#chapter 7 it's raining somewhere else

[irenadel]

And if the devil… 10/10

Aemond Targaryen X Maid!Reader TW: For the aftermath of DV Thank you to @barbieaemond for letting me use her beautiful gifs to make this lovely fic banner. As promised am tagging @prettyduckling22

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9

It is raining heavily when the queen finds you. The lantern she holds aloft barely lets her and her father see you and they dare not come any closer. Her son’s dragon is wide awake, making a dreadful rumbling sound somewhere deep in her gullet. There is a soft, hazy glow all along the beast’s underbelly, like dying embers, like a fire you make the mistake of considering dead.

Alicent feels like her entire body has been turned to lead, soft and infinitely heavy. She hears her father hold his breath and knows, at least, she is not alone in her terror.

He does not leave her. He holds her shoulders steady and Alicent is grateful for that.

“Aemond…”

When Vhagar picks her head from the ground, moves it like Alicent imagines avalanches must move, she is still making that wrathful, rumbling sound. The ground shakes with it. Her legs feel like they will not carry her weight and she wants to weep, like a child, when the dragon opens her mouth to breathe hot and humid and carrion-like upon her.

She wonders if this was the last thing her son saw with both eyes, before that terrible night where it had all begun to go wrong.

“Try again,” her father whispers in her ear. Always try again. Never a moment’s rest.

“Aemond please,” she croaks out, the feeble light of her lantern trembling in the wind. “I’ll be quick.”

The dragon makes another noise and Alicent finds it to be the most awful of all, for she feels it, to the bottom of her belly, a heavy, nauseous weight, a near human moan of pain. When Vhagar cocks her massive head to better look at her, Alicent nearly cries in fear until she sees those eyes. Always they had seemed beady and lizard-like to her, predatory and unknowable, but now they just seem miserably tired.

For a moment she feels ashamed.

I trusted you with him, the ancient, watery eyes of the dragon Vhagar seem to say to her. I trusted you with him and always you have failed me. First the eye and now this…

She breathes the words between near-clenched teeth and it is a wonder to her that the dragon seems to understand as she turns from her and to her father behind her. She advances without him, without even looking back at him, unable to explain the price of going under the great dragon Vhagar’s wings to him.

He would not have paid it anyway. He has never paid it for her.

When she finds you and her son laying against the wall of stinking, warm scales she almost pays it again. She covers her mouth and traps the words behind her fingers. 

I’m sorry, she wants to repeat, but finds she cannot. Not when confronted with her son’s bloodied face years ago, not now that he doesn’t look at her, you in his arms, wrapped in his green cloak, kept warm by dragonfire, dry by one leathery wing held close to the dragon’s body. She barely recognizes you in the gloom under Vhagar’s shadow. Ugly, scrawny thing that you had been. Remarkable only for your strange coloring and the princess’s favor. You had made Helaena happy and thus the queen had tolerated your ill manners. You had been smart and obedient and made yourself scarce when you had become a problem and Alicent had been grateful for the discretion if for nothing else.

Now she feels ill looking at the blood upon your dress. She cannot tell much else with her single lantern’s light and she almost doesn’t dare whisper it: “Is she alive?”

Aemond’s hand stops, halfway through caressing your short, matted hair. There’s dried blood all over one side of your face, your temple and cheek having already swollen black and blue. Your eyes are closed, your hand holding onto the prince’s neck is swollen too, white-knuckled and clenched.

He still does not look at her.

“You can leave now,” he answers and Alicent does not know his voice in that moment. Wants to shake some sense into him as she has done to his brother so many times. A man’s voice, with a petulant boy’s demand.

“She needs a maester, Aemond,” she tries again, not even knowing if it would not just be wiser to let this all die down. Let things take their natural course and help her son mourn, later, once the danger is over.

Aemond is speaking to you, low and gentle, in a soft, kind tone Alicent hasn’t heard from him since he had both eyes. Some of it must be High Valyrian, the rest Alicent cannot recognize. There is a cadence to it, like music. Through it, she hears Vhagar howl again, sees the pebbles on the floor jump with the monstrous vibration of it all and knows she cannot.

Who knows what would be left of her boy if she lets him lose one more thing?

“I’ll bring the maester here,” she capitulates, kneeling down besides the two of you, just to get a better look at you. A fever, she feels when she dares put her hand on your ruined cheek. But you breathe at least. When she gets up to leave, she feels the tug of her son’s hand on her wrist, terrifyingly strong and uncaring, but is glad that he should at least look at her now.

“It was a lost babe,” he says, his voice that of a man, she realizes now, because all emotion is gone from it. Alicent’s heart turns to ice. “A beating and a punch to the gut.”

She had not fled Vhagar when the hoary old thing had turned to her, but she flees her son now. You and her son.

Things have a price, the septons had said sometimes, when she was young and naughty and free. She thinks of Aemma Arryn and her own four living children. She thinks of her daughter, white-faced and grim in spite of the healthy, beautiful babe she had borne. When she ignores her father’s imprecations, when she drags a young and discrete maester to the seaside cliff where Vhagar nests, when together they try to pry you from Prince Aemond’s arms and succeed only in getting him to carry you gently, ever so gently, back to the Red Keep, she thinks of the price of things.

An apology she will never speak to her child but only to his dragon.

A girl’s life. A boy’s soul.

She is done letting her son pay the price and she tells her father as much. He can handle the gossip and the angry lords. It matters little. If he cannot, then perhaps her son’s dragon will.

The prince waits.

He watches a young, redhead maester unstick the clothes off your body and sponge the blood off your skin. Grand Maester Mellos is too important to bother with you.

He listens and seethes. His mother behind him, eyes moist, looking to him though he cannot answer them.

The young maester tells you the blows to the head are the most worrisome. That and your coming cold. He does not use the word babe when he says there should be no lasting damage, it was an early pregnancy. He gives you willow bark tea for the pain and makes you sweat out the rest of your fever. Rest and food should put you to rights, he says to you. He speaks only to you, firm but gentle, not to the prince standing besides your bed, sword-straight and impassive. He is too cautious and well-mannered to let more than pursed-lips betray his anger at whatever royal mistreatment has befallen you. He has no qualms in telling you to call him if you were to have need of moontea, even with the queen and prince balefully looming over him and his patient. Aemond almost likes him.

The queen tries once to suggest moving you out of the prince’s quarters. She does not try again.

The prince waits.

He will allow no servants to tend to you, no one but the queen and maester. When necessary, he will change the linens on his bed himself while you sleep, the way you had taught him to do with his own royal father. It frightens him, how deep your slumber is.

The prince sleeps as close to you as he dares, curled up like a dog at the foot of his own bed. He crawls in it when you are asleep, unwilling to give you the chance to chase him away, soaking up your lingering warmth, too ashamed to ask for it, too desperate to forgo it entirely. He almost thinks he need not bother.

Because the prince waits and still you will not speak.

Your face has gone from black to green to a sickly yellow. You sit in a prince’s bed. You eat the bread he gives you and drink the stew he spoons into your mouth. Sip the warm tea he brings you while you stare at the sheets and say nothing.

Aemond is too miserably aware of how low he is willing to stoop for your voice to attempt speaking to you himself. He has considered it all. Shaking it out of you, with a shout and a curse. Dragging his brother to this room and killing him for you, for himself. Bringing his sister here. Her children. Taking you in his arms again and taking you to Vhagar, flying across the sea, to anywhere that will make you speak again… smile again…

You are slipping from his hands, as far away as you were during those first few days when he would skulk outside closed doors and steal away snippets of your voice, low and husky, singing foreign nonsense to his niece and nephew.

But he is too tired now to summon the outrage he used to feel, at you owning comfort he could not reach.

So the prince waits… until he can wait no more.

“Please,” he says to you, as you sit and stare. “Please…”

You still say nothing. But you do look at him. You reach for his hand and he lets you have it, for as many hours as you need it, even as it grows numb in your grasp. You hold its warmth to your belly, as if the blood of the dragon could thaw the cold residing in there now.

He looks at your glassy eyes, your white-knuckled hand and his own on your belly and he knows what he must do. He should have done it long ago, the first time he had ever seen the blood on your split lip, the bruises on your pale skin. He should have known better than to let himself be distracted by the beauty they revealed to him. He kisses your forehead before he does, trying not to tremble at the brief taste of your skin. He is a man starving, with hunger’s implacable ruthlessness.

When he returns, he drops your cousin’s severed hand upon your lap. The hand that took a prince’s son from him. Prince Aemond One-Eye himself, a bruise of his own on his face, hair wild, eyepatch and dignity forgotten. What he will never forget again is the sound a man makes when Valyrian steel cuts through his flesh and bone.

You do not understand. For a moment you are so stunned and angry it knocks the numbness right out of your lungs. You look at your prince, watch him fall to his knees, lay his head on your lap, besides your flesh and blood, and almost forget to make sense of the words when they come out of him. Westerosi is only your second tongue after all.

“I would have you sing again,” he says with the hoarse rawness of a man who has just discovered all his cruelty to be bravado. “I would have you laugh again.”

And it is awful, to think Aemond would not know that there is no blood that could buy back your soul. Awful but not surprising, that he should not know pain and sorrow could only beget more of themselves. You had known this of him, the first time you had ever seen a sapphire hiding pain. You try not to think of Angus, still a boy, still as much a boy as Prince Aemond himself. You try not to think of what a hand means to a working man and not to a prince. You try not to think of the bridges he has burnt or the ties he has severed for you forever more, when he severed tendon and marrow.

Because if you start thinking of it, you will find yourself fiercely glad that he did.

You will find within your breast a cry of vicious triumph, that sounds to your mind like a Dothraki screamer. Nothing that could ever bring you comfort. Nothing that could ever pay for the death of your dreams, or your hopes, or your love for a boy who had been your boy until he wasn’t.

Nothing that would help.

But still, Aemond had done it for you. Useless, the mother you had barely known had called it in the far reaches of your memory, when men beat their breasts and swear death to you.

Useless perhaps, but he had done it for you.

He lets out a sob when your hand runs through his hair.

“You have no coin,” you say to him and he near cries in relief at the sound of your voice. “To buy back my joy. There is no joy left for me in the world. I have nothing.”

You’ve taken it all from me, you do not say. With black steel and my kinsman’s blood. No hope now, to go back home.

Good.

You think of getting up and not looking back. You think of sailing the poison water and finding your way back to the land of your father, to endless grass and sun-baked earth. You see life unfurling before you, empty and safe. A man maybe. A strong rider who would give you strong children instead of moontea and grief. Small, boring children that do not eat your insides with fangs and claws and fire.

Aemond burrows his face into your lap and crushes your borrowed shift and sheets in his bloodied hands.

You know you cannot. You have no home left but him.

“You’ve nothing I want, Aemond One-Eye. Nothing to pay me with but one thing.”

You see him whip his head off the bed to look at you, the nightmares and dread written clearly on a face too young and beautiful to bear them, warring now with desperate hope. You take this face into your hands, this face you have cherished and cursed, and hold it close to yours, grip tight enough to keep your hands from shaking.

“You,” you breathe and he reaches back for you, hands flying to your neck and gripping you as close as you grip him, choking back a cry of savage joy. “You are the only thing I will ever want again. The only coin I will take. I have nothing but you, nothing. So you will pay me with your life. Swear to me… swear you’ll live forever.”

Easy promise for a king’s son, you think. Easy to think you would go first, of toil or hunger or sorrow. As long as he lived it would be alright.

“I swear,” he answers as he lets you taste the tears off his lips. “Forever.”

I almost cannot grasp I am done with this. It's been consuming my life for the last couple of months. I've been virtually possessed by the idea and I am just glad I was able to surf the wave until I could finish it. Extra chapter and all. I think I've got a couple more Aemond porn one-shots in me that I've started and will probably try to finish. Some Helaemond X Reader and some Aegond X Reader if anyone wants to hear a little bit more of this verse... or at least the shoddy AU I have to conjure to get the pretty Targaryen people to fuck without killing each other. Thank you so much to everyone who commented and left likes. ...not that I will ever admit to obsessively refreshing AO3 and tumblr for likes but yeah... You guys are the best T_T thank you

[redfoxwritesstuff]

For Eternity, Chapter 7

Alastor x Angel!Wife Oc (Isabel) Rated: Adult - this fic contains content inappropriate for minors. Chapter Warnings: blood, talk of murder, talk of stillbirth and maternal death.

@impulsivethoughtsat2am Was darling enough to beta <3 Many thanks, Dearheart.

Join us at VoxTek for a Vox themed Hazbin Discord. And my friend runs a Hazbin Fic Community

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“Let’s go home,” Alastor’s voice came to her, sounding like he was speaking to her from one of his broadcasts. If she didn’t open her eyes, she could pretend she was sitting on her couch, listening to her husband wrap up a broadcast, saying goodnight for now. 

“Alastor?” Slowly, she opened her eyes.

The world that came into focus was dark, with sparks dancing around cut cables. She couldn’t see much beyond the small circle of dim light that she sat in wrapped in Angel Dust’s arms.

“What happened?” She whispered, “Where’s Vox?” 

“Ran off with his tail between his legs,” Alastor wore a soft smile as he held out a red clawed hand for her, offering to help her to her feet. 

“And his screen busted,” Angel Dust added with a snicker. 

“Alastor? Is- is it really you?” Her eyes traced his face, looking for some sign of the man she knew within these strange and haunting features. 

His soft brown hair was gone, though his black tipped crimson bob looked just as prone to falling out of place. No longer did he look at her with warm brown eyes. Now it was a soft pink irises on a backdrop of red where the whites of his eyes should have been. Fire burned in his eyes as he held his hand out to her. 

She watched his eyes flicker over her features, taking her in just as she was with him. Part of her wondered what he was thinking. 

Did he hate what he was seeing? 

Did she hate what she was seeing?

She didn’t think so. He was handsome in a chilling way. Even without his red coat, he was so very red, as if someone had dipped all of his imposing frame in a vat of red dye… or blood. His button-down shirt was as red as his hair and, likewise, accented with black down in a single stripe down his chest.

Though she tried to steady her hand, her fingers trembled as she reached out for his hand. For a moment, she remembered days ago, placing her hand in Vox’s in a moment of trust that spelled her downfall, and she froze. 

“It’s alright, Isa.” his voice was smooth and so right, even when everything else was wrong. “You’re safe now. I’m here now.” 

His palm was wet under her fingertips, and she jerked back at the feeling, looking at her fingers with wide eyes. Red stained her fingers tips, causing her stomach to churn. The black of his palm had hidden the blood that coated the skin.

This was hell. Her Alastor would never take the life of another while they were alive, but now, in death, in the deep darkness of hell, could she blame him? He had killed to save her. 

“It’s okay. Their deaths are not permanent.” Angel Dust rubbed a set of hands down her arms. “They’ll respawn in a bit somewhere and be right as rain.” 

Taking a breath to steal herself, she put her fingers back in his palm, allowing his hand to wrap around hers and pull her to her feet. Was it really killing if death wasn’t permanent? For better or worse, she had thrown herself into the horrors of hell to find him, her Alastor, and she wasn’t sure it would be fair to be scandalized by what he did to save her because of it. 

“Well, aren’t you just as beautiful as the day we wed,” Alastor’s smile grew soft as he pulled her to her feet. 

Isabel tried to look around, but the shadows were unnaturally deep, keeping her from seeing almost anything. “Why is it so dark?”

Sparks lit up pools of liquid, but beyond that, there was nothing she could see. 

Angel Dust rested a hand on her shoulder as he spoke, “Trust me toots, you don’t want to see.” 

“What does that mean?” She whipped her head between the two tall men. It was death. How bad could it be? “What happened?” 

Alastor’s smile widened, sharp yellow teeth on full display. “I simply took care of some riffraff. Reminded the Vees that I’m not to be played with. Nothing more to worry your pretty little head over. Now, shall we leave this place?” 

“What about Angel Dust?” Isabel pulled her hand from Alastor’s, causing his smile to twitch as she turned her attention to the pink man. “Will you be coming with us?” 

“Naw, I gotta stay here,” Angel Dust cut her off before her protests could pick up speed. “If I leave with you, it’ll give Val even more reason to think I was involved. I’ll be home later on.” 

“Home?” 

“We kinda live together in a way.” Angel Dust shrugged. 

“Regrettably.” Alastor rolled his eyes as Isabel looked again between the two men towering over her. 

When she stepped into Ange Dust, wrapping her arms around him tightly, it caught him off guard. His four hands hovered away from her body as he glanced over her head at Alastor, not wanting to face the wrath of the much more powerful man. 

“Thank you,” she spoke softly into the plush fluff of his chest as he struggled to wrap his mind around the fact that, after everything he had done, after he had touched her and exposed her, she wanted to hug him. A pure angel, one of Heaven’s chosen Winners, wanted to wrap him in their arms. “Thank you for bringing me my Alastor.” 

“Sure thing, Birdie.” Angel Dust relaxed after a nod from Alastor, hugging her to him for a moment. “I’m sorry,”

She squeezed him tighter for a moment before letting her arms go slack and stepping back, a warm smile on her face that made Angel Dust wonder if that was the very warmth of Heaven’s Gates, “You were only doing what you had to do. I forgive you.”

“Let’s go, Dearest,” Alastor took her hand in his and tugged her to his side where shadows were coming alive around him. “Close your eyes, hold on to me.” 

The sensation of movement with nothing solid under her feet was nauseating. As soon as her feet touched solid ground, again they were on nothing at all as Alastor pulled them from shadow to shadow, jumping through the city until he finally let them materialize under an archway. The rough sidewalk under her feet lead up to an imposing building. 

“Now, we simply must do something about your attire- not that you don’t look splendid wearing my coat. I’m simply feeling rather underdressed myself.” 

Alastor snapped his fingers with a flourish and a whirlwind of black and green sparks and smoke surround her.

 Simple black ankle boots replaced the slinky white silk stockings and lacy panties she had worn. His coat fluttered around her with the power that wrapped around, birthing a dip hem dress with a sweeping neckline that felt far too fancy for modern times. The thick skirt gathered around her legs in a way that reminded her of the fancier way people had dressed in the past, before casual became the norm. 

It felt good to have her body covered. It felt even better that it was the thicker fabrics she had favored both in life and in death. It’d been longer than she wanted to think about since she had worn something she liked and not the thin airy fabrics that caught Adam’s attention. 

Alastor stepped up to her, unbuttoning his coat and slipping it free from her shoulders. He folded it over his arm, a move that she had seen him do countless times before in life. After wiping the drying blood on his coat, he held his hand out to her again.

“Ma chérie,” He twirled her when she put her hand in his, trying to ignore the flaking feeling of drying blood under her fingers. “Now you’re dressed fit to be seen. Shall we go in?” 

“Alastor?” she looked from him to the large building that looked a lot like a hotel.

“Yes?” 

“Are there, are there people in there?” 

Alastor glanced up at the building that served as his home and domain. “Yes, that is typically how hotels function.”

“Can we talk first? Just us?” Isabel stumbled, not sure what exactly she wanted but knowing they needed to talk, just them, before people.

“Theres a rather modest garden behind the building. Shall we go for a stroll around back?” Alastor offered, unfolding his coat and slipping it onto his shoulders. 

With his coat once again in place, he took her arm and lead her around the large building. The sounds of their heels on the stone pavers with gunfire and explosions in the distance broke the near silence. 

“Charlie brought your gift,” Alastor opened the conversation, knowing well that unless she had made some fundamental growth after death, she would stew in her own anxiety instead of making that first step. “And your message.” 

“Oh,” her heart fluttered, much as it had in another lifetime when they had walked arm in arm through a park and she had realized she had fallen in love with him. 

“You shouldn’t have,” he continued. “I wasn’t worth waiting for. For pining for. You could have begun your afterlife decades ago. You should have moved on from the memory of me, of what we had.” 

“Did you?” she was afraid to ask. “Move on, that is? If you have, if there’s someone else, I understand.”

“There was never another who had even a fleeting hope of holding a candle to you. There was no one after you. There never will be anyone else.” 

“Then why should I have moved on if you didn’t?” 

He laughed, a sound that she had always found sweet. “I had no heavenly hope. You didn’t deserve to be alone for eternity. For me, the loneliness is but a fitting punishment.”

“Why?” there was no way around asking the one question that had plagued her for decades. “Why did you have no hope for heaven? What did you do so wrong that resulted in you being sent here?” 

Alastor was silent for a few moments, leading them to a bench. He directed her to sit. Once she settled on the seat, dress smoothed out under her, he knelt at her feet. Again, she could close her eyes and picture a similar moment they had shared in life. 

His hands, large, dark and clawed, wrapped around her calfs. He massaged the soft skin, running his palm up and over her knees, reveling in the feel of her under his touch. There was nothing sexual about the touch. She knew that even as it had her heart beating in her chest just a little faster. 

After spending decades thinking he would never feel her skin under his hands again, her very presence intoxicated him. Yet that terrified him. He hadn’t even known she was there, and he had almost lost her. 

As soon as he knew how she had gotten to Hell, he needed to find a way to send her back. It wasn’t safe for her in hell. More than that, though, she didn’t deserve to be in hell. She didn’t deserve to be with him. He didn’t deserve to have her spend her eternity at his side. 

But Satan help him, he wanted it. How cruel hell was!

“How did you die? When did you die?” 

“I lived near fifteen years without you by my side. Fifteen long years, until a gunshot to the head put me down like a mangy dog. I’ve been here in the decades sense, making a life for myself.” 

“Alone?” 

“Every night,” He smiled up at her, fingertips caressing her thighs. 

“Why here?” she asked the question he had hoped to distract her from. 

“Do you wish for me to confess to you my sins?” he asked, head hanging in a rare display of shame, not for what he had done but for having to tell her. 

“I just want to understand,” She caressed his head, discovering small, prong like antlers standing between erect tufts of hair she realized were ears. 

“I will tell you,” he sighed deeply, slowly looking up at her again, “after we will have one night together and then we find a way to send you back up there.” 

“I don’t-”

He cut her off. “It’s not safe for you here. You don’t deserve hell. I’ll tell you but you’ll go back where no one can hurt you again just to get to me. Isa, I am here for the sin of murder.”

“Alastor, you-” 

“Let me speak. Perhaps after, you’ll be eager to return to Heaven’s gates and I’ll not have to fear another hurting you.” When she fell silent again, he continued. “My first was my father. After, it was someone once a year or so, not often at all. I’d see someone doing something I felt was unforgivable and served justice myself. It was a minor hobby at best.

And then we lost our child. The doctors, they had been far more worried about trying to save the child as your blood poured out of you. I can still see it, even now, if I close my eyes. Red had always been a lovely color on you, but I had hated the color in that moment. 

Your life slipped away while they didn’t do enough.” 

“Alastor?” Isabel was trembling on the bench, trying to wrap her mind around what her husband was telling her, why he had become a distorted monster in hell instead of a partner for her in heaven. 

He smoothed his hands over her thighs, a soft smile on his face as he took a deep breath. She caressed his head with shaking fingers as she waited, fearing there was more. 

“I killed them in the year after I buried you. Each and every doctor that failed to put enough effort into saving your life fell by my blade. It soothed my heart, knowing that they no longer lived after they had taken my reason for living from me. 

After that- with no one left. Mother was gone, you and our child were gone. There was no reason to hold back. So, I didn’t.”

“How many?” Her lips were numb as she spoke. 

“I was burying my 139th victim when a hunter must have mistaken me for a deer, or maybe he knew exactly what he was doing, what I was doing, putting an end to me and sending me here.” 

Tag List: @preciousbabypeter, @catticora, @alastor-simp, @alastorthirsty, @bafaunfu

[orionsangel86]

Subtext Glorious Subtext! A Dreamling on Netflix analysis in The Sandman - Part 8

Reunited

Love means never having to say you're sorry - but you still should anyway!

8 chapters later we finally made it to the reunion! Phew! After a trip through 6 centuries and a whole emotionally rollercoaster of highs and lows, dramatic fights, flirtations, rain soaked break ups, angst filled abandonments, and everything in between, we reach the modern day once again and reunite with Dream as he stares sadly at the remains of the abandoned White Horse Tavern.

Now the audience knows exactly who he was returning too, and how important it is. What did Hob do when he discovered the White Horse was closing down? Surely he did something? We ask ourselves this as Dream looks down to find red painted arrows on the fence around the White Horse, directing him to a new inn literally called The New Inn.

Unsure what he will find, we follow Dream as he finds the New Inn and enters. @mimisempai did an excellent meta post of Dream's thought process during this reunion scene here which I adore (I admit I have used a lot of their gifs for this series so please give their stuff a reblog and give them a follow - gifmakers are the lifeblood of fandom and I wish I had the talent to do what they do).

I love how after all of the tension and clear discomfort he felt after leaving his sister, as he walked through the streets of London under the judging eyes of all those mortals who considered him "other", he finally finds somewhere he belongs. The tiny pause as he spots Hob sitting in the corner, and relief that passes across his face at that moment. He reorientates himself, and approaches.

Hob Gadling sits to one side, apparantly grading some papers, indicating that in this century he is a teacher of some kind. Without even looking up he pauses, aware of Dream's presence before even seeing him, even after all these years. He looks up slowly and his face lights up. It's glorious. Its so dramatic. It's such a relief to see.

After 133 years, there is no doubt, no questioning, no hurt shown, just immediate joy at seeing Dream again, and just a touch of that cheeky flirtation that we have come to associate with Hob. His first words: "You're late."

The way Dream smiles in this scene is unlike anything else we've seen from him so far the whole season. In a complete 180 from how he was acting at the start of this episode, and in a dramatic turn from even how he reacted to the other humans who looked his way on his return to Hob, Dream is open here, relaxed, at peace, content. All things we have NEVER seen from him before.

In the comic scene in 1989, as I previously showed in Chapter 7, the reunion between Hob and Dream went as follows:

Hob is nervous here, but in the show, in 2022, Hob has already had to deal with being stood up, and instead upon reuniting with Dream he keeps it light and playful, indicating to us that all is already forgiven - Hob's love for Dream shines through regardless of apologies and explanations. He doesn't need them, he's just happy Dream returned to him. Now unlike the comic, Dream apologises here anyway. This is particularly significant because Dream at this point in the comics is still rather resistant to apologies. It's another indication of how quickly the show is changing Dream. Where Hob clearly doesn't need the apology, Dream still gives it.

After Dream sits down he reclines back in the chair, relaxing. His body language significantly different from every other meeting we have seen, where he always sat rigidly and uncomfortably - always at odds with his surroundings, never quite fitting in. This time it's different. In accepting Hob's friendship, he has found a place on Earth where he belongs, where he can find comfort and acceptance regardless of how "other" he may be. This is something that the comics do not show, ever. But it's clearly important for the show.

I love the above gif because it gives such a clear indication of how happy they are to see each other again, the way they hold eye contact with each other and the scene ends with that gorgeous smile of Dreams. The smile that replaced this moment in the comics:

That significantly changes certain foreshadowing in the text, which I wrote about separately in this meta. I won't go too deeply into those changes again here, but basically I believe that this change means Dream has chosen life (symbolised by his return to the friend that refuses to die) rather than death (symbolised by his going back to the birds to listen to the sound of wings and therefore longing to hear them in death) - It's potentially changing the trajectory of the story leading eventually to the events of the Kindly Ones, but we are in early days and I don't want to speculate too much on events the show won't be tackling for a long time yet.

What makes this reunion scene so compelling beyond anything I've mentioned above, is how it is a beginning. The audience does not get to see what happens next, but oh do we want to. This is a classic fanfiction gap in the making. After everything we have just been through, after all the highs and lows of their developing relationship over 6 centuries, finally they are reunited and ready to take their relationship to the next level, its compelling stuff. Added to this the conversation that Dream has with Death earlier on in the episode, we can assume that Hob finally gets that all important name, and an explanation of what Dream is after all these years. It makes sense that he would get this in the show based on the various clues and information given to us so far even though he never does in the comic.

So then we have to consider what this reunion scene is saying in the subtext that isn't immediately obvious in the text. Many shippers would have already picked up on these things without really paying too much attention, because fandoms always tend to be more savvy and able to pick up on what the subtext is telling them than a general audience.

Firstly, the red arrows - whilst it is never textually confirmed that Hob painted those arrows, it is heavily implied in the text. Who else would add directions to a new inn to the fence outside a pub that was closed 30 years ago? Who else would possibly be looking for the White Horse in 2022 and even need directions? Only Dream. So Hob MUST have painted those arrows. This then further implies that Hob had something to do with the New Inn. Once again the audience is asked to fill in the gaps here. Even the name The New Inn has implications behind it, because of how obvious it is. There is a clear message laid out here in the few shots we get - the red arrows directing from the White Horse to the New Inn, the name being the New Inn, everything here screams of Hob, forever waiting, forever hopeful, the eternal optimist, spending 30 years working out a way to send a message to his stranger, to please find him again.

This Hob is someone who saw his only connection to his strange companion lost to him, but who was determined not to lose hope. This Hob cared so much that it's implied that he has spent 33 years painting and repainting grafitti on an old fence, ensuring that he will be found again. This Hob found a new pub, or he found a good site to build a new pub, or he invested in a new pub, but either way, it is strongly implied that he has involvement in the new pub, since such a name as The New Inn is also a direction in itself. This is a Hob who waited in the new pub for 33 years. He is seen to be marking papers of some kind, indicating that he has students, that he is a teacher, and yet he is doing his work in the pub which is not all that common. It raises the question of how much time he spends in this pub? We don't know the date that Dream shows up to reunite with Hob - other than it being set in summer - so how often does Hob spend his days waiting here? Even if he does own the New Inn, and sticks around to keep an eye on it and manage things, he is still doing his other job from the table in the corner. The most obvious interpretation is that Hob has spent the better part of 33 years sitting in this new inn, hoping that Dream would find him again. Was he prepared to wait a whole century?

This is an insane level of devotion from Hob. This is the biggest deviation from the comic by FAR. The show moved the timeline and in doing so, they have drastically shifted the nature of Dream and Hob's relationship simply because no normal person would surely care that much about someone they only meet once a century, especially when that person got mad and deserted them when they dared to call them a friend. The only way such devotion can really be explained is by assuming that the devoted person is harbouring some pretty intense feelings for the one they are devoted too. It reads as pretty damn romantic in my opinion. The only time I have seen similar devotion is... well, in Destiel. (sorry to keep bringing it up but i WAS a Destiel meta writer for years and I keep finding comparisons which are driving me a bit mad).

It's difficult, in my opinion, not to read Hob's devotion to Dream by the modern era as more than platonic. It's easy to argue that he is pining for Dream, that he desires him in more than one way. It's easy to read it as love. Possibly even as romantic love. Whilst Dream's feelings are less clear, we can see from his body language and general comfort upon reuniting with Hob that he finds himself in a place he can relax. That the show chose Dream's reunion with Hob to be the ending of the show version of the Preludes and Nocturns Sandman book instead of his implied longing for death, just screams to me that this particular relationship is going to be more important in the show version of the story going forward. Dream is more comfortable in this moment with Hob than he ever is at any other point throughout the show - even in his own realm in his own throne room (seriously I went back and watched it all again, the boy never relaxes outside of this one particular scene).

But if that hasn't yet convinced you that the creators of the show are trying to tell us something about Dream and Hob, we only need to keep watching to get to the final scene of this episode. Before we have even cut away from Dreams smiling face as he stares lovingly at Hob, we hear the beats of a new song begin to play. Desire by Bob Moses introduces us to Dreams sibling of the same name.

We cut to the Threshold of Desire, where Desire themself stands in their gallery and says "attend sweet sibling. It is I, Desire. I stand in my gallery and hold your sigil..."

and who else initially throught they were talking to Dream? Because I think it's intentionally meant to be vague here. Despair uses she/her pronouns, so wouldn't it be clearer for Desire to call her their sister? But the gender neutral term adds to the confusion. Is Desire calling on Dream? Is Desire involved in Dreams reunion with Hob? Does Dream feel desire for Hob and that is why Desire is getting involved? (literally all these thoughts went through my head when I first watched the show and raised my eyebrows thinking maybe they really were going that way with Dream and Hob before finally Desire clarifies by referring to Dream as their brother who escaped his cage. It was a jarring moment.)

In the comic, this scene with Desire and Despair takes place at the very start of the Doll's House book, following Tales in the Sand. It makes sense to add moments like this to the end of each episode to leave a cliffhanger and encourage the audience to keep watching, but this particular cut to Desire has multiple implications. Yes its good to introduce Desire properly and therefore introduce the next arc of the season, but its also SO obvious to cut to Desire right after Dream and Hob's reunion. It's textbook subtext. Queer Coding 101. It's storytelling via clever editing. Six centuries of meetings, six centuries of building a tentative friendship that has included some pretty heated moments and finally upon the modern day reunion we see our main character truly smile whilst relaxed and happy and comfortable for the first time and THEN we cut to Desire. It's perfect. Chef's kiss.

Whilst we don't see Hob again for the rest of the season, the fact is that their reunion was left tantalisingly open ended for fans and audiences to speculate, imagine, and explore via their own works. The creators basically left fans with a delicious writing prompt to sink their teeth into and I 100% believe that was intentional. We will see Hob and Dream meet again in future episodes, and after seeing how well they adapted Men of Good Fortune, I am practically foaming at the bit to find out how they plan to adapt the dream meeting in Season of Mists.

As a conclusion to this behemouth of a meta analysis, I can only repeat what I said back in my introduction - the Men of Good Fortune sequence of episode 6 is a subtextual masterpiece of queer coding. It is writer acknowledged that they intended for it to come across as romantic and tropey. They full expected fans to ship the characters. Whether this means anything in terms of where the show will take Dream and Hob's relationship remains to be seen. The show is already extremely queer, and we've all seen the hilarious homophobic reviews bemoaning the fact that "all the characters are gay! ALL OF THEM!" so at this point I think the creators should just lean fully into it and bring Morpheus himself out of the closet. After all, he's a non human multi-billion year old personification of a concept, why on earth would he only have a preference for human shaped females? How incredibly boring for a creature of dreams!

I've separately talked about how Hob is technically already canonically queer (depending on how you interpret Jim's gender) so it's hardly a stretch for him either. There isn't really anything holding them back. The way their relationship develops in the comics already supports a romantic interpretation, especially the ending. But look, I'm not one of these people that needs to scream about ships "going canon" and I am fully against any harrassment or angry messages being sent to Neil or the creators because people feel that it SHOULD be canon based on the subtext already provided. I have no idea what they are planning with Dream and Hob in future episodes of the show, but wherever they take them, I am fully on board this ship.

Thank you for reading! If you have questions or comments please interact, I thrive on interactions! My ask box is open and I will try to answer any questions within the space of a few days (unless its a meaty meta ask in which case I will take my time and throw my whole meta brain into it).

Link to Dreamling Meta Masterpost and other chapters

[thechaoticfanartist]

WHAT'S A STAR? | MASTERLIST

(divider by @sister-lucifer headers & cover by me)

RUINS

Chapter 1: Once Upon A Time, In A Galaxy Far, Far Away

Chapter 2: The Ruins

Chapter 3: Home and Heartache

SNOWDIN

Chapter 4: Don't You Know How To Greet A New Pal?

Chapter 5: Nyeh Heh Heh!

Chapter 6: Hangout Start!

WATERFALL

Chapter 7: Rushing Waterfalls

Chapter 8: Quiet Waters

Chapter 9: Battle Of The Heroes

Chapter 10: Reluctant Friendship

HOTLAND/CORE

Chapter 11: Take One

Chapter 12: Drama, Romance, Bloodshed!

Chapter 13: It's Raining Somewhere Else

Chapter 14: Upper Levels

Chapter 15: Lights, Camera, Action!

NEW HOME

Chapter 16: The Tale Of The Underground

Chapter 17: Judgment

Chapter 18: The Monster King

Chapter 19: What's A Flower?

Chapter 20: An Ending?

THE END

Chapter 21: Dating Start!

Chapter 22: Where Worlds Collide

Chapter 23: A Reunion

Chapter 24: Supernova

Chapter 25: Are You A Star?

[yourenotdonefighting]

First Sentence Game

Rules: share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written less than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway.

1. Steve’s boots crunched on rock and fresh, powdery snow as he stepped toward the edge of Vormir’s cliffs, feeling the Red Skull’s heavy presence at his back. He peered over the side, swallowing back bile and feeling grateful that the bottom of the seemingly endless chasm was too far down and obscured from view. The evidence of what lay at the bottom was all around him.

Playing For Keeps (Romanogers, 25K words, 12/13 chapters complete.)

2. Tim is lonely. He’s lonely in a way that is visceral. In a way that makes his chest seize with it out of nowhere at the most random of times. It’s not that he’s alone. He’s used to that, has spent most of his life that way.

Never Before, and Ever Since (Chenford, 3K words)

3. Rain poured down in sheets, a battering curtain that blurred everything into a gray haze. Steve stood in the middle of it all, his clothes soaked through, forcing sharp, ragged breaths from his lungs. The world around him was silent, as if it was waiting for something to happen. And maybe it was. Maybe the universe knew what was coming, even if Steve didn’t. He wiped a hand across his face, trying to clear his vision, but it didn’t help. Everything was a blur — everything except her.

don't wanna know who we are without each other (Romanogers, 1K words)

4. Lucy knows Tim like the back of her hand. She knows how he likes his coffee (black, unless she has that pumpkin spice oat milk creamer that he adamantly pretends to hate but actually secretly loves.) She knows which shoe he puts on first and exactly how he sorts his paperwork and can tell what his mood is just by pulling up his most recent playlist. Lucy knows far more about Tim than she knows about anyone else, something that happens completely by accident when you spend 12 hours a day with someone for the better part of two years.

You Look Like You Love Me (Chenford, 2.3K words)

5. Tim is 15 minutes into his afternoon backyard play session with Kojo, picking up the slobber-covered tennis ball and tossing it toward the fence, when he gets the call. He hears his phone vibrate somewhere behind him and finds it on the patio table under the zip up hoodie he’d been wearing earlier. The screen is lit up with two missed calls and a slew of texts from Angela, and the hair on his arms stands on end. She never calls him on his day off unless something's wrong.

Between the Heavens and the Embers (Chenford, 4.4K words)

6. Lucy is reeling as the elevator stops on the garage parking level with a ding, the doors sliding open. Tim turns back to look at her one last time. “Good night.” His voice is soft, his smile tight. This is not what she expected when she stepped into that elevator with him, though maybe she should have. Of course she should have. She’s already laid into him once for making light of things, and though they’d joked in the shop earlier that day — the first time in weeks that it felt like maybe, eventually, they would be ok — she knows Tim is taking her seriously. He may not be ready to really talk, but she knows he will be. She just has to be patient.

Could You Hold Me Without Any Talking? (Chenford, 1.9K words)

7. “What do you know about love languages?” Tim doesn’t know what compels him to ask the question, to Thorsen of all people, and when he sees the look on his go-fer’s face he immediately regrets opening his big mouth. Aaron eyes Tim suspiciously, like he’s trying to figure out if there’s a trick hidden somewhere in the seemingly innocent question. “Is this some kind of weird Tim Test?”

Birds of a Feather (Chenford, 3.7K words)

8. The golden-hour sun washes over Tim as he makes his way between the rows of gravestones, stopping at the granite marker with Jackson's name carved into the front. Fresh yellow and white daisies are propped against the headstone, and he knows by the loopy scrawl on the small card that they’re from Lucy. He crouches down and brushes his fingers over her handwriting, his heart clenching in his chest.

I still love you, I promise (Chenford, 3.9K words)

9. Fresh coffee and a view of Steve Rogers’ perfectly sculpted ass were hardly the worst things Natasha had ever been subjected to first thing in the morning. In fact, they might have fallen pretty close to the top of her ‘Best Things to Happen, Ever’ list. Which, in truth, started as a short list that had been quickly filled with Steve-related moments over the last several months.

All Caught Up In the Rush (Romanogers, 1.8K words)

10. Relief flooded Steve’s chest when he heard the keypad lock on the front door beep. He’d lost Sam and Natasha on comms nearly 30 minutes earlier but was forced to stay put at the safe house, per mission protocol. He was up and out of his chair, barely giving them time to finish punching in the code, before he had the door open. The brief moment of relief was swiftly replaced with confusion and fear at the sight in front of him.

Pull me apart, I'll put you back together (Romanogers, 5K words)

Tagging some of my favorite writers. @whitedahlia13, @zadien @chenfordspiral, @romantashas, @roguetwelve, @thesassywitchofthenortheast, @stxrdust-widow, @makeitastrength , @queseraone

[whump-me]

Unseen: Chapter 7

Chapter 7 of Unseen, a novel-length whump story about a ruthless mob heiress and the superpowered assassin she kidnaps and forces to work for her—and the unexpected friendship that develops between them.

Masterpost | the Mind Games universe | Read the complete novel on Patreon

---

Sitting behind her father’s desk, Yvette felt five years old again. That was how old she had been when she had first sat in this chair. She had barely been able to peer over the top of the thick mahogany desk. She had picked up a stack of papers and frowned intently at them, muttering under her breath. Pretending to be her father, hard at work.

Her father had given her one of his rare indulgent smiles. Back then, she had thought he was proud to see his daughter follow in his footsteps. It wasn’t until years later that she realized he had been amused. He had thought her playacting was cute.

Now, as a grown adult, she still felt like she was playacting. The varnish of the wooden chair was worn away in the pattern of her father’s legs, not hers.

The papers in front of her were covered with scribbled notes in her own handwriting, and she had all but memorized the columns of numbers on each of them. That didn’t matter. In her mind, she was a five-year-old playing at doing her father’s work without truly understanding it. Maybe she always would be.

She wondered if the man sitting across from her saw her the same way.

She had known Stefan Kurti for as long as she could remember, although she had never exchanged a word with him beyond him telling her what he’d like to drink. His appearance was deceptively unassuming. His suit was plain, a dull gray-and-white that didn’t betray how much money had gone into each stitch. His hair was thin on top—he didn’t bother with a combover anymore. His eyes were too small for the rest of his face. On first glance, it would have been easy to miss the sharpness there.

It was a good thing Yvette had gotten much more than a single glance at him over the years.

He was one of her father’s long-time business partners, and one of the most reliable. Like many of her father’s contacts, he worked in imports. What he imported was weapons. He sold most of his stock to her father, who passed it on to his stable of happy customers—at a hefty markup, of course.

Not enough of a markup, in Yvette’s opinion. She thought the market could handle more. It wasn’t as if Kurti’s brand of exotica was easy to find. But that was an issue for another day. If she didn’t secure the stock, the details of pricing wouldn’t matter.

Kurti leaned forward in his chair, shifting his considerable bulk. His canny eyes held a gleam that made her feel slimy all over. She was reminded of the rumors of his other imports—the ones that went solely to feed his own unpleasant tastes. But her father had always found it more profitable to ignore those rumors. Yvette could do the same.

She took a long breath in. The office smelled like her father. Unexpected tears prickled at the corners of her eyes.

She should have held the meeting somewhere else.

No. He needed to see her behind her father’s desk. He needed that image of her authority. She swallowed the tears down and fixed him with a cold smile.

Her father had always waited for the other person to speak first. He would make them endure silence for as long as it took them to lose that game of chicken. Yvette had picked up that trick early on. This was the first chance she’d had to use it.

It worked. “Reynold didn’t tell me why you wanted to meet,” he said. “He only said you wanted to meet with me personally. I admit, I’m intrigued.” He licked his fat lips. They looked like two rain-swollen worms crawling across his face.

From his position next to the door, Reynold cleared his throat. “This is a business meeting,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “I expect you to be professional.”

That was just what she needed—for her father’s business contacts to think she needed her father’s assistant to protect her. “Leave us,” she said, in a tone she had learned from her father. “I can handle him.”

“Are you sure?” Reynold asked.

No. The thought of that door closing, with Reynold on the other side of it, made her want to flee out the window.

She gave him a curt nod. “As you said, this is a business meeting. The details of my father’s business have never been your concern.”

The worry on his face nearly undid her. It would have been easier if he had looked hurt. He returned her nod and slipped wordlessly out the door.

It clicked softly shut behind him. She wished she were on the other side.

“Alone together.” Kurti licked his wormy lips again.

Yvette fixed him with her coldest stare as she drew herself up to her full seated height. “I sent my people to renew our usual deal yesterday, after your regular shipment came in,” she said. “Imagine my surprise when I heard you had already sold your entire stock to someone else.”

His lips parted. His eyebrows arched up into upside down V’s. It looked like that hadn’t been what he had expected to hear. And not just because he had been hoping for a proposition.

That was bad news.

“I sold the stock to the Couvillion Syndicate,” he said, confirming her suspicions. “It looks like you have an internal problem.”

“To whom in my syndicate?” Yvette asked.

“Who else? Representatives of Nathan Stanbury. I’m told he runs things now.”

A small smile played at the corners of his lips. Those canny eyes watched her.

So his surprise wasn’t entirely genuine after all. He knew very well what was going on here.

“You were told wrong,” she said. “I had a message sent to you explaining the new hierarchy last week, before your shipment ever came in. You should have waited for the people I personally sent.”

“I thought perhaps there had been a change in power since your message,” he said. “It’s not unusual, after someone of your father’s stature dies, for power to change hands several times.”

“Then you should have contacted me before making the sale. Unless you were already aware you were going behind my back.” She met those beady eyes of his, and didn’t look away.

He shrugged without guilt. “I’m not in this business to help widows and orphans. I make the deals that are most advantageous to me. Stanbury offered a better deal.”

“You must have known I would find out.”

“Does it matter?” He displayed his smile in full view now. “We both know that in a fight for leadership between you and Stanbury, he’ll come out ahead. He has decades of experience. The sympathy vote won’t count for much.”

She clenched her teeth. That was the only outer show of temper she allowed herself. “Tell him you won’t be working with him in the future, and I’ll be willing to overlook this.”

He shook his head. “His terms were too good for that. Better than anything your father ever offered.”

“What did he give you?”

He named a price. Yvette’s jaw clenched hard enough to send a spike of pain up the side of her face. She knew what was in those shipments. When Reynold had called her downstairs with his message, they had gone over the sheet together, looking at every last piece of inventory.

Stanbury had overpaid. It wasn’t a good business decision… unless his objective was not to maximize profits, but to close Yvette out of her own syndicate.

Yvette ran through the numbers in her hand. If she raised prices by ten percent more than she had already planned… no, it would have to be twenty. That was a risk. Customers wouldn’t be happy. Some would look elsewhere, even if they had to make do with inferior products.

But if she lost Kurti’s weapons, she would lose a full twenty percent of the syndicate’s income source, at least until she found an alternate supplier. Worse, Stanbury would gain that twenty percent.

Only eighty percent to go.

It took effort for her to unclench her jaw enough to speak. “I’m willing to beat that for your next shipment.” She named a price that would have her father’s accountants pulling out their hair and moaning into the strong drinks they would pour especially for the occasion.

Kurti shook his head. “I’m sorry. I already promised Stanbury a long and fruitful business partnership. I’d hate to go back on my word.”

“In other words,” Yvette said, “this isn’t about the money. You think you know the way the wind is blowing, and you want to be on the right side.”

“I’m glad we understand each other.” His smile broadened. His wormy lips seemed to wriggle on his fleshy face. “Now, unless there was anything else?…” He eyed her hopefully.

Yvette stood. “I have another meeting, I’m afraid.”

“Later, then.” He reached across the desk and grabbed her hand with surprising alacrity. He made as if to raise it to his lips.

She twisted her fingers in his grip until she had hold of his pinky. She bent it backward until his face went white and a startled moan of pain escaped his lips.

She let go. “When you reconsider,” she said, “contact Reynold to make an appointment. My schedule is rather full at the moment, but I’ll make time for you.”

When he was gone, she sank into her father’s chair. She felt even smaller now—four years old, three, a squalling infant. A spasmodic tremor ran through her.

She took a deep breath. She straightened her back, and stared at her hands until the trembling stopped. Then she called Reynold on the intercom. She was sure he was still here.

He came to her with embarrassing speed. He must have been waiting just down the hall.

Had he been so certain she would need his help? Had he been so sure that she would fail?

Reynold didn’t ask her how it had gone. She was sure one look at her face was enough to answer that question.

His eyes shone with the warm sympathy that had filled the empty spaces in her heart when she was a child. Now it set her teeth on edge.

She gave him the same look she had given Kurti. But she could only keep it up for a second. Then she looked down at the desk—her father’s desk. Not hers. Never hers. Her shoulders sagged. Her breath caught.

“I’m sorry, Yvette,” Reynold said.

His soft voice made her jaw tighten again. “It’s not over,” she reminded him. “Do you think my father never had trouble with any of his suppliers? You know better. You were there with him through all of it.”

“My offer is still open. I can help you walk away from all this.”

“What I need you to do,” Yvette said, “is look into my father’s other suppliers. Make sure Stanbury hasn’t gotten to them.”

Reynold was silent for a second too long.

“You already did, didn’t you?” Yvette asked. “They already are.”

“I’m sorry,” Reynold said again. There was something offensively final in his tone. Like he thought the battle was already lost.

“I sent them all messages after my father’s death,” she said. “I made sure they understood who they would be dealing with from now on.”

“I know,” Reynold reminded her. “I proofread them all for you.”

“You said they were masterfully done.”

“They were,” Reynold said. “Stanbury must be willing to operate at a loss in order to unseat you. It’s a risky strategy.”

“Not if the money is only an excuse on both sides, and they’ll all go back to the original deals they had with my father soon enough,” Yvette said. “Stanbury thinks I don’t have a chance. If that’s how they all think…” She shook her head. “It will be a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

“Haven’t you ever wanted to get away from all this?” Reynold asked, with a surprising amount of wistfulness in his voice. “Now’s your chance.”

Yvette looked up at him sharply. “It sounds like you’re speaking from experience.”

“Whether I wish your father had chosen a quieter line of work is immaterial,” Reynold said. “Your father loved what he did, and I…”

Yvette didn’t make him finish the sentence. “And I plan to follow in his footsteps,” she said. “But you don’t have to. You can walk away at any time.”

Reynold shook his head. He tried to hide the sadness in his eyes, but she knew him too well.

“I promised your father I would take care of you,” he said. “When you were young, that meant looking out for you when he was too busy. My responsibilities have changed, but my promise hasn’t.”

“If you don’t want to stay, you shouldn’t stay,” said Yvette. “Find a nice beach somewhere. Enjoy a well-deserved retirement.”

“My responsibilities didn’t end with your father’s death,” Reynold said. It was impossible to say whether his sadness was only at the mention of Yvette’s father, or more than that. “One could say they’re just beginning.”

“I don’t need someone to look after me.” Did no one believe she was capable of taking over her father’s empire? She had thought Reynold, at least, was on her side.

But being on her side and having respect for her weren’t necessarily the same thing.

“You’ll have me for as long as you need me,” Reynold said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Yvette did not point out his unspoken assumption there—that she would always need him. But her lips thinned, and she went quiet.

After a few minutes, he seemed to get the hint. With a nod, he left the room.

Yvette slipped out the door after him. What she had told Kurti hadn’t entirely been a lie—she did have someone else she needed to meet with.

When she reached the fourth floor, Violet was still sitting on the couch. Yvette might have thought she hadn’t moved at all, except that a box of fresh-baked cookies now sat beside her. She had chosen chocolate chip. The cookies were half gone, and chocolatey crumbs littered Violet’s silk shirt. Violet didn’t seem to notice. Her eyes were glued to the flickering screen. Bugs Bunny.

Yvette cleared her throat. Violet jumped. The cookie in her hand flew into the air and landed facedown on the floor.

Violet started to stand up. Yvette shook her head and sank onto the other end of the couch. Violet didn’t complete her motion, but her entire body tensed, like Yvette had caught her in the middle of another escape attempt.

“You like Bugs Bunny?” Yvette asked, nodding toward the screen.

“They’re like drawings,” said Yvette. “But they act like people.” She gave a shy giggle. “It’s funny.”

“And chocolate chip?” Yvette asked.

Violet frowned. She tilted her head in a silent question.

Yvette pointed at the cookies. “Chocolate chip. That’s what the bits of chocolate are called.”

“Chocolate chip,” Violet repeated, with the seriousness of someone repeating a new vocabulary word in a foreign language. “They taste like candy. I had candy once. When I was a child.”

Sympathy swelled Yvette’s throat. Then she swallowed it down. There was no reason to feel sorry for Violet and her deprived childhood. That was all over now. Yvette had saved her.

What Yvette wanted in return wasn’t so bad, really.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying your freedom,” she said. For a second, she wished she could leave Violet here, eating chocolate chip cookies and watching cartoons.

But what she needed was just a minor thing. It was nothing, to someone with Violet’s training. And when it was done, Violet could come right back here to her TV and cookies. She wouldn’t be returning to a cold, empty cell.

Yvette’s eyes flicked to the bracelet. She quickly looked away.

“I need a favor,” she said.

---

Tagged: @suspicious-whumping-egg @whump-kitty @violets-whumperflies

Ask to be added or removed from taglist.

[riftfic]

I made a playlist 💙

No, this isn't the surprise. ;) Still working on that. Shouldn't be too long now. I tried to put everything in the order of events. It's mostly easy listening except for a few key moments. Some of it I listened to when writing. Some of it inspired me or reminded me of certain moments, or of character thoughts and feelings. I've included a Chapter Key under the cut :)

Chapter 1: No More (2023 Integrated Version on AO3) 1. Cobalt (Intro) 2. Be Still, My Tongue - Sans 3. A Reason to Hold On - Sans Chapter 2: Eclipse (2023 Integrated Version on AO3) 4. Reset - Frisk 5. 1001 - Sans to Papyrus 6. Insight XXXIV Chapter 3: The Machine 7. set adrift 8. Cherish 9. Catch Chapter 4: Golden Flowers 10. Fallen Down 11. Home (from "Undertale") 12. Ruins Chapter 5: There, Sometimes 13. EYE HAVE YOU - Flowey Fight 14. Waterfall (Undertale Remix) Chapter 6: Scales 15. A Way With You 16. Spear of Justice - From Sans' Perspective 17. Battle Against a True Hero (From Undertale) - From Frisk's Chapter 7: Your Brother 18. Plume - Undyne on Piano 19. I Wanted to Leave - Undyne on Piano 20. Stay Hollow (with mossy) - feat sans undertale lmao 21. On My Side - Sans to Frisk Chapter 8: Remember 22. But Why? 23. Stonewall Stone Fence - Frisk to Sans

Chapter 9: A Good Person 24. Alphys 25. Sacrilegium III 26. It's Raining Somewhere Else Chapter 10: Gray Ghosts 27. You Make Me Happy - up until Sans and Frisk argue 28. Another Medium Chapter 11: The Descent 29. Here We Are 30. Not Human - Frisk 31. Land of All - Sans (convince me woodkid doesn't have his voice) Chapter 12: The Experiment 32. Promise (Reprise) 33. Bone 34. Collapsing Sun 35. The Great Cataclysm 36. The World Spins Madly On - the aftermath Chapter 13: Encaged 37. empty crown - frisk 38. Across the Drift 39. Scars (Instrumental Version) 40. Summer Clouds - sans 41. Don't Leave Me Here Chapter 14: Human 42. Megalovania - Piano 43. BRIEF 44. Crawl 45. It's Alright 46. Promise - Sans to Frisk 47. everything i wanted - Frisk to Sans Chapter 15: Determination 48. Soul Mirror 49. His Theme (From "Undertale) 50. The Place You Promised to Show Me 51. OATH 52. Blooming (In C Minor) 53. Confrontation 54. Your Soul is Beautiful Chapter 16: Together, Apart 55. Ashes in the Wind 56. Find Yourself 57. Believe 58. Lovin' Me (feat. Phoebe Bridgers) - Sans and Frisk Chapter 17: Epilogue 59. I'll Be There Soon 60. Reunited (From Undertale) 61. Cobalt (Outro) lookit all dos chikinz amazing, you made it to the bottom here, you may behold our beloved:

[fandomsandflyingstingrays]

Stepping Stones: Chapter 7

Darius opens the door with a small huff of relief, drawing raised eyebrows from Eda. Relief isn’t an emotion she usually inspires, especially not this early in the morning. 

“Please,” Darius says. “Tell me you’re here to go with Raine when they drop off their paperwork and make sure they don’t back out of it.”

“I’m here to go with Raine when they drop off their paperwork and make sure they don’t back out of it,” Eda confirms, and Darius pumps his fist, stepping aside so that she can come in.

“Raine,” he calls, “your girlfriend is here. Time to get going.”

“Eda?”

Raine emerges from the corner of the house where the bunk beds are stacked, and Eda bites back a laugh even as heat floods her cheeks. From the neck down, they’re as immaculate as ever in a button-down white shirt, high-waisted black pants, and heeled boots. But only every other button of the shirt is done up, and their hair sticks out in about twenty directions at once. It’s a good look. 

Darius, unfortunately, doesn’t seem to agree. “No. You’re not going out like this.”

“Why? These are some of my nicest clothes—“

“Which is why they should be buttoned properly.”

Raine looks down and groans. “I was up half the night filling out those stupid forms,” they explain, hastily doing up the shirt according to its design. 

“Hey, I thought it was a look,” she tells them.

“See? You know that’s a red flag.” Darius pulls out a hairbrush from who-knows-where and runs it through Raine’s hair, smoothing the fluffy green locks until they all flow in the same direction. Shame. 

“Thanks, Darius,” Raine says, standing again and taking Eda’s outstretched hand. “You were really going to let me turn in my paperwork looking like that?” They ask her.

“After fifty years of leadership from a masked creep in pristine white? Absolutely. We need a leader who really represents the people: sleep deprived and owning it.”

Raine elbows her. Eda retaliates, the two of them jabbing at each other until they’re both grinning and Darius shoves them out of the door with his abomination hair. 

“Go on and be sappy somewhere else,” he crabs. “And Raine, don’t come back until you’ve turned your paperwork in!”

The door slams behind him.

“He certainly seems like a low-intensity roommate,” Eda says dryly. 

Raine laughs and summons Fiddlesticks. They hold their staff horizontally, then pause, the mirth fading from their face. 

Eda puts a hand on their shoulder. “When was the last time you flew on your own?”

Raine smiles sadly. “On my way to my initiation as a coven head.”

Eda pulls them close, and they lean their head on her shoulder. “You can still fly with me if you want,” she says softly. “Until you get used to the idea of flying with a new palisman.”

“As much as I hate to deprive you of my company,” Raine teases, “I think this will be good for me.”

“Well, I had to try.” Eda’s mostly joking, but the idea of flying without their arms around her waist does make her feel a little colder. Still, she kisses their head and steps back, summoning Owlbert and perching on his staff. Raine takes a deep breath, then another, and then perches on Fiddlesticks’s.

Eda lets them take the lead, waiting until they decide to take off and following close behind them. They start off slow, but gradually pick up speed until they’re slicing effortlessly through the air, months of being bound to the ground sliding away. Not to be outdone, Eda pulls ahead, craning her neck to get a look at their face. They grin, a spark in their eyes that she hasn’t seen in years.

“I forgot how much I missed this,” they breathe.

“Let’s see if you’ve still got your old skills,” Eda calls. “Race you to the library!”

She takes off as soon as the last word leaves her lips, Raine squawking indignantly behind her. 

With the palace in shambles, the makeshift committee that’s been in charge of the Isles these last two months has been meeting in the Bonesborough Library. It’s a suitably grand building, and Lilith liked the symbolism of the island’s leaders being surrounded by “endless tomes of knowledge”. As the towering stone building gets closer, Eda notices enormous vines curling over the stairs— evidence of Terra’s interruption that she supposes no one had had the energy to remove. 

She soars over them and neatly touches down in front of the doors a second before Raine does.

“Looks like someone has some practicing to do,” she says, turning back to them with a grin.

“You had a head start!”

Eda turns back to the door, not intending to dignify that with a response, but it bursts open before she can touch the handle and Luz barrels out, carrying a truly terrifying stack of books in one hand and holding Amity’s hand with the other.

“Luz? When did you get here?”

“After you left!”

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Eda says, glancing at her watch, “but doesn’t your human school start in fifteen minutes?”

“Which is why we have to go,” Amity says, tugging on Luz’s hand. “I don’t want to get you in trouble with Camila!”

Eda shakes her head proudly. “Cutting class for a secret date. I’ve taught you well, apprentice.”

“I was studying!” Luz protests, shoving her stack of books a hairlength away from Eda’s nose. “What about this says secret date to you?”

“With you two,” Eda sighs, “I can never tell.”

Luz pauses. “That’s fair.” Then her eyes light up, focusing over Eda’s shoulder. “Raine! Your palisman!” 

Raine beams. “Their name is Fiddlesticks.”

“Awww, just when I thought they couldn’t get any cuter,” Luz gasps, holding out a hand and watching with shining eyes as Fiddlesticks scurries along her arm, making their way to her shoulder and nuzzling her and then Stringbean in greeting.

“If you make it to school on time, I’ll take them to the Human Realm after so you can get to know each other,” Raine says.

“Great! Yes! Amity, let’s go!” Luz crams her unholy stack into an enormous bag, swings it over Stringbean’s staff, and hops on behind it. 

Thank you, Amity mouths to Raine, then climbs onto Ghost’s staff and speeds away after Luz.

“You think she’ll make it?” Raine asks, watching them go.

Eda shrugs. “We usually did.”

A faint smile curves Raine’s mouth as they turn to open the doors. They and Eda make their way through the maze of books and up to the little rooms that have been designated “administrative offices” with haphazard signs. 

“Lilith is the one handling the paperwork,” Raine says. “She was adamant that she’s not going to run.”

Eda opens the door to Lilith’s office without preamble, sticking her head in to find her sister bent over a truly alarming stack of papers. “Really?” She asks. “Perfect Lilith, Type A Extraordinaire, doesn’t want to shape the Isles in her image?”

Lilith shakes her head. “I learned the hard way that positions of power aren’t very good for me.” She looks up, meeting Eda’s eyes. “I don’t like who I become to get them.”

Eda swallows. Nods. The tension in the room is thick enough to contain even the most corrosive of potions until Raine steps forward with their stack of forms and Lilith’s face lights up. 

“But Raine, you’d be perfect! I’m so glad you decided to apply!”

She reaches for the stack, and Raine’s fingers tighten on it. Eda lays a hand on their shoulder, gentle but firm, and Raine lets go with what sounds like a sigh of relief.

“That’s my Rainestorm.” Eda winds her arm around their neck. “Come on, you beautiful bard. Let’s go get some apple iced scream to celebrate.”

“Actually,” Raine says as they exit the library together, “there’s something I wanted to talk with you about first.”

Eda perches on a vine, and Raine pulls themself up behind her. “Ask away,” she says— and then is hit by immediate and debilitating regret when she sees the look in their eyes. It’s the patented Raine Whispers Is About to Ask You About Something You’re Repressing look, and she wants no part in it.

“You said you had other ideas for how to leave your mark on the Isles,” Raine says. “What did you mean?”

Eda briefly contemplates deflecting, but they both know Raine would see right through it. 

“Do you know what a university is?”

Raine shakes their head.

“It’s something Luz told me about. In the Human Realm— or her part of it, at least— after graduating, some kids will go to schools called universities that are supposed to prepare them for their careers. It kind of interested me. For the last fifty years, everyone has entered a coven as soon as they left school, if not before. But now that we don’t have covens anymore, would that still work?”

“I’ve thought about that, too,” Raine says. “So… you want to start one? A universibee?”

“University. No bees involved. I had Lily look it up, and before the covens, the Isles used to have them too, so it shouldn’t be quite so hard to bring them back. So. Yes. I think. Go ahead, you can say it. I’m a hypocrite.”

Raine squints. “What? Why would I say that?”

“I literally just said yesterday that I don’t want to be an authority figure.”

“Thank goodness. Kids who are trying to learn don’t need a disciplinarian; they need a guide.”

And dang it, Eda feels herself starting to smile. 

“Why haven’t you mentioned this?” Raine asks, more softly now. “I could have brought it to the committee and worked it into the budget. Everyone would have loved it.”

Eda shrugs. She tries to look nonchalant, though she knows her next words will undermine that. It’s more for her benefit than Raine’s, anyway. 

“I want to start a school of magic, but I don’t have any magic. Not even the glyphs, anymore.” She smiles bitterly. “I wasn’t exactly sure if I was qualified.

“But then I look at Luz. She has piles of work from her human school— which are incomprehensible, by the way— and no magical ability or glyphs or anything, and she’s still in the library reading about the history of magic, and mixing up abomination goo, and playing your violin, and practicing spell circles with her palisman. She can’t do a single spell, and she understands magic better than almost anyone I know. I’d trust her to run a school, so I ought to trust myself, right? And if my first student turned out this well, just think of all the talent I could squeeze out of those kids.”

Raine laughs, but their eyes are shining as they cup Eda’s face in their hands and press their forehead to hers. “I’m so proud of you.”

“We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?”

“And it looks like we only have farther to go.”

Both of them give heaving, overdramatic sighs at the same time and crack up. “All right,” Eda says, launching herself off of the vine. “That’s enough serious stuff for one day. Ice cream only now.”

“Okay, but Eda—“

“No!”

“One last thing! Your university— can I talk to the committee about it?”

“It’s not like they can fund it until the election.”

“No, but we can figure out a budget for it and start thinking about how it might work.”

“This is just a ploy to get me to come to one of those meetings, isn’t it?” 

“Eda, I’ve been waiting to see a rematch between you and Terra for years. If you’re not there the next time she barges in, I’m going to combust.”

Eda cackles. “Well, how can I resist that invitation?”

“So you’ll let me bring it up?”

“Yeah, yeah. But you’d better win this election, Rainestorm. I’m not building this school with someone who doesn’t understand my vision.”

“I’m still not going to let you release any ghouls in the dorms.”

“Such a spoilsport.”

“Well, go on then. What are you thinking for your curriculum?”

“You’re probably going to regret asking,” Eda warns, because these ideas have been circulating in her head for years. But even though Eda has so much to say that she doesn’t pause for breath until she’s shoving a spoonful of iced scream into her mouth, Raine never once stops smiling. 

[mdzs-fics]

Time travel talisman VS clumsy young man = Chaos by BurningBlueDiamond

a series of shorter stories

AU - Time-Travel and … 7 parts, complete

A series based on a common theme is a reality across the Módào Zǔshī fandom. Characters and situations that move from one story to the next can be a fun read.

For their series Time travel talisman VS clumsy young man = Chaos, Author Burning BlueDiamond begins with a one-chapter tale titled A Room Full of Dead People and continues with three more stories. A few years later, they wrote three more stories that included the multi-chapter The Consequences of Accidental Time Travel.

The final story in the series serves as an epilogue of sorts that describes the changes that occur in a new timeline.

A Room Full of Dead People

“Ehm, Sizhui” his voice was hesitant but smooth and easily audible even at the very back of the room. His companion made a non verbal sound that Jiang Cheng was sure he heard somewhere else. The one who spoke continued:

“We aren't dead, are we?” at the words the one named Sizhui took his wrist and touched his own neck, probably searching for a heartbeat or spiritual energy. (Which was pretty useless in Jiang Cheng's future opinion, formulated that night as he rethought of this very event).

“No, we are very much alive, Jingyi” Sizhui answered, his voice had a musical tone to it, like he grew up listening to music, which, Jiang Cheng thought, was most likely the case since he was from the only music orientated sect. After hearing them speak most people had unconsciously relaxed a little, even the warriors like Nie Mingjue: it was clear that whoever they were they were as confused as they felt. But then Jingyi continued.

“Then why are we staring at a room full of dead people?” that caused said room full of dead people to freeze in their seats.

In which two Good Lan Boys accidentally travel back in time and, when two Fathers arrive to rescue them, the Sects get an earful from Future Wei Wuxian.

If at first you don't successed (hope that your son and his best friend aren't in the middle of a war)

The rigor payed off. Few hours after the horrifying discovery that their son and his best friend used a highly dangerous and untested talisman, Wei Ying draw the last line on their stack of equally dangerous and still untested talismans.

In which the search for two Wayward Lan Boys commences.

The Day Wen Ruohan Became a Psychic

In which a Sect Leader who ditched the latest Discussion Conference has a very bad day. And nightmares.

How Nie Huaisang Learned to Never Skip a Conference

Skipping an afternoon of the Discussion Conference means someone doesn't get all of the dirt first-hand. And boy is he ticked off.

The Consequences of Accidental Time Travel

And then it rained fire. Jiang Cheng was caught so off guard that the thought to yell profanities at Wei Wuxian, which was exactly the reason he was even there in first place, didn't cross his mind until he went to sleep that night.

In which we get five chapters of reactions from those involved in A Room Full of Dead People, both Future and Past. The last chapter is titled "The actual chaotic conference in which Things are Discussed and Shit Hits the Fan in a rather spectacular way, mostly off-screen" … and it aims to please.

A Room Full of Dead People - Nie Huaisang Edition (an AU of an AU?)

“That is a big bold lie, Lan Sizhui. You resent way more people that both you and others think”

“Oh, really, who?” the question was posed in challenge, like he was daring Jingyi to actually answer. The other levelled him with a look that screamed defiance and did just that:

“The entire Jin Clan, save for Jin Ling, even if I'm not entirely sure you've 100% forgiven him for stabbing Xian-gege; Xue Yang, the Wen Main Clan and their followers, Yu Ziyuan. Oh, and Nie Huaisang” he quickly listed off a, quite frankly, long number of people for one who was supposed to not resent at all. Wait… Nie Huaisang?!

In which Nie Huaisang does not miss the afternoon session previously described.

All in All, Life is Good

In which … spoilers. The title is actually a line in this story, which author BurningBlueDiamond describes as "a glorified point list". All-in-all a satisfying end for a time-travel AU series.

[possiblylando]

Jojolands Chapter 7 Thoughts

I really liked Jojolands Chapter 7. I'll do this in the same sort of way I do my CSM posts. I probably won't talk about every single chapter in Jojolands but we'll see.

Jojoland gets the Ultrajump cover this time. Araki has said theres no canon color pallet for these characters but he's just lying to our faces. He is sold on this single Jodio color scheme. this is just how Jodio is colored. I do find it interesting he made Dragona white for some reason. It's one of those weird Araki coloring quirks you don't really see anywhere else. It's happened with Pucci and Avdol before and as pointed out by someone else on twitter, This is just how Araki colors these spreads. He uses a single skin color for every character. Still odd. Usagi's color pallet is basically a perfect Mirror of Idubbbz's Green "Dude" character. With each chapter we get slowly closer to pink Usagi.

We get the Jojolands emblem which I rather like.

Jodio's pose is still pretty dumb. I get that it's him being arrested but like- Cmon. I know for a FACT araki could've come up with something more interesting. I guess it's not that out of place for Jojo's main poses. Jotaro just pointed and grabbed his hat. Notably Jodio still has some sort of writing in this hood. I can't really make out what it says still however.

Continuing through the Cat ambush we get more information on November Rain. It's effective range is directly around Jodio with it's maximum range sitting somewhere below 7 Meters. Additionally November Rain does THIS

Which is is sorta akin to my previous theory about how it worked. It seems to have a certain amount of gravity control. However it may not be directly under it as I previously predicted but instead it's able to control the gravity of it's rain drops. So the Cats are 100% Rock Animals or some other concept for weird animals Araki is gonna reveal in the coming chapters.

Given that these cats all share the same ability to turn their hair into wires it seems reasonable to assume they're the same sort of species and this is just an ability they possess. However we've seen that some animals develop the same stands with the rats in part 4. Both of which are able to develop the stand Ratt. And then of course MY BOY RETURNS

Usagi continues to prove he's the best character in this part.

He manages to prove in just a few pages that he has an insanely high deductive reasoning skill. He was able to figure out what the Lava Rock did, Then he acted on it to win the fight. The other characters may see Usagi as a Greenhorn idiot but he's undeniably really smart. This also goes to show how dangerous the Lava Rock is. It's able to attract things of value which are inside a person or animal. It likely has a threshold on the value of objects it attracts. But we could end up with a disgustingly strong object which is able to attract organs out of people's bodies.

So Jodio's line of thinking is interesting here. It implies one of two things. 1. The cats were already stalking Rohan in search of the Lava rock 2. The cats were sent by someone searching for the Lava Rock They could very much be set up for the main antagonist(s) of this part. Possible being another antagonist group instead of just a single one. It seems like Araki is taking the criticism of Part 8 to heart and is going to be giving us our main antagonist sooner rather than later. However we've already been set up with a Traitor among the main crew who could easily end up being the main antagonist. The cats could just be setting up a minor Antagonist or Group and not the main one. Good chapter.

[aloneinthehellfire]

Chapter 7: Part 2: The Call

Raining Hellfire: Season One | Season Two

Raining Hellfire: Season Two

Word Count: 1628 words

Warnings: swearing, illusions to ptsd, mentions of wounds, reader literally just suffering oops

[A/N: Me? Ignoring that the rest of these chapters are just drafts at the moment? Could never be me. I also reached 100 followers oh my lord.]

Part 2: The Call

You froze.

You watched as the creature in front of you uncurled its mouth, rows of teeth threatening your life.

With one swift motion, its claws wrapped around your neck and threw you to the ground. The bat tumbled out of your hand as your head hit the hard floorboards. Its grip on you was tight, restricting your screams to mere whimpers. In the background, you could hear Nancy’s cries.

You struggled beneath the weight, trying anything to escape. It brought its head closer to you and slowly opened its giant mouth, rancid breath blowing onto your face. Each row of teeth brought terror to your mind.

You couldn’t breathe. Rows of teeth. You couldn’t breathe. Its face opened. You couldn’t breathe.

“Y/N!!”

Max’s screams were the only thing that broke through your state.

One of the creatures pounce and you grip your bat, aiming and swinging. The nails tore into flesh, sending it flying into another. Two monsters with one bat. Another tries to knock you to the ground. You return the favour.

Breathing through the fight, you risk a glance to the bus, Steve’s wide eyes staring back at you. He looked conflicted. You knew he couldn’t help you.

With one more blow to a dog-like creature, you see your opportunity to run and you take it.

Steve reaches out, his hand desperate to find yours and pull you to safety. Everyone was screaming now and you ran as fast as your legs could take you, jumping over stranded pieces of metal scattered across the junkyard. You were almost there.

You felt your fingers brush against Steve’s before a sharp pain sears into your shoulder.

A creature had pounced once your back was turned, claws cutting through material and meeting flesh.

Steve manages to twist around you as you scream, kicking the thing off of you and pulling you in before any more could attack.

Once the door was shut, you had no time to cry over your wounded shoulder. You and Steve had to use your bodies to keep the entrance closed and you struggled against the weight of the six creatures wanting in. The whole bus was shaking from the impact.

Another tried to break in further into the bus and you ran over to the kids, swinging the bat at it and blocking the wall with whatever you could find.

It was complete chaos.

A scream left Max’s lips and you instinctively push her out of the way, staring out of the make-shift skylight as the monster opens it’s mouth with a roar.

“Come on asshole!” You cry, keeping the kids behind you as you laid your life on the line. If you missed the swing… you didn’t want to know what would happen.

One claw forward, ready to pounce. And then… nothing.

Before it even attacked, something else caught its attention. A chorus of shrieks surrounded the bus before they all pushed off and the footsteps became quieter and quieter.

With heavy breaths, you all cautiously make your way outside.

If someone was talking, you didn’t hear it. There was a strange pull, a beacon in the back of your mind that was summoning you forward into the forest; to follow the creatures. It wasn’t a strong feeling, but it was still lingering there nonetheless.

“No, they’re going somewhere.” Steve turned back to everyone and you quickly nodded in agreement despite missing the conversation.

Everyone still stood there for a moment, recollecting themselves. You see Max’s hand shake slightly as she stares out into the junkyard, afraid. You try to raise your arm to comfort her until a sharp pain shot through your arm.

“Uh, guys. I don’t wanna worry anyone or anything but my shoulder really stings.” Your voice breaks into the silence and the gang turn to you with wide eyes; you had all forgotten about that wound.

“Shit!” Dustin gasps from behind you. He was the only one with a view of what the creature did to you.

“Is it bad?” You wince.

“Uhh…” He was at a loss for words and you squeezed your eyes shut.

“Fuck. I’ll take that as a yes.”

You break away from the group, making your way back onto the bus in search for your backpack. When you had seen Dart for the first time, you had made sure to pack anything you could find in terms of first aid, especially considering your track record with demogorgons. It turned out that you had every right to be prepared.

“Need some help?” Max’s voice rang out while you gently peeled off the jacket from your wound.

“Please.” You agree, handing her the bandages while you pull the lid off the bottle of alcohol. If anyone was going to help you, you’d rather it be Max. You trusted her.

Taking a deep breath, you shove a rag into your mouth to bite down on. Shoving away any nerves, you pour the alcohol directly onto your wound and wince hard, a small noise leaving your lips despite your efforts to control it. The pain makes you feel faint all of a sudden and you shakily sit, moving your body so Max could take care of the rest.

At the sight of you struggling, Steve pushes the audience of Lucas and Dustin out of the way and crouches in front of you, eyebrows furrowed.

“Shit. I’m sorry. I should have checked before I-”

You shake your head, resting your hand on his leg for support once Max applies pressure to the wound and begins to dress it. He shouldn’t feel guilty for anything that happened.

“No,” You finally say quietly after taking the rag out of your mouth. “It’s my fault. I froze.”

“Y/n...” He gently takes your hand in his as you sigh. Max takes the final bandage and wraps your shoulder neatly; years of experience thanks to your father.

“We should get the kids out of here.” You bring your eyes to his, noting the sorrow that lay behind them.

There was a familiarity in each step you took as you walked across the train tracks once again. The only differences being that it was now pitch black and you were in charge of getting three kids safely back home.

Steve walked the closest to you, giving you some distance. He could tell you were distracted by some force unknown to him. He knew you were keeping secrets yet you refused to admit it to them. Last year, you almost died and now, it was all crashing down on you. You lost the only normality in your life; Eddie. He was your anchor, the one keeping you sane.

You didn’t know why you were shutting everyone out. You were aware that they were just trying to help, to show their support but it was getting harder and harder for you to open up.

“Dart ate a cat?!”

The walk came to a halt when Lucas pulled Dustin to a stop. You had been zoned out, not paying attention to the conversation, but you didn’t have to be a genius to catch on to the discussion.

“No, what? No.” Dustin lied, shaking his head vigorously.

“What are you talking about?” Steve chimed in, looking oblivious as ever, “He ate Mews.”

“Mews? Who’s Mews?” Max looked between the members of the group, knowing she was clearly missing something.

“It’s Dustin’s cat.” Steve continued and you smirked slightly.

“Steve!” Dustin protested and a laugh escaped your mouth. Steve glanced to you, a smile tugging at his own lips.

“I knew it!” Lucas shoved Dustin, “You kept him!”

“No!” Dustin tried, Lucas just staring at the boy. “No. No, I… I… He missed me. He wanted to come home.”

“Bullshit!”

“I didn’t know he was a Demogorgon!”

“Oh, so now you admit it?”

“Yeah, well…” Dustin tried again, looking around until his eyes landed on you. “Last year, Y/n was attacked by a Demogorgon!”

“What?!” Lucas and Max exclaim simultaneously. All eyes were on you.

“Wow.” You say, moving away from the group. Dustin reaches to you but you just hold your hands up, walking past him.

“Really, dude?” You hear Steve say as you take a breath.

You were too tired for arguments. Usually, you’d have some sort of snarky remark to defend yourself but right now… you just didn’t feel anything.

It was as if you finally accepted your fate; destined for pain.

All of a sudden, the loud words of the fight behind you drowned out. Your mind felt clear, a small tug at your brain insisting you walk toward the tree line.

Without hesitation, you let the impulse pull you like a magnet.

A screech echoed in the distance. Your mind warbled it into a cry. A cry for help.

The argument officially stopped, the screeching continued and yet, you noticed none of it.

A t t a c k

It was a beacon, calling you forward as a recruitment. Your legs moved without decision, the Party distracted.

Another screech and you heard footsteps behind you, the mention of your name. It snapped you back into focus and you took in the scene ahead of you. You were stood at the edge of the hill, the view of the forest with an out-of-place building dropped into the middle of it.

You felt Steve walk up next to you, the kids close behind.

“It’s the lab.” Lucas shares, lowering the binoculars pressed against his face. “They were going back home.”

Another call for help sparks in the back of your mind. You wanted answers more than ever.

Your feet started walking before you could comprehend, quickly guiding you down the hill.

“Shit.” Steve breathes as you break away from the group, “Come on.”

This monster-hunting party was about to pay a visit to Hawkins Lab.

Chapter 8: Strong Connections ->

taglist: @gnnnne / @beepisbeep / @paintballkid711/ @eddiesbirdie/ @livasaurasrex/ @darktimelegends / @jackierose902109 / @mvrylee

[justinewt]

Black Rain - THE 100 REWRITE Chapter Thirty-Three

[THE 100 MASTERLIST]

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Summary: After the fish and insects and animals dying, the black rain arrived, forcing everyone to find shelter, harming and killing a lot of them. It was hard on all of them but they pushed through it, they had to. And then, it turned out Jaha was right about the second dawn bunker and it existed. They had a chance to survive the fire that would ravage the whole earth soon.

Words: 5.3k

Warnings: The 100 season 4 spoilers (episode 7 'Gimme shelter", episode 8 "God complex" & episode 9 "DNR"), mention of suicide attempt (mere mention of a scar, nothing else)

Michelle and her father walked up to Bellamy as he parked the rover in the middle of camp. She glanced at the sky. In less than a few hours, it had become threateningly yellow and was covered with thick clouds. Black rain was really coming this time and Octavia was still somewhere out there and her brother was understandably beyond concerned for her safety. She knew he felt like he was failing her, but there was really nothing else he could do. As she was looking up, she felt something drop on her temple and flinched, turning her head aside with a frown. Kane and Bellamy began yelling at everyone around them as they pushed Michelle to run towards the station. She stumbled a bit and ran inside with the others, sheltering herself and a child with a large piece of tarp she had grabbed while running. Thunder rumbled and lighting flashed in the distance as the acidic rain intensified and people ran to take shelter inside the station. Inside, everyone rushed to pour water on themselves, some of them even took off their clothes.

Water dripped from Michelle’s hair and face. She squeezed out her hair with one hand and wiped her face with the palm of the other, catching her breath, and looked around to see where her father and Bellamy were. She saw them, right by the door and jogged over to them, weaving between the panicked people crowded in the hallway. From what she heard Bellamy say as she approached, someone was still out there. She didn’t step too close to the door but peered outside and saw a man lying on the ground. He was still moving and screaming in pain. They didn’t waste any more time, told her to stay put and they grabbed a piece of tarp and a large jacket, and she watched anxiously as they went out. They quickly got to him, helped him up, putting his arm around their shoulders and rushed him inside. Two guards came at the door to get him as he screamed, his face twisted by the pain he was in, and they took him away.

“I have to find Octavia.” Bellamy exclaimed, speaking over the pouring rain.

“She’s not here. She took off hours ago.”

“I gotta find her.” He was about to leave again when Kane grabbed his arm to stop him.

“Bellamy, look. We don’t know where she went. You just got back, and the rover doesn’t have enough power to go searching through the woods.”

“The rain will kill her.”

“She’s smart. You gotta trust that she found shelter, okay?” He was worried sick for his sister, but ended up acquiescing, glancing at the car still parked by the gate. Kane quickly checked his daughter but seeing as she was fine, he was reassured and went to check on the rest of their people. Michelle then looked back at Bellamy and for half a second, seeing him walk towards the door, she thought he was going to run outside but he just pulled the door closed.

“All wet clothing in the designated zone.” Kane then told everyone. Having been one of the first to cover themselves from the rain and get inside, the few driops of rain that did fall on her had done no damage to her jacket or skin and had already dried, but she still took it off along with her shirt and kept on dousing herself in water to wash her skin. She would retrieve it later. It was literally the only piece of clothing in the entire station with a USA flag patch on it, and she had written her name inside of it, as well as her grandfather’s and her Hawaiian great grandfather’s. Her mother had been the only one in their line to never wear it.

Bellamy was right next to her and her eyes briefly wandered over his bare torso. Someone called out to them over a radio, and she turned her head to her father as he took it in his hand, pulling out the antenna. “This is chancellor Kane. I hear you. Can you hear me?”

“Kane— Kane, it’s Mark Colton.” He motioned for the people around them to be quiet so he could hear the man better. “Look, please, my son is soaked with black rain. Please. You gotta help us. Hurry!”

The three of them shared a look and Michelle saw in Bellamy’s eyes that it was going to give him another reason to want to go out and try to help these people. It made her worry about him. Everyone was moved to the hangar, where there was more room for all of them. Some were coughing or lying on makeshift beds. The medical bay was already full of people sick from the rain’s radiation. It had taken some time for the symptoms to show up but a lot of them had been affected with this ARS that Abby had told them about – Acute radiation sickness. Michelle was still perfectly fine, to Kane and Bellamy’s relief. And so were they.

“Bellamy, there's really nothing I can say to change your mind, huh?” The latter had put on a protective suit which he had attempted to fully seal with lots of gaffer tape, still wrapping some of it around his wrists. He insisted that he had to go help the people out there, assuring her he would be careful.

“Everyone else accounted for?” He then asked as he saw Kane walk towards them.

“Jaha and Monty reported in from sector 5. All 200 of their people are safe. The other sectors are still counting. We’re down two.”

“Not for long.” They looked over at Harper trying to take care of the man who fell in the rain while everyone was getting inside. He was unwell from the prolonged exposure and coughed badly.

“Bellamy, the fire damage to that suit could cause tears you can’t see, much less seal.”

“I tried telling him.” Michelle said quietly, watching him as he kept on putting tape all over the suit.

“It’s the best we got.” Kane grabbed his hand, making Bellamy look up at him.

“That’s Mark Colton out there. I know him. He’s resourceful. Right now, they’re under an overhang, out of the rain.”

“His son Peter was one of the 100. I’m doing this.” Michelle shook her head with a sigh, resting her hand on the edge of the table. He grabbed the mask and walked out of the hangar. She followed him all the way to the door and called out to him as he stopped to put on the mask. He looked over his shoulder and turned around.

“Be careful, okay?”

“I will.” They gazed at each other and shared a loving kiss before he finally put on his mask and pushed the door open, glancing at her as he walked out. She held her arms, watching him anxiously and looked behind her upon feeling hands clasp her shoulders. It was just her father. She pulled her eyebrows together in worry when she saw Bellamy bent forward and suddenly start running. Kane called out to him, urging him to turn around but he didn’t listen to him, or maybe he couldn’t hear him with the noise the rain was making. Michelle reflexively took a step forward, letting her arms fall to her side and her father’s grip tightened slightly to keep her where she was, though she wouldn’t have actually walked in the rain. He took his hand off her to grab his radio.

“Bellamy, what the hell happened? Bellamy. Bellamy come in.”

“You were right. The suit’s useless.” He said, panting.

“You gotta come back in. Bring the rover to the airlock.” They then heard Colton’s voice come over the radio, talking to Bellamy.

“Are you on the move yet? Peter doesn’t look so good.” He asked.

“He’s been through worse. We’ll get through this too. I’m on my way.”

“No.” Michelle spoke under her breath, glancing at the radio and looking to the rover as the engine started. Her father then turned a button and asked Bellamy to come on the private channel.

“No more lectures. I can’t find my sister, but I do know where they are.” He turned a deaf ear to whatever Kane then tried to tell him and asking him to stop didn’t do anything. He turned on the rover’s headlight, turning the car towards the gate, but he did stop for a moment to listen to Kane.

“No unnecessary risks. You come home safe.”

“I got this.” He drove out of camp and both of them, but especially Michelle, were nervous and concerned about him, gulping. He then closed the airlock, and they returned to the hangar, sitting together in a corner of the room, with the radio on the table waiting for Bellamy to come in. Michelle was staring at the radio, lying on the table, her cheek crushed against her arm. Bellamy could be heard calling out to Colton and his son but having no response from them for some time. She followed her father with her eyes as he picked up the radio, listening carefully. Eventually, Colton’s voice rose but he cut himself off as though something had happened but all he then said was his son’s name. The wind had shifted, moving the overhang around and the rain was falling on them. There was nothing all for them to use as cover and Peter’s father was using himself to shield his son from the rain. Bellamy told him he would be there in just a couple minutes and was suddenly interrupted. Michelle straightened up, glancing at her father.

“Bellamy, I don’t see the lights. Where are you?”

“Just— Just a minor delay. Just— Just hang on.”

“No! No! No, we can’t. We can’t! How long?”

“Bellamy, what’s happening?” Kane asked on the private channel. “Answer. What minor delay?”

“Stuck in the mud. Gonna use the winch to get me out.”

“Negative.” He stood up from the stool he had been sitting on. “Bellamy, you have no suit, and I can hear the rain over the radio. Please, just… just wait for the storm to pass. Is that clear?” On the other channel, Colton coughed, urging Bellamy to come help him and his son and Michelle could hear from his silence that he was having conflicting thoughts on the situation and what to do. Michelle’s worried frowned accentuated. “Bellamy. If you go into that storm, 3 people die instead of two. You’re out of options. It’s time to let go.

“What am I supposed to tell them?”

He shook his head, “The truth.”

“Mark. Peter. I can’t get to you.”

“What? No. We’ll come to you. Please, I can carry him.” Michelle let her head fall forward, looking down at her hands.

“It’s too far, Mark. You won’t make it.” Bellamy told him.

“We won’t make it here!”

“Look, I— I’m sorry. You just— your only chance is just to wait a little longer, and when the rain stops, I can dig out.”

“My son is dying!” He cried out. “He’s dying right now. You said that you would help us. Please!” Hearing him beg was heartbreaking. It felt just like when Michelle found Abby and Kane after they landed in that lake near the dropship and she was told of her mother’s death and lashed out at Kane, crying and screaming at him, putting all the blame on him for what happened to her mother. She glanced at her father. He leaned on the table, resting his forehead against his hand. He then switched the channel.

“Abby, are you there? Come in.”

“I’m here. Ah, it’s so good to hear your voice.”

“I have bad news, Abby. The black rain’s here. It’s worse than we thought. It, uh— it burns on contact. It kills. After today, the water won’t be drinkable. We lost what we had stored in the fire. We have enough for a couple of weeks, but after that—”

“I know what happens after that.”

“We need a solution. Abby, are you there?”

“I’m here.” She paused. “There may be a solution.”

“That’s great.”

“But to find it, I have to do something that I never thought I’d have to do.”

“You’ll make the right decision.” He gave a nod. “You always do.”

“Can I ask you something? If I take a life… to find a— cure… Does that make me a murderer?”

He sighed, “Abby, I… I don’t know how to answer that. I wish I did.”

“What if it can save us all? Would I be able to live with myself then?”

“Taking a life should never be easy. I hope it’s not easy for you. Your humanity is your greatest strength. Sometimes we need a different kind of strength. We need to survive. Then we can all find our humanity again.”

“I hope you’re right, Marcus.” He then looked over his shoulder as they heard Harper cry. The man lying on the mattress in front of her was dead. She sobbed and closed his eyes. It was a pretty depressing day overall, but their attention soon went back to the radio when Bellamy’s voice came on. He was calling out to Colton and his son. Her father took a few steps away from the table, terminating his conversation with Abby. According to Bellamy, the rain was almost over, but he wasn’t getting any response from the father and son. He was desperately trying to talk to them, but there was only a deafening silence.

“Bellamy…” Her father spoke. “You did your best.”

“I failed. They’re dead.”

“It’s not your fault. I can’t protect anyone.” With her elbow resting on the table, she let her forehead fall on her fist and closed her eyes, conscious of how hurt and powerless this all made him feel. “I couldn’t protect my sister. My responsibility, and I failed. My mom passed out. She was there. She was in my hands. She was so helpless, and now what is she? Is she even alive? What is she? I—”

“You didn’t fail, Bellamy. You did everything you could for her. You came to the ground for her. You can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved. Your mother would be proud of the man you’ve become. I know I am.” Michelle looked at him. Bellamy remained silent for a few seconds. She wasn’t sure he appreciated Kane mentioning his mother, and she was right given how he replied.

“You floated my mother.” He then went radio silent, having probably disconnected his radio so as not to hear any more from Kane. Michelle locked eyes with him and she rested her head on his shoulder. He held her against him tenderly. By the time the sun came up, the rain had stopped. They stayed near the radio but didn’t hear from Bellamy or Octavia the whole day and they walked out of the station when they heard the rover drive in camp, slowly approaching as Bellamy came out of the vehicle.

“Still no word from Octavia.” Kane said. Bellamy’s eyes were shining, and he nodded, looking away. “I’m sorry.”

“You can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved.” He looked defeated. And he was, as he quoted Kane’s own words. He then turned his head towards Michelle and walked up to her. They wrapped their arms around each other, his cheek resting against her temple as he held her tightly, his hand grabbing at her waist. She felt his shaky breath against her ear, and he sniffled, sobbing quietly.

By the time it was dawn, a total of 18 people had died from ARS in total. The bodies were wrapped and carried outside and lined up while others built a pire big enough for all the dead and each body was then placed on top of the pire, carefully, and with respect. Some people were gathered by the pire. Michelle glanced at Bellamy next to her. The two of them were standing further away. He was staring ahead of him, his arms crossed, and feeling her gaze, he turned his head towards her. She put a comforting hand on his shoulder, hating that he felt so guilty, as though he hadn’t only failed his sister but everyone else as well. He tilted his head forward.

“I know it took courage to be outside with us today,” Jaha spoke, holding the flame with which he would set fire to the pire. “to stand together now in the face of grave danger and grave tragedy. On the ark, rain like this was only a dream. Now it’s a nightmare, because we know it could turn at any second and kill us, just like it did to 18 of our brothers and sisters, who we honor today among them, Erin, Samuel, and Louis. May we meet again.”

“May we meet again.” They all repeated in unison. Jaha lowered the torch, and the flames licked the logs as Jasper walked past Bellamy and Michelle.

“Too many funerals, too little time.”

“Show some respect for the dead.” Bellamy disapproved of his careless attitude. Michelle agreed with him, though she couldn’t care less about Jasper to be honest. She brought her back to her body and crossed her arms in the same fashion as Bellamy.

“What for? They don’t mind.” He slowed down his pace to look at him over his shoulder and kept on walking. He shrugged, walking backwards, when Bellamy asked where he was going. He was leaving, just like this, no chem tent in case of black rain, nothing. Bellamy called out to him and after being ignored a couple times, he jogged after Jasper. Michelle stayed where she was, watching the pire as the flame grew taller. Hearing Bellamy keep on calling Jasper’s name, she looked at him. He was running after Jasper as the latter nonchalantly walked out of camp. She didn’t think it was a big deal, knowing they would be back soon, and they would be safe anyway – Bellamy was equipped and had everything they might need, including a chem tent, in his backpack. She just hoped Jasper’s carelessness wouldn’t get Bellamy in harm’s way.

She eventually walked in the station, going to rest in their bedroom as she wasn’t exactly needed anywhere. Taking off her jacket, she let herself fall on the bed and looked at the names she had written inside; Michelle Cartwig, Jonathan Cartwig, her maternal grandfather, Aolani Kealoha, her great grandmother, whose name was quite beautiful though she had no idea what it might mean in Hawaiian and the name at the top, the original and first owner of this piece of clothing, a former US Navy, John R. Kealoha, her great great grandfather. She didn’t know much about those ancestors of hers but at least she knew their names and where they came from, unlike the people on her father’s side, where she only knew her grandmother, Vera, who used to keep this weird tree around which people would gather as if it were a religious symbol or something.

She had heard a number of things about her mother’s side, but she never met any of them. They were all dead before Michelle was born. She knew that John R. Kealoha was the ancestor through which she had native Hawaiian ancestry, and he married a Chinese immigrant. They had their daughter, Aolani, on the Ark, so Michelle’s great grandmother was the first generation to be born and raised in space. She was the first to inherit her father’s jacket and became an Ark guard as soon as she was old enough to, following in her father’s footsteps. She climbed the ladder and became a higher up in the guard. Later in her life, she met Michael Cartwig, to whom Michelle owed her last name, another man of the American Station, of British descent, and together they had her mother, who joined the guard like her mother, and then became a member of the council on the Ark, where she eventually met Kane, and there she was. Michelle had been told all this by her mother – aside from who her father’s was – as well as the fact that her name had been inspired by her grandfather’s. Michelle had always loved to hear about her family’s history. Maybe it compensated for how little she knew of her father’s identity and family.

Cheering, rock music was playing in the hangar when Michelle walked in, looking around, wondering what was going on in there. If there was something like a party going on, maybe Jasper was back, and therefore Bellamy so she wandered around the room, looking for either of them, but specifically the latter. She saw them walk in a minute later through the same door she walked in through. She stopped in her tracks and waited for them to get closer. Bellamy noticed her and she walked towards him. He seemed to have no idea what was going on but neither did she, so they followed Jasper. He looked at the two of them, but they didn’t look that into it. Bellamy sighed at his invitation to come along.

“Everyone’s gonna die, guys. We can go out like them…” He motioned towards the sick people resting on the mattresses behind them and turned to the side where the rest of them were partying. “Or like us. The ending’s the same, but who says the journey had to suck?” He walked away and started shouting and the crowd cheered, raising their glasses full of alcohol. Bellamy and Michelle watched them drink and dance around, still pondering whether they should leave or join them. Michelle shrugged and turned to Bellamy. He wasn’t too convinced at first but let her hold his hand and bring him over to where the party was. Jasper cheered upon seeing them arrive.

“Michelle, the voice of reason! Good idea. Let someone else save the world for once.” He laughed, handing them two cups filled with what Michelle thought was alcohol at first, but it turned out to be very different. They drank it dry, and she chuckled, wondering what was in there. It turned out to be hallucinogenic tea made by Niyah with the same beans they ate back at the dropship one day, but it was on accident then. They were doing it on purpose now, to have some fun while the world ended outside.

After going to Polis, Jaha, Kane and Monty returned the next night and everyone gathered around Jaha in the hangar as he told them the news – they had found the actual Second Dawn bunker. Michelle couldn’t believe it was true this time around, after how disappointing the first bunker was, with all these corpses everywhere.

“There is an underground aquifer, with a filtration system that is still operational. Some of the water will go to the hydroponic farm. Isn’t that right, Mr. Green?” He pointed at Monty, next to Bellamy, Michelle and Harper.

“Most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Almost.” He added the last word in a lower voice, looking at Harper. Michelle had almost forgotten the two were a couple. She hadn’t hung out around Monty much lately. Jaha continued his speech.

“It won’t be easy. There will be plenty of hard work to go around. But together we have struggled. And together we will rise.” The crowd cheered. “Pack your things. Just what you can carry.”

Harper then walked away, and Bellamy approached their friend, “Jaha was right.”

“Yeah, can’t believe it.” Michelle chuckled.

Monty turned towards them, “Got a lot of gear to pack. Sure you two aren’t too hung over?”

“You judging us, Monty?” Bellamy asked, at first thinking he wasn’t serious, but it turned out he was.

“A little.”

“There was no hope. Now there’s hope. Let’s go.” He concluded with a smile, and the three of them went to find Jasper on the other side of the hangar. He rose his cup at him with a tight smile. “Give him a minute. They’ll figure it out when we take the still.”

“There’s one in the bunker.” He then said as they left. They went their separate ways and Bellamy and Michelle passed by their bedroom to pack their things before going to take care of packing all the gear in the armory. They later found out that while most of them were packing, getting ready to take off to Polis, Jasper and a little over a dozen people had locked themselves in the hangar. The guard tried to force it open, but it was jammed, as all the other doors to the hangar were, and couldn’t be opened from their side. Michelle stood right behind Bellamy and Monty; her arms crossed over her chest. She wasn’t a part of the guard – she was also the only one present not wearing the black guard uniform – though she did often go on missions as if she were, because she was trustworthy and a good shot, but unlike the lot of them, she wasn’t exactly allowed to carry a gun inside the camp, but in anycase, she was there at the moment because she was sticking by Bellamy’s side.

“This is the door to blow.” The guard showed the door behind him.

“How many gas canisters do we have?” Jaha enquired.

“You can’t be serious.” Bellamy looked at him in disbelief, disapproving of the mere thought of using the gas canister.

“In Mount weather, we beat the gas by using water. Jasper will be ready for that.” Monty added.

“Just slow down. Let me talk to them.”

“Bellamy, we have over 400 people ready to march.” The former chancellor wasn’t in the mood to talk. He clearly saw this all ordeal as a huge waste of time. Jasper stumbled towards the door, drunk, and a gun in his hand – apparently Harper’s, and it was apparently not the only gun they might have in there. Jasper’s face got close to the glass, and he laid his hand flat on the surface with DNR written on his palm – do not resuscitate. Michelle stared at the message on his hand.

“They wanna die in there.” Bellamy crossed her gaze before turning to the door, pressing the coms’ button to try and talk to Jasper, asking him to put the gun down and open the door but they weren’t coming out.

“This is insane.” Monty made Bellamy move aside. “Are you really willing to die, when there’s a way to live? Are they?”

“That’s just it. We don’t think it’s a way to live.”

“Just go. Please.” Harper appeared behind Jasper, begging them to leave them alone. Jaha showed his impatience as he told the other guard to set the charge on the door and warned the rest not to fire unless fired upon. Bellamy rose his voice, not wanting the situation to escalate.

“No. Ok, just— just wait.” The explosive charge timer was activated. There was less than 2 minutes before it blew up the door. Monty walked away, dejected knowing that his best friend and girlfriend wanted to die. “Jasper, people will get hurt. I know you care about that.”

“If you don’t want anyone anyone to get hurt, don’t open the door.” They heard shouting over the coms as he walked away, going back to the party. Jaha approached the door, calling out to Jasper by his last name.

“Mr Jordan, I will not leave children here to die.”

“You sent them down to die.” Bellamy confronted him. “The difference now, is that they have a choice. And so do you.”

“This is what they want.” Michelle nodded, backing him up and as she said earlier, they wanted to die in there. She didn’t see why they should force them out of the hangar if they didn’t want to be saved.

“They’re wasted. They don’t know what they want.” Monty argued, frowning. Jaha looked through the glass at the people on the other side of the door and told the guards to stand down. The one that had set up the charge took it down and the group left but Monty insisted. “You can’t.”

“I’m sorry, son. Bellamy and Michelle are right. We can’t save them if they don’t want to be saved.” And on those words, he walked away, leaving the three of them in the hallway.

“If Octavia was in there, would you let her stay?”

“If Octavia was in there… At least I’d get to say goodbye.” He shrugged, his eyes getting slightly shiny at the mention of his sister, and he left with Michelle. Monty stayed behind, probably still wanting to try to talk to Jasper and Harper. Everyone had grabbed their bags, walking towards the exit as Bellamy reminded them of the threat of black rain and that while the rain falling outside at the moment was regular rain, it could turn acidic and radioactive any moment, and to stay near the person with their assigned chem tent. It wouldn’t be too hard for Michelle since the person with her assigned chem tent was Bellamy himself. Michelle stood by Bellamy as they let everyone walk past and looking back, they saw Jasper and Harper standing there. “Not too late to change your mind.”

“Yes, it its.” Jasper spoke. “You can still stay, you know?”

“I’m not a quitter.” He gave him a friendly smile. Jasper’s eyes went to Michelle, and she knew he wondered what she thought about this.

“Tried to quit once…” She softly shook her head, adding a light, joking tone to her words. She felt Bellamy glancing at her. They had never really talked about it, but she did try to kill herself at some point during her solitary confinement, and she had a scar on her arm as an eternal reminder of it and Bellamy had seen it before but because she never brought it up, he didn’t, out of respect for her. That was maybe the reason why she understood Jasper’s choice so well – they wanted to go out on their own accord, and so did she, instead of waiting to be floated. “didn’t really work out for me.”

“Thanks for understanding.” Jasper grinned, pleased to see they accepted their decision.

“Where’s Monty?” Harper then asked.

“Unloading the rover. We’re leaving it behind for you, by the way. He didn’t say goodbye?” Bellamy wondered. She didn’t say anything else and shook her head.

“Take care of him for us, will you?” She chuckled, her voice shaking as though she was about to cry. Michelle bit her lower lip, glancing at Bellamy. He gave his promise he would and hugged her before turning to Jasper, sighing heavily. Michelle and Harper shared a brief hug as well. They had never been close friends, but it didn’t make it any less sad for Michelle. Jasper’s response to Bellamy telling him “May we meet again” was even sadder. They wouldn’t meet again.

“Whatever the hell you want.” They looked at each other and Jasper laughed as they embraced. Bellamy stepped back and Michelle stepped forward, hugging Jasper as well before the two left, walking out of the station for good. There would be no turning back and they would never see these people ever again. She didn’t really know most of them personally, but they were some of the original 100 sent to the ground in the very beginning, people she survived with for weeks.

It was already dark when the 400 or so people who had left Arkadia arrived in Polis. Bellamy and Michelle met in the tower with Clarke as she told them of the situation – after the black rain recently, there was now going to be a conclave. One final conclave, in which one warrior from each clan would fight until only one remained, and the winner’s clan took the Second Dawn bunker for themselves, ensuring their survival when praimfaya came, dooming everyone else. They knew it was practically hopeless but as Clarke put it “we fight, or we die.”

But some hope returned when they saw, as they looked at the city which would soon turn into a warzone, a figure approaching on a horse – Octavia.

[To be continued…]  

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Published (08/20/2024) by Andrea

Taglist:  @mirellef2001

[mushroompollution]

Chapter 41: the Sablier Arc part 7

chapters: 35 || 36 || 37 || 38 || 39 || 40

read the manga: imgur || mangaread (ad warning)

This chapter opens on the Duke Rufus Barma, surriunded by a pile of books deep in his ancestor's grand library. He reads a passage that details the 100-year rebirth cycle that their society's angel religion believes, that once a soul is freed from its body by death, it rests for 100 years, then returns to the world for a new journey.

Finally, he's found his ancestor Arthur Barma's notebook.

Back in Sablier, Oz is having a hard time comprehending everything that's happened.

Elliot and Leo cry out for Oz to stop as he holds out his hand to summon that scythe again. But just as that ominous pressure collects around Oz, a rock comes flying from somewhere else, pinging him in the head and breaking him from his trance.

Elliot and Leo are shocked and confused by the interruption, and look up to find Alice standing confidently on a ledge nearby. She joins the trio, and chastises Oz for wandering off, though she had been the first. She asks what happened, and Oz suddenly looks sad. It's unusual to see that boy cry, so Alice tries to cheer him up in the way she learned from Sharon.

Elliot comments thst the rain is getting harder, they should hurry, find Gilbert, and head back. But Alice says the rain is refreshing and wonders why it means they need to leave. The rain will wash away the haze that rises from the crater, she says as she throws her arms to the sky, dancing in the rain. It's funny, Oz thinks. He really hates the rain right now, but seeing her so happy makes his chest feel warm.

The scene is interrupted as Gilbert comes into view, carrying Xerxes Break on his back, who says he's humiliated to be carried by Gil of all people. Elliot and Leo rush over, asking if either of them are hurt. No, Break says, it's just a consequence of overusing the power of his Chain.

Oz approaches Gilbert more hesitantly than that pair.

Gilbert apologizes for chasing after Oz's dad and says he wanted to beat him up. Oz says that's great, because he had though Gil would kill that man for sure. Oz tells his servant that he's alright, but. Ah. It does hurt.

All seems to finally be well. But when Elliot turns around, he finds Break collapsed, completely unconscious on the ground.

We fade into a flashback of the conversation Break had had with Lottie Baskerville previously. Break says he won't hurt them anymore, that he'll let them live. He looks at Zwei and recognizes the Baskerville as Echo, Vincent's valet, who had disobeyed her master to save Sharon Rainsworth's life once.

He throws a hand against the rock where Lottie rests, trapping her as he leans in to ask a question.

What the hell was that about, Lottie wonders as she walks through the ruins of the deepest part of the crater. As she passes through a cloud of the dark haze, the scenery changes. Suddenly, she's standing in a chamber of stone arches and one giant, closed gate. The same chamber where Oz had been confronted by the memory of Glen Baskerville.

Zai Vessalius has been waiting for her here.

As they speak, that giant gate creaks open on its own, and Lottie's eyes light up. Perfect timing! Another of their family is returning from the Abyss. She watches with hope and a soft expression as a young girl, no older than 10 or 11 with a tattoo carved into half her face, crawls out of the darkness of Abyss.

The young Baskerville, Lily, asks how long it's been. Lotti explains to her that it's been 100 years. They had been killing everyone on their master Glen's order when the city was swallowed by Abyss. That that night is now called the Tragedy of Sablier.

Far away, Rufus Barma meets with the Duchess Sheryl Rainsworth to discuss his new findingings. He recalls the legend of the 100-year cycle, and says just because it's a religious rumor, doesn't mean it couldn't be true. Especially for someone like Glen Baskerville.

He says that the Baskervilles should be drawn to their master's presence by instinct, able to find him anywhere on earth. However, according to his ancestor's notebook, Jack had worked with Arthur Barma to create a way to seal Glen's soul.

As he speaks, the ground begins to tremble violently, felt all the way in Sablier, as Fang Baskerville destroys the first of those sealing stones.

[oyeedraw-arts]

The Humors of It (HOI) AU FAQ

Hi all! This comic got quite a nice traction and I'm very grateful everyone who has been reading it so far and rooted for me over the past few months! Thank you again! For a quick guide I jotted down a FAQ for the comic based on some fruequent asks (THANK YOU!!) and some information I thought would be useful to answer. I'll keep editing this post as things come up.

What is this comic? Eda was 10 minutes early with busting the kids out of Belos' mindscape. Thanks to a few other events going differently, someone else also got pulled out along with the two teenagers - the inner Belos still disguised as his kid self!

So is this a kid fic? No. :)

What to know in advance? This is a canon divergent FAN comic, might contain crossovers. Some (up coming) imagery and themes might be disturbing, viewer discretion advised. Suitable audience is 15 and up. Please, keep in mind that the comic's main character is a traumatized witch hunter (wannabe) from the 1600s. Otherwise have fun humiliating pee paw in the comments and the tags.

How often do you post? I try to keep a weekly schedule of 1 to 3 pages. I sometimes go on hiatuses to recharge and attempt to build a back log. Posting usually on Thursday.

For the rest click the read more! :)

How long will this comic be? My initial plan is to finish 7 chapters of the comic. That's gonna be anywhere between cc 65 to 80ish pages. Gonna take a break after it and see what else gets my fancy. If I keep updating after chapter 7, I'm going to divide the story into parts/books based on story arcs.

What's the current story arc? The immediate consequences of Belos getting pulled out of his mindscape and original body.

How closely will the comic follow canon? I'll keep some events as fixed points, but we might end up somewhere wildly different than the show. Day of Unity is still a thing and King, Luz and Hooty still go finding King's dad. The rest is up in the air.

Will you put "[example here]" in the comic? Very unlikely. However, please do feel free to make your own speculations and ideas based on the comic. If you created any media inspired by my comic I'd love to hear about them.

What happened to Belos' old body? It's back in the castle still in one piece. That's all you need to know for now. :)

Will Belos' comatose body get up and walk around on it's own? Wait and see. ;)

IS FLAPJACK GONNA B OK IN THIS AU??? Yes.

Any ships in here? Eda/Rain obviously. Will contain elements of Terra/Belos (NO LEMON WITH THE KID, SHOO). No, Tattoo au Belos has a boyfriend. Vitimir/Hettie if I get around to their scenes. Huner/Willow and Luz/Amity. NOTE: shippy content only on appropriate story beats; please don't be pushy.

Citrus scale? No lemons. :(

Sheepy? Sheepy.

[searchingwardrobes]

No Wives, No Mothers, No Lovers: 4/7

Two months since the last update is actually not that bad for me, haha. Thank you to everyone who is sticking with this fic. And Marta, I have a little surprise for you in this chapter. I hope you like the character I introduce here - she should sound familiar ;)

Summary:   He must be hallucinating. Because Emma Swan is supposed to be in Miami, Florida where he left her. Emma Swan isn’t supposed to be on this rocky stretch of beach, completely drenched, and wearing a ball gown of all things. A Lieutenant Duckling AU (sort of) in which Emma is a siren who isn’t supposed to fall in love with a human.  

Length: about 3k in this chapter

Rated: T

Previous Chapters: One | Two | Three

Also on Ao3

Tagging (please let me know if you would like to be added or removed): @teamhook @kmomof4 @jrob64 @xhookswenchx @winterbythesea @thisonesatellite @welllpthisishappening @spartanguard @ohmakemeahercules @tiganasummertree @sparlecorn93 @sals86 @pirateprincessofpizza @xarandomdreamx @zaharadessert @huntressandlioness1 @jamif @undercaffinatednightmare @onceratheart18 @sparlecorn93 @sals86 @pirateprincessofpizza @xarandomdreamx @zaharadessert @huntressandlioness1 @iverna @jonesfandomfanatic​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​

Emma and Killian dance to a string of fifties rock and roll songs as rain pelts the roof of the studio. She accepts the slow dances easily now, tucked against him with her cheek against his shoulder. The rain begins to slow as they sway to “Earth Angel.”

“Emma,” Killian says softly against her hair.

She lifts her gaze to his, her expression tender and relaxed. 

“There’s somewhere else I wanted to take you, if that’s okay. The rain’s not so bad now.”

She smiles at him as she nods her head. He turns off the music, pockets his phone, and then the two of them gather up the remains of their lunch. Killian finds an abandoned umbrella in a dusty corner, and he exits the studio with Emma on his arm. She leans in close to keep herself out of the rain. It’s still coming down steadily, but the wind has died down. 

Their destination is only two storefronts away from the dance studio. Killian opens the door for Emma, and a bell jingles as she dashes in out of the rain. Killian follows, shaking the raindrops from the umbrella. The bookstore is cozy and warm, and the proprietress comes towards them with an eager smile. 

“Killian Jones, what a pleasure on such a gloomy day.”

“Marta,” Killian greets her, “I’m showing my friend here around Storybrooke. No tour is complete without visiting Once Upon a Time.” 

Marta blushes and waves away his compliment. “That’s very sweet of you.” Then she turns to Emma. “Introduce me to your friend.”

“Marta, this is Emma, a friend from college. Emma, this is Marta, owner of the best bookstore in the world. She was the first friend I made when I came to this town as a lonely little boy. She introduced me to Neverland, Narnia, Middle Earth, and a dozen other magical realms.”

A beaming smile fills Marta’s face. “Killian devoured books as quickly as I could recommend them. Are you a fellow book lover, Emma?”

Emma scribbles on her notepad, and Killian explains to Marta that she is mute but can still hear. The woman takes it in stride as she reads what Emma has jotted down. 

“You met Killian at the library?” Marta laughs. “Well, that definitely is a good sign.” Then she leans conspiratorially towards Killian. “I wouldn’t let her go if I were you.”

Killian clears his throat awkwardly as he feels his face warm. “Well, um, I wanted to show Emma some of my favorite spots in the store.”

“Sure, sure, go right ahead. I’ll be around if you need me.”

“Thank you, Marta.”

The woman returns behind the counter, and Killian leads Emma to the back of the store with a gentle hand to the small of her back. It’s the children’s section, and one corner of it is filled with a giant wooden tree covered in fabric leaves. A hole is cut in the base of the tree, and inside are piles of pillows. Fairy lights are strung inside to provide light for reading. He motions for Emma to crouch down with him and crawl inside. It’s a tighter fit than it was for him as a child, and he and Emma’s feet stick out of the hole. 

“I spent hours here when we first moved to Storybrooke,” he explains. “I was small for my age, a bit of a nerd, and an outsider on top of everything else. I ran away from some bullies one day on my walk home from school and hid from them inside this tree. When I dared to peek out, Marta was there with a copy of Peter Pan and assurances that no one would bother me.”

Emma jots quickly on her notepad. How old were you?

“Seven. My mother left my father with nothing but the shirts on our backs. My grandfather told her not to run off with Brennan Jones, that he couldn’t be trusted, but she did it anyway. So when she brought us to Storybrooke, her hometown, she wasn’t sure my grandfather would let us stay. But he did.”

What was he like?

“A man of few words, a bit gruff, but kind. He’s the one who taught Liam and I to sail and to fish. Losing him was my first experience with real grief. I was twelve.”

I’m so sorry.

Killian lowers his gaze to his lap for a moment, unsure how to receive Emma’s sincere gaze and scribbled sentiments. Then he inhales, runs a hand through his hair, and exhales. He flashes Emma his most charming grin.

“But enough about me, Swan. I want to hear all about you. Tell me a story - about yourself.”

Emma’s brow furrows as she makes a sweeping gesture towards her notepad. Killian gently takes it from, as well as the pen, and sets it aside. 

“I want you to speak freely. I realize I only know a random word here and there in ASL, but I want to hear you. Tell me a story, Emma, please?”

She rolls her eyes at his pleading but begins to sign anyway. She’s hesitant at first, but then she seems to lose herself in the story she’s telling. Her hands move rapidly, and her face is expressive. Sometimes her movements are harsh and jerking, sometimes rapid and exuberant, and other times flowing and melancholy. Her eyes at times sparkle with joy, then other times flood with the deepest sadness. At the end she points at him, and a peaceful smile lifts the corners of her mouth. Then she drops her arms to her sides and shrugs a bit sheepishly. 

“That was beautiful,” he whispers. “I had no idea what you were saying, and yet I could feel the ups and downs of your emotions.”

A single tear slips down Emma’s cheek, and he reaches up gently to wipe it away with his thumb. His hand lingers there, tracing the line of her jaw. Emma gently grasps his wrist in both her hands and leans into his touch. The moment stretches, filled with a deep sense of peace even as Killian’s heart pounds in his chest. She takes the hand cupping her cheek and presses it to where her own heart beats a steady rhythm. He isn’t sure how, but he understands completely. She’s thanking him for seeing her, for hearing her in a way that goes beyond words. He feels as if he’s tethered to her, a thin yet strong cord binding his heart to hers. It’s so overwhelming, he has to break the tension. He waggles his eyebrows at her teasingly. 

“And I also think you said something about me there at the end? How I’m devastatingly handsome?” 

Emma shakes her head, but her smile is teasing. She releases his hand and leans back against the pillows. 

“So, Swan? Are you ready to have the best clam chowder in the entire state of Maine?”

***********************************************************

“What do you mean you’ve never had seafood?” Killian can’t keep the incredulity out of 

his voice as he leans back in a booth at Smee’s Seafood Shack. “You lived in Miami for two years, didn’t you?”

Emma shrugs, her arms crossed atop the laminated menu.

Killian shakes his head. “You can’t live in a coastal town for any length of time and not have seafood Swan.” Then he frowns. “Wait, you’re not allergic are you?”

Emma shakes her head then scribbles on her notepad. 

I guess it would affect my friendship with a fisherman if I was allergic to seafood, wouldn’t it? 

“Of course not,” Killian assures, “but, uh . . . it would make this a really bad choice for dinner.”

Not allergic. It just felt  - Emma pauses, chewing on her bottom lip in a very distracting way - weird. I guess?

“Why would it be weird?”

Because they swim, I guess. And aren’t sea creatures rubbery? And salty?

Killian laughs, at the swimming comment at least. The rubbery and salty thing he’s heard before. 

“As to the texture, it depends on what seafood you eat. As for the salt, I think that has more to do with how it’s cooked.” 

I’m willing to try something new. You choose.

Since he isn’t sure what type of fish Emma, as a novice, will enjoy, he gets an assortment: clam chowder and crab cakes for appetizers, and fried cod filets and grilled salmon for the main course. Along with the sides, it's a lot of food, but Killian has barely spent a dime since coming home, and Smee always gives the Jones brothers a discount anyway, since they supply most of his “catches of the day.”

To Killian’s delight, Emma tries all of it, and the look on her face says she finds it all delicious, too. The clam chowder is definitely her favorite, while - according to the note she scribbles - the salmon is just “okay.” They share a slice of cheesecake to end the meal, and Emma leans back in her chair with a look of sleepy satisfaction. 

“Told you,” he can’t help saying with a wink. 

The napkin she throws at him is worth it. 

************************************************************************

The rain is long gone as Killian and Emma stroll down the boardwalk away from the restaurant. Their hands brush as they walk, and he isn’t sure who moved first, but soon their fingers are laced together. Emma steps closer, loops her other arm through his, and rests her head on his shoulder. He turns to brush his lips across her temple. 

“There’s one more place I want to take you, Emma.” 

Their destination is just outside of town, and the two of them fall into comfortable silence as they walk. That’s one thing he’s always enjoyed about being around Emma: quiet isn’t awkward. It’s not just her muteness, either. It’s a sense of belonging, as odd as that seems. 

“Here it is,” Killian says softly into the night.

He turns her to face the blue, beach-side Victorian. The moon is full, the stars are a bright splash across the dark blue sky, and moonbeams reflect off the surf behind the house. All of it make the house look as if it were lit up; dazzling to behold. Emma lets go of his arm and steps forward, running her hand along the white picket fence in front and gazing up at the house in wonder. 

“It was my grandfather’s,” Killian explains. “This was where we lived when I first moved to Storybrooke.”

He guides her through the low front gate and up the porch steps. Emma’s eyes widen as he takes a key from his pocket. 

“The house is mine and Liam’s now,” he explains to her. “He left it to my mother when he passed, and now she’s left it to us.”

Killian unlocks and opens the front door, then guides Emma inside. The house is completely furnished, including a telescope set up in front of the living room’s bay window. 

“It’s an Airbnb right now,” Killian explains, “while we figure out what to do with the place. The memories are just too painful right now to live in it.”

He isn’t sure what Emma is thinking as she slowly walks through the dark and silent living room, her hands ghosting along the furniture. He flips on a lamp, giving them a bit more light, but anything more somehow feels wrong. It’s as if they’re both holding their breath in a sacred space. 

Killian shows her the kitchen, then the upstairs with an impressive four bedrooms and three bathrooms. The master is the most jaw-dropping with its own set of bay windows. They take the narrow stairs up to the finished attic as well, and Emma drops onto the window seat of the one bedroom with a smile of delight. 

“I don’t know if you noticed from outside,” he tells her, “but this is an actual turret. Like a castle for a princess or something. As a matter of fact, this was my mother’s room as a teenager. They finished it for her.”

Killian guides Emma back downstairs to the ground floor, and then out the back to the wrap-around porch. The sea is only a short pebbled path away, and he guides her down the steps and down to the end of the path. They’re still standing just at the edge of the beach where the sea grass tickles their ankles when Killian turns her gently to face him, taking both her hands in his. 

“Emma, there’s a reason I brought you here tonight. I know communicating isn’t easy, but I feel like you and I still understand one another. I may not know where you come from, who you are, or  . . . what you are . . .”

That last bit was a gamble, he knows. The way Emma’s head snaps up and her eyes widen in shock tells him that his suspicions are correct. She pulls away a little, but he holds more tightly to her hands.

“And I won’t ask you to tell me, Emma, don’t worry. But I can see that you’re sad. You’re scared too, aren’t you?”

She lowers her gaze to the sea grass, and he has to gently lift her chin so their eyes meet once again. 

“Whatever you’re afraid of, Emma, I want you to have a safe place to run to. That’s why I brought you here. I get the feeling you have to go soon, but this place is here whenever you need a haven. No questions asked. Come and go as you please.”

Emma’s mouth opens in a silent gasp, and she blinks at a sudden moisture in her eyes. He steps forward and cups her face in his hands. 

“We’re connected, Emma. Can’t you feel it? But I won’t expect of you what you can’t give. So this house is yours. I’ll take it off Airbnb. No one will be here to bother you, I promise.” His thumbs caress her cheeks as a smile lifts his lips. “Though I do hope you’ll let me know whenever you’re in town.”

The tears finally spill onto her cheeks, and Killian can no longer resist the pull he feels towards her. He lowers his face and presses his lips to hers. Emma slides her hands up his chest and around his neck as she tilts her head and parts her lips for him. The kiss is both tender and deep with an edge of hunger. Killian buries his fingers in her soft hair as he swipes his tongue against hers. She responds with eagerness, and Killian kisses her more aggressively, drinking her deeply, though he can never get enough of her. 

When they finally part, lips swollen and hair mussed, Emma breathes out one word: “Wow.”

His mind has barely registered that Emma actually spoke when it’s taken over completely by the melody of Emma’s voice. It’s the most enchanting sound he’s ever heard, leaving an ache in his heart for only one thing: the sea. 

He turns toward the crashing waves and begins walking towards them. If he doesn’t reach the water, he’ll die, he’s sure of it. He hears Emma’s voice again beside him, her hands yanking at him frantically. 

“Killian! Killian, wake up! Stop, Killian! No! No, please no!”

Her words are nonsensical to him, though. All he can hear is her music. Calling, calling, calling him out to sea. He knows she’s crying and begging, but he doesn’t understand why. He needs the ocean more than his next breath. 

“I’m sorry, Killian, please, please snap out of it! Don’t go, please don’t go!”

It’s driving him mad now, the way she’s trying to stop him. Why would she? The sea is what he wants, what he desperately needs. He shrugs Emma off, and she falls to her backside in the sand. The surf is crashing against his knees now, but it isn’t enough. The ocean wants to embrace him completely, and he has no desire to fight it.

He plunges beneath the cold waves. The tide is strong, and it sucks him under. Something is dragging him down, down, into the depths. From the dark recesses of his mind, something primal fights back. He doesn’t want to die. 

Then Emma is there, wrapping her arms around him and trying to pull him up to the surface. Funny, he can hear her perfectly even though they’re underwater. She’s crying and begging, but she isn’t begging Killian anymore. 

“Save him,” she pleads, “save him, and I’ll do anything.”

He isn’t sure who she’s talking to, but he swears he feels something powerful and angry swirl around him. 

I don’t want to die, he thinks again. But the ocean is no longer embracing him; it’s crushing him. Then everything goes black. 

[bellshazes]

do it again, director's cut edition because i'm procrastinating writing the last part of the last chapter and it's kind of helpful to review. with luck someone else here will enjoy the behind-the-scenes content as well

chapter 1

The little desk Scar has set up right across from the front door of his studio apartment is covered in them, some of them larger and loose, the smaller ones in what clearly used to be ice cube trays.

no joke this detail is because of a New Uses for Old Things feature that used to be in the magazine Real Simple, which was life hacks before "life hacks" was a term. ice cube tray as a jewelry organizer.

There’s an orange one with smooth, straight-cut sides that fits perfectly in his palm.

i really did write this with the intent of it being the courage crystal (formally established later) but I never have gone back once to check whether it's orange. ditto the green danger detection one later. no one's called me out for it though

it'll never get explicitly said in fic, but they each induce the opposite of their intended effect. bdubs' courage crystal makes him extremely paranoid, etho's danger detection lands him in the hospital, and even tango's rage crystal leaves him mellow and avoidant.

We’ll just go up there and put a little tarp over it,” he’d told Etho when their kitchen ceiling had started to drip. “I’m a professional, it’ll be easy, and we won’t get rained on inside while the landlord takes two weeks to get someone out here."

i think about bdubs' tenure as a general contractor a lot, mostly because i know of very few other people who have opinions about roofs they pass while driving.

and Etho’s always been good with a bow –

historically speaking, anyway; the very first indication that LL!bdubs remembered previous timelines as well.

Etho is wearing his ancient, scuffed-up blue sneakers, and only then because it would have been about sixteen different ladder safety violations to wear the socks and opened toed slippers he constantly wears in the house.

another old joke about etho's diamond booties and/or socks-and-sandals depictions in fanart. i imagine the sneakers as diamond blue high tops befitting a guy who's into pop punk.

“Already hid it while you were in the bathroom,” says Etho, extra chipper. “And now that you mention it, a two-person Twilight Imperium game is tempting –" “I know just enough about that to know you’re just being mean.”

Board games come up again in chapter 2 and 7, but TI usually takes minimum 8 hours to play and is a space-set empire building and turn based strategy tile-building game. I think Tango and Etho are regularly trying to rope friends into playing with them but it's a bit much for most people, and absolutely not viable for a concussed Bdubs. Catan is also stretching it, but I think bdubs has extremely normie board game taste as a path of least resistance.

chapter 2

He knows he died saying Etho’s name, but unlike a normal dream, his death doesn’t wake him up. He has a faint awareness that whatever his death set in motion is still happening out there, somewhere, but he can’t access it anymore, wherever or whenever he is now, in a darkness waiting for the credits to roll. Nothing comes.

the mechanics for what dreams come when, with what level of detail etc., have been winged this whole time. but I definitely struggled to find a way to have bdubs plausibly and selectively remember only the dying, the difficult parts and not his enjoyment of them. there's no hard rules beyond what seems appropriate to the situation - things the crystal might be in synergy with, or bdubs recalling his nether death when he falls from the roof similarly - but I did think about it constantly while writing.

that said, something the characters never fully figure out but bdubs will almost recognize is that the people who were given and gave away the most lives have an easier time remembering:

scar with his crystals and his souls is really unfazed by past life memories (and calls back to hcs7).

tango, who was given many lives for his betting game and was forced to give them away on top of distributing the winnings, reacts on instinct way before he has dreams. when he does, they're messy and violent like bdubs', more tangled with the reality.

etho only ever gave one life for the betting game, and received none. he dreams by proximity and by crystal, by resonance; the dreams contrast and he has mainly good moments.

cleo picks up the dreams easily - her allies also kept bringing her back up to yellow, and she responds at first like tango does, pre-emptively and instinctively. but when she gets a crystal it's off to the races, and it's not so bad because she had a more stable alliance and also she's got joe to call and bdubs to contrast against. she also definitely talks to scott and pearl about it, but it's not relevant for this fic.

bdubs, of course, gave one life and was given several. he had the bad luck to parallel his last life, and so the fic unfolds. you know how it is with past lives

this all probably implies the southlands, post death coffee incident, start having a spate of dreams and skizz and impulse (they are friends, impulse works at the cafe, it's just never been relevant) have a really funny conversation about their parallel friendgroup dramas but i don't feel like i can write most of the southlands confidently, so please use your imagination and possibly tell me about it.

“Say ‘thank you, Bdubs, for graciously offering to buy me coffee,’” hollers Bdubs as he scrambles out of bed. He doesn’t leave any space for Etho to reply. “It’s like I’m not allowed to get a little extra beauty rest now and then, not that I need it of course. If I were any less perfect than I am I’d make them put all that extra crap you hate in there as punishment for your ungraciousness, one of those – what did you call them, Etho, one of those frappucini things –“

I will never let the time Etho said "frappucini appletini" when onboarding Bdubs as a shade-e-ees employee in s7 die. he will never live it down.

Etho hadn’t fought back much, and seemed to enjoy the endless opportunities to accuse Bdubs of photosynthesizing or pretending to mistake him for a large houseplant if he happened to be wearing green, which was often.

this is probably my favorite one-off gag/detail. every single time etho wakes up at noon and walks into the office to see bdubs wearing green and limned in gold by the afternoon sunbeams he makes the exact same photosynthesis plant joke and bdubs reacts exactly the same way and tells him to get a new joke. neither of them ever do.

“You might need to feed Pineapple Pizza for me. And make sure and eat something, will you? Actual food.”

i'm going to be honest, i don't recall whatsoever the rationale for bdubs and etho having a cat is - I inherited it from the original MLL AU posts. but i'm fond of it because bdubs hates cats and etho loves collecting pets and forgetting about them but also practicing talking to himself. she's dear to me anyway

Maybe it’s not fair to resent Etho’s terrorizing when he can look down at his own hands and see someone else’s blood there, dripping from his own sword – but he has never dreamed of hurting Etho.

this bit of hypocrisy was another huge hurdle for writing, lmao. bdubs' kill of tango and insistence he'd never kill etho after killing grian in ep1 show how cavalier he liked to play his own bloodlust, but with imperfect information in this life it's less hypocrisy and more fixating on etho's "killing" of him not because it's murder but because it's betrayal. cleo engages with this deftly later, because she of all people has seen the etho and bdubs trying to kill each other while secretly wanting the other one to survive song and dance more closely than anyone.

“What do you want,” says Cleo, but it’s only her usual level of grumpiness. “Can’t I call you for no real reason?” Bdubs says, extra-sweet. “Well, one reason, but the reason is I just wanted to talk. I’ve missed you so much!” “It is one o’clock on a weekday, Bdubs. Not all of us can set our own schedules.”

my headcanon is that cleo is a taxidermist, which is partially a joke about an au i made with a friend like 7 years ago for a different fandom, but i thought it would be funny with her armor stand ksills. i don't know what a taxidermist daily work life is like and i've avoided having to describe it though. i did interior designer a day in the life research for bdubs and have managed to gloss over etho's work details beyond "computer guy" so that's all you're getting.

“Oh, you’re too kind,” Bdubs had laughed as he built a statue and moved his victory point marker around the next corner. “You’d give up anything for a loyal friend like me, right?”

it's the chapter 2 board game: this time it's kingsburg! you roll dice which allow you to gain the favor of courtiers on the board to build up your city; buildings give you materials or other advantages or best yet, victory points, which are tracked with meeples on the outer rim of the board. i think it's bdubs' compromise of choice because of the medieval and courtier-courting and city-building themes AND you can cockblock people's desired resources with your own rolls. and it's not hard but it's fun. skizz also really enjoys it and tango and etho have more fine taste but also are usually down for it. this has been "board games headcanons with peter"

Intellectually, he knows the dream is pulling from what’s on his waking mind, like Tango’s weird aggression and being a little lonelier now that his and Bdubs’ schedules don’t often line up.

honestly this is my own stance on dreams, despite an enduring involuntary belief in signs and omens, but etho is such a rationalist it fits, and paves the way for the 1% flawed convo he has with scar in LL that i steal from later. but it's also transparently a little self-deluding because reality in these worlds is much weirder.

He had a tendency to come off as standoffish and intimidating, but Bdubs had seen right through him and immediately started calling him a nerd and a softie and stuck to his side.

etho's on record as talking about making videos as a way of improving his speaking skills, which really shows if you go and watch his old content! i was also thinking about (or maybe predicting?? i don't want to take too much credit but this was written at the end of 2021) etho in bdubs' netherite hunting stream saying something about how he used to be the timid one and now bdubs is. they don't change, they just take turns ;)

“Can he? I say that with love, of course,” Scar says hastily at the incredulous raise of Etho’s eyebrow. “Bdubs and I, we go way back – not as far back as you two, but still. What a guy. He’s had a hard time of it lately, though, hasn’t he?”

somewhere in this fic tag is the elaborate au of this au in which bdubs accepts scar's job offer and doesn't move in with etho; that one would be circa the 90s and lead into hcs7, so the resonances build in that direction instead of LL. but etho and bdubs go way back, further.

Scar picks up Jellie from the chair behind his desk before settling into it and repositioning her on his lap. “I don’t want to assume since Grian said he didn’t remember the name but the guy was wearing a bright green windbreaker. Terribly inconvenient for a business like mine.”

if, when I'm done, I revise things I'd like to make it more clear here that scar considers his business one of information more than trinkets. the trinkets are a means to an end of getting favors and intel from people! he likes wheeling and dealing more than anything, but the "business like mine" line could be improved. i'm not allowed to revise until it's all published, though.

Etho pockets the little bead. “I’m not signing anything, but if you see Bdubs, will you let him know I held up my end of the bargain?”

a missed opportunity to drive home the resonances here, but this is recalling etho pointedly getting out of signing the contract he makes bdubs sign when he boogey fishing rod kills scar.

Before he can respond, Etho’s phone goes off and Grian visibly startles, hopping back a little bit. Which seems like an overreaction, but Etho does forget how creepy his alarm tone of ominously ringing bells is if you’re not expecting it.

his alarm tone is 13, of course, and it comes up at the board game shop later. incidentally i also for a while set my own feed the cat alarm to 13 when i figured out how to use spotify for phone alarms, and sometimes i still accidentally turn that alarm back on and jumpscare myself irl. i'm very competent.

Bdubs, presumably, will have to come home to sleep at some point and the coffee will ensure Etho is awake to see him. One way or another, they’re going to make this work.

this line is specifically echoing bdubs saying they're gonna make this work during the LL office scene, and will foreshadow what etho does to make things come to a head in the final chapter. but that's spoilers ;)