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l0vedoe · 9 months ago

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Hello! I was wondering if you are up for a request. If so I was wondering if you could do something with a Yandere Lucifer(You can count this as a somewhat part 2 to your original Yandere Lucifer if y’a want) when he took us down to hell. I was think that he finds out that we can dance really well if we actually tried to(I feel like the little dance we did for him was just silly to make him leave) how would he react to that?

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZPR35fxHm/

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZPR35BGFM/

^here are some inspiration TikTok’s

I really enjoy your work keep it up!

I loved that! Sadly, I can't do anything happy with yandere Lucifer, but I hope that you like what I wrote! I changed the dance because I thought it wouldn't match the vibe of that fic, I hope you're okay with that!

Part 1 here!

Yandere!Lucifer X GN!Reader - Part 2

Words: 2181

Synopsis: Two weeks after being kidnapped by Lucifer, he notices that you're quite sad and decided to do something to cheer you up.

The only time you felt everything was all right was at night. At this time, Lucifer wasn't usually around, so you would sleep thinking that you weren't in hell, that it was all just a dream and that you would wake up soon in your bed, in your house.

You dreamt with your friends, your family, with your home, and everytime you woke up covered by those red blankets you felt a discomfort in your chest and your eyes filled with tears. It wasn't at all pleasant being stuck in hell. You know you hadn't died, but you didn't feel alive anymore.

Two weeks had passed since your arrival in hell, two weeks in which your life had changed abruptly without you having a choice.

You were fast asleep, dreaming of everything you wanted back, when suddenly something woke you up.

“Good morning, my love!” you hear a familiar voice. When you open your eyes, you notice Lucifer wearing his pajamas and holding a plate of pancakes, which he places on the dresser next to the bed.

It wasn't comforting seeing him as the first thing when you wake up.

You sit up, rubbing your eyes.

“Did you sleep well?” Lucifer asks, kissing your forehead and sitting next to you on the bed. You don't answer him. “I made pancakes, they're delicious! You have to try them!”

Lucifer takes one of the pancakes and eats it. You weren't making eye contact with him and he noticed, worried.

“What happened, dear?” He holds your hand. “It's been a while since I last saw your smile. Is something bothering you?"

How ridiculous. How couldn't he notice he was the one bothering you? He was the one who was ruining your life, depriving you of everything and not giving you freedom.

You sigh.

“It's nothing”.

He kept looking at you with worry in his eyes. He snapped his finger, a light bulb went off in his head, looking like he had an idea. A smile appears on his face.

“I know what can cheer you up.” he stands up, extremely excited. “Eat your breakfast, get yourself ready and come to the dancing room!”

Without you being able to answer, he ran out of the room.

You weren't in the mood to eat and get out of bed. You just wanted to get under the blankets and stay there, quietly, without anyone bothering you. You just wanted to be alone.

You took a deep breath and finally did what Lucifer asked you. You ate, changed your clothes and headed to the dancing room. When you entered, you could see Lucifer humming softly as he walked around the room.

Your breathing quickens when he notices you.

“Honey, right on time!” He approaches, hugging you. You don't hug him back. He lets go of you and walks over to a table in the corner of the room. “Come on, I've prepared everything!”

“Everything…?”

You ask, slowly walking towards him.

“The music!” He answers, touching a stereo on the table.

Music? What did he want now?

“Let's dance a bit, shall we? I think it might cheer you up! When you danced dressed as a duckling it was so cute, I loved it! But I want to see how you deal with something that is not so silly."

You arch your eyebrows. Why didn't he ask you if you wanted to do that? He always did that and you always got mad at it. He brought you stuff that you never asked for, he made you do things that you didn't want to. He never really cared for doing something that you liked to do. It was always about him, everyday was just him.

“I don't wanna dance.” You say in a low voice. You didn't even have strength to speak like you used to.

“Oh…” Lucifer gets discouraged. “But what do you want then, my love? We could watch something together, or cook together, or I can show you my new inventions! You know, I made a rubber duck that can–”

“I don't want any of those things!” You raise your voice, making the blonde startle and stop talking. “I wanna go home, I wanna see my friends, I want my life back…”

Your eyes filled with tears, the sensation of your throat closing and the discomfort in your chest showed the first signs before you could collapse crying.

For a moment, Lucifer had an annoyed expression on his face, but it soon softened and his eyes began to convey empathy. He approached you and held your face, rubbing your cheek with his thumb. He was looking at you with a comforting smile.

“My love, I hate seeing you like this…” he says, you still don't look at him. “How about that: we dance a little bit and, after that, I’ll let you see your friends. What do you think?

You look incredulously at Lucifer. Was he really serious? You could see your friends again?

You were so happy you couldn't believe that was really happening. You were so happy that you could hug Lucifer if it weren't for everything he did to you.

“Everything he did…”

No, it couldn't be true. Lucifer kidnapped you, kept you in his house and whenever you tried to escape he would left you locked up in a room without windows for hours. He wouldn't let you have any contact with the world outside, your life was just about pleasing Lucifer, talking to Lucifer and staying with Lucifer. Your life was Lucifer. Knowing him, he would never let you see your friends again.

But then, why did he said he would? What did he want, anyway? Test your loyalty to him?

You didn't know what his intention was, but you decided to believe in his words for now. He could be telling the truth, maybe he was sorry?

“Would you really do that…?” You ask, fearful.

Lucifer nods his head, still smiling.

“But you have to dance with me!”

You think about it again. If he was telling the truth, all you had to do was dance a bit with Lucifer and you could see your friends again, right? They should be worried by now, and maybe Lesley would know how to get you out of here…

Whether it was true or not, you didn't know, but you decided to try.

“All right.” you say after a long sigh. “What do you wanna dance?”

“Oh, I have so many ideas!” Lucifer goes back to the table, you follow him. “Can you dance anything other than silly dances?"

“Actually, I have done dance classes since I was a kid…” you say.

Your parents had put you in a lot of dance classes, and you grew up loving it, but after moving from your parent's house you stopped dancing often. You were a bit rusty, but it would work. It had to.

“That's great! So, how about we dance something romantic?” Lucifer asks. You could feel his flirty aura.

You nod.

Lucifer, then, puts music on the stereo and slowly approaches you with a smile. He holds your left hand, while his other hand rests on your shoulder. Your free hand was now holding Lucifer's waist. He was smaller than you, there wasn't much way to change the roles.

Lucifer didn't take his eyes off of you for a second as you two slowly danced around the room. You two were completely silent, just feeling the music and letting yourselves go, and he couldn't take his eyes off of you.

You felt uncomfortable, Lucifer always looked at you intensely, sometimes looking like he was eating you with his eyes. It was weird and most of the time you looked away, but even doing that you could feel the blonde still staring at you, and even without looking at his face, you could tell exactly when he was smiling or not.

As soon as the song ended, along with your dance, Lucifer pulled you closer. His hands held your face, and finally he pulled you for a kiss.

It wasn't everytime that you two kissed, fortunately, but whenever it happened you could feel like you were going to throw up at any moment. Lucifer tried to use his tongue with you a lot of times, but you never let him and used the excuse that you weren't ready.

It was disgusting to feel the lips of someone who didn't really cared about you.

When he stopped, you could see his red cheeks and his eyes glowing. His gaze oscillated between your eyes and your lips.

“So…” you start. “Can I–”

“I want just one more thing.” Lucifer interrupts you. You look at him curiously. “Dance for me. It can be any dance, any song, just dance for me again. Please?"

If that's what it takes to have a chance of escaping this (literally) hell, you'll do it.

You shake your head positively and go to the music player to choose a song. It was hard to choose something like that, without even having an idea of what to choose.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, remembering when you used to dance to your parents, when you used to be alone in your room and convey your emotions through your dances. That’s it. You would use your dancing to vent again.

As soon as you've chosen the music, you get ready to start.

When the song starts, your eyes close and you let yourself be carried away by the music.

Good times for a change

Seems the luck I’ve had can make a good man turn bad

Being able to dance like this was like flying, flying in a blue sky being free to go wherever you wanted. Every second, every step you took and every turn of your body you could feel yourself free again. You weren't a prisoner in hell anymore, you were in a flowery field, feeling the breeze and breathing the fresh air.

Haven't had a dream in a long time

Seems the life I’ve had can make a good man bad

Your hands touched your chest and softened, falling beside your body, as if that simple move could take away all the weight that was inside you.

So for once in my life let me get what I want

Lord knows, it would be the first time

Your mind goes blank, and even a smile begins to appear on your face. Your expression was soft, just like your movements.

Please, please, please

Let me get what I want

All your pain had dissipated at that moment, and what remained was an intense feeling of floating.

Let me, let me, let me

Let me get what I want this time

The song ended along with your dance, leaving you with your head tilted back. You open your eyes, noticing the dark ceiling above you, making that feeling of floating disappear in a few seconds as you remembered your current situation.

As you returned to your normal posture, you looked forward just to find Lucifer, who was standing there staring at you in amazement. His eyes were shining in admiration, his mouth was ajar and his cheeks were rosy. Lucifer seemed to have been intensely touched by your dance.

“So…?” You ask, nervously.

Lucifer runs to hug you.

“I loved it! You danced so well, my sweetie, you were feeling the music and I was feeling you! You did so good, my love…” he smiles, caressing your face once more.

“Thank you…” you say. “So…can I see my friends now?”

You ask, nervousness consuming you even more when you hear Lucifer let out a laugh.

“D-did you really believe it…?” He asks between soft laughs. Your eyes widened, your head shaking wanting to deny what you’ve just heard. He couldn't be serious. “I'm not stupid, love, I know you would try to run away from me…"

Your eyes fill with tears, an even greater feeling of suffocation consumes you and you break down crying, sobbing. You fell to your knees, you were breathing fast and crying loudly, hugging yourself in search of comfort.

Lucifer knelt down, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“I can't risk losing you, you're everything I have…” Lucifer smiles, caressing your shoulder. He pulls your chin, making you look at him. “I can't risk losing you, did you understand? I’ve already lost someone important once, and I won't let that happen again."

He kisses you again, making you cry even more. He hugs you tightly, stroking your hair.

You keep hugging yourself, the pain in your chest getting worse and worse, your sobs getting louder, your thoughts getting darker and blurrier. The life you once had was now in the past, and you would never have it again, never, and that hurt so much, so much... Lucifer's words seemed to have woken you up to reality, making you realise that it really was impossible to free yourself from the chains that bound you, and that your destiny now was to stay here, with him, forever.

Well, that's it! I hope you all liked!

I guess I won't be doing more chapters to this fic, and I won't do Yandere!Lucifer anymore either

I feel bad lol, he's just a baby, he would never that

So, if you guys wanna request something other than that with Lucifer, you can!

Thank you so much for your support!! <3

#hazbin hotel lucifer #yandere lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel x reader #gn reader #hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar x reader

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alienoresimagines · 5 months ago

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I wish you would write a fic (canon era, modern au, any setting really) where Buck is sick and Bucky fusses over him. Maybe with Buck’s head in Bucky’s lap?

I loved your fic of Bucky watching Buck sleep, so anything with that type of vibe? ❤️

I don't know the difference between a snippet and an actual fic so this is 1.4k 😅 But hey, Gale's awake for this one! Thank you so much for this inspiring ask, I've been writing angst for a week so going back to fluff felt really good 🥰❤️ Featuring : A sick Gale and a worrywart Bucky Also on AO3 Find my other Mota fics here

"Do you need anything ? Blanket ? Water ?" His hands hover over Gale's shivering form but the other weakly bats his hand away when John reaches out to check his fever.

"M'fine, Bucky." Gale's usual deep voice is now raspy and hoarse from too much coughing and Bucky winces in sympathy, knowing how much just saying those few words must've hurt. It also happens to be one of the biggest lies he's ever heard, on the top of his list with Buck's other countless "I'm fine"s he's heard since meeting the other. Bucky's only slightly exasperated.

"Like hell you are." He grumbles unhappily but fondness rounds the edge of every word as he fusses with the army issued blankets until only two unimpressed, slightly hazy with fever, blue eyes could be seen above the green fabric. John has to physically suppress a coo at the sight, sure it wouldn't be welcome, and very much not in the mood to wrestle Gale back in bed a second time.

He's honestly surprised the other held on for as long as he did considering the entire 100th had fallen victim to a nasty cold in the past two weeks, even Bucky himself. Buck had nursed him back to health and despite the pounding headache he remembers, John had enjoyed every minute of it. He would've enjoyed it a lot more though, if this stubborn sweetheart of a man hadn't also decided to take as much of a workload as he could while the rest of them were bedridden, disregarding any signs of his own degrading health.

A hand pulls on his sleeve until he sits on the edge of the bunk, the heat from Gale's body warming his side even through two blankets. Those pills better kick in soon or John might just die from worry. Over a damn cold.

Well, that's not exactly true. Even if the depth of his feelings for Gale still scares him absolutely shitless, he's past the shameful stage of denial. A mere small splinter would be enough to have him worried sick if it was in Gale's finger. But, he considers, maybe he went a bit overboard when he tucked Gale in with all the blankets available. Perhaps just four would be enough... which is why he lets Gale, although unhappily, drop some of the blankets on the bunk next to him. His mouth opens then closes with a click at Buck's glare.

Three blankets it was.

Gale settles again under the remaining covers, graciously letting John adjust them until his neck is covered. His lips, despite being chapped and not as pink as usual, still look so inviting that Bucky has to physically stop himself from pressing his own lips to Buck's. Three days he's been deprived of Gale's kisses and he has never wanted anything more in his life - except for Gale himself. During the two days he was sick, Buck had imposed a no-kissing-on-the-lips rule, much to his own chagrin but he respected Gale's boundary and need for cleanliness. Besides, it's not like he wanted to get Gale sick. And today, on the day he'd been longingly awaiting for 48 endless hours, Buck himself was sick and would refuse Bucky's kisses, he knows. It doesn't stop him from gazing mournfully at those plump lips.

"I was really looking forward to those kisses." He whines dramatically in a defeated sigh, a pang of fondness in his chest at Buck's own saddened eyes. He hasn't been alone in his longing, and the thought sends warmth through his body. Yet, coldness courses through him as he watches guilt overcome sadness when Gale turns his head sideways to avoid looking at him.

"M'sorry." All theatrics forgotten, a frown crosses his face immediately. He leans closer to Buck's face, gently sweeping his hair of his forehead and then cupping his flushed cheek to stroke over a high cheekbone until Gale looks at him.

"Hey, Buck. Listen to me." With his thumb, he tenderly frees Gale's bottom lip from the cage of his teeth. "You've got nothing to be sorry for. Damn cold got everyone, it's no surprise it'd get you too. Nothing shameful 'bout that, okay?"

Later, when the other isn't as miserable as now, John will grouch to him about working himself to the bone instead of going to see Smokey as soon as he’d started feeling bad. Later, he'll make Gale promise to come to him too, if he doesn't feel like talking to their flight surgeon.

The thing is, Gale is John's safe place. With him, he doesn't have to worry about talking too much, touching too much -as much as he could in public- being too much. He just wishes Gale would allow John to be his safe place too. And he knows that Gale allowing him to see that vulnerable side of his is already a huge show of trust. But he wants Gale to trust him not only to catch him when he falls but also to lean on him when he misses a step or falters just a bit.

For now though, he accepts the small nod he gets and relishes in the soft, barely there up of the corners of his lips, which blooms into a sweet smile when Bucky leans down to press a kiss to his forehead.

"As soon as you're back on your feet, I'm kissing you 'till you push me away." He promises against the too-warm skin of Buck's forehead before pulling back and grinning down at him. Gale looks amused, if a bit tired, but the light in his eyes is one of amused defiance. Even if he doesn't speak, Bucky hears him anyway and it sends thrills of anticipation down his spine. Just a few days more.

There's a moment of silence as John mindlessly plays with sweaty golden strands until Buck blinks slow and long and Gale's warm hand slips into his under the blanket. He has to bite his lips to keep the dopey smile from his face but he does stroke his thumb back and forth the expanse of Gale's knuckles. Shivers still wrack his form, though they did subside a bit compared to minutes ago. It's not nearly enough for Bucky.

"You sure I can't get you anything ?" Buck audibly groans as he opens his eyes just enough to show Bucky just how hard he's rolling his eyes and John snickers sheepishly. He raises the hand not in Gale's soft grip in mock surrender, the amused glint in sky-blue eyes only spurring him on.

"Sorry, sorry. But really, do you need anything ?" Gale licks his lips once and oh, John knows that look. It's as adorable as it makes his heart ache, the way Gale doesn't look him in the eyes. He thinks of a young boy, barely knee tall, not daring to ask his father anything and imperceptibly clenches his jaw. Softly squeezing Buck's hand in his, he smiles encouragingly when the other faces him.

"Anything, Gale." Tired eyes look at him for a moment, searching for something but John isn't sure what. He keeps his face open, knowing perfectly well there's no way he could hide how he feels about the other man when no one is around. Gale must find whatever he's looking for because he bites his lip slightly, seemingly pleased and content, if a little shy.

John is keeping a tally of how many kisses he's been robbed of.

Minutely, Gale starts scooting over and John huffs a laugh but obediently sits in the spot just vacated, back leaning on the metal headboard. He's barely put his legs on the blankets that Gale immediately presses in close to rest his head on John's lap like a cat pressing his head on his hand until he gets pets.

Bucky might just die of adoration for this sweet, sweet man he's blessed to call his.

He's half convinced the other will start purring when he strokes his fingers through his hair, nails slightly scratching at his scalp like he knows Buck likes but Gale only presses even closer to him until his body is one hot line against John's leg, a happy hum leaving him. He's asleep in one minute flat, face buried in Bucky's lap as the latter keeps playing with his hair, eyes not leaving the even rise and fall of his back.

John's so, so in love that he wonders how he ever thought he wasn't Gale's safe place just as much as Gale was his.

#clegan #buck x bucky #buck squared #mota fic #john egan #gale cleven #buck cleven #bucky egan #ali writes

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novelizt · 1 year ago

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I CAN BUILD A CASTLE OUT OF ALL THE BRICKS THEY THROW AT ME ☁︎ ANTHONY LOCKWOOD

GENRE ➺ angst + fluff, fake relationship

SYNOPSIS ➺ you recruit the daring anthony lockwood to stage a relationship that will rile up the press and give his company publicity.

WC ➺ 10.9k

DISCLAIMER ➺ actress! reader. the fic also sings the "all these people think love's for show, but I would die for you in secret" beat. lockwood calls reader "darling" and "starlet" because... you'll read why. i'm not sure if The Daily Gazette is a real thing. if it is, i mean no slander — this is merely fiction and I needed a publication name.

NOTE ➺ this is for the oldest/only child who takes on a lot for their family — i see you. also, imagine the nick-priyanka chair pull; i like to think that it's lockwood and darling in a nutshell. my ideas were all over the place so this came out a bit messier than i anticipated, but it is lockwood content so i hope you enjoy! especially you, @t2sh0 !!

They say the brightest stars are the ones that burn out first. That was probably what the gazette was counting on, at least.

Ever since you stepped into the limelight, and shortly earned the title of London's Darling, they made a dime a dozen in making your business their business. They would sing your name to high praise one moment then drag it through the mud the next.

You were content with letting them run their mouths, because it was no skin off your nose, but you drew the line at insulting your family.

Someone at the gazette thought it would be absolutely riveting to write about the dirt poor origins you were raised from. In the article, they not only criticized you, but put your parents under a microscope as well.

"All that really happened is, their daughter put on diamonds and called herself a queen," the Daily Gazette said. "It's only about time until they return to their roots—of which aren't much."

They insinuated that you might not even be your father's daughter—or if you were, it wouldn't be long 'til you came out to be as ill as he was. They called your mother weak for not being as proacticve in generating money, and you a fool for being their lapdog. No one in their right mind would just sit and let a publication sully their name like that.

If they were going to make up hullabaloo, you were going to step ahead and give them something else to talk about, and what better play than having London's Darling Starlet fall in love?

It had came to your attention that the gazette had set their eyes on one agency in particular: Lockwood and Company. Specifically one, Anthony Lockwood.

Where they besmirched your name, they glorified his. The kid was talented at weaving through a conversation, you'd give him that. From what you'd read, you already knew he liked being in the glare of publicity.

You were taking a gamble when you walked right up to their statute of work without a disguise. If the someone at the gazette saw you, you hoped that they would get the ball rolling. All that would be left to do is recruit Mr. Lockwood.

But Lockwood hadn't been the one to greet you at the door. You tried not to appear too shocked, but no one really expects to see someone geared in oversized cleaning gear. Whoever it was looked more alien than human.

"Arif's?" the curly haired boy inquired.

You were tempted to scratch your head, because what in the world was an 'Arifs'?

You were conjuring up a response, but then the boy was shoved aside. The girl who had taken his placed looked both inquisitive and sleep-deprived at the same time. Some kind of recognition happened in her eyes and you smiled, mirroring hers.

The curly haired boy looked positively disturbed by it.

"Hello," you said delicately. "does Mr. Lockwood happen to be in at the moment?"

"He is," the girl said. "You must be the Darling of London. I've seen you in the papers. My friend, Norrie, would be so happy if you could—"

"Luce?"

You weren't usually struck by strangers but you knew right away, that it must be him: Anthony Lockwood. He had the timbre and tone of a well-trained celebrity. It was no wonder the gazette was tripping over themselves to write him.

"Lucy's busy smiling at the Darling of London, or whatever she called her," the curly-haired boy reported, akin to a child who wanted to see their sibling be scolded.

"George," Lockwood turned his attention with a terse intonation. "why don't you pop on the kettle?"

George's smirk fell. He muttered something at Lucy before retreating to the door beside the stairwell. The wide berth he left gave you your first glimpse of the gazette's most recent favorite.

Anthony Lockwood was a spectacle in a suit and tie, looking exactly like his pictures in the papers. He cleaned up nicely enough. You just couldn't help but wince at the disarray his hair was in.

"Lucy, will you please?" Lockwood gave Lucy a look. She cast a glance at you before hesitantly joining George in the kitchen.

You made a mental note to ask about her friend, Norrie, later. It's the least you could do for her saving you from George.

As soon as the door closed behind her, Lockwood turned his attention back to you. He leaned easily against the doorframe, giving off the impression that he was conversational enough, even if you weren't being very good at being polite.

"Welcome to Lockwood and Co., I'm Anthony Lockwood," he said courteously, flashing a smile that would make the press go crazy. You've seen just one like it on cast mates, but he had done it so well you know he'd practiced to get it perfect, or maybe he was naturally good at smiling. You wouldn't know. His voice waded through your reverie. "How can we help you?"

"The kind of help I need isn't a usual request, Mr. Lockwood," you said forwardly. You glanced over his shoulder before offering a chaste smile. "May I come in?"

—

You didn't expect an audience of three after being lead to the receiving room. Then again, you should have. The reasonable assumption was that you were here for ghost-related troubles. You weren't sure how to clarify that you weren't.

You accepted a cup of tea and took in the air in the room before proceeding. Lockwood was sat right across from you, attentively bent toward you. Lucy was trying to keep on a amiable façade in her seat (likely to get a signature for her friend). George was... being himself. He was an odd one, but he had rid himself of his space suit, so that was nice. None of them seemed to be hostile though. That was always a good thing.

"I have a personal favor to ask of you," you started. You rested your hands over your knees, retaining your resolution. "and it involves the recent rumors about me."

"Which one? The one about your prissy attitude or the inevitable downfall of your entire family?" George wasn't as ignorant as he made himself out to be. He took a sip of tea when Lucy glared his way. Lockwood didn't look too surprised by his snide, George must regularly be like this.

You stifled a laugh of your own, amused by his forward nature. "Both, to be honest. The gazette has been generous with their slander lately." You tapped your finger on your knee. "One can only take so much . . . That's what brought me here. I need your help to keep them under control. You'll be properly compensated, of course."

"Miss Darling—" Lockwood started. It wasn't your name but you let it be since he sounded genuine enough. "—we are a psychical agency. What you're asking, it's out of our area of expertise."

"I am aware of that, but I'm not making this request to Lockwood & Co.," you said firmly. You steeled yourself when you set your eyes on him. He flinched under the intensity. "I'm asking you directly, Mr. Lockwood."

George hunched forward, unsuccessfully staunching a laugh. Lucy had straightened in her seat, eyes bugged out of her head. And Lockwood? The surprise on his face couldn't have been fake. He blinked and blinked, but his brain couldn't catch up.

You went on. "My family's been involved. I can't sit idly by while their names are being tarnished. I need something to dissolve those rumors, or at least distract the public enough to forget about them."

He cleared his throat but it was clear he was still ruffled by your earlier admission. "And how would I contribute to that?"

You tried to sound professional, but even your most prim tone sounded odd when it came to a request like this. "I need you to court me."

George stopped trying to muffle his laughter. He even grew bold enough to take a biscuit to snack on. "This is rich. 'Court' and 'Lockwood' in the same sentence? Never thought I'd see the day. You're better off with someone like Quill Kipps, Miss Darling—was it? At least he can act."

Lockwood shot a glare at George but he didn't budge, smiling as he devoured his biscuit. Lucy had recovered and gave her two cents. "George is right. Lockwood doesn't have the best track record in terms of subtlety."

Lockwood looked affronted. "I'm not as bad as you make me out to be."

"You're right," George said gleefully, smiling at you with his eyes. "He's worse."

"You know what," Lockwood said with renewed inspiration. "I'll help you, Miss Darling. Regardless of what my colleagues have to say." He turned his attention to you. You almost cracked a smile at the sheer determination in his complexion. Anthony Lockwood clearly despised being bad at anything. "I'm at your service, starting this very second." He poked the table to enunciate every word. Amused didn't feel like an apt word to describe what you were feeling.

"I was hoping you'd be the opposite of subtle," you said with a polite smile. "You're an enigma to the gazette, Mr. Lockwood. I need you to attract as much attention to us as you can."

He lifted his chin with that award-winning smile. "Consider it done."

George was still grinning to himself, finishing off his biscuit with a dodgy sort of laugh. Lucy had thrown herself back, likely holding in a sigh by the way her shoulders sunk.

Regardless, you felt hope rush through you as you reached across the table, sealing the deal with a handshake that shouldn't have been half as memorable as it was.

—

Lucy's Norrie had set off the domino effect, and you would be forever grateful for it. It didn't take long for the gazette to catch wind and write up their narrative.

!! LOCKWOOD & CO.'S SPECIAL CONNECTION TO LONDON'S DARLING

Recipients, it has come to our attention that London's Darling has shipped out a special signed poster for a friend from Lockwood & Co. The two parties have never had an interaction prior to this instance. We suspect a budding alliance from two very distinct worlds. More about Lockwood & Co.'s most recent escapade on page 7!

It was the first time you finished reading an article without your jaw tensing. It was doing well for your family's temperaments as well. Your mother was now inquiring about the blooming relationship between you and a certain someone instead of agonizing over the manic rumors told about the family. Whenever asked, you feigned ignorance and left the conversation at that.

—

The next time the gazette wrote about London's Darling and Lockwood & Co., it had been about a genuine act of kindness that had been caught on camera.

The trio had finished up a case late in the morning and you dropped by to gift them a hearty breakfast. You didn't intend for the gazette to pick up on the minute interaction, but they always found ways to weasel their way into things. If you didn't despise them so, you would have given them credit for their tenacity.

!! LONDON'S DARLING NOW BECOMING THE DARLING OF LOCKWOOD & CO.

Recipients, an insider recounts the story of seeing our Darling at 35 Portland Row. Coincidentally, the official offices for the psychical agency, Lockwood & Co. She narrates that the starlet had hand-delivered doughnuts and some other necessities; Actively taking time out of her bustling schedule to tend to the operatives she has recently befriended. For the first time since her limelight debut, she has a heart! Our insider also notes a particularly bright smile from the agency's founder and boss, Anthony Lockwood. Is this another one of our Darling's summer flings? See page 4 for news about Darling's controversial role in unveiled coming-of-age film.

You saw a couple reading the recent print as you were walking to Portland Row. They were particularly giggly, so it was safe to assume that the public was falling for your theatrics.

You arrived to Lockwood's abode with a smile.

—

"The gazette's gone feral, haven't they?" George exasperated, throwing the paper on the table after he had cut out Lockwood & Co's bit in the headlines. "You didn't even have to try for this one, did you?"

"Not at all," you chuckled. "They have a way of finding out, even if we don't mean for them to."

"They could have chosen a better picture," Lockwood murmured, eyes permanently narrowed at the cut-out George had hung on their wall. "I did not look that worn out that morning."

"I can't remember it, so I can't lie," Lucy said passively. She slid a pot of tamarind soup through the disarray of cups and papers. It gave you a wider glimpse of the doodles on the cloth. Lockwood had explained the nuance of the doodles earlier. You strongly believed anyone would find the scrawled notes (and insults) endearing.

You leaned over the table as the fragrance of the soup wafted into the air, like tendrils of smoke tempting you for a taste. You held back a smile and tried not to stare at their dinner for too long. You had more self-control than that, but, despite your best efforts, your stomach had a mind of its own.

Your stomach didn't usually rumble but it had chosen that specific moment to do so. You tried to play it off but the members of Lockwood & Co. had already paused in their steps, turning to you with varying levels of surprise. George looked disturbed; Lucy, startled; and Lockwood, amused.

"Hungry?" Lockwood asked, already knowing the answer.

"Not at all," you waved off. He saw right through your stoicism with a growing smile. "It was just a stomach cramp," you insisted.

He didn't move his eyes away from you as he pulled out a chair, but didn't sit in it. "Can't send you home with your belly doing that, can we, George?"

"The gazette might as well write us up for being terrible hosts," George said agreeably.

Lucy set out an additional plate and bowl. "We have a reputation to uphold, you know."

There was an air of something you couldn't quite place. You saw Lockwood's smile first, amused and welcoming all at once. From the corner of your eye, you found George and Lucy doing the same. There was no other word that could describe the moment other than 'warm'. With a feeble smile, you sat in the chair Lockwood had pulled out for you and tried not to look like a mangy raccoon in the midst of a famine.

Only when the sound of clinking cutlery and plates filled the room did you muster the courage to speak again. "Thank you for having me."

"Don't mention it, Starlet," Lockwood said, nudging your side. "You're the reason our clients have been burgeoning lately."

"Who knew a movie star had so much influence?" George asked rhetorically. "If we keep this up, we might be able to afford more biscuits."

"Even if that happens, the biscuit rule stays," Lucy stated, pointing her spoon at George.

There was always something gleefully odd about this place. Sometimes, it was hard to keep up. "What is this biscuit rule?" you asked, looking between all three of them.

"I'll tell you after dinner," Lockwood promised, carefully placing a bowl of soup next to your plate. "Eat. You must be starving."

You withheld the urge to smile but found that, even with your experties in pretending, you had a hard time acting in the company of Lockwood and Co.

—

"How strict is the biscuit rule rotation?" you inquired Lucy.

You had never experienced sleeping over at someone else's house. Doing so, at your mature age, felt a little zany. Not that you could do much about it.

The expert (Anthony John Lockwood) was firm about not letting you walk home at this dark hour. Even more so because the sun had set earlier than expected. Hence, the reason you found yourself rooming with Lucy for the night.

"Strict," was Lucy's answer; half with you, half not. She was at the vanity, writing in a journal. Likely for her friend, Norrie—if their names scribbled on the front was anything to go by. She looked so focused, you would have guessed she was aspiring to out-write the folks at the Daily Gazette.

Defeated, you heaved a sigh and submitted yourself to a few moments of quiet in a place so unfamiliar.

The bed bounced under your weight. The springs you heard in the mattress reminded of you of home, yet, the stars on the ceiling reminded you that you weren't. Most of them clung on but some had fallen off, leaving behind star-shaped irregularities in the paint. You counted four fallen stars before you were reeled back by the feeling of another weight falling beside you.

"Comfortable, Miss Darling?"

Lockwood.

You righted your posture. He sat up with you, taken-aback by your shift in demeanor.

"Yes," you said stiffly, combing down your hair. "Thank you for letting me stay the night."

"I couldn't let you go in good conscience," he said offhandedly. "Don't be tense. I'm only here to offer pajamas."

Your eyes found the neat pile stacked right beside him. The little act of kindness had warranted him a smile, one he returned with equal sheepishness.

"Thank you," you said again.

"It's no trouble." He flourished his hand as he said it. The springs creaked again when he shuffled off the bed. "Sleep well, Miss Darling."

"My name or just 'Darling' is fine, Mr. Lockwood. 'Miss' is much too formal."

"It's Anthony then, darling." He said it with such resounding charm, you almost regret allowing him to continue on that way. "Sleep well," he trailed off.

He stared at you, like he was looking for something in you. You were accustomed to getting weird, prolonged glances in the street, but you felt conscious when it was him. You blamed it on First Sleep-over Jitters. When you finally averted your gaze, he snapped out of his reverie. With a noncommital smile, he jerked a thumb at the door. "I'm right downstairs if you need anything."

"I'll keep that in mind, Anthony." As you said it, you couldn't shake the feeling similar to stepping into a classroom for the first time. There was a flash of surprise on his face before he schooled his expression, back to his notorious smile.

You wouldn't have known, but he couldn't shake the thought that he'd never heard his name sound so nice before.

He held back a smile as he said, "Goodnight then, darling."

You did worse at hiding yours. "Goodnight, Anthony."

You said his name so carefully, he ought to think he was important. Even if the smiles exchanged were bashful, it encapsulated his world.

He retreated to the steps, halting to occasionally look at you before Lucy had gotten sick of his snail pace and told him to bugger off. She had taken her side of the bed when her journal entry for Norrie was finished.

"Is he always that odd?" you asked her, taking the pajamas and heading to the bathroom to change.

The clothes were light, but they weighed much more to you. Who could blame you for admiring a simple shirt and pajama pants? That was your first sleep-over, after all.

Past your ogling, you could still hear Lucy's voice through the door. "Who, Lockwood? Not usually. Suppose he wants to make a good impression."

"Because I'm your highest paying client?" you inquired in a sing-song tone, slipping the shirt over your head. You should have expected the smell of lavender to engulf you.

Lucy snorted, laying back on her pillows. "Because he's a fan, Miss Darling."

"You can call me by my name, Ms. Carlyle," you chuckled, trying to keep your tone even as you examine which way the pajama pants go.

"And you can call me by mine, Miss Darling," she retorted.

When you got your pajama situation under control, you poked your head out of he door. "Touché, Lucy."

She tipped her invisible hat. "I try, Miss Darling."

"Is my name ugly?" You questioned, tone bordering on a sigh. You set yourself down on the vacant side of her bed, planting straight into the pillow on contact. "Just tell me that it is, I won't be offended. Why else would people avoid it like the plague?"

"Miss Darling does sound odd, doesn't it? In my opinion, it's quite regal. You should change your surname to it, honestly. The word just fits you."

You exhaled, catching sight of the stars on the ceiling once more. "And who gave you that absurd idea?"

"Lockwood did," she told you, taking you by surprise. You physically reeled at the fact. "He watched—What was the name of that film again?—Timeless. You played the teenage version of the main character. He wouldn't shut up about the movie for ages, said your character was his favorite. I believe her name was—"

"Darling..." you whispered the same time she said it.

"—and he kept going on and on and on about how you were the epitome of the word. He wouldn't put a stopper on it," Lucy shook her head, recalling his raving vividly. "We couldn't get him to shut up, even while we were off on fieldwork. Eventually, it stuck with us. I couldn't unsee you as 'Miss Darling'. Then the press started calling you 'The Darling of London'. It only proved his case. If there was a word more fitting than 'insufferable', 'Lockwood' would be it."

You believed snorting was the only correct response to that.

"I'm surprised he hasn't fallen over himself trying to impress you," she chuckled. Lucy crossed her arms over her belly, cozying up to her pillow. "Don't tell him I told you though. He might take away my turn in the biscuit rotation. He can be petty like that."

"Sounds childish," you muttered.

"I wouldn't put it past him," Lucy said with a shrug. "He already thinks he's God's gift."

"He's in the good graces of the Daily Gazette. So, he's close enough to it for me," you chuckled.

"Only you would think that." Lucy shook her head. "Go to sleep, Miss Darling. Else you'll have nightmares 'bout him."

"Is that a real warning?"

Lucy shut off the lights. "Yes," she said into the dark.

It was far too late for you. Just seeing the gentle limerence on the ceiling brought your thoughts right back to him.

Unbeknownst to you, Lockwood couldn't put his mind to rest either. Him knowing you were just a stairwell away was an involuntary shot of adrenaline.

—

Amusement parks smelt like burned popcorn and sugar. It was unbearably noisy but the neon lights and the shining attractions negated the cons. Lockwood thought he might just kiss you for bringing them here on a Thursday.

There were enough people to make the place feel alive but it wasn't so crowded that they couldn't get on the rides they wanted to try.

He namely appreciated that fact because Lucy and George didn't look too upset about being out of their element. They looked excited, even. Lucy was glancing at a shooting game and George was oddly fascinated by the horror house.

As if driving them here wasn't surprise enough, you dropped a heavy pouch in each of their palms with the simple instruction to knock themselves out.

After agreeing to meet up before dark, the group broke into three. Lucy went off to win herself a rapier, George was off to scare the clowns in the horror house, and Lockwood was trailing behind you.

"You can do your own thing, Anthony," you reassured, lined up for cotton candy. "I can handle myself in daylight."

"Darling, I'm a gentleman. I can't leave a dame alone in such a vast scape," he replied, bold enough to tap your nose. "What kind of make-believe boyfriend would I be if I did?"

He was amused by the way you rolled your eyes. Lockwood was convinced that only you could make something so trivial so enigmatic. Warmth prickled on your cheeks, turning them the same shade of pink as the cotton candy the store owner handed to you. You ordered one for Lockwood before telling him, "Press isn't here—they'd have to pay the tall entrance fee to enter. At ease, soldier."

"Negative. I'm staying by you—as a very concerned friend," he rebutted with resolve, asking for a brief pause to receive the cotton cone spun for him. "Is that so bad?"

"I thought you three deserved to enjoy some time away from work," you confessed.

You didn't know where to head so Lockwood steered you toward a bench, guiding you with one hand on the small of your back. It took all your effort to keep your expression neutral but you continued to chatter, biting down the urge to grin like an idiot.

The only way you knew how to distract yourself was to speak. And speak, you did. "You're either working with ghouls or with me for you know what. I thought you'd be sick of me by now," you joked.

"Of you? Never."

He said it like it wasn't an arrow straight to your heart, and you couldn't shirk the feeling that you should have prepared yourself better. He was Anthony Lockwood, after all.

Like the heathen he is, took a sizeable bite out of his fluff of cotton candy. In your favor, your attention was drawn somewhere else. His upper lip was crusted in princess pink sugar and he was flashing his princely smile, completely unaware of his mustache. You pressed your lips together to keep your laugh in.

He lowered his head, trying to meet your eyes, to no avail. You screwed them shut and curled into yourself to keep your composure.

He cocked a brow. "Cute as you are, I want to know what are you laughing about."

"Nothing," you said unconvincingly. You took a glance at him and snorted.

With a pinched expression, he looked at himself in the reflection of a metal stall then he rubbed the sugar away with the sleeve of his coat, scarlet tinging his ears.

"Never speak of this," he told you.

You mimed yourself zipping your lips and he nodded, satisfied.

Your composure broke the moment he crossed his arms and hunched into himself like a kid.

—

You'd been to that same amusement park many times in your life. You rode the same rides back when you were a starlet in the entertainment world. You won the same prizes when you wanted to impress your parents. You ate the same food you did when you were a tyke.

All those memories, and none of them compared to experiencing all of it with Anthony John Lockwood. His incandescence weaved into every new memory, leaving his face seared into the back of your eyelids. Even if you tried to deny it, the pain in your cheeks reminded you that you spend hours on end smiling with him or at him.

Despite your best efforts, his presence made you feel something you never expected to feel for anyone. There was no word for it, and you refused to give it a name.

When the sky theatened to turn orange, you snagged his arm and drove him all the way to your favorite ride. Even if you craned your neck all the way, you could never see the top of the ferris wheel. Perhaps Lockwood could, but you were too timid to ask.

The decorative lights looked weak in daylight but it was magical nonetheless. Nothing could complete your day like hopping into your favorite gondola and seeing the park from all the way up.

When you pulled him back, he had to complain. "That one was empty." Lockwood frowned at the dandy green gondola that circled past.

"No, no. We can't take that one, it has to be this one."

Lockwood had never seen so much excitement shine through your usually collected demeanor. It was like a breath of fresh air. He couldn't bring himself to fight you on it.

When the coral pink gondola swung to a stop and creaked its doors open, you pulled him right into its bowels. The interior was vandalized with countless pens and markers. Even in the chaos, he recognized your penmanship. It was messier than it was now but it was undeniably yours. Only you swooped your 'y's that extravagantly.

Someday soon, I'm going to be the biggest star you'll ever see!

Some of the ink was scratched off but the message stood the test of time. He wondered if you remember even writing it, but one glance at you told him all he needed to know. You paid no mind to the vandalism, eyes enthralled by the rising view outside. He felt his cheeks ache from the beginnings of a smile. He forced it down when you laid your eyes on him.

"Just wait 'til we reach the top. The pathways form a giant star if you look down. There's nothing quite like it."

Endeared, he asked, "How did you find that out?"

If your smile was anything to go by, the memory was very fond to you. "The first time I passed an audition, my parents took me up here and told me to look down. I was terrified of heights back then but they told me some things were worth conquering fears for." You let out a seraphic laugh at the memory. "I saw the giant star . . . and I swore that I'd be a bigger star than it one day; that all their sacrifices would be worth it. They did their best to support me and my pipe dream. I would pay back their labor, ten-fold."

"And you did," Lockwood said in an out-of-breath kind of way. You didn't know what to make of it.

"And I did," you whispered in reply. "I even scribbled my promise somewhere in here. I don't remember where exactly. May have been scratched off."

"Maybe," Lockwood chuckled, leaning his side against the wall; hiding your kiddish penmanship from your view. He had no explanation as to why he did, but he'd rather you to focus on the present. You achieved a lot between then and now. He thought it was much nicer to look forward than to look back.

He didn't realize how long the trip to the top would be. The silence didn't feel tense or forced, it was comfortable. Like an air of understanding had made the air warm instead of still.

Perhaps it was you and how unguarded you had become since stepping into the gondola, but all he knew was that your honest heart inspired him to be brave. He took a leap in a brightly painted gondola, miles up from the ground, just about to touch the clouds.

"My family would have loved seeing this," he said.

Your eyes tore away from the view to look at him. Curiosity whirling in those eyes of yours. "Where is your family? I don't think I've seen them. Are they abroad?"

When you looked at him like that, he forgot all his fears. "They aren't around anymore."

Your expression heartened. You turned all your attention to him. "I'm so sorry, Anthony. I shouldn't have—"

"No," he interrupted you, a ghost of a smile on his face. "I want you to know."

Your lips quivered, forming something that was a half-smile, half-frown. "I don't know what to say..."

"You don't have to say anything. I just thought you should know." His eyes fell to his knees, picking at the frays of his coat sleeves to distract himself. "My parents were researchers. They wanted to know what rituals other cultures had to communicate with spirits and keep themselves safe. They were working when they passed away. My sister, Jessica, she was ghost-touched." Everything came out when he was looking directly at you. Knowing you were paying attention was solace enough. "You should have seen the ghost when I was done with him, ha. As for my family . . . Even if they're not around anymore, they continue to remind me of the most valuable lessons. I do my best to never forget."

"Must be why you're so protective of Lucy and George," you said lightly, offering him a sunrise of a smile that brought back the color into the world.

"I am," he said with renewed confidence. "I'd do anything for them."

"Like make deals with prissy, troubled actresses?" you jested, bumping your knee against his.

His lips twitched, threatening a smile. "Yeah." He bumped his knee to yours but didn't move away, content with being close to you in any way you'd have him. "Exactly."

A smile crept up your face. "You have a wonderful family now, Anthony."

"I would say the same but I realize I haven't met them yet."

You threw your head back, laughing. The sound was so precious, he wished he had half the hearing of Lucy to remember it well. "Someday, Anthony. Someday..."

"I'll hold you to it."

The light that filtered in turned yellow, touching your face with gold. The sun was dipping between the far hills and, finally, your gondola had reached the pinnacle of the wheel.

You gently cupped his chin to turn his attention to the view. Your touch made his breath hitch, but the view had successfully stolen the air from his lungs. Even in his wildest dreams, he couldn't have predicted just how breath-taking the view was.

True to your word, the amusement park was laid out in a way that made the pathways draw a star—the stall lights that began to appear accentuated the shape. The stripped roofs of the attractions were like swirling patterns that encircled the the display. For lack of a better word, it was stupendous.

Your voice matched the sereneness of the moment. "My grandparents said that seeing fireworks from the top of a ferris wheel was an experience like no other, but with the Problem and the curfew, we might never be able to see something like it..."

"Wouldn't hurt to dream though, would it?"

You chuckled. "No, it wouldn't..."

Vaguely, in the reflection of the window, he saw your smile. A true, unfiltered smile. It's the brightest you'd ever appeared to him, and it was worlds better than the view you were gawking over.

The magic fizzled when the gondola began to decend, bringing you closer to earth and away from the utopia in the middle of a ferris wheel.

He couldn't recognize you once your mask came back on. Lockwood didn't realize why until he saw a flash of light in the corner of his eye.

The gazette had spilled coffee all over a perfectly good day.

—

!! LOCKWOOD'S DARLING

Recipients, we can confirm that there is a blooming romance between London's favorite Starlet and Lockwood & Co.'s charismatic leader. In the middle of a busy week for both individuals, they set aside time for a romantic ferris wheel ride in Starcrest Amusement Park—an ideal recreational venue for families and couples. See also: additional reports from our inside sources on page 7.

!! A DARLING'S DARLING

Recipients, we have more news on London's most fetching young couple. Both Darling and Lockwood have been growing bolder in putting their relationship in the spotlight. Recent reports state that Darling had invited Lockwood and Company to her film set — a feat of trust we haven't seen from her until she'd been swept of her feet by her latest and only suitor, Anthony Lockwood. He even presented her a bouquet of her favored flowers upon visiting. Backstage photographs from our insider on page 3!

!! A NOT VERY INVISIBLE STRING

Recipients, London's most captivating young couple was spotted wearing matching red-string bracelets, shifting to the 'private but not secret' path in their relationship. However, we always fetch you the ripest updates on their heart-stopping romance. More on page 4!

—

You were more than pleased by the sound of swishing newspaper and the snip of scissors. George had extracted another pretty picture of the recent news and hung it on the wall of achievements.

"Featured on a handful of headlines and it hasn't even been a year," Lockwood said, sounding very pleased with himself. He barely lifted a finger and Lockwood and Co. already had five additional clippings to their wall. "Gazette patrons are calling in to have us take care of visitors with all this media exposure." He set his hands on the stair newel and set his chin on them, looking up at you. It may have been a trick of a light but he was more radiant from where you were standing. "I have you to thank for that."

"You're the one helping me," you smiled. "I haven't heard a bad word about myself or my family. The peace is . . . unsettling. They really are bent on painting you as a saint, Anthony."

"Am I not?" he smiled.

You returned it, just as joyous. "That's the charisma I need for my birthday ball."

That made him straighten and grow brighter, if that were possible. "Birthday ball?"

You nodded, returning your eyes to Lockwood & Co.'s wall of accomplishments. "Lucy and George, too. It's a black tie event, and, yes, you may bring your rapiers."

He tilted his head, jarred. "What kind of people will be in attendance if we're allowed rapiers?"

"The most terrifying kind," you said with exaggerated dread, starting for the door. "Extended family I don't know well and journalists."

He sped ahead, clicking the door open for you. "Petrifying."

"Very," you chuckled. "Can I expect you to be there?"

He leaned toward you and you deluded yourself to believe he was doing so for his own benefit, but you knew damn well that there was a camera in the corner of your eye. Lockwood had caught sight of it before you, crowding you against the doorframe to paint the stomach-fluttering picture of a boy who simply couldn't resist being near his girl.

The idea was far more appealing than it was supposed to be.

His voice sounded saccharine up close. "What kind of flowers does your mother like?"

You titlted your head. "What for?"

"It's common courtesy to gift the in-laws. It wouldn't hurt to be prepared." He grinned at you, and you couldn't help but return it.

"She likes roses, and my dad is a fan of Ferrero Rochers."

"Noted," he chirped. He tugged a strand of your hair lightly before pulling away, taking his warmth with him.

You mustered a convincing enough smile. "Goodbye, Anthony."

"Goodbye, darling starlet."

He should have known you were going to do something. You grew up under the limelight, after all.

You've kissed many boys but he hoped you don't kiss them like you kissed him. Truthfully, it was only a kiss on the cheek, but he'd recall the feeling of your lips at the most untimely moments. He was ghost-touched because he couldn't shirk it.

—

You gave them a plot of the house. So, they did expect your house to be massive. What you did not tell them was the fact that your birthday ball was a masquerade ball. Lockwood was quite struck as he watched people file in with half their faces concealed under frivolously decorated masks. Lucy and George were just as confused.

"You're sure you didn't hear her say anything about this?" Lucy asked, hugging her arms as the evening chill began to creep in.

"Positively. Would I lie about something like this?" Lockwood replied, readjusting his grip on the generous bouquet of roses.

"Lie or not, we have to head in eventually. Unless your girl has a butler or handmaid who'd fetch us," George nipped. It was bad enough that Lockwood had forced him into a suit, but he had to stand in the freezing cold while passerbys walked right into the grandeur of your family's estate. The chandeliers casted gold silhouettes across the shadows. George bet it was warm in there. "Perhaps a visitor will come put us out of our misery."

"Keep your shirt on, George," Lockwood said firmly. "Perhaps having us enter without decoration was her intention."

"Who goes to a masquerade ball without a mask?" George scoffed.

"Lockwood & Co., apparently." Lucy rolled her eyes. She cast a nervous glance behind her but found lanterns had been lit. They smelt of lavender, reassuring her that despite your family's reputation, you weren't ignorant to the Problem. "Shall we head inside or face the treacherous cold?"

Lockwood, thoroughly done with their snideness, promptly decided on the former. He rolled his shoulders back and righted his posture before joining the line to the threshold.

"I see a buffet," Lucy said with new-found energy. Suddenly, the cold wasn't so unforgiving.

"Is that a chocolate fountain?" George inquired. Even if he did his best to keep his tone even, they caught the subtle intonation on the word 'chocolate'.

"Compose yourselves," Lockwood reminded primly. "we are representatives of the agency as well as guests, so, do try to mingle before losing yourselves in the smorgasbord."

"Sure."

"Absolutely."

Lockwood didn't know who said what, but he knew their answers were merely supplementary. They would bolt for the buffet as soon as the made it past the front door. At least their concerns about the lack of disguise were put to rest.

As they neared the doors, the warmth from the inside began to thaw away their frigidness. By the time they stepped into your abode, they were swallowed by the luxury. The word 'cold' didn't exist in a place as decadent as this.

The velvet curtains were pulled back fully, showcasing ceiling-length windows that glimmered with reflections of your guests, . A large chandelier illuminated the ballroom, washing everyone in supple, golden light. It brought out everyone's best features. Even the floor was polished so perfectly, it could have been a mirror.

If he didn't know better, Lockwood would have thought he walked right into a fairytale. He didn't realize Lucy and George had made their escape until he looked behind himself to find them gone.

He didn't have to idle by for very long. Like how sun rays pierce through storm clouds, you parted the crowd. You shone under the chandelier-light, a star put on earth, and you smiled so brightly he had to think you only smile like that for him. Lockwood lost his words, but his mouth was moving.

You were chuckling when you neared. Only when you dodged the roses and leaned on your toes to kiss his cheek did he realize that you didn't supply yourself with a mask either. His earlier guess had been right.

Whatever mirage he was in the middle of was cut through by two more figures coming into view; your parents, most likely. You resembled them a lot.

His joints went rigid but he was experienced enough to project an easygoing energy. All while he repressed bubbling exclamations.

He played on his best smile and reached for your father's outstretched hand. They met in the middle for a firm handshake.

"You must be the lad our little darling speaks so highly of," Mr. Darling chuckled. He had the kind of smile that put everyone in the room at ease. It reached his eyes. He must be the one you inherited your eye-smile from. A nail of guilt hit him right on the head because it was obvious that the man didn't know his daughter's romance was a fad. "Anthony, is it?"

"You're correct," Lockwood said amiably. His smile widened as he watched your mother's eyes gravitate to the bouquet of roses. "Anthony Lockwood, at your service, sir. And ma'am . . . These are for you." He offered the arrangement to your mother, who accepted them with the grace of a royal. You must have inherited that from her. He would have found it adoring if another strike of guilt didn't come down on him.

"How courteous," your mother said, hiding a smile behind her newly acquired bouquet. Her eyes moved to you and you shared a look Lockwood didn't quite understand. His stomach churned. Your mother then shot a peculiar look at him — like she could see right through him. It made his blood run cold.

Lockwood didn't have the option to ponder on it. Your father had seized Lockwood's attention with a firm pat on the shoulder. Lockwood had to tense his back to keep himself from toppling over.

As grayed as your father was, he had the kind of voice that commanded authority. "Don't be coy, boy. You can call us Ma and Pa. If our little starlet likes you enough to introduce you to us, you must be something special."

Lockwood glanced at you, momentarily paused by your smile. "She's the special one between us, sir—"

"Pa," your father corrected.

"Pa," Lockwood rectified smilingly. He wasn't sure what about it made him feel so melancholic and comforted at the same time. "I should be groveling at her feet. I'm very lucky to have caught her attention."

"I like the way you talk. It's no wonder she's so taken by you, Anthony."

Your father surprised Lockwood with a boisterous laugh. He was sure the room tremored for a moment. Lockwood was happy enough to laugh with him, the same time his heart was pounding against his ribcage.

The exchange was interrupted by your mother's squeal of delight. She had found the Ferrero Rochers laying in the bed of roses. She, with bright eyes, brandished them to her husband and Mr. Darling looked positively thrilled by the surprise.

"And thoughtful, too." Your father gave Lockwood the kind of nod you'd only get after you ask for their daughter's hand in marriage. "He's a keeper, little darling."

Lockwood's smile shook. Your mother looked at him strangely once more. He tried to regained himself.

Guilt.

GUILT.

It was drowning him, yet, he kept his cool. (At least, tried to.) You didn't seem to notice the change in his attitude.

You, with your rosy cheeks and resplendent smile, hooked your arm with Lockwood's and said, "I know, pa. That's the plan."

—

"That was not the plan," Lockwood respired, loosening his tie as soon as he stepped into open air. Even when he breathed in lavender, his lungs felt as if they were stuffed with cotton.

You had lead him to a balcony to give him a moment of reprieve only to be met with a glare. So much for being bad at acting, you were convinced his earlier niceties were real.

You regarded him with crossed arms, your cool façade practically a wall between you. "I invited, and you came. That's all that happened here."

"You made a spectacle of me," he rasped, his breath coming out as frost. "I would have been alright with that, but you brought your parents into this. They don't even know you're doing this, do they?"

The way he motioned between you as he said 'this' made you feel like someone's dirty secret. The way you faltered was laughable. Your heart clenched and your nails dug into your palms. You replied the only way you knew how: stronger.

"I don't see what the big issue is, Anthony," you scoffed. "I pay you, you do as I say. What if my parents don't know it's a ploy? The point is to set the stage for the press. I told you that."

"God," he laughed without feeling, raking a hand through his hair. He was heaving like he had just ran a marathon, face turning red. "You don't get it do you? We don't play with people. I don't want to play with people. And that's your family, starlet! Does it not bother you that you are lying to their faces?"

"No, it doesn't," you replied, stoically, standing your ground. "and neither should you. You know I'm doing this for them."

"Are you?" Where you stepped back, he stepped forward. He scoffed. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "It's ironic that a whole ballroom of people hiding behind masks are more honest with themselves than you are to yourself."

"What are you implying?" Your words come out through gritted teeth.

He stood tall, more intimidating than you'd ever seen him. The gauntness in his eyes were more pronounced then. His stature made your composure slip. His words made your knees buckle. "You're an actress. You're a professional at what you do. Even in your own home, you have a façade. Maybe you are, in some twisted way, doing this for the sake of your family, but I can't see that anymore. You're stringing them along . . . As far as I can see, you're just as bad as the gazette makes you out to be. I don't even know if you've been lying to me for the sake of keeping your mask on."

You feel the full force of his words drop down on you. Taking a few steps isn't enough to quiet the rush of throughts crowding your mind. All you see is his despondent face and a hundred and one headlines flash before your eyes.

He takes your hand—making you wish the circumstances were different—before he dropped his red-string bracelet into your palm. It felt heavier than it was supposed to. You couldn't pry your eyes away.

When he turned and left, your thoughts turned into white noise. He had taken every joy with him, deserting you in the muted chatter of what was supposed to be a celebration.

—

!! TROUBLE IN PARADISE

Recipients, it is to our sorrow that the couple that took the country by storm, Darling and Lockwood, seems to have called it quits. Lockwood no longer flaunts the bracelet that had started a trend for couples on this side of the globe. It is unknown whether he had lost it during a skirmish or willingly stopped wearing his. With Darling's trail of broken hearts, it's safe to assume the worst. The Starlet seems to be continuing activities, as usual. The ice princess, unmoved by a romance put to the grave. On a lighter note, read more about Lockwood & Co.'s achievements on page 7.

—

The gazette went for the jugular with that one. For once, they wrote something that had some truth to it. You didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

Even your newly developed habit of morning walking barely helped your heartbreak. You've never mourned for something that never was, but, damn, did it hurt. You knew you were in too deep when your feet carried you right to 35 Portland Row.

You stared at the agency plaque for an unnecessary amount of time before you folded yourself over and hugged your knees. At the time, George and Lucy would be out running errands before a case and Lockwood would be arranging their bags inside. Perhaps the security of knowing their schedule made you so confident to sit and wallow the death of what could have been.

Yet, you couldn't mourn that in peace. The silence was interrupted by a shutter. You lifted your head and spotted a paparazzo who didn't even try to hide his presence. He looked like he was in his mid-twenties and already fading. He had a smile on but it set off alarms in your head. You didn't have to ask. You had a feeling. The gazette was all too good at dampening a sunny day.

You stood up quickly but found yourself backed against the wrought-iron gate.

"The Darling Starlet of London... Quite the title. Never thought I'd get to see you in person." His smile widened. You didn't budge. Even with your fiercest glare, he didn't get the message. He looked down at his camera before his smile fell. "Do you know how upset we were when you started going out with that... that pathetic excuse of a human—"

"He's an agent," you cut off. "and he's the reason degenerates like you get to walk the streets without being ghost-touched at every turn."

"Degenerates?" He laughed, covering his mouth. "Oh, Darling Starlet—" The name you found home in was chemical coming from him. "you should know that we made you. He's lucky the chief likes him enough. You'd be nothing without us."

"Without the gazette?" You scoffed, tempted to roll your eyes at the fool. "You do more harm than good."

"But we make or break a career." His hand came away from his mouth, revealing a smile made of pointed teeth. "and what would happen to your folks if your reputation makes a sharp decline, hm? Your father needing all that medicine, your mother taking care of him... What would happen if our little darling turned out to be a little bitch?"

Your anger was boiling over, but the fear of that possibility had crippled you. Words died in your throat. Your will fizzled to nothing. You felt blood drip into your palm, nails clenched into your flesh.

You were still trying to regain yourself when the cold of the gate was pardoned from your back. A familiar warmth replaced it, an arm coming around your middle and a voice that quelled all your fears sounded in your ears. A rapier crossed the distance, severing the neckstrap around the photographer and sending his camera into the pavement. It's lens shattered and the photographer let out a yell.

"If you ever talk to my girlfriend like that again, a broken camera will be the least of your problems."

"Anthony J. Lockwood," the paparazzo snorted. "Your agency hinges on the exposure you get from us. Don't play hero when you know you're defending a sham."

"I'm defending my girlfriend," Lockwood's grip tightened on your hip, and his rapier shined in the light. Your heart did immeasurable things in lieu of Lockwood's doing. "and if you ever threaten my family like this again, I will come after you. The gazette isn't the only publication in London, and I've built a rapport with enough people in the industry to secure my place. I'm not afraid of you."

"You—"

Lockwood turned you around, covering you from view and urging you toward the door. "Head inside, darling. I'll take care of this."

You looked up at him, searching his eyes for resentment or even hate, but found none. His eyes were sunlight through bottles of whiskey. The smile had disarmed you, finally getting through to you.

You took a few hesitant steps before he nodded, assuring you that it was alright. He made sure you were safety inside before he returned his attention to the photographer.

"I do have morals. So, I'll be civil." Lockwood poised his blade. " That said, get off my street before I show you how proficient I am at my job."

—

Some part of you was desperately hoping that things would smooth themselves out after what had transpired. When he offered you his coat before telling you that he'd be walking you home, you knew you were in over your head.

That same night, you flipped the events over in your head. Clenching and unclenching your newly bandaged hand to remind yourself that it was real.

You didn't get much sleep with his voice echoing in your ears and his eyes burned into the back of your eyelids.

—

Your mother must have known something was wrong with you. You mistaked salt for sugar in your morning coffee, you walked into a wall on more than one occasion (a large vase had fallen victim to your daze), and you refused ice cream for the first time in your life.

In the middle of the day, Mama Darling decided that she'd seen enough. She set her knitting things down and urged you to put your book down. You obliged because you couldn't absorb the words anyway.

"My darling girl," your mother started. Her tone is so heartfelt, you felt yourself lax in your seat. A smile came to your face as she caressed your cheek, just as she'd always done. "You've always been such a kind child. So selfless . . . Your only flaw is that you need to know when to let go of your fear and let us handle ourselves, dearest."

You stared at her, lost. She simply smiled, taking your hands in hers. "I know your recent escapades with Anthony were a play, my dear girl." Your spine calcified, heat prickled your eyes. "I always knew. I'm honest when I say he's good for you. He brings out your ugly smile— Don't frown, I mean it in a romantic sense. I know the look of love when I see it, dearest. Don't sacrifice it for pride or fear, my girl. Go get him back."

"Ma," you shuttered, pausing to collect yourself. You were choking on yourself and that wasn't the worst of it. Your vision had blurred from your tears. "you and Pa need me to focus on my career. I have to—"

"No, you don't." She tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and swiped her thumb across your cheek. "You'll always be a princess in the eyes of the public, dearest. Any person with two eyes and common sense will see that. You just have to break out of your shell, actually talk to the journalists. Just not the ones from the Daily Gazette—they are something else entirely."

"They are, aren't they?" You manage to laugh through your tears. Only your mother could make you feel these many things at once. She saw right through you. "Right now, Anthony doesn't even want to talk to me. I'm so scared that if I try, he'll tell me everything I don't want to hear. I'm scared he'll see all the nasty things the gazette talked about and hate me for them."

"Darling," your mother said sternly. "we just went over the fact that the gazette is complete and utter bullshit."

You can't help but snort. The rare curse from her had broken through to you. "Sorry, Ma."

"Don't be sorry, my dear girl, be brave." She flipped your hand over and drew lines across your palm. She did it three times before you realized what she was doing; she was drawing stars. "Some things are worth conquering fears for."

The Starcrest ferris wheel. Stolen smiles. Dreams of fireworks.

Your mother smiled at the renewed light in your eyes. She didn't question you as you bolted to the exit.

"Home before dinner! You may bring Anthony!" she called just before you smiled and closed the door behind you.

—

"Lucy?"

"No, this is George."

The world must hate you. You couldn't do much about that. You coiled the telephone wire around your finger as you took a deep breath. "This is... darling."

"I don't know anyone with a ridiculous name like that. Sorry."

You bit your cheek, inhaling the urge to sigh. "The prissy actress."

"Oh. You." He shuffled, crossing his arms. "Speak, before I hang up."

"I have a favor to ask of you," you winced, already expecting the worst.

"What's in it for me?"

You took a breath. "What do you want? Biscuits? An allowance? Access to the VIP collection in the library—"

"All of that, and you have yourself a deal."

"Done."

—

"George— You're usually against room invasion," Lockwood quipped, allowing himself to be dragged up the steps. "and Lucy wouldn't be happy about this."

"When I tell her what I bargained, she'll be fine with it."

"Bargained?"

"Not that important right now, Lockwood. Sit. And for all things grotesque, don't move."

George had pushed Lockwood into the mustard seat beside the attic window. The latter was ready to protest, confusion evident.

A resounding pop had interrupted him. The lights in the room shifted. The shadows stretched and receeded. It took a moment for Lockwood to realize that there were fireworks going off outside.

On the third floor, he had a bird's eye view of the shower of sparks in varying shades of blues, reds, and yellows. He was wondering where the firework show had come from, but his questions were put to rest with a singular look onto the street.

Other than the tins of fireworks, he saw you—looking much like a panicked frog while lighting the fireworks. You looked absolutely ridiculous. His perceptions of you had been thrown to the wind, and he couldn't help but smile.

The last firework burst into pink sparks, lighting up his eyes and your silhouette; embedding itself into his memories. When the air had cleared, he cracked the window open.

"What are you doing down there? Have you gone mad?"

You cupped your hands around your mouth, shouting an answer at him. "Lighting fireworks! You like dem?"

He shook his head, endeared. "How do you even know how to light them?"

"I don't! It was about time I learned!"

"You really are a lunatic..." he chuckled.

You cocked your head. "What did you say?"

"Come in!"

You showed him your thumbs, scuttling to the front door.

Lockwood had never raced down the stairs so quickly before. He apologized quickly to George, who he had almost bumped to ground floor, and Lucy, who had just gotten home with groceries. He raced for the door; hair a mess, breathing short, but smiling widely. He greeted you with the same smile he had on when you first met.

Cute as he was, you couldn't take it anymore. You reached up, fingers brushing his forehead and fixing the strands that had been bothering you for ages.

"I'm sorry," was the first thing you said. You were still heaving from outrunning fireworks but he wasn't in much better shape. "I was scared, and my first instinct was to act like I don't care, but I do. I care so much. About you."

"I got the message," he laughed, looking over your shoulder to the smoke remnants of the showcase.

"No, I'm not done." You took a breath, bracing yourself for it. "I want you to know about me, too. Pa has been sick for a long time. He worked through it so they could afford my commute to and from auditions. The money Ma made was used for medicine or keeping me in school. We struggled for a long time. Some days, I couldn't sleep because I felt so helpless. I wanted to give back to them with every fiber of my being. When I finally could, I never wanted to go back to having nothing. I was willing to do anything to stay where I was—"

"Darling, I get it—"

"—and I lost sight of who I was doing it for. I was so comfortable in allowing anything just to keep a pristine reputation—"

"Darling—"

"—and I hurt you. I never meant to, I'm so sorry. I realize now that I was wrong and I should have been more honest with you because I don't just want to be colleagues anymore—"

"Oh, shut up already."

He bunched your shirt in his fist, pulling you to him with the anticipation born from a thousand dreams. When his lips touched yours, it felt like all of this was worth the wait.

You were sweet and a little smokey, he could have laughed but settled with smiling into the kiss. You stole a breath from him when you nipped at his bottom lip. He could have spent the night like that but the resounding boom from outside made the two of you jump, breaking away from The Best Kiss Ever™ to see the last of the fireworks finish off the moment with golden sparks.

Lockwood couldn't stay upset. After a short laugh, you grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him right back to you—giving him another kiss to think about for the rest of his life.

—

!! THE COUPLE OF THE CENTRURY, BACK AGAIN !!

Recipients, after a short-lived break, the couple of the century are back—stronger than ever! Various photographs have been taken of them: Dancing in the foyer of the Darling estate, partaking in Mrs. Darling's notorious tea parties, and running away from premiers to steal time for themselves. To see more of them, see page 4!

That was possibly the last good article written about anyone coming from the gazette. Not long after that, they began to be brazen in their attempts to tarnish your reputations. They published photos of the two of you flipping off the photographer, spitting your tongues out at unwanted paparazzi, and spreading the most degrading rumors you had ever heard.

At the same time, the gazette had been losing viewership to London Squire, who was only gaining traction with every article written about the It Couple of Europe. Soon enough, the gazette had lost all credibility; reduced to a mere scandal sheet. It was a breath of fresh air.

The public was enamored by your honest nature and respected the fact that you'd prefer to keep your relationship private. Though, you would be the talk of the town once the Squire got a hold of an exclusive interview.

The topic? Vows, silver rings, and rapiers to cut wedding cake.

DARLING-LOCKWOOD

— It's now official. Our Darling Starlet is off the market after exchanging vows with Lockwood & Co.'s founder and president, Anthony Lockwood. The union took place this weekend in a private ceremony with close family. The couple reveals that the ceremony was grand but they would like nothing more than to keep it to themselves. We are honored that both Mr. & Mrs. Lockwood has given us the opportunity to publish a few pictures taken during their most special day. The writers here at London Squire send all our warmest regards to the newly weds.

The picture wasn't much; Just a scene recreated from the movie that earned you the title of 'Darling'. Even when you shared his name, he persisted in calling you his darling starlet. Though, he takes the utmost pride when he does call you his missus.

NOTE ➺ i don't know if i can get all my 1989 tv songfics done in time but i plan to get them all published before the end of 2023 !

i hope this finds you when you need it. as always, don't be afraid to leave your thoughts in the comments or reblogs. i love to read feedback so don't hold back!!

⌠ @novelizt 2023 ⌡

#— ❨ 🌺 ❩ 𝐋𝐈𝐙𝐙𝐈𝐄'𝐒 𝐔𝐓𝐎𝐏𝐈𝐀 ₊˚.༄#1989 tv songfic collection #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x you #lockwood x reader #lockwood and co fanfiction #lockwood x you #lockwood and co x reader #lockwood x y/n #anthony lockwood angst #anthony lockwood fanfiction

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nadas-dirthalen · 16 days ago

Text

A Veilguard Achievement Icon Opened My Eyes on 15 Years of Lore... but Was I Right?

PART ONE: Rambling First Impressions & Overview

[ 2 ]

Hello again, friends and travellers. Now that I've beaten Dragon Age: the Veilguard, I wanted to go through all those 30,000 words of predictions that I wrote in the ~11 days leading up to its release. I'd seen an achievement icon that pieced together a lot of Dragon Age lore for me.

But, I hadn't played Veilguard. All I had was the footage from September 19, the achievement list, and anything else BioWare had released.

So... was I right? And if so, how much was I right about?

This is your warning: This post will contain spoilers for the entirety of Dragon Age: the Veilguard, and all Dragon Age content made before Veilguard.

(no, this screenshot isn't a spoiler, I just like it.)

Welcome Back for Round Two. >:)

Stating right off the bat: I have only played Dragon Age: the Veilguard 1.5 times and so this collection is very, very incomplete. There's no way for me to learn every codex before they're even all on the wiki. If I've missed something, let me know!!

I don't know how many parts this is going to have. This has been a very fun, but very sleep-deprived week. Expect no sensible organization here; we're letting the ADHD reign!

That said, here's what I'm going to attempt to do:

A Recap of My Grand Theory: Solas was the Blight's Beginning, and Mythal was Responsible

How I Made My Predictions: A Study in Context and Pattern Recognition

What Did I Actually Get Right? (An Overview, Anyway)

Early Signs Veilguard Added to My Theories

A Recap of My Grand Theory: Solas was the Blight's Beginning, and Mythal was Responsible

I really don't have space to go in depth on what amounted to 30,000 words of theorycrafting (which still boggles my mind, how did I do that and still find time to sleep). Instead, I'll link every post and make a bullet point list of what big guesses I made in each.

Part One: Solas was created from spirit and lyrium, crafted in one of Mythal's lyrium coffins that we see both in the Temple of Solasan and Trespasser. That means that some part of him was part of a Titan, once. There were hints about this across all three preceding games, and these hints re-contextualize those games and their place in the Dragon Age narrative. The Titans are likely the Forgotten Ones, because Fen'Harel walked among both the Forgotten Ones and the Evanuris in his legends.

Part Two: The Mythal lullaby in Trespasser is the story of Solas' creation, specifically. Da'durgen'lin refers to 'little stone boy.' Solas' twice-used phrase Ar dirthan'as ir elgara, ma sula e'var vhenan is him speaking to lyrium itself, which he does both with Sera (ancient elvhen? andruil memory? people go into more depth on this than I ever do) and the Eye of Kethisca. Elven phrases and pieces of writing/song from everywhere point to Solas' backstory and are all possibly written/sung by Solas. The codices in the Temple of Solasan are also referencing his backstory. There is a larger narrative at work happening in the random elven literature we find, and it suggests a lot of things about the world.

Part Three: The Titans are definitely the Forgotten Ones—at least, part of them (more on that later). They have all been sundered. One part remains in the Abyss; the other in the Fade. The Fade, in fact, is every Titan's consciousness, all sundered by Fen'Harel. This is the "leg" that the wolf chewed off to "escape the trap": Solas' connection to ir sa tel'nal, isatunoll. This is why he loves the Fade: he's reconnecting with the consciousness he broke himself apart from. This is also why he has Titan/Stone magic. This is also why lyrium grows both in the Abyss and in the Fade.

• Oh, and spirits seem like they might be the thoughts of Titans.

Part Four: The Chant of Light tells the story of the Evanuris, from their manifestation as spirits to their mining of lyrium and war with the Titans to the Makers' creation of "everyone else." The archdemons and Magisters Sidereal are also explained in its verses. The Chant also suggests the Maker is a Titan whose mind and body are sundered, and that Andraste's hearing the "voice of the Maker" is her hearing the Titan's song.

Part Five: The tragedy of the Evanuris, part 1/3: Mythal is known to have mined people from lyrium. Elgar'nan probably sundered spirits, notably Dirthamen and Falon'Din. Falon'Din seems to have wanted to attack Titans that "belonged" to other Evanuris to gain more "worshippers" (lyrium people; slaves) for himself.

Part Six: The tragedy of the Evanuris, part 2/3: Sylaise probably made the Scaled Ones. June probably is responsible for not just lots of inventions, but the invention of the geas. Dirthamen's "secrets" are "thoughts" (spirits) forced into the bodies of his worshippers... and animals... and trees (AKA, he made a lot of abominations).

Part Seven: The tragedy of the Evanuris, part 3/3: the blight seems to be the Titans' defence against repeated attacks. Crucially, all of the Evanuris made the Titans this way... but Mythal made them that way first. The reason the Titans are "forgotten" now is because Mythal tried to erase all memory of them so that none would find the blight again. (She failed. Thanks, Andruil and Ghilan'nain).

Part Eight: The story of Solas, part 1/3: Solas came from an un-sundered world where both "mage magic" and "Stone magic" were the same thing. He was created in the Temple of Solasan, where "icy terror" became the first blighted Titan. Solas' existence was significant to the Evanuris because it suggested that one can survive the blight, and his moniker (the Dread Wolf) comes from the fact that he was a wolf (elven general) that came from the terror Titan (dread).

Part Nine: Since Solas' origin story is the start of the blight, then all of Solas' story from that point is not the story of just him, but the story of the blight. This signifies his place in Dragon Age's entire narrative, and also spells out what the overarching Point™ of the series is. Backed into a proverbial corner where none of the Evanuris would stop the things that angered the Titans, Solas' only choice was to sunder the Titans from their consciousness. He misses the Stone, also.

• He also imprisoned the Evanuris in Stone, something called "gangue" in Hissing Wastes codices.

• His ultimate goal is to return consciousness to the Titans, fixing the "wound" he made when the Veil went up.

Part Ten: The Inquisitor is special because their spirit is from the same Titan as Solas. The Breach is a threat because if the Veil comes down too soon, all the Titans will come back blighted and angry. The Veil disintegrating means all the Titans are waking anyway, little by little. The Dread Wolf shape is actually an aspect of Terror that can kill people with fear. The Evanuris who've been killed before have potentially had their spirits "recycled" and might be reincarnating into mortal people now. Oh, and a bunch of predictions on the companions, Solas/Mythal, etc, that I'll go over again down below.

How I Made My Predictions: A Study in Context and Pattern Recognition

I've had a lot of people ask how I... y'know. Did that. How one person could write 30,000 words of guesses in the week and a half before Veilguard, citing so many sources, and... not be that far off, probably.

Honestly the short version of this is, "I read the Chant of Light as it appears in World of Thedas, not with the canticles out of order like they are on the wiki, has anyone else done that?"

The longer version of this sounds even shorter, at first: I started playing Dragon Age games in March 2024, and I have ADHD.

Oh, and I'm a writer who's always been interested in game development, with dreams of maybe one day working in games or on video game IP. That helps shape my understanding of what games might need to accomplish, narratively, and the mechanisms they might use to accomplish those goals.

I was able to play all three games this summer. In fact, I finished Inquisition for the first time after Veilguard's first trailers this year, on June 26. What that means is that my first real experiences learning the finer lore of Dragon Age were all this year, and had the context of Veilguard's trailers. We knew we were getting a narrative followup to Trespasser, and so where did I center my focus? Trespasser. Everything I learned about Thedas, I tried to make sense in the context of Trespasser. Every piece of lore had to fit with Trespasser. Not just the environment of the Crossroads or the companions' banter, but what Trespasser was trying to teach us.

And most of its codices are about the Evanuris warring with the Titans. The Titans, who we'd just seen in Descent. The storytelling point of Trespasser was to make us question the nature and morality of Fen'Harel by giving us context about the Evanuris and their own history, then letting us ask for Solas' perspective on it.

That's the thing about Dragon Age. Very little of it is there pointlessly. Every level, every DLC, every codex, is there to teach you something. Even the smaller codices, which don't seem to mean anything tremendous, are there to teach you how to parse the voice of all the other codices. So even beyond the games, I asked myself: what is Tevinter Nights trying to teach me about how Thedas works? What is The Masked Empire teaching me? Is it the same? And what about World of Thedas, volumes 1 and 2, written from the perspective of Thedosian historians, deliberately written to misdirect the reader with the historians' biases?

Whatever I found had to work with what was promised in Veilguard: a controversial Solas. New understanding of the Evanuris. Harding's new magic. Regions of Thedas we never explored, and why those places would all matter.

Knowing the three act structure, as a writer, and knowing that ensemble casts all need to bring a puzzle piece of the grander theme into the main plot through their own personal quests, I had a vague skeleton of what I would need to find. The shape of the information I found would have to fit the world and the relationship dynamics advertised in the Veilguard. Origins would have to matter to the Veilguard; same with DA2; same with Inquisition. Despite the series being disconnected by featuring different leads, the worldbuilding is very much connected between instalments, and so Veilguard would have to be one logical step past everything that developed in Inquisition. (Nevermind a whole host of other criteria that honestly deserves its own post).

It's very hard to describe how the pattern recognition in some ADHD brains works. What I will say is... I noticed something. Every mistranslated elven codex where it deliberately says it has been mistranslated is an invitation for you, the player, to try and figure out what is correct. Everywhere that World of Thedas says that something must be preposterous to the historian narrating it is an invitation to ask yourself: could this be possible? How would that work?

Things like the linguistic overlaps between the elves and the dwarves are intentional. Words that are phonetically similar are far more often intentional than simple oversight. Every scrap of lore holds some significance.

Because in Thedas, every perspective is right, to some degree. Including the Chant of Light. Including ancient elvhenan. If you try and make them all reconcile with each other, and you've also done so in the context of the Veilguard, and you've also got ADHD and a near-photographic memory that is strongest with emotional memories and rules/systems? Well... You get me. You get 30,000 words of "one single picture of lyrium-spirit Solas cracked all of Thedas for me in the span of one mind-blown week while I power-read World of Thedas to check all my facts and essentially lived inside the Dragon Age wiki."

(AKA, you get Bellara in human form. Sorry, Bellara. It's rough out here. But now you, reader, know the reason that this blog was renamed nadas-dirthalen in late September—and why I, when I embraced my nonbinary identity, chose the name Lore for myself.)

And what was promised in Inquisition, as well as in Veilguard's marketing? The Evanuris, Titans, and the blight. They would all have to tie together—and they did.

What Did I Actually Get Right? (An Overview, Anyway)

I'm going to try and categorize this. Oh god. These are going to be such disorganized posts, but I want them done before much information comes out, so bear with me.

What I Got Right:

Solas and Mythal: Yep. He caused the blight; she made him do it. He created the Veil and wounded himself. They weren't romantic; they were trauma-bonded. She wasn't a paragon of good. They both tried to stop the blight anyway.

Sundered Spirits: The sweet, sweet vindication of learning that Dirthamen and Falon'Din were sundered all along. Thank you, BioWare. We also learned that this happened to the Titans (more on broader implications in the last category in this section).

Titan Stories In Elven: Bellara sang "Ir sa tel'nal Mythal las ma theneras" and my heart soared. :) My ego swelled. :) That's all the confirmation I need right now that I hit the nail on the head with the elven lullabies and Solas' backstory.

The Chant of Light Told the Story of the Evanuris: The demons that would be gods. We know now that all the Evanuris manifested physically from their original spirit forms. The Chant called it.

Mythal, Andruil, and Ghilan'nain's Roles in the Blight: Mythal created it, but wanted it sealed away; Andruil found it again; Ghilan'nain made it grow and grow.

Taash, a little? I hypothesized that fire-breathers might come from the Scaled Ones or otherwise have been engineered by an Evanuris. I know they were engineered for the purpose of war, but not by whom (I... think. Needs a replay to confirm).

Davrin: Yes! Davrin was the one who connected that Solas feels responsible for specifically the blight and conveyed that to the rest of the team. He questioned the nature of the Grey Wardens and helped to choose a path forward without any archdemons left.

Harding: Yup. Titan connection. Yup, our narrative path to finding out about angered Titans.

"Do We Win?/Do We Stop the Blight?" Well, in Solas' good ending, we do get what I thought we would: the Evanuris all gone, the Titans on a path to restoration.

What I Definitely Did Not Get Right:

VARRIC?!?! When I said, "If you know, you know. Lyrium dagger, dwarf. If you don't know, close your eyes and pretend you read nothing" — GUYS I THOUGHT VARRIC WOULD GET MAGIC HE REALLY HATED AND I CRIED LIKE A BABY WHEN I SAW WHAT HAPPENED :(

Lucanis: I really thought Spite would be a Forgotten One. However, it's stated a few times that Spite is not a run-of-the-mill demon, and Lucanis is not your average abomination. I wonder if there's banter I'm missing, or if something will happen with that in DA5. Poisoned fruit, and all that.

Emmrich: I really thought Emmrich would do world-changing "give all the spirits back to the Titans" stuff. I think my error with most of the companions is that I forgot how much information actually can feasibly fit into a game without it being 300 hours long or melting the brains of its players.

Neve: Nothin' happened with gangue mentions, or Archon mentions! I was way, way off with Neve.

The Eclipse: It did not have anything to do with the Bird Boy Evanuris™ :( But Elgar'nan moving the sun and moon was badass as hell, and I honestly loved Elgar'nan far more than even my highest expectations.

What I Haven't Gotten Right... YET:

Bellara….?????? Guys I thought there was a Dirthamen connection and they put a codex in the game that says specifically that Dirthamen held a fondness for frogs, same as Bellara. And then they gave her a brother who... ya know... was... presumed... dead... AKA, on the other side of the Veil... for a while... And then they gave that brother a sundered piece of Bellara's own vallaslin. John Epler, where are you going with this please I wanna KNOW, the Bird Boys™ occupy my mind at all hours. (But also? Surprise Forgotten One mention with Bellara, and surprise Anaris mention specifically, and I'm going to pat myself on the back for being so oddly focused on Anaris in my predictions.)

Chant of Light Confirmations: I actually have yet to see a single Chant of Light verse in Veilguard. I think they're saving that one for later, keeping it up their sleeves for the next games. The needle didn't move with confirming/denying anything in the Chant except for the Evanuris as spirits that manifested into physical shape and then sought to conquer the Titans.

Titans-as-Forgotten-Ones: For a time, I thought they disproved me on this, showing Anaris as a spirit, the "eighth" while the "sixth and seventh" roamed free. Showing Anaris craving a body to wreak his evil (?) machinations upon the world. But then I got to thinking, and I realized: they never said the Forgotten Ones are spirits, they just showed one being a spirit. What did they say about spirits in general, or the Titans' relation to the Fade in general?

Titans-and-Fade Connection: I theorized that the Titans' consciousness is the Fade, and the Veil is what keeps them all sundered. I theorized that spirits are thoughts, either floating around in the Fade or held in lyrium. For a long time in Veilguard, I thought I was being disproven. Solas' memories don't say that the Veil sundered all Titans, and they don't say that Titans' consciousness is the Fade, either. But, as I went through Veilguard, I realized... they also didn't not say it. And that's when I knew.

I have to go digging again. And after 8.5 days, here's what I think I've got. It's a start, but a promising one.

Early Signs Veilguard Has Added to My Theories

Remember how I said that there are very few in things in Thedas that are there for no reason? Well, Veilguard has given us plenty of tie-ins to previous material already, just with the stuff I remember off-hand from the past week, no wiki entries to go by yet.

(Please bear in mind that I have had this game for 8 days and this is just barely scratching the surface of its content!)

Let me re-examine some of the things I mentioned above:

Titans-as-Forgotten-Ones

The Nadas Dirthalen's very first word is Sulahn'nehn. Remember how I said many things in Thedas are there intentionally, and that World of Thedas is a book made up of invitations to solve puzzles? This is no exception. World of Thedas states that, translated literally, this common word for "rejoice" actually means "sing again."

That word might be a rallying cry for the spirits of Titans who'd, I don't know... lost their song. A promise of plot to come, made a decade ago. Why else would they include that word, instead of anything more frequently used by characters/the fandom?

I also noticed: the Nadas Dirthalen looks to be contained in a lyrium crystal, specifically. We already know that lyrium is used to store memories! It may be that the Nadas Dirthalen, the inevitability of knowledge, was Anaris storing his knowledge and memories in an attempt to pre-empt the creation of the Veil. Nadas Dirthalen might be a promise: a promise that the Forgotten Ones will return to sing again, and that their knowledge and memories will guide them to victory.

But if I was going to hazard a guess that this is the case, I couldn't base my theory on just this line of dialogue.

Titans-and-Fade-Connection

First and foremost: Neve and a couple codices say that Solas' ritual to create the Veil went wrong. We all heard Solas cry out in pain at the moment of its creation!

Second: defeating one of the revenants, whose name is something like "The Slaughtered Pillars," made my ears perk up. I noticed in the combat with the Betrayal of Felassan that the dialogue lines are supposed to be Solas' regrets, given voice.

You wanna know what it says when you fight the Slaughtered Pillars?

"Light and song, stolen."

You wanna know what the Chant of Light refers to the Fade as? Three guesses. C'mon. :)))

That's right! Light! But why would the slaughtered pillars of the earth complain about their light AND song being stolen? Well—I'm guessing that their Light is the Fade; their consciousness. And without their consciousness, their dreams, all concept of isatunoll was lost to them.

When I heard this line, I threw out what I thought I had been told about the Forgotten Ones being spirits, not Titans. Now, I have a new idea (one that still needs verifying and much codex-reading): the Forgotten Ones are those sundered spirits that Solas severed from the Titans. The entire Fade being cut off from Thedas was an unintended consequence that hurt him as badly as it did the Titans he meant to put to sleep.

(We don't even know that he was in uthenera by choice, with how often he talks about being weakened.)

Suddenly, "Sing again," makes total sense as a rallying cry for Anaris and the Titans, both. I very much look forward to digging through the minutiae of every codex to see if I can find anything else that backs this up!

Terror/Horror Mentions

I need to really examine this one, ideally with the help of a wiki that doesn't quite exist yet for this game, to get all the exact lines. But I swear that fear is mentioned almost constantly in Solas' memories, and also a lot in conjunction with Anaris and with Harding's Titan.

I'm not letting go of my "Solas was crafted from Terror/Dread" theory. Not yet. Not yet.

Bellara and the Bird Boys™

I think BioWare's favourite game, at this point, is teasing us with sneaky little mentions of Dirthamen and Falon'Din. In Veilguard, we went to Zazikel's skeleton in the Cauldron. In Arlathan, owls were just... glowing. Everywhere. Why? I don't know! Rook also doesn't seem to know! But they mention it many times over, and that is always a cue for us to pay attention and ascertain why.

I don't know what Bellara's sneaky little connection to Dirthamen and Falon'Din could mean for the two sundered Evanuris. I don't know if it means that I'm right, and that Dirthamen escaped Fade Jail when Corypheus and the Magisters Sidereal entered the Black City. I don't know if it means that, when Dirthamen and Falon'Din died, their spirits fused back together (because... Mythal's didn't?).

I just know that this has worsened how I constantly search for the Bird Boys™ in everything. Something is happening here, I just need to figure out what.

What Do I Think This Means?

I think this means that BioWare are about to make good on their promise shown in the Poisoned Fruit post-credits scene. Dragon Age 5: Something Something Something Forgotten Ones, ooohhhh, spooky, Terror Terror Malice Fear Nightmare Time, Featuring Solas (reluctantly or gladly) Helping Heal the Titans. And did we mention that the Forgotten and the Forbidden Ones have always been more closely linked than most of the fanbase thought?

But I can only guess at that for now, and I've got some serious reading to do before I say anything more specific than that.

-----

As always, if you read this far, you're one of the real ones. This has been a jumbled mess of midnight thoughts, but I promise you this: I'm only just digging into Veilguard's finer workings. I'm only just starting to put its many pieces together.

And like every Dragon Age game, I can tell that there is something big lurking between the lines of every one. I just need to read something like 135 mementos and [redacted] codices from everywhere else several times over in order to figure out what it is.

But this is just Part One. I promise: the second it clicks for me, I'll write it all in a rambling frenzy for you, too.

It's still super up in the air, but I think for the next one, I might try and tackle What Dragon Age: the Veilguard Did Narratively—and What DA5's Story Will Likely Do to Follow. We'll see what happens to me 50, 100, or 200 codices from now. :)

#dragon age #veilguard spoilers #dragon age the veilguard #dragon age: the veilguard #da:tv #da meta #da theory #dragon age meta #dragon age theory #da:tv spoilers

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studentinpursuitofclouds · 7 days ago

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lately I've been messing with a mod that changes some vanilla + sve dialogues about the species of the farmer to make them recognise them as not human (you can kinda customize the race). It's been pretty fun and great for role-playing but at the same time, it kinda crossed my mind that a supernatural lineage/genetics could sort of justify the weird thing of the farmer's children growing at strange paces for a human child (going from baby to toddler in weeks and then stoping) if they're biological.

And like, probably for the farmer it's the most normal thing in the world and never mentioned such details about children in their species. And so. It happens. The kid grows too fast or too slow. Maybe it's because the farmer is from a species that lives longer than usual so it halts the development even if they're half-human, or are from species that just reaches maturity faster than humans. Or whatever.

So, what kind of reactions do you think some bachelors/bachelorettes would have upon discovering their children have messed up stages of growth bc of this? I'm not thinking about anyone in particular but I kind of think that the more adventure/magic related spouses would get it easier or even expect it. Whoever you think would be more interesting, really.

I hope I wasn't too vague or weird with this idea-- Have a great day and weekend 🫶🪻

That's a pretty interesting theory about children growing up quickly! Usually a lot of people (myself included) have discussed the rapid passing of the seasons in Stardew Valley, but it's usually written off to the mechanics of the game or the fact that this magical world doesn't have the same passage of time as normal. After all, carrots don't grow for only three days, and autumn doesn't consist of only one month. Heh, I like this idea, dear anon, thanks for your ask! 💕

You mentioned that you weren't thinking of anyone in particular, but I understood that adventure/magic meant Expanded mod, right? So I'll include some candidates from vanilla game and mod. Anyway, enjoy!

_____________________________

Abigail:

Abigail thought at first that she was sleep-deprived (being a parent was a challenge, after all), but even as she wiped her eyes and scrutinized the baby's crib, the purple-haired girl was stunned. It's her baby, but at the same time, it's not??? What the heck is going on?

"Farmer, can I talk to you for a moment?"

She knew both for Farmer's background and the fact that their child might inherit some of her spouse's abilities of their non-human half, the young mom was prepared. But here was the rapidly passing stage from baby to toddler that was unexpected for both of them. Well, at least Farmer had explained that only this stage would be skipped like this. On one hand, Abby was a little bummed that she hadn't gotten to babysit her son/daughter as baby more, but on the other hand she exhaled a sigh of relief that now she wouldn't have to deal with the constant dirty diapers and crying in the middle of the night almost every two hours.

Magnus Rasmodius:

The creatures from which Farmer had roots were known for their longevity and slower growth stages, unlike the human race. Magnus knows this very well, he even has a book about it somewhere in his library. The wizard knows the entire contents by heart, as he wanted to understand what to be prepared for when a new member of his and Farmer's family arrives. This point, however, caused him a share of sadness.

Rasmodius loves Farmer and their beautiful child dearly, and wouldn't trade that happiness for anything. It's just... his child (and Farmer too) will live longer than Magnus himself, and he's already old. He's afraid he'll leave this world before his son/daughter starts talking or even recognize him... But at least the magical crystals he charges with memories and photos of a happy family will remind his child that they had a father, and that Magnus loved them and Farmer very much.

Lance:

It was rare to find Lance dumbfounded, especially dumbfounded by his own child. The gallant adventurer and young father wasn't the least bit surprised that his and Farmer's newborn was showing magic already at a young age, given the pedigree of both parents. But what kind of magic had made his crawling baby into an already confidently walking toddler?

"My soul, do you recall any other unusual features on your part that might explain this transformation?" Yep, Farmer could answer that.

It's a similar situation with Magnus, Lance will have a pang of sadness that he will grow old faster than his dearest spouse and his child. But that's fate, and there's no point in wasting this time with sad thoughts. Lance will devote all his time to his family, loving and protecting them as long as he walks this earth.

Emily:

It's one thing when the sudden growing up of an unusual child happens, say, somewhere over the course of a few days to a week, where you slowly but surely ask yourself the logical question, but are at least somehow prepared for it. And it's other thing - when you walk out of the nursery, with your newborn's dirty pyjamas, and come back in a couple of minutes later and they're already a toddler. That's how Emily caught the miraculous transformation of her kid.

At first, the gem lover thought that her child was cursed by someone, and began to look for ways to remove this misfortune and cleanse the house of the dark aura. Until her spouse Farmer came home and explained to Emily what had just happened. Why didn't they tell her sooner? Well, their great-great-great-great-great-great grandmother wasn't exactly human (Farmer too, but partly), and there was a 1 in 1000 chance of someone in the family will "skip" one of the stages of growing up. But that's just this stage, from here on out it's all human. Shocking, but baby and Farmer are fine, that's the main thing. Oh, their baby needs a new clothes! To the sewing machine! ☝️

#stardew valley #sdv #stardew valley expanded #sve #sdv abigail #sdv wizard #sve magnus #sdv emily #sve lance #sdv headcanons #sve headcanons #thanks for the ask!#it's very cool that you can change dialogue in game for your non-human Farmer!

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welovetesvkaidan · 4 months ago

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OPINIONS ON KAIDAN EE/IF???

My honest reaction:

in all seriousness, if you wanna hear me yap about it, more under the cut

warning like, genuinely a ginormous yap, like a HUMUNGOUS, sleep-deprived yap,,, im cursed to be obsessed with skyrim + modded followers instead of touching grass

I think a lot of this is probably gonna be the same thing other people have said, so im sorry

if you feel i'm gonna be bringing up redundant points and get mad at me😓dont read

I haven't experienced and thus won't talk about the versions of EE and IF that are now separate mods from each other. I don't know anything about that.

if they're better now yayyy but this is about pre-separation

I should preface this with the fact that I've played through Skyrim 3 times with different stages of Kaidan EE/IF:

The initial Dawnguard + fixes/miscs mod

Kaidan EE/IF versions before extensive faction/NPC dialogue for Kaidan

EE/IF w/ NPC Dialogue (AKA Fratpack)

I was also part of the two different discords that were purged and created during these intervals. i don't even know if there is a discord currently?

anyway, that is to say that I have experienced the mod and it's behind-the-scenes progress, extensively so I have a pretty good idea of what I liked and didn't like

That being said, I will introduce probably my biggest problems with it: Tonal whiplash

Okay, well the most common complaint is ofc that a lot of the writing is out of character - and I agree. But it's not just ooc on paper, it's his voice too. I swear, it is very jarring hearing hushed, mild og Kaidan 2 voicelines, and then being deafened by EE Kaidan SCREAMING in my ear ALL.THE.TIME. (like... why are you yelling at me rn jeez)

Seriously. I'm not sure why they didn't just re-record everything from the original mod instead of adding more and more contradicting lines on top of the originals. It definitely could have been a standalone mod, and sometimes it almost feels like it is - because he is just so different.

My most infamous moment in my last playthrough with him happened after we defeated the dragon at Kynesgrove. His og Kaidan 2 dialogue played first, in it he shows interest and is cordial about Delphine ("I wouldn't mind prodding her mind" or whatver dialogue), THEN immediately after his Kaidan EE/IF dialogue will play, in which he walks up to Delphine and STARTS YELLING AT HER AND INSULTING HER - like they argue for quite a bit wtf. And it's like, listen, I have my thoughts about Delphine, but whether or not it was okay to yell at her isn't the problem. It would be fine - IF he hadn't just calmly told me he thought she was okay.

It is sooo confusing how he contradicts himself :(

I mean, yeah, fragments of who he is are still there, I can tell it's Kaidan, but he's warped to fit a different character. Like a con-artist Kaidan.

Anyway, besides the contradictions, it also feels out of character because of his established backstory.

Let's go over it: He's an orphan, lost his only connection to his family(his guardian) to drugs, fell into substances himself, joined a violent cult, had to escape said cult, came clean from his addictions, has been traveling Tamriel bounty-hunting, got brutally attacked by the Thalmor, rescued by mere chance. Do you honestly mean to tell me this man would be yelling, pissing, drinking, lewding, and joking his ass off?? After all that???? NO - or maybe not these levels of extreme. (maybe some other dude might, but Kaidan's characterization insists he is a brooding, keeps-to-himself man, even though he never acts like it anymore)

That man should be tired, and he did feel like he was tired in the original. He was more brooding then than he is now, usually silent, but could still have an edge of comedy/wittiness, he was smart, he had been through a lot!

In that regard, EE/IF Kaidan felt like... we are experiencing Kaidan 10 years in the past - like a Kaidan in his early 20s when he was still a drunkard low-key terrible person. He is just so energetic, always yapping - GOD he talks a lot now. ugh but most of the time it wasn't about anything, it was either inside-jokes, meta jokes, and only occasionally did we get things that added to the experience.

For example, I think most of us who have played Kaidan 2 remember at least one specific line he has said while exploring. What comes to mind for me is either "Can you smell the magicka in the air too? Smells like a rainless thunderstorm." or "Watch for the mammoth with the carvings on their tusks, that's how the giants mark their herd." Alright, both pretty nice small talk for characterization (he IS smart) and worldbuilding.

Tbh i can't really remember any iconic lines from the additions of EE/IF Kaidan... the only two lines that stood out for me were: the "elevenses" line from the clip above (started bumping into him every time he was about to say this so he would stfu... total tonal dissonance), and one he said while I looted Lucky Lorenz ("poor sod wasn't as lucky as his namesake would have you believe!") kai HOW do you know this man, and his nickname, who told you that??? (idc about it that much but its like the only other added line i remember)

I thought that maybe his ooc-iness might have been caused due to the collaborative approach of the mod, I think the mod authors created their own perfect Kaidan - and that's good for them! It takes a shit ton of work (Ik cuz i was there!!) But I think the original essence was lost with each addition. It might have been lack of direction for the voice acting too, a lot of the lines might have hit better if they weren't borderline screamed.

Okay, at some point while playing I got so tired of his constant himbo chit-chatter that I tried tuning him out and bringing other npcs from vanilla skyrim as followers. Problem: even without kaidan on your party, everything starts being about kaidan. Because the extension made it so that Kaidan either has history with/character interactions and development with different NPCs from the base game.

The main poor sods that traveled with me:

Erik the Slayer: Apparently was Kaidan's childhood friend, got inspired by Kaidan to become an adventurer. Least egregious in my opinion, they say sweet things to each other. I swear, Kaidan yells more at me than he ever did at Erik.

The Companions: dumb, dumber, and dumbest basically.. This part of EE/IF was also known as "The Fratpack" and y e a h they pretty much had Vilkas, Kaidan, and Farkas acting like immature frat boys all the time. Just,, absulutely taking away all the maturity out of these GROWN ASS MEN. im sorry, i guess i dont get the appeal. I liked it when they didn't behave like teens (Aela im so sorry, you deserved better than being part of this)

Lydia: All she does is simp for him, ALL.THE.TIME. You think she's about to have a meaningful thing to say? nope, she's checking out Kaidan's ass. Think she'll have a deep convo with another npc about one another? nope! she wants them to tell her all about Kaidan. Both the Companions and Erik will either talk down to her or have to deal with her thirst for Kaidan. i had to start leaving her home.

They also suffered from the same tonal whiplash as Kaidan, unfortunately

additionally, the mod added an "early flirt switch" - you could basically toggle Kaidan to start showing romantic affection for the Dragonborn before the amulet of mara., the interactions were good on paper, but everytime he stammered and stumbled over his words it was written in such an unnatural way... pls people don't talk like fanfics lol !!!

I did like that he gave me flowers, my inventory got full of them - but then he noticed how many flowers I had in my inventory and judged me for "picking everything i see" ugh dude you gave them to me, but also even if you hadnt... mind your business lol

Another addition was a feature that basically made it so NPCs could potentially throw flirtatious comments at Kaidan and the Dragonborn (Bishop flashbacks😨)

You can't do anything to defend Kaidan from those comments, but he WILL take it upon himself to defend your honor infront of any men, women, jarls, or criminals that even so much as find you attractive (THIS INCLUDES FARKAS AND VILKAS BTW :( ) by being rude, forthcoming, AND violent. so yea, you can guess the target audience

speaking of which, he definitely comes on too strong on you once you start the romance, and it left a bad taste in my mouth. I specifically picked the "go slow" option for the romance, and the next day or two it was him constantly complaining about having to go slow under his breath, how he wanted to do anything but slow rn... and like just, wow. :/ yikeees lmao

Maybe this is the result of "i can fix him" romance ideals? im sorry but I liked him when he was down to earth

Bonus? He comes with a campsite now, which has to be magic because its ginormous and he somehow lugs it around despite it also coming with a whole ass furnace (fine fine i'll hold my disbelief)

anyway I do like it, its basically a player house you can take anywhere (so long as kai is with you ig) also you can have a cat in there

I like that there is an MCM, I like that the MCM lets you get through the quest stages in case you get stuck

I like that he can guide you places, usually he gets stuck in a tree or rock but its the thought that counts

I think if the mod had continued in the vein as its original iteration when it was just audio/bug fixes and included these qol features it would have been better than it is now.

But it seems maybe i'm just not the target audience, and as a young woman I'm really confused as who the target audience is 😓

okay im srry rant over

if anyone else wants me to yap about other kaidan skyrim things also ask or join in cuz i like yapping about skyrim and kaidan to people!!!

#anon im so sorry you opened pandoras box with that one #my most favorite interest ever so i must yap about it #kaidan 2 #kaidan skyrim #skyrim custom followers #tesblr #skyrim #tes v skyrim #kaidan mod #modded skyrim #this new kaidan is evil!kaidan he is evil he does not respect woamen #also please don't judge me for giving him a chance 3 time i thought he'd get better😔#im looking at the workshop version of him with a lil hope but EE/IF disappointed me so bad i cant trust anything anymore #pls just give my man an mcm

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theshslpumpkinghost · 2 months ago

Text

Rose Ch2 Culprit Theory!!

(Spoilers for Ch2 Ep12! (and literally every episode before that too)

(i know it probably isn’t her, but i wanted to post my theory regardless! Also, this is unfinished, I just wanted to post it before Ep13 comes out- I’m so sorry to anyone who reads through my stupid little rambles-)

(reminder that all of this is silly stuff my brain thought of while i was sleep deprived after ep12 so- none of this is probably relevant-)

I was looking at DRDT culprit theories for Ch2 and randomly though what if it's Rose-? 'Cause after they found the body, Rose was right outside the room, in the hallway- She was the one who found evidence that nobody else would have found, since it was hidden in the trash can, and more than that, it was evidence that specifically framed someone else. She mentions not wanting to see the body, so she's unable to help with the crime scene, unlike in ch1, where she helps by using her photographic memory to draw a picture of the crime scene before it got disturbed.

But WHAT IF the reason she doesn't want to go in is because she doesn't want to end up accidentally revealing herself as the killer- Like- First off the BDA thing, where 3 people who hadn't seen the murder needed to set it off- This isn't actual evidence, really, but i thought i could mention it- uh- Anyways! Another way she might reveal herself as the killer is being too- useful- Like, how Min volunteered to help Teruko investigate in Ch1, but it was actually just to make sure Teruko didn't figure out it was her. So- Rose could've made a fair assumption that Teruko or someone else could be suspicious- And so she used the excuse of not wanting to see the body as a way to get out of it.

The reason she might want to escape is because of her family- Who she put into debt and also got them out of it- So she obviously cares about them, ergo, motive for murder. (maybe she was reminded of this when Teruko told her the secret she got-? idk lol)

Plus, she mentions the grippy tape in the gym, and how she used it to be able to do a pullup- So she could've used it to get a better grip on the spinny thing during the murder. (I know it’s probably just a way for the tape to be introduced before the murder) She could've taken it from the gym whenever, and since she's the one who mentioned it was missing- Could be to get rid of suspicion. although she wasn't there when the tape disappeared from the gym, you can't rule out that she might have an accomplice- Or she could be the accomplice, either or-

Also, I've seen a lot of culprit Eden with accomplice Levi, but what about culprit *Rose* with accomplice Levi- Just a thought I had.

Rose culprit with Levi accomplice theorists wya

Another thing is the fact that she hides her face when talking to Teruko in the hallway after Arei's body is found- which means we can't see her expression. And since her voice is usually monotone, even when talking about stuff she cares for, we can't get any clues about her emotions from that either-

She's also the first one to mention that the evidence from the murder is probably hidden on the second floor, since it would be difficult to make elevator trips without people noticing it- This isn't *too* suspicious, but also, it could be. Because sometimes Danganronpa is so fucking sneaky and hides stuff in obvious places-

None of this is really concrete evidence it's her, even though she *does* try and push everyone back to assuming the murder happened at night, rather than in the morning like Teruko proved it did, during episode 12- And in Ch2 in general, Rose has been- kind of derailing the trial a bit. Not too noticeably, but a few things-

1- She *did* agree with Ace somewhat when he brought up Nico being the killer. Which is understandable, considering that they *did* lie and steal from her- But it could also be evidence of her trying to blame someone else for it without being overly suspicious.

2- She spends some time in Ch2 Ep9 trying to convince people that Arei committed suicide and not murder. Maybe a normal assumption, but given that they're in a murder trial, talking about a murder, and Veronika had already mentioned that Arei wouldn't have been able to snap her neck by jumping from the swingset- Plus the rule that if it *was* suicide, MonoTV wouldn't hold a trial. And since Rose has a photographic memory, she should've remembered that, right? She even mentions this- in the trial- She then brings up the possibility of assisted suicide, instead of continuing with the murder assumption like everybody else- Rose could've helped Arei kill herself, but this isn't a theory about that, it's about her being a murderer so-

Also, she hasn't fallen asleep once in T2 yet. Which is- strange considering she did in T1. And plus the fact that she possibly uses sleeping as a form of escapism. Maybe because she needs to contribute more to this trial for it to work, but it's still suspicious- I might just be reading too much into it idk- Maybe the reason she isn't sleeping this trial because she doesn't have anything to specifically try and escape right now. Unlike T1, Rose supposedly didn't see Arei's body, so she wouldn't be trying to forget it by sleeping through the trial.. But that's also not really evidence, mostly just guesses-

(Another thing- When the fish in the playground are brought up, she seems like she's going to say something- But then J interrupts and Rose just stops talking. Probably doesn't mean anything but I'm putting every Rose trial scene in here- )

She also doesn't have a reaction to the note being brought up, but she joins in after Teruko asks to see the note for the second time. She mentions how she and Whit figured Teruko wouldn't mind as much if Eden was the one who had the note- probably so Teruko could easily check if Eden was lying.

Rose doesn't talk for a while after that, but almost at the end of episode 10 she mentions that she doesn't have an alibi. Of course, this doesn't mean much, considering what happened in episode 12 where they find out that they got the whole time of the murder wrong- Which leaves almost nobody with an alibi. But I had to mention it so-

After that, she doesn't speak up again until Ace is mentioned as a suspect, and then she only mentions that Ace being on the second floor is suspicious. Which, again, normal assumption, but just let me have this- And after that, she brings up David's 'secret' of family depression not being on the board- Which starts David's whole Nagito arc that apparently lasted 2 hours-

Okay! Now on to episodes 11 + 12! Rose doesn't show up at the beginning part but she does show up when the others are talking about David's real secret. She mentions that no actual good came out of David pushing them to share their secrets- And then after that her only line immediately after David's reveal was just her talking about her memory again- And then after David and Hu's whole.. conversation, Rose mentions how David is 'Definitely the killer.' Which is, well, what everybody else assumed, too- I just think it's interesting how Rose only shows up in this trial when somebody else is being blamed.

After David's whole 'I killed Arei, blah blah blah' moment, Rose speaks up and says they should just vote now. Levi agrees, and he actually almost tells MonoTV to start the voting time. She's really pushing for just whoever seems the most suspicious at the moment- I mean, plenty of characters have done it, but it's still really interesting to me. Mostly because if Teruko hadn't stopped them, everyone would literally be dead. David's plan would've worked-

Okay! Now Ep12-

Rose doesn’t show up for a lot of it- again- But her first appearance in this ep was when Teruko realised her mistake. All she does is say that it was kind of a big mistake and that’s it. Nothing else about it from Rose. She doesn’t speak up during Arturo’s rant either. Rose is shown when Charles asks if anyone has any counterpoints against Arei being killed at 7:30AM, but she doesn’t say anything.

And then they go back to alibis, and like before, Rose still doesn’t have one. She never has one, because she’s always asleep- But that’s not evidence, really, because nobody (besides 3 people) even have an alibi for this-

She doesn’t show up during David’s monologue either, but then nobody really shows up during that besides J, David, Hu, and Teruko, so-

She comments on how scary Hu is after she interrupts David, but Rose still hasn’t contributed much in this ep- Although it was more focused on David and Xander, so that makes sense. When they talk about alibis again, Rose still doesn’t have one. Which isn’t surprising. After that, but before Levi derails the trial, Rose speaks up and mentions not having any clues and not knowing where to go from here-

But that’s all for this theory so far! uh.. I’ll probably finish it at some point- but i wanted to get it out before ep13 so- I’m so sorry to anyone who reads through this absolute rambling bullshit-

#drdt #danganronpa despair time #mage talks #drdt chapter 2 #chapter 2 culprit theories!!#mage’s long as fuck ramble #rose lacroix #none of this makes sense i’m so sorry #it’s not even finished why is it long #i did not proofread this #my brain is just full of random thoughts #the VAs in ep12 were SO GOOD I AHDKAJCJAKFI #HU DAVID AND TERUKO’S VAS I LOVE YOU

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whentherewerebicycles · 6 months ago

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gonna do some reflective journaling about the rest of my BIRTH EXPERIENCE under the cut

i had a really good birth experience in retrospect. the induction part where we were trying to get my body to actually go into labor was super hard and weirdly demoralizing. obviously no one could give me any clear indication of how long it would take and it was really hard to manage my own expectations and mentally prepare for it to take anywhere from 12-48 hours or longer to get my body into labor. i think all the normal big feelings around birth itself were exacerbated by being so sleep deprived going into it & in so much pain from my hands… like it was just hard to be like i've felt so bad for so long and i am afraid i'm about to be in a lot more pain that will compound the existing pain and also i have no clear timeframe for when either pain will end. also i think i was still a little traumatized by the foley balloon experience lol. like i think that if the promised dilation had happened over 12-24 hours like they expected maybe it would've felt less abrupt and violent, but instead it took less than 2 hours and was SUPER painful at the end, which then terrified me because i was like wow if birth is even worse than this how am i going to handle it. i had a total meltdown around 9pm the first night (sunday night) just being like I'LL HURT FOREVER AND I DON'T EVEN FEEL EXCITED ABOUT THE BABY ANYMORE BECAUSE I'M SO FOCUSED ON THE FACT THAT I'LL HURT FOREVER. but my mom and sister were SO good through the whole process and so loving and i felt a lot better after having a big cathartic cry about it.

the other hard part of the induction was that the pitocin contractions really were kind of a lot to handle. i was intellectually prepared for that after reading about it but physically it is hard to prepare for pain you have not yet experienced! i also have no experience of natural contractions to compare them to but it felt like they just got REALLY intense really fast and were so close together that it felt like there wasn't a lot of time to rest/recover after each one. from about 11pm to 4am when i got the epidural i was just in a lot of pain. my sister was sooo good through this part. she got up around midnight and we just hung out and she did counter-pressure for me on every contraction from maybe 2-4am when they got really intense and close together and also she helped me wash my hair which was for some reason extremely important to me.

the other part that i found hard about the contractions-with-no-pain-management part was that the night nurse was not all that helpful or sympathetic and mostly seemed kind of annoyed that i was asking for the epidural so early (i was a little over 5cm dilated at the time). and that made me feel embarrassed because i felt like a wimp!looking back on it i feel like i could've endured longer but also i was just SO tired from being awake and in escalating pain/discomfort for 24 hours and i was really overwhelmed by the idea of spending like six more hours of doing this on no sleep. but also looking back on it: who cares about what some nurse thinks of me!! i was the one in my body and i was feeling overwhelmed and it was ok of me to not want to be in pain anymore. anyway the epidural was incredible, i loved it, i want to marry my anesthesiologist, etc etc. i still think if i have another baby and am able to have a non-induce birth i would be interested in trying an unmedicated birth or at least seeing if contractions without pitocin allowed me to get further. it was an interesting physical experience and i think if i hadn't been so tired and in so much hand pain i might have found it more intriguing to keep going & to see what else that experience had in store for me. but as it was: i am fine with how it went down! and i was Ready to not be in pain.

anyway: got the epidural around 4am or so on monday and immediately crashed SO hard. like i was falling asleep sitting up at the table after they injected the pain meds. the anesthesiologist said that was normal lol i guess you don't realize how much adrenaline is coursing through your body bc of the pain until the pain is abruptly & totally removed and then your body is like PHEW!!! TIME TO COLLAPSE. i did indeed collapse. i slept three hours, just like the deepest and most uninterrupted slumber i've slept since literally late march, and woke up feeling like a new human. at that point they did a cervix check and i was i think at 6ish cm? so they let me sleep another three blissful hours and then i woke up and they were like whoa you're at 9.5cm it's almost go time. then we had a frantic 45 min or so of getting ready (i was like i NEED to BRUSH my TEETH!!!!!! i cannot BIRTH this BABY without BRUSHING MY TEETH but of course i could not walk so my sister had to bring me all the things aha). and then it was go time!!!!

pushing was hilariously fast ahaha this was by far the easiest part of my labor. everyone was in a great mood and the vibes were good and i felt like i had newly acquired superpowers after sleeping for SIX WHOLE HOURS. i spent so much time getting myself emotionally ready for it to take hours and be really hard, and then i think i pushed for like, five sets of three 10-second pushes, and he was there. it took 27 min total and would've been even faster except that they made me stop and wait for five-ish min while his head was RIGHT there in the birth canal (i saw it in the mirror!!!!!! it was insane!!!!!) because someone had to RUN and grab the OB. then i pushed for one more set and he was out!!!!! it was crazy!!!!! his cord was so short they ended up clamping and cutting it right away so they could put him on my chest. when they first threw him on me it was kind of terrifying because he was SO still and silent, and also a very dark purple/blue color, and i was like oh my god. he's dead. he's dead. i made it this far and he died. it was so scary gahhh i'm crying just thinking about it!! but then they started massaging him and patting his back and he coughed a bunch and started crying. they made him cry a LOT and checked his lungs a bunch the first 15 min or so because they were full of gunk/didn't sound so great, but he cleared it all by crying up a storm and then he was fine!!! and not so purple!!! and he was all mine he was my healthy baby boy!!!! he cried so much because it's scary to be born but we did it!!!!

wahhhh it was so good i want to remember it forever i am bawling again thinking about it. my guy!!!! he was so little and squashed and such a funny color and he opened his eyes and looked at me!!! and now he's just mine he's my baby!!!!! he had big dark eyes and big hands with long long fingers and long narrow feet with long delicate-looking toes and perfect little orecchiette ears and a truly majestic conehead from coming out of the birth canal ahaha. a perfect baby!!!! he weighed 7 lbs 14 oz at birth and was 21 inches long, and everyone kept saying phew if he'd had three more weeks to cook in there he would've been a BIG boy!!! i love him so much he is so perfect. oh also they gave me a 'placenta tour' which was very fun and also kind of horrifying like ouch that ripped off the side of my uterus?? also i had a small tear they had to stitch up but nothing too bad. idk the main event was obviously the BABY and he was perfect and everything was perfect and it was worth it to go through the shitty parts of induction to get him early. my kiddo!!!!! i love him!!!!

#pregnancy tag #baby tag #:))))

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pineapplefulfillseveryneed · 6 months ago

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Sparks tour 2023 part 3: The Royal Albert Hall - show #2

Got to be honest: I was falling apart at this point during the tour. It had been another night of only managing to sleep about 2 hours at most and after a full week of sleeping 2 to 5 hours a night it unfortunately became clear my breaking point had now been reached: I was feeling so ill from sleep deprivation. In the morning I wasn't sure I'd be able to go to the show, but I could be upright when the time came so the show was on! 💕 ...even if perhaps I would have to stay seated the entire time, which felt like it would be somewhat acceptable because we were seated about as far from the stage as possible this night. I ended up not remaining seated though, we're talking Sparks here after all, but please keep in mind that there might have been more to the show than I can relay. (Also, once again, a big thank you to my tour buddies! :))

Mr.B The Gentleman Rhymer

I'd gotten super hooked on his song Looking Forward To Leaving by now and I had sung it quite a bit back at the hotel now that I'd caught more of the lyrics so I was super stoked to hear it again this evening, regardless of how I was feeling 🌞 I also especially enjoyed his incorporated dance moves for this song, so at this night that was my recording choice when it came to his set. You can see and hear it below :) Mr.B had also incorporated a little sales pitch for The Girl Is Crying In Her Latte this evening which was beautiful. *big thumbs up*

youtube

Before Sparks came on we could spot @nocribdoll from where we were seated and said hello from a distance by means of banana dance which was both great and effective! We also spotted Edgar Wright in the audience which was cool - we're so lucky that he was the one to make the documentary, with him being such a big fan ^^

Sparks

Sparks entered the stage to another big and beautiful applause. There was a little mess up with the first line of So May We Start which was soon caught and rectified, and honestly there's something to be said about opening one's second Royal Albert Hall show with the line “they hope that it goes the way it's supposed to go”. I for one very much respect that, and the way Russell immediately switched to the right lyrics was so impressive that it made me question if what came before had happened at all. (I'm partially sorry to be highlighting a mess up, but I just really liked it and there is footage.)

The audience was so amazing yet again, and we again got to enjoy one of those especially grand applauses already when we were just two songs into the show 💖 and, there was a small change in the setlist: they played VERONICA LAKE! Russell gave the song a proper introduction (a little history lesson with Sparks, if you will👌🏻) The performance was intense and beautiful and I really loved when the instrumental part hit :) (Unfortunately it later turned out to have been instead of Escalator (nooo my beloved!!!), but getting to hear Veronica Lake live really was a treat!)

The only upside about my tiredness was that I sucked a little less with capturing parts of the show in a less bouncy manner, but it's still Sparks so... (who was I kidding with “maybe I'll stay seated”💖) I captured a little bit of Music That You Can Dance To because it's a song I'm so keen to remember at every show and then it was time to dance our asses off and bring the party to this balcony! (We may have been far away, but we were front row in our section, so we started the party here just as much as we'd have done anywhere else in the hall ✨) I did a little banana at the right point in the song too, which funnily enough @nocribdoll managed to spot me doing 😂 I captured bits of Beaver O'Lindy (something I hadn't been able to resist on any night anyway because it is so special live), Russell's introduction to It Doesn't Have To Be That Way (ever since first seeing the show it was clear that his introductions to it were amazing and a little different every night), and Toughest Girl In Town (because of it being one of the most special songs to @dinkydiamond, and it just being great in general obviously ^^) But I think most of all I was capturing a lot of applause between songs, because the sound of these large audiences really was something that set the Royal Albert Hall shows apart 💕

When Gee, That Was Fun started the sadness really hit - nearing not just the end of this show, but also our part of the UK tour and that would mean saying goodbye to friends. (I couldn't listen to the song for a while after shows because it made me miss everything too much.) Luckily that's of course not where the show ends, we still had more applauding to do and we had an encore left! I really treasure A Love Story live and I could not love the choice for it as part of the encore more. I had loved it so much every night so far but it was cool as hell to see it from this perspective, facing the stage straight on yet far away. Those light effects *really* hit in full force when you can see the whole of it. (Not over the voice Russell does in parts of that song btw. SO GOOD.)

Apart from Veronica Lake there had been no major changes to the show, but why change a winning game? Edgar Wright took the audience photo once more, and the audience once more swayed its torches for All That. My memory is terrible in remembering any jokes that may have been made at this show (hell, I can't even remember Balls, my dearly beloved 😭) but at the end Russell blew a kiss up to @nocribdoll which was beautiful and I had accidentally captured him doing so, which wins :) They had to leave the stage a bit more swiftly than the previous night because Russell said they had a thing in the morning, but the applause had been so amazing yet again 💖

…And so ended the adventure of Sparks at the Royal Albert Hall.

Outside of the venue conversations were flowing like usual but as anyone present will know: I really was too broken to partake at that point. I had half a mind to go say thank you to Mr.B but having taken two steps in the direction of the merch table I already turned around knowing very well I couldn't do it this night. Somehow I still had managed to bring sufficient enthusiasm and energy to the show though, which honestly was a relief! 😌✊🏻 I'm really glad the power of Sparks had simply been too strong for me to remain in my seat. (There even had been a random guy on Twitter who had sat behind us in the balcony who had given us a shout out and had posted a picture of us dancing! I'm very fond of that photo, thanks random guy!)

#sparks tour 2023 #sparks tour 2023 europe #london #royal albert hall #sparks #ron mael #russell mael #mr.b the gentleman rhymer #may 30 2023 #2023 #20's #i was there #writeups to follow will probably be longer and with more fun details and photos ^_^ (the time in the balconies has come to an end!)#hope to write the next one soon :)#Youtube

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savebatsartedition · 2 months ago

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Whumptober 2024 Day 8:

Summary:

Mumbo… is the moon big? Prompt pieces used: SLEEP DEPRIVATION | Forced to Stay Awake

Notes:

It is past two in the morning but I am GOING to forget to post this if I don't do it now. Content Warnings: Mentioned cult, mildly unreliable narrator, self imposed sleep deprivation (but in a “forced” sort of way) Words: 1,062

(Fic also under the cut.)

The moon was starting to really swell to a concerning size now. At first, when Grian had said those fateful words to him, Mumbo hadn't been entirely sure about the truth of the mater, but as each night grew brighter and each jump got higher and higher, he was beginning to understand what was going on.

Well, maybe understanding was the wrong word for it. He didn't understand what was happening. Despite being so often dubbed as one of the smartest redstone scientists of the country (and of the whole world, for that matter), Mumbo had to admit that, when it came to this issue, he had absolutely no standing. He didn't know why the moon was bigger, what that meant for him, the other Hermits, or the other people living in the country. He didn't even know how he might go about stopping it! (And trust him, once you've invented walking houses, you start to believe that there really is no problem that you cannot solve if you just put your mind to it.)

But, clearly, he had reached a point where he could solve no longer. Despite all of his work, there was nothing more he could do. There was not enough redstone in the whole world to reach the moon, let alone fix it.

Nervously, Mumbo brushed his fingers through one side of his mustache, pulling slightly (and likely smudging his pale skin with the red glow he was so known for) in order to think better. He didn't know what was happening, he didn't know why it was happening, and he didn't know how to stop it. Worse, nothing he did seemed to make anything better for his jumbled thoughts, let alone for the actual reality of the situation that he found himself in.

So, what could a man do when he couldn't think as clearly as he wanted to? Some other Hermits might have suggested, for example, taking a quick flight around the server, dropping boats all over the Big Eyes (again), or working on some personal project to pass the time.

But when none of that was working quite right, what could you do? He was very in tune with how the world should work, exactly how long a well made rocket should last undamaged elytra wings in flight, exactly how long it should take for a standard oak boat to fall and splash into the cove of the Big Eye's district, exactly how his redstone should take to tick and go.

It had been the redstone first, that he had noticed. Dust floating into the air in amounts that it absolutely shouldn't have, even after being activated. (He had a very distinct memory from a couple of months ago, back when the moon hadn't seemed quite so big, of random missing pieces in his redstone circuits.) Old target block farms refusing to function, the arrows seeming to completely miss their show every time a dispenser fired them. And the speed at which the redstone worked... It was just wrong.

There was no other way to put it.

He knew it was ridiculous, but Mumbo had decided on a way to deal with the moon. He knew it wouldn't work, he knew he had better things to do, but how could he? He just wanted to get through this, to fix this, to study this interesting phenomenon. But there was no use in that if he couldn't find a new angle to look at it from, since clearly the moon did not take kindly to his view of the works of the world.

And what was the easiest way to change your tune?

Maybe he could try out one of those fancy floatation rings from the X Life country (though it had been so long crumbled that he was not entirely sure it existed anymore). Maybe he could ask Grian to take him for an elytraless flight (though, on second thought, Grian's sparrow wings may have been a bit too small to lift Grian and Mumbo.)

Or, they should have.

With the way the gravity had begun feeling, Mumbo was starting to think that anything was possible.

So, of course, if anything was possible, staying awake would be too? He would just stay awake. It was that simple. Stay awake until the moon went down (as it now seemed to wrap the sky no matter what time it was), stay awake until he found out what was going on and if there was a way to stop it. It couldn't be that hard. He worked well under pressure! He'd done this before, and he swore it had never gone badly before (though he was also a remarkable liar when it got past his bedtime), what could go wrong?

Hey, and, since he was so wonderful trustworthy and well read, he even had a chance to get people to go along with it with him, right? If using his mind wasn't working to get the problem finished, he might as well try and use something else to, right?

...

But how would one describe the action of forcing oneself to stay awake for days and weeks on end? (He could do it because of the large amount of healing potions he was constantly downing.) Perhaps as an act of desperation, some manic last shot at something unreachable. Or maybe more like hope, just letting go and placing your trust in your own stupidity to carry you to the finish line.

Yeah.

Something like that.

Something heroic, something smart. Something that sounded like Mumbo's old self, before all of this had began happening.

Now, as blocks drifted from the ground around him, tearing away and crashing back down the second they seemed to remember that what they were doing was wrong- oh how far was he gone? assigning emotions and thoughts to pieces of broken earth -his body just ached.

Despite what he told the others, he did not know what he was doing. How could he? He was just a Hermit like the rest of them, just another leader in a leaderless land. His eyes burned with tiredness, and a chunk of hair detached and fell with his tired arm as he brushed his fingers through it.

But he could get it.

He knew this would work.

He knew it.

(Or maybe he just had to believe it.)

#whumptober2024 #no.8 #SLEEP DEPRIVATION | Forced to Stay Awake #writing #fanfic #hermitcraft #mcyt #sleep deprivation #implied/referenced cults #mumbojumbo #whumptober

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mumufic · 1 month ago

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A Muggle!Lily AU

So, since I finished Mirrors, I decided it was time to embark on another long-ass fic, this time in answer to and inspired by this Reddit prompt. Because it's just so delicious!

I haven't figured out what ships I wanted to do here probably Prongsfoot because these days, that's how I roll. But here's a snippet to share.

Characters: James Potter, Sirius Black, Harry Potter, Petunia Evans (Potential) Pairings: James Potter/Sirius Black Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Sorry Lily died, Harry needed the mother's love protection, And I guess the prophecy needed it too, The Marauders are adults now!, They have completely adult lives!

Prologue: The Accident

Lily Evans flicked another nervous look up at the rearview mirror. Driving at night when she could very well simply have taken a train to Bath and hired a taxi from there should have been what she'd thought of the moment Alice's invitation came through on the mail. But then she had been burning her midnight oil slaving over that stupid thesis statement that her thesis team decided not to go with anyway. Harry had started crying, and if Petunia heard, there was no end of hell to pay, especially if Harry's crying - caterwauling, more like - woke Dudley up, and then she and her recently divorced sister would both be up all night trying to quell the babies well into the morning, whereupon the neighbors would quietly judge the two scarlet lettered Evans sisters for their poor choices in life.

But the reality was she'd been sleep-deprived, hungry, and tired, and her toddler had a great many odd things happening to him lately. Things she hadn't been able to explain. Things Petunia thought Lily might want to find experts to speak with, because Dudley had none of the same symptoms and Petunia was beginning to grow frightened for Harry.

Things Lily thought people would think her mad if she tried to actually find child doctors to try to explain them to.

Even now, as she watched Harry fidget with the straps of his car seat, she was not entirely sure Alice knew altogether what Lily was going through with her son. Twin floating globes of eerie pink and purple lights hovered over Harry's chubby hands, and the boy giggled as he let go of the straps and poked at the lights, making them spin in the black, empty air of the vehicle's backseat. Lily almost wanted to smile at the innocent delight Harry took in the simple action. Almost.

If only those lights hadn't actually been there ten seconds ago, which was the last time she'd checked on Harry before turning her attention back to the yawning expanse of empty country road before her.

“It's not that strange,” she told herself, keeping her eyes on the gleam of the white paint of the road signals in the borrowed car's headlights and resolutely not looking back to gawk at the way Harry had started ping-ponging the lights to the car's ceiling.

Not that strange at all.

I wish my Neville's shown similar, visible signs, he’s scarcely ever turned the table wine into Jell-O. Wish my mother-in-law wouldn't badger the poor child, but ah, well. What can you do with these country ladies and their expectations on their poor sons and grandsons.

That had been what Alice had said when Lily had first accidentally knocked into her at a pub just outside of uni. Poor girl had been so unstable on her feet stepping out of the loo, Lily had thought she was high. She hadn't been, of course. She'd been talking with another friend whose name escaped Lily now even though the three of them had ended up sitting at the bar together and Lily had somehow poured out her terrified observations of her son to these two twinkly-eyed strangers who had been so kind in telling her she was not slowly going mad from exhaustion between her part-time work, uni, and Harry.

That meeting had perhaps singularly saved her son's life. She'd been so terrified she might have to... to place some strange calls to the NHS, and then the doctors would tell her that she would have to bring Harry to Broadmoor and she'd never see her little angel again. Because she was terrified of what Harry could and sometimes did do, but she adored him all the same.

If only he'd thought to... create something else other than those strange lights. Or, well, if only Lily's ridiculous major wasn't literature and she wasn't writing a thesis on true cases of extra-sensory phenomena used to fuel Victorian horror literature. She was half-frightening herself with the things she'd read, and might even have considered shifting to a different major in her final year, if she wasn't mortified that Petunia would have to put up with another year of her mooching off her poor sister's meager junior nurse's salary.

Stop it, Lily Evans! she told herself sternly. You’re frightening yourself over nothing. Harry is a perfectly normal, healthy boy. It’s just that he—that he—

Wisely, she decided not to pursue that thought or it would lead to a slippery slope that would end in nothing but misery. Harry wasn’t the one at fault for his own predicament. That was all Lily and her stupid, wanton disregard for her older sister’s dire warnings not to spend too much time carousing when she should have been studying. Uni was free, but drinks weren’t, Petunia had told her. And with the meager inheritance from their suddenly dead parents, there wasn’t a lot to live on, not when Lily also had to rent a flat in London so she could live somewhere close to her school and not have to suffer a daily three-hour train ride to Birmingham and then another hour-long trek to Cokeworth. But did she listen?

Truly, she only had herself to blame, both for the condition she’d landed herself in after giving in to that charmingly soused and thoroughly infectious grin of the bespectacled boy at the club. A boy whose name she hadn’t even caught over the sensory overload of music, grinding bodies and far, far too much alcohol.

She could have had an abortion when she found out. Tuney was studying to be a nurse, after all, and her older sister would not have let her be tarred by the judgment of her peers if she had. But not only had she decided to carry to term, she’d also decided to keep the child. And now, Harry was the one bright point in an overwhelming sea of misery and regret that had become Lily Evans’ life, all his strange powers and capabilities be damned.

No, it was just… just the season, she was sure. Halloween was supposed to be that one time of the year besides Christmas that she could let her hair down. She’d loved going wearing funny little costumes as a child, going door to door on Spinner’s End with Petunia in the hopes that their beleaguered neighbors had sweets to give out to bright-eyed little girls in identical witch costumes. She wanted her young son to have the same with the son of her new friend, even though the true nature of Lily’s visit to Alice Longbottom had little to do with trick or treating, and a lot to do with Lily’s need for commiseration that her son was alright, that he was normal, that the ability to conjure up ghostly lights in the darkened backseat of her borrowed car was not mind-numbingly terrifying, she might have peed herself when she first glimpsed Harry playing with them in the rearview mirror.

Yes, just the season, and nothing more. This was not the first time Harry had done such a thing, nor would it be the last. And Lily Evans was nothing if not a practical who only sometimes made impractical decisions.

Impractical decisions that tended to ruin lives.

Like taking up literature instead of something immediately useful like typing. Like taking a portion of the inheritance she received to dull the pain of losing her parents in a screaming, wild dance club. Like sleeping with a handsome boy whose name she did not know. Like keeping a child out of wedlock when she had neither money nor the means to bring the child up when her sister had given her a most practical way out. Like tearing apart said sister’s marriage when Vernon Dursley, that ass of an ex-husband Petunia had left, had the audacity to call her a wanton harlot over a weekend family dinner and her tossing the table wine on his ugly, puce face. Like—

“Stop,” she told herself, again and with more force. “Stop it, stop it, stop it!”

“Mummum?” Harry gurgled from the carseat in the back.

Lily shook her head, risking a backward glance to look at her son through eyes quickly filling with tears. She hastily wiped them away one-handed and cast a watery smile at her boy. Her favorite boy in the world.

“Mummy’s all right, little bean,” she murmured, craning a little so she could touch something, a small part of her sweet, handsome son, smiling at her so winsomely with those adorable little front teeth that looked like tiny saws in his mouth. “Just a few minutes more. Auntie Alice said she has a son your age that you can play with when we get there. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Mummum,” said Harry happily, leaning forward and swatting at her reaching fingers.

Lily wanted to grasp her son’s chubby little hands, but she remembered there was a fork in the road up ahead, and the slip road turned into a driveway that seemed to lead up into nothing. Maybe it was just that it was already so late and dark that she wasn’t seeing the Tudor-style manor house on top of a hill that Alice said was where her family lived. She could have sworn there was nothing up there but a bit of stunted trees that looked like they’d been struck by lightning.

Good God, she really shouldn’t have embarked on this… this pointless errand. What could Alice possibly tell her? That being able to conjure lights and sometimes make flowers bloom or wilt in an instant was normal toddler behavior? And so what if Alice had a boy of her own that she was convinced could do the same things Harry could? She should’ve stayed home and studied while Harry played alone. Better yet, she should have driven to Cokeworth, where Petunia and Dudley were and have her son play with his cousin instead!

“Mummy!” Harry suddenly exclaimed, the sound loud in the quiet hum of the car’s faint mechanical rumble.

Lily’s eyes darted up to the rearview mirror to see that Harry had slapped the balls of light from his face and was growing restless that they weren’t floating back to him fast enough for his liking. She let one hand drift from the steering wheel, for what reason she wasn’t sure. Maybe to quell the beginnings of a temper tantrum, or maybe just to comfort her obviously bored child.

Whatever it was, it distracted her enough that she took her eyes off the road, right at the T where the road forked. And then suddenly, there was a pop from outside the car and something big and black and reflecting nothing of the incessantly bright headlamps crashed against the front of the car. It rolled over the hood, the sound of metal denting from the impact a sonorous screech in the silent night, before the thing rolled upwards over the windshield, cracking the glass, and bounced on the roof of the car.

Lily screamed as she hit the brake pedal, the hand still on the wheel fighting to gain control of the suddenly careening vehicle as the tires screamed on the tarmac, and the car spun out of her control, straight towards a copse of trees just past the T fork.

Glass rained down as the windshield gave from the impact. More shrieks of metal as the front of the car dented and bent around the trunk of one tree, pushing the screamingly hot engine inward, onto Lily’s bent legs, onto her unprotected belly. Onto her, and eventually her son.

She hadn’t even the chance to plead with the good Lord for her life as pain sizzled through her with the crush of her legs, the stab of the wheel on her sternum. Her head lolled forward, her entire body like a rag doll given over to the implacable centrifugal forces of the out-of-control vehicle, and bumped, hard, on the upper bend of the wheel.

But even in the madness of the accident, she fought to keep her vision, suddenly rimmed with a wash of red, steady as she tried to twist to check on her son. Instead of Harry, what she saw was a dark gray mist erupting from where the thing she’d hit lay mere meters from where the car had finally rolled to a stop, its dangerous trajectory impeded by the trees.

The mist was heading for them, traveling at a speed no wind could have carried.

No, she thought. It wasn’t her, for she knew she was dying. It was heading for her son. Her sweet, beautiful son, who was still alive, still fidgeting in his car seat, still uninjured save for a small cut on his forehead oozing blood.

“No, no, no,” she whimpered, powering through the haze, powering through the agony. Powering through impending death. The mist was in the car now, enveloping her and Harry. “Not my son, please not my son! Take me instead! Take me! I’m dying anyway!”

She didn’t know what else she babbled. What else might have escaped the burst of pain ripping through her chest as the wild lights from her blinking, shattered headlamps spun. There was a whoosh in her ears as the mist seemed to coalesce before her for a moment. It was as if she was in a wind tunnel. She couldn’t see anything, hear anything, feel anything, but the rushing sound of that thick, oily, dark mist, the heaviness of it blanketing the interior of the cramped vehicle.

It seemed to grow, seemed to expand, seemed to encompass everything she was. And then it sharpened, as if into a knife point and stabbed into her beloved son’s forehead. There was another loud, inhuman screech as the mist tore itself apart even as it drove deeper and deeper into Harry’s weeping wound.

Distantly, she thought she heard a baby crying. She wanted to go to it, the maternal instinct in her to protect and comfort a squalling babe still strong despite the unending agony her body bore. But she was tired. So very tired. And in so much pain. She couldn’t take it. She could barely keep her eyes, already awash with blood–so much blood!–open.

And then, at last she breathed her last, and Lily Evans, her undying love and her sea of regrets, was no more.

#my writing #james potter #sirius black #harry potter #hp fanfic #prongsfoot #maybe idk yet #marauders in canon era #lily evans #mcd

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