, so Kath will help too," Papyrus said proudly, puffing out his chest proudly. I smiled. Paps could be really corny at times like this. And how could anyone not like him?    

My bro placed the toy next to the girl's head. The plushie's head tilted slightly, peeling against the armrest of the sofa.  Paps sat down next to the girl on the sofa. I looked at him and suddenly, as if someone had cracked a whip, I remembered my breakfast. I had also forgotten about my hunger. But now he was making himself known with redoubled force.    

"Papy, there's no point in both of us sitting here. You'd better go have breakfast," I said to my brother. He immediately got up without stammering and went to the kitchen.     

I thought he would eat there, but my brother can surprise. He came into the living room with a plate of pancakes in one hand, and in the other he held the plates, and on them stood the jam.     

I smiled slightly. Sometimes my brother could surprise me. He sat down next to me on the floor and we ate pancakes together. In the meantime, I changed Kath's wrap.     

"Sans, will you get me some water?" asked the teenager weakly.  

"Sure, I'm coming," I said, getting up.    

When I was in the kitchen I heard Papyrus talking to the girl. I could mostly hear my brother. Kath was probably nodding weakly.    

I picked up a glass and poured water into it. I was back in the living room with the water when the door swung open abruptly, letting the cold wind in. I looked together with Paps in that direction.   

"Daddy!" said Paps, running up to his father.   

Paps had just managed to close the door when the youngster hugged him.  

"Yes, Papyrus I'm happy to see you too," said his father, hugging Paps. "And now we'll take care of Katharina," added the father, looking at me.    

Papyrus moved away from dad, and he followed me into the living room. Katharina, who until then had not reacted to anything, raised her head with an effort. However, she immediately lowered it. With her fever and general weakness, even this was too much effort for her.    

Gaster approached her, putting his briefcase down next to the sofa.  

"How are you feeling?" He asked, crouching down beside her. "Where are you in pain?" 

The girl did not really respond to her father's words. The fever must have been tormenting her.    

After a while Papyrus stood up, looking for something in his bag.  

"Papyrus bring a medical bag, not a first aid bag," said the father, without even looking at him.    

Paps immediately ran upstairs to his father's office. I didn't understand what his purpose was when Paps took a syringe and a vial with a strange substance out of the bag after a while.  

"What is this?" I asked. "And why did you make him go upstairs?" 

"These are antibiotics," said my father calmly, pushing the clear liquid with the syringe. "And I have something strengthening in my medical bag" he added, checking for air in the syringe."Can you help me?" I nodded. "Roll up her shirt sleeve"  

I did as he instructed and it was over. Literally a moment later Papyrus ran down the stairs carrying a first aid kit in his hands. Bro placed it on the table where the plates still stood.   

"Paps, go wash the plates," I said to him. Surprisingly he took them without the slightest objection. This was completely unlike him. Perhaps he was beginning to be responsible?    

At this time my father took another substance out of the medical bag. It was a strange green colour. I don't know if I thought it, but this substance was flickering.  

"Are you administering magic to her?" I asked. "Will this not harm her?" 

"As perceptive as ever" said the father, handing Katharina the medicine. "Magic does not harm people. Now people have residual amounts of magic in them. They used to have more of it, but over the years they have forgotten how to use it. Increasing the concentration of magic will help purify her blood." 

"Why should it purify her blood? Is it related to that sepsis you mentioned earlier?" I asked. At the time I didn't know much, or rather at all, about the human body. I didn't know how magic was supposed to help her.   

My father put the syringe back in the medicine cabinet. Only now did I see what he looked like. He was wearing a slightly smeared apron and in some places it was torn. This sight heightened my growing sense of curiosity. What had happened in the laboratory? However, I doubted he would answer me now, if at all.  

"Sepsis is a bacterial or viral infection of the blood. With all sorts of infections, microorganisms enter the bloodstream. If the body cannot cope with them there is a general infection of the body," the father explained. "Sometimes it occurs in monsters with corporeal shells, but it does not occur in skeletons."  

"I guess sepsis can't get under our skin," I said.   

Father looked at me, smiling slightly. After a moment Papyrus ran into the room with a large bag. He placed it next to father on the table. Dad opened it and looked through some vials of medicine. I didn't really know what was in them.    

I preferred not to disturb my father, so I took Papyrus upstairs. Little brother had to do his homework eventually. It was a bit difficult to drag him away, but his father's support helped.   

We sat together in my brother's room. We were doing maths homework. As Papyrus put it the greatest bane of the Underground. He simply hated it, even though he did well in it.   

After an hour we were down to the last assignment. However, there was one thing that did not give me peace of mind. And that was Katharina. I didn't mean her health. That was a completely different tale. I was more concerned with what would happen to her now. Would she stay with us? I didn't know anything yet at the time.    

Although by then I had already started to have doubts.    

She may have been with us for less than two days, but she had done nothing to make me worry, even though she was unconscious most of the time. Above all, her father had decided to take her in himself. He wouldn't do something like that if Kath was dangerous. And then something came to my mind. King Asgore.   

I jumped off the chair like a scalded man.  

"What happened to you?" asked a confused Paps.   

"I just remembered something" I said, walking towards the door. "I need to talk to dad" I added opening the door. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the youngster make a victory gesture. Oh it's not that easy with me. "Finish this task and I'll check it later" I said closing the door. I didn't even have to turn around because I knew he wasn't happy about it.    

I went down the stairs. The father was no longer with the teenager. Instead, she was standing next to her with an IV. I thought she was probably in the kitchen and I was not mistaken. Dad was sitting at the table, drinking coffee.  

"Her condition had improved. She'll recover in a few days" Gaster said as soon as I entered the room. I wanted to say that he was wrong.... But he was right. I silently pushed back my chair and sat down. Gaster took another sip of coffee. I ostensibly wanted to ask him how the King thing was going, but I didn't want it to come out that I was worried about it. I guess he guessed that I had no small problem with it, because after a moment of silence he added. "I spoke to the king. I told him the situation. And he agreed that the girl could stay with us...."  

"But? " 

The father sighed heavily. You could see that this matter was bothering him terribly.   

"If she does something suspicious then..." He fell silent. Father looked at me. He was anxious. "I am then to solve the problem" he finished grimly.   

I knew what he meant. He meant that he would have to be the one to kill Katharina. Yes father had killed a man before. It was Bravery, but it was in self-defence. Two completely different things. I don't know if Father could ever kill a defenceless person.   

After that we both didn't speak. We felt quite uncomfortable in the situation. However, the silence was broken by Paps' loud voice coming from the living room.  

"And how are you feeling Katharina?"   

"A little better" I barely heard her.  

Paps got up and moved towards the living room. After a while I followed his footsteps. Kath was sitting on the sofa, tightly wrapped in a blanket. She was still pale and her cheeks were flushed, but she was conscious. She smiled weakly at the sight of her father.  

"Good morning," she replied.   

"It is good to see that you are feeling better" said the father, smiling slightly. I leaned against the door frame. I preferred to watch them from a distance.   

"YES! Mr Candy certainly helped you with taht!" replied Papyrus, sitting down next to the girl. Quite quickly she realised that he was talking about the teddy bear that was lying next to her. She took it in her hands, hugging it.  

"You're right, his help was indispensable," she said.  

"NYEH HEH HEH"   

Eh... That's when I really started to doubt my rationale. Thanks to her, Papyrus is smiling. The father is at home. He's not trying to get home at all costs. I seriously didn't know what to think about her. Maybe I should give her a chance? After all, her father did, and he couldn't be wrong.    

I walked slowly over to the couch.  

"Are you hungry?" I asked, leaning with my hands against the back of the sofa.  

She turned to me. She was looking straight at me with those violet eyes of hers. For a moment I thought they shone.  

" I'm sorry, but I'm not hungry just Katharina" she said smiling slightly. Well... I have to admit that I didn't expect something like this. Either she's trying to befriend me or.... And let my suspicions run wild! I laughed along with my father, and Papy, as Papy does, scoffed.  

"DAD! SANS INFECTED KATHARINA WITH A BAD SENSE OF HUMOUR!"    

I couldn't stand it and neither could my father and Kath. We laughed and Paps, even more upset, got up abruptly from the sofa and started stomping his foot.    

This sight was really disjointed. It was only after a good minute that we calmed down.  

"OK, now for the serious stuff," Paps began, heading towards the kitchen. "He'll take care of dinner. " 

I sat down next to them on the sofa, taking the remote control in my hand.  

"Then why don't we watch something?" I asked, turning on the TV.   

"YES! HOW ABOUT 'MR ARIS AND HIS FRIENDS'?" suggested the youngster.   

Kath just shrugged her shoulders. I didn't care either, so we turned on 'Mr Aris and His Friends'. A children's series about the adventures of a monster dog and his friends. One of the few series that flew on Underground Television. Yes, we had a studio in Hotland, but.... There weren't many people willing to run programmes. There were a few cooking programmes, science programmes and children's cartoons. We also created fake films that went underground. You're probably familiar with 'A Christmas Story'? In ours, instead of Ebenezer Scrooge, there is a spider called Sting Y. Freak. The story was the same as the original, but the names of the characters were changed. And there was no connection to religion. There were a few more films like this e.g. Lone Alone at Home.    

But there was still an anime broadcast. It had different stories depending on the genre, so there was something for everyone. There weren't many of them flying on TV, because you had to find a whole season on the Dump and see if it worked. One of the anime I happened to watch was 'Sailor Moon'. A story about a girl who turns into a moon heroine and saves the world from evil. This one... I only watched one episode, not even to the end. In my opinion it was too girly.    

Coming back to the rest of the day, it passed in a nice, friendly atmosphere. My father prepared broth for dinner. Although he cooked infrequently, the soup turned out well. We watched some more television. We talked about everything from TV programmes to interesting books.    

I didn't even notice when it was evening. There was some kind of adventure film on the TV, I don't remember much what kind. I was already tired. I looked at my brother. He was sleeping cuddled up with Kath and she was cuddled up with him. It was a really sweet sight.  

"I'd better take him to bed," my father said, turning off the TV.   

When Dad put Paps down in his bed, he stopped in the doorway of my room. I looked up at him. My eye sockets were closing from exhaustion. I had the feeling that I could fall asleep standing up.    

"I'm proud of you son" my father said, closing my bedroom door.    

This really made me swoon. Dad said he was proud of me. In that moment I felt happy. I know he loved me, but he rarely said such words to me. THAT made me happy. Maybe giving this girl a chance isn't such a bad idea? I thought, going to bed. 

[redflagshipwriter]

Halfa Cass 11 pt 1

masterpost

They had a teensy bit of a war council about the new problem when Danny came back from work.

“On the bright side, they did send someone to take away Brick,” Danny said optimistically. He tried, anyway. He had a grim and depressing certainty that he was going to have to do something drastic and violent to solve this problem. That sucked. It sucked so hard. He looked at his knees. “But. Yeah. They probably will come after you to make me make some dumb ugly guns or whatever.”

“Okay,” Jazz said calmingly, “Every problem has solutions, Danny.” 

…He scrunched up his face. He didn’t outright argue but he didn’t really see a great solution off hand.

Jazz’s big brain was clearly churning through the angles. She went quiet for a while, and then broke the silence in a thoughtful tone. “We could theoretically just kill the mob. All of them.” She looked up at the water stained ceiling and mouthed something that might be calculations. How many mob members she thought there might be? A plan to do this?

Danny blinked at her from his perch on the kitchen counter, hunched under the cupboard in a way that made him feel secure. “I thought this was going to go the other way. Like, with you telling me not to overreact.” He watched his big sister with a sort of horrified fascination.

Jazz waved that away with a hand. “I am not starting over again. I’m halfway through with my Gen Eds.” The dark smudges under her eyes looked even deeper in the shitty artificial lighting of their apartment. “The problem with that is that I only make about 1200 a month, and at that rate, we will never get you your identification.” She scowled and dug her fingers onto the tabletop as if she was going to squeeze cooperation out of it by force. “We sort of need that income source to get you into university on time. It’s important for your social development to get you back around your age mates sooner rather than later.”

He raised a hand like he had a question in class. “I thought the problem with that was going to be that murder is bad,” Danny said hesitantly. He was used to Jazz being the voice of morality. Were they doing something different now?

“The worst thing that happens to them is that they have to live near Skulker,” Jazz said waspishly. “Anyway, it’s on them for trying to make you build weapons. They’re the rude ones. They don’t get to throw off my twenty year plan.”

…Danny pinched his lips together to avoid the petty correction that they wouldn’t be living near Skulker, per se. Fair enough. The whole life or death thing did feel a bit less serious when you hung out with lots of dead people and they were just, like, people. Murder was, like, a conversation from a meat existence to a goo existence. It wasn’t nice, but it also wasn’t nice to threaten people’s sisters. 

“Speaking of, I need to get to work so that I have my perfect attendance record for a good recommendation for the next job.” Jazz scrubbed at her face with the back of a hand and then dragged it down, squishing her cheek. “Do you want me to bring back breakfast?”

Yes.

“No,” Danny lied. He shimmied down off the counter and into his shoes. “I’ll walk you there. I’m sick of being inside. Maybe I’ll pick up groceries.”

Jazz snorted and rolled her eyes, but she grabbed her bag without making fun of him. He walked with her down cold, filthy sidewalks and waved goodbye on the street across from her building. Danny pretended not to worry. She did him the favor of not pointing out that he was definitely going to come back at 4:30 am to walk her home. 

Danny locked the door when he got back in, but he felt kinda dumb about it. 

If this mob or gang or whatever (was there a difference?) knew where he lived and wanted in, the door was not going to keep them out. Maybe he should just leave it unlocked so that they didn’t bust it open and break the lock, actually. A lock was what, 40 bucks? He didn’t want to have to replace that.

He went back and unlocked it on that basis. Then he screwed up his face to think.

…There wasn’t really a reason for them to come. He hadn’t made them mad yet. It would be different once they came back and he said he really wasn’t going to make them any weapons. 

Danny locked it anyway and then set a timer for 4 in the morning. It was early for him to turn in but he grabbed the pillow off of the shelf and put it back on the sofa anyways. Hopefully he’d get to sleep like, right away.

[linssikeittomies]

Pivot Points - Chapter 1: Hard Left

Masterpost / AO3

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

CW: attempted suicide

You wouldn't believe how much editing I did on this chapter. About 5(five!!!) times I was sure it was done, and just kept finding small things to add and/or change orz I would recomment reading this on AO3, I have more thorough notes and tags there.

--

The final straw isn’t Spriggs getting uppity with him. That’s such a common occurrence these days it barely fazes Izzy anymore. There’s a real chance he’d be more shocked if Spriggs actually did listen to him instead of shucking off his duties.

 “You’re not the first mate on this ship, Dizzy Izzy.”

It still wouldn’t look good to let anyone talk back at him, so every time this sort of thing happens, Izzy is forced to act. Words stopped getting through to Spriggs months ago, but fortunately bodily harm is his weak point - quickest way to get him to do fucking anything is to threaten him with something sharp.

The final straw isn’t Edward grabbing his wrist to stop him from pulling out his sword, either. Izzy would’ve appreciated him not doing that, but all in all, it isn’t that surprising these days. He’d gone real soft after fucking Bonnet came back. Despite having known him for thirty years, despite seeing him grow from average sailor and scrappy brawler to a fucking legend, or even a force of nature, despite seeing his lowest points where he wouldn’t get out of bed for a week straight, despite all that the Edward in front of him these days is a practical fucking stranger. Because he had fallen for some lily-livered fucking idiot who got bored of having a good life and decided to make a fucking mockery out of hard choices and necessity and nab anything he felt like along the way.

 “Sorry, Izzy. Stede’s ship, Stede’s rules- no threatening the crew.” Fucking Bonnet. It’s like that fucking moron wants to get shipwrecked with all this fucking shoddy rigwork and crowded decks. Fine by Izzy if he feels like dying, but he doesn’t need to take his useless fucking crew with him- actually, no, he can take his whole fucking useless crew with him, just leave Edward and Izzy out of it.

 “These lazy fucks won’t do their fucking jobs when I tell them to, and then you stop me from doing them myself! So what the fuck am I supposed to do, then?”

And Edward just groans and waves his hand like that was supposed to fix anything. As if just ignoring a problem would make it solve itself - or more likely, Izzy would find the solution in his place because that's how it’s been ever since Blackbeard started gaining a reputation, once Edward started feeling like not doing actual work. Which had been vast majority of the time for the last few years.

 “Yeah, ‘cause you’re, like... above that and shit, Iz. You’re not some deckhand.”

It’s been a fair while since Izzy really exploded at Edward. Trust him, they’ve had their fair share of arguments, as all couples do, and his respect for Edward usually overrides his need for personal pride, and besides, more often than not Edward proved to have been in the right at the end, so Izzy’s learned to defer to him anyway. But he’s no doormat - he lets Edward have it when it’s deserved. And in this case it’s been deserved for months.

 “Well if I’m not the first mate, and I’m also not a deckhand, or the helmsman, or any other rank, then what the fuck am I supposed to be doing all day when there’s a ship full of -”

 “I dunno, man, just - “Edward sighs heavily, like he can’t be bothered. Because why would he be bothered, it‘s only his whole fucking ship and first mate and, oh yeah, his fucking matelot that are going to ruins at this rate! “Just relax, maybe? Have a vacation? Catch up on your reading? You’ve worked hard enough, you deserve some down time.”

Nearly anything else Izzy could have endured. He has endured many things - Edward sending him off after a rigged duel hadn’t been the final straw, Edward cutting off his toe hadn’t been the final straw, Stede fucking Bonnet traipsing back like the world owed him a favour hadn’t been the final straw, being demoted hadn’t been the final straw. They hadn’t been good times, but Izzy got through them because at least Edward had still cared, had still wanted him around, had still looked his way sometimes.

The final straw is Edward wanting him out of sight, so he can forget Izzy  ever existed.

 “Edward -” he starts, but stops himself. Also stops the hand reaching out to Edward. Draws a deep breath, reigns in the words he wants to say, shuts off the parts that want to kick and scream. Pulls himself back together.

Edward had chosen Izzy because he is put-together, effective, and good at following directions. “Captain. You could’ve told me this sooner. I would’ve gotten out of your hair.” It’s hard, keeping out the tears and rage out of his voice, and he isn’t sure if a perceptible amount seeped out. He can only hope Spriggs - who is still standing right there like a fucking twat that can’t tell a private affair from a dinner show - can’t read him well enough to know what the quiver means.

 “Try to relax for once in your life, it’s not the end of the world. Maybe start with planning an itinerary for your leave, you like those”, Edward says airily, because to him bookkeeping doesn’t matter. He’s good at nearly all  piracy-related things, and he’s a bloody brilliant sailor, but keeping logs and inventories has never interested him. It isn’t that Izzy particularly likes keeping them, either, it had just fallen to him because he had been the only other literate person on the Queen Anne and a habit is hard to break. Because Edward has never cared for having duties. Because he has never felt like making an effort where it really matters. With anyone that should matter.

 “Captain.”

Izzy doesn’t know why he said it. He doesn’t know what he would continue it with. Edward doesn’t grace him with a response, because what is he supposed to say to such a non-statement? He just waves his hand non-committally and leaves. Izzy stares after him helplessly.

 “Wow, a vacation. What a terrible fate”, Spriggs drawls sarcastically, and Izzy will fucking stab him to death right then and there, he swears he will. His life is already over, Edward can’t threaten him with anything anymore.

But he won’t, because he is good at following orders. No threatening the crew, Captain had said, and so Izzy will obey. Even if it is Spriggs, who was insufferable and has a weird look on his stupid fucking face and can’t tell when he isn’t wanted.

Izzy snatches the broom Spriggs hadn’t been using in the first place and starts swabbing the deck in his stead.

 “Um, Blackbeard literally seconds ago told you to relax, don’t you think -”

 “Let me get my affairs in order!” Izzy snaps at him. Spriggs raises his hands in surrender and doesn’t complain any further.

Izzy spends the rest of the day trying to get the ship in order. He inspects the rigging, provides Feeney with a note of which sails need mending, services the cannons, makes inventory of the weaponry and gunpowder, even scrubs off some barnacles from the hull. The crew give him looks, especially Spriggs, but say nothing. Even Edward says nothing, when he catches Izzy re-organizing the armory. So much for Izzy being like, above that and shit. He isn’t above anything. Isn’t below anything, either. He’s just falling apart inch by inch. He’s cracking at the seams. He’s boiling and he’s melting. He’s doing all the things he isn’t supposed to. He’s pointless. Reverted. Head empty. Gone back to his origins. Or not. He can’t tell, he isn’t coherent. Isn’t a man, at least. For the first time in a year.

The only thing he is anymore is resolute.

When the sun starts going down, and Izzy feels like he’s done as much as he’s able with the time he’s been allowed, he goes to his cabin. It’s only his because no one else wanted it - it’s a miserable trap without a porthole, so the only light comes from the candle Izzy has set on he small table he snagged from the - for heaven’s sake, the fucking rec center, honestly what was fucking wrong with Bonnet - and it gets stuffy in barely an hour when the door is closed. It’s as close to a brig as this bloody joke of a pirate ship has. Izzy imagines it was originally meant to be a storeroom, then was going to be converted into a cabin, but the work had been left unfinished for whatever reason - there is a bunk, and the beginnings of a wall sconce, but nothing else. Izzy could’ve used a bit more comfort, but he’d been happy enough as it provided some privacy. He was never much of a social person, and he also firmly believes in separation of command. Hard to command someone’s respect when you’re palling around with them, which is why Izzy stopped sleeping on the deck with the rest of the crew right as he gained a high enough rank.

Not that Izzy has been commanding much respect lately, anyway. Fucking Bonnet’s crew of fucking disrespectful imbeciles have turned him into a fucking joke that can get nothing done, since he isn’t allowed to beat them. Spriggs is the fucking worst of the lot, looking down his nose at Izzy, studying the best ways to push his buttons, knowing if anything happened then Izzy would get the blame.

Fine. So Spriggs has won. What does it matter anymore. All that’s left for Izzy to do is to put his  meager property in order. He wants to change into a spare outfit, but that would raise suspicions, so he has to keep the black leather on. It’s been a long time since it last felt this uncomfortable. At least the ring feels as natural as it ever has, that one he will keep on gladly. He needs the dagger, but not the sword - on some level he wants to take it with him, because it’s his sword, it’s been with him for a long time and sits in his hand like a friend, but it’s a fine blade and deserves to find a new master. A good one. He hopes Edward will sell it, because no one from this shitty crew was worthy of this sword - apart from Jimenez, skills-wise at least, but personality-wise they’re a vindictive asshole - and Edward himself is more partial to knives. It would sell for good money, so Edward could buy another one of those ridiculous banyans he suddenly likes.

The money Izzy isn’t petty enough to take with him, but the letters he will. He hasn’t kept many of them, only the most important ones - a few from Suzanna, some from Sam, one from Anne. There are none from Edward, because he has never needed to write to Izzy - they have been together for thirty years. Side by side for twenty-five. Estranged for a few months. Apart for eight hours.

He wishes he could take something to weigh him down, but there’s nothing that’s both heavy enough and easily carried, and the last thing he needs is anyone waking up to him dragging his trunk around on the deck. The current should be enough to carry him away from the ship even if he floats, but he would prefer to be sure. He really doesn’t want anyone to see him. Couldn’t take a little teasing, they’d say, or about fucking time. If he just disappears, then they would think he’d finally had enough of this fucking farce and signed on somewhere else. He briefly wonders if Spriggs will keep up the mocking pretense of affection even after Izzy is gone, or if it’s only fun when Izzy’s there to witness it. Jesus fucking Christ, Izzy should’ve just let him die back then, and he would’ve if he’d known Spriggs would become this fucking annoying. Even sparing Edward the moral panic wasn’t worth all the needling. Bare your soul one fucking time and get shit for it for the rest of your life!

He chose the last hour of the morning watch, so the ship would be unguarded for the shortest possible time. Izzy would get to do his deed in secret, but the dawn would wake the rest of the crew soon. It’s a stroke of luck Fang has this watch - Ivan would have done almost as well, but he took longer to fall asleep, leaving Izzy less time. They both know Izzy sometimes has trouble sleeping, and would take over a watch to have something to do. Everyone on the Queen Anne knew Izzy doesn’t do well with idleness - everyone except Edward, evidently.

Or maybe he does. This could be his way of shirking off his duty and going oh well, he didn’t want to stay so there’s nothing I could do. Izzy wouldn’t put it past him. He’s always fucking loathed doing anything he doesn’t like, no matter how detrimental. Case in point, fucking Bonnet.

And now Izzy. Edward knows he should cut anchor, but he doesn’t want to. The reason Izzy can only speculate about, maybe it’s sentimental, maybe it’s practical, though Izzy can’t think of a reason for that - he’s basically doing nothing these days. Maybe it’s just for the amusement of the crew. But one thing is for sure - by this point, it isn’t affection anymore. It burns that Izzy’s been abandoned like this, but he supposes Edward could’ve been crueler about it, and perhaps Izzy himself could’ve been nicer about everything else. It was just - for years, he thought Edward had chosen him, the way Izzy had chosen him in return. To have and to hold, even if the words hadn’t been said. And Izzy has held - kept holding as his matelot slept with other people, kept even when Edward’s interest waned, is still holding when everything is finally over. Because he had chosen the duty to love and to hold Edward until death do them part. But Edward hadn’t taken his part seriously, he’d started dodging his duty almost right away, and then dropped it altogether barely a few years in. It hurts, when you think someone loves you and then it turns out you were just another fling. Anyone would get bitter.

A little past four o’clock, Izzy acts. Puts on his boots and waistcoat like nothing’s wrong, combs his hair, puts on a brave face. Stuffs the letters inside his shirt. Straightens everything out. Goes up on deck.

Fang is up in the crow’s nest.

 “I’ll take over”, Izzy tells him in a tired voice, and little of it is acting. He is exhausted in all the ways a person can be - physically, mentally, spiritually. Fang makes space on the railing, and Izzy goes to lean heavily on it.

 “Can’t sleep again, boss?”

 “Yeah. Still a few hours before sunrise, you can get a nap in.”

Fang gives him an odd look, almost worried, but that can’t be right since it’s directed at Izzy. One: because there has never been a need to worry about Izzy, and two: Fang hates him, anyway.

 “Or I could just keep you company. That’s nice, sometimes.”

It’s been several years since anyone offered to keep Izzy company. At the start of his pirating career, thirty-some years ago, he’d had some friends, and of course Sam. He’d been a different person, then, naturally. As he aged, he became happy with only having one’s person’s affection and attention. Of course, he’s since lost that, too, leaving only those who merely tolerate him and who he tolerates in turn. Mostly it doesn’t bother him - he’s made his bed, and he hasn’t felt like completely overhauling his personality. And now there is no longer a need.

Still... it does feel nice that Fang has noticed something’s off, and cares enough to try a little bit to fix it. Even if his method is the exact opposite of what Izzy wants.

 “Better not. I’m not in a good mood.”

 “That’s even more reason, in my experience”, Fang argues nervously, starting to lean slightly away from Izzy. Expecting a hit, maybe.

 “Go to sleep. I will not repeat myself.”

Fang still hesitates, and his hand goes up to cover his beard. Izzy rarely feels shame for his actions, but this is one of those rare times - strange, since he’s never particularly liked Fang to begin with, and likes him even less after participating in the mutiny against Izzy’s extremely short captaincy. Granted, he’d basically been trying to incite a mutiny so he really shouldn’t be blaming Fang and Ivan. But there isn’t much you can do about feelings.

Unfortunately.

 “Sorry for pulling your beard all those times.”

Fang forces an awkward smile, and finally climbs down. He’ll likely bunk down next to Spriggs and Pete. He’s been smitten ever since getting his cock sketched. Izzy never knew he was that easy, but then again, Spriggs is a special kind of fruit. Novelty can be surprisingly enticing.

Izzy enjoys the darkness and quiet for a while. He isn’t as good at reading the stars as Edward is, because no one is as good at it as Edward. He had taught Izzy a little, but he’s a bad teacher - because he’s so good at everything, he’s terrible at explaining anything. He just gets it, he doesn’t need to think about it. And he’s a fucking show-off, too, loves withholding information so he’ll look like a wizard when an unexpected fog rolls in or something. Fucking sausage clouds. Izzy can’t blame Bonnet for falling for Edward, because who wouldn’t have? Fucking magnificent twat.

After a while, everything on deck is quiet. Everyone in deep sleep. Even the moon is hidden behind the clouds, like it doesn’t want to spy on anything that happens. Just in time before sunrise, even. For once Izzy’s plans are going perfectly. He climbs down quickly, then walks quietly to the empty poopdeck - they’re anchored, so there was no need for a helmsman, thus no one to see him moving about. There’s a bit of wind, making the ship creak quietly, masking small noises, so maybe he’s being overly cautious, but Izzy hasn’t grown this old by being careless. He can only hope the splash won’t be heard over the waves. It is a fairly high drop, after all, and Izzy won’t have much control of how he falls in.

He stares down at the black water.

It... it should be warm. It’s the middle of winter, but it’s not like the Caribbean actually gets cold at any point in the year, so it would make sense for the water to be warm. At least it shouldn’t be cold. He won’t be feeling it for long in either case, but Izzy would still prefer his final moments to be warm. The biggest reason he left England had been to stop feeling so fucking uncomfortable in his own skin, but the shitty fucking weather that was always either wet or cold, or often enough both at the same time, had been a close second.

He draws in a breath, and lifts himself up on the railing. He takes a moment to take in the night air one final time, and lets himself enjoy. He was made for the sea, and all in all, he hasn’t had a bad life. He got most of the things he had asked for, and for a short moment he even had Edward’s love. Even more than that, he got all those while riding the waves in his own wooden kingdom, at home.

 “Izzy.”

He nearly drops in prematurely as Edward’s voice suddenly pipes up behind him.

 “What the fuck are you doing up? It’s still over an hour until sunrise!” Izzy scream-whispers, still wary of the crew. He doesn’t hear them stirring, and since he didn’t heard Edward coming he doubts they did, either, but you can’t blame him for being on edge. The whole point of doing this at night, alone, in the poopdeck, was so no one would see him! And now Edward has. Why not stick the knife in his neck right then and there if he’s been caught, anyway. Goddamnit.

Fuck, he really could’ve done without the attention, not like he’s getting it any time he asks so why does fate have to fuck him over like this?

 “Knee’s acting up, needed to move it a bit. Thought you could use the company.”

Right, so Fang went to get him. Otherwise no one would know Izzy was on watch in his stead. Fucking tattletale. Should’ve pulled his beard after all.

 “Don’t need it. Go back to bed.” Back to Bonnet.

 “You giving orders to your captain?” Edward warns, and usually that voice would send a thrill down Izzy’s spine. But finally his body has gotten the memo, and knows it won’t lead to anything. He just sighs and turns back to the sea, so he won’t have to see Edward’s mussed up hair, trimmed beard, green banyan. His resigned eyes.

If Hell turns out to be real, Izzy’s greatest regret would be never getting to see Edward’s doe eyes again.

 “You really going?”

Izzy’s hands grip the railing tight, and he feels his face twist in defensive anger.

 “Fucking Bonnet won’t let me be first mate, you won’t let me be crew, I’m just - doing fuck-all while the rest of you play house. I can’t stay here.” And I can’t start over again with someone else, he doesn’t say out loud, because that would sound pointlessly needy when Edward can’t understand that some people don’t just move on.

And Edward just sighs. He can barely muster together enough of a fuck to make a fucking noise when his first mate and matelot of twenty five fucking years is about to fucking die. Izzy would’ve been less offended if he’d stayed silent and just fucked off.

A tense moment passes, where Izzy refuses to look at Edward, and Edward doesn’t bother doing anything. Until there’s another fucking sigh, and Izzy almost throttles him.

 “If that’s what you want, then I won’t stop you.” Because why would he, when he so clearly wants this. He can’t wait for Izzy to fuck off out of his life. “Look, Iz, I know you’ve been unhappy, and I’m sorry for making -”

 “Don’t fucking start with that pansy-ass bullshit -”

 “No, I will.” And it’s such a tragedy that this is the time when the old Blackbeard comes closest to making a comeback. Edward’s eyes have that steel in them again, his body moves with the dangerous languor of a gun ready to fire, and his voice accepts no arguments. At that moment, he returns to being Izzy’s Captain, and angry as he is, he can’t help but be compelled to obey. This is what had drawn him to Edward in the first place, his confident authority, his violent magnetism. “Stede’s taught me that talking is good. Think it would’ve done us some good, even.” But then his authority fades again, and he returns to being Stede fucking Bonnet’s boytoy. Izzy can’t understand that, for the life of him he cannot fathom what compels Edward to Bonnet the way Edward compels Izzy. “Just... too late to start now, I guess. But I’m sorry I’ve made you not want to stay.”

It is too little too late, after the last few years, he’s right about that, but Izzy’s cold bitch of a heart has never known how to not melt at Edward. So he forgives Edward, of course he does. Suddenly he’s glad Edward is there, oddly comforted by his presence. Izzy’s life had really only begun when he met Edward, and now it will end, with Edward still next to him. A life encapsulated in Edward. His Captain.

He smiles, just a little bit, without meaning to. Perhaps he doesn’t matter much to Edward anymore, but nothing could erase those early years when they’d been the centers of each other’s worlds.

Izzy slips the ring off his cravat. He stopped believing in any kind of afterlife early on in his life, so he needs no reminders of Edward. And maybe Edward, who will keep living, doesn’t want reminders - but he could choose to think of it as Izzy giving him permission to be with Bonnet.

And judging by the brightened look in his eyes, he does choose to think of it like that.

 “Not asking you to think of me or anything. Throw it out of you want to.” But secretly he hopes Edward will keep it, and think of him.

 “I’ll keep it safe.” And Edward says nothing more, just slips the ring into a pocket, then stares out to the sea, in silence.

So that’s how thirty years go down the drain - quietly. Izzy supposes he should feel angry that his dedication means so little, that Edward hasn’t tried to make him reconsider even once, but in a rare event, he just feels calm. He hadn’t wanted to turn this into a number, and Edward hadn’t. He gave Edward a  memento, and Edward promised to keep it. He had made a decision, and Edward hadn’t countered it. Izzy has gotten all he asked out of this.

He makes a light chuckle as he draws the dagger from its holster. “Would be nice if you did the honors. Starting and ending this whole thing.” But Edward can’t, for reasons Izzy has never understood. Even so, Izzy can honor them one last time.

He fiddles with the dagger in his hand. Just one quick slice, should be easy. Doesn’t even need to be deep, the sea would take care of the rest. Just one quick slice.

His hands are not shaking as he lifts the dagger to his neck, they are not shaking. Just one quick slice, justonequickslice.

 “Izzy?”

Just one quick slice.

 “Izzy -! MAN OVERBOARD, MAN OVERB-”

[theradioghost]

it is somehow both exciting and sad to see the newer waves of fiction podcast people getting into wolf 359 because I’m like. there’s so much i don’t think a lot of them know about. sure, fandom stuff like our aggressive stabby the roomba phase, or the unique mental state of the season 2-3 hiatus, et cetera.

but like. do they know about the many many q&as? “kepler’s been riding jacobi hard for years”? the ars paradoxica remix of succulent rat-killing tar? do they know about maxwell and jacobi’s secret cameo in the live show video?? everyone’s birthdays??? the old blog stuff from gabriel with all the extra character tidbits??? the complete pryce and carter??? ALAN RODI’S PUPPETS?????

because I want them to know!!!!!! I want them to have all that joy!!!!!!! they’re getting to experience that wonderful, wonderful rollercoaster for the first time and I want them to have the best fucking ride ever!!!!!!!

[pulchrasilva]

Rubber Duck Debugging

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Romantic analogical, mentioned platonic logince and prinxiety

Characters: Logan, Virgil (others mentioned)

Summary: Logan finds another benefit of having a stuffed toy: a method known by software engineers as ‘rubber duck debugging’. He’s not so good when it comes to feelings, but some problems can be solved just by having someone to talk them through with.

Word Count: 1186

Warnings: Self-doubt, crush related awkwardness, very brief mention of seduction, unreality (maybe? logan talks to the plushie like it's talking back)

Note: inspired by this post by @korruptbrekker

Read on AO3 // My Masterpost

Logan shot through the floor of his room at an alarming speed. It was a completely illogical thought, as he hadn’t come through a door, but he had a sudden urge to slam one shut and lean his whole weight against it.

He sighed.

Well, that was mortifying.

To his horror, Logan’s already pink face reddened further as his mind drifted back to the interaction.

Virgil’s form, curled up on the window sill and shining under the incoming shafts of light. Virgil’s skin burning against his own where their fingers brushed, a borrowed book passed between them. Virgil’s crooked smile and his murmured, “thanks, L.”

It was so ordinary, but it set his heart racing despite that. It was all so horribly mundane, but it sent Logan running.

He groaned as he remembered how he’d become a spluttering mess at such a small interaction with – as Roman would say, and has said many times already – his crush.

It was ridiculous. He had interacted with Virgil every day for as long as he could remember, without ever encountering these problems. But recently, as they became closer, as a comfortable affection grew between them, Logan found himself becoming uncharacteristically flustered.

Everything he’d been planning to say – ‘of course, Virgil’, and ‘it’s no problem, Virgil’ and ‘what did you think of it, Virgil, what was your favourite part?’ It all flew out of his head the moment he had a chance to speak, leaving his mouth silently opening and closing like a machine missing a key piece of code.

Logan tugged his hands through his hair, agitated just thinking about it. He wanted to scream.

But he was suddenly distracted from his frustration when his eye caught on something out of place in his room. One of the new plushies had moved from its home with the others displayed on his bedside table.

A miniature representation of Virgil sat right in the middle of his pillow, facing him and glaring.

Logan blinked.

“Don’t look at me like that!”

The plushie didn’t react in any way other than to keep glaring.

“I mean it,” he warned, drawing closer to the bed. “I’m trying my best here.”

It was completely irrational, but the plushie seemed to raise an eyebrow.

“I am!” he insisted. “And you’re not making it any easier by judging me.”

Logan sat his bed, sighing, and picked up the soft toy.

“It’s just…” he trailed off, hesitant to say such a thing out loud. When he finally admitted it, his voice was little more than a whisper. “I’m not any good at this.”

Virgil’s face softened slightly, and Logan felt encouraged to continue.

“I’m not used to it,” he said louder. “I’ve been… feeling so much, and I don’t know how I can hold all of it inside me. I don’t know what to do with everything I feel. Everything I want.”

Like what? Virgil asked.

“Like… like how much I want to be near him. Like how every time he looks at me I feel like I’ll explode.” Logan’s words sped up, a dopey grin settling on his face. “I love spending time with him, and when I’m alone I just can’t stop thinking about him. It’s really distracting!” he giggled.

“I just…” Logan sighed. “I like him. I really, really like him.”

So tell him, Virgil urged.

His smile dropped.

“I can’t.”

Why not?

“Because I can’t! I don’t know how!” Logan cried. “I’m not warm or funny like Patton. I can’t make impassioned declarations of my undying love like Roman. I’m not smooth, and I’m certainly not seductive like Janus.”

Logan flopped backwards, bouncing slightly as he hit the bed.

“I’m just me.”

So what? Virgil demanded.

“So… so I can’t.”

Logan dropped the plushie on his chest, like that would get rid of the pit in his stomach. He pushed up his glasses and rubbed his hands over his face.

He paused.

Then he picked the plushie up and brought it to his face.

He likes you, it said.

“Yes. Yes, that’s what Roman says. Romance is his job, so I suppose he should know. And he and Virgil are close.” Logan smiled slightly. “He says that Virgil talks about me all the time.”

He likes you.

“Yes,” Logan agreed. “You just said that.”

Virgil glared again. He. Likes. You.

Logan thought about that for a minute.

Virgil liked him.

Virgil liked him, without needing anything special. Virgil liked him just for the days spent in each other’s company. All it took was sharing beloved books and movies; sitting with each other as they completed different tasks, music filling the space between them; nights spent in the Imagination watching the stars together.

Maybe Logan didn’t have the jokes or the words or the smooth voice that the others had. It didn’t matter. Virgil didn’t like them, not in the same way. Virgil liked him.

Virgil liked Logan, for Logan.

So maybe Logan could tell Virgil just how much he liked him after all. He wasn’t good at expressing his emotions, but he could learn.

The plushie smirked at him, like it knew it had won.

“No need to be smug,” Logan told it.

Then he stopped.

This was ludicrous. He was talking to a plushie, just some fabric and a bit of stuffing.

It helped though, Virgil pointed out.

Logan huffed a laugh. He couldn’t ignore the first-hand data staring him in the face. “Yes, I suppose it did.”

He brought Virgil to his chest, tucked him under his chin, and squeezed. Almost immediately, he felt the same reduction in cortisol that Virgil had been talking about earlier.

There was a small pop beside his bed.

“Hey, L, are you ready for-”

Logan shot upright, hastily dropping the stuffed version of Virgil and standing to stare at the real side.

“Virgil! How can I help you?”

He tried very hard to ignore the heat creeping up his neck.

“Uh…” Virgil frowned, confused. “Doctor Who binge-watch. That’s today, right?”

“Oh, yes!” Logan cursed himself for losing track of the time. This had been in his schedule for ages! “You remembered!”

“Well, yeah,” Virgil muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ve been looking forward to it for weeks.”

It was hard to tell under his foundation, but Logan thought Virgil was blushing.

“Me too,” he replied softly.

Virgil was definitely blushing.

Soon they were seated on the bed, laptop open in front of them and the theme tune playing. Virgil was watching intently and Logan watched him watching, excited to finally see his reaction to this beloved show.

They had an assortment of snacks spread across the bedsheets, Logan’s concerns about crumbs being waved off with, “a few imaginary crumbs won’t hurt you”.

Yes, Logan thought as Virgil tore into the bag of popcorn. Yes, he could tell him.

He spotted the plushie, sitting once again with its family on the bedside table. Maybe it was just the low light, but it seemed to smile at him.

Maybe there was an element of truth to what Patton said about stuffed toys being alive after all.