#and the roads are dealt with properly

[nerdierholler]

We’re supposed to get 4-8 inches of snow on Friday. In some places this would not be a big deal. This is a shut-most-things-down snowfall around here except I have to work Friday and Saturday and we almost never close for weather. In fact Saturday is supposed to be a really busy all-hands-on-deck day because it’s a special event weekend we’ve been planning for months. Yay…

[aroacettorney]

au where bretus kindom took marias selmore as hostage to blackmail casey and have her track down heathcliff van bretus for them

[deswhomst]

nothing fucks me up more than imagining the four black cousins’ reactions to finding out regulus had died. he was the youngest one and the first to go (at only eighteen).

bellatrix cared about family image and was devoted to the death eater cause. she was probably very proud of regulus joining up and i think her immediate reaction to his death would be anger. she would be apparently disappointed and embarrassed but deep down a lot of that rage would come from the unfairness of losing regulus so young. she would not embrace it, though, and it would probably manifest in form of a few mental breakdowns.

andromeda hadn’t been a part of the family for years but that meant she never saw regulus become a death eater. of course she wouldn’t support that decision but the image of him in her mind would be her little cousin. she didn’t see him past a certain age and to find out that that kid she remembered made all the wrong choices and got himself dead as a result would probably fuck her up. it wouldn’t destroy her life or whatever but i imagine she cried all night when she heard.

under the cut for narcissa and sirius !!!! all the “sirius hated regulus” crowd can leave right now <3

now narcissa, this one would be bad. regulus was still in her life and they probably saw each other a lot. to me these two were very close and shared experiences so narcissa found it easy to talk to regulus and vice versa. could they talk to anyone else about andromeda and sirius? nope. no one else understood. it wasn’t just that, though, of course. i imagine that narcissa advised regulus against getting the dark mark at age 16. she probably had a bad feeling about it and told him to wait but when does regulus ever listen?

narcissa would be crushed when she heard the news. the worst part? she couldn’t talk about it the way she wanted to because regulus was the only one who got it and he was gone. also with lucius gone on DE business she could’ve just spent days and nights alone crying about it and i don’t think she ever properly dealt with it. life just went on and she had her own son (who she wanted regulus to meet and cried about that too) and she had to focus on her own family now.

regulus was sirius’ brother. sirius probably couldn’t believe what he heard at first. sure they had been estranged for three years but hadn’t they had fifteen years before that? it’s not easy to erase that. i feel like when sirius heard it, there was this ringing in his ear -> Regulus is dead Regulus is dead Regulus is dead Regulus is dead Regulus is dead Regulus is dead Regulus is dead Regulus is dead Regulus is dead Regulus is dead Regulus is dead Regulus is dead Regulus is dead Regulus is dead Regulus is dead Regulus is dead Regulus is dead Regulus is dead Regulus is dead Regulus is dead Regulus is dead Regulus is dead Regulus is dead Regulus is dead Regulus is dead Regulus is dead Regulus is dead Regulus is dead Regulus is dead Regulus is dead Regulus is dead Regulus is dead Regulus is dead Regulus is dead Regulus is dead Regulus is dead Regulus is dead Regulus is dead Regulus is dead Regulus is dead Regulus is dead Regulus is dead Regulus is dead Regulus is dead Regulus is dead Regulus is dead Regulus is dead Regulus is dead Regulus is dead Regulus is dead Regulus—

anyways. before this happened, there was also a possibility that sirius could have reconnected with regulus. it’s like… somewhere down the road, if regulus came to his senses, maybe things could be different but now that he was dead, there was nothing left to do. death is final. and sirius cared. he said:

From what I found out after he died

not “from what i heard” !!!! this, to me, is an important detail. it implies that sirius looked for answers and he didn’t just hear that regulus died & moved on. another thing is that this was war time and he probably didn’t have the luxury to go around and investigate an insignificant death eater’s passing but he did. he tried. he cared. and the way sirius talked about regulus screamed to me this bitter sense of regret (not regret of his own decisions but regret of regulus’).

“stupid idiot” translated to me as -> “oh this stupid idiot joined the wrong side of the war, this stupid idiot blindly believed everything our parents said, and died as a result. he couldn’t handle the service and got killed. he could have lived a good and long life if he didn’t join the death eaters.”

to conclude, i think sirius was initially in straight up denial about it and tried to find out what happened. he never got any closure, of course, because no one really knew what had happened to regulus. i think even further sirius’ way of coping was to mask his grief with a layer of bashing (??) regulus (i can’t think of a better word. what i mean is that he just kept thinking about regulus bringing this on himself and how it could have been avoided if regulus hadn’t been a puppet to his parents). so yeah, regret. loads of it.

[jilyawards]

January

Now Everybody-- (completed, 4.6k) by @yallthemwitches. Rated T.

“He’s a muggleborn too, I think that’s why she likes him,” James says, now talking to no one but himself and the ceiling. “He listens to all the same muggle music, watches films… they probably go do cool muggle things like fairs and refrigerators… ride airplanes…” “Mate, I don’t think you do a refrigerator.” James ignores him, barreling onwards. “Meanwhile, I’m stuck here, basking in the feeling of how soft her skin was on my bloody arm like a fool.”

there's no place like home for the holidays (completed, 36,7k) by @thejilyship. Rated T.

Christmastime is hard. ~Lily~ Lily's life has recently exploded. She has moved twice in the last two months, broken up with a man she had thought she was going to marry, and is currently headed home to go to her sister's Christmas time wedding alone. Even though she and her sister argued over giving Lily a plus one quite explosively. And now she's got an asshole neighbor who basically shoved her down the stairs. ~James~ James has been in love with Marlene McKinnon since he was eleven. She has absolutely no interest in him, and his friends have tried just about everything they can think of to dissuade him from pinning for her. And his parents won't stop setting him up with their friends grandchildren. Because they're old and they think James needs help. What if someone were to assume that the two of them were dating when they're spotted in the airport together? What if they didn't correct them? What if they used their easy chemistry and proximity to make Christmastime that much easier for the both of them?

the road not taken (looks real good now) (completed, 3.2k) by @emmathecasualauthor. Not rated.

He blinks, forcing himself to focus, but it's all there in his mind, like it’s happening again. Or: James sees Lily at a bookshop in muggle London

keep pace (completed, 8.6k) by @gigglesandfreckles-hp. Rated T.

“So,” she says after a moment, her voice light, “is this a thing you do? Invite girls to kill themselves on a run after you find them crying. Or am I special?” Sirius laughs. It’s a sharp sound, almost surprised, but it makes her stomach loosen. “You’re special,” he says dryly, finally turning to look at her properly. He watches her for a beat longer than she expects, like he’s searching for something in her face—some answer she doesn’t know how to give. Whatever it is, he seems to find it.

The One Sharp, Tangible Thing (completed, 2.2k) by @yallthemwitches. Rated T.

“It’s horrid for you, you know.” “No worries–I do loads of things that are bad for me,” he smirks. “Oh? Like what?” He falters, the rushing stream of banter getting interrupted by a fork in the river. Maybe she is imagining it, but she sees the words start to form on his lips. Fancying you. 

White Winter Hymnals (completed, 16k) by @tedwardremus. Rated G.

Holiday themed jily snippets from age eleven to adulthood

Afterglow (completed, 1.3k) by @yallthemwitches. Rated T.

A soft silence falls over them, strangely comfortable given the circumstances. She can feel his heartbeat against her forearm, a defiant thump thump thump that serves as a reminder that yes, you are in his bed with his hand over your body and his face unreasonably close to yours.

At Least I'm Gonna Say That I Tried (completed, 5.8k) by @yallthemwitches. Rated T.

“Call me what you want, Evans. I deserve it,” he pants, “But then I’m going to need you to make my Christmas wish come true a few more times because – Merlin– I’ll do anything for it.”

Betting on It (completed, 700 words) by @chierafied. Rated T.

If Lily hadn’t downed those last two tequila shots, she might’ve wondered how she ended up here: squinting at the cards she’d been dealt while sneaking appreciative glances at the very impressive set of abs.

Bad Egg (completed, 1.1k) by @annabtg. Rated G.

Lily's greatest fear lurks on the breakfast table.

Eternal Recurrence (WIP, 15.6k as of 31 Jan 2025) by @girlhoodpostmortem. Not rated.

"This was always going to happen. She’s been dead since the beginning." - The Oresteia A Marauders fic inspired by The Book Thief by Markus Zusak/inspired by a textpost by @pomegranateroot15 on Tumblr.

November/December recs available HERE!

[maraschinomerry]

Sleepless Nights pt1

Pairings: George Karim x gn!reader

Summary: as if it wasn't enough to be woken up in the middle of the night, the events that occur are going to stop you going back to sleep

Content: canon-adjacent, canon-typical horror/fear elements, hurt/comfort, psychological implications

A/N: this is my first ever fic that I've written to intentionally be multiple parts so please be patient with me (and thank you to @neewtmas and @uku-lelevillain for encouraging me to do it this way)! I thought it'd be really interesting to explore the lasting implications of the events of the Annabel Ward case - none of the characters seem to get much sleep anyway, so I'm building on that. There should be 2 more parts of this to cover the home invasion and Combe Carey Hall (part 2 is like 75% written already 👀)

Word count: 2.7k

Taglist: @neewtmas @marinalor @ettadear @honey-with-tea @mischiefmanaged71

It had been a long night.

It started with the thundering of feet past your door in the middle of the night. You stirred, rolling over to glance blearily at your alarm clock, but even if you'd got your eyes to focus it was still too dark to make it out properly. What was Lucy playing at, running through the house at a time like this? You tried to go back to sleep, but the padding of more feet and a couple of dull thuds alerted you to the fact that there was something going on. Reluctantly, you flicked off your duvet, pulled on a pair of socks and a jumper and wandered to the door. On the landing below, Lucy was standing in Lockwood's bedroom, peering past the boy leaning on the doorframe. A pair of boots lay scattered in front of the other door, which you supposed explained the thuds, and as it creaked open George emerged in socks, an oversized T-shirt and an equally oversized scowl. You weren't the only one annoyed at being disturbed, then.

“Can't you even be bothered to cross the landing to wind me up?” Was that what this was about? You'd been dragged from peaceful sleep for a prank?

“Annabel Ward's ghost is here,” Lockwood replied quickly and quietly. Dread settled in the pit of your stomach. She was the ghost they'd dealt with at that Sheen Road house, and it had ended badly. But at least they’d secured her. How had she followed them home? Was that something ghosts could do? As George returned to his room to prepare, you stepped back into yours and grabbed a handful of salt bombs and your rapier.

Together you headed cautiously up to the attic. Part of you had expected to hear wailing, crashing, anything, not the silence of an empty room.

“I don't feel anything.” George confirmed your suspicions, hand on the door. If this really was an elaborate prank you were going to be so mad. He was prepared for the worst, though - chains, rapier, torch and two full body belts of salt bombs, flares, a whole stash. Lockwood had taken the chains, and now he took the lead. You hadn't been in here very often, you only joined the agency shortly before Lucy and the guys had kept mostly to themselves so you were still adjusting to the idea of your personal spaces being so open. It was a little unnerving seeing it now so dark and desolate, lit only by the sickly torchlight glow. A spread of articles about the dead starlet littered her floor, and as you scanned the room you spotted another on the wall by her bed. She must be more invested in this case than you'd realised. Below it were other photos of a young redhead girl, and you would have almost assumed they were of Annabel too were it not for the fact Lucy was in them. Oh.

“We contained her source, covered her body with a silver net,” you heard Lockwood say. You grimaced at the thought of finding an actual body. Ghosts were bad enough without having to contend with their corpse.

“How did she even get in here?” George continued, joining you in looking at the pictures on the way. “It's not as if her source is inside the house.” When there was no response, you all turned and looked at a slightly sheepish Lucy.

“Is it?” Lockwood pressed. Before she could respond, there was a whispering from the entrance to the room, and she raised her torch just in time to catch curling wisps of other-light before they disappeared into nothing.

“Uh… she's back.”

You and George moved away from the wall, closer to the main group. Instinctively, you drifted towards Lucy, figuring she would be your best bet against the ghost she'd already survived twice. George hung back, and as you all swept your beams across the room to catch where she might appear next, he missed the glow manifesting over his shoulder.

“George…” Lockwood began, low and warning. “Don't… move.”

A face was forming now from the glow, long hair falling as it appeared. George stayed remarkably calm. “Please tell me it's a wasp.”

“Stand perfectly still.” Lockwood tensed the chain. Whether Annabel noticed or whether she was always going to react this way, her face began to contort. “On second thoughts, move!”

George dove towards the empty space in front of the door as Annabel lunged forwards with a snarl. Lockwood swung the chain; Lucy switched her torch to her other hand and hurled a salt bomb; you brandished your rapier. The ghost vanished in a burst of sparks, but you knew that wasn't the end.

“Not a wasp, then,” George huffed.

You needed to find the source to put an end to this, and you all knew it. Lockwood pushed Lucy for an explanation, but before she could offer one the ghost appeared from nowhere, Lucy almost running into her as she turned. She stumbled back, landing between the boys as you surged forward and threw two of your salt bombs. The chain slashed through her and she dissipated once more. You all formed a circle, back to back, spinning slowly. George was on your right, Lockwood your left, and Lucy on their other side.

“I had her ring in my hand, and then I fell asleep with it,” she finally explained. The bed came into view as you turned, and you began to move towards it before Lockwood reached out and stopped you.

“Let’s get rid of this thing properly, then we can go searching.”

Those fine silvery tendrils began to unfurl down the far side of the bed and the group broke into formation with Lockwood at the head.

“Oh, shit.” George's voice shook, reflecting your thoughts exactly. On Lockwood's word, they swapped weapons, so now you and the taller boy had the rapiers and the other two held the chain across behind you.

“Be ready to move,” Lockwood told you quietly. You nodded.

Annabel was fully formed and furious. You heard the warning shouted as she lunged again and you all reacted at once. Lockwood twisted as he jumped towards the bed while you rolled towards the window, your rapier clattering from your grip, and Lucy and George surged forward with the chain which sliced the ghost in half. She reformed quickly, quicker than you expected. You were a sitting duck, squatting behind the armchair and with nowhere to go but back towards the wardrobe and the spirit in front of it.

“Y/n, go!” Lucy yelled as she hurled more salt bombs. Annabel flickered, just long enough for you to escape your hiding place. George ushered you behind him, into the safety of the eaves, giving you a second to catch your breath. He threw a quick glance over his shoulder to check you were okay and you nodded gratefully, hands on your knees.

“George, throw it all, everything you've got!” Lockwood said forcefully. The other boy reacted immediately, flinging his body belts in one fluid motion, and you tried to ignore the glimpse of bare skin as his T-shirt rode up with them. He almost crashed into you as everyone ducked back from the explosion of the screaming ghost, his hands grasping at your jumper and yours at his arms to stop you both from toppling. Lucy had landed on the bed and Lockwood down the other side. His face popped up, halfway between a smile and a grimace as he held aloft a silver ring with green gems.

If you'd had your way, you'd have gone back to bed and tried to forget the whole thing. It was still very early in the morning after all, the sky outside a rich blue dotted with stars. Instead you all ended up in the kitchen, listening to Lucy explain why she'd thought it was a good idea to take Annabel's ring, which was now in a silver-glass case. Something about a psychic connection, she said.

“I literally cannot believe you stole a source from a crime scene,” George shook his head in bewilderment. He'd swapped his boots for a pair of grey sweatpants and was leaning against the edge of the sink. You sat on the worktop on his right, watching the argument unfold.

“Excuse me,” Lucy countered. “I'm not the only one around here who steals sources. What about that ridiculous skull you're always experimenting on?” She had a point, and it added a whole new layer of worry to the events of the night. How many other sources did your team have hidden around the house? How many other visitors were waiting to attack in your sleep?

“What exactly are you planning on doing with this psychic connection?” you asked instead.

Lucy looked to you, relieved to have someone care about her reasoning. “Solve her case. Get justice for those 40 years she spent boarded up in some wall.”

“She's dead, Lucy.” Trust Lockwood to state the obvious. “We need to destroy her source. Let her go.”

The girl at the other end of the dining table looked so defeated that you felt sorry for her before remembering she'd basically invited an angry ghost into your home.

“Come on George, back me up,” she pleaded as she moved forward. He tried to deny it, but you knew from the moment she suggested trying to communicate with Annabel that it was an opportunity he wouldn't be able to resist. When he joined her, Lockwood looked at you.

“What do you think, y/n?”

You weren't exactly sold, but you could tell Lucy would never find peace until she tried and you trusted the boy beside her to keep things as safe as he could. Besides, there was no way you'd be able to get to sleep knowing your friends were downstairs putting themselves at risk. “Fine, let's try it,” you sighed, hopping down from the counter and standing at Lucy's other side.

The first rays of daylight were creeping into the study, the site of this experiment, by the time you were all set. You wondered whether you were likely to get any sleep at all tonight as you squeezed into the alcove behind Lockwood and George. The curtains were drawn, leaving the room dimly lit by only a lamp in the corner and the picture light on the wall. It would have felt cosy if not for the sense of foreboding that had settled over you. Ever the researcher, George had a small notebook and pen to record any useful information or unusual activity (though you hoped there wasn't any). A hush fell over the group as Lockwood placed the ring in Lucy’s palm. Silver shards spread from within it like ice, and she closed her fingers around the cool metal.

“It's okay, Annabel,” she murmured, eyes closed. “It's safe.” You admired her confidence. If you were given the choice to be half-possessed by a ghost who had tried to kill you less than an hour ago, you'd be encasing the source in so much silver-glass you could barely see through it. Your fears were confirmed when, as the session continued, Lucy rose to her feet and moved towards Lockwood. You all tensed. Lucy's eyes suddenly opened, but she wasn't really looking at any of you. That foreboding feeling tugged at the core of you, deep in your chest.

“Something isn't right,” you whispered through your teeth. George glanced at you, but said nothing.

“He's angry. Jealous.” Lucy's expression twitched as though fighting the wave of emotions she was being subjected to. “She's afraid. Again.” Her hand came up to Lockwood's cheek and he took her by the wrist; she pulled away, then stroked him again, then away once more. “It's alright. He loves me. You love me don't you?” Something was definitely wrong. She shouldn't be switching perspectives like that. Things were going too deep. The boy in front of you could sense it too.

“We need to stop this, now,” he said darkly over his shoulder, not breaking his focus on Lucy.

“Let's just see what happens.” George was writing something. You knew he was invested in seeing this through, but at the expense of your friend's safety seemed a step too far.

“George…” you began, and he turned a questioning gaze to you. Lucy let out a gasp, and you both snapped your attention back to the matter at hand. She was choking on nothing, clawing at her own throat. Reliving Annabel's final moments.

“Lucy, stop it. Annabel!” Lockwood was gripping her now, trying to bring her back to herself. You were frozen in horror. George thought for a moment before he barged past and flung open the curtains.

Everything happened in slow motion and too quickly. The room was flooded with light, the glare of the early morning sun temporarily blinding you so you almost missed the chair flying through the air. Lockwood was quicker, spinning his body to shield Lucy as they landed on an armchair. You had less chance to react. As you dropped to the ground, the rush of the chair passing above you ruffled your hair. It collided with the bookcase, one of its legs snapping clean off and another breaking as it hit a table and rolled from there onto your back and across the floor. It was hard to tell whether the scream that followed came from you or Annabel or both as the room exploded into a shower of impossibly bright sparks, bursting and scattering in succession. Your arms were wrapped over your head, legs tucked under in a crouch, and you curled yourself in even closer as the flakes of light fell around you, illuminating patches of the carpet. You felt something on one of your hands and flinched, but the warmth was not from a spark but skin. Fingers wrapped around your palm and more across your shoulders, pulling you from the alcove and against the security of a trembling yet firm chest. Your breath came in gasps, shaking even more than the person holding you.

“Are you hurt?” George asked quietly from above. You hummed a vague response - nothing was bleeding or broken as far as you could tell if that's what he meant, but your back ached from the impact of the chair and you were too shaken to speak. He stepped back slightly, holding you steady as he moved around you. You twisted to follow his gaze, ignoring the pain in your spine as you did so, and noticed that Lockwood had led Lucy from the room to recover. George's breath hitched, and you soon saw why. The back of your jumper was dotted with tiny scorch marks, nowhere near deep enough to have done you any harm but enough to leave the fabric irreparable.

“Shit,” he whispered, paling.

“It's fine,” you groaned, sinking into the nearest armchair. “It's an old jumper anyway, it's not the end of the world.”

“It's not the jumper I'm worried about.”

It was so rare to see him the way he was looking at you, so tender and full of concern, that it made all the remaining fight leave your body. You wanted to say something, to tell him that it wasn't his fault. Lucy had been in immediate danger, you'd have done the same thing if you hadn't been so scared, it was just the way things worked out that she had both boys protecting her and you only had yourself. Still, he'd come for you the second he could, so how could you blame him? But exhaustion overtook you, and you suspected that if you tried to voice any of those thoughts you'd only end up feeling worse, so instead what you said was: “Come on, it's been a long night. I'm going to try and get a couple of hours’ rest before we start again.” George nodded and wordlessly helped you to your feet and up the stairs.

“Sleep well,” he said softly as he left you at your bedroom door.

You didn't.

[thanksbutno98]

Simple Things - Pet Peeves

John Price likes to think he is a tolerant man. Someone who lets things roll off his back but that just wasn’t true. His grumpy nature would win out more often than not.

Every day:

Leave him in a room with a leaky faucet and he’ll lose his mind. Anything that has a simple fix and hasn’t been fixed will drive the man crazy. A hinge that needs a little WD-40 or one light bulb that’s gone out will be dealt with accordingly. If it’s at someone else’s house he’ll ask you as soon as you’re in the car if you could believe how the bathroom door squealed. John is also the type of guy that you ask him to fix the leaky faucet and you end up finding him on the roof fixing the shingling because he became so distracted and kept finding other problems to fix on his way to the faucet.

John Price can’t stand bad drivers. You can not convince me this man doesn’t have road rage. Slow down at a yellow? He’ll honk. Cut him off? He’ll cut them off right back. John’s annoyance with bad drivers once resulted in him getting flipped off by a priest. You still remind him of that when he starts to drive like a crazy person. The man’s convinced he’s the only good driver and everyone else needs to go back and take their drivers test again.

One of John’s biggest pet peeve is bad manners. It might be because respect is so huge in his line of work that bad manners equate to disrespect in his kind. It’s a laundry list of things that instantly get under his skin. Loud chewing, leaving your table a disaster at a restaurant, forgetting please and thank yous. The one that get him going the most is when he sees the person in front of you not hold the door for you. John knows it’s a bit old fashion but a fire lights in his chest when he sees you not being treated with the respect you deserve.

Work:

As amazing of a Captain, Price is. His inability to deal with new recruits or be around anyone who doesn’t know how to hold a gun properly is an instant headache. If he’s in charge of training that’s a different story. When the newbies aren’t his problem he’s almost always nitpicking whoever is in charge. He’ll say snarky things and be a bit of an ass but we love him anyway.

John Price cannot stand when those in his command are disrespectful to the civilians they have been ordered to protect. Whether that be to the civilians face or behind their back if John overhears anything he’s intervening. To think that people in John’s command would think themselves better than those that they swore to protect lights a fire in John. There is no room for disrespect due to language barriers or any other reason someone can come up with. This board lines being more than a pet peeve. Depending on the level of disrespect John can be utterly vindictive making the soldier run until they puke or even transferring them out of his command sighting their poor behavior as the reason.

Small talk. The man cannot stand small talk. Usually he can grin and bear it when not deployed but when working and someone asks John a none work related question he’s instantly annoyed. If he wanted to chit chat he wouldn’t have joined the military.

Relationship:

Another pet peeve and this only reared its ugly head when John had children, is toys being left around. He has to dodge enough trip wires and be on guard when deployed he doesn’t want to have to mind his step at home. His biggest nemesis in the world is the Lego company. Not only are they insanely over priced but stepping on them is another world of pain. He told you once he would use them if he ever had to torture someone. John would make them walk across a floor filled of them and then he’d have the information he needed.

John’s biggest pet peeve with his loving wife is one he actively scolds you about. He hates the way you organize things but especially in your shared bathroom. It has become a silent war between the pair of you and you will change it back to the way you like when he’s not aware. John liked the important things to be at his eye level leaving them out of reach for you at times. As It’s the smallest thing to disagree on but John is prepared to die on the hill that all medication needs to be on the top shelf even if it’s yours. This has resulted in you both never knowing where things are which makes you both annoyed with the other.

John’s final pet peeve in a relationship is when he’s proven wrong about something. When John thinks he’s right there’s no changing his mind unless evidence is provided. But as soon as you prove to him that World War I started in 1914 not 1913 he’ll be pissy the entire rest of the day. Forget it if someone else proves him wrong he’ll be fuming. At least with you he loves you enough to eventually let it go. But if you bring it up later he’ll pretend like it never happened.

~~~~~tag list~~~~~

@exhaustedpotat0 @glitterypirateduck @ivymarquis @crazymela @what-0-life @boredfairy4 @hihhasotherfixations @stephanswhxre @shanjisan n @k4es @luvleywrites @kita03-0 @midwesternwitchery @aleynaleia @suckerforbassist @misshoneypaper @theaonlax @blackstar9005 @tooterbutt @havoc973 @maladaptivedaydreamingbum @freshlemontea @cosmoscoffeee @sae1kie @ohworm-writes @ghostslittlegf @fanficwriterlover

[naberrieshifting]

My first Resident evil (main DR) Shift

DISCLAIMER!

Everybody reacts to things differently so please self insert and think before shifting to a risky DR like this, im already used to conflict because of my Star Wars DR and I don’t really get affected by things at all so just yeah think before you shift ❤️

So pretty much my lore is basically the same as my CR except I moved to the US as a kid (im Australian) and then after high school I started studying to become a detective almost immediately so that way I could be a fully trained one by the time I turned 21, but when I was 20 I was being placed in raccoon city to finish my training there so fast forward to September 30th 1998, the station had told me not to come down but didn’t mention why but because I had already sorted out a place to rent and stuff I had to go to raccoon city anyway so me and my friend lea went there and she was helping me move and we have another friend called Mary who already lives in raccoon city, fast forward a few hours we stop a petrol station and suprise suprise we run into leon and claire but the petrol station had already been over run so we all hoped into a cop car and headed to the city and once we got there the road had been blocked off so we hopped out of the car to run to the police station but we ended up being over run with zombies so me and leon end up getting seperated from claire and lea and we found our way to the police station and turns out my friend mary was already there and marvin who wasn’t too happy to see us😓

then fast forward through finding all the coins to get into the car park were in that undergroumd area and fight the literal devil (will birkin) which we dealt with then we went to the underground car park and met ada and my friend mary was immediately all goo goo heart eyes for her i fear (i scripted that the key card was easy to get) so then ada left to go talk to him and we followed her and grabbed the key card and let Ben out of his cell and went to leave the car park but then mr x came out of no where and we had to pretty much sprint the fuck away then Ada hopped in the fbi van and ran him over and blew him up❤️, then we went to the gunshop across the road from the police Station as the road had caved in and this was honestly the saddest thing I have ever seen because the owners daughter was infected and then Ada went to shoot her but the owner stopped her and Leon convinced her not too and then leon got mad at ada for not telling any of us anything that was going on and then she told us her idea of everything then me and leon were like if its gonna help the city then sure and mary was just too heart eyes to refuse atp i fear, then we end up in the sewers leon runs from this creepy ass fish lizard thing thing which was highkey scary asf Anyways fast forward a bit me and Leon got separated from Mary and Ada because of some unfortunate events of Leon deadass taking a bullet for me because I tried to take one for Ada after Annette birkin shot at her😍 and I told Mary and Ada to keep going while I waited for Leon to wake up and shit because he passed out while I was taking the bullet out but the afterwards we kept going (literally had no clue where they were I fear they were no where to be found) but then we found the railway to the nest and while we were on the railway to the umbrellas nest Leon was all “Thankyou for you know saving me back there😓” and I was all “you saved me first😇” and then he kissed me and was like “I’m sorry, if we’re going to die I just..” and then I kissed him again and was like “we’re not going to die” and then fast forward we get the sample find Maryij the depth of the hive looking wel distraught and Ada is literally no where to be found and we get tf out of there before the whole thing self destructs, we finally properly defeat final form Mr x on our way out and then we jump on the train and I’m like “omg where tf is lea and Claire😰” cause I know that they were down there somewhere too because I had managed to get ahold of lea and then we actually inside of said train and lea and Claire Are there with sherry and this other little girl Rina then fast forward again we destroy the last form of will birkin and get out of the hive before it self destructs and escape the city and we walk for like an hour before a military truck stops and picks us up but Claire leaves to go find her brother with Rina and then fast forward again we’re in hospital, sherry is like heavily guarded and I’m like still freaking tf out so I go find Leon’s room and I’m like “hi🥲” and he’s like “are you ok?” And I’m like “not really😍” and then I’m like “can I stay in here?” And he like nods his head and moves over and shared his tiny ass hospital bed because now we’re #traumabonded and I fell asleep and then that’s when I shifted back here

This was 7 months ago now (DR time) and a lot more has happened but yeah this is basically just my raccoon city experience

If you have any questions let me know because this is lowkey the fastest way least in depth way I could explain what happened that night

[timkontheunsure]

I’d like your opinion on a few theories about something Viv teased about the next episodes. She said that they culminate in the ending of an arc they’ve been building up for awhile. I have 3 theories what that could be

1. Blitz-overcoming his low self esteem and demons, able to move on

2. Stolas- he stands up for himself against the goetia, possibly stripped of his title.

3.stolitz- they finally talk, possibly confess and reconcile

Or it could be a combo of all 3. But it sounds like she’s talking about a specific arc, and while I’d like for it to be Stolitz development, I have a feeling it’s a specific character arc.

What do you think?

Humm ok (again obligatory warning about head injury, so sorry about typos, or not connecting things properly ect).

But kinda think all 3 are getting advanced, but only 1 of them finished by the end of this season.

1)Blitz-overcoming his low self esteem and demons, able to move on.

Well we've definitely had some of that Oops and Blitz getting the unattainable of Fizz forgiving him, and being his best friend again.

And I think we're going to see some of that trauma get explored in Ghostfuckers.

It's also likely that it's going to be the episode with Blitz's hearing he makes everything worse from evil Millie.

But I don't think that's going to be neatly packed away, because Barbie's met to be back in s3.

It also doesn't quite make sense if that's not the main focus of the last two episodes. Mastermind and Sinsmas don't seem to be able that. Though we do appear to have the least clips about those.

But honestly mostly because this show understands trauma is with us for the long haul. We can unpack it, make it lighter to carry, but it's always with us.

2) Stolas- he stands up for himself against the goetia, possibly stripped of his title.

Could be. A big theme is Stolas learning he's allowed to choose, but also setting up one hell of a backlash for stepping out of line.

We've had a theme of people standing up to the powerful.

With Blitz standing up to Ozzie for M&M,

Loona standing up to Bee,

Fizz standing up to Mammon.

Stolas either telling Paimon, or the Goetias council, that he's getting the divorce no matter what they do; could play into that theme.

The tile striping seems fairly likely, but possible down the road. Maybe suspension first?

But again I don't think that's going to be nice wrapped up either. With the trail plot starting in series 3.

Assuming that'll be about the book deal, because chekhov's gun says it's gotta blow up in their faces at somepoint.

Also Stolas coming out in his 30s was always going to be a bit messy.

Can't really see that being fully over in a couple of episodes because this show gets trauma, and missed developmental stages and secondary adolescence take a while to work through.

(Take it for someone who was parentified from an early age, you don't really get to move on till you've dealt with it. Even if it's as small as being silly every now and again. Or just keeping a teddy.)

Pretty sure this is why Stolas has to hug himself to sleep. (Link for people that have no clue what I'm on about here)

3)stolitz- they finally talk, possibly confess and reconcile.

Yer this would be my bet for the one that's getting nicely tied up.

Best guess it'll be them both admitting they love eachother.

Because Blitz has spent the first 2 series pretending as hard as possible that he doesn't like Stolas, and definitely doesn't love him.

(Despite everyone around him, but Stolas, able to tell he's head over heels for his fluffy owl).

I'm not expecting miracles with our sweet dummies though.

That's kinda all I'm expecting to sort.

With them probably not full getting together because of issues they need to work though, the divorce, Stella's abuse and plot to kill Stolas, and Via being against them dating ect.

(She's gotta be called CockblOctavia for a reason after all. Ok had to add the other link to Brandon calling her that, cus too funny).

[bettsfic]

Hi, Betts! Apologies if you‘ve already answered something of the sort before, I tend to forget that tumblr exists for a few months every once in a while, so I‘m not super up to date with all the topics you‘ve previously discussed! But. I‘ve been writing fics for a couple of years now and, after getting medicated for my adhd, I‘ve also established a pretty reliable and enjoyable system to finish the (long) fic projects I start! However, every time I try to work on something original, I usually tap out after 5-10k words. The excitement, the itch, the brainrot, the daydreaming, it‘s all there but I just lose my motivation at a certain point. Part of it is that creating and writing original characters is incredibly challenging. I‘m using to having a solid base when I write fic characters so it makes sense that having to come up with that base all by myself is new and slightly overwhelming, but ok, I already have ideas to deal with that. However, there is also the fact that I *know* my original stories won’t see the light of day for a hot while — not like my fics that I get to share on ao3 — and that kills my ends up killing my motivation more often than not… I think! Some of my friends and mutuals have offered to beta/read my original stories, so that could help, but since I‘m here writing this, I still haven’t found that push to properly work on my original wips. (Also, I feel like my original writing style is just 10x worse than my fic style… but maybe that‘s just the normal new project bad kind of writing?) I was wondering if you have dealt with something similar and whether you have any tips and tricks to convince myself that my original wips are fun and worth the effort too? Love your advice and your fics :3

when you've written fanfic for a long time, there's one creative muscle that can atrophy, and that's building parameters. in fanfic, the most ridiculous, far fetched AU is still grounded in some way by the text it's responding to. you're playing a game that more or less already has rules. but in original fiction, you have to write the rules before you can play the game. a lot of times that means you write an entire book to figure out the book you're trying to write, and then you rewrite the book.

i almost always come to a grinding halt at about 10k of any original project because that's how long it takes me to find the parameters of the inciting incident. and once i have the parameters, i start over. usually there's one or two paragraphs i keep and which end up guiding the rest of the project. sometimes the parameters are never set and i have to set the whole thing down until a solution comes to me, which can take months or years.

as for external validation/motivation, if you can find a couple good cheerleaders who will read chapters as you finish them and who get invested in the story you're writing, i find that can offer a simulacrum of the immediate satisfaction of posting/updating a fic. i had to have cheerleaders through my first two original novels. i can motivate myself now and don't need them anymore, but lacking them does make writing original work a very lonely endeavor. but if you have good cheerleaders, do whatever you can to keep them. buy them little trinkets, send them birthday cards, kiss them on the mouth. because that kind of friendship and dedication can be such a rarity in the grand scheme of things.

and as always, writing is an endurance sport. it can take years to build up the patience, discipline, and drive to write a novel. even if it doesn't feel like it, getting down a bunch of false starts is still progress. like chess, it's good to know your opening moves, and that initial 5-10k of parameter-building goes waaaaay faster when you know you're going to scrap it anyway. all you're looking for in those early words is that one paragraph that turns the ignition. and once you're on the road and headed in a direction, there's no better feeling than seeing your word count go up and getting obsessed with your own world and characters.

[orange-artblog]

It'd be pretty cool (if wishful thinking) if Dreamtale got a "second season" or spin-off after its ending where Dream becomes the bad guy tbh

canon Dreamtale (as far as I'm aware) has an ending where Dream does save Nightmare, but Dream's entire life was one hellish road, so he's likely very, very traumatised by it all... and even with his brother back and probably happy, this could be the number one main reason in-universe why he'd become evil! (a second season would be explained, outside the universe, by the need for money for corporations, and usually shows do this anyway (either a bigger bad or good guy becomes evil) XD)

(although, for as much as I love him, not in a "oh no he's Shattered!" way, just. bad things left him traumatised and he never properly dealt with it way :p)

it could be some slow transformation, where all the hurt slowly hits him over time and he becomes secluded, more easily frightened and turns super overprotective of Nightmare. maybe he even gets less sleep and all because of horrid and vivid nightmares (he does have ptsd n stuff) so he becomes more paranoid and it results in him becoming more violent over time

(I thought the kitten in this Tiktok video described it pretty well actually, just the other way around xd)

and it'd make a great message (i think personally) too... Take care of yourself, make sure you also deal with your own problems and trauma, otherwise you'll end up hurting the people you love. Which is a great message!!

[hexpea]

Epilogue - Buttercup Buttercups are childish and represent new beginnings and general happiness.

The hospital doors slid open and the warm sunlight spilled onto the walkway as you stood holding the car seat by the handle. You impatiently waited, sore as hell, for Naoya to pull the van around to pick you up at the front of the hospital. Eventually, he pulled up in the large vehicle, immediately parking it and hopping out, rushing over to grab the car seat from you and help you inside.

"Alright, let's get him settled in," he said, his gaze hyper-focused on getting the car seat adjusted properly in the very back of the van as you climbed into the seat next to it.

You smiled, carefully adjusting the straps against your son's chest, making sure they were perfectly in place. "You ready for your first car ride, sweetheart?" You cooed softly to the baby, his tiny fingers spreading out as he gave a little, squeaky yawn.

Naoya had climbed back into the driver's seat, glancing back to check on the two of you. "You need any help back there?" He asked, trying to hide the anxiety in his voice. The man had faced terrible cursed spirits, dealt with stressful clan politics...but this was what made him nervous?!

"I've got it," you replied, your voice calm and reassuring. You finished adjusting the straps, using your fingers to check and make sure they were neither too loose nor too tight. "You just focus on getting us home in one piece."

Naoya chuckled nervously, turning the key in the ignition. "Right, driving. I can do that."

As you adjusted the car gently accelerated forward, your son let out a tiny, disgruntled noise, his face scrunching up in protest. "So fussy..." you said softly, brushing a fingertip across his cheek.

Naoya glanced in the rear-view mirror, his brows furrowed. "Is he okay? Does he need something?"

"He's fine, just not a fan of the car seat yet," you reassured him, giving the straps another check.

As Naoya continued down the road, onto the expressway, you leaned back in the seat, keeping a close eye on the baby. He made a few more grumpy noises before finally settling down, his eyes fluttering closed. Like father, like son...

"He sounds like he's peaceful now," Naoya said, glancing up in the mirror again as he heard the sounds of an infant's active sleep.

"Yeah, seems like he has to get used to everything, huh?" You replied softly, your eyes never leaving your son's tiny face. "He's already been through so much in just a few days."

Naoya laughed, a genuine, heartfelt sound compared to the old, snarky and arrogant scoffs that you were used to. "Well, he is a Zenin, isn't he? Tough little guy."

You smiled, feeling a surge of love for your two boys. "Yes, he is," you gently took the infant's hand as he slept, affectionately shaking it slightly between your index and thumb. "And he's got a pretty amazing dad to look up to," you used a baby voice to speak toward your son. You were genuinely proud of the progress he had made, going from a ruthless, arrogant bastard to a more soft and loving man, at least with you.

Naoya's cheeks flushed at your compliment and he quickly cleared his throat to control himself. He gave a modest shrug. "Just doing my best," he gave an awkward laugh. "You know, I was thinking...maybe we should stop for takeout on the way home. Celebrate a little."

You smiled up at him, looking at his amber eyes in the rear-view mirror as they focused on the road in front of him. "Actually, I had somewhere else in mind."

Naoya looked at you with interest, those amber eyes looking at yours directly through the mirror, their sharpness making your heart flutter. His eyebrows raised, "oh yeah? Where's that?"

You reached into the hospital bag where your purse was and pulled out a small piece of paper with an address written on it. "Can you plug this into the GPS?" You asked, handing it over to him.

He reached behind him, his fingers wiggling expectantly as you leaned forward to give the paper to him. His eyes scanned the unknown address before nodding and using one hand to enter it into the GPS. He could at least tell that it was an address in a small neighborhood almost an hour away. "Where is this place? Who are we going to see?"

You took a deep breath, feeling a mixture, feeling a bit nervous from the decision you had made. "It's someone I'd like our son to meet."

Naoya's expression shifted to one of confusion. "Someone to meet? Who?"

You hesitated for a moment, staring down at your son who squirmed in his sleep. "It's...your mother."

Naoya's expression darkened immediately, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. "My mother?" He spat, the warmth in his voice replaced by a familiar coldness. "Why the hell would I want to see that bitch? She abandoned me."

You felt a knot form in your stomach, but you remained calm, determined to push through his initial reaction since he didn't know the truth. "Naoya, there's more to the story than you know. She deserves a chance to meet her grandson."

He let out a bitter laugh, the sound harsh and grating. "A chance? She had her chance when I was a child, and she blew it. She walked out on me."

You knew that it wasn't going to be easy. Naoya's feelings about his mother were deeply rooted and you had to tread carefully. "Naoya, please, just hear me out. Your mother loves you...she visited you while you were in your coma. Your father forced her to leave. He thought that she made you too soft."

He scoffed, the arrogance seeping back into his tone. "Forced? She couldn't handle having a powerful son, that's the truth."

You shook your head, feeling a surge of frustration. "No, Naoya. It really was your father. He made her leave. He made sure she could never see you again."

Naoya's eyes flickered with a mixture of confusion and anger as he glanced at you in the rear-view mirror. "That's bullshit. My father would never do that."

You met his gaze in the mirror, your voice firm but gentle. "He did, Naoya. He thought she coddled you too much and didn't want you to be a 'weak' heir to the clan," you used finger quotes as you spoke. "She wanted to be a part of your life, but she couldn't. She deserves a chance to explain herself, to see her grandson."

He clenched his jaw, the conflict evident on his face. "I don't know if I can forgive her," he muttered, his voice low and strained. "Not after everything."

You leaned forward endearingly. "It's not about forgiveness, Naoya. It's about understanding. For our son's sake, at least hear her out."

He huffed as his expression hardened once more, his palms twisting against the steering wheel. "Fine. But if this is some kind of trick, I won't hesitate to leave. And I won't be kind about it."

You nodded and gave a nervous sigh. "I know. Just give her a chance, please? For me?"

Naoya's grip on the steering wheel tightened again as he turned his attention back to the road. The rest of the drive was filled with tense silence, the only sounds being the soft, squeaky breathing of your sleeping son and the hum of the car engine.

Finally, you arrived at Mizuki's address. Naoya parked the car, his eyes narrowing as he took in the simple surroundings. "This is it?"

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. "Yes, this is it."

Naoya let out a deep breath, his anger barely contained. "Let's get this over with," he muttered, his old self slipping through the cracks of the man he'd become.

You carefully began removing the car seat, grabbing it by the handle as you moved out of the vehicle. The newborn gave little squeaks as he sleepily yawned against the sudden movement. Naoya reluctantly followed you to the front door, his arms tightly crossed as he stood beside you while you rang the doorbell. After a few moments, Mizuki opened the door, her gentle eyes and sweet smile greeting you. Her gaze softened as she looked down at the car seat in your hand.

"Y/N," she greeted, her voice warm and welcoming. She leaned down, peering into the car seat, her eyes lighting up at the sight of her grandson. "Oh, look at him... He's absolutely precious," she cooed softly, reaching out to gently touch his tiny hand. You watched as the corners of her eyes started to glisten. 

Naoya stood rigid beside you, his arms still tightly crossed, his eyes fixed on the ground. He hadn't looked up since she opened the door.

Mizuki's gaze then shifted to her son, and she inhaled sharply. Tears welled up in her eyes as she took a step forward, her hand trembling as she reached out to cup Naoya's cheeks. "Naoya," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. "My sweet boy..."

Naoya flinched at her touch, his eyes squeezing shut as he tightened his jaw. He then opened his eyes and they slowly widened in surprise. He stared at her, the anger and confusion mixing with a flicker of vulnerability. "You...you abandoned me," he muttered with a hint of aggression in his voice. You couldn't believe those were the first words he'd said to his mother after all the years they were separated. You wanted to speak up, to scold him, but you stayed out of it.

Mizuki shook her head, tears spilling down her cheeks. "No, Naoya. I never wanted to leave you. Your father...he forced me to go. He thought that I was a weak influence. I fought so hard to stay, but he wouldn't let me. I never stopped loving you. Never."

Naoya's expression wavered, his resolve crumbling under her words. Hearing it from her own lips made something inside him crack. He took a step back, his jaw clenched, his eyes searching hers for any hint of deceit. "You...didn't want to leave?" He whispered, the pain in his voice evident.

Mizuki nodded, her hands still gently holding his face. "Yes, and I love you more than anything in this world. I visited you when you were sick thanks to Y/N, but I couldn't stay long with your father being around. I'm so sorry, Naoya. I wanted to be there for you." She gently released his face and gave him a gentle smile.

A rare tear slipped down Naoya's cheek, and he quickly wiped it away with an air of embarrassment, his breath hitching. "I...I didn't know," he murmured, his voice barely audible.

Mizuki pulled him into a tight embrace, her own tears soaking into his hakamashita. "I'm here now," she whispered, her voice filled with determination. "And I want to be part of your life, and my grandson's life, if you'll let me."

Naoya hesitated for a moment before slowly wrapping his arms around her, his body stiff as another tear streamed down his cheek, one he couldn't wipe away. His eyes darted to you as if to look for reassurance, you gave a soft smile in return and shrugged. "I...don't know if I can forgive you," he admitted, his voice muffled into her hair. His words didn't make sense considering Mizuki's explanation, but you knew that time would heal those wounds. "But...we can try."

Mizuki nodded, her embrace tightening. "That's all I ask. Just give me a chance." After a few moments, she pulled away and wiped her tears, giving Naoya a watery smile. "Come inside," she said softly, gesturing toward the door, a peace offering.

You smiled, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. Naoya gave you a small nod, his hand reaching for yours as you followed Mizuki inside.

That evening back at the estate, after a tiring day of leaving the hospital and visiting Naoya's mother, you decided to take a much-needed shower. The events of the day had been emotionally draining and the hot water cascading over your tired muscles felt like a balm to your soul.

After your shower, you quickly dressed into something comfortable and stepped into the nursery -- that guest room Naobito had been so protective of now acted as your son's living space. There, you were met with the heartwarming sight of Naoya sitting in the rocking chair with his feet up and crossed on the matching ottoman, feeding your son a bottle. He cradled the baby in his arms, his usually sharp features softened with an expression of pure love and concentration. The sight made your heart swell with affection.

Naoya glanced up as you entered, a rare, gentle smile playing on his lips. "He's eating well," he murmured, his voice low and soothing. "Must have been all that crying in the car on the way home."

You chuckled softly, moving to lean against the crib. "We're all adjusting here."

Naoya nodded, his eyes never leaving your son's face. "I know. It's just...crazy how much he depends on us. Makes me realize how fragile life is."

"And your recent illness didn't teach you that?" You chuckled as he gave you a playful glare in response. You reached out, brushing a stray lock of bleached hair from Naoya's forehead as your eyes remained on his, his gaze softening with the look you were giving him. "You're doing great, you know that?"

He shrugged modestly, grinning up at you with a cocky smile. "Just doing my best," he repeated his words from earlier but this time with a hint of pride.

Once the bottle was empty, you watched as Naoya carefully adjusted him atop his shoulder. He gently patted his back until a soft, satisfied burp escaped his lips. Your son lazily opened his little eyes and blinked up at you, his tiny mouth forming an adorable 'O' shape.

After his feeding, the two of you made your way to the nearby bathroom. You both worked together, gently undressing your son on the bathroom counter and wrapping him in a soft, fluffy towel. The baby made a few protesting noises, his face scrunching up as the cool air hit his skin. Naoya carefully placed him in the little plastic tub. The little one let out a high-pitched wail as he felt the sensation of a warm, damp rag against his skin, his tiny fists flailing in the air. 

"Shh...it's okay," you cooed as you wiped him down to gently clean his delicate skin. 

Naoya looked a bit overwhelmed as he watched behind you, his brow furrowed with concern, the expression almost reminiscent of his usual irritation. "He's really not happy about this," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. 

"Babies usually cry during their first baths," you reassured him. "It's such a new sensation. He'll get used to it." 

Despite your calming words, the baby continued to cry, his little face turning red with effort. Naoya's expression grew more anxious, his hands clumsily trying to help by moving the towel he was wrapped in in an attempt to keep him warm. "What if we're doing it wrong?" He asked, a note of rare panic in his voice. 

You smiled softly, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. "We're doing fine. He's just being a baby."

Eventually, the bath was over, and you lifted your son from the little plastic tub, keeping him wrapped up in that fluffy towel. He continued to fuss as you carried him back to the nursery and placed him on the changing table.

Naoya quickly took over, the two of you taking turns with your duties. He carefully dried the baby and began to put on a new diaper. Just as he was about to fasten it, a tiny stream of pee shot up, hitting him square in the chest."

"Oh for the love of--!" Naoya exclaimed, jumping back in surprise while keeping a careful hand on his son. His expression was one of shock and exasperation.

You burst into laughter, unable to contain yourself. Your cheeks gained a pink hue as you tried to catch your breath. "Welcome to parenthood," you said, still giggling. 

Naoya grumbled, his cheeks also flushing with embarrassment as he began to unbutton his shirt. "This little guy is already testing my patience."

You took over, expertly finishing the diaper change and slipping your son into his cozy pajamas. "There we go, all clean and ready for bed," you said, leaning forward to kiss the baby's forehead. "Now, you go clean up,"  you added to Naoya, giving him a nudge as you picked up the infant. 

He sighed dramatically but couldn't hide his smile. "Fine, fine. But next time you're on diaper duty," he teased, heading back to the bathroom.

As Naoya showered, you rocked your son gently in your arms, humming a lullaby and swaying from him to hip to put him to sleep. His eyes fluttered close and he let out a contented little huff, his little arms twitching in the beginnings of sleep. 

Naoya returned just as you placed the infant in his crib, baby monitor adjusted perfectly so you always had an eye on him. He stood in the doorway, watching you with a soft expression as you laid him down. "You really are amazing," he said quietly. 

You smiled up at him, feeling a deep sense of contentment. "Thanks," you giggled quietly as you walked toward him, giving one last glance at your baby before leaving the room to go to your own. "I think we're doing a pretty good job so far." 

He walked with you toward your bedroom, a small smirk playing on his lips as his pinkie finger laced with yours as your sock-feet padded down the hardwood floors. "Yeah, we are," he agreed with a bit of pride. 

The two of you slid into bed together, the soft glow of the television casting a flickering glow across the room. The evening news played quietly in the background, almost like a soothing white noise that barely registered in your consciousness. Instead, your focus was on the small screen of the baby monitor, where your son laid peacefully asleep. 

You propped yourself up on one elbow, staring at the tiny, serene image on the monitor. "I can't believe we actually have a son," you murmured, a note of awe in your voice. "It feels like just yesterday we were at each other's throats with the news of our engagement."

Naoya laughed, a husky sound that now made your heart flutter instead of shudder. "Yeah, it's crazy how things have changed. I never imagined I'd ever feel something like this. In fact, a year ago the thought itself would've made me want to throw up." His eyes were trained on you instead of the monitor. He reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair away from your face. "But I'm glad we did."

You smiled, leaning into his touch and briefly meeting his gaze. "Me too." Your thoughts drifted to the events of the day and you couldn't help but think of his mother. "It was good seeing your mom today. She's really missed you..."

Naoya's expression softened, a hint of nostalgia in his eyes. "Yeah, it was. She's...different from what I remember," he paused, his gaze drifting to the ceiling as he considered his words. "I guess I never really understood how much she went through, not that I actually cared until now."

You reached out, placing a comforting hand on his arm. "So does this mean you forgive her?"

He huffed, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Of course I forgive her. I just wish I would've connected the dots sooner. All this time, I blamed her for something she couldn't control. And I am my father's son. Hadn't you changed me, I would've probably done the same thing my father did." 

You nodded, understanding the weight of his realization. "It's hard to see the truth when you're in the middle of it. But you're here now and so is she. That's what matters." 

Naoya turned to you again, his amber eyes filled with gratitude. "You know, if it weren't for you, I don't think I would have ever found out the truth. Or even cared to find out." 

You gave a sweet smile in return, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye as you held up the baby monitor. "You've come a long way, Naoya. You're a different person now, and I'm proud of you." 

He smiled and rolled his eyes, glancing down at the monitor at his son. "I'm trying, for our son, and for you." He paused, his gaze lingering on your face. "I never thought I'd say this, but...thank you. For everything. 

You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "If you're thankful, then I'm thankful. We worked together to get here." 

He kissed you back, his touch lingering and filled with promise. As you settled back against the pillows, his arm wrapped around you, you both turned your attention back to the baby monitor. The sight of seeing your sleeping son brought a sense of peace and contentment that words couldn't fully capture. 

Dates: February 21, 2019 - They leave the hospital as parents and Naoya has a chance to finally reconnect with his mother.

[daniel-profeta]

The Knife

You are so fucking tired of the potholes. Lately it’s been raining more and more and now it’s pouring down from the heavens with a vengeance, filling the pesky holes in the road and making it impossible to navigate properly. You could kill someone right now with the amount of rage you feel, but you somehow manage to hold yourself together as you barrel down the street. You make a left turn and head into the woods just outside of what used to be your home.

The city is in shambles. The world is going to heal without you, but it has changed so drastically since the return of the demons. You drive haphazardly through the trees as the truck nearly spins out of control multiple times. The radio plays some poppy 80s songs as you wonder how any stations are still active. So much doesn’t make sense, but none of it matters anymore because you’ve lost the only thing you ever actually cared about. They ruined your life. This planet was already dying, you had known for a long time and had been preparing for years. You had always considered yourself to be more cultured and intelligent than the hicks that used to live out here, but you committed fully to your bunker and prep work. What you hadn’t counted on was the weirdness of it all. The impossibility of how events had actually played out. Now your family was dead, and it was entirely your fault. The trees sway in the wind and the leaves darken the sky above you as lighting flashes become your main source of illumination. Though it was supposed to be midday, you could never take vision for granted any longer. Not after how many illusions you have fallen victim to already. You change the station and park the car. Deep in the woods you contemplate your family’s terrible fate as you pull out a pack of cigarettes. Vaping has not really been an option since the beginning of the end. The radio is now playing some pretentious hipster shit. You roll down a window and let the engine run. Some rain gets in and eats away at the mat on the floor, but you couldn’t care less. Your fingers move to your lips as you take a long slow drag, letting the ashes fall to the floor of the truck. Your mind clears and you look around at the filthy vehicle. You’ve got a large pistol lying on the seat next to you and you reach out to cradle it in your filthy hands. This is what became of you. You built a good stable life for yourself, and you were anything but content with it! The gun fits snugly into your palm, as it had just hours before when you tried to defend yourself. The reason you came out here was to go down in a fight against them, but unfortunately you see nothing but blurry trees as it keeps raining. You could have sworn they retreated into the woods, but now you find you’re questioning your own memory. That’s been happening more and more lately. Lightning flashes again. You breathe in another lungful, wishing the smoke would just choke you and be done with it.

Some idiot on the radio starts to introduce the next song. It’s called Lightning in a Bottle. You are just about to change the station, but the irony of the title stops you. It starts playing, and of course it’s some gimmicky indie folk garbage, but it gets you thinking. Your whole life you’ve been trying to make things work. Trying to control the situation despite bad circumstances or being dealt a shitty hand. Many years ago, before you lost touch with the larger world around you, mom had said something that had stayed with you your whole life. She said you were destined for greatness. She could simply feel it and there was no question about it, you were going to do something incredibly special and important with your life. You were supposed to be someone worth being. But here it feels like you have lost the only people you ever helped. No one has ever benefited from your presence in any meaningful way, and it looks like no one ever would. A single tear falls onto the steering wheel as the song continues in the background. It is followed by a river rivalling the downpour outside. You’ve been holding back for an exceptionally long time, and since your loss you have been unable to grieve. You just had to take it in stride, the same way the uncaring universe has taken everything from you for as long as you can remember. Mom died only 6 years ago. Good thing she passed while she still had faith in her dreams for you. You had taken everything from her, you stole her youth, her financial stability, and you drove her apart from your father. Despite her claims to the contrary, you had always known the truth. You blink rapidly but it does nothing to stop your cries. Your body spasms. The song starts to shift and change.

Buzzzing. A persistent and grating buzzing cuts through the sound of acid rain splattering and sizzling on the roof and hood. You attempt to compose yourself but find it impossible. They finally decided to show up. This is where they will kill you. This is where everything will fall apart for good. Their formless bodies will smother you and their mouths and hands will tear flesh from bone and atom from atom.

The world around you starts to spin, slowly at first but picking up speed. The stupid song on the radio seems to distort and the lyrics get weirdly specific. Then the wind outside calms and the spinning stops as you focus and inhale again. Toss the cigarette out the window. Watch its light go out. Feel the world slow down as you steel yourself for a fight. Hands tighten on your weapon, finger on the trigger. These are your hands. This is your last moment, your final stand. Most people aren’t given notice before they die. You’re one of the lucky few who can pinpoint the exact moment. Your perspective changes so much when you’re facing the unknown. The ultimate change. You realize they aren’t going to get you. You realize you always knew it. You realize you won’t let them have the satisfaction. You realize this is what you wanted anyway. You open the door and step out as the music fades into the background, turning robotic and alien. When will that damn song end? Was the world just an illusion? Why are you still stalling? What are you waiting for?

You look around as an incredible wave of peace washes over you. It’s difficult to believe just how calm you are as you squint at the tree line searching for signs of movement. You see nothing as you raise your hands. A flash of light blinds you and the song is finally gone, replaced by nothing. You fall to the ground, leaves and dirt scattering from your impact. Your ears are ringing. Your eyes open and you realize you are lying on your side. Blood is pouring like thoughts out from you. The gun you dropped is too far to reach now and wave after wave of pain starts to radiate from your head, buzzzing out throughout your entire body. You feel something sharp in the small of your back. Why are you still alive? What is this torture they devised for you? Why didn’t your weapon strike true, the way it had struck your only child when you thought she was one of them. Why did it now fail you and leave you unable to move or think as the world fades in and out with each halting breath you take? The pain in your back has gone numb. Not that it matters… Your bullet wound in your skull is enough to give you more screaming nerves than you had ever encountered in your life. You scream and try to get up, only to move a couple inches and fall to your back, looking up at the sky as the rain pours down. You scream again as the acid rain stabs your eyes and blinds you. Colors mix and change and distort like a watercolor painting as you try to scream again. But this time nothing comes out. You close your eyes. The rain eats through your eyelids and gets in anyway. Not even the tears are keeping the rain out. Your skin burns. This is how you will die, alone and unwanted, unable to even take your own life. Then you reach behind yourself and claw at the numbness in your back, pulling a small knife out. Where the hell did this come from? This blessed rusty knife with a red hilt is the kindest thing you have. You hold it above your heaving chest and plunge it downwards. You feel resistance give way and you feel a mild foreign presence enter your skin. But it doesn’t really hurt as all your pain is falling away. You almost feel like you’re watching yourself as you lift the knife out, slide it to a new point in your chest, and bring it up and down again. Again. Again. Now your hands move to your belly and you try again, but this time your arms are too weak. You have a sense of strange tunnel vision, and you see pale glowing eyes surround you. But you don’t care. You got to yourself before they did. A sudden burst of flame and light strikes down, burns away the eyes, and sets you free.

At least, that’s what you saw at the end. Who knows how real any of it was? You’re floating now. Watching it all play out. Alone. You used to fear dying alone, but now you realize you only ever feared the not knowing. This isn’t so bad. This isn’t so bad. This was never all that bad.

song i wrote based on this story. thx for reading!!

[kerosenedreamer]

WIP WEDNESDAY AGAIN

Tagged by: @unironicallytes

Tagging: Again, no one. Cuz I dunno any writers that weren't already tagged or who would be comfortable being tagged *cries*

So, this one is an older one lol I haven't touched it in a hot minute. It's a little tidbit I started writing for my first Elder Scrolls specific OC, Hajvim-Ror/Whispers-in-Low-Waters/Whisper. They started out as a Skyrim OC (Whisper) and have gone backwards through Oblivion(Whispers) and into Elder Scrolls Online(Hajvim). Each one is a 'reincarnation' and descendant of the one before (I could go into the Saxhleel lore but that's not what this is about now is it-) This tidbit is of the Skyrim iteration of them joining the Dark Brotherhood, from the piece I started writing about their adventures in Skyrim, written from the perspective of everyone's favorite little Jester.

“Wait, wait, I know you! Yes, yes, Cicero never forgets a face.” “You’ve met? She just joined us recently.” “Oh yes yes, Cicero knows them.” He placed an emphasis on the word ‘them’, distinctly remembering the Argonian’s statement from before- he had found it intriguing, never having really met someone who went by ‘they’ and ‘them’ before, so the information had been filed away in a small corner of his mind should he ever encounter the kind stranger again. And what luck he would have to not only meet them again, but for them to be the newest member of this little shoddy ‘family’ of his. Not that he would venture to call any of the members of this sect ‘family’, no no, they had yet to prove themselves worthy of his loyalty. Especially that Astrid woman, the self proclaimed matriarch. A deeply unsettling feeling had taken root in his stomach- he did not like her. No not one bit. The nerve to declare herself ‘mother’ while dear sweet Mother yet lived, in no small part due to his own efforts.  “Helped poor Cicero on the road, they did. Helped him get his wagon fixed so he could bring Mother here safely. Whisper, was it?” The Argonian nodded, the iridescent blue scales covering the tip of their nose catching the dim light of the cavern.   “Ohoho! Remembered on the first try!” The man performed a small sort of jig in excitement, clearly proud of himself. “A suiting name for an assassin, if I do say so myself.” The roll of Astrid’s eyes signaling her lack of amusement with his good humor- a gesture she clearly took no lengths to disguise- was swiftly placed on Cicero’s rapidly growing list of reasons that he did. Not. Like. Her. The Imperial had been within the walls of this sanctuary for just nigh the span of an hour’s time and already his blade itched to be plunged up to the hilt in the woman’s belly- but no, no, she was a Sister. Despite her arrogance and unwavering renouncement of the tenets and the ways of old all together. She was still a Dark Sister. Just because she foolishly cared not for the core set of rules that had formed the very heart of the Brotherhood and kept them alive and thriving for centuries, that did not give him right to break one of their most sacred, lest he invoke the wrath of The Dread Father himself. And if he did that, then who would care for Mother? He was the only Keeper, a long dead position revived specifically for him to take up until the arrival of the long awaited Listener. A position he took great pride in doing splendidly for all these long, long years. Years of waiting, of silence. The lack of direction from their unholy matron had made the remaining members of the Brotherhood complacent, receiving contracts via word of mouth and taking orders from this. This hagraven of a woman. This foul wench who had taken it upon herself to claim Mother’s place in this time of silence. This strumpet. But he would stay his hand.  For now. She would be dealt with in due time, he’d make sure of it. But it would be done properly, traditionally, correctly. Adhering to the tenets and codes that had held this family together for all of these years.  He barely registered that he was being spoken to, brown eyes blinking owlishly as he turned his attention to said speaker.

[anne-is-ominous]

Some Anne-ouncements Following Reignited Book I

In just a few moments, I'll be releasing Home, the final chapter of Phoenix Reignited Book I: Ashes. The end of a book is usually a great time to make some Anne-ouncements, and so, without further ado...

Phoenix Reignited Book II: Embers

There will be no gap between book postings for Reignited; this coming Tuesday you will see chapter one of Phoenix (re)Ignited Book II: Embers. The new book will continue in the existing work on AO3 and all the other platforms, so folks who are subscribed / following / whatever it's called on your platform of choice will continue to get alerts.

Reignited on Royal Road

We're finally ready to announce the release schedule for Royal Road! I've wanted Reignited on Royal Road for some time, but held off due to the unforgiving nature of their Rising Stars algorithm that all but requires posting chapters with a certain cadence I could not meet until I had built up some backlog.

Reignited will launch on Royal Road December 1, 2024, with ten chapters dropping on that day. It will then receive a chapter drop every day for the next thirty days, and as such, on December 31, 2024, Royal Road will "catch up" with the other platforms that have been getting updates all along. Beginning on January 2, 2025, Royal Road's Reignited release schedule will fall back to Tuesday/Thursday/Saturday alongside the other platforms.

Folks wishing to support the story's success on Royal Road can help by reading the new drops on the platform daily as they are released, and leaving advanced reviews. These things dramatically increase the story's ranking in the algorithm, especially in the early going.

A Reignited Reorganization on Wattpad

I had announced that all the platforms would get Reignited as one huge work, rather than breaking it up by book as I did with the original series on AO3 or by series as I did on Wattpad, QuoteV, Royal Road and Scribble Hub.

Unfortunately, I've learned that Wattpad has a 200-chapter maximum for a work, which means a Reignited series through book XIII would actually need three volumes to get through it. Rather than doing a Vol. 1, Vol. 2 which end at arbitrary places in the story when the 200th and 400th chapter is reached, I've decided to go ahead and just do it by series on Wattpad like I did the original. So, there will be a Phoenix Ignited: Reignited Edition, followed by a Phoenix Ascendant: Reignited Edition and Phoenix Odyssey: Reignited Edition. Sorry about the confusion.

Sunsetting Reignited on MediaMiner

I was - and remain - excited whenever I discover a new platform to expose Phoenix to, and when I found MediaMiner (which apparently came and largely went during my hiatus from the world of fandom) I immediately sought to post Phoenix there.

However, as I've now gotten through 24 chapters there, I'm noticing lots of problems. The interface is old and largely broken, leading to a convoluted solution where the only way to properly format even basic things like italics is to make a specially-formatted RTF file. It takes almost four times as long to post a chapter to MediaMiner as to any of the other 11 platforms Reignited is currently on. Additionally, all of the algorithmic things like trending lists are entirely broken; the top trending story on MediaMiner has not been updated since 2009.

These things I could have dealt with, but the dealbreaker for me is interaction notifications. When people comment on a chapter, I get no notification. There's no inbox, no emails, nothing; I have to literally click on every chapter and scroll to the bottom to see if there's comments waiting for me. I find it entirely unacceptable that people could comment on my work and not get an acknowledgement from me, and short of spending a half an hour checking, I have no way whatsoever to know if it's happened.

For this reason, I've decided to suspend posting to MediaMiner after this chapter. I'll add a "25th chapter" essentially explaining this decision and linking to the various and sundry other platforms on which Reignited will continue, and leave Book I on the platform as essentially a glorified trailer for the larger work.

I don't know if anyone is reading on MediaMiner - I have no way whatsoever to tell - and if someone is and this causes you great distress, please tell me. I'd be willing to reconsider if it's actually helping anybody to post there, but right now it seems to be all pain, and no benefit to anyone.

Book XIII progress

As I mentioned Thursday, I'm taking a brief (1-2 week) pause on Book XIII to focus on Reignited Book II and getting some "life stuff" dealt with. I have a bunch of time off from work over the next two weeks and expect to really be able to throw myself into this and make some good progress.

Open Invitation: The Storytellers' Speakeasy

As I've mentioned before, the inestimable @princesscolumbia and I have merged our fan Discord servers to create the Storytellers' Speakeasy, a community for fans and fandoms to converge. I'm shocked and pleased to report that in under two months, we've reached about 90 friends in our little group, including more than fifteen fellow Storytellers who share and collaborate on their own fanworks and original stories with us.

(Haunted Mansion voice) But, there's room for a thousand...

Whether you're a Storyteller in your own right, or just want to hang with us, see previews, beta read, kick it in a supportive community, and maybe - just maybe - hear me humiliate myself and sing Ranko's songs live on stream from time to time, we invite you to join our community.

The Speakeasy is a safe and supportive environment for all people, including and especially LGBTQIA+ folks of all stripes, and a sex-positive space. All NSFW content is separately moderated and hidden behind an opt-in role. We have active fandom discussions for Ranma 1/2, My Little Pony, Star Trek, Pokemon, Sailor Moon and several others, plus channels for gaming, writer support, trans/gender stuff, and more. We'd love to see you around the Speakeasy!

So that's it!

Thank you all so much for your time, attention and support. Reignited has been doing so much better than I could have hoped or dreamed, and it's thanks to each and every one of you.

From the bottom of my heart,

[louisupdates]

The Habit He Can’t Break 3/4

IQ 123 | Gordon Masson | 9.11.2023

We Made It

Making sure that the Faith in the Future tour delivers Tomlinson to his growing legion of fans, PM Sherwood’s first long association with the artist manager, Vines made him the obvious choice when the artist first began his solo career.

“I remember doing a lot of promo dates around the UK and US before we started touring properly,” says Sherwood of his work with Tomlinson. “In fact, one of the first shows I remember doing with Louis was in Madrid when he played in a stadium, and I could see it was a taste of things to come.”

The partnership between Sherwood and Vines is crucial. 

“In terms of the show growing, our biggest challenge is keeping costs down, because we’re extremely cautious on ticket pricing,” says Vines. “We don’t do dynamic pricing, we don’t do platinum ticketing, we don’t do paid VIPs, we don’t increase ticket prices on aisle seats – all those tricks that everyone does that most fans don’t know about: we don’t do any of those.”

“So, when it comes to the production side of things, we need to be incredibly careful. But I’ve been working with Craig for a decade, and he knows the importance of trying to keep costs as low as possible. For instance, we’ll run the show virtually a number of times, so Louis can watch it with the show designer, Tom Taylor, make comments and tweak things. Then we’ll go into pre-production. But we try to do as much in virtual reality as possible before we take it into the physical world.”

Sherwood states, “Basically we started out with two or three trucks, but now we’re up to nine, and things seem to be getting bigger day by day.”

Thankfully, Sherwood has amassed a vastly experienced crew over the years, allowing them to handle even the most unexpected scenarios. “I’ve been touring since the dawn of time, but the core crew I work with now has been together since about 2010, and I trust them implicitly, so I’ll leave it up to them who they hire, as long as they think I’m going to like them, and they all get along with everyone. So far, it has worked well,” Sherwood reports.

And the veteran crew has dealt with some terrifying weather extremes on the current tour, including a show at Red Rocks in Colorado, where the audience were subjected to a freak, storm with golf ball-sized hail stones injuring dozens of people. 

Elsewhere, the crew has had to act quickly when the threat of high winds in Nashville caused problems on that outdoor run. “We didn’t want the video screens blowing about above the heads of the band, so it must have been amusing for the audience to see us taking them down,” Sherwood reports. 

Indoors in Europe, the environment has been more controllable. The production itself involves an A-stage set 180° across the barricades, although Sherwood says that on occasion, a catwalk is also used by the perimeters. 

“It’s a great lighting show and fantastic for audio, as we have phenomenal front-of-house sound engineer – John Delf, from Edge Studios – who makes life very easy for the rest of us,” says Sherwood. He also namechecks Barrie Pitt (monitor engineer), Oli Crump (audio system designer), Tom Taylor (lighting designer), Sam Kenyon (lighting technical director), and Torin Arnold (stage manager), while he praises Solo-Tech for supplying the sound, and Colour Sound Experiment (CSF) for taking charge of lighting, video, and rigging equipment.

Indeed CSE has 10 personnel out with the Faith in the Future tour. “We have eight screens on the road – six on stage plus two IMAGS that we use wherever appropriate, the company’s Haydn Cruikshank tells IQ.

“We need to tweak the rigging on a daily basis, as we move to different venues, but other than that, it’s a fairly smooth process thanks to Craig Sherwood. He is old school and planned and worked on the production very far in advance, which is a great scenario for all involved. Craig is definitely one of our favorite production managers to work with.”

Garry Lewis at bussing contractors Beat The Street is also a fan of PM Sherwood.

“Craig split the European tour into different runs. So, from Hamburg to Zürich, we had two super high decker 12-berth buses for the tour party and two 16-berth double-deckers for the crew,” says Lewis. “After the show in Athens, we still have the two super high-deckers, as Louis knew them – he prefers to spend time on the bus, rather than in hotels – but we also have two 12-berth super high-deckers for the crew, as well as another crew 16-berth double-decker.”

Lewis continues, “We’ve worked with Craig for a good few years, and we have a great relationship with him. He plans everything way in advance, so it means it’s all very straightforward for us with no issues. So, we use single drivers for each bus, except on the longer runs, or when our drivers are scheduled for prolong breaks, and then we’ll fly an extra drivers as needed.”

1/4, 2/4, 4/4

[scarlet--wiccan]

Thoughts on issue #2 of The Scarlet Witch?

I liked it a lot. I think this volume, so far, has much better pacing and momentum than Orlando's previous entries. I did like the episodic structure of the 2023 series, but it started to drag in the back half of the series, and neither of the main villains felt like active, present characters. With SW&Q, I felt, at times, like the characters were rushing around just to have vague conversations, and I walked away feeling like I didn't properly understand what was going on with Wanda's powers.

In the new volume of Scarlet Witch, the entire cast is fully involved in the plot from the start, and it make a huge difference. Everything feels well-balanced and the story is moving at a steady pace. Again, I don't think there's anything wrong with how either of the previous entries were structured, but Orlando-- who I think is particularly bad at endings-- needed more breathing room. This is just a more comfortable rhythm, and it works like a charm.

In terms of the actual story-- I'm really excited about everything that's happening. This issue did a great job tying together a bunch of disparate lore and mythology, which I love. Turning the "land of the dead" from Scarlet Witch & Vision into a special afterlife branch of the Witches' Road was so cool, and it was a perfect way to set the stage for Lore's return.

Speaking of villains-- Moridun fits the setting and was a smart pull, since he's got history with Wanda's family. The possession felt extraneous, since I assume that it will be dealt with very quickly in the next issue, but the visuals were cool, and it might be part of how Billy gets brought into the story by #4. I'm still not sure why Wanda changed into her green costume-- Orlando uses a lot of affected dialogue, and sometimes it makes weird magic stuff like this hard to follow. I'm also excited to see Darcy negotiating with Hexfinder next month!

The Never Queen is an exciting addition, and using her to redefine both nexus beings and universal chaos magic was super smart-- it allows Wanda to have that big, cosmic significance without making her a brutally overpowered or "crazy" reality warper, as other writers have done. I've always hated the idea that Wanda and/or Billy will become, essentially, omnipotent gods, so I really appreciate when writers ground their world-changing powers in a way that feels more specific and well-suited to the characters. Wanda choosing to delay entropy and, one day, avert heat death feels in-character, and it gives the Griever a reasonable motive. I've previously shared a similar idea to ground Billy's Demiurge powers.

I particularly appreciate the decision to include Pietro in the nexus being lore, and I hope that Orlando is able to follow that idea to its logical conclusion, which would, in my mind, mean actually naming him as a nexus being as well. I've always wanted Pietro to get an upgrade that would put him and Wanda on equal ground, and I like that Orlando is doing that by strengthening their bond and restoring their trust in one another. This is more satisfying to me than most of the common fan theories.