#like there are so many similarities with these two snippets of a scene

[backjustforberena]

Corlys and Rhaenys at their daughter's wake, with their grandchildren. DO NOT REPOST.

[lilislegacy]

https://www.tumblr.com/fate-of-the-envious/748795886289780736/concerning-snippets-from-pjo-chalice-of-the-gods?source=share

So, I'm neutral on Percabeth, but this post kind of has a point.

Do you have any counter arguments for these points? I want to keep an open mind and you seem like you'd have some good arguments.

Anon, thank you for the ask. I typically don’t respond to requests that want me to talk about someone else’s post, but I have some serious points to make here and I mean business. I am not trying to start anything or call OP out; I am just stating my own personal interpretation of this scene, along with other quotes that I will inform you all of, and the possible issues brought up. Nobody go attack OP. They have a right to believe what they believe and to post what they want.

For those who don’t click the link (though I think you should), the original poster is discussing the scene in Chalice of the Gods where Annabeth pushes Percy off the cliff into the water. The post basically says that Annabeth endangered him by not telling him what was going to happen, pushed him into dirty, unsafe water, and is responsible for him getting harmed and bloodied up. Then they say that this is proof that Percabeth is an unhealthy relationship.

So, I have two major thoughts on this post, and one major problem with it.

My first thought: I think it goes back to the same thing that the judo flip does. Was it the best way to do things? No. But was she abusing him? No.

I feel like people keep trying to act as if Percy and Annabeth are regular human beings. They are not. Can we as a fandom PLEASE stop acting like they have similar experiences, expectations, and physical limitations as regular people? As if they don't almost die on a consistent basis? As if danger isn't part of their everyday life?

The words “push him off a cliff” are alarming to us because we imagine a giant mountainside and immediate death. But that was far from the case here. She pushed him off a little hillside ledge into some water. Could a regular human get hurt from that? Sure. But again: they are NOT human. They are half-god. They are hybrids—humanoids, even. They don't get hurt or feel pain like we do. How many freaking times have they been slammed into concrete walls by giants? Pounced on by huge mythical creatures? Slashed, stabbed, and wounded by vicious monsters? Stuff that would immediately kill any one of us? A LOT. And each time, they are fine.

He is not going to get hurt like we would, and since she's the same way, she knows that.

My second thought, which I cannot stress enough:

She pushed him... into WATER. You know, his godly element—the thing that, when he's in it, puts him at his most powerful state; the same thing that heals any injuries he has; the thing over which he has total control and in which he spends most of his time.

By pushing him into the water, Annabeth put him in the safest possible scenario. Are people not reading the scene? The only way Percy was going to complete the quest (and it had to be him who did it) AND beat the river god was by being in the water. It gives him control over the situation.

Now for my major problem: The original post gives false information and takes everything out of context.

If you actually read the book, you’ll see that Annabeth KNEW he would be able to breathe because the water was not dirty where she pushed him in. In fact, right before he goes in, Percy states that the water below was “clear as glass, free of snakes, and just begging to be canonballed into” (pg. 126). Need I say more? (Don’t worry, I’m about to.)

THEN he says, “On the downside, it was ringed by sheer cliffs, with no obvious way down unless I wanted to ride the rapids downriver through Serpent Town.” So he knew he needed to jump in because that was the safest way for him to get there.

THEN Annabeth suggests, “You could jump in with the staff,” and Percy quite literally says, “Sure,” so now Annabeth knows he’s willing to jump down into it. But then Percy follows with, “The problem is climbing back up.”

However, Annabeth, ever so prepared, pulls out a rope. So Percy does have a safe way back up. She’s got him.

Then Percy remembers the river god and suggests that they take some time and make a plan, but then, from afar, they hear Grover start playing music, which means the deadly snakes were now all after Grover. Percy then goes, “The clock has started. Grover is in trouble.” And Annabeth says, “Times up.” That’s when she pushes him over.

He was going to jump in no matter what. That WAS planned. They discussed it. They were going to discuss a plan for what would happen if the river god showed up, but since their best friend was now in danger and both of their priorities were to protect him, they did not have time to make a plan. So Annabeth put the plan in action KNOWING that he would be okay in the water.

The only reason he got hurt—AFTER he landed safely and completely unharmed in the water—was because the river god attacked him, which was going to happen regardless when he tried to mess with the river. And then guess what happens IMMEDIATELY after the river god hurts him? The water—that Annabeth pushed him into, mind you—HEALED him. Just like it always has. Just like Annabeth knew it would if something were to happen.

The original post did not give half the information. It made it seem like Percy had no idea what was going to happen and that they hadn’t discussed it at all. The original post tells everyone that the water was filthy and that Annabeth didn’t know if he could breathe in it. The original post tells everyone that Percy was harmed BECAUSE of the jump. The original post tells everyone that it’s Annabeth’s fault that the river god harmed Percy—none of which are the case at all. The post is just a bunch of false statements coupled with out-of-context screenshots designed to manipulate people into feeling like they have to hate Annabeth Chase. It’s fine to not like Percabeth, but this post manipulates both the book and the viewers. Now, it’s fine to post opinions, but THIS aspect is not okay.

Now, could Annabeth have said, “Hurry! Jump!!”? Yes, she could have. That would have been the more gentle thing to do. But this was clearly a moment where a girlfriend thought it would be funny to push her boyfriend into some water—that he was about to dive into—instead of him jumping. No one here has ever pushed someone into a pool or off a diving board? Huh? I think it shows that their relationship is safe and comfortable enough that they can do things like that without it being a big deal. I feel like in most demigod relationships, this would not be seen as an issue. The only reason it seems to be on a larger scale here is because it's from a significant height, which again I'll remind you: doesn't get hurt easily + gets healed and powered by water = no injury happening. Annabeth also knew that Percy was comfortable jumping down into the water. It seems like a harmless situation to me. She made the decision knowing full well that he would be okay and safe because the water protects him. And all the negative and scary things that happened afterward were because the river god didn't want Percy to mess with the river. But Percy needed to mess with the river. Annabeth pushing him in did not cause that conflict.

Also, people are giving Percy no credit??? Why are we acting like he’s a weak little baby? This is Perseus Jackson, two-time Hero of Olympus, son of the brutal sea god. This guy is tough as nails, and Annabeth knows that and has full confidence in his abilities. People get mad when she is all soft and gentle with him because she’s “babying him,” but then when she treats him like an equal, capable demigod, they get mad because “she’s abusing him.” After she pushes him, Percy literally says that by doing it, Annabeth had “full confidence in [his] abilities” (pg. 128). She trusted that he could handle it because they are demigods and they HAVE to be able to handle things like this. She has seen him go through far, far worse than landing in some clean water and facing a minor god. She believes in him.

And isn't it somewhere around this time that Percy teaches Magnus, Annabeth's cousin, how to survive spontaneous deep plunges into icy cold water? Percy is such an expert on this that he teaches her cousin how to do it. Additionally, Percy and Annabeth quite literally fell into Tartarus—a slightly further drop than this—together, and survived because at the last minute they hit water, which protected Percy. And physically, he was fine then too. Plunging into water from heights is not a new experience for this dude. In fact, he's on the diving team at school—a little different, since that's coordinated, but still—the guy is very used to hitting water from heights. It's quite literally a daily thing for him. The only thing that shocked him here was the temperature of the water. And, mind you, this man has been to the bottom of the ocean. He recovered very quickly. Do people really think Annabeth pushed him in without the complete and utter certainty that he would be completely fine? I cannot stress how casual this is for him.

I would also like to add that Percy was in no way actually upset at her. A tad annoyed? Maybe, if you want to stretch things even more. But then, like, 2 seconds later after the river events, he's saying how cute she is, saying he loves her, kissing her, and they are laughing together. He is fine. They are fine. And if the roles were reversed and Annabeth was a daughter of the sea god and Percy affectionately pushed her off a ledge into some water, it still wouldn't be concerning.

I really do appreciate people like OP here wanting to call out harmful relationships in fiction, and I am never afraid to criticize Rick Riordan. I myself have said that I don't like how Annabeth acted in Wrath of the Triple Goddess (though I hold that against Rick, not Annabeth, since Rick openly admits he's writing them differently now to mirror the TV show versions). But Percy and Annabeth have consistently demonstrated themselves as mature, responsible, and kind human beings who love and support each other and make each other feel very safe and valued. Everyone is welcome to have their opinions and post whatever, but I really do think we should channel these types of discussions towards far more deserving issues, especially those that actually have factual reasoning behind them rather than false claims.

[chvoswxtch]

Hi it’s @feelmyskinonyourskin (can’t ask off anon cause I’m a side blog) I’d love to order a macchiato over ice from Frank please!!!! Congrats on 4K!

hi darling! thank you so much!

I appreciate you giving me the freedom to discuss all my slutty thots about frankie. I think one thing that doesn't get talked about enough is that frank secretly likes it rough so let's discuss

as a reminder over ice means it's spicy! (minors dni)

headcannon below the cut

frank castle secretly likes it rough

i've said it once & i'll say it again, i'll die on this fucking hill: frank castle is a hopeless romantic. he's an old fashioned, brings you flowers on the first date, arrives fifteen minutes early, opens every door for you, doesn't hesitate to pay the tab, doesn't expect you to invite him inside, perfect gentleman

he's a giver. he makes sure his partner is well taken care of before he even thinks about himself. in all the flashback scenes with maria, she's on top, & frank is letting her set the pace & do whatever she wants

in his scene with beth, we see a snippet of something similar to that but, we also see a hint of frank exercising a bit of control. the way he grabs her face where he's essentially grabbing her neck & face bc his hand is so damn big, how he's gripping the sheets, pinning her to the mattress completely- he's clearly holding back bc he probably doesn't wanna go too far & scare her, but there is another side of him that is dying to come out

it's something you catch onto, & something you wanna explore. not that you don't love slow & sweet romantic sex with frank, or flirty playful sex when a few drinks have loosened him up, but you want something more

but frank being frank is never going to ask you to let him be rough. it would make him feel selfish to use your body for his own benefit. he's also terrified of going too far & hurting you. he's so violent & dangerous in so many other aspects of his life, & he never wants you to see that side of him

but you know that frank would rather die than hurt you, so you make it your mission to convince him that he doesn't have to hold back anymore

one night while you're laying in bed, both of you half undressed, frank lying between your hips as you two share a heated & sensual kiss, his hand glides downward from your cheek to your neck, giving it the faintest of a squeeze before letting go. reaching out to grab his wrist, you pull back & stare up at him

"stop holding back."

frank looks down at you in pure puzzlement. he doesn't understand what you're talking about. he cocks his head to the side & searches your eyes for an answer

"stop doin' what?"

maintaining eye contact with him, you bring his hand back to your throat, placing your hand on top of his and squeezing it to show him that it's okay

"I know there's a part of you that wants more, and so do I. you can let go, frank."

when he catches on to what you're saying, his confusion melts into a serious look of apprehension, & he starts to shake his head

"sweetheart-"

you expected him to protest, so you already have your argument ready. you're not backing down from this

"frank, you're not gonna hurt me. you don't have to treat me like i'm made of glass. you can be rough with me. I can take it."

frank doesn't budge. he's still got that apprehensive look in his eyes, but you also see a flicker of need. you squeeze his hand one more time over yours to show him that this is what you want too

"I know what my limits are, frank. if it's too much i'll tell you, and I trust you enough to know you'll stop."

frank is silent for a moment, & you're worried that he's going to keep being stubborn. but then you notice how his eyes darken, & the low timber of his voice makes you shiver

"you promise you'll tell me the second I do somethin' you don't like?"

your eyes light up with excitement that frank is actually considering it. nodding your head eagerly, you stare up at him, feeling heat spread throughout your lower half

"I promise."

those two words of consent make something inside of him snap. this time when he captures your lips, his kisses are more aggressive & demanding, & they travel down the column of your throat. he bites down on your neck, not hard enough to hurt you, but just enough to leave a possessive mark behind that makes you squirm. he soothes the sting with his tongue & continues his assault on your neck, savoring the noises it pulls from you

his large hands are everywhere. squeezing your breasts, gripping at your hips, kneading your thighs, leaving faint bruises behind in his wake, all evidence of him completely giving in to his own desire

normally frank eases into you & gives you a moment to adjust, but not tonight. as soon as his thick cock is buried to the hilt inside of you, he's snapping his hips relentlessly, pounding you into the mattress

one of his hands holds both of your wrists, keeping them pinned above your head, and his other grabs your neck. his thumb is on the left side of your jaw and his index finger is on the right side, holding your face in place, while the rest of his fingers are wrapped right around your pulse point applying a little bit of pressure. frank always wants to be able to see your face when he's fucking you, but especially right now. he wants to make sure you're enjoying this as much as he is, watching you closely for any sign of discomfort

but all he sees is your mouth hanging open & your eyes nearly rolling into the back of your head. incoherent moans are leaving your lips, & your cunt is squeezing his cock in a tight grip. it makes the last of his resolve vanish & he's leaning in to grunt in your ear, speaking in a low & rough voice

"this what you wanted, baby? wanted it rough like this, yeah?"

frank is repeatedly hitting that spot inside of you that only he's ever been able to reach, the one that makes supernovas explode behind your eyelids & renders you speechless. he chuckles darkly at your inability to speak

"look at you, takin' my cock so well. bein' such a good girl for me, yeah? lettin' me have you like this?"

the room is filled with the echoes of skin slapping against skin, frank's feral grunts, & your incoherent moans that keep rising higher in volume & pitch. frank has you completely at his mercy, pinned to the mattress beneath his large body, hands held captive above your head. you can't move, not like you even wanted to, & you can't hardly speak to tell him how close you are, but he knows. he always knows

"gonna come already, sweetheart? you like it that much? shh shh shh...I know baby, I know you do. I can feel it, yeah? such a good fuckin' girl. go on baby, come for me. you've earned it."

frank fucks you through your orgasm, but he doesn't stop. he's still relentlessly thrusting, & even though it's overstimulating, it feels too good to want to stop. he groans in your ear when he feels your walls tighten around his cock & flood him with your release, but he hasn't come yet. gripping onto your hips even tighter, his thrusts somehow get even rougher, & in a matter of minutes you're barreling towards another orgasm

"want ya to give me one more, sweetheart. you can do that for me, yeah? c'mon, be a good girl and come for me again. that's it...that's a good girl...that's fuckin' it baby."

only when he feels you come for the second time does frank finally give in to his own release. his hips stutter as he digs his fingers into the soft flesh of your thigh, grunting loudly while he's emptying himself inside of you

while you're trying to catch your breath, frank gently caresses your cheek with his thumb, a stark contrast to how he was grabbing your throat just minutes ago

"you alright, baby? wasn't too much, was it?"

all you can do is let out a breathless laugh, staring up at him in a haze of bliss and incredulity

"are you kidding me? I can't believe you've been holding back on me this whole time."

frank just looks down at you with a huge grin on his face, leaning in to kiss you softly

"I won't anymore, if it makes ya happy."

once again, i need to be put down like a rabid dog

[i-wanna-write]

If One’s Different, One’s Bound to be Lonely - Wolverine Fic - Part 1

Fic Synopsis: We know Wolverine and Sabertooth but the reader is known as Jackal. Just like the other two, their mutation is animalistic, lending them healing factors, enhanced physical abilities, and animal senses. This fic details their relationship with the Anchor!Wolverine and how they ended up meeting the Worst!Logan

Chapter Warnings: violence, cussing, lewd comments/thoughts, reader is described as female

Word Count: 3k+

A/N: I’ve had this idea since I saw Deadpool and Wolverine so I figured I’d give it a go! I wanted to write Worst!Logan and SacredTimeline!Reader but wanted some backstory. Well, the backstory turned into backstories which then turned into this mini fic. Not sure how many parts there will be but no more than 10. This will start from when the reader was born, through snippets of the X-Men movies before FINALLY making its way to D&P. There's obviously going to be changes in scenes due to the reader and it's a fic so I can change what I want! I also love how Wolverine and Sabertooth are brothers in Origins so went with that. The timeline is also a little sketchy because D&W is set in 2024 and Logan 2029 but they discuss how Logan died already… so just bear with me on that… Let me know what you think!

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You were born in 1895 to two loving parents. They were older than the average parents, having struggled to conceive but finally being blessed with you. You were their pride and joy, providing you with all the clothes, toys, furniture, games, and literature you wanted.

You were a secluded child. You preferred being alone and were grateful for being an only child. You hated sharing your things and talking to others.

You were also a sick and frail child. You always caught a cold or broke a bone, or got a scratch. Your parents dragged you to numerous doctors, trying to find a reason for your ailments. It wasn’t until you hit puberty that the truth was revealed.

You were a mutant.

Your genetics carried an X gene and had different DNA then your parents.

A week laid up in bed with a constant fever, sweats, and chills, it was finally revealed when your fingernails elongated into claws, the rest of your baby teeth spilling out and adults ones replacing them. Only they were all razor sharp and could easily shred anything.

Your parents were hysterical at first. They prayed and waited for their miracle child but were terrified at first to learn that she was a mutant.

That she was different.

Your sense of sight was keener than the average human, you heard like a bat, your smell like a bloodhound. You no longer got sick. If you received an injury it healed in a matter of seconds.

Your parent’s initial fear turned into protectiveness and soon you were shut in - no longer allowed all the things you wanted. Your parents kept you at home, not letting you mingle with others your age in fear of something happening to you… Or you doing something to someone else.

As you grew older, you finally escaped your parents and never looked back. You moved around, being adaptable and able to change at any given moment and go with the flow of the environment. You were cunning and evaded anyone or thing you wanted to without thinking twice. And just like in childhood, you grew to be more territorial. You valued all your personal items and were always willing to defend what you called yours.

Through much research over your first years on your own - you were able to determine that all these traits were similar to that of an animal.

A Jackal.

Known for the same personality traits of your own, this dog breed also sported sharp teeth in all regions of their mouth and just as sharp claws to take down their prey. Soon, that's what you became known as.

You moved through the years alone, never staying in one place for more than a year due to the world's hate towards mutants. You often found secluded cabins and would purchase what you needed at a store, then hunted on your own for protein - using your abilities to your advantage.

If someone caused a problem for you, a man making a sexist comment. Someone shit talking other mutants. You didn’t hesitate to take them out. Your instincts would take over in that moment and your claws would disembowel them or your teeth rip out their throat.

Sometime during the 1950s, you were staying in a Montana cabin you found, the nearest town miles away. Occasionally, you would frequent a bar there, wanting a moment to feel the whiskey slide down. It was in that bar that you met two other mutants for the first time.

You were seated alone at a table in the tavern, dressed in slacks, a button shirt, and jacket, A cap was on your head, hiding your long hair to make it appear short. Making you appear like a man.

You were nursing a whisky on the rocks, allowing the liquid to burn your throat and sooth your day. The bar wasn’t too busy, filled with men after a day of work. Two were seated at the bar, another alone at a table than solely the bartender handing out drinks.

You smelt them before they entered. One smelt like copper, the other smoke. As they entered and made their way to the bar, you examined their appearance. Both dressed in jeans and dark jackets, the copper one appeared shorter but with broader shoulders. His hair was buzzed to his head with stubble lining his jaw. He moved with confidence, acting as he owned the establishment and everyone should part for him to make way.

The smoky one was taller, shoulders not as wide but perhaps weighing more due to his height. His hair was longer, curling behind his ears towards his neck with tufts on either side. His jaw was also lined in stubble, but rather than walking like he owned the place, he walked with ease, as if he knew people were staring but could care less about it.

Your eyes followed them as they ordered, noting how the other patrons seemed to watch them too, as if all of you were aware that they could be dangerous. You returned your attention back to your drink when you got a whiff of something you haven’t before. Despite their initial scents, they both smelt off - different than all the other humans you’ve been around your life. They smelt… almost wild.

You were taken from your thoughts when the seat across from you suddenly became occupied. You looked up and saw the two men seated across from you, both with a drink in hand. The shorter one spread his body on the chair, his left arm around the taller ones.

“What’s a woman like you doing in here?” The shorter one asked, nodding his head towards you.

“Women?” You questioned, raising an eyebrow.

So far, no one has been able to distinguish your true gender. How could these new patrons know?

“Can smell the difference Bub.” The taller one said as if it was obvious.

While his companion was spread out, the larger man surprisingly took up a smaller space. His forearms rested on the table, fingers clasped in front.

“Smell?” You repeated, feigning ignorance.

“Come on Frail. We can smell you’re a woman and smell you’re a mutant like us, quit playing stupid.” The shorter one growled, a look of anger on his face. “Never met a woman mutant like us though.” He added a malicious smirk on his lips. He turned to look at the other one, as if wanting him to comment as well but to no avail.

You’ve never met another mutant before. Period.

“Well, pleased to have checked that box off your list.” You smile, quickly finishing your drink before slamming it on the table, rising to flee. “Have a good night gentlemen.”

One of them smelling like blood and acting as he did, you knew they were trouble - and you’ve avoided trouble for so long the past years you weren’t about to start getting into it. You went to leave but the taller man grabbed your arm suddenly, claw like knives slowly breaking the skin of his knuckles and leaving them, puncturing your skin.

“We weren’t finished talking.” He said, finally showing some emotion as a smile graced his face.

You quickly yanked your arm back, watching as your skin healed itself, blood now stained on the sleeve of your jacket.

“Have a seat frail,” The shorter one added, smirk still on his face. “We want to get to know you.”

You sat back down. You wish you didn’t finish your whiskey as you tired to make your escape, no longer having something to fiddle in your hands.

You look up at the men and see them both staring back at you, as if taking you in. You know what they see. A woman with H/C hair hidden underneath a hat with just enough to be seen on your forehead. Eyebrows to match that have strands out of place and eyelashes that prissy girls would kill for circling your E/C eyes.

You do the same, truly taking in the men if they’re going to be talking with you. Assessing you. Determining if you’re a threat or not.

You observe the shorter one first, seeing him as the larger threat of the two. His eyebrows are bushy despite his short hair and has wrinkles on his forehead. He continued to wear a malicious smile and has subtle dimples on either side but they make him appear menacing rather than childlike. His eyes are green and hold a dark tint, as if he’s thinking about fucking you or killing you. Maybe both.

You move to look at the taller one and notice that his expression is almost unreadable, except his mouth is curled up slightly in a snarl. His eyes are a deep brown, holding only mistrust and curiosity, as if solely reading everything about you. His bottom his lip is full, the top one smaller but shaped perfectly despite the snarl.

“What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” The shorter one repeats, raising an eyebrow.

“Drinking. What else do you do in a tavern?” You bite back, shooting him a dark look.

He looks around as if debating his answer before saying, “Some drink.” He shrugs. “Others bring a girl in and fuck her in the bathroom.”

You grimace at the thought of doing that act with him. You’d pick the taller one if it was between life and death if you had to choose. At least the taller one looks like he’d make it quick.

“I’m sure you have to drag them back there as no women would glance your way.”

You know you shouldn’t egg him on but you can’t help it. You have just as sharp of a bite to back up your bark and you’re not afraid to use it. Even if it’s against two other feral mutants.

“Hmph.” The man says.

You watch as he reaches his right hand out, going for a handshake. His hand resembles a paw, his nails replaced with claws and sharp as knives. Your eyes travel to his face and now notice how his canines are sharper than an average humans. Perhaps attributed to his mutation.

“Victor Creed. This runt is my brother James Howlett.” He finally introduced.

Two can play at this game.

You elongate your own nails, showing off your claws. You then smile, teeth sharpening to show off points on all of them, not just your canines. You reach over and clasp his hand in your own.

“Y/N L/N.” You tell them, causing him to smile wider.

You let go of his his hand and look at the other one. “I’m not shaking your hand since you already sliced me, asshole.”

He merely shrugs. “Not offended Bub.”

This time you notice how deep and gruff his voice it. It sends goosebumps throughout you and you hope neither can notice it.

“What do you two want?” You ask, switching your gaze between them.

“Like I said, never met a female frail before. And based on your reaction, guessing you've never met another mutant ever.” Victor says.

It’s your turn to shrug. “I like being alone and keeping to myself.” Simple and to the point.

“Why’s that? Afraid you’re gonna kill someone with those claws? Too weak to fight off the instinct to sink your teeth into their neck?” Victor leans forward, looking intently at you for your answer.

He’s right. Of course he is, having hit the nail on the coffin. You’re a loner by mutation and learned that being around others only causes harm by your hand. It’s better to be alone and comfortable, rather then surrounded by prey.

“So what if I am? Can still take your ass down.” You say nonchalantly, trying not to appear bothered by how easily he read you.

He laughs, it sounding hoarse and dry. “I’d like to see you try.”

“Somehow I think you’d enjoy that. Don’t wanna end up in the bathroom with you.” You retort back.

You notice then how the taller one barely talks. He seems to have an air of indifference around him. Like he’s just here because Victor is and has no interest in the conversion. Or you.

“Tell me, how old are you? Gotta be young if you’ve never met another mutant before.”

You watch as he takes a sip of his whiskey, again upset at yourself for downing yours. You think about stealing James due to his lack of participation but think better of it, not wanting him to slice you again.

“I was born in 1895.” You reveal, holding your gaze with Victors.

“Awe Jimmy.” He coos, bumping his elbow into his brothers arm. “She’s just a kitten compared to us.”

You growl at that, not liking the mocking tone. This man was starting to get on your nerves. His gaze keeps drifting down to your chest, as if he has x-ray vision to see your breasts. The other isn’t giving anything and you wish he would, seeming to be the more sane one of the two. If you take out the part where he cut you.

“What? You guys my long lost grandfathers or something trying to bring me home?” You question, arching an eyebrow.

They looked to be your age but based on what Victor has said and you’ve seen, their mutations really are similar to yours. You wouldn’t be surprised if they were older than you. You want to know more about them - you have to. The first people like you since you’ve discovered you're a mutant. Maybe you won't feel so lonely anymore due to your difference form others

“1831 and 1835.” James finally speaks, lowering his whiskey from his mouth.

“Doesn’t answer if you are my grandfathers.” You point out.

“Not your grandfather frail. Quite trying to be cute.” Victor cuts in. “Now, based on your claws and teeth, you’re definitely like us, not just by scent. So what? You got some wolf? Some crocodile? You hiding scales underneath those clothes?”

You laugh, your voice light in the air before you remember where you are and what you’re pretending to be.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” You snap back, baring all your canines at him.

“She’s a Jackal Vic.” James says. “Hates being around others. Easily blends into her environment. Able to will her nails to claws and all teeth shape as canines. Makes sense”.

“One point to brains.” You point to James, winking at him. “Zero points to brawn.” You point to Victor.

Said man goes to speak but you don’t let him, continuing. “You’ve got your own set of claws and canines. You’ve been trying to manipulate me and the situation this entire time, proving your cunningness. And you seem to try to include James here, I’m assuming your younger brother, into the conversion because you value family. Making you similar to a Sabertooth.” Something you thought you might’ve been before discovering your similarities with a Jackal.

Victor raises his eyebrows in surprise, not thinking you’d be able to guess their own mutation like James had yours.

“Meanwhile,” you turn to James, “You seem to hate being around other people as much as me. Your quiet but observe everything around you, making sure you have an escape. You were able to debunk what my mutation was, suggesting you’re smart. If I didn’t see your claws earlier, I would’ve guessed you to be a Jackel like me.” You finish.

You watch as James leans forward, both arms resting on the table as his face gets closer to you. You stare into the deep brown and feel yourself getting lost for just a moment before being pulled back.

“So what does that make me?” He questions, curious of your conclusion.

“A wolverine.” You state.

With that reveal, you make your escape. You quickly exit the table, knowing this time to not walk by it as you exit the tavern. You push open the door with one hand and start to pick up your pace. There are people lingering outside and you don’t want to draw attention.

You reach the edge of the forest, taking the cap from your head and letting your H/C locks free. You run a hand through them, trying to catch your thoughts and slow your heart rate at the run-in you just had.

You two sets of footsteps rush up behind you and take a breath, smelling Victor and James. A hand reaches out and lands on your shoulder but you immediately grab it, turning to your right to face your attacker.

A crack is heard throughout the first floor as you break Victor’s arm and don’t hesitate. Your teeth elongate to canines, your face moving to his neck and grabbing it. You bite down, blood immediately rushing into your mouth as you grab a chunk out of him.

You let go and push him away, watching as he staggers back and James stands at his side, hands in his pocket. You spit the flesh out of your mouth and grin at both men.

“If you guys have heard anything about the Jackal, you’ll know to leave me the fuck alone.”

You leave it at that, turning on your heel and walking off into the forest, leaving an angered Victor and impressed James behind you.

\\\///\\\///\\\///\\\///\\\///\\\///\\\///\\\///\\\///\\\///\\\///

Stay tuned for Part 2!

[nalyra-dreaming]

Hi ! How are you doing? :)

I wasn’t on fandom during S01 and S02, specially not during production stage. I’ve awaited this show ever since Anne Rice got her rights back, but I was more patient back then and did not want to spoil myself. For S03, though I am so crazy about it, I want to get every single crumb they through at us.

So my question is, since they are going to start filming next week, what can we expect? What kind of crumbs can we get ? What happens in fandom during this time? Are we expected to get something next week already? Or just after SDCC? (I mean based on your experience from previous seasons)

I'm good, thank you! Hope you're as well!!

Okay, so. No, I would not expect anything next week.

IF we're lucky, they might announce who is playing Marius, Gabrielle and Akasha at some point. (Or other roles). I say "might", because afaik they never officially announced Joseph Potter either, who is Nicolas. But they have announced other actors for Talamasca recently, so maybe they changed their habit there a bit.

Rolin very heavily hinted at SDCC dropping a bombshell, and I personally think that it might be

a) them announcing that Jacob wrote music for the show, so Raleigh Ritchie for Lestat

b) who is playing Gabrielle, maybe she will even be at the panel

There will be quite a few interviews at/around SDCC, and we will have "food" for a while :)

If the last season serves - I don't think you can compare s1 here - then they will give us little snippets, single scenes (like season two's "murder mansion scene) at some point, and then start to drop teasers which get longer and longer, and which Autumn will analyze (I am really looking forward to her tearing them apart to look at what's there *g*).

Last season the "teasers" phase started just when they were finished filming iirc, and then lasted for 8? 9? months, until the season dropped.

In the last weeks leading up to release there will be a LOT of interviews, and depending on when it drops, they will be at conventions I think, or FYCs or similar. Events. So, lots of interviews, little videos, photos shared with the magazines and maybe some leaks.

I do NOT expect many fans to be able to go and see them filming like last time. The studios in Toronto are not as accessible, and I think we can be lucky if some will see location shoots happening, but I would not bring my hopes up here.

UNLIKE previous seasons though, we have to consider the "rockstar angle" this time, which AMC would be plain stupid not to use, especially if the songs on Rolin's phone are indeed as good as he says.

And I think there is a huge chance that they will go full meta with rockstar Lestat, meaning release the album in "our world", do the concerts on a meta level that almost exists in reality.

We might not get all the songs as singles - but I am betting real money that we will get some.

And, given how deeply Rolin is also connected to music, he will use those in conjunction with the teasers, add to them, enhance them, etc.

And I bet it will be glorious.

As for the fandom....

This is the quiet before the storm.

The fandom will explode with whatever we get next that is from s3 I bet. Because TVL has NEVER BEEN ADAPTED BEFORE and I just... it's hard to wrap my head around that little fact.

There's also those who will not be too happy with the shift to Lestat, but that's something that will pass, because that's been said, and this is the VC... and they simply didn't want to hear it.

But all in all... I expect this fandom to be in fits as soon as the first scene/song/whatever drops. And that will then last till the season drops and beyond that :)

And maybe, just maybe AMC will manage to give us s4 a bit faster :)

[acartonofnothing]

In defense of Lenore Dove

I think Lenore Dove's writing is very similar to Gale.

In the sense that her relationship to the narrative voice is always told to us not shown. Katniss tells us all the fun times she had with Gale in the forest and we only get a very small snippet at the start of the hunger games exploring their relationship, and absolutely nothing indicates Katniss has romantic feeling for Gale or vice versa.

Meanwhile we get a lot of Peeta. It is abundantly clear he like her, and it's entertaining and sweet seeing Katniss slowly explore her feelings for him.

With Gale we only explore Katniss and him together after she has come back from the games. Obviously changing everything.

Lenore Dove is Gale with a twist. We only get like two scenes where we're shown her relationship with Haymitch, however unlike Gale his romantic feelings for her are interwoven into the narrative, kind of like katniss knowledge in the forest, it is just something we are intrinsically aware is part of Haymitch. Most notably with her namesake ballad, circling around in his head. Lenore Dove is connected with Haymitch but it is switched from her love to her haunting him.

I think this representation of Haymitchs grief is very good as the poem helps illustrate how the undying love he had for lenore is now reflected in his head through horrifying grief.

However this strategy used by Collins results in Haymitchs care for Lenore Dove not fully being illustrated until the very end. Which is why I can see some ppl not fully buying haymitchs love for her or thinking it wasn't portrayed well. However the story is supposed to be a camp tragedy and I do believe that although with the help of Edgar Allen Po Suzzane achieved this.

I need to do more research in the dead wife trope, but I dont think Lenore Dove falls into this, I think the way the tragedy of her death effects haymitch and whole heartedly stays with him, isn't supposed to be romantic. They were supposed to have a much deeper, well-rounded love, but it was cut off too soon. Haymitch is frozen in time canonically like Miss Everdeen. This doesn't represent Lenore Dove, rather how this wasn't supposed to be the end of their story. It's not good that both the love intrest and the lover are trapped in time holding on to a long gone love, neither of them moving on. That's imo a good repsentation of trauma and it poisons.

The dead wife is usually a motivator, but It's an alive Lenore Dove that motivates Haymitch, it's her death that gets rid of his "fire" so to speak. To grow Haymitch has to face his grief and look to memories of his loved ones whilst they were alive.

And then there are ppl who just don't like Lenore Dove cause she gets in the way of Hayeffie. Which soley in my opinion isn't a good ship anyway.

There are many things wrong with sotr that I think outway this large critic I've seen alot of ppl have, what can I say I like camp tragedy which again I genuienly believe Suzanne was going for.

[atopvisenyashill]

“the fact that sansa is potentially making magical connections to other animals speaks to her possibly being more powerful than robb or rickon and maybe even jon snow”. i've always thought sansa had some magical coded imagery in her chapters related to animals, but hmm… would you mind in elaborate/expand on this a little bit more??👁️👁️

i’ve talked about it a bit here, but let me expand on the specific scenes. first of course there's this dream she has about lady shortly after lady's death:

Sansa sat up. “Lady,” she whispered. For a moment it was as if the direwolf was there in the room, looking at her with those golden eyes, sad and knowing. She had been dreaming, she realized. Lady was with her, and they were running together, and … and … trying to remember was like trying to catch the rain with her fingers. The dream faded, and Lady was dead again.

Given our information about skinchangers, where they can live on in their animals, there's been the theorizing that the reverse can be true. And this dream, so vivid, really parallels the other Wolf-Human Mind Meld Moments of her brothers- Bran waking from his coma saying Summer's name, and both Jon and Robb saying the names of their wolves with their dying breaths. And both Bran and Jon (...and I think Arya don't quote me there though) mention initially having trouble remembering their wolf dreams, with Jon having issues all the way up to the end of ASOS. Here, like Bran, and similar to the older boys, Sansa wakes with her wolf's name on her lips and a vivid dream of running with her wolf. Feels like a Wolf Dream to me!

Then there's this snippet from Summer which is interesting, and curious:

He had a pack as well, once. Five they had been, and a sixth who stood aside. Somewhere down inside him were the sounds the men had given them to tell one from the other, but it was not by their sounds he knew them. He remembered their scents, his brothers and his sisters. They all had smelled alike, had smelled of pack, but each was different too. His angry brother with the hot green eyes was near, the prince felt, though he had not seen him for many hunts. Yet with every sun that set he grew more distant, and he had been the last. The others were far scattered, like leaves blown by the wild wind. Sometimes he could sense them, though, as if they were still with him, only hidden from his sight by a boulder or a stand of trees. He could not smell them, nor hear their howls by night, yet he felt their presence at his back... all but the sister they had lost. His tail drooped when he remembered her. Four now, not five. Four and one more, the white who has no voice. These woods belonged to them, the snowy slopes and stony hills, the great green pines and the golden leaf oaks, the rushing streams and blue lakes fringed with fingers of white frost. But his sister had left the wilds, to walk in the halls of man-rock where other hunters ruled, and once within those halls it was hard to find the path back out. The wolf prince remembered.

So Summer can tell them apart, and notes that the back is five + Ghost. He mentions sensing Shaggydog nearby as well as "the sister they had lost" and how they are "four and one more." Seems straigthforward....but that last description is odd. Because the thing is that Nymeria hasn't left the wilds. She is in the Riverlands running amock. And for that matter, this is Bran's first chapter in ASOS which means Arya is also still in the wilds....which just leaves "his sister" in the "halls of man-rock where other hunters ruled." Almost like he's picking up on Lady-in-Sansa's-Skin, conflating the two as Lady is sort of nestled right in comfortably within Sansa's psyche.

Now you get into Sansa's relationships with other animals. Firstly you have the old blind dog:

It was eight long days until Lysa Arryn arrived. On five of them it rained, while Sansa sat bored and restless by the fire, beside the old blind dog. He was too sick and toothless to walk guard with Bryen anymore, and mostly all he did was sleep, but when she patted him he whined and licked her hand, and after that they were fast friends. 

She stayed outside for a long time. When at last she sought her own bed, wet and chilled, only the dim glow of a peat fire lit the darkened hall. There was no sound from above. The young singer sat in a corner, playing a slow song to himself. One of her aunt's maids was kissing a knight in Lord Petyr's chair, their hands busy beneath each other's clothing. Several men had drunk themselves to sleep, and one was in the privy, being noisily sick. Sansa found Bryen's old blind dog in her little alcove beneath the steps, and lay down next to him. He woke and licked her face. "You sad old hound," she said, ruffling his fur.

That night Sansa scarcely slept at all, but tossed and turned just as she had aboard the Merling King. She dreamt of Joffrey dying, but as he clawed at his throat and the blood ran down across his fingers she saw with horror that it was her brother Robb. And she dreamed of her wedding night too, of Tyrion's eyes devouring her as she undressed. Only then he was bigger than Tyrion had any right to be, and when he climbed into the bed his face was scarred only on one side. "I'll have a song from you," he rasped, and Sansa woke and found the old blind dog beside her once again. "I wish that you were Lady," she said.

I think what's really interesting here, besides the fact that the two connect to each other quickly, is that when Sansa is having a weird nightmare - and it's honestly hard to tell if it's a Bran style nightmare or a regular one, it's very similar to the nightmares Ned has about Lyanna where they aren't prophetic but it sure makes me suspicious - the old dog comes to sleep besides her, to comfort her. Maybe that's just regular dog-human bonding or maybe her magic was reaching out for him in her distress and he came to her.

Then you have Sansa and birds. Obviously there's so much there, what with her nickname as the "little bird" and "little dove" as well as just so many bird mentions wrt the Eyrie; Sweet Robin being her close cousin, an Eyrie being the name of a nest for a bird of prey, Littlefinger being called the Mockingbird, Harry the Heir known as the Little Falcon, Sansa is mentioned as having gone hawking, probably even more that I'm missing. And that's not even the only Sansa + flying thing - first of all, I do think it's notable that Sweetrobin's catchphrase here is "make them fly" secondly there's her love of the Prince of Dragonflies, and thirdly there is the bat thing-

The northern girl. Winterfell's daughter. We heard she killed the king with a spell, and afterward changed into a wolf with big leather wings like a bat, and flew out a tower window. 

Note that Sansa has Whent ancestry through her mother, is noted to look very "Whent"-ish, the Whents have the black bat of Harrenhal on their sigil, and the current lord of Harrenhal is Littlefinger. She's very much associated with flying, almost as much as Bran is, which is an interesting choice to me. And then we get this little bit here, after they arrest Marillion for killing Lysa-

That night the dead man sang “The Day They Hanged Black Robin,” “The Mother’s Tears,” and “The Rains of Castamere.” Then he stopped for a while, but just as Sansa began to drift off he started to play again. He sang “Six Sorrows,” “Fallen Leaves,” and “Alysanne.” Such sad songs, she thought. When she closed her eyes she could see him in his sky cell, huddled in a corner away from the cold black sky, crouched beneath a fur with his woodharp cradled against his chest.

She 1) is noted to be drifting into sleep, 2) closes her eyes and 3) sees him from a birds eye view. Again...feels like a skinchanger's dream to me!

Like I said all of this is very subtle, and who knows what the ultimate pay off is for it but the high amount of bird imagery makes me think maybe we will get Sansa doing some skinchanging. And you have to wonder wrt how powerful she may be, if she does start skin changing, or Dreaming, considering she's doing this sort of stuff without any animal guide or magical teacher the way the other kids are getting.

[telomeke]

4 MINUTES EPISODE 5 – FLASHBACKS, WATCHALONGS AND AN OMINOUS CULTURAL TOUCHPOINT

They're doing a great job with this show and I'm now a newly-minted fan of Director Ning Bhanbhassa Dhubthien, whose confident hand has been assuredly steering the proceedings in 4 Minutes. 🤩

Ep.5 has irrefutably confirmed that the 4 Minutes of the title really is a reference to the four-minute limbo after the heart stops beating (4 Minutes Sultrier Version Ep.5 timestamp 42:20).

So the layers are now being slowly peeled back and more was revealed to us, shedding flashes of light on the convoluted storyline. All is still not clear yet, but some ideas are starting to take shape.

OK, this is mostly guesswork but anyway–

It's quite firmly implanted in my mind now that we're seeing a lot of Great's four minutes of brain activity post cardiac arrest. But what's been percolating in my mind since the last episode is that that we might also be seeing Tyme's four-minute post-death flashback, especially since we also saw him getting shot in the opening sequence of Episode 1.

And so those scenes and sequences shown from Tyme's point of view may also be him re-living his own past experiences (concurrently with Great's?) even as his own heart has stopped.

This thought was triggered by Ep.4's revelation that people who find themselves in the Four-Minute Zone get to enter some sort of common waiting room, and they get to meet others in there too:

And the vibes I got watching this scene reminded me so much of Great and Tyme's conversation at their lakeside glamping in the trailer, which we got to see fully in Episode 5:

I don't think this is Great and Tyme on a romantic date in the real world. Serene, other-worldly and seemingly divorced from reality – this locale has them talking about how beautiful it all is, and Great even says "I wanna stay here forever" before admitting "But we probably can't."

It really looks like this is Great and Tyme finding each other in the four-minute post-death netherworld, with the art gallery meeting room switched up for a more romantic getaway instead (that Great got to choose). And with the clock ticking ominously down to 11:04...

There's also this little snippet from the trailer:

Tyme is locked out of a room, and he calls out for Great even as his surroundings are all sepia-toned and soft-focused.

I think this is 4 Minutes showing us that Tyme's four minutes will be up before Great's are, and Tyme will swept back to the real world – or away to another world – while Great is left behind. (Or maybe it's the other way around?)

Ominously, we are not shown Great's rapture and release from four-minute limbo – as much as I want a Happily Ever After for the two newest pretty boys who have won my heart, 4 Minutes is making no such promises. So I suppose we should prepare ourselves for the possibility that while Great (or Tyme) may well be waking up from a four-minute hiatus and returning to the world of the living at 11:04 – it's not a guarantee that the other will rejoin him there when his own four minutes tick down. 😬💔😭

‌

Anyway, I've refrained from commenting on the numeral 4 as a symbol of death, because this is more a thing in Chinese culture rather than Thai (and up until Ep.5 Thai-Chinese references were at most only faintly present in 4 Minutes).

Well that certainly changed, at 4 Minutes Sultrier Version Ep.5 timestamp 34:50:

The temple where Ep.1 accident victim Khun Manee goes to hire a hitman is unmistakably Chinese. The mafia don she engages with also speaks in Teochew Chinese (I think) at timestamp 36:25.

And so when her siam si/เซียมซี fortune stick shows up with the numeral 4, the link with death is all but confirmed (the word for death in many Chinese dialects like Hokkien, Teochew, Cantonese and Hakka sounds similar to the word for the numeral 4, although there are tonal differences). No surprises then, that the Chinese don tells Manee "Someone's probably going to die."

This had a Thai parallel in Ep.1, when the clock in Khun Manee's hospital room showed us it was thirteen minutes past 1 o'clock in the afternoon:

As portentous as this might appear to occidental minds, it's not just the Western superstition surrounding the number 13 that's threading darker undertones into the fabric of this scene.

In Thai culture (where belief in the supernatural abounds), the numeral 13 is also sometimes considered ill-omened because it looks rather like the Thai word for ghost – ผี – flipped onto its side, adding to the general sense of foreboding in Ep.1.

And for me, this was not meant to foreshadow all the deaths taking place in subsequent scenes and episodes, although it isn't inappropriate as a device.

We have been seeing ghosts in this series – Great, Lukwa, possibly Tyme, and whoever else who found themselves caught in the spectral dimension that exists between life and death in the universe of 4 Minutes.

‌And this may be just my fevered 4 Minutes obsessed brain overthinking things again, but in this light – the paired thirteen (13:13) is likely a reference to the ghostly half-lives of our protagonist couple Great and Tyme, getting to share a precious (final?) four minutes together in that twilight zone between the world of the living and the great beyond.

But it seems more than likely that they will be yanked apart when their four minutes are up. 😧 So will that separation be forever? I wait on tenterhooks to see.

P.S. Links to my own fan theory as to what it all might possibly mean:

And some more supporting information, embedded in the show:

‌

[nausikaaa]

Stats Saturday (and Six Sentence Sunday)

hello! i'm kicking things off a day early because i cannot contain my excitement, I JUST BROKE 100K WORDS!!

i know to some writers this won't seem like a lot, i've certainly read many fics over 100K, but to me this is massive. a huge milestone. i keep whispering "one hundred thousand" to myself and grinning like an idiot. and the novel is about... halfway written, so far? hahah. i'm afraid.

so yeah, i'm posting early to share the excitement! today i offer more Helenus POV, a flashback in fact! here's his first meeting with Apollo, which is... well it's not great. Helenus is fourteen, for a start, and not too long ago Apollo cursed his twin sister Cassandra for refusing his advances, so he knows he can't exactly say no without suffering a similar fate. it's not too graphic a scene, all of this book will be strictly fade-to-black, but i'll put it under a cut all the same in case it's triggering to anyone.

psst- there are also lambs under the cut, feel free to scroll past the snippet if you're just here for them!

I learned from Cassandra's mistakes. I did not flinch or object as Apollo put his hands on me. His mouth was hot, his tongue insistant, but I went boneless in his arms. I wanted my mind to wander, to go somewhere else, but I could not. I was intimately aware of every sensation, his hands trailing paths of fire down my spine, bunched in my hair, slipping beneath my tunic. How any hands did he have? I felt overwhelmed, like I was about to tip over some vast precipice, but I dared not pull away.

i really try to make every character i write understandable on some level, but also not perfect. they are all flawed and complicated, because people are like that. even the gods, as reflections of humans, have their flaws.

so, for all Helenus is really put through the wringer in this novel, he's not without sin. he knows Apollo hurt Cassandra, but he still falls in love with him anyway and she rightly feels extremely betrayed. he later fucks over Andromache almost unforgivably because Apollo tells him to.

was he groomed? yeah. but did he also benefit massively for a while at the expense of others from being a god's favourite? absolutely. and he will ultimately have to make peace with the decisions he made and the ones that were made for him.

meanwhile Apollo is incredibly shady and abusive, but also, i hope, understandable. he's a god, what do a few years difference matter to him? yes, he manipulates Helenus, but he knows that it's to eventually get him in a good position. he does a hell of a lot better than most Trojan men. nobody can deny that Apollo saves his life multiple times.

and he's not just setting Helenus up, he's setting up an entire dynasty, Helenus' descendants include Alexander the Great and Pyrrhus of Epirus, who gave us the term "pyrrhic victory" today. as the god of prophecy and drinking buddy of the Fates, it's not only his job but his cosmic purpose to make sure the pieces fall into place, and he figures soft power is better than simply ordering Helenus about.

also! two more lambs have been born! their mama is black, their dad is white, and they... are one of each! as always, you can see more of them over on my instagram.

i tag @forabeatofadrum @cutestkilla @run-for-chamo-miles @roomwithanopenfire @prettygoododds @bookish-bogwitch @youarenevertooold @that-disabled-princess @noblecorgi @orange-peony @larkral @confused-bi-queer @aristocratic-otter @artsyunderstudy @thewholelemon @alexalexinii @hushed-chorus @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @martsonmars @meanjeansjeans @leithillustration @j-trow-95 and @blackberrysummerblog

[goldeneyedgirl]

miss you and hope you are doing well!! i’m officially not above begging at this point- could i please have a crumb of whatever you’re vibing with recently??? congrats on ending the semester!!

Thank you! I just got my grades today, and the relief was tangible. I think for the brief fifteen minutes afterwards, I was considered totally boneless in relaxation.

So, what am I vibing with?

First up, I've got a full draft of the next chapter of Jar of Hearts that just needs one very harsh edit. I fucking hate fight chapters, so the process went about as well as can be expected. It needed to sit for a while and think about what it did before I opened it again.

I've made peace with the fact that the current draft of Variable Stars needs rewriting simply because you can see the 'seams' where I changed the direction of the plot. Half the battle I've been waging was fitting the old material and the new material together, and now that I've wiped the slate clean, I feel good about the direction.

I fucked up with Shadow to Light and skipped ahead to work on Jasper's chapter and that was a big, huge, gigantic mistake because going back to fix Mary-Alice's chapter feels like going backwards, and was very frustrating. But progress continues, and I have an ask waiting for a snippet which I'll be posting tomorrow.

Other stuff: Well.

Magnolia is getting a much needed refresh because I decided I was personally victimized by the lack of complete Human/Vampire Jalice fic posted. Anathema is finally getting an outline/timeline so I can keep everything flowing correctly. Feral Jasper/Mary-Alice plods on. The STL AU second part is lost (thanks Google), so I'm reclaiming my peace before I go back in and rewrite it.

For new stuff, we have an AU where the Groundskeeper survives and he and Peter manage to convince Alice she's the vampire equivalent of an unexploded bomb, and that she needs to isolate herself lest vampires wanting to exploit her powers kill everyone she knows and loves. It's a little more than a collection of vibes right now, but something that I'll play around with. It might be too similar to other AU versions of Alice to bother expanding on right now.

And I fucking finally managed to put all the pieces together for the multiverse fic. I haven't entirely let go of the first version (which involved a sole-survivor Alice being thrown backwards to the Cullens arrival in Forks in a world where she died in the asylum) because it had some chef's kiss scenes of Jasper simping hard. But the new version is so much more messed up and has a real plot and direction.

(Also tell me why it never occurred to me when I made Edward and Edythe twins that Edythe should be with Tanya? That might go down as the best personal-canon I've come up with this year.)

But anyway, as it's the best option for reading (a lot of the other stuff I've worked on is notes, dot points, short passages describing stuff that isn't fun but is necessary), here is the current state of the multi-verse fic...

The last conversation that she has with her husband, he kisses her on the forehead and promises that no matter what happens, he will find her. He smells like ash and blood, and she misses it when they both smelt like themselves. When they could just be in the moment like they used to, and not spend every day fighting for the next one. She wants one moment, one dance, one night where they get to be them and not pawns on the goddamn chessboard.

She wishes she'd told him... so many things. She wishes she'd held him back and not let him leave her side.

Instead, she promises him she'll be waiting.

And then she never sees him again.

—

For a moment there is nothing. That's how it always is. Nothing but black, and she's … nothing. A million fragments amongst time and space. And then she is again. It always takes a minute or two when she phases into her body. It’s like being pulled out of cold water, and warm air hitting her skin. It’s not unpleasant, it’s just… other.

This time there is a bolt of pain, but she deserved and expected it.

(It’s times like these that she misses him the most. When she feels brand new and vulnerable and trying to understand how this version of herself fits together.)

This Alice is one of the tiniest - an inch or two shorter than she is, very short hair, but with a grace and awareness of her body that is unfamiliar. Curious. She found this Alice’s strand so suddenly, she was expecting something closer to what she was used to. Closer to who she was a long time ago.

She doesn't move at first, she just catalogues everything as the world settles around her. Dirt and grass is cool under her bare feet, and the smell of the forest is familiar; perhaps the Maine house. Or maybe Minnesota. She hopes it's Minnesota; that was always her favourite.

The air smells summery, even though it isn't warm. Her clothing isn't the jeans and sweater that she was wearing before she was pulled through; a light dress and a heavier overshirt. None of her skin or muscles pull as she stood there, so she has no significant scar tissue anywhere. She's not excessively thirsty.

It's not a bad start. She's been in worse situations before.

As soon as she opens her eyes, she starts walking, her hand automatically going to the ring hanging off her necklace; thin, plain gold, and the only thing she's ever managed to hold onto since her gift went haywire. A talisman for better times.

//

The first time she sees this Jasper, she laughs. It's high and delighted and amused.

He's so young. Her Jasper was around thirty when Maria caught up to him - burnt out, jaded, and disgusted with life, never really having gotten over what he saw in the war.

He'd terrorized the south for decades before she caught up to him in Nevada.

She remembered that first weekend, in the dust of Vegas, in a shredded dress and old cowboy boots she wore just to make him laugh. They'd won nearly five hundred dollars, she'd stolen him a jacket and a hat, and he'd told her thirteen times that he was too old and she was too young. She'd laughed twelve times and kissed him the thirteenth time.

This Jasper, almost the same age as her, is missing half the scars, his hair is different, and he's just… younger. It's scary, honestly, seeing him like this. It would be less shocking seeing him flayed to the bone, than the man he was when he went to war and not the person he was afterwards.

Since the day she kissed him Vegas, her Jasper took care of her, protected her. He had been her best friend, her confidante. Always steady, always calm, always tempering her worst impulses, and always on her side. Her husband has always known her best, even better than she knows herself, and of all the different versions of Jasper that she's had to face down, this sharp-eyed version being held in place is the most unsettling.

So she laughs, as this-Jasper and the rest of the family stare at her like she's an alien, surrounded by smoking pyres. She's seen so many versions of her family over the years that none of them surprise her. Edythe is missing, though, and Alice dearly wishes her sister were there. She misses Edie terribly.

"Alice?" This Esme is slimmer, and put together like a WASP on a family camping trip. A few strands of hair have come loose, but she looks comical against the pyres burning sickly purple behind them.

It's honestly the best version of Esme Alice has seen in a long, long time.

"Alice," Jasper croaks, still held in place by Emmett. "Alice, I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry." As she gets closer, she sees how haunted he looks.

She knows that look.

"Not quite," she says as kindly as she can. She's done this part too many times. "You've got nothing to be sorry for." She picks her way over to them; this body is so thin, she feels unsteady. There's always a sense of being like a fawn on brand new legs when she arrives, but this is the worst she's been .

The look on their faces is one that she recognises intimately.

"How long ago did your Alice die?" she asks, stopping several feet away. The silence is loaded between them; she knows that they are looking at her, reconciling her with the woman, the sister, the wife that they've lost. And whilst she looks like a dead girl, she's not: her clothing is wrong, the way she stands, the way she speaks. It might be close to what they know, but just different enough that they can't lie to themselves.

She isn't their Alice.

"About fifteen minutes," Emmett says grimly, and Jasper lets out a noise that sounds like grief and frustration and pain.

Oh, it's fresh. She's never had to deal with a fresh death before. Mostly the other-Alices have been gone months or years - if they existed at all. The best worlds are where Alice Cullen never existed; either destroyed as a newborn or died as a human. Those are the worlds where it's easier to pretend that there's not a long trail of bodies and heartbreak and betrayal and loss behind her.

Maybe being here and now is her punishment. Or her reminder.

"I'm sorry." It feels hollow as she stands there. All her platitudes do.

"So are we." Carlisle looks older than she's ever seen. "The resemblance is…"

"Not a resemblance." She looks at her feet. She's given this speech so many times, it eats away at her every single time she repeats it. "I am Alice Cullen. Just not yours. My gift… it got away from me."

More staring. Jasper is dead-eyed and limp in Emmett's grasp, his gaze fixed on her. It's not the first time that she's wished beyond measure that she looked like herself - her small collection of scars, her hair that is more uneven and lopsided than this Alice's, the ten optimistic pounds extra that would make her feel less like a fawn stumbling around off-kilter. All those little things that made her herself and not some other flavour of herself.

—

She can just hear the family downstairs; the house's sound proofing is very good. She can't make out their plans to come up and rescue their Jasper if she turns out to be a homicidal maniac. Not that he'd need it; no matter which version of himself she meets, Jasper is always the better fighter.

His study is almost familiar. A bunch of elements that she recognizes, all jumbled up wrong - the wrong editions of books, ornaments that were lost or broken suddenly back in place, the rug the wrong shade of green… The ghost of a smile graces her face when she sees the wedding photograph tucked away on the shelf and instinctively reaches for it.

"Mine is different," she says absently, looking at the faces in the picture - both are staring adoringly at each other, a hazy candid with a bouquet of roses falling out of focus in the corner. Decades ahead of its time, as far as wedding photography went. "An old polaroid taken in the doorway… It was on my husband's desk."

Jasper watches her. "You need to explain what's going on," he manages, his voice low and unwelcoming. "Are you the reason Alice is dead?"

"No. No. I've been stuck in this loop for a long time; there are rules. I cannot exist in a world where another version of me is alive. Your Alice died, and my gift found the space she had left behind. I don't usually arrive so soon afterwards."

"Why are you here?" He feels raw, like there's a gaping wound in his chest just open to the air.

The words spill out in a jumble as she tries to explain. She misses the twins, especially Edie. She misses the house next to the river, and the little wing that she and Jasper had taken over as their own. And she misses her husband so badly, it feels like she's falling to pieces.

The truth is that when Aro and Eleazer came after them all, they scattered. That's just how it happened; they had to go to ground, and it wasn't smart to stay together.

So many people died on both sides. Edie had been the first to die, and Tanya was on borrowed time - she'd never be the same again. She hadn't heard from or laid eyes on Esme in years before that last battle. Carlisle's survival was nothing more than rumors that he was one of Aro's 'guests'. Edward and Bella had been destroyed - that vision was tattooed across her memory, worse than reality because there was nothing she could do to stop it.

Rose and Emmett had fled to Vietnam and gone silent. She had always hoped that they'd made themselves a new, safe life and were happy.

It had been her and Jasper at the end, and then he'd been destroyed. And all the lessons, all the practice getting her gift to be stronger… she'd ripped herself right out of time in her horror and grief that she was all alone.

In the end, they'd lost everything they'd been fighting for.

—

This Alice isn’t his wife. He needs to remind himself of that but he also doesn't; it's like a beacon over her head. It's in the fabric of everything she does. The way she moves, the way she looks at them, even the way she dresses.

He knows the whole family is watching them, judging them. He wants to be repulsed by this woman, by the ease of her presence. He wants to be sick and violent in his grief.

But Jasper would never consider himself a good man. He can see the ghost of his Alice in this stranger. They might have been put together wrong, but the clothing is still his wife's. Her scent, of rainwater and peaches, is the most familiar in the world. More than once, he's had to resist reaching for her, holding her.

Not just for himself, but for her. She doesn't speak about her husband much, but when she does… the words spill out so fast. And it's in every single word how much she loved her husband, absolutely adored him. She is fond when she talks about his flaws, his quirks. Not once does she criticize him, let anything less than praise cross her lips. He can hear the grief and self-loathing every time she mentions his death.

There is… it's not jealousy. There's a twinge of possessiveness. Maybe.

(It's more like he's drowning and she's the life-raft. If she hadn't walked onto that battlefield, he would have begged Emmett to take his head, to throw his pieces onto Alice's pyre and pretend that they both died in the battle.)

[stolasbuckzo]

Proof that Huskerdust have feelings for each other

• In 1x04 Throughout the entirety of the song Loser, Baby Husk becomes consensual , gentle, and chivalrous with Angel (who pretty much joined in after being accepted for who he is with a “Baby, that’s fine by me”

<> Husk protectively told Angel to “stay down” (very boyfriend-coded if you ask me 😏) and then seconds later became awestruck by the fact that he could defend himself (whilst showing his true colours)

<> However at the end of the episode the tension of sexual attraction between them is definitely there

• In 1x05 it’s a little bit harder to tell since the episode “Dad Beat Dad” was mainly focused on Lucifer’s father/daughter and Charlie’s relationship.

But we do see two snippets of Angel and Husk on the sidelines comically eating popcorn as Alastor defended the hotel later on (after Lucifer caused it) and another scene where Lucifer and Charlie are arguing.

<> Husk makes a pre-drink for Angel without being asked whilst he talks to Mimzy (which I thought was actually really cute ☺️)

• In 1x06 When at the club Consent first off Angel listened to Husk’s advice after Cherri suggested they get “fucked up” by doing drugs

<> After Niffty gets drunk Huskerdust literally become her parents 😂 (also Husk praised Angel for standing up to Valentino before placing his paw on back)

• In 1x07 Again, similar to “Dad Beat Dad” there’s a brief Huskerdust moment where two things happen; 1. Angel wraps his arm around Husk. 2. Husk frowns shortly at Vaggie before it changed to a smile and his eyes dilated (slightly) after Angel embraced him

• In 1x08 Before the war with the angels (Exorcists) Angel decided to spend his last night at the hotel with Husk who had flirtatiously acknowledged that he had really changed

Bonus:

You can also hear the instrumentals of Loser, Baby in the background!!! (Like… come on you cannot tell me THIS isn’t a romantic atmosphere. The Husk’s tone of “you really have changed” that’s held with so much sexual tension! Their song — literally — playing in the background?! Angel’s Anthony’s soft and hesitant “Hey…”)

<> During the amidst of the war Husk makes a social faux pas about “too many fucking angels coming” only be teased by Angel in response (which come on, let’s face it, they definitely were flirting 🤭)

<> The minute Angel got knocked down by one of the exorcist (after selflessly saving Frank one of the Egg Boiz) Husk looked feral at the person who had harmed the latter ~ like were talking “you just hit my boyfriend , how dare you.” level of protectiveness

References:

There are hundreds of meanings of the word “Likes” in this list down below (just to show evidence that it can mean “find attractive” etc as well)

Season 2: (2025)

[papayapastry81]

I ask politely for you to unleash the 3 alternatives to chapter 11 of your fic(only if you're comfortable!!). On the other hand I've been following you fic religiously it's good I've cried like 10 different times. I can't wait for the rest of the fic.✨✨

i genuinely did not think anyone would be interested in the drafts but i’ve gotten so many requests about this that im actually considering putting out excerpts of the alt drafts 👀

not the full versions, unfortunately-- some scenes were recycled into chapter 12 or might appear in future chapters. but the ones that got cut entirely? i could definitely share those here if you guys are interested.

and thank you so much for reading !! i hope the upcoming chapters keep hitting the spot and are worth it<333

but here are two (out of the three, one got published ^^) alternate versions of chapter 11, loosely summarised (they got a bit wordy, apologiess 😅). let me know which one you'd want to see a snippet of first and i’ll dig into what i can post !

1. charles wakes up and realises oscar hasn’t left. he just lies there for a moment before breaking down-- silent at first, then uncontrollable. oscar wakes up to him crying and doesn’t quite know what to do. it’s a quiet, painful kind of tenderness. there’s a slightly different version of the flinch scene (the one that ended up in chapter 11), plus a longer continuation of the moment in chapter 12 where charles realises oscar’s been blaming himself this whole time.

2. we follow max’s day for a change. he goes through his routine-- makes breakfast, tries to keep things steady. it’s instinct, habit, almost a penance. for the first time, he doesn’t know how to fix things, so he does what he knows best, be present. a solid, steady, grounding presence. he walks into the room with food and finds oscar, alone, curled in on himself, barely holding it together, and something in max just cracks. this version got abandoned about 3/4 of the way through, so i might need to work on it a bit before sharing-- but it’s quiet, heavy, and very max. i will need to edit the snippets a bit because at the moment, they are roughly written scenes but yeah ! if anyone is interested, do let me know which one of the you'd like ! i will try my best to put them out ! and to all the anons who sent in similar asks, i hope this answers it ! i appreciate each and one of you<33

[but-the-library-of-alexandria]

In honour of #CRAspecFestWk2 I feel that this is the perfect time to Soft Launch the fact that I have been working on an Aeor Date Shadowgast fic for a little while... I wanted to have a lot more of it finished before I revealed it but fuck it lol, maybe this will motivate me to write!

I'm being a little Fancy with format lol, I've tentatively decided to present it as a kind of Found Manuscript, the manuscript in question being the research diary Essek kept during the trip, which starts out being strictly business with a few slips and deliberate ommissions, and slowly gets more and more personal until he's barely writing about the research at all and it's just fully a personal journal lol. It's a Getting Together fic so expect a lot of Longing as well as a bit of early relationship honeymoon phase

Anyway, in the interest of getting some Aspec Vibes out there this week, see below the cut to read some curated snippets from three scenes which may or may not be used in the final version, which I feel touch upon the Demisexual Experience to some extent:

Snippet 1: a pre-gettting-together musing on different 'speeds' of attraction:

I am not stupid. I do know that the feeling is mutual. Nor do I think he is stupid, and I am sure he knows as well. Similar as we are, I find him easy to read, although, different as we are, I suspect we came at it very differently. Like fire and ice, Cheszara said, and it does ring true: I am glacially slow to move, while Caleb’s feelings catch quickly and burn bright. I dare not wonder how much earlier he arrived upon it than I did. I’m afraid that, if I asked, he’d say, immediately. He has the capacity for it, in a way that I don’t. In the past year or so alone - according to Jester and Beau and my own eyes - that spark has kindled for half a dozen people (if you count the three of them who have taken turns in the same body). Of course, when I think of that, a quiet voice in the back of my head that still has a shred of humility (that voice is never very loud in wizards) asks how I can possibly hope, being one of so many options, to be the one he chooses. Perhaps in my slowness to bloom, the moment has passed, and someone else’s claim has taken precedence. The much louder voice of my ego (again, a wizards’ trait) takes an inventory and reassures me that I am probably the best option, or close to it. 

That likely speaks more of his questionable taste than it does of my virtue. 

But no, I am certainly not afraid that he does not feel the same, or that I would be a bad choice for him, but despite what some may think, that does not leave me with nothing to fear. He may feel more for someone else. He may feel against his will, and choose to reject those feelings. He may be advised away by others. He may find that the life he wants to live does not have room for everything he wants, and compromises must be made. His logical mind may make a different choice from what I will generously call his heart (generously to myself, anyway). The simple phenomenon of two people feeling similarly towards each other does not make everything else fall away; life is many-faceted, timing is important, and circumstances must align - choices, as I have learnt the hard way, must be made consciously and hollistically, with consideration for the ripple effect they will have. To want something does not always lead to choosing it. 

I would choose it, of course. But I am only half the authority. 

Snippet 2: a flashback featuring Marion, my favourite aspec headcanon, which is maybe only tangientally aspec and more about just Being Hot But Not Wanting A Lot Of Sex in general, but I wanted to include it bc I love it lol:

“It's ‘break',” Marion said. 

“What?”

“The lyric,” she said, referring to the song I'd just finished. She was sitting next to me on the piano stool. “I break every lovely thing I touch. You said burn, instead of break. Why?”

“I misspoke,” I told her honestly. 

“Why?” she did not let me escape her question so easily. 

I shrugged evasively. “Common is not my first language.”

She was not fooled. “You don't have to tell me why,” she said. “Just ponder it yourself.”

“I don't need to ponder,” I allowed her a glimpse of the truth: “I know why.”

“Beauty,” she said, in a change of subject that seemed incongruous at the time, “is not always the blessing some people think it is, is it?”

“I don't know - you've built quite an empire with yours.”

She gave a perfectly charming laugh. “Oh, I like that - an empire of beauty! What an amusing turn of phrase. Well, perhaps - but don't pretend you have not learned to turn your own curse to your advantage. You would not look like you do if you had not.”

With a smile I reminded her that the face she was looking at was not my real face. She knew what my real face looked like, of course, but we were in public, so at this moment it was hidden behind an illusion.

“Exactly,” she said. “If you resented your pretty face so much, you'd take this opportunity to wear an ordinary one, to blend into a crowd - but you have chosen another just as beautiful as the original. If you did not wish to be beautiful, you need not wear all that finery, the jewellery, the shimmer, any of it. You could try to hide, but you don't.”

I did not know what to say. She narrowed her eyes perceptively.

“It is strange, isn't it? How frightening it is to walk through the world, minding your own business and yet affecting people regardless - breaking hearts and making waves you never intended to, simply because of how people react to something you carry with you always, something out of your control -” she leaned in and added in a conspiratorial stage whisper: “but isn't it even more awful to hide your face under a plain veil, and walk down the street without seeing a single child gaze up at you in awe as you go by?” 

She had perfectly captured a feeling I had never even thought to put into words, the strange paradox of going through life as an object of desire to people you had no desire to captivate: the coexisting dread of catching someone looking at you with hunger, wondering if they’re calculating in their head how much resistance they'd be willing to push through, how much they'd be willing to risk to get their hands on you - alongside a habitual dependence upon being able to slide through any barrier with a well-timed smile and a well-chosen perfume. The endless longing for the world to ignore your exterior and see a value in you that is more than skin deep, and yet the impossibility of being able to untangle your own self-worth from the crutch of your looks. The strange addiction of beauty, of resenting it and all the unwanted side-effects it brings to you and the people around you, and yet being too intoxicated by the sight of your own face in the mirror to ever give it up. I held Marion's gaze, and in each other we saw someone who knew that depressingly shallow truth: beauty is power, and like any power, it is as dangerous as it is irresistible, and it most commonly falls to those who can do the least good with it. 

I told her why I'd said burn instead of break, and she grinned as though I'd given her the most delightful gift. I know the feeling: it is far more enjoyable to watch the chequered romances of others than it is to be in the ring yourself.

Snippet 3: an open conversation about demisexuality, the most on-the-nose acknowledgement of it but also probably the least likely to make it into the final cut bc I think it's a little TOO on the nose as it currently is:

“Life certainly can be stranger than fiction,” I said with a smile. “I must admit that if someone had come back in time and told me on the day we first met that this is where we would be a year later, I might have struggled to believe them.”

“I certainly would not have,” Caleb agreed. “Not that I would have been surprised at my own feelings, of course, but surprised at my luck. I daresay you’d have been equally surprised on both counts. I don’t believe your eye was on me as mine was on you, on day one.”

“Don’t take it personally,” I said, not feeling inclined to lie, “but I’m afraid that’s not really how my brain works. I have never seen a stranger and felt that kind of attraction to them.”

“Really?” His tone was curious, but not particularly surprised or disbelieving. 

“No. It’s not that I don’t care for appearances or…” I struggled for the word in common, “presence, at all - I can make aesthetic judgements, and once I am attracted to someone, I do find those things attractive, it’s simply that… well, for most people the attraction comes first, and then as you get to know the person you come to truly care for them - for me, the attraction tends to come last. If it comes at all, that is; it is not guaranteed, of course.” 

“Seems convenient,” he said. “You’re never going to find yourself drawn into an impulsive entanglement you regret.”

“It feels less incongruous as I get older,” I allowed, “but you can imagine the animosity in my student days, when everyone wanted my… attention, and I would not give it. And don’t think I’ve never been attracted to someone I wished I wasn’t; to know someone intimately, to be close to someone, is not necessarily the same as liking and respecting them.” 

“Very true.”  

Thanks for reading if you did! This is only my second fic in uhhh over ten years lol, and only my second long(ish) form fic - I hope to post the first chapter this week, if I'm feeling brave!

@cr-aspec-fest

[fayedartmouth]

Hi! 2 questions!

1. Do you have an update on your progress with your fix it? There are so many good ones on ao3 right now, but i check your page every day just to see if you comment on it or post a snippet! I literally can’t wait! So i would love to hear where you are in that process!

2. Something i just started thinking about. I remember in season 1. Kie talks about her kook year and she mentions how she got so depressed she was starting to consider self harm. It’s like never brought up again, but it is something we know she has struggled with in the past. Obviously we know JJ struggles with some similar things. It felt like such a waste to me that we never saw those two characters talk about it. especially considering everything jj went through in season 4 and the fact they were dating. I would loved to see them connect over that and talk through and heal together from that. Sooooo I was wondering if that’s something you plan to address in any of your future fics and if not if you would be willing to write a one shot about it? Either where they talk about it or where one of them tries to hurt themselves and they talk about it? or it could be on the boat in season 4. You know when he’s fully spiraling and nobody does ANYTHING.

Anywayyyyy, I love all your fics so much! You’ve been a huge part of this grieving process!

I wish I could write faster, like so much faster. Fix-it is currently pushing 150k. That's good! I just think it's probably only like half complete. And since I don't post unfinished fics to AO3, it just means there will be some waiting involved.

(As an aside, I'm also working far too much on the SECOND fix it fic because I keep talking to @woudsohfiv about it and she keeps asking me to and now I have 25k of THAT fic done as well. And I'd be lying if didn't say I had written a few scenes for the THIRD fic as well. I just like some scenes, lol.)

So I will have to post snippets to keep people interested -- and believing that I am, in fact, writing this monstrosity.

I'll dump one below.

As for point two! I hadn't really thought about it BUT arc 2 is going to have a lot of Kiara's struggles. She's in a very bad head space and she hits her rock bottom in arc 2. So I can probably definitely weave that into her POV. And arc 3 is reconciliatory for JJ and Kie, and they will both be confessing a LOT of secrets -- I can probably also bring that in. Given what JJ has to confess to her, her sharing that might actually really help and make sense, all things considered.

Okay, so snippet below! Let me ask this -- I'm never unsure of how much is too much -- or if spoilers are a problem. Do you prefer snippets that don't reveal too much? Or do you like snippets that provide key plot points? I'm just really bad at picking them!

The scene below is set at the end of their stint on the OBX in season -- when they set out to sail for Morocco. One huge thing I'm working with is providing more insight into the characters -- so we're getting more of JJ's trauma and a lot more concern from the Pogues. Everyone will be more likable and sympathetic than whatever it was we saw on screen.

“It’ll be the last time we see her, I guess,” JJ said.

John B looked at him, a little taken aback.  JJ’s face wasn’t colored with hurt; if anything, he seemed calmer than he had been.  As if looking in the face of the inevitable had solidified him somehow.

It was unsettling, to say the least.

But could John B say it was surprising?

Was any of this surprising?

He was pissed at JJ – he <i>was</i>.  JJ had cost them everything, and he had put them all on the line.  

But he’d said it before, back when they were just kids.  It didn’t matter whose fault it was.  This was a relationship, and JJ was his best friend.  JJ was his brother.

JJ was hurting; JJ was reeling.

He was watching JJ unravel in front of him, and anger didn’t get him anywhere.  Not when JJ’s troubles came from a place of pain, a place so deep in JJ that he hardly let it show.  A place so encompassing for JJ now that he didn’t know how to hide it.

His heart ached, then, as he watched JJ’s face.  Staring at the only place he’d ever felt happy.

The only home he’d ever had.

JJ wasn’t bidding goodbye to Poguelandia.

He was bidding goodbye to the very idea of home.

The very idea of family.

“JJ,” he said, and he wet his lips, looking for the words.  “We don’t know that.”

When JJ looked at him now, his expression was funny.  There was something there, seated deeply in his eyes.  Not quite amusement; not quite reassurance.  Almost like he wanted to believe John B – but knew he couldn’t.

It was almost pity.

“John B, I’m wanted for murder.  I burned down the town.  Breaking, entering, looting, arson–”

John B felt his chest start to tighten.  “Shoupe said we could make it go away.”

JJ smiled.  But tired.  Small.  <i>Weary</i>.  “The things I’ve done can’t just disappear,” he said, and he nodded back at the retreating view of Poguelandia.  “I’m the reason we can’t go home.  I’m the reason it’s gone.  Me.”

Back on the beach, with Shoupe on their tails, he had wanted to hear that.  He’d needed JJ to take responsibility and own up to it.  For losing their home.  For putting them all in danger.  For putting Sarah – and the baby in danger.

But that was the problem, in the end.  JJ knew his faults.  JJ knew them better than the rest of them.  He had internalized them all his life.  Luke had made sure JJ understood that much:  that he was the problem.

So much so that JJ made himself the problem.

During the last 18 months, John B often let himself forget that those memories still haunted JJ.

Standing there with him, looking back at the wreckage of the last week, he reminded himself how willfully naive he’d been.  Like 18 months could undo what JJ had spent 18 years learning.

JJ didn’t need to take the blame.

JJ needed to believe – for the first time in his life – that he could do better.  That he had a future.  Not the one Luke beat into him.  Not the one Groff had left him behind for.  But they one they were going to build – together.

Blame and fault – that was what went before.

Hope and change – that was what had to get them forward.

JJ had plenty of the former and, John B realized with a growing dread, almost none of the latter.  

JJ lips quirked up, his smile wry.  It didn’t reach his eyes as he shook his head and looked down again.  “I’m the reason we lost it,” he said quietly, and there was no condemnation they could make that matched what JJ already felt for himself.  “I’m the reason we lost everything.”

John B swallowed, and when he blinked, his eyes were burning.  “It was just a house, JJ.  It was land,” he said.

JJ looked up, eyes wide.  He made a choked off laugh, pointing to the shoreline behind them.  “It was our business, our home – <i>everything</i>.”

It had never been just a house.  It had never been just land.  John B knew that; that was why it’d been so easy to forgive JJ after he blew so much money buying it.  He knew what it meant then, to own it, to take it back for himself.

He knew what it meant now, to lose it.

Denial, though, was the only friend John B had, more long-lasting than JJ.  He drew himself up, shaking his head.  “Well, we’ll find the Blue Crown.  We’ll get another fortune.  And we’ll make another one.”

He spoke it with conviction.  Did he believe it?  Was it something he was sure of?

He had to believe it.  They’d done the impossible before – so many times.

All because John B told them they could.

JJ had never doubted him.

But now, standing there on the deck, he could see the change.  JJ doubted him now.

John B’s passion had always been enough for the both of them.

JJ had lost too much, though.  Passion, hope, belief – not even revenge.  John B had the growing fear that none of it would be enough for JJ now.  People weren’t inexhaustible.  Spirit wasn’t indefatigable.  Humanity had limited resources, and everyone ran out when pushed too long and too hard.

Even JJ.

Especially JJ.

“You make it sound easy,” JJ said finally, and his voice was small.  There was no anger; there was no vitriol.  But the sound was laden with regret.

The life not realized.

JJ had seen it for a second – a fleeting second – the possibility.

Now, he was standing face to face with a bleaker reality.  One he could no longer see his way past.

He couldn’t bullshit this.  He couldn’t pretend like it wasn’t real, not when they were running from the law, making a last-ditch effort to save everything.  “It wasn’t easy last time.”

John B knew his own hubris had started this.  It had been his insistence that set them on this path, putting all of them in danger time and time again.  JJ had wanted him to stop once.

Now, he wasn’t sure JJ could keep doing this at all.

For all their sakes, he had to.

“B, that’s the point.  I don’t know if we can do it again – if we can capture that same magic that got us here,” JJ said with a short, hot exhale.  He shook his head, gesturing helplessly to the horizon, where land was growing distant. He looked down, seeming to shrink into himself.  “I don’t know if I can do it again.”

JJ had always been able to do that, to make himself smaller somehow.  The way he held himself, the way he tried to make himself disappear.  As if he could will himself out of existence once and for all.

John B reached out, taking JJ by the shoulder to keep him from retreating further.  “We’re going to find that crown.  We’re going to fix everything.”

Looking out across the water, JJ seemed to sigh.  He knew JJ, better than anyone.  He knew JJ had a finite ability to fight.  He knew that his defenses only last so long before they just fell.

He was pretty sure they were almost there.

Or, as he looked at JJ’s face, looking tiredly across the water, he thought maybe they were already there.

“I want that,” he said softly.  His voice was quiet over the sound of the engine almost lost in the churning of the water beneath the hull.  He looked at John B.  “For you guys.  I want that.”

John B felt the twinge in his chest.  “For <i>us.</i>”

He said it with force and certainty.  It was an effort to convince JJ.

But JJ just looked away again.  “I don’t know anymore.”

The admission was small – and huge all at the same time.  That twinge deepened, and John B felt the flutter in his chest send a wave of panic down his spine.  “JJ, I’m serious,” he said.  “This is for us.”

It wasn’t enough to bring JJ’s gaze back to him.  If anything, the sadness seemed to settle.  It seemed to take hold.  “Maybe it shouldn’t.”

The words were soft.

They hit <i>hard</i>.

There was something about them.  Something futile.  Something resigned.

Something like giving up.

All the years, he’d known JJ.  JJ hadn’t quit.  He’d gone through so much shit – too much shit – and always got back up swinging.

Something had changed.

Looking at JJ, he worried everything had changed.

And he didn’t know how to undo it.  He didn’t know how to fix it.

John B didn’t know how.

“What?” he asked instead.

JJ shrugged with a quiet sense of loss.  “You said it yourself,” he said, giving John B a tired look.  “This is my fault.  All of this.  Is <i>exclusively my fault.</i>”

It was true, was the thing.  John B had said it.  He’d practically demanded it, pinned JJ down, backed him into the corner until the admission was forced out of him.  In the moment – as it all came crashing down – he’d needed JJ to take that accountability.  He’d needed JJ to stop and realize what he’d done.

With emotions high – and stakes higher – it had mattered.

Because JJ didn’t think.  He never thought.

But then, John B had always known that.

And he knew why.

JJ didn’t know how.  JJ had no means for it.  He had no emotional grounding for it.

When most people were drowning, they saved themselves.  It was normal human reaction to put yourself in the lifeboat first.  It was what they all did.  It was what John B did.

It wasn’t what JJ did.

When push came to shove, JJ would jump out of the boat every single time.

JJ would drown so they could float.

And sometimes, it was easy to let him.

“I know,” he said, sighing heavily.  “But I didn’t mean–”

JJ looked at him.  The look on his face was hard to explain.  It was something John B hadn’t seen before.  JJ had been beaten down a lot in his life.

But John B had never seen him <i>broken</i>.

Not like this.

“You did,” JJ said.  There was no malice; there was no anger.  Just acceptance.  “And you were right.  All of you were right.  I ruin everything.  Everything falls apart because of me.”

John B felt his gut twist.  That had never been his point.  “I just wanted you to think about the consequences of your actions–”

“I know,” JJ said.  “I’m a moron.  I’m just stupid.  I mean, come on.  Luke wouldn’t have beat a kid who did it right.  And Groff – he wouldn’t have tried to kill me if I was <i>worth anything</i>.”

The self loathing now rippled just beneath the surface.  JJ’s face was taut with his, his voice heavy.  “JJ, shut up,” he said.  He inhaled sharply, curbing his emotions as best he could.  “That’s bullshit, and you know it.”

But JJ didn’t.

JJ didn’t know it.

JJ didn’t know it at all.

The funny thing about it all was that JJ didn’t need accountability.  No one hated JJ – more than JJ himself.  Luke had beaten him down.  Groff had broken him.

And John B had scattered the pieces all across the OBX in a self-righteous haze.

It wasn’t his fault.

But what was it he’d said?  That it wasn’t about blame?

It was just about the way two people who loved each other could hurt each other.  It was just about how two people who loved each other owed the other one everything, just for one more chance to make it right.

“JJ, good things are going to happen,” he said, stepping closer and holding his gaze.  “I swear, J.  This is going to work out.  It <i>is</i>.”

In the dying light, JJ looked stripped down.  The color washed from his face and the pretenses gone in his eyes.  John B had a sudden, horrible thought, that no matter what happened on this trip, no matter what they found, it would never make up for what JJ had lost.

“I don’t think I get good things,” JJ said, and he exhaled, a small breathless smile with no humor.  “I don’t think I get any good thing, B.”

It wasn’t just the words, the fleeting thoughts.

It was the certainty.

It was the plain certainty written all over JJ’s face, carried like a weight on his shoulders that he would never shrug off.

And John B had wanted to place blame.

Like JJ hadn’t spent his entire life thinking it was his fault.

“JJ,” he said, his own breath catching.  He shook his head.  “Why would you say that?”

He knew why.  John B had known why since the first day JJ showed up at the Chateau, bloody and bruised.  The day he insisted, swore up and down that he was fine, that he was okay, that his dad loved him.

The only way to love a world that hated you, after all, was if you took the blame.

And carried it all your life, right down to the grave.

“I don’t deserve them anyway,” JJ said.  “I mean, I had a good thing — I had the best thing, everything I ever wanted.  I had you guys, I had the charter, I had Kie—“

His voice broke, the weight of his words filling the void between them as John B didn’t trust himself to speak.

“And I threw it away,” JJ continued, voice falling soft into the stillness as he looked back across the water.  He looked at John B, swallowing hard.  “And worse, I took all of you down with me.”

John B stepped closer, taking JJ by the arm.  “Hey, none of that bullshit," he said.

JJ frowned.  “But you said—“

John B rolled his eyes.  “I was mad.  I was stressed.  I didn’t mean it.”

JJ’s face contorted.  “You should have,” he said and quickly shook his head as he pulled out of John B’s grasp.  “You did.  You were right.”

“No, because this isn’t just you or me.  It’s all of us together,” he said.  “P4L, remember?”

JJ physically flinched at the familiar invective.

John B pressed it.  “We went down together, okay?” he said.  “We’ll get back up together, too.”

And for a moment, JJ held his gaze.  For a moment, JJ heard him,

For a moment, JJ believed him.

But the reality crashed back in, and JJ looked away, blinking hard as he breathed heavily.  “We’ll see,” he mumbled, wholly unconvinced.

He wanted to reassure him.  He wanted to fix this.

Because JJ was his best friend.  JJ was his brother.  John B had lost too many people. He couldn't lose another one, not JJ

It wasn’t the same, though.  It didn’t work the way it used to.

JJ was right here with him, and he’d never been further away.  John B had known this from the start.  JJ wasn’t reckless for the sake of pissing them off.  JJ wasn’t reckless because he was stupid or selfish.  JJ was reckless because he was scared.

JJ was reckless because he would rather choose his own pain than endure what others gave him.  The race had been a sign that JJ was losing control, and John B hadn’t done anything.  Then with Luke, Groff, the land, the riot.

John B had been so wrapped up in himself that he’d lost sight of JJ.

Now, even as he tried to steer them to salvation, he worried he might lose JJ altogether.  Death took many forms, he knew this from experience.  The worst ones happened while your heart was still beating and air still moved in your lungs.

Because JJ <i>was right here</i>.

But he felt further away than ever.

[kimium]

It's that time of the year again! I always love writing a little year fic review for myself. I find it fun to look back on my writing and reflect. So, here it is for 2024. All my statistics comes from AO3.

My Fic Review for 2024

Statistic Stuff

My “Top Five” fics by hits:

Just a Normal Citizen (Not a Dimension Traveler) - Twisted Wonderland

Longing, Action, and Desire - Twisted Wonderland

Obviously We are Engaged VS I Wonder if Silver Likes Me? - Twisted Wonderland

Silent Hypocrisy - Twisted Wonderland

Warming Up in Snippets (2) - Multi-fandom

My most bookmarked fic: Just a Normal Citizen (Not a Dimension Traveler)

How many words I wrote in 2024: 253,827

Question Stuff

What was the most surprising thing about writing in 2024?

The most surprising thing about 2024 was finally writing a co-written piece again. After a long hiatus, I ended up writing a fanfic with one of my dearest friends @m34gs. What started as a joke over our tea time turned into me going "You know what? We're going to write this."

I am so grateful to my friend because the fic wouldn't exist without her. I'm still very uncomfortable writing Sebek and was certain I couldn't do an entire chapter in his perspective. Yes, I could have written both chapters and stuck to Silver's perspective, but I felt writing in Sebek's perspective was important for several reasons. The biggest one being the dramatic irony Sebek's perspective provides.

Oh, and speaking of my friend, I'm still super shocked our Sort of Saw Franchise AU fics are doing well. Like, we truly thought a year ago when we started it that maybe five people if we were lucky would like it. We are truly so appreciative of all the support and love!

2. What was the most enjoyable to write?

Without a doubt my most enjoyable project of the year is my Twisted Wonderland fic How to Become a God (Get Possessed). It has been a long time since a fic took me by the hand and didn't let me go as I wrote it. Truly, this fic is my passion project and while it isn't very popular, it's in my top 3 favourite fics of 2024.

3. Which fic is the most underrated?

Oh, my Honkai Star Rail fic that's in my Warming Up in Snippets (2) collection. Which is such a shame because I really love Honkai Star Rail, but writing for the fandom has been hard.

4. Which fic(s) had something “cut” or had an idea that never happened?

-As I said last year in Just a Normal Citizen (Not a Dimension Traveler) I had some violent scenes planned that never got written. However, now that I officially started my snippet sequel How to Balance Dimension Hopping (Do Your Best), I hope I can rectify this!

-In Riddle's chapter for How to Become a God (Get Possessed) I had some extra scenes planned. They were mostly him with Trey and Che'nya but they felt too similar in tone. I cut them in order to be a bit more straightforward.

-Kalim's chapter almost had an entire overhaul to it so I could write a bit more Jamil being suspicious. However, I wanted his betrayal to be a shock for Kalim and figured too many suspicious scenes would push the limit of Kalim's naive nature.

-For Vil's chapter in the God AU I almost wrote a bit more Neige and Vil scenes, but I never got around to it.

5. Which fic(s) did you want to write but didn’t get around to?

-Still haven't written established Vil/Rook who high key flirt with other characters they are attracted to. I am still going to write this with them flirting with Trey but I also want to write them flirting with: Jack, Cater, Deuce, Ace, and Yuu. This will be a 2025 fic... I hope.

-I want to finish up my Platonic Yandere AU. Though, if I am speedy I may be able to finish it up early in the new year.

-It is a little late to the year, so it's fine I never wrote it, but I finished playing both AI: Somnium Files games. Perhaps I'll write a fic or two for the series as I quite enjoyed the games.

6. Any WIPs that never got published?

That SDR2 fic I started in April/May. Since I never finished it, I never posted it.

7. Share a snippet from a WIP fic?

Here is a snippet from the next instalment for the Platonic Yandere AU!

"Crowley liked running Yuu around doing various tasks but when it came to payment he was on the stingy side. It was usually a bit of a pain considering Yuu had to feed Grim, their adorable glutton, but it was do-able. Even though countless times Yuu was tempted to talk to any one of their more financially well-off friends, they never mustered the courage to do so. Someone like Kalim would help them without a second thought but taking without giving anything back sat sour in the back of Yuu’s throat."

8. Which fic was the one you were most “excited” to write?

I was so excited to write my God AU. You all have no idea. I was also very excited to finish Just a Normal Citizen (Not a Dimension Traveler). It was a year long project and I'm so pleased with the result and love the fic has received.

9. Fic Hopes for the New Year?

I want to try writing for one new fandom next year. I've been in a bit of a Twisted Wonderland mood and while I love it and will continue writing for the series, it's nice to change things up.

I also really want to write another SDR2 Komahina fic. They are truly my loves and comfort ship. I haven't forgotten about them and I want to revist their dynamic soon.

I also want to write more co-written fics again. While it is hard to juggle and manage, they're some of the fics I cherish the most.

Anyways, here is my little review. I hope you enjoyed reading it! And if you have anything you want me to expand on, feel free to send an ask!

Also, the other years I never tagged people but this time I think I will! I tag: @a-little-harmed-shinra, @m34gs, @someobscurereference, and @shreedle!!

[reneesbooks]

Plot notecards -- elaborate?? (If you want to? Says a writer desperate for any plot tips she can get)

Also I need to meet Will Moore

--@oh-no-another-idea

yes i will happily elaborate i love notecards i use them for like. everything. i have a postit dispenser on my desk at work that i filled with notecards lol

so this is a method i developed when i was in a novel writing class in college and does require a fairly large number of notecards but that's it in terms of supplies! low budget option for if you're like me and need to see things visually laid out but also need them to be portable and rearrangeable and easily exchangeable. i have color coded notecards for some wips because i am Like That and i will be using the thieves of morbhard (red) for this example but you might see some lacuna ones (blue) sprinkled in there. tragically i couldn't find my original three moons notecards and think they might have gotten recycled in the move T-T

you can do this with or without chapter notecards--the original project i did this for had no chapter divisions and thus no chapter notecards but i made them for thieves before the scene ones. they're a good way to outline the big strokes of the story even if you don't know how many chapters you'll need. you can always make a new notecard if things change! allow me to explain

here's a chapter notecard from thieves. one the blank side i put a quick descriptor of the main event for the chapter and/or the chapter name if i know it, a number so i can easily put everything in order later, and a label so i know which wip it belongs to. the lined side has my actual notes for the chapter--this can be flexible depending on your style! i like to at least have an opening and closing scene to anchor myself when i actually sit down to write, and then just some quick and dirty notes on what i imagine happening/what scenes i hallucinated in the shower seem like they fit in this general part of the story/major emotional beats, etc. this can be as detailed or as sparse as you like! another less detailed example from thieves, this time chapter 8:

obligatory kitty picture (she's helping!):

ok so the scene notecards. this is the real meat of this method. this originally started as a nanowrimo method and the idea was that i would have this little deck of scene cards to pull from when i was feeling stuck/didn't want to write/hadn't hit my wordcount yet and then i would have to write whatever that scene was. this is still a really good strategy for me and is the main reason that i love using actual physical notecards.

on the blank side is a short descriptor of the scene. these are all from different chapters of thieves and some of them are really short scenes with a lot of emotional weight, and some are major story beats that probably take place over multiple scenes. there's no rules as to how you divide up your scenes on the notecards! as long as it's something distinct enough that you'll know what you're talking about when you pick it up after a week or two. if your notecards aren't color coded a wip label probably wouldn't hurt

second kitty picture (she's NOT helping)

the backside is similar to chapter notecards in that it's super flexible what you put there--i've got explanations for plot points, emotional beats, i've even written snippets of dialogue that i thought of or a descriptor i think sounds cool. this side of the notecard can even be blank! i also label them with which chapter they come from (if i know) for ease of organization if they get all mixed up when i don't want them to be. here's those same scene notecards from thieves again:

you can use the scene cards and the chapter cards together, to organize when things happen in the story/what order they happen within the chapter. here's an example from lacuna of my scene and chapter cards for chapter 1:

another thing i like to do, especially when i'm still making the notecards/not drafting yet--take out the chapter cards and shuffle the scene cards, then flip through adding notes to the back side until they all have something that i feel like i can work off of when i sit down to draft. i've gotten a pretty detailed outline of thieves with this method before writing any actual prose! this also works in retrospective (which is how it started anyway) like i did with lacuna, where i had a draft and then made scene cards based on what i'd already written/what i wanted to write/what i felt like was missing and organized from there. all around a super versatile method and medium for plotting!