#we actually had quite a few deaths recently

[sarcasticbabywhispererjess]

A couple of the nurses on my unit are doing a study on moral distress, so at least one shift a week they’ll pass out surveys to rank how morally distressed you’re feeling and why. Monday night was one such night (when I was caring for the very sick baby in my last post). I was very busy and barely had time to sit and chart for longer than 20mins at a stretch. The nurse came up to me at the end of the shift, “George, did you get a chance to fill out your survey?” She knew full well that I hadn’t.

Me, “Sure fucking didn’t.” and I handed back the blank survey to her. She just laughed and walked away with it. 

[hazeldragonblossoms]

aita for trying to summon a god to resurrect my wife?

i (142m) recently lost my wife (139f) to terminal illness. we were married for nearly 127 years, and were survivors of a disaster that destroyed our home city and killed nearly everyone in it. she was my best friend, the love of my life, and the light of my world. i’ve spent months trying to move on, but the pain of losing her has only grown stronger since her death, with my grief eventually leading me to quit my job and travel in the hopes of finding something else to live for. i will be upfront in admitting that, in the process of quitting, i blew up the school i worked at (no one was hurt), almost killed my assistant (he’s fine), and released a bunch of monsters from the abandoned gated community i had contained them in a few decades prior (long story).

anyway, during my travels i came across a relic that contained immense necromantic power, but i quickly realized that i would be unable to utilize it for my purposes on my own, as my wife had been dead for several months by that time and was well past the point of resurrection by conventional means. long story short, i decided to harness the power of the same god that caused the disaster that destroyed my and my wife’s former home.

as it turns out, my former boss (????m) picked up a kid (13x) off the street around the same time this was happening, and tasked my brother (also 142m, we’re twins) with teaching them magic. i won’t bore you with the details, but this thirteen year old now keeps following me around and fucking up my plans to reunite with my true love, which i’m frankly tired of.

(side note: this kid also won a fighting competition that hasn’t been won by someone from our school since i attended. i need to remind you, they are thirteen. i’m not certain they’d ever used magic before my boss picked them up, so i have no idea how this possibly could have happened, or when they had the time to even attend the fights since they’ve seemingly dedicated the majority of their time to fucking me over for no good reason.)

my ex-boss seems to think that summoning this being is a “bad idea” and could “destroy the world,” but 1. i’m doing it in my already ruined hometown and 2. i think that the world is a small price to pay to have my wife back. it’s not like it’s worth much without her in it, anyway.

edit: shut up about the fucking giant tree it’s an unrelated current event. you can’t prove that i actually did anything to him, and it’s rude to accuse people baselessly

[coffee-seedy]

Valentine's day

Day 1: Neuvillette, Zhongli, Alhaitham

Warning: blood (on zhongli part), angst no comfort.

a/n: Valentine should be romantic and happy, but I hate those :)

Neuvillette

The Iudex of Fontaine always maintains the Fontaine rule as its number two priority, wait shouldn't it be number one? the other number has been filled in by his lovely wife of course. after married for a few years, he's now a bit understanding of human feelings, thanks to his wife teaching him about human emotions.

There's always a special day every year he always celebrates with you, like valentine, but valentine this year is different. you recently got an commission and it was a week before valentine's, he told you not too but you were stubborn enough to listen to him, so you leave and never come back. he thought you had finally left him for good because of his behavior, but no, you were actually attacked on the way home and disappeared. The fontaine has been raining for a week

But after a year passed since you last found, a researcher found your body frozen inside a block of ice, it's like you've been given cryo vision before the death took you, leaving you trapped inside this huge ice block. they took you back to fontaine to melt the ice block, after it melt everything look just fine only bruise and no deep wound, neuvillette or your husband heard this news and immediately left his job and immediately came to your side. he found you now, it's just you fell into a deep coma for quite a long time.

the Fontaine has been raining for a month straight, how strange.

Zhongli

Zhongli the most knowledgeable man you ever meet and married, he looks like a walking library that always filled with history. Valentine day is a must for you, so he always suprise you with an expensive dinner date and new outfits, we know who's mora he used.

Another Valentine's Day, but this time he wants to take you to the special place he has planned, Qinyung Peak. even though that place is full of unforgettable memories to him, he has you now he thought. he said he would go first to Qinyung peak to prepare everything and has given you a route to get there.

He thought this valentine day would be like the other year, always perfect, but don't get expectations too high he said. He realized that you hadn't come yet, even though it was already past the estimated time, he had feeling that something bad has happen, he immediately left the place and went to get you. and sure enough, he found you covered in blood on one of the rocks there, whoever killed you just woke up the former Geo Archon.

Let's say there is a powerful earthquake for more than a week until the culprit is found.

Alhaitham

people who don't know Alhaitham of course think he doesn't have a partner for valentine's day, oh but they are wrong. There is one person who is so attached to Alhaitham that many people think it is his younger siblings, even though it's not, Alhaitham is not the type of person who shows pda so your relationship is well kept secret till now.

Valentine's day has come, and you are planning to give your dear boyfriend a new book and of course chocolate too! when you knock at his door, you can hear his voice telling you to come in, he knows it's you when knocked, you have your way to knock.

You opened the door to his office and closed it again to give both of you privacy. approaching him, you handed him the new book and the chocolate at the same time, but he didn't turn to look at your gift, just told you to put the gift on the table and leave the room.

You thought that he was busy and didn't want to be disturbed, so you kiss his cheek and said goodbye to him. The next day, Alhaitham didn't come to your house to get his lunch box, so because you are a kind partner, you chose to bring his lunch box. When passing through the akademiya hall, you hear the students there talking about the acting grand sage who threw away his Valentine's chocolate.

You immediately stopped in your tracks and looked at the lunch you wanted to bring for him, 'is he going to throw it away like he did the chocolate you made yesterday?' because you were afraid that he would actually do it, you chose to give Alhaitham's lunch to his old senior Kaveh so that no food is wasted. at lunch break, Alhaitham doesn't care if he forgets to get his lunch...

it's just how Kaveh got his lunch box?

Part 2?

[venusdandy]

God's Rival [Part 1]

[Hazbin Hotel x GN!reader] [Platonic]

Story Summary: The Demiurge is what they decided to call you. You aren't human, angel, or demon. You're something else entirely—an enigma in each realm. The only being who had ever shown you kindness was the fallen angel Lucifer since he freed you from Heaven's prison by offering Eve the apple from your tree. You promised him a fruitful favor in exchange, but he has not asked anything from you. Until now, that is.

Chapter Summary: After the death of Adam, the residents of the Hazbin Hotel discuss ideas of how to protect Hell from Heaven's potential wrath. Reluctantly, Lucifer mentions he knows someone who owes him a favor and quite literally may be the only deity able to help them.

Warnings: Gender-neutral reader (they/them pronouns). No use of (y/n). The reader is genderless and AroAce—platonic relationships with the characters only.

The reader gets referred to as the "mother of chaos" once (in the same way one refers to mother nature). Nifty calls the reader a "bad boy" once (before meeting them). The reader is only referenced in this chapter without appearing yet.

Part 1 [Here] Part 2

The residents of the Hotel are gathered in their new lounge discussing the most recent extermination, or more specifically, Adam's death and the consequences. Heaven hasn't made any contact with Hell yet, but then again, it's only been a few days.

"I still think my idea is better," Angel smirks as he leans back on the couch comfortingly.

Vaggie growls with frustration, but Charlie quickly intervenes by gently touching her lover's shoulders. "Angel, we appreciate your help, but um," Charlie smiles tensely, "I don't think you seducing the angels in Heaven will help."

Angel shrugs. "Best idea anyone's had in the last hour."

Well, he isn't wrong. They've been severely lacking in the brainstorming department. After the conclusion that killing the first man has undoubtedly set off alarms in Heaven, for the past three and a half hours, they've all been discussing potential ideas to protect Hell from Heaven.

So far, Husk has thrown out that they should just set Nifty loose in Heaven (which Vaggie actually considered), Alastor has been making angelic puns (not at all helping), and Charlie has been pitching many civil plans to persuade Heaven (all her plans are in song form).

Lucifer has been very quiet throughout this. He's only been partially listening to everyone, as he is too focused on his worries. He's been mentally debating bringing up his idea; it's potentially the only way they'd stand a chance against all of Heaven's wrath.

But so much could go wrong. . .

Charlie must have noticed the faraway look in her father's eyes. She gently calls out to Lucifer, making him jolt out of his thoughts. He straightened up in the armchair and forced a smile. "Yes, Char-Char?"

Charlie holds one of her dad's hands with concern. "Are you okay? We can take a break if it's too much."

Lucifer sighs, letting his body sink into the chair, and his smile drops. "No, no, it's okay. I just. . .I have an idea."

Charlie perks up at this, a big smile shining on her face. "That's great!"

Lucifer opens his mouth but closes it again. He really doesn't want to mention you, but they've been shoved in a corner, and it's starting to look like only you can break down the walls.

With a reluctant sigh, Lucifer asks the others, "Have you heard of the Demiurge?"

Alastor hums with amusement as his grin stretches. "If you don't have ideas, there's no need to make up words. Just admit that little head of yours is empty!"

Lucifer, unknowingly falling for Alastor's rage bait, glares at him. "I'm not making up words, you oversized dried cherry! That's their title!". Lucifer then specifies your actual name.

Charlie clears her throat, awkwardly trying to distract the two demons. "Okay, let's calm down and hear what Dad's idea is."

Lucifer crosses his arms, still glaring at Alastor as he explains. "The Demiurge is responsible for a lot but mostly known for creating the mortal realm and overall shaping the material world. They're the maintainer of chaos."

Husk scoffs and mumbles under his breath, "Did a shit job maintaining the chaos in my life."

Charlie anxiously shifts her weight from leg to leg. 'Maintainer of chaos' doesn't sound very appealing. "Soooo, are they. . .nice?"

Lucifer finally looks away from Alastor; his smile is pissing him off more anyway, and he shifts his body to face his daughter. "Nice?" Lucifer repeats, "Maybe? From what I remember, they treated their creations with kindness."

"Creations?" Vaggie asks with a raised brow, "What does that mean? Like weapons or. . .?"

"Life.", Lucifer clarifies, "The Demiurge is capable of creating intelligent life forms."

This hooks everyone's attention. Even Nifty stops herself from stabbing a bug and looks up curiously. The little unfortunate bug quickly scurries across the floorboards, trying to escape, only for Nifty to leap at it again with her knife closing in on it.

"Like God? The fuck?" Angel asks with astonishment.

Lucifer nods. "They're powerful, so I thought about summoning them to help us since they owe me a favor anyway."

"Favor?", Charlie asks curiously and slightly worried.

Lucifer was about to explain further but decided to tell the Demiurge's origins so everyone could better understand who you are.

With a wave of his hand, a large and old book of the universe's secrets lands in Lucifer's lap. He opens it to the exact page of your tale and takes a deep breath before reading out loud.

.

"Before time, there was only the Celestial power in a realm called Heaven. But that power balance began to tip when an unknown angel mothered a deity with unbelievable divine powers that she abandoned their child in a clouded realm. The young deity lived for millennium alone, thinking they were the only being in existence. With no guidance from their mother, their power was disorganized, and they created galaxies, planets, and even complex life forms in their clouded realm.

After discovering the mysterious deity and their divine powers, Heaven deemed them a possible threat to the universe's balance. Questions rang in Heaven, wondering where this God-like creature came from. Only one angel knew who the deity was and where they came from, but she stayed quiet in fear she would be punished. It was her very own sinful thoughts and overwhelming emotions that had birthed her child.

The deity was elated to witness life forms they did not create, as they were not as alone as they formerly thought. At first, knowledge was transferred in civil conversations to understand each other's existence. The deity showed their realm, and in turn, the angels showed theirs. Heaven was more lenient towards them after witnessing their calm and happy nature. The deity behaved much like an angel, Heaven thought, so they let them remain in their realm of creation.

It was during that time the deity discovered they had a mother and how she abandoned them over her selfish desire to protect herself. The deity then lashed out with exasperated grief. The one who gave them life was ashamed of them. Their creations began behaving more aggressively and rigidly as the deity's emotions swam in negativity. Once again, Heaven became alarmed by the deity's power. They threatened the deity to stop, or Heaven would have no choice but to force them to stop by the power of the Heavenly Father. But the deity was too far lost in their rage of despair to listen. So, Heaven destroyed the deity's creations to almost extinction and trapped their soul within an apple tree. This massive tree became known as The Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil.

After 65 million years, the Heavenly Father created the first humans within the Garden of Eden. As long as the humans didn't eat the forbidden apples of The Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil, they would live a pleasant life under God's guidance.

But, the life balance for humans forever shifted when Eve accepted the apple from the serpent and took a bite.

The Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil vibrated until it burst into golden flames. The deity stood freely with their power surging through their veins once again. There was no longer only peace; now, there was chaos in the world.

That was the rebirth of The Demiurge."

.

After Lucifer finishes reading the timeless tale, he gently closes his book and teleports it to where it belongs with cloudy red magic. It's been a few millennia since he's sat down and read the origins of the Demiurge like this.

Nifty squeals from her spot on the floor laying on her stomach, kicking her feet in the air. "A bad boy!" She giggles.

Lucifer quickly clutches his fists in his lap as he realizes he's shaking with anxiety. Honestly, Lucifer does NOT want to call upon you. So many things could go wrong, and the first thing that comes to mind is how awkward it'll be. He can't just be like, 'Oh hey, haven't seen you since Eden! Could you fight Heaven and protect Hell for us? Thanks!' ABSOLUTELY NOT!

The second reason is that Lucifer has only a vague idea of what you're capable of. He knows you're powerful; he was one of the angels investigating you and your realm of life.

You treat your creations with love and gentleness, as Lucifer's father does with his creations. But you're the Demiurge, maintainer of chaos. Your mere existence allowed chaos and evil to spread in human souls. What motivates you? What are your aspirations?

. . .And would you be a threat to Charlie?

Vaggie's eyes are narrowed, glaring at where the book just was. Having the radio demon managing the hotel is enough of a risk as is; she will not allow some powerful entity- the maintainer of chaos, that is, anywhere near Charlie.

Husk is the first to break the tense silence with a slight smirk on his lips. "That's some serious mommy issues."

Angel snorts. "Careful, whiskers, the Boogieman might just catch ya for saying shit like that."-he suddenly scoots closer to Husk on the couch, invading his personal space. "But don't ya worry, I'll hold ya real close for safety!"

Without even looking at Angel, Husk shoves him off the couch. "OOF!"

"Boogieman?" Alastor asks with some amusement.

Angel sits up on the floor and shrugs in response. "They sound creepy, like the Boogieman." Angel grins wide with a laugh, "Hey, maybe you and them will get along then, Smiles!"

Alastor only raises a brow at Angel's comment. If anything, the Demiurge will most likely piss him off like Lucifer does. But either way, he's deathly curious about you. What exactly can you do? Or rather, what can he exploit from you?

Lucifer groans and throws his head back against the armchair. "I don't know if we should ask the Demiurge for help. . ."

Charlie quickly shakes her head. "What, why? You said they can help, and they owe you a favor anyway! We have to ask, at least!"

Vaggie rests a hand on her lover's shoulder. "I'm not sure about this either, Charlie. This isn't your average favor exchange."

Charlie is about to argue more but closes her mouth. She bobs her side to side in acknowledgment. "Yeah. . .but Dad freed them from the tree, and helping us protect Hell from Heaven is sorta like freeing us, right?"

Now, Vaggie nods but sighs in exasperation. "Babe, we can't trust the maintainer of chaos who, might I remind you, brought evil into the world."

Lucifer, without a second thought, jumps to your defense, "Now, I wouldn't say they brought evil into the world. Evil already existed; human souls at the time couldn't comprehend evil. That's how they were originally designed. The Demiurge brought the ability for humans to understand evil, and I gave humans free will." He rubs his neck awkwardly and mumbles, "And I mean, it was their world before Heaven took control of it."

Husk scratches his chin in thought. "Sounds like they'd be eager to fight Heaven if that's the case."

Charlie claps her hands together in determination. "Exactly! I'm not for the idea of revenge, but they already aren't on good terms with Heaven. And it sounds like we- as, in Hell, are on neutral terms with them?"

Lucifer nods, but he's still not convinced he should summon you. . . Indeed, you've never shown malice towards Hell, but you've also never shown any signs of supporting Hell.

Well, you've shown respect for his family, which he is confident of. Lucifer can recall how each year, on his and Lilith's anniversary, they'd receive a generous gift from the Demiurge. They especially received a lot of gifts from you for the baby shower Lilith held for the nearing birth of Charlie.

Now that Lucifer is thinking about the Demiurge more, how'd you even know these dates? Neither he nor Lilith invited you to their wedding or baby shower, yet you still sent them gifts. Lucifer always assumed word had got around, and that's how you heard of it, but you were always so precise with the timing, too.

For instance, when their marriage started going South, instead of receiving one gift from the Demiurge on their anniversary for them to share, Lucifer and Lilith received their own uniquely catered gift. He was so emotionally distraught back then that he never realized how odd and borderline creepy that was. How could you have possibly known that Lilith and him weren't doing well? Not to mention how after they split apart, they received no gifts from you! How do you know all of this?! Are you hiding in his castle walls or something?!

Alastor knocks his cane against the wooden floorboards to gather everyone's attention. "I must agree with our dear Princess! We need extra assistance for what's to come, and it sounds like the Demiurge is the one for it."

Lucifer glares at Alastor. Well, now that he knows Alastor wants you to be summoned, Lucifer wants to summon you even less now!

"Plus!" Alastor continues with a stretching smile, "Our little King and the Demiurge are bound by a contract! They must fulfill their end of the bargain whether they want to or not."

"Preferably wanting to!" Charlie quickly adds, "Actually, only wanting to! We aren't forcing anyone to do anything they aren't comfortable doing!" Alastor subtly rolls his eyes.

Lucifer takes a breath in through his teeth at that realization. "Uhhhh, we didn't shake on it soooo. . ."

Vaggie immediately facepalms. "Are you serious right now?!"

Alastor's neck snaps at an angle toward Lucifer. "You didn't. . .Make an official deal? Then what makes you think this creature of chaos would willingly do you a favor?"

Lucifer stands from his chair with a glare and points an accusing finger at Alastor, "Excuse me for having more important things on my mind like, I don't know, getting out of Eden alive!"

Alastor's brows furrow together with irritation, and his smile sits tightly. Leaning onto his cane for stability, he bends forward to reach Lucifer's much shorter height. "You're excused."

Lucifer starts rolling up his sleeves. "Alright, you pompous prick-"

"Okay! That's enough!" Charlie quickly intervenes by leaping between the two demons with a nervous smile. "How about we finish this discussion tomorrow after thinking more about it? Sound fair?"

Reluctantly, Lucifer backs off, blowing air out his nostrils with pent-up anger. Alastor shows no further vexation as he straightens up, firmly placing his hands on his cane.

From the floor, Angel raised one of his hands. "So, question about the Demiurge."

Lucifer sighs with exhaustion but brings his full attention to Angel anyway. "Ask away; I'll answer the best I can."

Angel smirks as he asks, "What do they look like? Are they sexy?"

Husk and Vaggie groan at the question, not even surprised. At that, Husk stands from the couch and goes to the bar. He needs a drink—or maybe 12.

Lucifer, on the other hand, was genuinely pondering the question, the first half at least. "Uhh, from what I remember, the more humanoid form they take on have ears and a tail like a lion and golden scales on the edges of their face, around their eyes, and just scattered around their body, I think."

The term 'humanoid form' catches Alastor's attention. According to Lucifer, it sounds like the Demiurge is a creature that naturally doesn't look like a human and instead takes on that form, most likely for simplicity purposes. From the spiritual knowledge Alastor has gathered throughout his time in Hell, he's come to find that beings of higher ranks typically have a more abstract form. In that form, they are the most powerful, so to harness and control their magic, they take on a humanoid form.

"How interesting," Alastor hums, "A feline and a reptile."

Finally standing up, Angel whistles with a grin. "I've been with both, and I gotta tell ya, those scaley motherfu-"

Angel gets cut off by Vaggie punching him in the gut with the dull end of her spear. "Shut the fuck up, Angel!". Angel only laughs as he clutches his stomach.

Charlie winces and immediately but gently grabs her lover's elbows, making Vaggie lower her spear. "Okay, I think it's time to get ready for bed now."

The residents of the Hotel each do their nightly routine before ending the eventful day in their respective rooms. Though, with the most recent events taking place, they all find difficulty relaxing.

Can the Demiurge truly help them. . .?

They can only hope so.

[goldenempyrean]

I'm Better With You

〚 Notes - First Addison fic so I'm just testing the waters here, Ill likely write for her in the future so feel free to send requests for her :)〛

〚 Pairing - Addison Montgomery x Reader 〛

〚 Summary - You find Addison sitting in the rain after a rough surgery. You take it upon yourself to make sure she's cared for 〛

〚 Wordcount - 6,040 〛

〘 Check Out My Masterlist! 〙

╚════════ ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ ════════╝

“What on earth are doing standing out here in the rain like that?” The sound of your shocked voice made Addison jump out of her thoughts from the bench she had been sitting on. A bench was completely unsheltered for the pouring Seattle rain. “You’re completely and utterly soaked! You’ve gotta get back inside and dry off.” 

Addison blinked up at you through the mist of rain dripping from her soaked red hair, a distant look in her eyes. "I needed some air.” She mumbled weakly, her eyes not quite meeting your own. 

You shook your head softly, taking off your coat and pulled it over her shoulders, “There’s getting air and then there’s sitting in a downpour. You’ll catch your death out here.” Your hand reached down to hers and gently tugged, letting her know it was time to get up, “Come back inside.” 

Addison seemed to hesitate for a short second as your hand tugged gently at hers, her body shivering as the cold rain continued to soak through her clothes. For a moment, it seemed like she might refuse, but then her shoulders slumped, and she finally let herself be pulled to her feet. 

“I wasn’t thinking properly.” She murmured, voice low as the two of you stood in the doorway, the heat from inside the building seeped out and she already felt a little warmer. “I just.. I needed to get out of there.”  

You couldn’t stop your face switching from one of concern to sympathy. You’d heard from an intern that she’d been in the OR for the last few hours and if her demeanour was anything to go by, it hadn’t gone well, “It’s okay, just breathe. You’re okay but next time you need to get some fresh air, maybe try a beneath a shelter?” 

You reached up to reposition your coat which had slipped off her shoulders a little, “Or were you purposely going for the ‘recently drowned’ look?” The joke made her smile a little, a small smile but a smile nonetheless and you took the chance to kiss her cheek before taking her back inside. 

Once inside, Addison finally realised how cold she actually was. Shivers ran over her arms as goosebumps rippled over her skin. She pulled your coat on tighter as she mumbled, “Thanks for bringing me in.” 

“You don’t have to thank me Addie,” You smiled and ran your hand through her soaked hair, “Do you have anymore things you need to do today? I finish in an hour then we can both head home and cosy up?” You offered, knowing what Addison needed after days like this was a hot bath, some good food and cuddles. 

Her eyes flicked up to meet yours for a brief second before she nodded, though she didn’t say anything right away. She looked drained, her usual composed expression cracked around the edges. She sighed and let her shoulders slump before finally speaking, “Home sounds good, I’m done for today.”  

“I thought so, I’ll be out by 7 at the very latest. I’ll meet you back home?”  

You watched with a small, sympathetic frown as you watch Addison shuffle towards her office. She looked exhausted, you knew how taxing a long surgery could be but you know how crushing it was to spend hours in the OR only for it to end badly. Addison especially was one to feel the loss personally, she’d never show it to anyone.  

Addison always held herself to impossibly high standards, and when something went wrong, she shouldered the blame alone. She’d put on a brave face and comfort others while simultaneously desperately trying to hold herself together just long enough until she was finally alone. Then she’d let it all out - feeling guilty for what went wrong, running the situation again and again in her head in an attempt to see if she could’ve done something more.  

The rest of your shift seemed to drag, as if time itself was crawling forward with no regard for how desperately you wanted to get home. Final rounds felt like they took more time, the corridors seemed longer somehow and the hands of the clock refused to move. You knew it was all in your head but that didn’t make it any better.  

Eventually though, the seconds ticked by and it was finally time for you to leave.  No time was wasted as you gathered your stuff and headed out the doors. You’d decided it would be worth changing out of your scrubs before you left but you had forgotten to get your coat back off Addie and only had a thin jacket to keep your warm. It was still raining, a little heavier and you jogged beneath the dark clouds to your car. Luckily you didn’t get too wet, just enough to dampen your clothes and hair. 

Thankfully the drive home wasn’t too long. The rhythmic pattering on rain on the metal roof provided a nice background as you drove through the streets. There was a little traffic, nothing terrible and you were soon pulling into your driveway. 

As you parked up, the rain fell down in relentless sheets, you dreaded stepping out into it but the knowledge you’d be welcomed to the feeling of warmth and your wife was amazing. A sudden bright flash caught your attentive followed by a loud, angry clap of thunder, “Oh great.” You found yourself mumbling and made a mental note to bring the bins in. Last time there’d been a storm you had to go on a 15-minute search to try and find your wheelie bins which had been blown away. 

“No point delaying the inevitable.” You said to yourself, and swung the car door open. Instantly you were battered with rain and grimaced as you ran to grab the bins from the end of the drive and dragged them up to be sheltered beside your porch.  The relief that washed over you as you felt the pouring rain ease off as you stepped beneath the roof was amazing. You were definitely going to need a shower later but first... 

“Hey I’m home.” Your voice called out into the house as you stepped inside, you shook off the rain and left your wet shoes at the door. You shrugged out of your wet jacket, letting it hang on the hook near the door, and called out again, "Addie?" 

The house was still quiet, the subtle hum of the heating was the only thing keeping it from silence. You hummed softly to yourself as you headed further inside. You glanced up towards the living room and felt your shoulders relax as flickering lights reflecting from inside. The soft glow of an orange lamp made you feel a little better as you rounded the corner and looked around. You could recognise those red curls anywhere. Addison was currently curled up on the sofa and it wasn’t until you got closer that you realised, she still had your coat draped over her. Her hair was still damp but not as soaked as earlier and you could see that she was staring blankly at the television, though it didn’t seem like she was actually watching anything. 

“Hey, you,” You murmured softly as you knelt down to be at her level, running your hand gently through her hair. She was a little colder than you would’ve liked and now that you looked closely, her skin was still dappled with goosebumps. 

Addison blinked slowly as if emerging from a fog, her red-rimmed eyes finally meeting yours. Her lips curved into a small, weak smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. "You're home," she said, her voice hoarse, as though she’d been on the verge of tears or had already shed them when she thought no one would see. 

You smiled softly and came to sit beside her, warmth pooling in your stomach when she sat up and leant her body against you, the coat falling to the floor as she moved, “Yes, I’m home and you, my love, are freezing.” You mumbled as she involuntarily shivered, “What do you say to having a nice warm bath? I’ll run it all nice for you, I’ll even let you use my bubble bath.” 

She leaned into your further before taking a deep breath and exhaling with a small sigh, “A bath sounds nice.” She sniffled quietly after a moment, nodding as you helped her to sit up again. 

“Come on then darling.”  Your hand extended to take her own as you gently pulled her to her feet. She shuffled close beneath you as you nudged her in the direction of the bathroom, you heard her yawn widely and excused herself quietly as she followed you which made a small smile tug at the corners of your lips. She was always adorable when she was tired. 

Once inside the bathroom, you turned on the faucet, letting the water run until it was the perfect temperature. You added a generous amount of your favourite bubble bath (it smelled of strawberries) watching as the cloudy-like suds began to bubble up. Addison had been sitting in your bedroom as you got everything ready. As you put a fluffy, dark grey towel onto the heated rack, you heard the sound of small footsteps behind you. Looking in the mirror, you could see Addison hovering at the doorframe, a pair of your plaid pyjamas' in her hands.  

You chuckled quietly and turned around to meet her eyes, “You stealing from me now, is that what this is?” You smiled and expected her to give a small chuckle in return but what you didn’t expect was for her face to crumble up, her bottom lip quivering as tears began to spill from her eyes. Small tears turned to sobs within moments and your eyes were wide with guilt as she broke. 

“Baby- no- I'm so sorry-” Your apology began spilling from your lips as you rushed to comfort her, pulling her into a hug as she sobbed into your hold, “I didn’t mean to upset you love, I’m so sorry.” You rambled as you tried to console her, unsure if it was actually you that pushed her over the edge of the events from the day finally breaking her down. 

“I’m sorry,” Addison choked out between sobs, her fingers clutching your shirt as if you might disappear if she let go. “I didn’t mean to... I didn’t... I just—” 

“Shh, it’s okay, you don’t have to apologize.” You rocked her gently, holding her tighter. “You’ve been through a lot today. You don’t have to hold it together all the time, Addie.” 

She continued to cry, her breath coming in shallow gasps as she tried to get the words out. “I... I tried so hard... hours... we were so close... but—” She didn’t need to finish the sentence. You knew what she meant.  

The two of you held each other on the floor of your bathroom for almost half an hour, no words were spoken apart from the occasional shushing along with occasional hiccups and Addison tried to catch her breath. Once she’d seemed to be a little more stable you spoke up. 

“Addie, listen to me,” You spoke gently, pulling back just enough to tilt her chin up so she was looking at you. Her eyes were swollen, red from crying, and her bottom lip trembled. “You gave it everything. There’s nothing more you could’ve done. You’re human. Sometimes... sometimes we lose people, and it’s not fair, but that doesn’t mean it’s your fault.” 

She looked at you, her expression broken, and for a moment, you thought she might argue, but instead, she let out another shaky breath and buried her face in your chest again. You could feel her body gradually relaxing in your arms, the storm of emotions slowly subsiding, but the exhaustion was evident. She’d already been tired to begin with and this had taken away any reserves of energy she had. 

"Let’s get you in the bath, okay?" You suggested gently after a few minutes, rubbing her back as her sobs turned to quiet sniffles. 

She nodded, wiping her eyes as she cleared her throat, “You too?” Her voice was quiet but hopeful as she looked at you and then towards the water. It was clear what she wanted and you couldn’t hold back a small smile as you agreed. 

“Of course my love, let me just grab a towel.”  

When you returned, Addison let you get in first. The warm water felt amazing on every part of your body. You hadn’t really registered how tired you were yourself until then, too busy focusing on your wife and how she was. The bubbles made the room smell amazing and you breathed deeply as Addison slowly climbed in. Her body relaxed against yours, her head falling back to rest on your chest as your arms came to wrap around her. You couldn’t resist planting a small kiss to her red hair as she thanked you for getting everything ready for her. 

After washing her hair and body, the minutes flowed by, you felt her relaxing more and more. Her previously tense shoulders dropped as she allowed the water to surround her, the burdens of the day slowly melting away as she let her eyes occasionally flutter closed. It wasn’t until she closed them and didn’t open them for several minutes that you decided it would be probably best to get out. The water had started to cool anyway and was better to get out now rather than risk her becoming cold again. 

“You think its time to get out now, hm?” You nudged her gently to stir her awake from whatever day-dream she’d been in, “We’ll get you into those pj’s and I’ll make us some dinner, yeah?” 

“Dinner sounds good.” 

After helping Addison out of the bath, you wrapped her in the soft, fluffy towel, making sure to dry her off gently. Her skin was warm now, a marked improvement from earlier, though you could still see the weariness in her eyes. She took the pyjamas from earlier and held them out to you, offering them back. You took them from her hands and smiled at her, silently handing them back to her with a gentle nudge. She slipped them on and looked completely and utterly adorable. 

Once she was dressed, you handed her a brush, offering to untangle the wet knots in her hair. Addison nodded silently and turned, her back to you as she sat on the bed while you carefully worked through the red strands. The rhythmic strokes of the brush seemed to calm her. You took your time, letting her find peace in the simple, repetitive motion. 

“What are you in the mood to eat baby?” Setting the brush aside, you leaned down to kiss the top of her forehead. 

She hummed quietly, thinking for a moment, “Pasta?” The redhead asked hopefully after a moment, “The one you make with that really good sauce.” 

You knew exactly which she meant. “Pasta it is then. Are you going to just relax in here for a bit or come back and sit in the living room?” 

She sniffled, and cleared her throat as she followed you into the kitchen, instead of heading to the living room like you’d presumed she would, instead she followed you into the kitchen. She shuffled herself onto one of the small stools tucked into the island and watched you curiously as you began to take out ingredients for your pasta sauce. 

“Live cooking show?” You questioned with a smile, filling a pan of water and setting it to boil. You’d cooked the recipe hundreds of times. First you salted the pasta water and added a generous helping of fusilli. It was the best pasta for the recipe, not to mention your favourite. 

Addison continued to watch as you cooked, shuffling occasionally as she trying to get a better view of what you were doing. Addie wasn’t a bad cook herself, though she tended to lean more towards making sweet treats and cakes rather than hearty meals. Still, it was a passion you both shared and it wasn’t unusual to see the two of you cooking together. It was something which brought you closer and you cherished the time together. 

It was why you’d been able to slowly notice Addie becoming less and less engaged as time grew on. Her eyes were occasionally dropping closed and her posture seemed to slump. “Nearly done love.” You commented as she crossed her arms and fought back a shiver, “You getting cold again?” You sighed softly as you turned the simmering sauce down to a low heat. 

She shrugged, “A little.” 

You hummed and set the spoon you’d being using to periodically stir before you chuckled, "If I come back to my kitchen burning down, you’re taking the blame.” Before quickly heading to the bedroom, grabbing your fluffy blue robe which had been hanging on the door and jogged back to her. 

“Here, darling,” You smiled, handing it out to her which she gratefully pulled it around her shoulders, sinking into the warm fabric. It was a good robe, heavy and comforting and she continued to wear it as you finished plating up your pasta. 

It was delicious and hit the spot Addison twirled a forkful of fusilli, taking small bites in silence. She still looked worn, her eyes tired, but she stilled managed to eat the majority of it before she smiled gratefully and pushed her plate forward. 

“Thank you love.” She murmured as you took her plate and put it in the sink. Addison was a firm believer in “I cook, you clean” but you weren’t having any of it, insisting it was completely fine and you would take care of all the mess. You’d already done the majority of it, making an effort to clean up as you went along, all there was left was the dishes.  

There was no time wasted as you quickly cleaned up. Wiping down the surfaces and putting away the freshly washed dishes. Addison remained seated; her eyes heavy with exhaustion but following your every motion with a quiet appreciation. Every now and then, she sipped from her glass of water, her body curled up inside your fluffy robe. 

When you finally finished, you turned to her with a warm smile, walking over to press a soft kiss to her forehead. "All done, love. Now, I think it’s time we head to bed." 

She didn’t object and the pair of you headed back to the bedroom, crawling under the soft sheets and getting snuggled without each other's arms. Her body pressed against yours. It didn’t take long for her breathing to even out as she got comfortable within your hold, her red hair was still a little damp but you didn’t have the heart to wake her up just for the sake of drying it properly. 

Eventually you couldn’t avoid the pull of sleep for much longer, you let your mind wander off as you drifted into a soft, much welcomed sleep. 

*^*^* 

If only the two of you could’ve stayed asleep forever, curled up in a peaceful trance. Unfortunately your morning alarm had other ideas and blared off into the silent room, shaking the pair of you out of your slumber. 

You groaned quietly as you rolled over, whacking you hand at the loud, beeping phone on your nightstand in an attempt to quell its yelling. It didn’t work, instead you just ended up slapping your hand on the wooden table. You groaned again. Sitting up properly this time, you turned off the alarm and swung your legs over the side of the bed. 

Padding into the bathroom, you splashed some water on your face, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you thought back to the night before. Noticing the unusual silence from your wife, you leaned back to look into the room, shaking your head fondly when she saw she was still curled up beneath the sheets. Her red hair poking out from within. 

There was no harm in letting her sleep in a little longer. You always liked to set your alarms 15 minutes earlier than necessary to give yourself some extra leeway in the mornings. However, even after you’d brushed your teeth, tied back your hair and done some light makeup, there was still no sign of Addison getting herself up. 

You sighed softly and finished up in the bathroom before coming back and kneeling at the side of the bed. She had her head buried in a pillow. You smiled to yourself, enjoying the sight for a moment. With a gentle touch, you reached to stray red curls from her forehead before gently shaking her shoulder. "Addie, time to wake up," You murmured quietly as she stirred. 

She let out a quiet groan, burying her face deeper into the pillow. "Five more minutes..." she mumbled, you were expecting her usual slightly thicker morning voice, maybe even her grumpy voice. However instead what you heard was congested and thick. A sick Addie voice. 

"Addie," You repeated, your brows furrowing a little as you heard her voice, "Oh , you don’t sound great, baby. You okay?”  

She sniffled and nodded, “I’m fine.” 

“You dont sound-” 

“I said I’m fine Y/N.” 

Her stubbornness was nothing new, especially when it came to work. Addison had always been driven—almost to a fault. It was one of the things you loved about her, but right now, it was frustrating. She shifted under the covers, sitting up slowly, wincing as she did. You could see the exhaustion weighing on her, dark circles under her eyes. Honestly you shouldn’t had been so surprised she woke up like this. She’d been thoroughly soaked yesterday, completely sending her body temperature out of whack. She’d never reacted well to changes like that and her defences were down, of course she’d been an easy victim for the first bug to come her way. 

She was moving slower than usual, clearly feeling the effects of whatever was working its way through her body. You didn't even need to press a hand to her forehead to know she was running a slight fever; the pale tint to her cheeks, the slight sheen of sweat on her skin, and the way she kept sniffling were all clear signs. 

“Addie, love, you can just get back in bed sweetheart.” You murmured, following behind as she headed into the bathroom, “I’ll tell work that you’re out of commission for today. They’ll understand.” 

She gave you a pointed look and closed the bathroom door. Well. Clearly getting back into bed was out of the question. There wasn’t much you could do right now apart from getting yourself ready, you’d try again once she was finished in the bathroom. 

Getting dressed; you had been pulling on your shirt when you heard her sneeze three times in moderately quick succession. You couldn’t help but shake your head sympathetically. Usually, Addie would change into her scrubs at work like you did so you set out a relatively cosy outfit for her to wear, setting the folded clothes on the end of the bed. 

You were just gathering up your things when Addison emerged from the bathroom looking just as pale as before, with a slight flush to her cheeks that matched the pallor of her hair. She’d wrapped her hair into a messy bun, though some strands had already fallen loose, and her eyes were puffy from congestion. 

She eyed the clothes you’d set out for her, biting the bottom her lip before picking them up and beginning to change. Addison could feel your eyes watching her as she changed, not in the flirty way she’d prefer but in the worried, concerned way she’d rather ignore. 

The silent tension got the better of her however and the redhead shot you a look, part stubbornness, part exhaustion. “I’ll be fine, Y/N,” She mumbled through her hoarse voice. She sniffled damply, rubbing at her nose as she grabbed her work bag. “I can’t just stay home. I’ve got back-to-back surgeries and I’m meant to be on call tonight.” 

“Someone can always cover you.” You murmured in return but you knew it would hardly convince her. There was no point trying to change her mind, it would only end with her getting frustrated and that was the last thing you wanted.  

She’d turned away your offer of breakfast but you’d manage to talk her into at least taking a smoothie with her. By the time you’d poured it into her cup it was time to set off so pushing aside your reluctance, you offered to drive her there. The idea of letting a very likely feverish Addie behind the wheel of a 2-tonne vehicle wasn’t overly appealing. 

The storm hadn’t relented much overnight, the sky was dark and overcast, rain drizzling down as you drove to work. You occasionally stole quick glances at your wife in the passenger seat, she was slumped in her seat a little and staring out the window. You were 99% sure she was leaning her forehead against it. The sound of Addison shuffling in her seat caught your attention, your eyes cast over in time to watch as she rubbed at her nose, her expression shifting whatever itch she was trying to stave off failed and moments later she was stifling a sneeze against the back of her hand. 

“Bless you, Bless you,” You repeated when she repeated the action a few seconds later, only this time she didn’t stifle and let out a small satisfied sound afterwards, “There’s tissues in my bag if you need them.” 

But she simply shook her head and sniffled quietly before letting her head return to its prior position against the cool glass, “I’m fine, thank you.” 

You gave her a sideways glance, but didn't push the issue. When you finally pulled up to the hospital, Addison shifted, unbuckling her seatbelt slowly. You could see the way she winced as she moved, a grimace crossing her face as she grabbed her bag. You wanted to tell her one more time to reconsider—maybe just take the morning off, at least—but before you could speak, she leaned over and kissed your cheek, her lips warm against your skin. 

“I’ll see you later love,” She whispered, her voice already sounding strained, you couldn’t imagine what a day of talking would do to it. 

You nodded, biting back your protests. “Please take it easy, Addie. And if you need me, call, okay?” 

She shut the car door and headed inside – luckily she’d brought a coat this time. When the door closed, you took a moment to gather yourself and let out a deep sigh. Of course you loved Addison, she was just too stubborn for her own good sometimes. She knew it herself and while she made improvements from the past, it was still something she had to work on.  

Grabbing your bag, you headed inside, jogging beneath the room and relishing in the warmth of the hospital as you stepped through the entrance. Changing into your scrubs only took a few minutes and you were finally ready to start your day. It wasn’t exactly easy to focus on your work when you knew for a fact your wife was somewhere in that same hospital feeling miserable and ill but you had to push the thought to the back of your mind as you began doing rounds.  

Every so often you’d try and grab one of the interns she usually had following her round but they seemed to be avoiding you today, always running from one place to the next, looking more stressed out than usual.  

The day hadn’t been too eventful. Originally you weren’t meant to have surgery today but after someone came in with emergency appendicitis, you found yourself in the OR for a few hours - having to correct a clumsy interns mistake. By the time you’d finished, it was already past your shared lunch hour which meant you weren’t able to meet your wife as you usually did, an act (which even though you knew you shouldn’t) made you feel a little guilty. 

You’d had no word from the redhead since she started and it had worried you a little. The first place you checked was her office but you only saw her bag sitting on the desk with no sign she’d been here much today. There was no sign on her in the OR for the afternoon so when Karev had passed you in the corridor, you pulled him aside, “Have you seen Addison lately? I checked the board and she’s not in surgery.” 

He shifted a little uncomfortably and crossed his arms, causing you to change your stance and raise an eyebrow, “Alex, I already know she’s ill. I just want to check on her.” Your voice was soft, revealing a little vulnerability. Luckily this seemed to have worked as he sighed and pointed down the corridor. 

“Last time I saw she was coughing and spluttering over a water fountain.” He shook his head disapprovingly, “I’m presuming you couldn’t convince her to stay home?” 

You matched his gesture, “You know what she’s like.” He agreed and you thanked him for the information before heading in the general direction he pointed you in, of course she was not still by the fountain. You’d just been about to page her when your ears pricked up as you heard the sound of a rough muffled cough. Turning around you made a confused face as you saw there was no-one else in the corridor. Humming, you looked towards the linen closet a few feet away. 

Supposing there was nothing to lose, you walked over and pushed the door open, light flooding into the dark room. You didn’t see anything at first but squinting, you could make out the vague shape of someone of the back of the closet. Switching on the small light, your heart dropped to your knees as you saw those recognisable red curls. Addison was slumped on the floor, her fever-flushed face resting against the rack of sheets. 

“Oh sweetheart,” You murmured in the smallest voice as you closed the door, locking it before kneeling at her side. Raising a hand to her forehead, you brushed away damp strands of hair. Beads of sweat were lining her brow and you sighed as you recognised the undeniable heat of a high fever radiating from her skin. 

It was hard to believe she had been trying to power through her shift like this. Brushing her hair back again, you gently squeezed her shoulder. "Addie, hey sweetie," You murmured softly, trying not to startle her, “Wake up for me beautiful girl.” 

She stirred sluggishly, blinking up at you with glassy eyes. "Mhh?” She mumbled something you couldn’t quite work out and sniffled thickly, hardly having time to wake up before she ducked into her arm with a damp sneeze. It sounded harsh and obviously hurt from the way she winced afterwards. 

After murmuring a bless you and handing her a tissue from the packet you’d slipped into your pocket, you asked, “What are you doing napping in a linen closet baby?” You knew that she could have easily slipped into an on-call room and slept there so it wasn’t hard to work out that her linen-closet nap wasn’t intentional. 

Addison accepted the tissue and rubbed it beneath her red tinged nose, sniffling as she tried to sit up a little, her head still spinning as she blinked against the overhead light. “I just... got dizzy. I needed to sit down for a moment.” It was clear she was out of it, her answer sounding more like a question as she spoke and a few moments later, you were rubbing her back in worriedly as she racked forward with a horrible, harsh cough. 

“You sound terrible baby.” 

She shook her head weakly, clearly trying to muster some strength but failing miserably. "It’s not that bad. She tried to insist. her voice cracking before she broke into another round of painful-sounding coughs. You winced just hearing it. 

“That’s new,” You murmured, concern and worry seeping into your words, “How long have you been coughing like that sweetheart?”  

She seemed to think for a moment and sniffled thickly, coughing again before mumbling “Just a few hours.” Your wife cleared her throat with an agitated sound and let her head fall back against the rack making you bite your lip with worry. 

Without another word, you quickly stood up and grabbed the small digital thermometer from your coat pocket. It wasn’t something you normally carried, but with flu season hitting hard, it had become a necessity around the hospital. Kneeling back beside her, you pressed it against her temple. 

Addison closed her eyes, too exhausted to protest. After a few moments, the thermometer beeped, and your stomach dropped as you read the number. 

“Poor girl, you’re nowhere near well enough to be here. Come on, we’re going home.” Your tone held no room for arguments and well, Addie didn’t really have the energy to be stubborn anymore. She felt too terrible and all she really wanted to do now was to go home and crawl back into bed where she should’ve stayed to begin with. 

Finally, Addison nodded and you wrapped your arm around her waist as you helped her up off the floor. She stumbled and swayed a little so you kept your hold tight as you got her out of the closet, “You still dizzy?” She nodded and walked slowly, the both of you taking your time as you headed down the corridor. Stopping off at her office, you grabbed her bags and coat, wrapping it around her before quickly jogging to your office to grab your things. Changing could wait. All that was important now was getting her home 

You pulled out your phone and sent a quick text to the chief explaining the situation, knowing he’d be sympathic. You slipped your phone back into your pocket, your focus fully returning to Addison. Her breathing was shallow, and every step seemed like an effort, but she leaned into you, grateful for your support. Her body trembled slightly, whether from the fever or exhaustion, you couldn’t be sure. What mattered most now was getting her home, out of the fluorescent hospital lights and away from the sterile walls that she'd been pushing herself to work within for far too long. 

Before long, you were helping Addison back into your car, putting your bags on the backseat before closing the passenger seat down. She was coughing when you slipped into the passenger seat and you instantly reached across to rub her back. She cleared her throat and looked over at you. 

“Thanks for taking care of me.” Her voice sounded so hoarse but you knew exactly what she was saying regardless, “I know I should’ve come home sooner. I’m sorry.” 

You smiled, shushing her softly, “You don’t need to apologise, we’re going home now that’s all that matters. We’ll have you feeling better soon, okay?” 

“I love you.” 

“Love you too sweetheart.” 

As the pair of you drove home, you could see Addison begin to drop off as her head periodically bobbed forwards, her eyes beginning to close on their own accord. 

It wasn’t long before she had fully given into her exhaustion. You couldn’t help but feel relieved now that Addison was finally safely nestled in your passenger seat, her exhausted body leaning fully against the door as she slept against the window, her mouth open a little as small, stuffy snores rose from her. She’d definitely be out of work for the next few days, likely the week so you made a mental note to call at the pharmacy on your way home. It wouldn’t be long before you got her home, ready to tuck her up into bed and dote on her every need. 

Yes, you’d taken care of her last night and you were more than happy to do it all again. 

〖 Join My Taglist! 〗@scrambled-brain-eggs @observeowl @bloomingflowersthings @mapis-putellas @somber-sapphic @moonysreid @kathleenmikaelson @shamelessbearunknown @inluvwithfictionalwomen @kljhsong @santana1437 @lovelyy-moonlight @natashamaximoff69 @natashamyl0ve  @wandanats-goodgirl @nuianced-tck-enby @maomaoincomming @anne-lister @inluvwithfandom @godhatesgoodgirls (tagged everyone under "all" please let me know if you'd like removing <3)

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Ghosts

Written for @steddieangstyaugust, inspired by Dead Boy Detectives if you couldn't tell.

Steve should have seen it coming, really. Despite dating, driving the gang around, and being silly with Robin, he'd known for a long time he wouldn't live long enough to amount to anything. Everyone had plans, had a future. But Steve? He'd be lucky if he could give his imminent death a meaning.

Turns out, he couldn't. Or at least, not in the way he wanted.

It didn't matter if it was the guilt he'd been feeling ever since Eddie died and Max ended up brain dead, poor judgment, or simply wanting for the wait to already be over. Whatever the reason, he pulled "an Eddie" in August 1986. He didn't even ask, he just ran out as a distraction while the rest of his friends were trying to evacuate Max from the overran hospital. He got a few swings in, they got a few chomps. Then more than a few. In the end, he way lying on the ground, bleeding out, but his efforts didn't seem to matter. As soon as he took his last breath, the monsters just turned around and went back to Max's room. Steve didn't even have enough time to pray he'd bought them enough time.

"Oh shit. Stupid. So stupid."

Steve froze, or at least got startled. Which was something, you know, for a dead guy. If this was the voice of an angel welcoming him to the afterlife, it sure sounded like-

"Did I look this dumb when I died? I hope not. Why the fuck would you do that, Harrington, huh? Thought they no longer needed you? Can you imagine what it's going to do to Dustin when he finds out?"

Munson.

Steve opened his eyes and sat up. Nothing hurt. Weird.

What was even weirder? He came face to face with Edward Munson, recently deceased.

Eddie shrieked and fell back on his ass. He'd probably been crouching over Steve, but now he was splayed on the hospital floor, gaping at Steve as if he'd seen a-

Oh. Okay.

Steve turned around and grimaced. He was sitting in his own mangled corpse, which he wasn't too thrilled about. He sprung to his feet and, after giving his bloodied face one last look - they didn't get the hair, phew! - turned to Munson. "Fancy meeting you here. Are you, like, my afterlife welcoming comittee?"

Eddie made a vain effort to close his mouth. "Uh, no. Not really. I mean, there probably is someone coming to get you, but if you don't mind, I won't stick around for that. I don't think Death likes me very much, after I bolted on her."

Steve blinked in confusion. "Death…is a woman?"

"Oh yep. Very nice. Didn't even chase me when I freaked out and ran. Um. But you might want to wait for her. I will stick around for a bit longer." Even in death, Eddie hadn't changed. He pulled a strand of his hair in front of his face, and Steve wondered if he could chew on it, now that he was a ghost.

"But why? What is there to do?" Steve paused, thinking. "Wait. Is there something we can actually do? To help?"

That made Eddie laugh, although it was weak and incredulous. "Uh. Harrington. You've just died in like, a pretty painful and sadly heroic way, and your first thought is that you haven't done enough?"

"Doesn't feel like I have. Look," he said, offering Eddie a hand to pull him up, "if Death is coming, I'd rather not be here. Can we go and check on the others?" He wiggled his fingers at Eddie when he didn't respond.

The wiggle must have jolted Eddie's brain awake because he took Steve's hand. It was weird - he could feel the pressure where Eddie's hand met his, but there was no warmth, no texture. Possibly no pain, he thought. Useful.

"Right," Eddie cleared his throat. "Let's go. Just a bit of a warning - I think Will can see us. At least he looked very suspicious when I tried to sneak into your house when you all were staying there, and when I told him to just pretend he didn't notice anything, he nodded. So, uh. I guess he's special or something?"

They would learn quite a few things in their new existence. First of all, Will wasn't special. He just fit the criteria of "nearly died in the Upside Down or the newly merged realities", not just by being in danger, but being so close to death he almost didn't make it. Turns out, Hopper could see them too after his near death experience under the mall, and Hopper couldn't just be shushed.

Half-corporeal hugs were exchanged. Tears were shed, especially by Dustin and Robin. But they were all still together, for now. The danger was near and their grief had to wait.

By not quite so safe experimentation, Steve and Eddie found out that only two things could hurt them - other ghosts and iron. Luckily enough, none of the Upside Down creatures qualified as either. And so the party gained an invisible and indestructible vanguard - Eddie and Steve, both wielding their weapons of choice (Steve was overjoyed that he could just pick up his nail bat, and maybe that was a bit of a giveaway, seeing the bat floating towards the party with no body to hold it). They scouted ahead and reported back, either to Will and Hopper, or just by angrily scribbling in a notebook provided by Nancy. They couldn't sleep, so they would watch over the party in the night, allowing them the so much needed rest.

The months dragged on. Eleven kept her promise and saved Max, and when the pale redhead saw Eddie and Steve even with her damaged eyesight, no one was surprised. And as Upside Down crept further into their world, there were more injuries, more near death experiences, more tearful reunions. After being bitten by a demodog and almost bleeding out, Robin flung herself at Steve the second she could move and babbled about him being the absolute biggest idiot there ever was. He didn't dispute it, but hugged her tighter.

They were making progress. Still not enough to fix things, but they were getting there. And Steve's brain started another countdown to his and Eddie's potential second demise.

"Do you think we'll still be around, when the portal is closed?" he asked Eddie during one of their night vigils. "What if it's just the Upside Down that's keeping us here?"

Eddie, scribbling in a notebook, shrugged. "I don't know, and for the first time in my life - well, death - I don't have enough information to panic about that." He chewed on the pencil, meeting Steve's eyes with caution. "Might be nice though," he said slowly, "to stay. Do some more good, make sure everyone's safe. If you're in."

Steve laughed. "Wait. Are you, Eddie Munson, the mortal enemy of jocks, asking me to join you? Even when we're not neck deep in shit?"

"Mortal enemy…I mean, I lost the mortal part, and it felt so mundane to just keep the enemy. So yes, one position if Eddie Munson's afterlife has just opened up. Will Steven Harrington join me in it?"

Steve thought about it, and maybe he should have thought longer. Maybe he should have considered that eternity is a pretty long time, but his infrequent visits to the church taught him that heaven would mean being with his loved ones. He'd still be around if the party needed him. He'd see Robin off to college. And then, when everyone left…it would be just him and Eddie.

Him and Eddie. What a thought.

He winked at Eddie who, for a ghost, looked like he was sweating bullets. "Take me to the movies first, Munson, and I'm all yours." And then, even if he know neither of them would feel it, he covered Eddie's hand with his. He might have been imagining the gentle spark of warmth, but he decided it was real. He knew it was real.

Eddie smiled at him and interlaced his fingers with Steve's. "I can work with that, big boy."

And for the first time in so many years, the countdown in Steve's head stopped.

[only-lonely-star]

Your recent fic of the Soda mishap is my new fav fic of the outsiders! It was so funny with just the right amount of angst!

Could I request a fic with a sister reader who is the youngest curtis and develops separation anxiety with Soda after the two of them were in a little fender bender? Neither were hurt but it brought up memories of their parents dying and she can't shake off the thought that Soda not being in her eyesight means he's gone too? She refuses to sleep in her own room goes with him to work (it's summer holidays so school isn't a factor) and anytime he showers she stands outsode the bathroom door asking if he's okay periodically. Just a big emotional breakdown if she happens to get separated from him? I hope that makes sense!

Thanks you!

☁︎ The Accident ☁︎

~ Sodapop Curtis ~

Warnings - Minor car accident, mentions of death, separation anxiety

Summary - You couldn’t imagine losing Sodapop.

Author’s Note - THIS REQUEST WAS MWAH!! CHEF’S KISS! 😽 I’m very proud of this one. It took me longer to write since I got a bit carried away, so I apologize for the long wait. I couldn't bring myself to make the ending sad, so I hope you all like how I closed the story. Thank you so much for requesting, enjoy it my loves !!

Word Count - 3.3k.

»——•——« »——•——« »——•——« »——•——«

You kicked back, finally able to rest after a long morning spent dipping in the lake with your older brother, Sodapop. It was summer break, so what better way to spend the day than being under the sun - swimming and shoving him around in the cool, crisp water? Your oldest brother, Darrel, still had work, even over the summer. Your third oldest brother, Ponyboy, decided he'd rather spend some time with his friends. Being the empath he is, Sodapop decided to drive you down to the lake to ensure you didn't feel left out. He loved spending quality time with you either way - he quite enjoyed your company.

Feet on the dashboard, you turned up the radio and sang along. You could practically feel the funky music thumping in your chest. The bass could be heard a mile away, causing Sodapop to let out a chuckle. "Havin' fun?" he asked, his eyes drifting to see you smile bigger than he ever had since the accident.

You nodded vigorously, a few stray droplets of water that remained on the ends of your hair flying onto Sodapop, dampening his skin. "Of course!" you beamed, removing your feet off the dashboard as you leaned back into your seat.

He gave a head nod of accomplishment at that. Sodapop was glad to have taken you out for a fun time for once. He would have to return to the DX again tomorrow morning, the cycle repeating all over again. "Glad we went swimmin', we could go next weekend or something too y'know..." he suggested, a grin on his lips not faltering once as he offered another trip down to the lake.

You gasped, already looking forward to it. "Really? Like - you'll actually take me again?" you asked, needing the last bit of reassurance before you could truly accept the offer.

He nodded once more, stopping at a red light to gently swat your shoulder with his knuckles. "'Course I'll take you again."

He earned another grin from you at that, proud of himself once more. Sodapop's eyes darted for the rearview mirror, noticing a red Pontiac Firebird riding up on the back of their car. "Well damn, you gonna slow down?" he asked aloud, a slight bit of annoyance in his voice. The car must have been going at least fifteen miles per hour right at the red light. You hadn't paid much attention to it until you noticed Sodapop's eyes go wide. The 'deer in headlights' gaze is the only right way you could describe it. Sodapop cursed under his breath once more, holding his hand out to press against your chest. The sound of screeching breaks against the road scared the both of you as you jerked forward. Sodapop's arm prevented you from moving around that much, but there was still an impact. You slowly opened your eyes, recovering from a wince you hadn't even realized was in effect.

"The fuck - ?!" he hollered, rolling down the window before slamming his hand onto the horn and holding it there to express his anger. Road rage was one thing, but this was totally different. Sodapop rarely acted out on his anger, let alone follow through with it and stick his hand out of the window just to flip him off.

You sat there, breath hitched in your throat as you momentarily dissociated whilst staring at the dashboard.

This was all too familiar for you. ‘The Accident’ is what still haunts the four of you to this day. Having both of your parents wind up in an auto wreck sure wasn’t on your bucket list at all.

It was the sound of the car nearly crashing that frightened you. The fact you could have obtained the same fate as your parents was such a big fear you’d been attempting to hide since the accident. What you dreaded the most was losing your brothers. Put in a life or death situation - you’d hand over your life in an instant if it would ensure your siblings would be safe.

It wasn’t until you realized you and Sodapop were pulled over with that same Pontiac behind you. Slowly returning to reality, the bearded man with salt and pepper-colored hair had his arms resting on the now rolled-down window. “She alright?” he asked, his eyes fixated on you. Your dazed expression had been permanently marked onto your face.

Sodapop scanned your face for any other emotion, but couldn't seem to detect any. He quickly turned back to the man, brushing him off. “She’s a little spooked, she’ll be alright.”

He gave a slight shrug and waved the both of you off. Sodapop immediately placed a hand on your shoulder and shook your upper half. “Gave me some cash to fix the damage…it ain’t too bad, the back is a little dented and some paint got scratched off - but that’s about it,” he explained in an attempt to snap you back to reality.

Your eyes scanned the road, still busy with vehicles buzzing around everywhere you look. Listening was easy, but trying to comprehend his words while your mind raced with panic was a difficult task.

“You sure look out of it,” he commented, moving the gearshift to head home. There was an underlying tone of concern you could easily hear in his voice.

Squirming around in your seat, you found a better position where you could see the road ahead, clear as day. Feeling paranoid was an understatement. “No, no, I’m fine,” you assured him, all the confidence you could muster coming into play. You couldn’t stand the thought of worrying him even further with your newfound state of shock.

The car turned at an intersection, a red Corvette coming at you from the left side. It was as if your body just knew what to do - curling up into a ball as your eyes closed shut. The car isn’t going to hit you. This is how normal cars drive. You weren’t hurt. Stop.

“Why are you all jumpy with me? You ain’t in any danger,” Sodapop piped up, noticing your flinch at the sight of the Corvette. “Calm down a bit, will ya?” he teased light-heartedly, unaware of the true conflict inside your mind.

“Sorry…” you mumbled in response, pushing down any remaining feelings of apprehension. “That car, Soda -…” the crack in your voice said it all, “Just scared me a bit, I guess I just don't want you to… to end up like Mom and Dad.”

The car became eerily silent, the only noise being the zooming of cars outside. The accident was a touchy subject for both of you - Darrel and Ponyboy as well. Just talking about it always darkened the mood.

“No. You’re safe, I ain’t ever gonna let anything like that happen to you,” he assured you, his voice thick with tension. He seemed to grasp onto the wheel tighter as he pulled over just outside your home. “You hear me? It ain’t happening.”

For once, he was stern. Sodapop was never stern nor agitated with you, he was always bubbly and grinning. You knew the mention of your deceased mother and father had triggered it. The accident may have been months ago, but the damage was nowhere near repaired.

“I hear you,” you mumbled shamefully, opening the car door and shutting it behind you swiftly. You stood with your hand rubbing onto your arm. The body language represented was one of dread and concern, but somehow relief. Relief that Sodapop was still standing before you - even if he was completing a mundane task.

Sodapop shut the car door as he hauled the bag of wet bathing suits through the gate and towards the front door. You followed, not once letting him out of your sight. You watched as he set the bag near the bathroom door. “Darry and Pony ain’t home yet, better shower before they come back,” he suggested, offering you first dibs with the shower.

You shook your head and stood underneath his arm, seeking some bit of comfort. “No, uh - I’ll do it later,” the words nervously fell from your tongue.

Sodapop ruffled his fingers through your hair, grinning like always. At least something felt normal. “Alright then, shower after me.”

With that, Sodapop waltzed inside the tiled room, unraveling an off-white and awfully tattered towel. Tossing it on the counter, he placed his hand on the doorknob and pushed it closed. You respected the privacy of course, but the pang of paranoia kicked in once more.

“Soda…?” you called out, the sound only a hoarse whisper. No reply.

It was strangely quiet on the other end of the door. No water could be heard running, no background noise of shifting clothes around, nothing. Your hand balled into a fist, the sound of three knocks beckoning him. “Soda, you okay?”

“Yeah…?” Sodapop responded with a confused tone, leaving the boy in deep confusion. “Are you?” he stifled a laugh at the question. He’d been gone a mere few seconds!

“I’m fine,” your voice quivered, exhaling deeply as you slid down the wall. You rested your arms around your knees and sat on the brown wooden flooring. You could practically feel the sadness washing over you. The corners of your lips seemed to subtly droop, your expression now a worried frown. A warm tear escaped from your left eye, leaving you to wonder why you were crying in the first place.

That car could’ve killed you. It could’ve killed Sodapop too - oh god, anyone but him. You couldn’t lose him. First your parents and now your brother - ?”

Wiping the stray tear away, you stood back to your feet and leaned your ear against the door, trying to make out any heavy breathing. The panic set in once more when the running water was the only sound coming from the other end of the door. “Soda, are you alright?”

The knob had been twisted, causing less water to flow from the shower head. “I’m okay - now what in the hell is up with you?” Sodapop demanded as his words echoed through your mind.

Sodapop beginning to feel a bit pestered by you didn’t seem to be an issue, you were at least grateful to have a response. “Nothing…sorry,” you spoke up, giving it a rest for the time being.

The eerie silence only led to the intrusive thoughts of Sodapop no longer being alive. This was torture at its finest. The shower seemed to drag on longer than you would’ve liked.

—————————————————————————

As the day came to a quiet evening, Sodapop had already climbed into bed for the night. Darrel could be found in the kitchen with Ponyboy baking a chocolate cake for tomorrow’s usual breakfast. Clutching your pillow and stuffed bear you’d had since childhood by your side, you crept inside his darkened room. He was lying on his front side, face buried in his pillow. A smile adorned your face once you saw him sleeping peacefully underneath the warm bedding. You tip-toed for Ponyboy’s spot in bed and lifted the corner of the sheets to slide in underneath them. Sodapop stirred and scooted further back toward his side of the bed. His eyes could make out your figure, halfway crawled into bed. “What’re you doin’?”

You were quick to reply, fully laying on your back now that he was awake. “I just wanted to sleep in here tonight…” you shrugged, the stuffed teddy a source of comfort against your chest.

Normally Sodapop would’ve urged it's best for you to not upset Ponyboy by taking his spot in bed. He felt tremendously guilty for earlier’s mention of the accident, it only made him want to ease your concern for his wellbeing. Sodapop could sense the constant fear nagging at you that if he wasn’t with you, he was gone as well. He wasn’t stupid - he was well aware. “Scoot over so there’s room for three,” he sighed softly before pulling your arm closer.

You could feel his lips curled into a loving grin against your hair. It was getting late, so it was a given that Ponyboy would walk in any moment now and settle down for the night. Your back against Sodapop’s chest provided a warm feeling inside. His arm was almost trapping you beside him from how tightly the embrace was. Feeling his heartbeat thumping against your back eased any nervousness that still lingered in your mind.

Sure enough, the hallway lights could be heard flicking off with a quick hit to the switch. A faint ‘goodnight’ was barely audible through the closed wooden door. Ponyboy twisted the knob and saw an unfamiliar shadow beside Sodapop in bed. He groaned once the realization swept over his head that it was you. “Alright, outta my bed,” he commanded with a rather sassy eye roll.

The sheets were flung off of your body as Ponyboy expectantly waited for you to leave. Sodapop squeezed you tighter against himself. “Pony, let her stay.”

Ponyboy scoffed and furrowed his brows in frustration. “Stay - ?! This is our bed, she has her own!”

Sodapop stifled a groan of his own, his hand extending to toss the bedding back over your body. “You’ve got room, either sleep with us or take her bed. It’s just for tonight...”

Ponyboy took one last glance at the two of you before plopping himself down in a huff. “You don’t even need to be here, it ain’t your bed,” he grumbled as he fiddled with the blanket that had been kicked to his side.

You felt guilty enough as is, but now the guilt had grown stronger. You exhaled softly and let your eyes drift shut. “I’m sorry,” is all you could manage to say in response before it turned to a whole meltdown on why you needed to stay close to Sodapop.

Ponyboy’s anger subsided to a calm and aloof demeanor. He was most likely too tired to even argue it anymore.

“I just can’t go back to my room…not when Soda’s all the way in here,” you explained, your voice kept at a quiet whisper. No response from either of them. That sickening feeling of loss had begun to eat you alive yet again now that you lay awake, speaking to your unresponsive brothers.

———————————————————————————

Morning came once again, except this time you weren’t woken up to the bird’s singing outside, or one of your brothers pouncing over your resting body. It was as if your mind already knew that Sodapop had left. Ponyboy too, it was nearly ten o’clock in the morning when the lonely feeling sank back in. You sighed and propped yourself up onto the pillows, using your forearms for support.

A muffled sound escaped your lips, immediately calling for Sodapop. Obviously, he couldn’t hear you behind a closed door. You sprung out of bed, the stuffed bear falling to the floor along with you. With a swift twist of the doorknob, you sprinted down the hallway to catch sight of Ponyboy in the kitchen.

“Soda - Soda - where’s Soda?” you asked frantically, no sign of your two eldest brothers being around.

Ponyboy bit into a mouthful of chocolate cake, not caring to finish chewing before speaking, “Leavin’ for work, why?”

You shook your head without another word and scrambled for the front door, pajamas and all. You saw Sodapop buckling in beside Darrel as he slipped on a shirt. You sprinted towards the car, shouting and pleading for them to wait.

“Soda, Darry!” you called out, your hand smacking the side of the car to stop the vehicle. Darrel looked beyond frustrated to see you causing such a scene. Sodapop was filled with great concern, even as the adrenaline rushing throughout your body masked your fear. He gave a head tilt to signal Darrel to let him handle this.

“I’m here,” he replied in an assertive tone, his empathic eyes feeling every emotion you’ve felt since yesterday’s accident. He understood you better than anyone. Reaching a hand out to pull you closer, his gentle grasp latched onto your wrist. He leaned closer to you and spoke lowly, “You alright, kid? You’re scarin’ us, y’know.”

You nodded. In all honesty, you were okay now that you’d seen Sodapop. It felt like every second spent away from him was hell on earth. He could be hurt, laying out in the street somewhere - dead.

“I’m coming with you,” you insisted, tugging on the backseat door behind Sodapop. It didn’t open. Instead, Darrel’s husky voice backed you away from the handle.

“Coming with us -? No kids allowed, be realistic for once.” Darrel gave you a stern warning that if you didn’t head back indoors then you would never hear the end of it.

Sodapop exhaled sharply and glanced between you both, trying to handle the situation. He locked eyes on you, giving you the same empathic look as before. “Just…” he gave Darrel a wince before facing you again, “You got five minutes to get ready and then we're leaving.”

Your smile reappeared yet again, immediately racing back up the stairs leading to the front door. The sound of your brothers’ voices grew louder even as the distance between you and the car grew. A glimpse of the two arguing caused a bitter pang in your heart. Pushing the feeling away, you darted for the bathroom.

———————————————————————————

“She can stay with me. The DX ain’t in a bad area, she’ll be fine…” Sodapop spoke softly to Darrel, trying to reason as to why you should come along to work with them.

You settled yourself in the vehicle as it began to propel forward. The tension of the previous argument still lingered, but at least Darrel kept quiet as soon as you were in a close enough radius to hear the bickering. He wouldn’t be caught dead speaking of you like that while you were listening.

———————————————————————————

Taking Sodapop’s hand, he led you inside of the gas station in which he worked. You’d been here countless times before, bumming around with your brother’s friends as they smoked and attempted to sweet-talk any girl that passed. Sodapop and Steve never did, they would be fired after receiving complaints for doing such activities. Sodapop would always bend the rules, slipping a few snacks and whatnot into his pocket before leaving work. The DX brought back fond memories even as you stepped inside the front door, a small bell ringing overhead, indicating your entry.

“Now, I ain’t supposed to have company,” Sodapop spoke quietly, holding onto your shoulder and bending down a bit to be eye level with you, “But I couldn’t say no, I just couldn’t.”

Your eyes stung from the tears that dared to form during such a heartfelt moment. Sodapop was aware?

“Soda, I can’t lose you too,” your voice quivered as you quickly closed the distance between one another. Your arms wrapped around his neck, Sodapop immediately reciprocated the hug.

“I know, I know…” he replied as he softly stroked the back of your head, his fingers intertwining with your hair in a soothing motion. “You ain’t losin’ me anytime soon, I can promise you that.”

You willingly let the tears fall from your cheeks, landing on Sodapop’s shoulder which dampened the fabric quite a lot. He didn’t mind at all, in fact - he was glad you were no longer bottling yourself up. You squeezed him tighter, wishing the hug could ensure you’d never lose him. “I love you,” you spat out in a desperate cry.

Sodapop nodded along, the soothing motion of his hand still in effect. “I love you too y’know, a lot,” he said with a delicate tone, one he only used with you. You were his little sister and he would never let anything separate the two of you.

You just don’t stop living because you lose somebody.

It was as if the hug was the one thing you needed - the one thing that could ease your pain. Learning to cope with the death of your parents was by far the most difficult task you’d faced. Memories of the accident only strengthened your love for your brothers, clinging onto them as if you’d lose them next. Living in constant fear, dreading any separation was no healthy way to cope. The only way to cure the feeling of this overwhelming pain was to cherish your brothers like never before. And that’s exactly what you did.

[thedinanshiral]

Today is a fine day as any to rise the dead, but first we need to spell something out. We don't know enough about this intriguing necromancer from Nevarra so this one should be shorter.

So far we only have a couple of source materials, the story "Down among dead men" from Tevinter Nights, and the short story The Flame Eternal. And there's already some minor discrepancy between them. Emmrich's last name is Volkahrin in Tevinter Nights and Volkarin in The Flame Eternal. His short profile on the Dragon Age The Veilguard site only calls him by his first name, so until more information is revealed and the correct spelling of his name officially confirmed i'll use the original spelling, the first we got from Tevinter Nights.

Meet Emmrich Volkahrin, a Mortalitasi from Nevarra, member of the Mourn Watch, a seemingly delightful gentleman, described in his short profile as a well-meaning scholar.

Nevarra is a kingdom at the center of Thedas, south of Tevinter and north of the Waking Sea, famous mainly for two things: their unmatched tradition in dragon hunting and their reverence for the dead around which they've built much of their culture. While in most of the Andrastian lands the dead are cremated to avoid possession of the corpses by the spirits that may be drawn to cross the Veil by the array of emotions that usually follow death, Nevarrans do not; quite the contrary, they've built a Grand Necropolis across the ages where their dead are put to rest. Except not all the dead like to be put to rest so some may rise on occassion and wander about a bit. Most mages in Nevarra if not all are Mortalitasi, necromancers, and among them a special group called the Mourn Watch are in charge of taking care of the dead things that won't stay dead enough. They deal with possessions, early possessions, a number of oddities that arise in the deeper levels of the Necropolis, gathering information by making the dead speak again, and gods know what else. Their perception of the dead is different from anything we've seen in Thedas so far. It seems is common for them to even make use of those no longer living, and skeletal assistants or servants are a common sight near Mortalitasi mages.

So far we've learned of very few Nevarran Mortalitasi, and they all seem to be rather.. dry. Emmrich is the first one so far with a certain charm. He enjoys a nice cup of tea, has a skeleton assistant called Manfred, and he very naturally expresses a sincere excitement when knowledge is involved, be it when others express their curiosity or when there's a chance to learn something new. He's not just a necromancer on the clock, he's also a dedicated scholar. In The Flame Eternal he says to a fellow necromancer who's only interested in getting the job done quickly:

“What sort of passion drives one spirit above the rest? What tangle of thoughts and heart returned this soul?”.

He's not just doing a job, he's interested in understanding the motivations behind it, what drives the dead to act past their time. In Down among dead men his role is a small one, the story is actually about a guardsman name Audric Felhausen who after an attack by a possessed corpse during its funerary rites is sent to accompany a Watcher -Myrna, of the Mourn Watch- down into the Grand Necropolis to catch the running dead man, only to soon learn he's not quite alive himself anymore and the intrusive thoughts and memories of his love for books and architecture were indicative of his own new nature. Once the issue with the Pride-possessed deceassed noble is resolved they returned to Emmrich and decided Audric, who's still clinging to the world of the living for his love of books, takes a position at the Library.

In The Flame Eternal, we're introduced to a younger Emmrich Volkahrin, who alongside fellow necromancer Johanna Hezenkoss, was tasked to resolve the issue of a screaming skull. It turned out the wife of the decesased had recently passed and even in death the love endured and the skull simply wanted to rest by his beloved. When Johanna complains all the fuss the skull did was just for his dead wife, Emmrich responds “Oh, I don’t know (...) It would be rather fine to possess such an enduring affection."

In the few lines from him we've gotten so far i think he comes across as a kind and charming man, even if maybe a bit odd considering his line of work and how calm he seems about it. Seems he respects the dead too and doesn't just see them as mere tools.

Design wise, he's also very interesting. If he looks like Vincent Price, chances are it's intentional, but it hasn't been confirmed beyond casual mentions from one or two devs who've made that reference. We don't have a specific age for him but one can be estimated, as in the beginning of The Flame Eternal we're told those events occurred thirty years ago in 9:22 Dragon. Inquisition takes place in 9:42, Trespasser events happen in 9:44, and ten years after that we have The Veilguard, so curently they're in 9:54. Knowing this short story was published in 2021, it adds up that in Thedas it was 9:52, and if we presume Emmrich must have been at the very least 20 years old the youngest he could be is about 52. He could be even older, he certainly looks like he could be in his 60s already.

In his companion tarot card we see him in better detail. The skeleton up front may be Manfred, his assistant, and i find the little skeletons on the side the cutest things ever, like tiny puppets. I think that's the idea behind this card, actually, the necromancer rising the dead, his magic as the strings of the puppeteer that will decide how the puppet moves.

Many were suspicious of his right hand from the party's teased picture, because it looks off, red and just generally weird but as seen on his tarot card, that's actually a glove. That he wears rings over the glove must be a personal choice. And that's an interesting one if we look at his left hand and arm. More rings and bangles to last a lifetime. Is it just his style, or does all that jewelry serve a more specific purpose than adding to his looks? Maybe it's all enchanted, one certainly needs protection when dealing with the other side. Guess we'll know in the future.

We don't really know much else about him. Gameplay wise the reveal trailer gave us nothing, he's barely a little guy in the distance during the fight scene..

Yeah, that's Emmrich, chased down by the red lyrium darkswpan. No staff, no green necromancer sparks, no idea of what he might be like in combat yet.

In another piece of official art we see him alongside Manfred and i think Emmrich looks rather confident when facing the enemy here.

I suspect he's the confident and charming scholar type to whom said qualities occur so naturally he is not entirely aware of it or of the effect he has on those around him. Of course as a sholar and a necromancer he surely has a certain aura of that may be offputting to some as well. What little was hinted of him as a companion was in relation to his romance, a dev described it as "intimate and sensual".

Hopefully we'll get more details in the upcoming days. I'm curious to know more about all the new companions but him, specifically, i'm more curious about.

[thevalleyisjolly]

There’s a weird recurring take in D20 fan circles that Zac doesn’t play “complex” characters and that people are just waiting for the day when he “finally” plays an asshole, which kind of baffles me.  Quite apart from the idea that only morally grey characters are complex or compelling, are you sure we’re watching the same show?

In Fantasy High, we have Gorgug, an adopted biracial teenager whose journey includes realizing his self-worth, coming to terms with his rage (literally), seeking out and navigating new relationships with others (his birth parents, the Bad Kids, Zelda), and discovering what he’s capable of. 

From The Unsleeping City we have Ricky, a second-generation Japanese-American, who has a very personal struggle across two seasons between doing the dutiful/sacrificial thing for other people’s benefit and expressing his own needs, wants, thoughts, and feelings; it’s a very particular exploration of immigrant generations and the relationship between the sacrificial model of your ancestors and the culture you grew up surrounded by which emphasizes the self.

There’s A Crown of Candy and Lapin, whose snark and one-liners are honestly less interesting than the way he engaged with and sought to understand religion and faith; the different yet similar ways in which both the Sugar Plum Fairy and the Church exerted control over their followers, and the search for spiritual meaning beyond these figures/institutions.

Then there’s Cumulous, whose every character aspect navigates a space of tension - the ultimate war guy who made himself hardened (literally) and pragmatic to get the job done but who also remains soft and caring and empathetic at the same time; wielding the power of death without glorifying or giving into it; the cousin who both is a member of the family and yet who remains at somewhat of a distance from the centre; a literal warrior-philosopher who is single-minded in battle and quietly thoughtful about the mysteries of life and death outside of it.

As for actual assholes, we have Norman Takamori in A Starstruck Odyssey, a bitter man who is the living embodiment of both the Superior Orders excuse as well as scapegoating.  On a side note, the amount of absolute vitriol and double standards which people threw at Norman during ASO for being an unapologetic asshole -and he had less than two full episodes of screen time- kind of underscores the calls for Zac to play a “real” asshole.  Zac can and will play whatever type of character he wants, but is fandom really ready for him to play an asshole if that asshole doesn’t have a secret heart of gold?

From the same season, we have Valdrinor/Skip, who starts as the “prince running from his destiny” archetype with a dash of brain slug possession, has a humorous yet oddly profound exploration of what humanity is and what it means to be human, and springboards from there into “wait, who am I really and actually, why are we doing things (brain slug possession) this way when there are other ways to engage with the universe.” 

Most recently in Neverafter, we have Pib, who apart from the fascinating meta element of being a literal character archetype, constantly straddles the line between self-absorbed self-interest and putting himself on the line to help others; his repeated demonstration of both at various points throughout the season is a subtle yet intriguing manifestation of free will and choice-making in a story all about lacking free will and agency.

So, I mean, lack of complexity where?  Does a character need to be an asshole in order to be deep or compelling?  And because I’ve heard this specific rebuttal quite a few times now, does a character need to vocalize their innermost thoughts loudly and frequently in order to prove their complexity?  If a character is “less vocal” compared to other characters, does that mean they lack interiority? 

Also, other people have brought this up before, but I am once again asking that people remember the difference between fictional characters and real life people.  Zac playing one (1) himbo on the show does not make him a himbo in real life, nor does it make him incapable of creating or playing complex characters (especially as said himbo is himself an extremely complex character), nor does it make him a lesser player than other cast members.  You don’t have to find all or any of his characters interesting or complex, but can we stop conflating character with player?

[ohbo-ohno]

I love your work!! Congrats on 1k followers- your fics are amazing💙💙 May I request ‘country house’ and ‘something isn’t right about (setting). Something is off.’ ? Maybe with Price x reader please? (-:

1k game here - no more please!

i have an unreasonably difficult time thinking of a "something's off" for these prompts. but we write on nonetheless!

1.1k of price being your young daughter's "imaginary" friend. fair warning, this one doesn't have an actual price appearance, it's mostly just vibes. (cw for implied stalking/haunting, no smut!)

The big country house is your dream home.

It had come when you most needed it - your sister had finally gotten tired of letting you and your five year old couch surf and kicked you out with no warning, leaving you with only your car to live in and no prospects.

You'd been driving through a tiny town, only even heard about the house because of a kind waitress who took pity on you when you told her about your situation. She introduced you to her younger sister, a local realtor who'd recently marked down a nice family home to practically nothing because she couldn't get it to sell.

It had seemed too good to be true, honestly. The house is a grand thing - two stories, a wraparound porch, relatively new appliances. The price you paid - you negotiated down - was practically pennies.

But you don't have the privilege of questioning your blessings with a little one relying on you. So you tell yourself that this is just good karma, and you get yourself moved into the home as quickly as possible.

It's weeks later, from that same waitress, that you learn why the house was so cheap. Apparently a local man had been murdered there only a few months ago - a robbery gone wrong, if your source is to be believed, and an apparently very violent death for the poor man living there alone.

It certainly changes the way you feel in the house, knowing that something so horrible happened less than a year ago. The house still feels the same, but you look at it with the knowledge of who might've been there before.

You're... well, you're very lonely these days. You work long hours at home, holed up in your home office, responding to emails and sitting on calls all day. You only really leave to drop off your daughter and to pick her up, or if she wants to go somewhere in the city. If it were up to you, you'd never leave your new property.

And the house isn't small - you've never lived in a multiple story house, let alone one with no one else there. You can never fully shake the paranoia that someone else could be in the house with you, and you'd never know.

You remind yourself that you need to get a dog as soon as you can afford one, and try to wipe the nervousness from your mind.

When summer hits, you and your daughter spend most of your days at home. The house came with quite a bit of land, more than enough for a little five year old to amuse herself with on a nice summer day. You find that you enjoy sitting on the back porch with a cool drink and a book, keeping one eye on the story and another on your daughter while she plays with her dolls.

She doesn't have many friends. You'd worry, but she's always been a happy girl, and she doesn't seem to have any sort of social issues. You don't have the money to get her to a doctor, so you comfort yourself with the idea that she's just a shy child.

So you spend your summer, just the two of you. You spend an almost regrettable amount of time in your office with the door open so you can hear if something goes wrong, but you watch the small nest-egg grow in your bank account, and you tell yourself you'll make it up to your little girl by spoiling her later.

You only start to grow truly concerned about midway through the summer, when your daughter comes to you and tells you about an imaginary friend.

"John says we should play outside today," she says over breakfast one morning, casual as can be between mouthfuls of pancake.

"What's that, honey?" You ask, only half paying attention as you mix another batch.

"John wants to go outside. He's says it's a nice day. He doesn't like that you stay inside so much."

That makes you pause, turning to look over at your daughter. She's never known a John in her life. You have no idea where this is coming from.

"Who's John, sweetheart?"

"My friend," she replies, swinging her legs above the floor, happy as can be. "He was here first. We play together when you're workin'."

You blink at her a little dumbly. You know, logically, that John must be an imaginary friend - someone her little five year old mind has conjured in all her hours alone in the big house. But still, your simmering paranoia about there being someone else in the house spikes.

"Have I ever met John, honey?"

"Nuh-uh," she giggles a little, looking at you with an expression that says silly mommy. "John's not really there, mommy. That's why I gotta take everything outside."

You nod a little, your worry assuaged. It's just an imaginary friend - a perfectly normal kid thing.

"Well," you hum, turning to the skillet to start on your own pancakes. "I wouldn't mind working on the porch today, baby. You and John can play outside all you want."

It should be just that. It is just that.

Except... the idea of an imaginary friend eats at you.

As the pieces start connecting you tell yourself that you've spent too much time alone in this big old house. You tell yourself you need to get out, to find communities for both you and your baby to get involved with.

But the dots still connect.

You think of all the times you've heard your daughter start crying in the middle of the night, only for her to be giggling by the time you get to her room. You think of the night you were sure you left the stove on (you'd planned to make brownies, but gotten distracted while the oven preheated) only to find it completely turned off when you rushed downstars.

You think of the full conversations your sweet baby girl tells about John. She tells you he's tall, with a big beard, and a funny hat. She says he's got a nice voice and soft hands. She says he tells her bedtime stories, and that he has a funny accent.

You sit on the porch one night, and the back door opens behind you. Instead of the sound of small feet pattering towards you, there's silence. The door closes another moment later.

Your daughter tells you that John thinks you should spend more time with them - not her, with them.

The bed is made one day when you're sure you hadn't bothered in the morning. You'd been overwhelmed with work, had been too stressed to bother tucking in your comforter. When you go to bed that night, it's perfectly made with almost military precision.

You watch from the porch as your daughter giggles with her doll, dancing the little toy through the air and talking to nothing. You blow a cool breath over your mug, and tell yourself there's nothing there.

That night, there's a spot of warmth in your bed when you lay down to sleep.

[krowlovesinazuma]

I posted this by accident... ;-;

Check out this prologue and this post for context!

Scenario: Talking to them about modern wars

Characters: Kujou Sara, Sangonomiya Kokomi

With your appearance and needing to protect you, combined with all the things she already has to do as part of the Tenryou Commission, you shouldn't expect her to start this conversation. She can't help but be curious sometimes, but she won't tell.

The conversation would probably start with you making an off hand comment about wars in your world, which would lead her to ask, just for the sake of it. After all, information was never bad to have as a militarist... At least, that's what she thought.

She couldn't help but wish that it was a bad joke at first, but she listened intently, and asked many questions. Some were for precautions in her line of work, others were slightly more for curiosity's sake. It's easy to tell which is which from the tone of her voice, much to her dismay.

She wanted to hear you talk about battle strategies, but sadly, the battles themselves were never the focus of general history much, to her dismay. You were able to tell her about larger strategies, however, which she did wish to hear more about.

What scared her the most were the motivations. She understood that wars were not a fight of good against evil, but even she was appalled when she heard the political issues that led to these conflicts.

Well, either that, or the sheer mass of numbers related to everything. Millions of deaths across the world, all just listed as data and passed off as history... It was terrifying for her to think about such large numbers.

And then the weaponry... She was actually interested in hearing about this quite decently, but after hearing the first few details, mainly gigantic bombs or mechanized guns, she was done.

As soon as she's done with this break of hers she's going to thoroughly rethink aggressive politics and the dangers of large-scale conflicts. Partly for her country, but she couldn't shake this fear for her men, herself, or even for you...

"Please excuse me for having interrupted you, but I do not wish to know more. It's... Unsettling to think about, especially how you just mention it so casually. I know we may have a dark past as Inazuma as well, but I assure you, we'll maintain this peace, for all our sake."

Kokomi loves reading about old warfare and similar tales in her downtime, so it was a simple matter of time before she asked about it when the two of you were just relaxing in down time.

She couldn't lie, she was half expecting you to not know, as many in Inazuma didn't know many specifics about old wars, especially since they were so many centuries ago. When you told her that the ones you spoke about were only about a century old though, she was curious.

The large scale of everything did take her off guard however. While she read of warfares, none she knew involved such large countries, especially not any that were that recent. She realized how serious of a subject this was, and yet you were so casual about it...

She asked why you treated it as common knowledge, and to her surprise, it was apparently supposed to be? It saddened her to hear that it was all just data for most people, but the thought of hearing more details kept her hooked.

The first thing that truly unsettled her were the origins of the war. She understood that it was the reason why it was spread as common knowledge, but the fact that it happened either way was more than troubling, especially as a leader herself.

She couldn't even imagine the aftermath that you described. She had gotten used to taking losses and learning to overcome them in her time as a leader, but never had she faced something so devastating as the things you describe.

And then of course, the weaponry. While she was mostly intrigued by the use of firearms and how advanced they were from swords and shields, but when the theme switched to nukes and bombardments, she was very much intimidated.

She tried to act the same after that talk, but she couldn't help but feel worried for both you and her island if tension ever came to rise. Sadly for you, that means more effort into her work for her.

"Huh? Of course I'm fine, you don't need to worry about me so much. In fact, I'm thankful for you telling me all of this. I know that we don't have numbers as large in our humble island, but it's better to be safe than sorry... What do I mean? Well, treating my leadership with more care, for starters."

[morbethgames]

Halloween Special, Current Projects, New Patreon Content

I am so sorry about the radio silence as of late. Between the stuff earlier this week (yes, that stuff), dealing with deaths of people, and university; I've been very busy and mentally drained. However, the good news is, you can play the mini game of The Bureau, "Witchy Woman" right now! The link is at the bottom of this post! Eventually I'll integrate it into the main game, or put it out as potential free DLC or something, but for now there are no stats and it's not tied to choices from the base game.

Tonight is a special case. The MCT has been called in as a favor after finishing up our most recent case. A friend of Kris's reached out, and the local P.D. has let the MCT take the lead on this one. A house party in the beginning of October up in Maine has turned sour. A party-goer has been reported deceased.

We just finished a job, but in this line of work, there's always another case to solve. So here I am, approaching the residence with my team, about to find out exactly what happened on this cold, damp night.

Because it's not part of a bigger game or story, and the only pacing I had to worry about was that of the investigation, this is much more freeflow than other investigations in the main story. Go back and forth between the crime scene, the perimeter of the house, interrogations, and more! The more you discover evidence, the more new options will unlock in conversations, and you have an evidence log in the stats section that updates every time you find out something relevant to the case.

I'm only promoting this now, even though it's been done for a couple of weeks, because it was part of a Jam and I didn't think it would be fair if I got votes from a community built over a few years when others in the Jam would not have had that same benefit. I wanted it to be an even playing field, even if it meant holding out for a bit. So, I apologize for making you all wait.

There are still things I'd like to do for this game, things I'll end up adding, but it is at the very least ready to play. It's 40k words, so have at it!

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

Right, next up, something I'd like to announce. I'm working on a serialized fiction that I'm (hopefully) planning to turn into a book. The first 3 chapters are going to be posted for free, both here on my blog and on my Patreon, though not quite yet. Chapters after that will be released on Patreon for the people who pay the $5 tier.

I'll be honest, it has been extremely cathartic to go from writing an IF where the chapters are all pretty much the length of a book themselves, to writing an actual book where a chapter is about 4k words. It's a very nice breath of fresh air, and it by no means, entails that I will stop working on Bureau. In fact, it may even help speed up rate of production, funnily enough. Having something to keep my mind turning while having writer's block about a scene in the IF will help me constantly generate ideas, and that's really nice to think about.

A small college town is rocked by a horrific murder. In wake of the events, a couple of friends begin investigating this personal tragedy, determined to get to the bottom of what happened at the Scribe City college. The lesson is quickly thrust upon them that loss leads to pain, but pain is temporary, and loss can be forever. So what comes after the pain? They need to explore that journey together, and in the process, navigate the complicated things feelings that have started to bloom.

The book (serialized fiction for now) , called Love In Stasis, is going to be a 'WLW romance small town college murder mystery'. You will explore the relationships that these characters have and continue to form, and just how messy things get when tragedy sparks love. I have almost 25k words done for it, about six and a half chapters, and I'm going to try to get 50k words done with it by the end of the month. A writing challenge that's totally not tied to the name of any organizations.

If this works out, I could reward patrons with static fiction while not having to worry about providing everyone with constant things tied to the IF itself, and I could work on The Bureau at a pace I'm very comfortable with.

I'm still learning as a writer. I'm still learning new things I like, and how I like to produce content. All I know is that I like producing art in the form of writing, and I most certainly will not stop doing that anytime soon, and now that the Halloween Special is done, I will be getting back to the base game.

Which will start with a complete recoding of the gender variables. I've already started on that process, so no more multiple versions of each chapter. One version. One set of gender variables. Much more condensed coding and script. So, people out there who said that wasn't going to change, I just have to say what I'd said all along. My coding was indeed bad. However I will also say something else I've said all along. I do take criticism.

That being said I'm never using multi-replace and you can't make me. I like being able to read what I'm writing.

More to come in the near future.

Stay Brilliant,

-Vi

https://cogdemos.ink/play/viisbae/the-bureau-halloween-special-witchy-woman

Patreon Link

[silence-burns]

The Death of Me //part 2

Fandom: Aquaman

Summary: (very small spoilers for the movie) Finding Orm on your doorstep was not something you expected. Having him move in was even worse. But the effect he still had on every part of your life would be the death of you.

Even though you learned early on the world was an unjust and cruel place, it still managed to surprise you occasionally. The last bits of hope clung to your cloudy mind, snatched away from you once you pried your eyes open to see your nightmare incarnate sitting by the kitchen table.

The fever knocked you out for a few blissful hours; earlier events fading into a half-remembered dream. But there was no denying the truth once you noticed the suspiciously clean counters and sudden lack of accumulated trash laying around. And, worst of all, your new roommate.

Or caregiver. Or pain in the ass. Or man that made your heart twitch in a way signaling either a crush or a heart attack. Who cared about semantics?

Orm Marius, former Ocean Master and currently just some guy, sat in the middle of the kitchen, making his way through a book. The seaside house was home to many books, although you doubted the original owner ever had the time to browse through them.

A small mercy had been granted to you and Orm didn't notice you had woken up. You couldn't help but observe him. Even though he was no stranger to you, and quite recently you'd helped break him out of prison and even somehow saved the world together, you still felt mesmerized by the way he moved and looked.

Even now, the dying evening light entering through the window painted the room in deep shadows, and softened the planes of Orm's face. He had positioned himself close to the window to read in the dimming light. It allowed you to see the softened curve of his shoulders and the way he tilted his head, studying the book just as carefully as you studied him.

“Glad to see you're doing better,” Orm said, without moving.

You jumped a little, making your injuries flare up in a wave of pain. A startled whine escaped your lips when your body reminded you how sore it actually was.

Orm put the book down and stepped over to the couch. Before you managed to say anything, he pressed his hand to your forehead. Whatever words rose in your throat, scattered.

“You're still burning,” Orm muttered with concern and furrowed brows. “Are you sure your medicine is working?”

“...it just needs some time.”

Your voice came out weaker than you expected. You felt fuzzy, and the room around you was definitely moving a little.

Orm was not convinced, and disappeared from your line of sight for a while.

Your fever was probably on the rise again, which was to be expected. For the past few days you'd been in and out of it, drowning in sweat and fighting off the urge to scratch underneath your bandages.

You kicked off the thin blanket, hoping Orm wouldn't touch you again. You were dreadfully aware of how wet Orm's hand must've come off and of the old sweat stench surrounding you. In your defense, you didn't expect any visitors, so for the past few days you focused on passively surviving rather than dragging your corpse to the shower once a day.

You heard Orm's steps before he entered your vision. “Man, just leave me alone. I'm seriously fine on my own—”

A wet towel slapped onto your face, splashing cold water around. What a simple, yet effective way of both shutting you up and providing relief. You'd be impressed if it didn't piss you off so much.

You dragged it off your eyes and came face to face with Orm, suddenly crouching way too close to your liking. He looked at you intensely and then raised an eyebrow.

“If you want me gone, then you should be perfectly capable of throwing me out. You didn't have any trouble last time we sparred.”

“That would be so rude of me. It would crush your ego.”

“As if you ever bothered being polite.”

“I am the nicest person that has ever graced this Earth.”

“You look like a corpse on its way to the afterlife. Unless your state improves, I'm not leaving. The only choice you have is finally dying or getting better and kicking me out. And since I'd rather see the outcome of option number two, I think we have to start with these bandages.”

“They’re in place.”

“The wounds need to be cleaned and dressed again. I can smell that from back here.”

With a hiss through clenched teeth, you dragged yourself into a sitting position, as far away from Orm as was possible on the couch.

“...look who's impolite now.”

Orm moved closer to you with a darkened expression. It made you shiver and put one bare foot on his chest in the only defense you could muster. He wrapped his fingers around your ankle, but didn't move any closer.

“It's not about politeness or pride,” he explained slowly, not taking his eyes off you. “I want you to feel better, regardless of what it takes.”

The way your cheeks heated had very little to do with the fever. In a kinder world, Orm wouldn't have noticed it.

But in this one, he was too observant to miss something like that. His lips curled in the faintest of smiles just as his hand moved further up your leg, slowly dragging his fingers over your scorching skin. Your heart was in your throat and wanted out.

You slapped the wet towel onto his arm and freed your leg.

“Such profound words for someone so annoying.”

“Whatever gets you moving. These wounds really do need cleaning, and I will not back down from that one.”

“I can do it myself.”

“If you could, you would've done it days ago—when it was actually due. That's enough waiting, take them off.”

You thought back to how far your injuries went under your shirt. It provided you with a surprisingly effective burst of motivation to heave yourself off the couch and onto semi-steady legs.

You wobbled off in the general direction of the bathroom, wishing for your torment to finally end.

“Please do avoid any further injuries,” Orm called after you, watching your unsteady search for clean clothes and a towel. There was painful stiffness to your joints, but you were extremely motivated to overcome it.

“I promise to graciously call for your aid right before I break my neck on these marvelous tiles.”

There was not much dignity left in you, but you did your best to protect it by switching the bathroom lock rather than slamming the door.

You could've sworn you heard Orm chuckle.

[kimberleyjean]

The Price of a Life: Death and Dying in Good Omens

In this meta I want to take a closer look at one of the prominent themes I’ve spotted running through Season 2 of Good Omens. While S2 has been billed as the gentle and romantic bridge towards S3, in a few ways it actually had darker tones than S1. If that’s your cup of tea - read on!

What is the value of a human life? 

This is a question which has been pondered by philosophers far back into the reaches of history. More recently, economists have attempted to put a price on human life, which is then used when justifying the various societal costs associated with governing a population (i.e. healthcare, education). These two different schools of thought are sometimes at odds. Immanuel Kant proposed that humans have invaluable dignity, but not a price - being “not merely something to be used for the ends of others, or traded on the market”[1]. In opposition, value of life calculations, by definition, put a price on the value of an individual.

What side does Good Omens S1 take?

In Good Omens Season 1, one of the significant moral dilemmas, at least for Aziraphale and Crowley, was about whether or not to kill the antichrist.

I've never actually... killed anything. I don't think I could. Not even to save everything? One life... against the universe.

Following their failed attempts to influence Adam’s childhood development, once at the airfield, Aziraphale believes it to be a foregone conclusion that Adam should be killed - eliminate one to save the many. Of course, their attempts fail and Adam faces off against Death, the Four Horsepersons and Satan himself, eventually getting his own way. However, the moral question posed about killing Adam never reaches a definite conclusion.

With the flashback scenes that S1 added to the book, we are shown this same theme when Aziraphale and Crowley attend the crucifixion. The crucifixion is shown in agonising detail here, and gives us an empathetic look at the sacrifice of one life for, presumably, the overall good of humanity. (Although, what metaphysical impact Jesus’ death had in the Good Omens universe isn’t exactly clear). We see Aziraphale and Crowley stand idly by while the Great Plan is enacted.

Does S2 do things differently?

While Good Omens S1 dabbles lightly in the philosophical question about the value of life, Season 2 picks up this thread time and time again - sometimes attaching some numbers!

One of the key mysteries of present-day S2 is the mammoth miracle performed by Aziraphale and Crowley. Registering on the scales at 25 Lazari, this is 25 times the cost of human life in Heaven's accounting system. Presumably, one Lazari is the amount used when Jesus resurrected Lazarus of Bethany four days after his death. As we'll see, this attaching of numbers to human lives is then repeated throughout each of the minisodes.

Firstly we have the flashback sequence with Job and his children. Aziraphale makes the argument that just doubling the number of new children wouldn’t adequately compensate Job and Sitis for the loss of their existing children - since they “quite like the old ones”. The value of human life is not a simple accounting exercise and one life cannot be substituted for another, in the case of the people you love - they’re priceless.

We see this same idea demonstrated again throughout the Resurrectionist minisode. We first meet Elspeth MacKinnon when she is exhuming a body to sell, in order to buy her and her partner a slightly better life worth living. However, the surgeon Dalrymple is not above haggling over human remains. To him this is a business transaction, in which dead bodies are worth no more than five pounds a pop. To Dalrymple, the cost of saving future lives is that others should risk the grave gun gathering bodies which he may then dissect.

Aziraphale is first opposed to anyone being dug up, but then is won over by Dalrymple’s argument, at least until Wee Morag is killed and suddenly for sale. As Crowley says, echoing the Job minisode, “it’s a bit different when it’s someone you know”. In opposition to Dalrymple’s accounting exercises, and, indeed, the 90 guineas with which Aziraphale buys Elspeth's life, Crowley is offering an alternative view. A life is of higher value when it is someone we, personally, know and care for.

We also witness this theme during the 1941 flashback / Nazi-zombie minisode. The magic shop owner warns Aziraphale that he is about to take on a death-defying trick - one which people have died trying, no less! “Your life is worth a lot more than seven pounds five shillings,” argues the shopkeeper. Instead, it turns out that a customer’s life is worth about 27 pounds and five shillings, since he more than willingly accepts that offer - “on your head be it!”.

As human beings, the price we are willing to place on an individual life, how much we are willing to sacrifice for that person, is all dependent on how well we know them.

“He’s just an angel I know”

But it’s the knowing that makes all the difference.

“It’s a bit different when it’s someone you know”

So, for his life, what price are you willing to pay?

What if it was “one life... against the universe”?

Lastly, death is the price that all humans must pay, no matter what. As the Metatron asks at the end of S2 - “Does anyone ever ask for Death?”. But those are thoughts worthy of a future post.

Thank you to everyone at the @ineffable-detective-agency as always, but especially @lookingatacupoftea and @embracing-the-ineffable for their feedback on this post.

[1] Nussbaum, M., & Pellegrino, E. D. (2008). Human dignity and bioethics: essays commissioned by the President's Council on Bioethics. JAMA, 300, 2922.

[thebaldursmouthgazette]

We know Flemeth is Mythal, or rather contains a part of Mythal. And we know Mythal came to her after she was betrayed. But Flemeth was born in the towers age, only 600 or so years before the events of origins. Mythal was murdered thousands of years before that. Where was she all that time?

I think I know

Andraste was another woman who was betrayed, and who had an entity come to her in that moment. Who had daughters who had only daughters who had only daughters. Sound like anyone we know?

But wait, there’s more

In another post I discussed the circumstances of Andrastes birth. The gist is, her mother was part of a tribe who helped the grey wardens fight and defeat Dumat during the first blight. The warden who killed Dumat and absorbed his soul was never identified, and later that year andraste was born. Andraste was a strange child, who behaved in a way that seems quite similar to the way old god Kieran behaves in dai.

I think it’s quite likely that andraste was present as a fetus at the battle against Dumat, and upon dumats death the soul went to her instead of a grey warden (not that I think being absorbed by a warden actually defeats them. I think that’s gonna be a fun little surprise for later).

Which would make Dumat Mythal. Dumats constellation Silentir is also associated with Mythal, so that doesn’t come from nowhere. Also, solas makes a comment at the temple of Mythal about how silence reigns here, and Dumat is the god of silence. Yes he could be saying silence as in emptiness, but the temple wasn’t empty and we know that the writers love a good proper noun/common noun misdirect (what Pride had wrought indeed).

This would explain her absence for so long. She wasn’t killed and then waited for a few thousand years doing nothing before finding Flemeth. She was also trapped in the black city with the other evanuris, infected by the blight. Perhaps the murder solas refers to was simply the other evanuris infecting her with the taint. Perhaps he thought she was fully dead and was mistaken.

When Dumat was defeated Mythals soul ended up in Andraste, cured of the taint. The process was likely less refined than the ritual eventually given to us by Flemeth, so she was not able to properly manifest. Until years later Andraste was betrayed, as she had also been betrayed, and she decided to help her. Notable parts of Andrastianism and the chant of light include the focus on women, and the maker having said his children caused the blight. Everyone assumed this was children in the sense of a creator god referring to his creations, but Mythal was the mother of the evanuris. She was referring to her actual children (or people she saw as her children anyway).

I think she followed Andrastes line down for a few hundred years until it ended in some way (with at some point Andrastes soul possibly being put in a dragon body), and then she moved to Flemeth and followed that line of daughters down. This is what Flemeth means when she says she has crawled and clawed her way through the ages. I think it’s interesting that she feels she has been denied justice when Solas imprisoned the evanuris for killing her. And I think it’s interesting her plan for achieving that justice involves curing the other evanuris of the blight. I don’t think Solas understands the situation as much as he thinks.

But OP, I hear you say, there are 7 old gods and the numbers only add up if you take Mythal and solas away from the 9 evanuris! Except, there aren’t 7 old gods. There’s a theory among scholars in thedas that there was an 8th old god, struck from the record. This old god would have had imagery associated with sea monsters, something ghilan’nain is associated with. She was the youngest of the evanuris, so it would make sense if she was later not considered really a god.

All that doesn’t add up is there are only 2 evanuris left to be freed when solas’ ritual goes wrong, and I feel like people have been meddling with the fade enough recently for one of them to slip through the cracks.

[kingkat12]

quelle jolie chose (marquis de gramont x reader)

WARNINGS: mentions of bodily harm, violence, intimidation, humiliation

summary: as the new owner of The Continental in Moscow, you should've known better before helping John Wick escape Russia-- what will the Marquis do when he finds out you've been in contact with the excommunicado he's been after all along?

word count: 1,714

a/n: this is chapter one of a quite long Marquis fic i'm writing, so don't you worry... there's much more to come!!! and there are some french words here and there, i am NOT french lol so do correct me if i'm wrong, and there is a vocab at the end!! enjoy<33333

I hadn't planned on facilitating John Wick's escape from The Moscow Continental-- nothing was going as planned, these days. That was truly dawning on me as the Marquis' guards gripped me harder, forcing me down on my knees in front of him as I glared up at the statuesque man before me. 

I was well-versed in the rules of the High Table, having grown up in the order. It was only recently that I had taken over the hotel, almost immediately after my father's untimely death. I had suddenly found myself at the center of the operation I had watched from afar my whole life, and had the truth about my father's work unveiled to me during a time when I should've been mourning him. It had been terribly hard, but I had gotten myself together for the sake of the hotel. For the sake of my life, my family, and our legacy.

However, nothing had been more important than the debt I owed John Wick. Funnily enough, that was exactly what had gotten me into this situation.

"You should've known better than to succumb to such foolishness," The Marquis took another step towards me, his eerily green eyes drilling into me with intimidation unlike anything I had ever seen before. "We know your father was weak when it came to Mr. Wick, but you? That you would be helping an excommunicado evade us? That was certainly unexpected from the newly instated owner of The Moscow Continental."

I hated that this was happening in my penthouse. Had I stayed at the hotel tonight to tend to business, I would've at least been sure he wouldn't kill me. The grip the guards had on me, the force in which my knees were being pressed against my newly polished wooden floors, nearly had me wincing-- but there was no way in hell I'd show him how scared I was. My gaze only hardened, trying to wry myself out of the strong hands holding me down; "I don't know what the fuck you're talking about!"

Letting out an exasperated sigh, the Marquis rolled his eyes. It was almost as though he was bored with me. "We have it all on video," he grumbled, unimpressed with my attempts of denial. "Him at the hotel, him in one of your cars, and videos from the shootout at Sheremetyevo airport. It seems you're good with a gun, miss... Actually, it's probably good to find out whether you have one on you right now." With a wave of his hand, the guard next to him stepped toward me, and it didn't take long before I was pressed face-down to the floor as I yelled out in protest.

With tears pressing upon my eyes, I could only curse as they managed to find the knife in my boot and continued to search me-- my eyes widened when they moved up my thighs, finding the gun I had stuffed down the side of my hip before having gotten dragged into this room, ambushed in my own home. I let out another yell, kicking with the best of my abilities, as my pants were dragged down my thighs and my hands were held tightly at my back.

I heard a hum coming from the Marquis, who had stepped away to make himself a cup of tea by the table I had set up a few weeks ago. Everything about his nonchalance angered me further-- I couldn't believe this was happening to me in the room I had set up to focus on the one thing that gave me a sense of purpose and peace; my paintings. They were hung up on the tall walls, and I caught a glimpse of Vincent admiring the one to his left.

My head pounded with fear, not used to this sort of humiliation. These feelings were new-- I knew I was the only one who could save me now that John Wick was out of the country. I looked away, pressing my forehead against the floor, still fighting my captivity. 

I didn't need to look at the well-dressed Marquis to know that he was watching the whole ordeal play out before him. Then again, I didn't know a single man who wouldn't watch a woman get undressed, unwanted or not. So there I was, splayed out on the floor of my atelier, the cold winter air of my penthouse hitting my bare thighs with my red panties on display. I wanted to cry, embarrassed beyond belief about being in my underwear in front of all of these men, but also scared like never before-- would they take it further than this? Would this be the moment where what I had dreaded all my life was about to happen?

Thankfully, my pants were quickly put on, but my favorite gun was confiscated. My cheeks were still bright red, remnants of tears pooling in my eyes as I was propped back up on my knees. "Aren't you supposed to be of nobility?" I asked, speaking through gritted teeth as my head hung between my shoulders in shame. "Did no one teach you to treat ladies with respect?" I couldn't remember a time when any other member of the order had been strip-searched-- sexist fucker. 

The Marquis let out a short chuckle, the arrogance evident even in his laugh. "What makes you believe you deserve my respect after helping John Wick? You're quite rightfully on your knees now, and hopefully, you'll start begging for your life soon. For your own sake, of course," 

"I would rather carve out my own eyes than beg you for anything," I said, a low growl building in my throat along with my anger. "And you know that you need me alive. The whole of Russia will go to war against you if you kill me, and you can count on Bratva and Rusko Roma to avenge me!"

It didn't take long for the Marquis to change his mood once more-- his pompous sneer disappeared off his face with one twitch of his eye, and within the snap of a second, he threw the cup of tea across the room, shattering the glass against the wall with a crushing sound that echoed through the halls. "You will obey!" he yelled, coming towards me with loud, booming steps. Blinded by anger, he crouched down to grab my face in his hand, his grip on my cheeks making me wince. "It doesn't matter to me who your father was or how important you think you are, because you work for me!" 

"And that is where you're wrong," I continued to struggle around the grip his guards had on me, wanting nothing more than to be freed and strike him right across the face. However, a sense of calm washed over me when I realized he wasn't here to kill me-- he couldn't. "I don't work for you. I work for the High Table. You're simply a code in the software, and right now you're pissing off the highest-ranking official in the biggest country in the world. Are you trying to wage a war on Russia, Vincent?"

The mention of his first name had him squeezing my face even harder in his large, rough hands. But this time, I didn't react-- I simply stared back at him, watching the way his pupils shrunk as he focused on me like I was prey. Up close, I could see the deep scar on his cheek, the way his lips pursed with anger, and it suddenly dawned on me that he smelled like a mix of tobacco, amber, and leather. Very manly, very expensive; enticing. 

"War," he echoed, another twitch of his eye ensuing. "Pas de souci. That is not what I want. But what I do want, however..." The Marquis let go of my face, getting up from the ground. "I want John Wick dead, along with his allies. And since I can't kill you yet, it seems I have to make use of your friendship with the excommunicado." With another wave of his hand, the guards let me go-- I pressed my palms against the floor in relief, letting in a shaky heave of air. 

I looked up at him through my brows, feeling my anger pulsing through my veins. "He's long gone, Vincent. He's not coming back to Russia,"

The Marquis hummed; "Get him back, then,"

"He won't--"

"Do it, or I'll put your mother's head on a spike!" His voice boomed through the room, leaving behind an echo that made me want to wince once more. "If he's not here within a week, I will have you bound and forced to watch me rip her limbs apart!" 

My lips parted in shock, feeling as though my body had frozen over. Everything about his threat made me terrified out of my mind-- I couldn't risk it. I knew that the Marquis was dangerous and that he could easily follow through with his words; I needed to get myself together, for the sake of my family. It took a lot of power for me to get up from the ground, balling my fists as I met his threatening gaze. I watched as he stood before me, clad in a ridiculously expensive grey-ish suit, visibly ready for any fight I might want to put up. 

I wasn't stupid-- I realized I was surrounded by his guards with no other choice than to obey. I didn't even have my gun anymore, nor did I have my trusted bodyguard; I wondered whether his body still lay lifeless in the hallway, bleeding out all over my new carpet. 

I was cornered, and I knew it. Which is why I got down on one knee and put my hand over my heart, accepting my reality; "I will be of service,"

The Marquis snickered at my pledge, clearly pleased. He tilted his head to the side, his eyes rounding out in victory at the sight of me willingly kneeling. "Quelle jolie chose," he breathed, nodding to himself. "Good. Very, very good."

I wanted nothing more than to shoot a hole through his face. I couldn't wait for the day I'd get that opportunity.

vocabulary:

pas de souci: no worries

quelle jolie chose: what a pretty thing