#what a wild adventure we've all been on with these two

[seyaryminamoto]

Damn I love how absolutely clingy and shamelessly devoted Sokka and Azula are to each other in the Gladiator related chapters you’ve written for Sokkla Saturdays 2021 and 2022. It makes completely sense for them to be like this considering how much they suffered in Gladiator, first by needing to hide their relationship and later by being brutally separated from each other. They’d give Gomez and Morticia a run for their money and I love this for them.

Hahahaha, oh, what's the point of pretending anymore... 😂 those particular chapters were meant to serve as a very helpful balm over my suffering of not writing them together for WAY too long in Gladiator. Helped me to remember that I had that pretty future to look forward to!

But yep, basically, those chapters are glimpses of how things have progressed several years after the big disasters we've seen so far. There were a few hints in there that I very much added to further stir up the "is it Gladiator or isn't it?" mystery, a lot of things I've kept shrouded in secrecy, some characters aren't mentioned so I can continue to torment everyone over the uncertainty of their fate... but ultimately, the truth is what it is 🤣

Anyway, they very much are impossibly obnoxiously in love post-Gladiator, there's no questioning it, no denying it. They ocassionally hold back (particularly whenever Ursa, Hakoda or Gran Gran are around because Azula is going to be a biiiit more prone to embarrassment around those three), but most the time they're just shamelessly basking in not having to hide what they mean to each other. They didn't fight as hard as they did to get to where they are just to... sit tight and behave themselves? 🤣 that'd be too boring!

So yep! They're very much exuding Gomez-Morticia vibes all around, being each other's biggest hypeman/woman and just raising their little dorks as best as they can. Those are the happy lives they deserve 🥺 may their worst problems be who ate the last slice of pie (... okay never mind we know it's always Sokka), rather than ending a hundred years of war and surviving a million anguishing situations just to return to each other, right? :'D

(... also... as I'm here admitting things even though I tried not to admit them but you all were smart enough to figure me out because I was just that transparent... I'm gonna let ya know that chapter 2 of 2020 is also Gladiator-related, sorry not sorry, I was a lot better at hiding it that year but there you go, that's the truth...)

[pedge-page]

Joel Dealing with Preggo Wife: From Party of Two, to Family of Three

Sunday Surprise takes place right before this, but not necessary for this part

notes: you guys already know this is my favorite little crackhead family. While we've been enjoying Sarah's adventures out of order for a while, lot of people have been asking when we'll meet Ellie. Which I didn't feel it was right until we actually see Sarah's birth! So here she is. Please enjoy!

warnings: childbirth (not too graphic), a shit ton of language, comedy and fuff

- - - -

They say childbirth is a miracle. It's the single greatest, most amazing, most heavenly, life giving, breath of fresh air day of any parent’s life.

What they don't say (almost as if conveniently forgetting to even mention it) is that the moments leading up to the birth are the single most excruciating, marathon through the worst hell of a nightmare.

"YOUUU. YOUUUUUU MOTHER FUCKING--FUUCCKKEERRRR!!" The banshee (his wife, you) next to him in the car screeches directly into his ear, a death grip on his forearm.

He’s one handing these turns, blowing more red lights than he's ever yelled at Tommy for, while ready to lose his right hand to your talons and his hearing to your incessant wails.

"fuck YOU!OOOOWWAHAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!"

You squeeze your eyes shut, head crouched down while another wave of contractions splinters your insides apart. Every muscle known and unknown in your body is engaged. 

"We're almost there, you’re gonna make it--"

"YouFUCKINGfuckSTICkofaFuCkFuckshitheadfuckingbastard mothershitstainfrigginFUCK!"

You'd bash his head against his window repeatedly if your other hand wasn't already occupied cupping your rupturing belly.

Joel’s never been simultaneously in control and losing it inside all at once. He’s got one goal right now: get you to the hospital in one piece.

 That goes for driver safety but also to ensure the baby does NOT come out prior that because lord help him he would not know what comes next.

The truck screeches to a halt at the parking lot in 3 spaces. Joel tumbles out of the seat, missing a step and stumbling clumsily to his hands and knees on the pavement. He doesn’t even brush off the bruises and dirt as he’s running to you. You’ve nearly thrown him over again by how fast you swing the door open.

Both his sturdy, reliable, big hands are there for you when you take them, hoisting yourself with an agonizing yelp.

“You’re gonna be okay, you’re gonna be okay, baby momma, you’re—“

“FUCK!!!!!”

You’re clutching your belly, now way lower than it ever has been. Each step feels like fire, with Joel cradling your back and trying to get you to the front door with quick steps.

“Baby! Baby now!” Joel shouts, pointing to you with wild and pleading eyes.

You let out a horrendous scream, stopping in your tracks. Your spine, your bones, your head, and especially your stomach, is all being hit by a truck right fucking now. And you’re crying, you’ve never cried like this. It’s not the fake shit he’s gotten so accustomed to when you want a cookie or milkshake or pussy eating. This is real.

They get you in a chair and wheel you off to the delivery unit, your hand squeezing the shit out of Joel’s but he’s never once let go. He’s gone so pale, running and running alongside you, trying to answer their questions about when it started, how long, what was due date, etc. 

He’s doing a million things at once, and you’re just fighting to stay alive.

Oh, you also would forget everything you were saying at this moment. But thankfully, Joel, and the entire fucking hospital, wouldn’t.

“YOU FUCKING, COCK—FUCKER—SHIT FUCKCUnt cunt CUNT! FUCK-OHM Y MOTHERFUCKING GOD FUCK.”

They manage to get you stripped to the papery gown, push your ass onto the bed, spread you wide so the doctor can take a look.

They’re all so calm, walking around and nodding, hooking you up like you’re just here for a checkup, like they’ve done this a thousand times before.

Joel feels the worst stabbing pain along his skull as your nails dig into his hair and yank him down to your face.

“MILLER,” you seethe, venom and sweat breaking through your clenched teeth and slitted eyes. 

“Y-yes?”

You force out harsh pants, groaning, but making sure he understands you clearly right fucking now. “Give me. A fucking. Epidural.”

“I-“

“NOW!!!!”

He looks around for some assistance. “Ep—is there an--”

“WHERES THE FUCKING EPIDURAL.”

Joel makes contact with the nurse, who checks below your legs again before resurfacing with the look Joel feared above all else. While you’re heaving and and moaning in pain, Joel receives the nonverbal confirmation she passes to him:

It’s too fucking late for an epidural.

Both Joel and the nurse also pass a clear, mutual understanding about how to pass that info on to you:

“ITS COMING!” He nods reassuringly to you, exceedingly over the top acting. “Right nurse? See she said it’s coming!”

“Any second now, we’ll get that epidural—“ she agrees, nodding and nodding with a thumbs up to you extra confidence.

“FUUUUCCCCKCKKKKKK,” you sink lower, back falling and head tossed as wave of new pain ripples through you.

“FUUCCKKING —Fuck J-Joel. Joel Miller—“

“yes baby, I’m here.”

“Im getting a fucking epidural.”

“Yes you fucking are.”

“You fuckers aren’t lying to me?”

Joel glances at the nurse again, who quickly shakes her head at you with her calm, straightforward, trusting voice of reason: “No ma’am we would never.”

Praise this woman, he thinks. “That’s right baby she’s telling ya, its coming—“

“I’ll FUCKING kill you, Joel Miller. Do you know that?”

“Yes-“

“I fucking HATE you right now.”

“Yes—“

“You shit—fuck bag motherfucker, I HATE you—you—you—“ and you start sobbing “—did this to me!”

“I did—“

“YOU!”

“ME.”

Back again to an angered, snarling beast, you growl, “I’ll rip your fucking cock off. I’m fucking you up so fucking bad when we get home, you can never FUCKIN’ do this fucking shit to me again. Balls in the fucking blender.”

“Balls in the blender,” he repeats with absolute conviction, not an ounce of protest in him.

“The FUCkING blender—you hear me fucker?”

“The fucking blender, for sure baby, anything you want right after this.”

“Ugh--oh dfuck Joel its coming!”

“Yeah?” He asks, and its the first time he hears his own voice waver. Holy fuck this is it. This is the moment for the last 9 months its actually here—

“Just another contraction,” the doctor confirms casually.

FUCK DOC HOW LONG DOES THIS TAKE I can’t feel my skull!

“CUNT SUCKER!” You scream, holding Joel’s head hostage as you chant through your breathing pants.

“Any where’s my MOTHERFUCKING epidural!”

“It’s coming! It’s coming!” Joel nods to his now best friend nurse, who’s also nodding dramatically to keep you distracted from the epidural that is absolutely not on its way.

“Miller,” you growl, shoving his nose right against yours. You stare into his very soul, like Death herself ripping his life choices out of his body and spilling them under your eyes. “I think that Bitch is lying to me. There’s no fucking epidural coming, is there.”

“There is, baby, she said it herself, I checked…”

“Are you fucking lying to me Miller?”

“Never baby, we’d never lie to you, right?” He gestures to the nurse again, who nods diligently again. “See baby, no lying, we’d never lie.”

He watches your jaw drop, voice disappear as another roar is ripped from your chest..

“I can’t do this.”

“You can, you can and will. I’ll give you anything you want, right after you do this.”

“I want you fucking DEAD.”

“Sure thing. Want a divorce too?”

“I’m CONSIDERING IT,” you bark a baritone lower like the devil. “FuuuUUUCCCKKKK!!!!!”

“I’ll get the papers printed right up. Favorite pen signed an’ all. But only after you have this baby tonight—“

The doctor checks the monitor again just as you let out a piercing scream. 

“Ma’am it’s time to push.”

“YOU PUSH!” You shout, waving your arm at him but unable to put a curse to the end of it. Your pains are coming through quicker, no longer waves but an unyielding rumbling as the baby kicks and punches and squirms and—

Joel is by your side, taking your hand in his. He’s prepped this speech in his head a million times, every night, every time he felt that baby kick or watched you struggle to tie your shoes, every single second, he’s perfected it:

“It’s here. Its happening. You’re gonna do this, we’re gonna do this together, you and me, right now—“

“Nope.”

“We—what?”

Your voice is calm and face plain. “Changed my mind. Not having this baby.”

“Yes you for fucking sure are.”

“Nope no. I’m returning it. Got the receipt.”

“There—there IS NO RECEIPT.”

“Yes—I got it—90 day warranty—“ your face tightens, clenching out the last word as if you’re mentally willing this baby to not pop out right now. But by god this baby is not taking your bullshit any longer.

“We are way past the 90 day warranty, honey, you’re having this baby, TODAY, Right NOW!”

“Nope, nope I’m gonna suck it back in!” 

It seems all ability to ‘suck it back in’ has failed, as the nurse shouts clearly “I see a head!”

Your voice breaks in the most heart wrenching “I CAN’T—“ you sob, terror in your voice.

You scream again, and it’s the worst thing Joel’s ever heard. He feels like a kid again, for the first time in a long while, when his parents fought, and the sounds of their voices carried upstairs to his and Tommy’s bedroom. He wanted to run, hide in the closet, cover his ears, cradling himself and rock back and forth, shut his eyes and his mind out, drain everything away. Instead, he held Tommy, he watched Tommy, he calmed Tommy. He bared the brunt of it, and the fear, he learned to control it.

The control is gone. He’s fearing again. And it’s not his parents having an argument over watermelon seeds, but his wife experiencing the most unimaginable pain right now, and it’s because of him, it really is, just like you said. Worse than nails on a chalkboard, glass in his eyes, fire on his feet. He’s so scared, everything he had tried to train for, for you, for this moment, is collapsing before him, and he’s not gonna make it—

Every fiber in his body grips your hand more tightly than possible. “You can,” he says, sturdy yet trembling. He’s scared.

He’s always known what to do, what comes next, how to make your pain and sadness and tears go away. He’s perfected it, knowing what to get you or what to say to make it all better, but now?  He doesn’t know what comes next. Doesn’t know how to make it stop, help you through it, take your worries and griefs—you’re on your own and he’s just next to you, and its not enough, and he can’t help, and he doesn’t know what to do—He doesn’t know what to do-Hedoesntknowwhattodo!

“Hey.”

He feels a gentle hand on his shoulder; the nurse who’s holding all the pieces of his heart and sanity together. She looks at him, focused, locked in from the moment your wailing, miserable self was wheeled in here, and has been doing everything he can’t.

“We’re right there. I need you to ground her,” she says. “Can you do that?”

He nods, tightening his lips. He remembers your hand in his now, remembers where he is, in this moment, and its all the matters.

He’s here. And he wants—needs you to know he’s not going anywhere.

He calls your name. “It’s time, okay baby?” Steady. Reassuring. Level headed. Strong. Rock. Crutch. Love. Everything he’s good at. Everything you know him by. “I need you to push.”

You shake your head again, eyes squeezed shut and teeth clenching hard. But he nods, because he’s gonna do the nodding, and the yes’ing, and he’s gonna take everything that’s ever caused you wrong or pain or sadness away because it’s what he does.

It’s what makes him keep going.

“FUCK! MOTHER———MOTHERFUCKER!!!!AHHHHHHHHH!!”

“Keep going!” The nurse encourages. “Dad, you’re doing great, keep getting her to focus—“

“I’M NOT GETTING MY FUCKING EPIDURAL!!!!!!!!!!!!” You sob in finality, the truth seeping into your bones. “YOU FUCKING—MOTHERFUCKING CUNNT SHIT STICK LITTLE BI—“ 

“For Christ’s sake, SHUT THE FUCK UP!” The nurse howls, and the entire room goes silent, even you. Joel stares at her dumbfounded. 

‘“The baby. Is HERE,” she huffs definitively. 

“Now fucking—PUSH!”

 - 

Joel’s heart has stopped. 

He doesn’t know where it is, but he knows it’s no longer in his body. 

Its not until he hears the first, most beautifully devastating croak of an angelic cry that he’s felt his heartbeat resume again, and its being cradled gently by the nurse as she pulls the tiniest, wrinkliest, most precious thing on this planet from between your legs.

“Congratulations, mom and dad. A healthy, happy baby girl.”

There’s no way this little—thing—this… bean—can be a baby. It’s the size of both his hands together, and so incredibly delicate, my god, weighing almost nothing and yet the sheer weight of who she is has him nearly capsizing at this very moment.

She’s wrapped delicately in cloth, face and nostrils wiped of fluids before landing gracefully in your outstretched arms. And it’s like the cosmos has realigned in harmony.

No amount of sweat, tears, crazy hair and braised skin, torn clothing and achy muscles could possibly deter the absolute love bursting from your chest as you hold the tiny baby in your grasp. “Hi,” you whimper with a big smile, eyes floating in a shiny haze pf exhaustion and happiness, looking down upon her. “Hi baby girl.” you laugh, tears falling freely as you shake your head and hold her closer, as close as possible, reabsorbing her into your bare chest, and you feel it. Her skin on yours. You’ve carried her this entire time, and yet it’s like you’re feeling her for the first time in your life.

Joel curls next to you, his big palm splayed over top her whole body, touching her. And it’s the first time, the first time he’s felt his daughter. He had been separated by the membrane of your belly, anxiously, excitedly waiting all this time to meet her, and now she’s here. She’s here. Neither one of you can believe it.

Your little baby wiggles, cooing noise stuck in her throat as she settles from her cries. she’s so wrinkly, skin still absorbing all that fresh air, working color into those cheeks and hands, fingers and toes. Her eyes are too swollen, not yet ready to say hi to this world. But that’s okay. Because her mom and dad are still going to be right here when she wakes up, the first people who will introduce her to the world around her. Because she is their world.

“Joel,” you whisper softly. He hears you. He’s here. He hasn’t left your side once. You know he’s here, you’re grateful. He’s here. He loves you. 

“Joel,” you hum again. “She’s beautiful.”

You tremble against him. Shaken from love and joy, more than your entire achy body can contain as you bring her little head to your lips and press the most fulfilling kiss to her.

Joel cups her little head. He wants to hold her, but he’s gotta wait. Fuck after all this time, he’s gotta wait. And it’s enough. He can handle it because he’s so fucking overwhelmed that she’s finally here.

“She’s the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen,” he rasps into your hair, kissing you tenderly.

Joel steps outside the room, softly closing the door behind him. He watches from the glass window pane, with you perfectly framed in the center as its only subject. Just the way he’s seen the world every day since he met you. 

Only this time, you hold another part of you, and him, in your arms.  The two of you, together. Like the only things that will ever matter to him.

And suddenly, Joel lets himself feel it all.

He clutches his mouth with the entirety of his palm, his yelp buzzing in his hoarse throat. He feels his knees give way, tumbling to the ground, one hand holding the wall while the other grips his face to keep the cries at bay. And he cries. He cries harder than he’s ever cried, and they’re wonderful. They hurt like kisses, burn like candy, ache like love. 

He wants to go back in there.

Quickly wiping his face clean, he stands up, straightening himself.

“Hey.”

The nurse who had delivered his baby stands next to him.

“She did fantastic. You both did.”

Joel tries to clear his throat, but his face is so obviously still red, swollen and barely holding it together. She doesn’t question nor judge the tough guy facade, yet completely speaks to his soul, telling him everything he didn’t know he needed to hear. “She’s 7 pounds, 2 ounces. Ten fingers and toes. Brown eyes. Hearing is great, so is—“

“Thank you,” he interrupts.

She goes quiet but offers a gentle smile. 

As he stares at her, the literal saint that got you and his baby through this, from point A to B, he realizes  nothing is coming to his head.

“I’m sorry, I … I don’t even know your name.”

She laughs. “I would not expect you to. You had way more to worry about.”

“Well, I just … really, really wanted to say…. Thank you…”

“Sarah,” she responds.

“Sarah,” he repeats. He repeats it over and over again in his mind, as if its going to stick, and he doesn’t quite know why yet.

“I’ll give you two—three, some time together,” she says, gathering the checkerboard hanging by the wall. “Then I’ll be back to help get her ready to take home, and let your wife sleep some more.”

He nods, looking down then back up, just as she’s patting his shoulder reassuringly and turning away to attend her other duties.

-

When he steps back inside, you look up to him. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he whispers back. Now that the dust has settled, he can finally see just how exhausted you are. The absolute train wreck that has battered your body this last hour really settling in, and it makes his chest sore to see you like that. Your gown pulled halfway down to your ribcage, tousled hair sticking awkwardly to your forehead and back from all the dried sweat. And yet none of it, absolutely nothing, is getting in the way of that smile that hasn’t left your cheeks since the moment you heard her cry.

“She’s sleeping,” you hum, looking back down at your daughter, who’s coddled up in a wrap and little cap.

“You thinking about putting the baby down, getting some sleep too?”

“Never.”

He smirks, looking down at her again.

“You think about any names yet?” You ask, stroking over her little forehead.

The two of you had thought about it. A lot. You didn’t want it to be random, but you didn’t want it to be weird. It had to have meaning, but not so closely related to a family member that you’d always mess them up at thanksgiving. It had to remind you of someone strong, unique, purposeful but distant enough that she could to grow and make it her own. 

And this was a girl, after all, so it had to be someone that could put momma AND papa in their place whenever shit got too crazy. 

“I’ve got…one.”

-

Joel helps dress the baby from her swaddled blanket into clothes.

“They’re gonna be a little bit big at first—“ you say, giggling as the two of you realize that the smallest clothes in the world are still a little too baggy on your little—so fucking little—girl.

Joel doesn’t waver, helping put her bitty legs through the loose pant legs…

You see him wipe his lips quickly, swallowing a lump to clear his throat.

“Joel, are you crying?”

“No,” he rasps like a whimper. “M’just sweatin’ through my eyes.”

You let out a chuckle, and Joel tries to do the same, but then he looks down at his little angel again, who’s stretching herself out in the new cloth that’s practically a giant coat on her. Joel starts to tremble. “She’s so perfect,” he weeps, and the shine in his eyes are clear as day.

“Oh baby, it’s okay to cry! I’m gonna cry too—“ you bawl, and now the two of you cry over this little girl who’s just trying to figure out why this blanket is stuck to her.

Not a great first impression from mom and dad but she’ll just have to deal with it.

And just like that, the Miller family went from party of two, to family of three.

-

6 weeks later…

The baby monitor crackles to life, and Joel is already tossing the blanket aside before the baby utters her first cry. He’s already up, kissing your forehead with “I’ll get her," almost excitedly through the heavy lull of sleep. You barely get a noise out of your throat, already snoring away into the pillow. He’s exhausted too, but his feet carry him onward with droopy eyes as if on their own.

He’s still not happy about the pink paint color of her bedroom, but that hardly matters right now. Terribly dramatic cries echo from the crib ahead. He scoops his little bean—since that’s what she looks like all curly in her onesie—supporting her head carefully and tucking her into one elbow. 

He rocks her squirming, agitated body back and forth in one arm as he shakes the now warmed bottle in his other hand. Joel tries to get her screaming mouth to take the cap, but she shakes her head, avoiding him at all costs to her own detriment.

 "Oh you’re such a squiggly girly for daddy. I got ya bubbas right here, quick ya cryin’. You’re gonna wake up mommy." 

As if she understands how she wouldn’t want to cause YOU any problems, his baby stops crying and accepts the bottle between her lips. Once she finally has her snacking, she peacefully looks back up to him, studies him. 

"There she is.  Told ya." He grins, swaying back and forth as she stares back at him with those big beautiful brown eyes. You definitely got one of your wishes: Joel’s eyes. The rest of her, is yours.

He’s hypnotized, so in love with her he didn’t think it was possible to love something as much as you. He already knows he’s gonna get her the dog, the kitty, the pony, the car, credit card, dress, house, anything she points to really; he’s never going to be able to say no to those enchanting eyes.

All of her bitty fingers fist around Joel’s pointer, as if to anchor her, and she doesn't let go as she drinks safely.  

She’s only 10 pounds now, but he feels like Atlas, carrying the entire weight of the world all curled up in his arms right now. Ans he'd carry this weight forever if he could, would pump iron and concrete slabs and oceans just to stay in shape and keep his girl in his arms for eternity, never to tire.

“My babygirl,” he whispers with a grin, pursing his lips close to her. “My little baby Sarah.”

- - - -

taglist:

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop @himboelover @callsignwidow @wintersquirrel @fluffygoffpanda @picketniffler @bbyanarchist @jeewrites

[joequiinn]

When the Wolfsbane Blooms | part i | e.m. x reader au

Summary | September 1916. Edward Munson is back in Hawkins after 13 years, returning to live with his uncle who serves as groundskeeper to the Talbot Estate. Upon his return it’s as if nothing has changed... except the Talbot daughter, who wasn’t nearly so striking back when they were children. But a strange danger seems to coincide with Eddie’s arrival, and all it takes is one fateful night to expose him to exactly what this danger is…

Tags & Warnings | 18+, angsty horror romance, fem reader, depictions of violence and death, smut and nsfw themes, reader last name for plot purposes, use of some 3rd person narrative, historical inaccuracies

A.N | Sooo, this was supposed to be a oneshot for Halloween, but the plot got away from me, and now we've got a big fic. Due to the premise and time period, Eddie may be ooc, but I tried my best to make him fit the era, and the vibes are so worth it!

W.C | 10.3k

!! MINORS DNI !!

“The way you walked was thorny…”

August 1900

The Talbot Estate was a wonder in the late summer, its grounds awash with blooming colors of calendulas and borages, of dahlias and cosmos. To you, it seemed the soil was rich with magic and splendor, for how could the hands of man ever maintain something quite so beautiful? It couldn’t be the hard work of the groundskeeper, always watering and weeding, slaving away under the hot sun for the sake of your family’s gardens - no, it was clearly the power of fairies or sprites that grew the flowers so vivid and the trees so high.

Although the extensive gardens were forever stunning, you favored the surrounding fields as your playground instead, the wild and untamed things far more exciting than the lavish flowerbeds and neat rows of vegetables. It was the rolling hills and woodlands of the seemingly endless Talbot Estate where wonder truly lied, although many days you may have been the only one to see it. Surrounded by the tall grass and wildflowers and imposing trees, you were an explorer - not a mere girl of eight, but a true adventurer of the world, awaiting her next great discovery.

When the days were warm and the sun was high, you could always be found skipping over tangling tree roots or lying amongst the wild helenium. And such is where you were found this lovely August afternoon, snuck upon by the groundskeeper's ward, Edward, the only person in the entire world perhaps more rascally than yourself; or so you thought, as your whole world had only ever consisted of your family grounds and the nearby town of Hawkins.

“You’ll be stung to death if you lie here all day.” The boy’s playful words startled you out of your lazy reverie, having been soothed nearly to sleep by the buzzing of insects around your head. He plopped down to sit beside you, his knobby knee bumping your leg with impatient, childish glee. With a smile wide enough to show off your two missing teeth, you sat up eagerly with a stretch of your arms, your dress wrinkled and the hem stained green from the grass; grass so tall you were both hidden from sight, like two predators stalking their prey.

“The bees wouldn’t dare sting me, we’re good friends.” You argued, delighting in the way Edward grinned back at you and your fanciful way of thinking. He made a conspiratory look, that familiar face he always pulled when he was about to share a tall tale - Edward had always been a storyteller, and you the ever attentive listener.

“You think of them as your friends?” He leaned forward, and so you did the same, coming close enough that he could whisper his closely guarded secret, “No, they fool you. Their queen has it out for you, you know, she’s instructed they play nice to lull you into a false sense of security.”

You giggled into your dirt-covered hand, Edward’s eyes twinkling at how easily he could amuse you, “And what does the queen have against me?”

Although he was only nine years old (nearly ten, he had a habit of reminding you recently), Edward had such control of his face that sometimes you thought he was ninety. His expression became gravely serious, he looked around as if fearful the bees may hear the two of you, leaning even closer while cupping his hand around your ear to keep those pesky eavesdroppers from listening.

“She is jealous. You are like Snow White, ‘a thousand times more fair.’”

Your cheeks grew hot, so easily charmed by Edward’s words; you hid behind your hands, smile large and eyes shining. His own ears were pink despite the proud, confident look on his face; you stared at one another, both nearly too embarrassed to speak.

“Eddie, you are a terrible liar.” You said with a grin, nervously picking at the grass by your feet, getting its threads stuck beneath your fingernails.

“Liar?” He questioned mischievously, “But it was no exaggeration.”

You stared at your feet, unable to look him in the eye. You were too young to truly understand the vastness of emotions blooming between you two this past summer, to know exactly the words for why you looked upon this silly boy as if he were the sun. But you were intelligent enough to know that you felt for him differently than you had before, to know that perhaps this was some child-like semblance of puppy love.

You carefully glanced up at him through your lashes, another conspiring look passing between the two of you, “If you’re caught speaking like that, Edward Munson, they may force you to marry me.”

With a charmed smile, Edward shook his head, eyes alight as he stared back at you, “Oh, Ms. Talbot, I don’t think they’ll allow it.”

“Good.” You said defiantly, rising to your feet and dusting off your skirts, useless as it may be. You squinted against the sunlight as you looked across the fields; your family estate in the distance was like a foreboding beacon, one you quickly turned your gaze from, “Marriage wouldn’t suit me, I have the whole world to see, and a husband would simply hold me back.”

Edward stood with you, the breeze ruffling his hair as he stretched his arms up in the air, fingers splaying wide as if he could brush the clouds in the sky, “But do we not have the whole world here at our fingertips already?”

You two shared an innocent smile, and without a word of warning you quickly spun around and began traipsing through the flowers and weeds, happily going along knowing that Edward was sure to follow. His footfall was merely a step behind you, although with his long legs he could very easily surpass you in stride should he choose. But dutifully he allowed you to lead, and so you pumped your arms and legs a little faster.

“And what is here that I can’t find out there?” You questioned eagerly, bursting out of the grassiest part of the field which neighbored a small pond, one of many scattered about the expansive Talbot Estate. Bugs skated across the water’s surface, a bird glided past your head, a frog croaked somewhere from within a log.

“I’d bet there’s acres of this land that you haven’t seen.” Edward challenged, and you wondered if he’d grown taller recently - why did it feel as if you had to crane your head to look at him more than you did yesterday? You crossed your arms with a smart look, suspecting that he knew something that you didn’t, if that mischievous twinkle in his eye was any indicator.

“And you have?”

The excited smile that overtook his entire face was only confirmation that he had something to share, some new discovery that he was certain you’d absolutely delight in, “Do you know there’s a chapel on your family’s grounds?”

You made a curious face, having never heard about it before. Where could it possibly be hiding, and why had you not previously known of it? You shook your head with disbelief, although you were certainly eager for Edward to follow through and reveal this chapel’s secret hiding place to you.

“If we have a chapel, why hasn’t my father ever shown it to me?” You asked defiantly, debating that perhaps Edward was trying to trick you.

He gave the kind of noncommittal shrug that only a child could, his face showing annoyance that you didn’t believe him, “Maybe he doesn’t know either.”

“But he knows everything.” You argued with silly logic, causing Edward to laugh a little. That was the difference between eight years old and nearly ten years old, the difference between wealth and poverty - he’d stopped believing that his father knew everything long ago.

“I’ll show you.” He insisted stubbornly, although the light in his rich brown eyes gave away his excitement. Your own innocent expression grew wide with exhilaration, eager to see this supposed chapel with your own two eyes.

All it took was for you to nod once, and Edward grabbed your hand, running clumsily over rocks and through brush towards the most northern end of the Talbot property. It wasn’t an easy area to trek, less kempt than the rest of the estate, trees growing taller and wider as it edged along the expansive forest. Perhaps that’s why you’d never seen this chapel, as the northern property seemed far and wide, intimidating even the most adventurous of small children.

But with Edward’s companionship, the journey was exciting, full of wonder and endless curiosity. Eventually, you tugged your hand from his own, struggling to keep up with his longer legs, although you didn’t dare stop moving, else you might lose him amongst the brush and trees. You two laughed at nothing, simply happy for each other’s company, running and running for what felt like an eternity.

The roll of hills slowed you down, the tangle of branches caused brief pauses, but eventually Edward came to a stop, doubling over with his hands on his knees as he caught his breath. His cheeks were splotchy pink as his chest moved quickly, and you yourself had to sit upon a stump thanks to the burning of your calves. From your vantage point, you looked around, a chapel nowhere in sight, and you very nearly whipped your disappointed gaze onto Edward, to scold him for tricking you like this.

That is, until you finally saw it.

Peaking over bright green leaves, a stone spire just barely protruded, practically lost among the foliage. You gawked while rising back to your feet, both shocked and excited to see that Edward was, in fact, speaking the truth. The two of you shared a look, his face satisfied to be proven right, and you once more smiled from ear to ear before stomping down the hill to find the rest of the building.

The chapel stood derelict and decrepit, clearly forgotten about after what must have been a long time. The bricks were covered in moss and lichen, ivy crawling its way up corners and railings, abandoned birds’ nests littering windowsills and the belfry. Even from here, you could see that parts of the roof had caved in, that pieces of stone had worn away from the hands of time.

But curiously, the flowers appeared well-kept, planted fresh in spite of the chapel’s abandonment. It was a flower you recognized from your books of botany, although you weren’t quite certain yet which plant it was - amongst your books there were many beautifully drawn depictions of purple flowers upon sprawling stalks. What would compel someone to return to this ramshackle structure simply to maintain its blooms, you wondered.

You and Edward shared a look of both fear and excitement - although it was unspoken, you both had the sense that you weren’t supposed to be here, and that sent a buzz through your entire body. There was something daunting about the chapel, perhaps something even dangerous, and yet the thrill of that risk was all too gripping to ignore.

You tried to put on a brave face, even as you reached for Edward’s hand again; you held your chin high as if to hide your nerves, acting as if you grabbed his hand not for your sake, but for his. And he said nothing on the matter, squeezing your fingers in his own for reassurance, the both of you slowly approaching the imposing structure.

Those curious purple flowers kept your attention as you drew closer, the way they were planted all around the edges of the chapel - they were practically four walls of their own, a fence of sorts as if to adorn what was housed inside. Drawing closer, Edward reached his fingertips towards the enchanting petals, but you tugged at his other hand, as if the imminent danger suddenly jogged your little botanist memory.

“They’re poisonous.” The words fell delicately from your lips, Edward giving you a quizzical look as the pair of you stopped. You studied the flowers with trepidation, shrinking away from their reach, “Wolfsbane.”

Of course you should have remembered that sooner - your father had an entire encyclopedia of poisonous plants that you found far more fascinating than all the rest. You’d always had an interest in plantlife, even before you could read, so as you grew your father showed you the corner of the library dedicated to such a subject, allowing you to marvel over the pictures while tripping over the Latin names scrawled upon the pages. That book of poisonous plants was one of your favorites, perhaps because of all the beautiful colors that masked the dangers lying just within - but you were too young to read into the deeper meaning of that.

Edward continued the trek forward, tugging at your hand so that you would follow. When you reached the rotted, termite infested doors, he gave a firm push, but they wouldn’t budge. With a determined furrow of his brow, Edward looked around for another way in, but even the shattered windows were too high for you to safely climb. So, he tried forcing the door again; it was once you began to help that it finally began to scrape along the stone floor, the sound grating to your ears as the two of you huffed with each insistent push.

Finally, there was enough space for the two of you to slink inside, and you shared a daunted look with one another now that the path was clear.

“You go first.” You whispered, and Edward’s eyes widened a little, affronted at your instruction.

“Me?”

“Eddie, please.” You requested, swallowing nervously. You looked around, as if fearful that you’d be caught now that you’d gotten this far into your journey.

Edward sucked in his lips and looked at the gap in the door, into the imposing darkness, debating if it was too late to turn back now. He slowly returned his gaze to you, as if afraid that if he turned his back on the dark, it may swallow him whole.

“Hold my hand.” He requested, and you obliged without question or hesitation. You both pressed your backs to the door, shuffling in one right behind the other, feet carefully gliding as you went together into the foreboding chapel.

Despite the fearful drumming of your heart, you were put at ease by sunlight streaming in through the deteriorated roof and ruined windows. You exhaled deeply, sharing another look with Edward as you unclasped your clammy hands.

“Nothing to be afraid of.” He said with ease, as if to calm the both of you down. The corner of your mouth pulled up in a weak grin before you finally looked around the small chapel around you.

The floor was littered with dust and debris, scattered with feathers and leaves. The pews were in tattered pieces, the podium left abandoned on its side; one iron candelabrum still stood tall, melted wax molded upon its holders, but its brethren had fallen much like everything else. You gasped a little at the sight of bones near your feet, but held in the desire to shout with disgust. But then your eyes caught a dried, coppery trail from the bones to the door just behind you, and your heart rate spiked with puzzled fear.

Edward slowly walked past the shredded, crumbling pews, taking careful steps as he approached what was once the altar; where candles should have rested, instead there were more bones and abandoned bits of nature. But you could tell, even while watching his back, that something peculiar caught his eye, and you bit your lip with hesitation.

“Eddie��?”

He reached out towards the ground beside the altar, the sound of scrapping metal making you cringe as he picked something up. He turned around with the cumbersome material in hand, revealing to you a rusted chain weight down by a shackle. Another pang of panic drummed in your chest, finding this place no longer exciting and worth exploring, but rather ominous and frightening - you were not supposed to be here.

Letting your eyes wander, you realized that wasn’t the only chain, that another could be found just opposite of where Edward stood; he seemed to realize the same thing, looking back at you with alarmed eyes, although this place made the darkness of his eyes unnerving instead of comforting.

“I think there’s a reason your dad never brought you here…” His voice was edgy, face appearing nearly gaunt in the low lighting.

“Maybe he doesn’t know.” You countered, although it was clear that you’d only said that for your own comfort. Something told you that your father was most certainly aware of whatever happened in this chapel, although you weren’t sure how you could tell such a thing. A shiver ran up your spine, a sensation so cold that you wrapped your arms around yourself, nervously digging your fingernails into your skin, “I think we should go.”

Edward nodded even as he continued to look around, as if he couldn’t help his innate curiosity to see more, to understand what secrets lie here on Talbot property - you could see in his face that despite the potential peril, he was desperate to know more.

Behind you, the door abruptly scratched agonizingly along the floor, causing you to scream and Edward to drop the chains with a raucous clang as he shouted. In the same breath, you attempted to run towards Edward while spinning to face the sudden danger, causing yourself to trip and fall to the floor. The palms of your hands scraped across stone and dirt and bone, instantly sore as you scrambled towards the altar on all fours.

But before you could even make it a couple feet, something grabbed the back of your dress and pulled, causing you to shout again; you briefly caught a glimpse of Edward’s face in the chaos, and although there was fear alight in his eyes, it certainly wasn’t the kind of terror that you had expected.

“What in God’s name are you two doing here?” Your father’s distraught voice bellowed in your ear, ringing menacingly off the walls. He forced you to your feet with another strong yank, turning you around to face him; you assumed that his face would be red with anger, that his eyes would be full of rage, that his nostrils would flare with fury. But instead, what you saw was horror.

The chaos of the moment made your head spin, and suddenly tears were pricking at your eyes, lips quivering with shaken breath; you cried even as you tried to fight it, eyes locked with your father’s as his alarm melted into worry.

“We didn’t know--!” You attempted to explain, but your emotions made you stutter and trip over your words, making a hiccup leap from your throat.

Your father’s eyes were so caring and apprehensive as he knelt before you, large hands gently grasping yours for reassurance; but as his gaze looked past your shoulder and towards Edward, who was still frozen with fear at the altar, something changed. There was a darkness that seemed to suddenly shroud his eyes, a cruelty knitting his brows and a foreboding suspicion twisting his face. The expression was unlike anything you’d ever seen before, as if your father was seeing something that you didn’t.

Your father rose to his feet, his posture menacing as outrage overtook his face, “You brought her here!”

He released your hands, pointing an accusatory finger at Edward, whose hands were trembling, face pale with alarm. Your father’s shout caused your blubbering to grow worse, but he stepped around you as if you were forgotten, moving as if he intended on causing harm.

“Do you have any idea what kind of danger is in this place? And you brought her here!?”

You watched the confrontation with absolutely helplessness, feeling terror at the sight of your father acting so savage. Frantically, Edward looked around in search of some means of escape, knowing he didn’t stand a chance trying to run past your father and out the door. Your ears rang, vision blurry from tears, as you prayed that nothing bad would happen to him, that maybe your father would show mercy despite his animal-like aggression.

“I-- I didn’t…” Edward was at a loss for words, far too terrified to defend himself. You saw his eyes flick towards one of the shattered windows, clearly gauging if he could make the climb, if he could make the jump; your father saw this too, taking one large, threatening step in the direction of the window to flex his power over the situation.

“I always knew you were trouble, but I could never see it until now.” Your father insulted through his teeth as if he’d had some kind of revelation, his body tense with anger.

“I’m not--” Edward sounded so weak, so petrified; another hiccup interrupted your crying, a weak sound whining in your throat as if to protest your father’s actions.

“Aren’t you?” Did your father nearly sound amused by that? Why did it seem that his words were laced with a mocking malice, as if there were a smile upon his face?

Despite knowing the odds weren’t in his favor, Edward made an abrupt dash for the broken window, using the pews beneath as leverage to jump up and grab hold of the sill littered with broken stained glass. Your father moved only a second later, ever determined to grab the offensive boy and teach him a lesson.

But by some miracle, Edward managed to climb up despite crying out in pain, glass stabbing into his palms as he yanked himself up and over, the shattered remains of the window ripping his pants as he briefly straddled the sill before dropping out of your sight. Your father was just moments too late, angrily clenching his fist around the air in front of him with an enraged growl.

You stared out the window at the green leaves swaying tranquilly in the wind, as if to contradict what had just happened here; you sighed with relief that Edward managed to get away. Tears continued to stream down your face, but you felt numb, as if all the anxiety and fear had drained you of anything else.

When your father turned back around, his expression was far too calm considering the circumstances of what had just transpired; he took deep breaths through his nose, fighting to compose himself. It almost looked as if shame flashed across his eyes as he looked pitifully down at you, as if he realized that he’d behaved dreadfully, frighteningly, that he’d acting like an animal in front of you.

He approached and scooped you into his arms; despite everything, you still clung to him, resting your head on his shoulder as your crying slowly began to mellow out.

“I’m so sorry, my darling, I’m so sorry…” He repeated the apology over and over and over again as he carefully stepped out of the chapel, mindful of protecting your small body as he moved lightly on his feet. He briskly walked down the uneven cobbled steps and past the blockade of wolfsbane as he comfortingly rubbed your back, his voice attempting to sooth your tears.

Despite their dangerous, poisonous nature, you found comfort in the flowers’ purple-hued petals.

‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗

September 1916

Eddie Munson would never have predicted he’d return to Hawkins one day; a few years ago, he would have bet all the money in the world that he’d never see his hometown again. No, once his father showed up following a five year disappearance, insisting that his young son hit the road with him, little Edward barely looked back. It wasn’t for a hatred of his home, nor for any troubles with his uncle, the man who practically raised him - but it was some youthful whimsy and desire, his childlike need to see what was beyond his front door. He was only twelve when his father returned, and as such he thought there would be great adventures to be had, falling for all the promises of happiness laid at his feet.

Of course, it didn’t take long for trouble to start. It seemed that everywhere Alan and Edward Munson went, bad things followed - an arrest in one city, a get-rich-quick scheme in another, a string of debt so long that they’d never see the end of it. As a boy, Eddie hadn’t quite realized how bad it was; but as the years took their toll, he found himself longing for a way back home.

He missed the cozy little cottage shared with his uncle, the smell of the gardens just yards from their front porch, the joys once shared with the Talbot daughter who he had no right to be friends with. All that time away had nearly caused him to forget his childhood friend, his companion in an otherwise lonely world; but once he began to crave his home in Hawkins, Eddie often found himself reveling in the memories of their days spent together. 

The familiarity and comfort of home had been calling out to Eddie, it had become a beacon of hope as times with his father grew worse and worse, his tolerance for this life wearing thin. So, Eddie came up with a scheme of his own, hiding money in tricky ways because his father knew all the usual tactics, mapping out which city they blew through would make his departure the easiest and the quickest.

Really, he could have left at any time - he was a man now, he no longer had to do as he was told, no longer needed permission before making decisions for himself. But Al was a trickster of a man, so much so that he’d find a way to manipulate his boy into staying simply because Eddie was a valuable asset to him.

They were up in Michigan when Eddie finally made his move as his father slept off his drunken haze in the dingy boarding house they’d taken residence in the past month. Eddie had been writing to Wayne for some weeks now, informing the man of his plan and its progression; although Eddie feared his abandoned uncle would want nothing to do with him, the words of forgiveness in his letters were a reassurance on Eddie’s doubtful heart.

When Eddie and Al first settled in upon their arrival in Michigan, Eddie took what chances he could to call the Talbot Estate, hoping to speak with his uncle in preparation - it was shocking to him when his first call was answered by Magda, the elderly housekeeper who had worked for the family Eddie’s entire life. Again, he felt trepidation, but the woman seemed pleased to hear from him, although once she’d been informed of Eddie’s return, she worried over Sir Talbot’s reaction.

That nearly made Eddie’s heart drop into his stomach, fearful that he wouldn’t be welcomed back simply because of a foolish day from sixteen years ago. As if able to read his mind - which was always a startling trait of Magda’s - she reassured him that she’d discuss the subject with her boss, that she’d put the man’s mind at ease. Of all the staff of the estate, Sir Talbot trusted Magda with his life, and if there was anyone that could change his opinion about a matter, it would certainly be her.

And so with everything set, Eddie left for the train station without a single look back, accepting easily that he’d likely never see his father again.

Once he set foot on the depot platform in Hawkins following a near two-day trip, Eddie was struck by how little his hometown had changed - yes, Hawkins was keeping up with the times as best it could, but it was as if the air felt exactly as it did the day he left in 1903. And as he rode through town alongside a farmer willing to give him a lift, he took in that comforting familiarity of the buildings and the roads and the people who hadn’t seemed to change at all.

As a boy, he hadn’t left the Talbot Estate often - Wayne’s job was sometimes all-consuming, so if Eddie did come into Hawkins proper, it was at the side of one of the maids collecting goods, and eager little Eddie was always first to volunteer his assistance. When Wayne was so busy that he couldn’t keep an eye on his boy, the maids took care of Eddie, giving him tasks to stay occupied, teaching him skills that may or may become handy in the future; if it weren’t for one maid in particular, Eddie probably would have been illiterate for half his life.

The streets of Hawkins seemed fresh with new cobbles, many shops with new coats of paint, and more people seemed to congest every direction that he looked - Eddie knew Hawkins had changed more than he thought, and yet that sense of home made it look exactly as it did thirteen years ago.

The farmer dropped Eddie off outside the tall, rod iron gates of the Talbot Estate, their size far less imposing now that he was no longer a child, although there was always something ominous about this property. It was as if there was a darkness surrounding his childhood home, one that only he could ever see, some mystery that he didn’t have all the clues to.

Eddie had to take a moment to simply stare at the estate - at the mansion sat atop a hill, at the surrounding fields losing their color with the arrival of autumn. He smiled fondly to himself despite the intimidating quality that seemed to hang in the air - this was his home and nothing made him happier than being back here.

With a sigh of anticipation, Eddie hiked his bag back up onto his shoulder and forced open one of the gates, stones crunching underfoot as he began to make the short hike up the property and towards the plot of land dedicated to staff housing. As he followed the twists and turns of the driveway, the mansion grew more imposing, Eddie’s gaze jumping from window to window, wondering if someone was watching him or if that was a silly sensation made up in his head.

The staff homes were all small cottages clustered to the northwest of the property - not a terribly far distance from the front gates, but it felt much farther on foot. Eventually, the top of the roofs came into sight, one chimney lazily blowing smoke; Eddie’s steps grew faster, stride longer, as he all but rushed towards the family front steps of his childhood home.

With it being mid-morning,Wayne was nowhere to be found - considering just how much of the property he maintained, mostly on his own, Eddie could guess at least half a dozen places that his uncle may be right now.

So, he deposited his feeble belongings atop the cot that was waiting for him, and approached the Talbot mansion, suddenly feeling a nervous tightening in his chest as he went - would Sir Talbot still frown upon him as if he were trouble just waiting to happen? Would his daughter shun Eddie due to too many years apart? He had to steady himself as he grew closer, taking deep breaths and reminding himself not to overthink as he rang the doorbell - Magda had assured him things would be fun, and that woman never went back on her words.

The butler who answered was a new face to Eddie, which meant he had to explain himself and his presence - he had hoped that perhaps Murray would still be on staff, as it would have been comforting for familiar faces to be greeting him instead. He was half-tempted to ask for Magda purely to help himself relax, but he thought it best to first reacquaint himself with Sir Talbot, considering that he’d be living on the man’s property once again should all go well.

So, introductions aside, the new butler allowed Eddie entry, instructing him to wait in the front hall before disappearing in the direction of Sir Talbot’s office. The mansion hadn’t changed one bit, the art on the walls the same pieces Eddie had seen dozens of times before, the carpet beneath his feet the exact one that he accidentally tracked mud on when he was first learning how to garden. And yet, the familiarity did not stop the drumming of his heart, the anxious little twitch of his hands - ever since that frightening summer day so many years ago, Eddie had never quite looked upon Sir Lawrence Talbot the same way.

Eddie was eventually escorted to the extravagant office, one of the only rooms in the home he hadn’t seen before; the butler announced his arrival, bowed his head, and briskly left the two men alone. Before Sir Talbot sat a stack of papers that he stared at harshly, but it was evident that his mind was elsewhere; nervously, Eddie assumed the man was simply collecting himself before daring to have this inevitable conversation.

When Sir Talbot finally looked over the frame of his glasses, the look in his eyes was nearly startling to Eddie - there was something unspoken in that stare, some kind of secret in the man’s eyes. Talbot’s demeanor became chilly as he studied Eddie closely, his gaze harsh and cutthroat as he looked the younger man up and down in scrutiny.

Growing nervous, Eddie nodded his head in greeting, hoping that his anxieties were written too plainly across his face, “Sir.”

Silently, Talbot looked him over again, assessing the man who he last saw as a boy. When he finally locked his eyes with Eddie’s again, they were coldly unreadable.

“Edward Munson… how you’ve changed.” Sir Talbot finally spoke, his voice still that same strong timber that it used to be. He rose to his feet, removing his glasses with a faint sigh; Eddie was almost dismayed to see that this man was still just as tall as ever, for he’d led himself to believe that Talbot only seemed tall because all those years ago he was an adolescent.

Keeping his shoulders squared and chin high, Eddie kept his eyes on the older man, who rounded his massive oak desk in a slow approach, Eddie suddenly feeling like prey. Once the two men were standing mere feet across from each other, there was a pause, a tense stillness in the air as Eddie held his breath in anticipation.

Wordlessly, Sir Talbot offered his hand - it was not a warm and welcoming gesture, but Eddie knew better than to turn it down. So, Eddie moved to shake the man’s hand, however, Talbot grabbed him by the wrist and turned his palm to face the ceiling; his grip wasn’t rough, but it was certainly insistent. With a confused look, Eddie watched Talbot’s face - the other man’s eyes studied his skin as if he knew palmistry, as if there was some hidden message in the lines of Eddie’s hand.

Talbot’s sharp eyes met Eddie’s abruptly, and the younger hoped that his face conveyed no fear or trepidation. For what felt like an eternity, they stared at one another, Eddie unable to comprehend what could possibly be going on. But a moment later, Sir Talbot nodded as if in confirmation to himself, and finally pressed his palm into Eddie’s for a firm shake.

“Welcome back.” Talbot’s words were far from warm, but he seemed a touch less guarded. Eager to please, Eddie nodded back in thanks as Talbot took back his hand.

“It is good to be back, sir.” Eddie confirmed with a nod, trying to ignore the trepidation he still felt strong as ever. Again, there was something in the man’s gaze that kept Eddie on edge, something that was simply unnerving, “I informed Magda that I’d be returning, although I couldn’t give her a day.”

Talbot nodded while his eyes moved about his office, as if he didn’t want to be looking at Eddie for longer than he had to; there was tension in his shoulders, “I’d heard your return was inevitable.”

Was Talbot always so short with his words? Eddie couldn’t quite remember. Trying to bolster his confidence, Eddie nodded again and took a deep breath, “I’ve come to you first in hopes of offering my services around the estate - I have no intention of living on your land for free, I am no longer a child.”

“No, you certainly aren’t.” Talbot answered in a slow, biting tone that Eddie couldn’t identify. The elder was gazing out the large window, eyes blindly staring out as if in contemplation, hopefully considering Eddie’s offer. When he looked back at the young man, Talbot had a curious expression across his features, “What skills have you acquired while away?”

Eddie swallowed; although he’d been rehearsing this for half the train ride home, it was still so different to be confronted with the actually conversation, to be confronted with the ever imposing man of the house, “I’m knowledgeable in mechanical and electrical devices; I can do any and all hard labor as need be; I’m well acquainted with motor vehicles, both as a driver and as a repairman.”

That last point seemed to catch Talbot’s interest, and so Eddie paused to allow the man to speak, “Motor vehicles? Well, that is a valuable skill.”

Eddie nodded - as motorcars began to grow in popularity these past few years, he’d been more than aware of what opportunities that may offer. Everyone wanted a car, wanted the fun and the luxury of a motor vehicle over a horse and carriage, and so Eddie had decided a couple years back that he would become an expert as best he could, would gain as much knowledge on this new technology as possible.

Talbot continued, “I will not promise you a job, Mr. Munson, however, my own motor car has been troublesome as of late - should you be able to resolve the problem, you have a job here at Talbot Estate.”

Eddie’s expression brightened, although he didn’t want to look too eager - he didn’t want to get his hopes up now that he was offered this challenge. But he gave a quick nod, already thrilling at the prospect of a potential job here at home.

“I’m more than happy to take a look; I can start right now, if you’d like.”

Sir Talbot’s face was once more curious, intrigued to see what Eddie could do, intrigued to see what kind of man he’d become. Talbot’s eyes narrowed slightly in consideration, before he, too, nodded shortly.

“Very well - have Douglas show you to the garage.” Talbot returned to his chair, although he did not yet take a seat, as if he refused to relax until Eddie was out of the room.

“Thank you, sir.” Eddie dipped his head a little, prepared to take his leave.

“And Munson?”

That serious, intimidating tone made Eddie’s heart skip, “Yes, sir?”

Talbot leveled him with a grave look, eyes fierce as they pierced straight into Eddie’s soul, one last domineering show before they parted ways, “Do behave yourself around my daughter. You hear me?”

Nervously, Eddie nodded, swallowing slightly as a cocktail of apprehension and excitement whirled around in his chest at the mention of the Talbot girl, his long lost friend. How much had she changed? How much had she stayed the same? Eddie was oh-so anxious to know, but now was not the time to get roused about it, “Yes, sir.”

Talbot stared for another long, tense moment before giving a small nod of his own, finally lowering back into his stiff leather chair, eyes returning to the paperwork scattered out in front of him as if it took precedence over the man before him, “You may go.”

‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗

Early afternoon and the sun was high, warm in that cozy way that only seemed to happen in late-September once the season changed. It wasn’t the kind of sweltering warmth felt in the summer months, nor was it laced with the hint of approaching winter winds - it was a stillness, as if everything in the world had come to a pause to enjoy the orange sunlight while it would last.

Eddie had been fussing with Talbot’s motor car for over an hour now, tuning up every little thing just to make sure it was in pristine condition - he had to impress the man, after all, and didn’t want to leave a single stone unturned in his work. The vehicle was a virtually brand-new model, as it was undeniably different from those that Eddie had worked on before. Initially, that made him nervous, made him fearful that he wouldn’t have the right tools or knowledge to make any improvements. But once he began poking around at the motor, it was like an intuitive instinct made this new car make sense, and he became lost in his work.

Between the heat and the effort, Eddie’s body was already sticky with sweat; he’d stripped his coat and his vest and his tie, rolled up the sleeves of his white linen shirt, but it was only temporary relief. His hands were covered in grime, and more than once he swiped at his hair or rubbed sweat from his brow only to curse, knowing that trailing his fingers there would be streaks of oil left behind.

As Eddie grumbled to himself, focusing intently as he knelt beside the engine, the sounds of another car driving up the gravel met his ears, and as it drew closer cheerful voices accompanied it. Perhaps the help returning from town, or a visitor joining Talbot for luncheon; regardless, Eddie kept his head down, nearly done with the task he was doing.

The vehicle came to a grinding stop, although the engine continued running, a blend of voices eagerly overlapping one another, laughter harmonizing in a joyous, youthful way that made Eddie furrow his brow. Reaching a good stopping point, he set down his tool and stood, looking out from the open garage door to assess the visitors to the estate; he reached for a rag, already filthy, and attempted to clean his hands in vain.

The driver was a young man accompanied by three women, all of whom appeared near Eddie in age; a realization struck him in that moment, his heart beating faster as his eyes began to dart from face to face, searching for those ever familiar eyes, that ever comforting smile. The group in the car was chaotic, high energy as they made one another laugh, throwing their arms around with hyperactivity as they continued whatever stories and jokes they’d been telling on the drive up. For a moment, the disarray was distracting, but of course, it should have been obvious which of the three women was the one he was searching for--

The woman in the lilac sundress; purple has always been your favorite color, after all.

Eddie took a sharp breath once he finally had the chance to study you; thirteen years felt like it was melting away in an instant as he took in how you’d changed, how you’d stayed the same.

Your hair was still that same lovely color, especially out here in the sunlight. Your smile was still dazzling, bright enough to light up an entire room, especially now that you’d grown into it. Your body language was still as light and carefree as ever, having not lost any of the joyousness of your youth. Although you were one of three women in the vehicle, you radiated in a way that made you the only person Eddie could see;hHe felt his jaw growing slack as he stared, unable to fight the nervous skipping of his heart, the anxious tingling in his limbs.

You were beautiful, and it very nearly took him aback. It was different from the beauty you had in your youth - when Eddie left, you were only ten and he would’ve deemed you as ‘cute.’ For all of your childhood, he’d heard many people exclaim “she’ll be such a vision one day” or “what a gorgeous lady she’ll become,” but at the time he could not have made such bold predictions.

But now you were a woman, a stunning woman who certainly had no right being so damn lovely to look at. Now, Eddie understood what all those people were talking about when you two were just children, because the proof was right here before him in staggering beauty.

Eddie hadn’t realized he was staring until one of your friends finally noticed him within the shade of the garage, drawing the entire group’s attention. And when you set your sparkling eyes on him, he froze, his tongue heavy with nerves and limbs unable to move. You arched a lovely, curious eyebrow, clearly unfamiliar with this man standing in your family’s garage.

As you stood to climb over your friends and out of the vehicle, you curiously eyed this mystery man, wondering if your father had hired more staff or perhaps called for a specialist to deal with his damn car. The man was covered in grease from head to toe, his shoes scuffed and his curly hair becoming unruly from sweat; the buttons of his shirt were undone halfway done his chest, which was heaving from the labor he’d inevitably been hard at doing. Despite the oddness of his attentive staring, you couldn’t help but think that he was certainly an attractive man, whoever the hell he was.

His expression seemed dumbfounded as he stared at you, as if you were some specter that he couldn’t quite make sense of. But there was something about that look that reminded you of someone, that seemed familiar although you couldn’t place why.

Your name being spoken drew your attention, your friends saying their farewells and reminding you about dinner plans you had for tomorrow night; you smiled largely, confirming you wouldn’t forget, as you closed the car door behind you. Billy ripped out of the driveway, just like he always did, far too fond of fast driving and reckless behavior; the speed of the car driving off blew your hair back, the hat securely tied around your neck fluttering in the breeze. Your friends turned in their seats just so they could keep waving goodbye, giggling together as you histrionically waved back for their entertainment.

Once the trio was out of sight - although a dirt cloud was left in their wake - you turned back around, spying the mechanic out of the corner of your eye, seeing the way he sheepishly tried to pretend he hadn’t been staring at you this entire time. It made you smirk just a little, amused by whoever he was, growing yet again curious as to who he could possibly remind you of. Instead of walking to the house, you took leisurely steps towards the open garage, noticing the way the man fumbled with the tool he’d just picked up, which nearly made you giggle.

“Are you here to take that dreaded vehicle off father’s hands?” You questioned with something of a playful tone, clasping your gloved hands behind your back as you continued the stroll up the drive. Amusement flashed across the man’s face as he stared down, aimlessly cleaning the tool with a rag that was filthy; his energy was cautious, and something about that made you want to bring his guard down.

“I couldn’t afford it, miss.” His tone seemed careful as his eyes turned up, mindfully watching your approach. Your lip quirked with curiosity.

“Shame; all week I’ve had to listen to him complain about how burdensome it is.” You came to a pause in the large doorway, studying the man more closely now that you had a better view of him, now that he wasn’t so obscured by shadows.

There was a softness to his features, from the gentle shape of his lips to the curls brushing across his forehead to even the cleanly kept mustache and beard adorning his jaw. His whole aura seemed to radiate with kind easiness, his expressive brows raised with an innocent wonder, as if he was awaiting something in particular.

But those eyes of his, so dark and doe-like, seemed to have an eternal sadness about them, a sadness buried so deep within the bones that it would never quite go away. That struck you as shockingly familiar - those were eyes you’d seen so many times before, eyes you’d known so well once upon a time.

Now, you were the one frozen with surprise, your brow first raising then furrowing, your lips parting slightly with words that never quite came to you. It couldn’t be the boy you once ran through fields with, the boy who always had a story to tell, the boy who had no expectations of you the way the rest of the world had. He was long gone, giving you a rushed and eager farewell as his father insistently tried to drag him away. And yet…

“Eddie?” Your voice came out a soft whisper, his eyes alighting with elation immediately. You saw the exact moment all his trepidation faded away, when his shoulders relaxed and his lips spread into an incredible, gleaming smile. You laughed a little in disbelief, your own face lighting up despite the fact that you still couldn’t quite comprehend it was him; your smile was so wide and fierce across your lips that your cheeks nearly hurt.

Propriety entirely forgotten, you dashed the short distance between you and Eddie, throwing yourself against him so forcefully and quickly enough that he coughed with surprise, your arms winding tightly around his neck as your laughter continued to ring in his ear. For a moment, he didn’t dare move, growing tense against you, as if he was afraid of touching you; but shortly thereafter, he breathed in your scent and snaked his arms around your middle, his palm pressed firmly against your back as he held you close.

“My god, I can’t believe you’re back.” You said gleefully against his ear, pulling back just enough to look at his matured face, your hands coming up to grab his cheeks as you studied him. Your gaze darted with delight over the planes of his face, taking in his familiar eyes, his new beard, the kind smile on his lips; you were practically awestruck at the sight of him, at the sight of how handsome he’d become, “I thought I’d never see you again.”

Eddie’s expression softened as his hands reached up to cup yours, slowly removing them from his sweaty cheeks as if fearful the two of you would be caught like this. He looked between your eyes warmly, the smile now a permanent fixture on his face. His tone seemed nearly apologetic as he answered, “I thought the same.”

You gently wrapped your fingers around his, refusing to let go as you dropped your joined hands between you, “What brought you back?”

Your heart drummed a funny tune in your chest as you continued to gaze upon him, enraptured by the shock of your old friend’s return. Eddie paused to consider his words before answering, dipping his head a little as if sheepish, “I was homesick.”

You smiled at the simple answer, squeezing his hands in yours as a little laugh escaped you, “Oh, don’t tell me you missed this dusty old place; what does it have to offer someone who has surely had so many magnificent adventures?”

Eddie looked back at you as if you were a marvel - even after all this time, you’d held onto your sense of wonder, you continued to crave excitement as if it were the air you breathed. For a moment, it felt like no time had passed at all, as if you were still children sharing tales of the far and wide world that lived inside the depths of your minds. It tugged at Eddie’s heartstrings, a sadness creeping into his thoughts - he had spent so many years away, so many years without sharing stories and relishing in the company of one another. As you stood here with him, hand-in-hand, Eddie felt a deep longing, missing you even as you stared right at him.

“The adventures weren’t nearly as magnificent as you’d like to think.” He answered, to which you pulled a displeased face while waving a hand between you two, as if you were shooing away the words he just said like insects.

“Don’t tell me that. Are you not the same boy who always had a story to tell, whether fact or fiction?” You smiled at him fondly, which prompted him to mirror the expression, unable to resist your charm even now; Eddie figured he’d never quite be able to resist you no matter how hard he tried.

He shook his head with a small laugh, looking down at his feet; he noticed in that moment that he’d gotten oil on your pretty dress, but knowing you, you probably didn’t give a damn, “Don’t worry, I will always entertain you with stories, all you need to do is ask.”

You sighed pleasantly, pulling Eddie back into a quick hug simply because you couldn’t contain the joy you felt, “Is that a promise, Edward Munson?”

“Of course it is, Ms. Talbot.”

Your heart skipped a beat, a pleasant shiver running up your spine; those pesky feelings that had only started to blossom in your youth were already daring to come back, despite the years apart. You tried not to fall victim to folly, and yet the yearning you once had for the groundskeeper’s boy was coming back with even greater conviction, the flame fanned by the excitement of your unexpected reunion.

And it certainly didn’t help that little Eddie had grown up to be a handsome man, so easy on the eyes that you were already convinced you could stare at him for hours if he’d let you. Hell, you could probably spend days admiring that face without ever growing bored of him.

Your cheeks warmed as a yearning look passed between the two of you, and so you dropped your gaze while taking a step back, meandering around the garage as a means to calm yourself down, to hide the attraction you were oh-so clearly feeling towards him, “Tell me about your travels - tell me about all the places you’ve been.”

As you walked with grace and ease, your moves were almost hypnotic; Eddie cringed at the perfect greasy handprint he’d left on the small of your back, at the swipe of grime that was transferred from his cheek to yours - how he hoped that your father wouldn’t see you like this, or else Eddie would be fresh out of luck in gaining a job here at the estate.

You perched upon a large wooden work bench, fussing with your skirts as they twisted around your feet; you both spotted another spill of oil on the lilac fabric, but you simply made an unconcerned face at it before dropping the folds of fabric from your hands. You directed your attention back to Eddie, raising your brows expectantly as an easy smile graced your lips.

Eddie licked his lips with a grin, shaking his head pleasantly while attempting to focus on all the work still to be done on the car, “I’ve been many places, though none appropriate for a woman like you.”

You scoffed with an amused eye roll, “And when have I ever been held back by what is and is not appropriate for me?”

Eddie faintly laughed, “You never have and you never will.”

You leaned forward while resting your hands atop your knees, a wicked look on your face, “And don’t you ever forget it.”

Sharing a familiar laugh, Eddie began to regale you with tales of getting arrested in New York City and Boston, of stirring up trouble in Virginia and Tennessee. His ability for storytelling had only sharpened after so many years, and you found yourself mesmerized by his way with words, the way his body language always complimented the stories he told.

He spoke of robberies and bar fights, of friends made and friends lost along the way; you were not inclined to believe all the words that left his mouth, but the two of you had always preferred the thrills of a good story to the facts of a boring life. It was like a silent agreement between you two to make a tale interesting, even if that required embellishment.

It was so easy to be with Eddie again, so easy to sit and listen to him talk, to laugh alongside him and share wicked smiles. How could thirteen years have come and gone when this moment felt timeless, as if you were once more four or six or eight years old, hanging onto every single word that left Eddie’s mouth?

He was striking to you, utterly remarkable, the way his stories came to him with such ease even as he fussed with car parts that just wouldn’t work. The way he’d look to you just to see your reaction following a particularly harrowing plot twist made you squirm; the way his grin would spread from ear-to-ear at the sound of your laughter made your cheeks flush with warmth.

Your innocent childhood together was felt heavily as you listened to Eddie’s tales - memories of climbing trees and splashing in puddles ever so vibrant behind your mind’s eyes. There was an anxious thrill in your chest that made this different, however, a swirling sensation in your stomach reminding you that things had changed even as they stayed the same. Each smile Eddie shot you was nearly breathtaking, each cheeky wink like a piercing arrow in your heart. You knew better than to let yourself become excited by him like this, and yet it couldn’t be helped, the fire had started burning the moment you laid eyes upon each other.

Even as you listened and laughed attentively, you tried to tell yourself that this was simply your childhood crush briefly reigniting, that the excitement would die down soon enough and you would simply see each other as friends from the distant past. You knew how your love of stories could tint the way you viewed the world, how the romance novels stacked around your room had always given you a longing for a love like fiction. You couldn’t allow those desires to trick you now, but you couldn’t resist, your entire being reacting to something so simple as Eddie smiling at you with all the softness in the world.

Time had gotten away from you as you sat there enchanted by his stories, and once he’d finally completed his work on that damned motor car, you were surprised by just how much the sun’s position had changed in the sky. You and Eddie shared a look of disbelief as he tidied the tools and put everything back in its place, the both of you clearly having been trapped within a bubble where time didn’t exist. You hopped up eagerly from your seat, exiting the garage alongside Eddie as he looked up at the manor with hesitation.

You grabbed his hand again, to which he met your eyes attentively; You grinned from ear-to-ear, just like you did as a child when you decided the day was still young and there was so much more to be explored, “Walk with me? I’ll show you all the changes your uncle has made to the gardens, they’re magnificent.”

Eddie smiled sadly, which caused you to falter slightly; had you misread something about the past couple of hours? Despite every fiber of his being wanting to cave to your each and every whim, he knew better. He gave a small shake of his head while glancing at your home once more, “I must speak with your father - I can only stay should my work on the car be sufficient. And he’s asked me to… behave myself around you.”

You frowned, your lips forming a beautiful pout as your brows turned down. You were reminded that you were adults now, that neither of you had the freedoms of children. You knew you had to let Eddie go, but how you wished you could simply drag him away to hide in the hedge maze or the woods until all responsibilities and expectations faded away.

Righting your expression, you sighed and nodded with acceptance, locking your eyes firmly with his, “Tonight then. After supper, meet me in the gardens.”

It was a plea, even as you spoke as if it were a command. Eddie inhaled sharply, excited by the suggestion but also terrified that the two of you might be found out - your childhood innocence was gone, and it could cause trouble for you to be found together like that. But that look in your eyes, so fiercely determined, made it impossible for him to deny you; Eddie already knew that, even now, he could never deny you.

“Tonight.” He whispered with a nod, causing you to smile wide. Eagerly, you placed a kiss on the palm of your hand, then pressed it longingly to Eddie’s cheek, causing his eyes to nearly flutter shut; he leaned into the touch with such reverie that it made your heart swell.

“Now go, distract my father so he won’t see me like this.” You instructed with reference to your dress that he had dirtied. Eddie laughed smally with one more nod, stepping away from you as if it were burdensome to do so; he began to round the manor back towards the front doors, pausing once to shoot you a playful look before disappearing beyond a corner.

You waited another few moments before scurrying off towards the kitchen entrance, hoping that Magda could somehow get these grease stains out of your favorite dress.

.

.

[PART TWO] | [MASTERLIST]

addt. A.N | The taglist is open for anyone interested in being notified about updates! I can't wait to hear what everyone thinks of this first chapter ♥

taglist | @ali-r3n @chaoticgood-munson @chaptersleftunwritten @daisy-munson @duncanhillscoffeecups

@eddiernunson @ilovetaquitosmmmm @jasminelafleur @lavendermunson @littlexdeaths

@marlena-marlena @mmmunson @skrzydlak @tenthmoon

[cy-lindric]

bonjour cy-lindric, j'ai une petite question. when I was a young person, I read The Three Musketeers and then eagerly started to read Twenty Years After and was so upset at what had happened to my beloved young heroes that I put the book down and never picked it up. what do you think, should I try again?

Bonjour !

After reading The Three Musketeers, I also wasn't sure I wanted to read Twenty Years After, and I took a break inbetween both to read something entirely different (The Locked Tomb, iirc). I think my reason for that was kind of the opposite of yours ; I enjoyed T3M a lot and loved the characters, flaws and all, but by the end they had somewhat crossed over the line into being Too Awful and the lack of retribution left me a bit frustrated. I didn't see it as a failing of the story - on the contrary, their strong character flaws and downfall in the conflict with Milady is one of the most emotionally intense and compelling parts imo - but I wasn't sure I felt like hanging out with these guys for a few hundred more pages at that point.

If your vision of the characters as a young reader was a very positive and perhaps idealized one, I can imagine why you might not have enjoyed entering into Twenty Years after. The illusion of glory has worn off ; the characters have separated, they live unremarkable lives, and their personalities have evolved drastically with the passing of time. It's almost a brutal return to reality.

For me though, it added layers of characterization to the point where now it's clear to me that this version of the Inseparables is by far the one I prefer.

I hope it's ok if I take the opportunity to talk at length about what I like about TYA below the cut. TL;DR : I love that Twenty Years After is a more realistic look at the big four's personalities and how they evolved while still keeping them thematically coherent, and that TYA makes them confront the reckless and cruel shit they did in their youth.

Spoilers ahead obviously.

We've often talked about how T3M is at its core a story about the end of knighthood. It's a tongue-in-cheek approach at chivalrous initiation, set at edge of the modern world, inbetween the time of ballads about knights in armor and that of adventures about journeying gunmen and soldiers. I think TYA embodies that particularly ; the story of people who have carried the last of these intense, dangerous chivalric ideals in their youths, and who have now grown into middle aged adults who need to find their place in the world.

For a good chunk of the book, the big four are separated into two teams ; that in of itself might discourage some, but imo it's genius. Instead of the natural two-by-pairings, Dumas goes for a d'Artagnan+ Porthos and Athos + Aramis split on opposite sides, which makes for good drama and develops lesser explored dynamics. D'Artagnan and Porthos form a scrappy team of opportunists with money on their minds, and Athos and Aramis a more idealistic duo fighting for a noble lost cause. I think it's a bold choice but also premium sequel writing.

I also love the way the young and wild characters we knew evolve into middle aged men ; at their core, they're still the same, but they've all changed and struggled against the sunset of the golden age in their own ways.

D'Artagnan, after knowing such adventures and subsequent rapid social ascension in his teenage years, has been met in his adult life with the harsh reality that he is, in fact, not a noble knight but a soldier on payroll. His modest origins give him little hope for any further career advancement, and he takes on a new mission in his early 40s for a man he has no devotion for and a cause he doesn't care about, simply because he is bored and broke. D'Artagnan still has his quick wits, his strategic talent, his fencing skills, but he has grown out of the excesses of pride of his teenage years. I loved meeting him again in TYA, and it made so much sense to me that his bouts of anger and aggressivity would be a youthful trait that he'd ended up taming. He also realizes now a lot of what seemed like funny adventures and necessary violence was actually kind of fucked up ; that was a shock to me, as their shenanigans are treated so lightly in T3M, and tbh it healed me a little. Grown up d'Artagnan is cunning, calculating, down to earth and realistic. My foxy little man. I love him.

Porthos, likewise, has been struck by the weight of reality. He has made the sensible choice and got married to the rich widow who sugar mommied him in the first book. Now she's passed, he is rich, but he still fails to earn the respect of the high society he evolves in because he's not high born enough. Like d'Artagnan, he's stagnating and bored and now that he goes back adventuring it has nothing to do with the queen or the kingdom or honour ; it's about getting his damn nobility title.

Athos, on the other hand, is the eternal knight : the only truly high born of the four, and still hopelessly holding on to a time gone by. It's no surprise imo that his storyline brings him into the english civil war, doomed to fail at saving a king who'll end up executed right in front of him. TYA acknowledges more clearly than ever that at 28 yo, Athos was a depressed alcoholic, and an embodiment of what an excess of aristocratic righteousness can do. In TYA, he is sober and moisturized and a DILF, and now he's running around frantically looking for absolution for his numerous crimes. It's delicious.

Aramis is maybe the hardest pill to swallow. TYA confirms the T3M hints that he isn't really the prim and proper romantic boy he acts like he is, and that he's possibly the most hypocritical and ruthless of the four. It might be a harsh one for Aramis fans who like him better as a cute bean, but I love the early onset of remorseless conniving bloodthirsty ambitious Aramis. Another harsh bit might be the evolution of Aramis and d'Artagnan not really liking each other ; they were always the least close combination, and imo it makes sense that their personalities would clash. I think it's clever and compelling conflict.

Now, obviously, if you've cared enough to read all this and if you know me a little, you know that a huge highlight of the book for me was its late-appearing antagonist, Mordaunt. Mordaunt is the son Milady had with her english husband. Because of the Musketeers' intervention, he's grown up in poverty and has been denied his father's inheritance. He's now a Roundhead working for Cromwell, and set on avenging his mother at all costs. Mordaunt, unlike his mother who was this beautiful and dangerous force of nature, is very uncool and pathetic. She was the primordial snake, he's the gutter rat. Obviously, I love that in and of itself, but it's also kind of striking image of the wretchedness of what they've done to her, a fucked up little goblin ghost come back to haunt them as they're trying to make their life worth living again. This time, their enemy is not a cunning political rival with a flamboyance of body and mind akin to their own ; it's a shitty little guy with bad skin who wants to kill the king and punish the murderers. Watch out babes, it's the modern world coming for you.

Of course, they're the Four Musketeers, and they did what they had to do, so they get together again and swear friendship and keep going their way. But they're also old guys with difficult personalities in a world that's never going to be the same. I think it's a cool book.

[muddyorbsblr]

timeless

See my full list of works here!

Summary: While doing some research to help out Mobius on a 'moonshot project', you and Loki come across a startling revelation about your lives. All your lives.

Pairing: TVA!Loki x TVA!Reader

Word Count: 3.5

Warnings: some talks of smutty times, but overall this is just fluff [let me know if i missed something!]

Things to be aware of: established relationship, talks of soulmates, references to my other stories

"I really don't get why you're in here bugging me for something to do, Y/N," Agent Mobius chuckled, shaking his head as he thumbed through another folder's worth of records that he hadn't told you quite yet what they were for. "No high-level variant threats have been reported, timelines are--well, they're relatively stable. Things are quiet for a change. I say enjoy it while it lasts and go on a vacation or something with Laufeyson. Just don't--"

"Don't cause any Nexus events, yes yes, Mobius, we know." A smile broke out on your face at the sound of Loki's voice cutting off the TVA Agent, your cheeks nearly aching from your grin widening when he walked up behind you and long arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you close. "Thing is we already have partaken in quite a handful of adventures across the timelines, indulging ourselves in the…numerous pleasures and luxuries that they have to offer."

One look at how you were reddening with the implications of your boyfriend's words had your fellow Agent scrunching up his face in feigned appalment. "Time and place, you two, jeez."

You and Loki shared a confused look when an analyst from another table yelled "And you did it at my birthday dinner!" and rendered Mobius into a cackling heap, laughing into his sleeve to muffle the sound.

"Anyway…" you spoke up, making the grey-haired agent look back up at you. "Are you sure there isn't anything we can help with? Doesn't even have to be high-level, I'll literally take up a timeline reset caused by a woman at a grocery store grabbing a can of peaches instead of a can of mangoes, I'm getting antsy here."

"Alright alright fine," he sighed, motioning toward you and the god behind you. "It's something of a moonshot but we've been trying to find proof of the existence of soulmates throughout the timelines, so we need concrete cases that no matter the circumstance, no matter the obstructions between two souls, they always find each other and they always end up together."

"You mean like in that TV show where they've got fairytale characters in like Maine or something and there's this couple that constantly goes--"

"I'll find you, I will always find you," you and Mobius said at once, causing you both to break out into laughter.

"Exactly like that," he confirmed when he calmed down some. "Preferably without the cheesy catchphrase because in case you do find one I would actually prefer to not include in my report that all soulmates have some line they tell each other that's so cheesy it's pungent."

"Right so…soulmates, no cheesy lines, across the timelines. Got it." You gave him a little salute before you went off to the shelves, holding Loki's hand as he followed a few steps behind you.

"Darling we have been scouring through files for hours. Perhaps it's time to report back to Mobius. Tell him that every pair we've found so far have broken the pattern at some iteration down the line. The most we've come across is a pair that were together for five iterations of their lives before the sixth showed they never even met in that lifetime."

Your shoulders slumped over when you placed your latest folder on your pile, of failed attempts, just about  half the size of Loki's own little mountain of case files. Maybe he was right; every possible lead you'd found all ended up a dud, and that alone would be proof enough that this was all a wild goose chase of an assignment for Mobius.

Then again, he did call it a moonshot, so the realization didn't smart too much.

The frustration you felt began to melt away the moment Loki's hands touched your shoulders, leaning into him when he started working at the knots that he found with expert precision. "Okay, you're right," you sighed. "Let's go tell Cubey his moonshot's a single needle in a city of haystacks."

He placed a kiss to the top of your head, using his seiðr to stack the case files into neat stacks arranged by file number. "Thank the Norns that ridiculous magic dampener fractured some when the timelines diverged," he mumbled, chuckling into your hair. "Now how about I bring us to a nice hot spring and we could simply…enjoy one another's company?" You let out a giggle when his hands traveled down your sides, lightly grasping your waist and pulling you against him.

If only you could have silenced the little voice in your head when you were just seconds away from him whisking you off to Jökulsárlón or Hakone, clad in a dark emerald bikini that your lover would peel off of you as he made good on his promise for you both to enjoy each other's company.

"I can nearly hear the thoughts forming in your mind, darling," he cooed, pressing his lips to the back of your neck, chuckling against your skin when you wordlessly confirmed what he'd said by slumping over again. "What is it?"

"Just one last try?" You wouldn't ever let yourself live it down if you'd gone down this road and not looked at this particular set of files.

He let out a sigh, his slightly cool breath tickling your skin before pressing a tender kiss to the back of your head. "One last attempt. And if we reach another dead end--"

"You can whisk me away to any destination of your choice and have your wicked way with me," you finished for him, letting out a little yelp when he brought his lips to the spot between your neck and shoulder, playfully nipping at the skin.

"What a deliciously reckless promise, my love," he teased, smirking against your neck when he proceeded to lightly suck at the sensitive skin and you had to bite your lip to muffle the whimper that slipped through your lips. "I look forward to collecting on it in a short while."

He rested his chin on your shoulder, still holding you close when you called out for a bit of assistance on your final hunch. "Minutes?"

Your eyes squinted to adjust to the sudden brightness when the orange hologram appeared on the desk in front of you. "Well hello there, lovebirds. What can I do for y'all?" she asked with a small wave of her cartoonish stick arm.

"Could you pull up our files?"

"Well sure I can, Y/N! How much of your files are we talking here?"

You shared a look with Loki before you answered, "All of them?"

"Before I hand 'em over, I think it's best y'all know from the get go that you're about to deal with thousands of files. It'll take a whole lotta time before you can sort 'em all out," she cautioned you both, already giving you a digital visual of how many files she'd already begun to pull up.

"Minutes, as I've come to understand it, we variants apparently have all the time in the world," you countered, shrugging your free shoulder and giving the living hologram a little smile. "We can take it."

"Alright well suit yourself," she comically shrugged both her hands before making the files that were already on the table disperse and go back to their original locations throughout the library shelves before stacks upon stacks of folders materialized in their place. All of them sectioned off into two sides. "Have at it, y'all."

You picked up the first folder from the stack closest to you, your brows knitting together already once you read the name on the file. "Minutes, I don't think this is mine, it says Eve but that's not--"

"Your name?" she finished for you. "Darlin', Y/N is your name in this lifetime--Well, the lifetime you came from before your Nexus event, you get what I mean. The file you're holding is from another lifetime, heck, might even be from another timeline. But one look at that file and you'll see that that's you. All of these are you. Doesn't matter if you're goin' by a different name, the soul remains the same."

The air left your lungs when you opened the folder to find a picture of you with pale skin and matted ivory hair on the front of the file. Only thing was that this version of you wasn't quite human in her lifetime. In fact centuries of it were spent as a vampire.

A few moments later she spoke up again. "Well then that's my cue. Happy sortin', y'all!" And then she disappeared. Leaving you and Loki alone with your couple thousand files each to rifle through.

Had you been there on a different objective, you would have spent a bit more time thumbing through the pages that detailed the life of this version of you, rubbing elbows with numerous prominent figures throughout history and having her fair share of trysts with a handful of them. But your only focus was her most prominent affair. Her great love.

When you reached that page, you felt yourself go breathless once again looking at the picture that stared back at you. "Loki," you breathed out, holding out the file to him so he could see for himself. The god's eyes widened at the photo in front of him. The ebony hair may be matted and the skin somehow even paler than his usual complexion, but there was no denying it. This Eve's companion throughout her years, this Adam, was another lifetime's iteration of Loki.

He began to rifle through his own stacks of folders, finding the one that had the same variant number and interlocked his and your folders together, starting a new stack at the center of the desk. "If you're right, and this yields the moonshot result that Mobius has been searching for, you can pick the destination and have your wicked way with me."

"Why Mischief, how reckless of you," you said coyly, batting your eyelashes at him. "What if I wanna tie you up?"

"It's endearing that you believe you could, my darling." He lightly poked your side, quickly pulling you into his arms the second you started wriggling and giggling in his direction. "But if that is truly what you want then I can promise not to break out for an hour."

"Two," you countered.

"Ninety minutes."

"Deal."

"Now if I'm right and this leads to another dead end, I whisk you away to any destination of my choosing for a fortnight, no tempads, no missions, and not a stitch of clothing on this glorious form of yours." His lips skimmed the side of your face, pressing a kiss to your cheek when you let out a squeal at his finger deftly undoing the top button of your shirt. "Do we have a deal, my love?"

"Okay okay," you relented, turning your head to steal a quick kiss before bring your attention back to the folders you were about to sort through. Before you could pull away, his free hand went up to the back of your head and deepened the kiss.

"What if I told you I've been plagued with visions of stripping you bare and laying you out on the desk before me? That I'd been thinking of enjoying every delectable inch of you as if you were my own personal dessert board?" You let out a gasp at the lustful image his words had conjured in your mind, allowing him to easily lick into your mouth and turn you into putty in his arms the moment your tongues met.

"I'd say I'm not surprised," you breathed out when he pulled away, placing your hand over his before he could undo a third button from your shirt. "But the faster we get this done, the faster oneof us will be at the other's mercy and maybe you can even bring that desk fantasy of yours to life." You pressed another quick peck to his lips before managing to wriggle your way out of his embrace, jutting your chin at his side of the desk. "Pick a file, Mischief."

The next file had you and him initially on opposite sides of the Battle of New York, your story starting in Stuttgart when he had clones force you down on your knees and the injuries from that encounter permanently damaging you. A handful of times throughout the day of the actual battle, he went out of his way to save your life, ensuring your safety from a fatal fall and even the Hulk; the document even had a mention of him asking Thor of what came of you after he was apprehended because you weren't among the Avengers that saw him off to Asgard, only to find out the true extent of your injuries. Then he found himself back on Earth to serve his sentence and falling in love with you, using his magic to undo the physical damage that he dealt you. And then you two went on your own adventure to have 'do-overs' in places that held bitter memories for him, from Stuttgart to Asgard and even the balcony in Stark Tower.

Another file saw Loki as an English baronet named Thomas Sharpe, and you as his final wife and a sort of partner in crime. Initially you teamed up to play a dangerous game of sneaking around his ancestral home to gather and send out evidence that would put his incestuous and murderous sister Lucille behind bars, and somewhere along the way you two had genuinely fallen in love with one another.

You then found a good handful of scenarios where you both lived in the Avengers Compound, having a bad case of mutual pining and both of you being too hesitant and overcome with doubt that neither of you made a move until the situation practically forced you to confess. One even involved you photographing him for an Avengers calendar where he stripped for you during his session.

"Yeah, this definitely sounds like you," you joked when you showed him one of the pictures from the photoshoot in question where he laid on his side on a white bed wearing nothing but a pair of white boxers. When you opened the next file, you let out a whiny groan out of sheer frustration and disappointment.

"Darling, that is a sound I only wish to hear when I elicit it from you. What's wrong?"

"Might as well just lie down on the table right now because there's no way this isn't a dead end." You waved the file in your hand in the air.

"Much as I would thoroughly enjoy claiming this particular prize, perhaps we need not be so hasty, my love. Tell me what would be such a hindrance that you'd be ready to give up your theory--"

"Place of Birth: Asgard," you read out, cutting him off. "Born to Lady Sif of the Warriors Four--"

"Alright well Sif would surely have some choice words with me if I courted you but--"

"And the Crown Prince Thor, God of Thunder." You gave him a look as if to say "This is why", the realization dawning on him as well that yes, this would be the dead end that would grant him his victory. And yet for some reason, you decided to keep on turning the pages. "Gotta be honest, though, I thought that what would break our streak is if we never met in these--Oh what in the Game of Thrones Targaryen nonsense is this??"

"What is it?"

"The streak isn't broken yet," you croaked out, the disbelief entering his eyes as he frantically started searching for his corresponding variant file. "We were married for two and a half thousand years."

"I surrendered my claim to the throne of Asgard for you," he declared in astonishment. "We have children in this timeline." His voice began to hitch at the end, making you immediately close the distance between you to lace your fingers together.

"Looks like even something as monumental as being your brother's daughter couldn't stop us," you noted with a little smile, breaking out into a full grin when your comment made Loki exhaled in a rather loud chuckle that traveled across the library. You took your two folders and interlocked them, adding to the pile in the center. "Let's keep going."

It was several hours later that you two had finally found your way back to the desk that Mobius occupied, the more tenured agent pinching the bridge of his nose and rubbing at the inner corners of his eyes in clear frustration.

"You still got nothing, Cubey?"

"One of these days I'm gonna find a name for you that's just as annoying, Y/L/N, just you wait," he groaned, his posture visibly slumping when he saw the interlocked stacks of folders that you were carting around. "What in the name of the Alioth is that?"

"We found one," you proudly stated. "Proof that soulmates exist and…only some of them have a catchphrase."

"That's just one?!" he boomed, immediately getting shh'd by a more elderly analyst a few tables behind him to which you and Loki shh'd her right back without missing a beat. You nodded your answer to Mobius. "So what's the catchphrase?"

"I was made to be yours," you began, letting go of the cart to hold your hand out to Loki.

"And I yours," he finished, lacing your fingers together before draping his arm over your shoulder and pulling you closer to him.

"Wait a damn minute," Mobius said suspiciously, pointing a finger between the two of you. "Are you two trying to tell me that the first and so far only case of soulmates we have on record is--"

"Us," you finished for him, nudging the cart in his direction with your foot. "Every single lifetime on every single timeline accounted for."

"What about your own?" he questioned. "You both mentioned that you'd never met your timeline's version of each other prior to your Nexus events."

"Well see that's the thing. These files only cover everything prior to a variant's Nexus event, or what the events were in their own respective sacred timelines. We met each other after our Nexus events. So maybe our souls never found each other in the lives that we left behind because…we were meant to find each other here."

"Huh…" he mused, looking carefully at the two of you. "Could be. Nice catch, you two. I knew I made a good call giving you a partner, Loki."

"My darling mortal is quite brilliant," your lover beamed, pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head. "I believe I owe you a debt of gratitude for our introduction."

"Well, you really don't have to but if you feel so compelled, I'm willing to take a jet ski and a vacation to Miami if you two can swing it."

"We'll call you if anything serious pops up, just keep your tempad charged," you shot back, extending your free hand toward him to shake. "But really, Cubey. Thank you. For introducing us. For vouching for me and making sure that I didn't get pruned during my trial with Rennslayer--"

"Otherwise you might have crossed paths with that one-handed variant in the Void and who knows what nefarious and depraved intentions he would have had with you," Loki interjected, resting his head on yours.

"You have a Captain Hook variant?"

"Nah it was a president," Mobius answered with a wave of his hand. "Got his hand bit off by an alligator."

"So…a Captain Hook variant."

"Yeah, you know what you're right. Loki has a Captain Hook variant. You'll meet him soon enough when you get sent on a mission to the Void. Loads of highly dangerous variants usually find themselves there when they try to escape processing."

"If he even dares touch you I'll divest him of his remaining hand," Loki grumbled, once again pressing his lips to your temple. "That heathen can find his own variant of you. You're mine."

"All yours," you beamed, bringing your joint hands to your lips to press a kiss to his knuckles. "And speaking of…we're off for a few weeks, Cubey. We have a date to get to."

"Please don't get arrested for indecent exposure. Or public fornication," the senior agent groaned. "That's a timeline I'll need therapy for if I have to be the sorry ass to reset it."

Neither of you responded other than a little wave and a thumbs up in his direction as you walked away, the god giving you a dimpled smirk as you two made your way to your shared apartment.

"Where shall we head to first, little mortal? A hot spring? Or perhaps a nice scenic tundra? Or perhaps a cherry blossom forest? I can already picture your beauty with the backdrop of the falling petals…"

He stopped listing options when he saw you shaking your head, mirroring his smirk with one of your own. "Bedroom first. And give me your tie. You owe me ninety minutes."

A/N: I'm so glad to finally get this out for y'all to see! This was originally supposed to up weeks ago for something but some of my own revelations were made (translation: I got bitch slapped in the face by reality) which led to the postponing of this story. Anyways, I hope y'all liked it even if it is kinda cringe and silly. I'm always gonna be cringe and silly, so manage expectations accordingly. 🥴🫡

Also if you got all the references within the files (except the OLLA one that's a freebie) I officially love you. 💖💛

'everything' taglist: @sailorholly @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @evelyn-kingsley @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th  @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @anukulee @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog

[howlingday]

the arc family have a unique tradition, they forge their own swords every time another of their sons reaches the age to begin training, but infuse these weapons with the spirit of said son. this creates a spirit weapon that can grow with the affore mentioned son and help them on their journey. thing is, both jaune and his sword Lucerna Intrepidus are huge dorks who have taken to wandering around vale fighting grimm to try and kick off a grand adventure so they can be heroes. with jaune's dear companion lucy growing stronger with every grimm she devours she's quickly out stripped the 12 year old in strength if only there was someplace she could go with her young partner to make them both stronger and better at fighting! summer has been retired since her run in with salem basically crippled her while her eyes remain in tact the horrors she and raven went through (mainly her since raven only showed back up at the last minute to save her) shattered her soul in ways she's only just starting to recover from. but training ruby and yang has been a fun hobby it's a shame they're going to be entering the combat school, she's got ruby for two more years and yang will still be there to train after school but it's going to be boring during the days without them. if only there was some young impressionable child she could take as an apprentice! papa arc was going to give jaune such a spanking when he found the boy, he seemed to be always just one step behind him! at least his new sword was keeping him alive after he ran off from home into the wilds to be a hero. where could he have gotten to? a story in which everyone keeps missing the plot, or rather everyone is in a different genre of story and the plot keeps switching. tldr: jaune is being trained by a retired summer and is having an action adventure. summer is going through slice of life and papa arc is handling a mystery comedy looking for his lost son who he always seems to just miss seeing only the after math of his actions and having to fix the issues spawned from it.

"Lucie~! Wait uuup~!"

Jaune Arc, a young boy off on an adventure far away from his home, followed the instinctual pull of his sword and companion, Lucierna Intrepidus! Or, as Jaune referred to her, Lucie. She was a marvelous blade, forged with the spirit of Jaune imbued into her core... located exactly on her pommel. She shone a brilliant aqua blue to match her partner's eyes.

"No way!" She called out. "We've only just started! You can't expect us to be heroes by killing just a few rats, can you?"

"N-No, but we never killed anything bigger than a rat." Jaune reasoned as he his feet were nearly dragged.

"So? This is our moment!" The sword raised itself high. "Think of it! Lucierna Intrepidus, the mighty sword held aloft by Jaune Arc, the greatest sword and swordmaster of all time~!"

"Well, maybe some day, but I'm only 12. I still need to go to school and-"

"Forget school! We need a mentor! And until we find one..." A sudden shift to the left knocked Jaune off his feet and sent him rolling down the hill. "Adventure will teach us what to do!"

"Lucie, you're being.... being..."

Not far from where Jaune landed was a Grimm. And not just any Grimm, but a Beowolf. Next to the Ursa, it was the second-biggest Grimm to wander these woods. It's blood-red eyes seemed to catch ablaze at the sight of the young hero. The young hero who was shaking in his boots.

"Uh..."

"S-See?" Lucie said, her voice also quivering. "Adventure's, uh, just ahead of us..." Steeling her nerves, if she had any, she began barking orders to Jaune. "Dueling stance! Sword up! Sword out! Ready to fight!"

Jaune, having been drilled for the past few months by both his sword and his father, snapped into position with his blade set between himself and the black beast stalking towards him with massive jaw wide open.

"Y-Yup! That's it! Now step forward!" Jaune froze. "Hey! Don't embarrass me in our first real fight!" The boy was shoved off-balance by his sword, making him stumble and fall. As he looked up, he saw the monster set upon him. He covered his head with Lucie. "JAUNE!"

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

"Kids! Suppertime~!"

Ruby, Yang, and Jaune ran as fast as they could to the dining room. Before they could be told to do so, they set their training weapons upon their respective racks, then went into the bathroom to wash their hands. The three then took their seats at the dinner table, where Taiyang was already setting down the side dishes.

"Do you want roast beef, Yang?" Summer asked.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah~!" The blonde girl practically vibrated in her seat.

"What do you say, Yang?" Taiyang raised his brow.

"Roast! Beef! Roast! Beef~!" Yang chanted, tapping her fork and knife on the table.

"Yang!"

"Roast! Beef! Roast! Beef!" Ruby joined in, chanting with her sister and pounding her tableware in unison.

"Um, I would like roast beef, Mr. Xiao Long." Jaune said timidly. For his politeness, he was rewarded with the thickest (for a child) slab of roast beef placed squarely on his plate, earning whines from the two girls. "And may I have green beans and carrots, too?"

Summer giggled as her girls watched in astonishment as their own father chose her apprentice over them. While they stared, she prepared plates for them before making her own. Taiyang did the same for Jaune before sitting down.

"So, did you kids play anything fun today?" The huntress asked.

"We played hide and seek!" Ruby chirped.

"Jaune cheated." Yang huffed. "He used his sword to peek on us!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Alright, enough!" Taiyang barked. "There will be no fighting at this table. Now, I want you kids to sit there and eat your food quietly." If there were to be any grumblings, they quickly died when Tai gave them the ol' Blue Eye Bane, a glare so chilling that it made you behave real quick!

"Jaune, I was speaking to your mother today." Summer said after slicing her roast beef into little squares. "She's wondering if you're ready for your first day at Signal tomorrow with Ruby."

"Um... I think so..." Jaune answered, unsure if he really was.

"Oh, you will be!" Taiyang said with a smile. "After all, you've had plenty of Tai-me to get ready!" The blond man and his daughter shared a giggle while his wife and her daughter gave a groan. Jaune just looked confused.

"It's okay to be nervous, Jaune." Summer said. "Being nervous just means something is new to you and you don't know what the best way to go forward is. In the end, though, it always come down to one answer."

"Go forward?" Jaune guessed.

"Exactly!" Summer took a bite of her cutlet of roast beef. "Mm~! You've really outdone yourself tonight, dear!"

"Thanks, honey!" Taiyang smiled. "I'd say this beef is better than the roast~!"

"Tai, please..."

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

"Oh, please, be here somewhere..."

Nicholas Arc wandered into the quaint, little farming town, hoping to find some clue as to where his son ran off to this time. This was, by and far, the furthest from home Jaune had ever been. It had been almost a week since he left home on the hunt for him, doing his best to not panic at the prospect that his progeny was perforated, pulverized, or otherwise pulled apart by some predacious pests or worse, some kind of putrid pervert.

"No!" He shook his head. He had to stay focused. He had to find his son, and he could only do that with a clear head. And what better way to get a clear head than with coffee?

He entered the convenience store, a chime and a woman about his age greeting him. He greeted her back and headed to the coffee machine. Waiting for his cup to fill, he looked to the lottery tickets. Inside the glass, from and center, was a rabbit with a cute smile and a flower by their ear. The flower's petals were colored in on every other across from each other.

"Pumpkin Patty..." From the Pumpkin Pete Pumpkin Patch Pals Show that his girls loved to watch. And Jaune. In fact, Jaune was especially enamored with the girl rabbit, so much so that he drew her face with that same flower every chance he got-

"MA'AM!" The woman flinched. He pointed to the lottery box. "WHOSE RABBIT DRAWING IS THAT?!"

She looked to the drawing. "Some kid?"

"Was it a boy?!" Nicholas asked, finally pulling himself back if only just for a moment. "Was it a boy who drew that picture?!"

"Sir, I need you to calm down." She waved her hands to the counter. "He just wanted to draw on something while his teacher was waiting for the donuts."

"Teacher?! What teacher?!"

"Some woman in a white robe." She shrugged.

Nicholas would recognize that description anywhere! The White Reaper! The Angel of Death! He thought she'd retired years ago! But now, there was no mistaking it! His son was abducted by...

"SUMMEEER ROOOOOOOOOOOSE!"

The woman looked outside the convenience store to the screaming man. "Sir, you need to pay for that coffee."

[clemblog]

Caine’s Lesson - Part 7

•

Gummigoo wasn't kidding when he said his Ma's food was good. Caine's food from that one evening after the gloinks couldn't compare. It was full of so much more flavour and taste.

"Penny for your thoughts, Poms?" Grinned Gummigoo, coming to sit across from her with his own bowl.

"You weren't kidding when you said it was good-" Mused Pomni, sheepishly.

He chuckled at such.

"We don't lie round these parts Poms, you'll learn that quick if you stick with us."

"I-It'll be fun to see!" Smiled Pomni, shyly with a hum. "So... When do you wanna do the uh shooting practice?"

"Ah yeah! I figured once we've eaten, I'll speak to Ma real quick and then we can get started! Sound good to you?"

"T-That sounds good to me-"

"Snazzy."

The two continued to eat happily with occasional words of conversation, mostly happy to just exist aside one another.

It was the peace Pomni had been wanting for the last few days.

It was the peace Gummigoo hadn't known he'd needed for the last few weeks.

The pair were soon headed over to a little clearing by the main ranch house. It was surrounded by fencing and had a few shabby targets nailed together at the end.

"Welcome to Pa's shooting range, Poms." Grinned Gummigoo. "This is where I learned to shoot, and now it's where you'll learn too!"

"I-I'm excited to learn!" Beamed Pomni, sheepishly.

"I'm glad to hear that! Now come stand here."

Pomni moved to stand in front of the mark. She looked up and saw she was stood inline with the centre target.

"First, we'll work on accuracy!"

He moved to stand behind her and crouched down. He tenderly placed his pistol into her hands, making sure to position her hands on the right position.

"Now, this is how you hold ya pistol! Try to hold it like this as much as you can, otherwise the force back from after you shoot can hurt ya hand. And you don't wanna do that, trust me, I learnt from experience."

"N-Noted! Hold the gun safely- As much as you can-"

He hummed at this approvingly with a nod. "Now, what you wanna do is line up this little eye piece right about here on the target."

He slowly moved her aim into position.

"You would think to aim here, right? Well, these bad boys are different! Pa made em on an angle, so wild shots have a higher chance of being accurate. Does mean however that every casual shot you take is gotta be on an angle."

“Right..” Nodded Pomni, slowly.

“Now all you gotta do is click here.” He hummed softly, guiding her hand with his atop it to the trigger.

*Bang!*

Pomni had successfully shot a gun!

“I did it!” She grinned, looking up to Gummigoo.

“You sure did Pommy!” He hummed, returning the grin. “You were so close to a bullseye but hey, practice makes perfect, aye?”

“Definitely!”

He helped her take a few more shots, only sitting back to watch when Pomni felt confident enough to shoot on her own. She was picking up the skill amazingly fast! It was natural talent Gummigoo hadn’t seen in a while- He most definitely would have to talk to Ma about making Poms her own gun. He watched the way she’d flinch back a little from the force of his gun. If she had one accustomed to her, he had a hunch she’d be shooting better than Max and Chad in no time!

Ma was awfully busy though with all the Candy Kingdom Citizens, so he figured he might as well take some time in the next evening to make Pomni a gun! That way she would be well equipped to join himself, Max and Chad on scouting adventures.

So, that’s what he set off to do! Leaving Poms to her practice.

•

Zooble was sat watching Gangle draw in her notebook when Kinger and Ragatha came over.

“H-Hi you guys!” Squeaked Gangle, softly in her usual tone.

“Hey.” Nodded Gangle.

“Hello!” Smiled Ragatha, gently. “Is it okay if we join you? Kinger thought it may be a good idea if I hung out with you guys for a bit to try and get my mind off Pomni-“

“O-Oh sure!” Nodded Gangle.

The two sat down.

A content silence fell over the group, the only sound being the scratch of Gangle’s pencil. After a few minutes work, she ripped out a page and handed it out to Ragatha.

“I-I know you’re sad about Pomni s-so I figured I might do you a drawing of her so it feels like she’s still with you!” She explained, sheepishly.

Ragatha was quiet for a few minutes looking over the sketch of her with Pomni.

“…GANGLE THIS IS SO SWEET OF YOU-“

Gangle squeaked as she was pulled into a crushing hug by Ragatha, her happy mask flung off but was caught by Zooble luckily.

“Gosh! I’ll have to make you something in return- This is to perfect Gangle!” Beamed Ragatha.

“O-Oh! Alright-“ Smiled Gangle, sheepishly as Zooble gently placed her happy mask back onto her face.

“You tell me what you want and I’ll get on it! Or I can make it a surprise-“

“A surprise could be fun-“ Murmured Gangle, shyly.

“A surprise it is then!”

Zooble put an assuring arm around Gangle sensing her growing anxiety from being overwhelmed by Ragatha’s sudden excitement.

Things weren’t perfect right now, but at least they had each other!

Part 8

[bookloover35]

I Wanna Merry You Someday- Jack Kelly x fem reader.

The streets of New York were alive with the hum of voices, the clatter of carriage wheels, and the hustle of people going about their day. Among the crowd, you stood, watching as a group of Newsies took a quick break, some lounging on crates, others exchanging jokes. But your eyes were fixed on one person—the boy with the wild, carefree spirit who was always at the center of everything.

Jack Kelly.

His brown hair was messy as usual, and his grin was as charming as it was mischievous. He caught your gaze and winked, sending a flutter to your heart. He always had that effect on you, ever since you first met him months ago. The connection between the two of you was instant, though it had taken you a while to admit to yourself how much you cared for him.

Jack was trouble, of that you were certain. He lived for the moment, never concerned with tomorrow, always chasing freedom. And yet, when he was around, the world felt like it was just a little bit better, a little bit more magical.

You weren't sure how it happened, but over time, you became close. Close enough to share moments of laughter, stolen kisses, and quiet nights on rooftops, looking at the stars. It was easy to pretend like nothing mattered when you were with him—like you were just two people, enjoying each other's company in a city full of chaos.

Today was different, though. There was something in the air, something that made your heart beat a little faster. Maybe it was the way the sun was starting to set, casting a golden glow over everything, or the way Jack had been glancing your way more often than usual.

"Hey, (Y/N), you gonna stand there all day, or are you gonna join me?" Jack called out to you, a playful smile dancing on his lips. He was leaning casually against a lamppost, his arms crossed.

You grinned, feeling your cheeks warm. "What, you missin' me already, Kelly?"

Jack shrugged, the grin never leaving his face. "Just figure it'd be better to have you next to me than watchin' from a distance."

With a roll of your eyes, you walked over to him, sidestepping a few Newsies along the way. Jack straightened up as you neared, and you couldn't help but notice the way his eyes softened when they met yours. It was one of those rare moments where you saw the side of him that wasn't always visible to the world—vulnerable, sincere, like he was letting down his guard for just a second.

He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "You're looking mighty fine today."

"Flattery won't get you far, Jack Kelly," you teased, though your heart fluttered at the compliment.

He chuckled, moving a bit closer to you. "Yeah? Well, maybe I gotta try somethin' else to get your attention."

Before you could respond, he placed a hand on your shoulder and gently guided you towards the edge of the roof where he'd taken to spending a lot of time lately, watching the world go by.

The view from the rooftop was breathtaking. The city sprawled out in front of you, buildings rising up like giants, the sun beginning its descent behind them, casting the skyline in a brilliant pink and orange hue. You leaned against the brick wall, Jack standing close beside you, both of you content in the silence that only moments like this could create.

After a few minutes, Jack spoke again, his voice quieter now, more serious.

"You ever think about what comes next, (Y/N)?" He asked, his gaze still on the horizon.

You blinked, surprised by the question. Jack Kelly wasn't the type to dwell on the future. He was always more about living in the moment, chasing the next adventure.

"What do you mean?" you asked, turning to face him.

Jack hesitated for a moment, like he was working through something in his mind. "I mean... we've got the city, we've got the Newsies, we've got all this freedom. But... I keep thinkin' 'bout what we'd do if we didn't have to keep fightin' for it, you know? What if there was somethin' more?"

Your pulse quickened. Was he talking about what you thought he was talking about?

You swallowed, your voice coming out softer than usual. "What do you want, Jack?"

He turned toward you then, his expression intense but warm. "I want you, (Y/N). All of you. Not just now, not just for today... but for the long haul. I wanna be there with you when we're old and wrinkled and still fightin' the world together. I wanna marry you one day."

Your heart stopped, and for a moment, the world seemed to freeze. Jack Kelly, the boy who could charm the socks off anyone and always seemed to live for the moment, was standing in front of you, speaking words you never thought you'd hear. Words that made your heart swell with emotion.

"You want to marry me?" you whispered, unsure if your ears were deceiving you.

Jack laughed, but it was different from his usual carefree chuckles. There was a hint of nervousness, of hopefulness. "Yeah. I wanna marry you. And I know it might sound crazy, but I can see it, (Y/N). I can see us, a little house somewhere, kids runnin' around, maybe a dog—"

"You want a dog?" you interrupted, laughing despite the overwhelming feeling in your chest.

He smiled, a genuine, soft smile, before nodding. "Yeah, why not? I think we'd make a pretty good team. What do you say?"

For a moment, you just stared at him, your mind racing. The future, the idea of forever with Jack Kelly—it felt surreal, yet perfect. He was everything you never thought you'd want, and everything you knew you'd need.

Without a word, you stepped forward, wrapping your arms around him tightly. He stiffened at first, then relaxed into the embrace, his arms wrapping around you in return. You could feel his heart beating in time with yours.

"I say... I wanna marry you too, Jack," you murmured, your voice thick with emotion.

His laughter, soft and genuine, filled the space between you. "Yeah? Well, one day we'll make it happen. I promise you that."

And in that moment, as you stood there in his arms, looking out at the city together, you knew that whatever came next, you'd face it together.

[ladyluscinia]

Draft clearing. I think I had more of a point on the topic of Jenkins and genre I wanted to make when I gathered these, but I'm not feeling it anymore. However, I need spread awareness of his absolutely baffling ideas about pirate media and how he sounds half-convinced it must be a formulaic action/adventure. I only picked up on this by reading way too many interviews back to back so I'm not surprised I've never seen anyone else mention it, but like. It's wild. And he's SO additionally weird about how showrunning a piece of media about pirates relates to whatever concept he has of pirate media in his head.

Here's the link to my interview compilation if you want to check my sources on these.

Jenkins Quotes on "Pirate Genre"

"I think actual pirate stuff is fine, but it's not necessarily my cup of tea. And I think Taika [Waititi] felt similarly.

[...]

Showrunner Jenkins sees Our Flag Means Death as having "joy. A lot of joy. I like Stede because Stede is, to me, the outsider artist of pirates. And I think in designing the show, I was conscious [of the fact that it's] a hard genre to do anything to. It's a very stubborn genre because it's been done so well and so often. So I kind of tried to look at, like New York, like Alphabet City in the '80s via a pirate genre via Mad Max and try to throw all these different things at it. So I think you'll get a different feel than you'd get on a normal pirate thing. I think we achieved that with our amazing crew." - (Gizmodo, 2/22/22)

"I guess I really… I get kind of bored. How much pirate can you do? They're going to rob stuff. They're going to steal ships. There's only so many pirate stories you can do." - (Collider, 3/24/22)

Despite creating a pirate show, he himself says he's not a huge fan of pirate movies. - (EW.com, 12/13/22)

"I don't want to see a bunch of pirate things that I've seen in other things, I'll just go watch another thing if I want to see that. That's not really my thing. I like the genre, but it's a very hard genre to budge. I want to see relationships in a pirate world." - (TV Guide, 10/5/23)

"The pirate genre is fun, but I wasn't dying to make a pirate show. Taika wasn't dying to make a pirate show. But the thing that was interesting to me was that Stede finds love, and he finds it with Blackbeard." - (Variety, 10/13/23)

"I think there is something in the show about how piracy is a brutal way of life. It's essentially Mad Max, this world. There's no law, there's just strong and weak." - (Polygon, 10/21/23)

"And it’s also a pirate show, so he’s got to die." - (Vanity Fair, 10/26/23)

"Another thing I love is what I call shaggy stories, stories about people navigating each other. When you plug them into different genres, you get this great engine that comes with it. I'm not particularly dying to write a pirate thing, but I want to write a bunch of characters trying to navigate each other in a pirate thing." - (Vulture, 10/28/23)

"But I'm like you. I'm not a big pirate person. In general, it's a big creaky genre that's hard to budge, but I think the show benefits from we can pull pirate stuff out when we need it. Ultimately, yeah, I want to see these different relationships and perspectives on different relationships. Then it's fun to plug it into an overwrought genre.

[...]

Pirates of the Caribbean, those movies are great. That's not necessarily what I hunger to see, but in that genre, it's great. You're not going to beat that, especially on something that's lower budget. We've seen a lot of this stuff, so it's fun to take it then and don't do any of that stuff." - (Metro Weekly, 11/1/23)

"I think it's more interesting to me that I've never seen a love story like this in this genre, and you dream for that. Really, pirates, what can you do that's different with pirates?

[...]

To me, to tell the story about these two men in this very hetero action genre, falling for each other..." - (Metro Weekly, 11/1/23)

---

...This is the same guy who just ended a season on the British Navy blowing up Nassau for symbolism reasons that I'm pretty sure have nothing to do with the love story. 🤨

[storiesbyjes2g]

3.173 The whole truth

I had every intention of waking up early to get a jump on cleaning up the mess, but my bed had me in a chokehold. The room was the perfect temperature thanks to the cooler autumn air and my skimpy attire. I eventually pried myself away from the soft, cool sheets, but the thought of washing piles of soiled dishes made me regret ever leaving my crisp sanctuary. Still, I dragged myself downstairs, fully prepared to insist we call a cleaning service only to find Sophia collecting the last of the plates. That woman is a goddess, and the Watcher must really love me. I appreciated her pro-activeness, but felt bad about her doing all of that alone when we were supposed to tackle it together. Even though I knew there wasn't anything else to do, I still looked around to find a way to help and found piles of dog hair everywhere—even outside. I used to stay on top of brushing Rosie when she and Kooper were our only babies, but now I barely know what day it is half of the time. She's lucky if I'm able to go jogging with her.

With nothing else to do, I jumped on breakfast while Sophia checked on Desiree, who was still asleep. It's been a while since I had a nice, quiet, mess-free meal with my wife. Well, at least it began quietly. My phone would not stop ringing. First, Less called with a wild story about bath time adventures with our terrific trio. Spoiler alert: they were not so terrific, heh.

Next, Maira called to explain why she missed Desi's birthday party. I was so overjoyed to learn she had gone on a date, and it went well! She's finally ready to let love into her life, and I couldn't be more happy for her. I never understood why she was so hesitant, apart from not wanting to be pressured by society's expectations. She has her issues just like everyone else, but she is so sweet and deserves to have all the love she's given come back to her tenfold. I tell her I can't wait to meet him--when the time is right, of course.

Sophia, overhearing my side of the conversation, expressed happiness for the news and hit me with an unexpected question when I hung up.

"What's the story with you two?"

"Story? I thought I told you."

"You did. But you clearly love her. I know you said you were always just friends, but something happened. I think I'm ready to know what that is now."

This is such a healthy conversation between two very mature adults. Even though Sophia has always been very confident about our relationship, we couldn't have had this conversation any earlier than now. We've lived through some things. She's seen me with my friends and understands the love I have for Maira is a different kind of love that is not a threat.

"Okay..."

I sit back in my chair, thinking of what she really wants to know and how to tell this story because it's one of my least fond memories.

"I almost lost her."

Sophia gasped, and I knew this story was not what she had expected.

"The first time I went to her place, she was going to make dinner. Heh, she wasn't much of a cook, but she wanted to try. I don't know how it happened, but the stove... It just...blew up. She was on fire, and I..."

It still pained me to remember how I ran out of there like a coward, leaving her to fend for herself. I think that's just one of those things in life I'll never get over and will beat myself up about it until I'm dead.

"I ran, Sophia. She was completely engulfed in flames, and I left her."

"I'm glad you did," she said. "Fires are so tricky! Both of you could have been hurt, or worse."

"I know. It doesn't make me feel less like a punk, though. Her building has a good alarm system, so the fire department came quickly and saved her, thank Watcher. She was okay, obviously. But I wasn't. I didn't realize how special to me she was until then. It wasn't like I wanted to run off and marry her or anything, but she was someone I wanted to keep. I held her so tight. Her hair and clothes were singed, and she really needed to shower and change, but I couldn't let her go. I refuse to let her go."

"Wow, Luca! I'm so sorry you had to witness such a horrible accident. I see how things are different with her, especially when you feel partly responsible!"

"Yeah. I'm glad you understand."

"I think I was afraid before, but I'm ready to know all your little secrets now."

I'm really glad she asked me about this. Not because I felt burdened and needed to share, but because it brought back the kind of intimacy we shared back when we started dating. It's been so long since we've experienced it, I forgot it was even there. Between the wedding stuff, pregnancy stuff, parenthood stuff, and death, I feel like we've just been surviving for the longest, and I'm really looking forward to get back to living...whenever that is.

Just as that thought entered my mind, yet another phone call came in. It was Dub with a very enticing invitation. He and Maia got engaged last night, and they're eloping! His request that was high key a demand was to join them in Ciudad Enamorada to witness their nuptials. They rented a huge house with enough room for us if we want to stay with them. The only caveat was we'll have to leave as soon as possible because it's going down later today! I gave him a tentative yes because there is no way my best friend is getting married and I'm not there. And to turn down a free vacation? I think not. I told him I'd confirm in a few minutes after I discuss with Sophia who waited anxiously for me to explain the exciting, one-sided conversation she overheard. I honestly thought she would hesitate to make such a big trip in a short amount of time, but to my surprise, she said yes immediately. After all, this is the same woman who asked me to move in with her after our first date, heh. We're going to the City of Love, baby!

[judgeanon]

It Sure Has Been a Wild Couple of Days to be a Lady Shiva Fan

(Art by Skylar Partridge)

So after only showing up for a backup story in DETECTIVE COMICS a few months ago and for a few pages in the last issues of BATGIRLS back in January, turns out that Lady Shiva is gonna be a major part of not one, but two different series come November. Putting my thoughts under the jump 'cause they might be long:

First, there's an all-new BATGIRL ongoing written by Tate Brombal and drawn by Takeshi Miyazawa. I'm not really familiar with either of them, but I'm gonna try to check some of their work in the weekend. As for the plot:

When a deadly group of assassins shows up to kill Cassandra Cain, Lady Shiva must come to the rescue, and they’re forced to put their complicated past aside and work together as mother and daughter to ensure they make it out alive. Unfortunately, things are never as easy as they seem, and Batgirl must embark on a jaw-dropping, martial-arts filled adventure in her quest for truth and justice…and revenge?! This is a Batgirl unlike any other so don’t miss the opportunity to dive into the psyche of one of Gotham City’s deadliest fighters, while exploring her deep and complex relationship with her mother.

Here's the thing: while I am overjoyed that after Bryan Hill's OUTSIDERS we've pretty much exorcised the idea of Shiva as a zealous, card-carrying member of the League of Assassins, I've been a little bothered by how literally every single big Shiva appearance afterwards has revolved around Cass. Even in that weird short stint leading a new Birds of Prey team, her motivation was somehow gaining Cass' trust for... reasons. So I'm glad Shiva's no longer an LoA flunky, but I'm concerned with how she seems so tied at the hip with Cass -- especially since Cass does get to have stories that don't involve Shiva at all.

But at the same time, I do think there's a lot of meat on that bone, meat that, in my eye, nobody has really sank their teeth in yet. Hill tried but he was working within a team book, and Cloonan and Conrad just sorta teased it. This one, however, feels like a story about Shiva and Cass built from the ground up, with all the room necessary for some actual development from the two. This is them not as a subplot or as a tease for future stories, but as The Story. And while that may go in a bunch of different ways, I'm definitely interested to see what way this will go.

Annnd then there's Tom King and Ryan Sook's BLACK CANARY: BEST OF THE BEST, which I'm... a little less interested in.

Black Canary faces her toughest opponent yet, Lady Shiva, in a battle to determine who is the single greatest hand-to-hand fighter in the DC Universe. To make it to the final round, Black Canary will need all her fighting skill and ability, plus additional training from some of DC’s most accomplished fighters, including Batman, Wildcat, and even her mother, the original Black Canary!

Yeaaaaah, I just... I'm not feeling this one. There's not any real mention of a plot here, not a lot to really grab on to other than vibes, and the vibes are just weird. It's weird how Dinah is fighting to determine who's the best fighter, something that to me isn't really a huge part of her character. It's weird that, from the preview pages, they're fighting in like a Vegas casino, in a ring, with an audience. It's weird that there's three trainers mentioned and none of them are Cass, who not only has beaten Shiva before but has trained with Dinah at least twice in canon. And this being tumblr, let me say it's also weird that this is a story about a white woman training with three white people to beat up an Asian woman in martial arts.

It's a six issue mini and the short solicit and weirdness is clearly meant to pique curiosity. But I'm dreading how much this all sounds like it's using Shiva to put Dinah in a pedestal, to show how strong and resilient and stubborn she can be. Even if it goes for a ROCKY ending of "Lost the fight but won at life", unless Shiva is written very thoughtfully, it feels like she's just gonna be there for the sake of Dinah's character. And I dunno if I trust King to write Shiva with any real thought.

So that's kinda where I'm at. Neither of these are a full Shiva solo, and one of them fills me with dread, but it's been a real rush to have two major Shiva-related projects like these be revealed one after the other. And with 2025 being the 50th anniversary of her debut, hey, who knows? Maybe this is just paving the road for something special. Hope springs eternal, no?

[wisteria-lodge]

Since you're writing Night at the Museum fanfiction, I gotta ask how you would sort the characters in those movies? (I remember like two years ago I semi-started my own sorting of the characters and then just never finished it)

So the thing about the way the museum exhibits are characterized is that they know they are exhibits. They *like* being exhibits. Their purpose in life is to teach/help the humans who come into contact with them (because that is the purpose they have been created for.)

Teddy is *very* aware he's not the Real Theodore Roosevelt, and kind of struggles with Theodore Roosevelt's ongoing legacy. He, Amelia Earhart, they're the cultural idea of the person they represent, not time travellers. It's pretty meta. Jedidiah and Octavius are not written as a literal historical cowboy and a literal historical roman, they are a reflection of how a 21st century American *thinks* about Cowboys (TM) and Romans (TM.) So a lot of what you're doing when you're writing about Jed and Octavius is unpacking cultural ideas of ideal masculinity, which was really fun to do.

That's my long-winded way of saying that all the museum exhibits are Badger primaries, full stop. Even Amelia Earhart doesn't *really* want "a great adventure" (which would be more Lion primary.) She wants to teach other people about the importance of having a great adventure. Jed actually talks about this a lot: "I called you 'cause you needed us. [You're] all gussied up, but dead inside. That ain't you." and "the least we can do is give [Larry] some help."

Larry Daley however, is not a Badger. He's a Snake. His entire motivation in the first film is his son - and the second one starts with a Larry who's a little Burned. He's got that Burnt Snake hedonism, leaning towards money and stuff and away from his personal connections, and regaining that connection is the plot of the movie.

In terms of secondary - Jed's a Lion. I don't think he's ever planned anything, ever. He talks a lot about his desire to "roam free" and asks Octavius to "remember me as I was, wild and free." He dislikes being constrained (manhandled.) He's kind of unofficially been made/made himself the leader of his diorama, which is very Lion secondary. And the fact that he's got guns that don't work (but he shoots them anyway) is... a little bit of a joke at the expense of Lion secondaries. This is a movie that *likes* prep-work secondaries, and it especially loves Bird secondaries. Larry is a *loud* Bird. When we met him he's an inventor (very Bird coded.) Then he gets the job at the museum, finds it overwhelming... and immediately does a TON of research, and starts making lists to organize and orientate himself.

Octavius is a Badger secondary. He has an official position of leadership, and is much, much more defined by his groups (his legion, "the glory of Rome") than Jed is. He immediately slots Larry into his personal hierarchy, even giving him a title - "My Liege" (Badgers love titles.) Also, not going to lie, he is kind of a kiss-ass. That, plus sweet-talking the Abraham Lincoln statue into coming to help... means we've got a Courtier Badger Secondary.

tl;dr

Larry Daley ~ Snake Bird

Jedidiah ~ Badger Lion

Octavius ~ Double Badger

[felixcloud6288]

Dungeon Meshi Chapter 8

After the wild events involving Living Armor, we're getting something fairly normal this chapter.

This isn't an RPG. Fighting monsters doesn't give EXP to level up. It just wears you out. So it's worth avoiding any fights you can, especially against monsters you can't eat.

Throughout this chapter, I kept feeling like something was off about Marcille's appearance. Then I realized she changed her hair style. Now I don't know hair styles so I'm making a wild guess at some of these. I think the braid we can see from the front is a French Braid. She used to have two of these, but now she only has one on her right shoulder. Meanwhile, I think the braid behind her ear is called a Dutch Braid. She only has one on her left side. She also used to have a small bun above where she wrapped the rest of her hair into a ponytail, but she doesn't have that now. She also seems to discard the French braid partway through the chapter.

We've got some Senshi lore. He's been living in the dungeon long enough to have campsites on the third floor. He mentioned he hunts on the second and fourth floors. The second floor was a forest area with plants and wild game to hunt. I'm going to guess the fourth floor is that water level I mentioned seeing in chapter 2.

This is another chapter like chapter 5. We're not focusing on how to hunt and cook monsters. Instead we're focusing on how to use the mechanisms of the dungeon for cooking.

Personally, I think making your farm field into a golem is unnecessary if you have a normal above-ground field to work, but this situation is more of a "Take advantage of what you can" situation. Since the golems are made of dirt, why not try using them to grow vegetables.

Any magic researcher who would get upset about how Senshi is using the dirt golems needs to seriously broaden their horizons. Sometimes, Marcille's comments on the magic research field makes everyone in it come off as highly closed off from reality and fairly narrow-minded about the applications of magic.

Magic so far seems to be only a thing useful to adventurers. The average person probably doesn't care for magic at all because it doesn't actually benefit them in any way. Maybe if magic researchers learned about Senshi's antics, they might start to consider magic as a tool to benefit everyone.

How did Senshi put on that hat? Are the horns on his helmet removable?

Those golems attacked Senshi. So they probably don't recognize him as their master. I guess whoever actually builds the cores is the master, not whoever plants it.

It's the first instance of the legendary Senshi FLASH!!

Maybe if magical creatures were designed to do something other than attack people, it wouldn't be a crime to activate them. Marcille was willing to call Senshi out on how he's doing something illegal, but she didn't care to argue the point. And then he only reactivated the golems when she wasn't there so it's not like she actually witnessed Senshi illegally activate the golems.

This panel is annoying me. Get the water ready for what? And why do we need to plug the drain?

Did Senshi name the golems?

On that conversation about convenient vs easy. Let's look at the Merriam-Webster definitions for them.

Convenient: suited to personal comfort or to easy performance; suited to a particular situation; affording accommodation or advantage

Easy: causing or involving little difficulty or discomfort; requiring or indicating little effort, thought, or reflection

So I guess I could sum easy as "Not hard" while convenient is "helpful".

The golems being around is convenient because it gives Senshi an option to grow vegetables he otherwise wouldn't have. He doesn't need the golems, but it's convenient to have them since it lets him do things he otherwise couldn't.

Meanwhile, he thinks using magic for everything is easy because it doesn't take physical effort to cast a fire spell compared to actually starting a fire by hand.

His comparison is that its easier to buy vegetables from the store because you don't have to endure the work that's needed to actually grow the vegetables. Granted, I don't know how much work actually goes into learning magic or casting it so it could be possible he's ignoring the effort that goes into actually casting a fire spell.

I get where Senshi is coming from to a degree. We live in a world where technology makes things very easy for us and we tend to neglect useful skills because of that. Some people aren't competent with basic math because using a calculator is easier. And we have map applications on our phones to help guide us, but most of us probably couldn't read a map if we had to.

I get the feeling that Senshi does not plan on staying with the party beyond this adventure. Marcille's magic would be highly convenient for him but he wants to make sure he has and keeps the skills necessary to work without them.

I'd argue that Marcille is the true protagonist of this story. She's the only member of the team who is not ready for the difficult life the party is living. I don't know yet why she chose to be an adventurer, but I feel like she was enamored by the romance of adventure you'd read about in a story.

Her initial hostility to eating monsters included a shot of her reading the paper and calling people eating monsters fools. And she thinks eating monsters is what criminals with no other options do. If it were up to her, she'd get a meal at the tavern and stock up on travel rations instead of doing all this.

She's still insecure about her utility to the party. And Senshi pointing out how she's doing things because they're easy rather than convenient is getting to her a bit. She's good at magic, yes. And her magic can definitely help everyone out. But she doesn't actually have any practical skills that can help out on a regular adventure outside of fighting. And if she should ever not be able to cast magic, she won't be able to do anything on her own.

Marcille's face tells me we're better off not knowing what that last bit of a golem is. I'm gonna guess some sort of blood magic is involved.

The chapter ends on a nice note about the ecology of the dungeon. Everything plays a role in the environmental balance and over-hunting will disrupt that balance. It explains why he got on Marcille's case in chapter 2 when she planned on killing the whole field of man-eating plants. Destroying them would negatively impact whatever eats them and allow whatever the plants to feed on to grow out of control.

Despite what some people would argue, humans are part of nature as well and we have the power to help keep the environment stable. Senshi's closing remarks on the golems gives an example about how people in this world have helped keep the dungeon environment stable even if by accident.

The golems don't just serve as a hindrance to adventurers trying to get to the lower levels of the dungeon. They also serve as a hindrance to monsters trying to get to the upper levels of the dungeon. They are an artificial creation, but nature adapted around them and they have become a cornerstone creature in how the dungeon environment lives and thrives.

And Senshi himself has chosen to become part of the dungeon environment as well.

back

[the-possum-writes]

Hey hun! I fricken love Adventure and its so hard to find fics of it but your blog is great! Could you do a Finn x reader where its just our boy being super affectionate and playful he chases the reader and then tickles them, gives lots of smooches and just lots of fluff? Thanks!

Call me sunshine

❥Character: Finn Mertens

❥Tags: Fluff, SFW, playful banter, Gn!reader

❥Synopsis:

After spending weeks digging through underground tunnels, both you and Finn coincidentally resurface near a flower hill.

❥Taglist: @watchingfromthefloorboards

With only dirt and rocks in the way, you and your buddy had to spend several hours using pickaxes and shovels to break through the obstruction. Eventually, the soil began to soften, making the task simpler for you both.

"How much longer till we leave this place? It feels like we've been digging nonstop for days."

The map crinkles beneath your calloused hands, which are covered in fabric bandages, clearing the dust so you can see your math equations in the corner. "It should be a few feet away; once the ground turns to sand, we're good."

"Do you mean this?"Finn switched to a shovel to remove the few rocks that were intertwined with streams of gray sand and seashells. The dust filling the cave became so overwhelming that you raised the bandana on your neck to your lower jaw, stuffing the map in your pocket in order to help Finn before he gets buried alive. Once the sand broke away into a hole on the cieling the two of you are showered in natural sunlight that burns your pupils like lemon juice on an open wound.

Finn burst into a cheery laugh. "I never knew I'd be so happy to get blinded by the sun." he rubs his eyes a few times before getting used to the exterior, stretching and arm out to help you climb out of the hole.

"I'm not in a rush to go blind but I'm glad we got out of those caves, it was starting to feel claustrophobic." you tug the cloth from your face, feeling like its suffocating you now that it isn't necessary. While you drop down on the sand dunes soaking up in the sun, Finn started jogging downhill to probably stretch his legs or something. After spending weeks underground you regret taking the sun for granted, relishing the warmth it lays over your dirt ridden skin, listening closely to the seagulls and the nearby shore like a natural lullaby. You could've easily taken a nap right there if it wasn't for a shadow blocking the light from your face, opening your eyes to a drenched young man in front of you.

In the few minutes you laid down Finn had already ditched his clothes and his caving gear and ran off to dip in the oceanside without you.

"What's up with you?" Finn asked, with his hands on his waist eyeing you like an oddity that washed ashore.

You scrunched up your nose when a few droplets landed on your heated skin.  "Me? What's up with you?" you retort.

He squeezes the water out of his wild medium length hair. "I needed a dip after getting all dusty in there, you should try it!"

You scrunch your nose a second time and casually rest your arms behind your head. "Thanks but no thanks, I'll take a hot shower when I get home."

Finn laughs, pinching his nose. "You're gross, why wait for a shower when you got a giant bath out here." he waves a hand where the ocean is.

"No way, fish pee in there." you say jokingly while sticking your tongue out.

"So what? I pee in the shower too." Finn responds almost immediately, with you taunting him with gaging noises.

"That's even worse!"

"Come'on, if I can't take you willing then I'll have to dunk you in myself!" Having enough of your tomfoolery, Finn playfully tries to grab hold of you.

"Heck nah! Get away from me ya seadog!" you immediately scramble to your feet and take off running with Finn chasing right behind your tail like a starving animal. The sand kicks up with every step you take, slows you down a bit as you run uphill, but the scenery changes the farther you run, with patches of grass becoming more common and colorful. Eventually you reach the top of the sand dune with a heaving chest, seemingly forgetting why you were in a hurry when your eyesight was blessed with grassy meadows and soft flowers swaying peacefully in the breeze, after growing used to dark browns and grays caverns its easy to be captured by such an cheery display.

"Gotcha!" Finn catches up to you by wrapping his arms around your midsection and promptly sent you down the grassy hill with him. There's leafs and petals flying everywhere as your vision blurs like a carousel with the ground replacing where the ground should be over and over again, the only thing keeping your limbs together is Finn holding you tight, eventually landing at the bottom of the hill with an "Oomph!" as flowers crumble under the two of you. "Bleh!" you spit out the petals that got into your mouth. All the while Finn is contently laughing to himself even though he's trapped under you, it's tempting to spew some colorful words at him but you're unable to stay mad at him because his laugh is that contagious.

"...I guess I could use that ocean bath now." you admit in defeat.

Finn out stretches his arms to you embrace you in a smooch, you pull back slowly to repeat the kiss but it got interrupted by the flower petal that got in your mouth, causing Finn to blow a raspberry. "Bleh." he pouts and this time you're the one laughing.

[nhaneh]

Trying to imagine how the conversation might go when Kea tells Y'Shtola that we'll effectively be helping to determine the next ruler of Tural. I think up to now the Scions have been avoiding taking explicit political action. The closest we've gotten was in Stormblood when we helped Doma and Ala Mhigo free themselves from Imperial control. Dawntrail is a member of the royal family saying 'Hello, I am Wuk Lamat. The Dawnservant is planning on stepping down and has given us permission to choose other people to help us fight to become the next leader of Tural'

"Kea, dearest... are you certain of this?", Y'shtola's voice came cautiously, hesitant - a far cry from her regular air of certainty.

"I don't see why not - she seems nice enough, and her heart's in the right place.", Kea shrugged. A friend of a friend had asked for help, and Krile had a mystery she wanted solved. Sounded like the start of a good adventure.

"Still, we Scions have sought to remain politically neutral for a reason..."

"All the better to uphold the fiction that we've disbanded, no?"

"--Not to mention how it might open the floodgates for people to swarm you with petitions that you support this or that agenda."

"You know well as I that already happens, love." It felt like they were dancing around the topic at hand, rather than just taking it head-on... and Kea was pretty sure Y'shtola knew it, too. "Come now, what is it that's actually bothering you?"

Y'shtola paused, looking intently at her, before finally continuing. "...I worry that we may come to act cross purpose. Opposed."

Kea frowned. She couldn't deny that the possibility had occurred to her - as an Adventurer, it was inevitable to sometimes find yourself on the opposite side of some of your fellows, sometimes even friends, by sheer circumstance. Though the risk for it happening was far less with her fellow Scions...

"I suppose it'd be down to whose convictions are strongest...", Kea breathed, almost more to herself.

"Kea...", Y'shtola's voice carried that 'please take this seriously' expression perfectly without Kea even needing to look up to see it.

"I mean it.", but that was the thing - she was serious. Most Adventurers she knew, including herself, had found themselves in fights they didn't want, against opponents they didn't wish any harm upon.

It was a lot like two matched predators meeting in the wild, having an elaborate dance gauging each other's strengths and weaknesses, neither necessarily able to afford a straight up fight, but also neither necessarily willing to yield. As much as it might look like conflict, it was more of a negotiation to avoid one.

"I trust you to do what you believe is right. Even... even if that might see us pursuing opposing goals. I don't want to fight you, Shtola - I love you, more than anything. But if neither of us can convince each other with words alone... what can we do but to let our actions, and our convictions, speak for us?"

Kea wasn't sure what it might take for her to sway Y'shtola once she had truly set her mind on something, nor what it might take for Y'shtola to convince her in similar circumstances... but she was certain it would have to be something weighed in actions, rather than words.

"If one person can remain as they are despite their heart and mind acting in opposition... can our hearts not remain aligned even should our goals diverge?"

And if I were to fall astray, there is none I would rather trust to help me find my way.

Y'shtola let out a sigh, and a laugh, gently shaking her head. "I trust you realize I would not hold back, were it to come to that."

"Of course", Kea replied with a grin. "I'd feel a mite disappointed if you did."

[ladyswillmart]

Hivallion Gallery

In lieu of actual art skills, I just keep making iterations of my OC (or... Blorbo, I think that's what you call these now) in Hero Forge. In order, we've got:

Hivallion in his "natal nest" of Eglarest: Y.T. 1497 (shortly before the Siege of the Falas). He was only 109 (in tree years) when this happened. His hair was a slightly darker shade back then, and already quite long.

Hivallion in Mithlond: S.A. ~2000s. After surviving so many subsequent sieges and wars and even a Kinslaying, he at last found some measure of peace in the Grey Havens. During this age, he wrote and illustrated several books about the wildlife of Lindon and thereabouts.

Hivallion at Daglorad: S.A. 3434. At the age of 5098, he (reluctantly) joined the Last Alliance of Elves and Men, serving under his lord Círdan's banner. Alongside his trained raven companion, he put his scouting talents to good use; it was this raven who would bring word (or an insistent "hubba bubba bub") of Hivallion's Morgul-steel wound to his allies, an act that indubitably saved his life.

Hivallion in Gamwich: T.A. 3016, spring. This figure depicts Hivallion's first startled encounter with a hobbit. He had been in a coma for the entirety of the third age thus far, and was not expecting to see civilization of any sort occupying the former wilds once called "Arassian" but now called "Yondershire".

Hivallion in Long Cleeve: T.A. 3016, autumn. Rather than turn tail and run back to Celondim, Hivallion decided to stay in the Yondershire and make a sincere effort towards understanding this relatively new society of halflings. For about two years, he resided with a particularly eccentric clan in Long Cleeve (the Askews).

Hivallion in Frogmorton: T.A. 3017, summer. During his Shire residency, Hivallion cut his long hair off at the shoulders and began dressing in a more hobbit-like fashion. He celebrated many festivals with his new neighbors and learned an awful lot about the famous (and apparently inexorable) Hobbit custom of gift-giving.

Hivallion in the Lone-Lands: T.A. 3018. Unfortunately, Hivallion's idyll came to an end and he soon found himself getting whisked away on another adventure, this time getting involved with a mysterious ranger calling himself "Strider", a Dúnedain who claimed that he knew Hivallion from his stint as a vegetative tourist attraction in Imladris...

Hivallion at the Haunted Inn, Mirkwood: Early T.A. 3019 (with occasional traveling companion Bingo Boffin). Hivallion has just concluded a most upsetting mission, while all Bingo can think about is breakfast. Typical Hobbit! Indeed, Hivallion continues to wear the same armor he donned at Daglorad, despite its impressive age (and ignoring the patched-up hole near the shoulder from where he got stabbed by a Nazgûl).

Hivallion in Egladil, Lothlórien: Early T.A. 3019. He spent a bit of time here assisting the elves of Lórien as they prepared a fete for the Fellowship of the Ring. Not unlike a certain wedding in Minas Tirith (that technically hasn't happened yet), while the party planners would be most grateful for Hivallion's contributions, they would still neglect to set aside a single seat for him at their tables... 😩

Hivallion at Echad Dagoras, Enedwaith: Early T.A. 3019. At Elrond's personal request, the 8124 year-old Falathrim agreed to become an addition to the Grey Company—an unlikely addition, but a welcome one just the same. The other rangers would often describe Hivallion as the Company's "soft touch", despite his frequently wielding a rather large staff.

Hivallion in Tûr Morva, Dunland: Mid-February, T.A. 3019. Uh oh, it looks like the elf has gotten himself into yet another pickle. But no worries—Tuffy the raven is on the case, ready to bring word of Hivallion's imminent capture to the other rangers, who would otherwise be left wondering why he and Lothrandir failed to show up for that night's campfire supper and sing-along.

Hivallion in the Depths of Isengard, Nan Curunír, Dunland: Mid-February, T.A. 3019. Here, the Falathrim endured a harrowing 56 hours serving Dinner Slop by the ladle-load and running a gauntlet of what we will politely call "errands" under the ever-leering eye of Morflak. Of course, things could always be worse—just look at poor Lothrandir (or at least, we will whenever we find him)...