#here's the timeline of events. it takes me what? six months to do a first draft

[krytus]

a week ago i was ready to give up on kings blood and today i just finished outlining each new chapter of the restructuring/rewrite im doing 😌.....

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Napoleonville [Chapter 2: The Jailhouse]

Series Summary: The year is 1988. The town is Napoleonville, Louisiana. You are a small business owner in need of some stress relief. Aemond is a stranger with a taste for domination. But as his secrets are revealed, this casual arrangement becomes something more volatile than either of you could have ever imagined.

Chapter Warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), dom/sub dynamics, historical topics including war and discrimination, smoking, blasphemy, kids, parenthood, alcoholism, y'all know exactly who is in jail come on now, Pizza Hut, a wild ex-husband appears!

Word Count: 7k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: @marvelescvpe @toodlesxcuddles @era127 @at-a-rax-ia @0eessirk8 @arcielee @dd122004dd @humanpurposes @taredhunter @tinykryptonitewerewolf @partnerincrime0 @eltherevir @persephonerinyes @namelesslosers @burningcoffeetimetravel-fics @daenysx @gemini-mama @chattylurker @moonlightfoxx @huramuna @britt-mf @myspotofcraziness @padfooteyes @aemonddtargaryen @trifoliumviridi @joliettes @darkenchantress @florent1s @babyblue711 @minttea07 @libroparaiso @bluerskiees

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged! 🥰🧁

Amir is sitting at the kitchen table and icing peach cobbler cupcakes; he has a single white flower from a dogwood tree poked through one of his cornrows. He wears a short sleeve button-up shirt with a kaleidoscopic geometric pattern, high-waisted khaki shorts, and eyeglasses with large rectangular, tortoiseshell frames. He has one leg crossed over the other and is kicking it absentmindedly as he works, a habit he’s had since long before you met him in your 9th grade English class. The microwave is humming. Walk This Way is blaring from the little pink boombox.

“Ho, I mean it this time, I gotta get the hell out of this town.” Amir uses a fork to place a small peach wedge—sauteed in butter, sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg, and vanilla—atop the swirl of buttercream frosting, then sprinkles the cupcake with cinnamon before moving on to the next. “Guess what some inbred neanderthal swamp creature did last night. They busted a window out of my car again.”

“I told you to take that thing off it.” Amir has a homemade bumper sticker on his Ford Escort that reads, in holographic rainbow cursive: Fuck Ronald Reagan (not literally)!

“That war criminal can let 50,000 people die of AIDS but I belong on America’s Most Wanted for exercising my First Amendment rights?”

“I know you’re not wrong. You know you’re not wrong. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“To be afraid is to behave as if the truth were not true. Bayard Rustin said that.”

“And I’m sure he was a very smart man, but he didn’t have to live in Napoleonville.” The microwave beeps, and you remove the sweet potato inside with an oven mitt and place it on the counter alongside the others. This is a trick you’ve learned: they’re so much easier to peel and slice once they’ve been microwaved a bit, thirty seconds for a small potato, one minute for a larger one. “You want me to ask Willis to do a stakeout or something?”

“He might be the one committing vandalism.”

You frown down at the sweet potatoes as you peel them over the cutting board and toss the skins into a bowl so Cadi can feed them to the squirrels later. You doubt Willis is responsible, but one of his friends very well could be.

Amir sighs, acquiescing, wistful. “Six months from now I’ll be in San Francisco.” Yes, he will; he’s been saving up for years. The thought of him leaving is practically apocalyptic. You can’t envision a future without Amir. It’s like the very worst version of when you’re a kid and some event—Christmas, your birthday, summer break, prom—is so glimmeringly monumental that whatever life will exist beyond it is incomprehensible, a haze of other people’s dreams and warnings. Surely you won’t exist in that timeline; surely you will dissolve away once that fateful checkpoint is reached and become nothing but sun and sand.

You don’t tell Amir any of this. You don’t want to make him feel guilty. Instead you tease: “You sure you don’t want to stay and get a job on one of those shiny new oil rigs?”

He laughs as he pipes buttercream frosting onto the last peach cobbler cupcake. His artistic talents far surpass yours, but you bring the baking techniques and recipe ideas. Still, you have always split the bakery profits—however meager they might be—equally. “Yes, how could I possibly pass up the opportunity to lose half my skin in an explosion caused by company negligence? Or inhale toxic fumes, or have my limbs ripped off, or fracture my skull? Or fall off a platform in the middle of the night and be eaten by a gator before anyone bothers to fish me out? I will surely regret all my life choices when I’m lying on the beach in Pacifica next to my new boyfriend who looks like Arnold Schwarzenegger.”

The front door opens. It’s Mr. Fontenot, the town pharmacist. You call out: “Hi there! Come right on in! We’ve got your cake ready. Blue velvet with marshmallow cream and topped with candied blueberries. We read up on how to make them just for you. So thank you kindly for the learning opportunity.”

Since you’re wrist-deep in sweet potatoes, Amir leaps up to retrieve the box. He opens it so Mr. Fontenot can inspect his order. “When you cut into it, you’ll see that it’s a dark royal blue on the inside. Cookie Monster blue, not robin egg blue, just like you wanted.”

“Will ya look at that,” Mr. Fontenot says, beaming down at the cake. Written across the marshmallow cream in blue icing is (in Amir’s most elegant script): Happy 8th Birthday, Corey! “My grandson is going to get such a kick out of a blue cake.”

“He sure is,” Amir agrees. “Now can I talk you into anything else for the party? Some peach cobbler cupcakes, perhaps? Praline brownies? A brown sugar pie? Homemade Fruity Pebbles Rice Krispie Treats? Kids love them…!”

You say once Mr. Fontenot has gone: “He works for the company, you know.”

“Huh? Who?”

“Aemond. He works for Jade Dragon. He’s an engineer.”

“Ho, you are obsessed with that man!” Amir says. “You’ve brought him up, like, four times already!”

“Yeah,” you confess, a humiliation that is futile to deny. Parts of you are still sore from what he did to you; other places are aching for more.

“And you didn’t even get to see the dick?!”

You shake your head as you cut the peeled sweet potatoes into haphazard chunks. Amir puts a pot of water on the stove so you can boil them until they’re soft enough to mash into filling for a sweet potato pie. “Didn’t see it, didn’t touch it…”

“Didn’t lick it, didn’t suck it?”

“Okay, that’s enough, Dr. Seuss. But no.”

“Secret dick, scar on his face, missing an eye…” Amir mutters. “Maybe he’s a veteran who lost his andouille in combat! Yes! That’s it! He was there when we invaded Lebanon or Grenada or Libya and now he’s horribly disfigured and can’t bear the prospect of your inevitable horror and rejection!”

“His andouille is definitely unchopped. I could…uh…tell. Through his jeans.”

Amir closes his eyes and presses his palms together. “Sweet baby Jesus, please send me a gainfully employed big-dicked blonde man too.” He looks at you again. “But he really wouldn’t use it?!”

“Aemond said he wanted me to trust him first.”

“Maybe he doesn’t trust you. Maybe he thinks you might be on the prowl for Shotgun Wedding #2. You should tell him he’s got nothing to worry about in that department. You’ve been on the pill practically since Cadi was born.”

You murmur: “And I will be forever.”

“I know,” Amir says gently, pausing to squeeze your shoulder before taking the sweet potato hunks you’ve sliced already and dropping them in the boiling water. “So! When are you going to call him?”

You startle. “I can’t call him! I called him the first time. Now it’s his turn to call me. I can’t call him again, that would be desperate. Right?” Right?!

“Does he even know your number?”

“He knows my name, and he knows about the bakery. The number is publicly listed, he can find me in the phone book.”

Amir groans. “Lord have mercy, just call him! Pick up that pink phone right there beside the refrigerator and press those cute little buttons and say, loud and proud: Come on over here, big boy, I want to see that traumatized war veteran dick.”

The phone rings. You trip over your own feet as you lunge for it.

Amir snickers. “Pathetic!” He takes over slicing the rest of the sweet potatoes.

“Hello?!”

You hear a deep, slothful drawl; Willis’ family have been bayou people for longer than the United States has been a country. “Hey sugar, you want to bring your favorite ex-husband some dessert?”

You sigh. “Hi, Willis.” From across the kitchen, Amir makes retching noises.

“So what’d ya say? I just had a late lunch and got to thinkin’ of you. Gave me a sweet tooth.”

“Um, I don’t know, we’re really busy right now.” Amir snorts; you’ve had three customers in the last hour. There’s usually a rush first thing each morning and then again around closing time.

“Ya ain’t got time for me? Well, alrighty then. Maybe I won’t have time for you when you need a wild hog chased off your porch or a flat tire changed out there on Route 401.”

This is the eternal dilemma, the balance you wrestle with like a boat in a storm: not making him angry, not letting him get too close. You and Willis don’t have a formal agreement for custody or child support. You’ve worked it out yourselves, and he typically doesn’t make it too difficult. You’ve always felt that appeasement is the wisest course of action. As the elected sheriff of Assumption Parish, Willis Boudreaux is responsible for all criminal investigations, court proceedings, and tax collecting. Even when he was just a deputy, he had plenty of friends at the little white courthouse in the heart of downtown Napoleonville. You’re better off working with him than against him. “Okay, fine, I guess I have a few minutes. What do you want?”

“Why don’t you make a professional recommendation?”

You glance irritably at the kitchen table. “We have brown sugar pie, peach cobbler cupcakes, praline brownies, lemon blueberry cookies, uh, I’ve got half a strawberries and cream cake left in the fridge…”

“Definitely the cake,” Willis says. “I love strawberries. Remember how you fed them to me on the beach when we went to Grand Isle?”

That was…what, eight years ago? Ugh. “Barely.” You like when Willis has a girlfriend; then he mostly leaves you alone. Tragically, he and his most recent fiancé Colleen broke up last month. “I’ll drive the cake over now.” You slam the phone receiver into the base before Willis can respond.

“Let’s kill him,” Amir says.

You laugh. “I’ll consider it.”

“We can feed him to that gator out in the tree row.”

You grab a flat white bakery box off the pile, fold it open, and fetch what remains of the strawberries and cream cake from the refrigerator. “You’ll get that sweet potato pie in the oven if I’m gone for a half hour?”

“Yup. Then I’ll start working on the brown butter oatmeal raisin cookies. Is the recipe…? Oh, I see it, it’s right here on the counter. Got it. Have fun with your awful ex-husband. You sure you don’t want to add a little something special to that cake? Windex? Rat poison? He sure looks like a rodent to me. That nose? Those eyebrows?!”

“Amir, he’s just French.”

“He should be exiled to Saint Helena.”

“I’m going to have to put my own ad in the Bayou Journal,” you say, smiling sadly. “Who’s going to run the shop with me when you’re in San Francisco?”

Amir winks. “Maybe your traumatized, half-blind, hung-like-a-horse war veteran knows how to bake.”

Outside, the gator is sunning herself by the gravel driveway. She’s only about five feet long and dozing with her muddy green eyes closed, jagged upper teeth on display, missing toes here and there, back scarred by boat motors. It’s 90 degrees and sunny, warmth flooding over your bare legs and arms: denim shorts, lime green tank top. You can hear cicadas, doves, chickadees, starlings, goldfinches, ospreys, the benign droning of bumble bees. You throw the white box in the passenger seat and start your Chevy Celebrity, yellow paint, wood paneling, brown velour upholstery. You crank down the windows—the air conditioning is broken, that’s one reason why Willis’ brother was willing to sell it to you so cheap—and turn on the radio: 867-5309 by Tommy Tutone. You pull out onto Route 401, headed northeast towards downtown Napoleonville.

You pass fields of sugarcane and soybeans, shacks and trailers, grass green like emeralds. The hot mid-May air, humid and stagnant, blows through your hair. If the ride was any longer than ten minutes, you’d have needed a cooler for the cake. You find a parking spot on the street outside the Assumption Parish Sheriff’s Office and grab the box containing half a strawberries and cream cake, probably just starting to get melty around the edges. Deputy Melancon is on his way out when you arrive. He holds the glass door open for you.

“Comment ca va, cherie? Is that for me? I hope so!”

“I think your boss would chew your arm off if you tried to get between him and this cake.”

Deputy Melancon guffaws as he ambles towards his police car. “Have fun in there! It’s a zoo today.”

“What…?” But now you can hear the noise coming from inside the building: howling, banging, Willis telling someone to sit down and shut up, his Cajun drawl lethargic and calm. Willis is not a yeller, and you’ve never witness him raise his hands in violence. The being a cop part of his job is the aspect he enjoys the least. But sitting around jawing with his deputies until long after midnight, regaling them with tales of supposed glory acquired while you were home with a screaming baby, scrubbing floors, fixing dinner, still bleeding eight weeks after birth, waiting—because it was all there was to look forward to—for him to walk through the door and shuffle to the couch and collapse there with an ice-cold can of Bud Light in his fist, dripping condensation down his sinewy forearm? That’s what Willis lives for.

Willis is at his desk and grudgingly plodding through an intake form. His sunglasses have been shoved up into his dark curly hair; his hat—which he loathes wearing—is resting atop a mountain of deserted paperwork. There’s a poster of Heather Locklear on the wall along with a dartboard with a cutout of Tommy Lee in the center. There’s a man in one of the three holding cells that you’ve hardly ever seen used. He has slicked-back blonde hair, an aristocratic wisp of a moustache, an unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt and tiny red shorts and thick foam rainbow-patterned flip flops. He’s the person responsible for the ruckus.

“I want my phone call!” the prisoner shouts as he beats his palms against the iron bars. “Hey! Hey, mullet boy! I want my fucking phone call!”

Oddly, the stranger has a British accent. Aemond? you think for a split second. But no; this man couldn’t possibly be related to Aemond. He is short, slouched, soft all over, uncoordinated and uncomposed, pathetic, petulant, innately pitiful. Willis ignores him. He speaks to you instead.

“Bienvenue, sugar. Ya got something sweet for me?”

Obediently—though not entirely willingly—you bring him the white box and set it on his disorganized desk. Willis produces a stack of Styrofoam plates and a Ziploc bag full of plastic eating utensils that he keeps stocked in a drawer specifically for such occasions. He opens the box and sighs euphorically, his eyes on the moist pink cake and layers of whipped cream frosting as if it’s the flesh of a naked woman.

“Hey!” the prisoner shouts, gripping the iron bars and pressing his flushed cheeks flat against them. “Hey! I like cake too!”

“Just what I needed,” Willis tells you, as if the man isn’t there. “Sit down, eat with me.”

“I really don’t have long.”

“Ya got five minutes, don’t you?”

I guess I do. You sit down but don’t take any cake. As Willis cuts himself a slice, you can’t help but watch the man in the holding cell. He stares back at you, a little ashamed, a little defiant, palpably weak. You ask Willis: “What did you book him for?”

“DWI,” Willis says with his mouth full of cake. “Driving While Intoxicated.”

“Huh. You don’t usually pick people up for that.”

Willis points at the prisoner with his fork for emphasis. “This one was very intoxicated.”

The man kicks the bars with his flip flops. “I want my fucking phone call!”

“Ya already used it,” Willis says pragmatically, and nods to something on the floor of the holding cell: an empty, grease-stained Pizza Hut box. The prisoner looks at it, regretful.

“I didn’t know I’d only get one,” he admits. “But also! You ate three slices of my pizza!”

Willis chuckles. “Consider it payin’ your taxes.” Then, to you: “It was tres bien. Meat Lover’s. Ya can’t argue with that.”

“Hey cake lady,” the prisoner says, his prominent eyes weepy, needful, a deep stormy blue. “Can I have a piece? Please? Please? I’m having a rough day here. My flip flops are giving me blisters and your redneck husband committed pizza theft. And I’m in jail.”

“Ex-husband,” you correct him.

“Good for you. Smart cake lady.”

Willis says: “You just settle down and I’ll drive you over to the parish jail as soon as I’m done with my dessert.” He shovels cake into his mouth; he eats like a gator, like a pig.

At last, you cut a portion of strawberries and cream cake—the whipped cream frosting turning thin and runny—and place it on a Styrofoam plate. Then you get up to take it to the prisoner. You have a soft spot for the freaks of the world. You and Amir, you know exactly what it’s like to be freaks.

“Don’t give him no fork or nothing,” Willis says around a mouthful of cake. “I can’t have him tryin’ to kill himself.”

“As if I’d give you the satisfaction, Sasquatch!” the prisoner flings back.

“It’s the Rougarou we got down here, son,” Willis replies, unbothered.

You set the plate on the beige linoleum floor close enough for the prisoner to reach out and drag it to his cell. When you step back, he retrieves the cake and eats it with his bare hands. “Oh, fuck, this is so good!”

You turn to Willis. “Cadi keeps mentioning some horseback riding camp that a bunch of her friends are going to this summer. Can we make that happen?”

“Are you kiddin’ me?! It’s over $300! That’s a new boat!”

“I think it would mean a lot to her.”

“Tell her if she grows her hair back out, maybe she can go next year.” Willis licks pink cake crumbs from his fork. “Why the hell’d she ever get it cut like that?”

You shrug, irritated. “Because she wanted to.”

“Never wears no skirts or dresses, doesn’t care about jewelry, always got dirt on her face…ain’t she gonna want a boyfriend in a few years? Who’s gonna take her out lookin’ like that? Who’s gonna marry her one day?”

“She’s ten years old, Willis.”

“She’s been spending too much time with your little friend, that’s the problem.”

You glare furiously at him, but are interrupted before you can say something unwise. The man in the holding cell has finished his slice of cake. He sucks frosting off his chubby fingers and then yanks on the iron bars in vain. “I gotta go home! I gotta feed my ferret!”

“Guess ya should have thought about that before driving 70 miles per hour in a school zone, Mr.…” Willis glances at the intake form to refresh his memory. “Targaryen. What the heck is that, Italian? Polish? It ain’t French, that’s for sure.”

“It’s Greek, you dumb hick.”

Willis jabs his plastic fork at him. “You oughta watch that, son, or you’ll catch yourself a nasty case of what the liberals call police brutality.”

“He’s a Targaryen?” you ask, stunned. The man in the cell peers back at you with large, ever-wounded, ocean-blue eyes, glassy but not entirely unintelligent.

“So what?” Willis says.

“Willis, those are the oil people. Jade Dragon, the new rigs on Lake Verret? The Targaryens own that company.”

“Well I’ll be damned!” he marvels. “Really? This bon a rien right here, his family are a bunch of millionaires?”

“Yes. And you should probably let him make another phone call.”

“Yeah!” the prisoner says excitedly. “Listen to the cake lady!”

“Alright, alright,” Willis grumbles. “Guess I don’t need no legal trouble.” He picks up the phone off his desk and walks it to the holding cell; the cord stretches just far enough. “Make your damn phone call, gros couillion.”

Mr. Targaryen snatches up the receiver, punches some buttons, and listens as it rings. “Hi. Okay, don’t yell at me. Here’s the deal. I’m at the Assumption Parish Sheriff’s Office and I need you to pick me up. Wait, I said don’t yell at me! Stop yelling!!”

“I really need to get back to the bakery,” you tell Willis as you make for the door. “I’ll see you around, okay—?”

“Hey, sugar.” You stop and wait for him to finish. He’s considering you in that way he does sometimes: mild, thoughtful, vaguely sad, how’d we end up like this? He should know, you’ve told him a hundred times, but that doesn’t mean he understands. “I’m supposed to be gettin’ a new deputy next week. When he shows, I’ll send him down your way, recruit ya another customer. Charge him a little extra if you want. He won’t know no better.”

“Thanks, Willis,” you say, and you mean it. Then you step outside into sun glare and the shrieking of cicadas.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s almost dinnertime when the phone rings. You’re heating up the turtle soup that Amir brought over earlier, stirring the pot as the sky outside turns from a crystalline blue—just like Aemond’s eye—to rust and amber and fool’s gold, as the twilight air breathes into the room warm and ancient. There’s a plump nutria nibbling on grass at the edge of the backyard. Wham’s Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go pipes from the boombox. At first you’re too startled to race for the phone—too terrified that it won’t be Aemond, too afraid to get your hopes up—and you hesitate just long enough for Cadi to answer instead.

“Hello?” she says, and then: “Yeah, school was good.”

Everything sinks in you, heart, spirit, the sweltering pressure of blood ebbing in your veins. Oh. It’s Willis.

Cadi continues chatting away obliviously. “Uh huh. Not really. We learned about robber barons and cannons of Italy. Yeah, captains of industry, that’s what I meant. Uh huh. Yup. It was okay, I guess. Yeah. Today it was pizza, but it’s always shaped like a rectangle. Exactly, no crust. It’s weird. Pepperoni. I always sit with Michelle and Erica. Erica has this totally tubular book about horses she showed us. Yup. I like the Appaloosas the most. Uh huh. Okay, I will. Yup. Bye.” Then she hands you the phone. “For you,” she says, then resumes setting the counter: cups, bowls, spoons, folded Bounty paper towels, dinner for two. You never eat at the kitchen table. The table is reserved for business.

You raise the pink phone receiver to your ear with some uncertainty. What does he want now? “Willis?”

“No,” Aemond says, amused. “Though we’ve been to some of the same places.”

You try not to let the smile fill up your face. You fail. “You were asking Cadi about her day?”

“Evidently.” You don’t know what this means; you don’t ask. “When are you free?”

“I usually have the house to myself on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays.” It’s currently Monday.

“Great. I’ll see you tomorrow. What time?”

“I should be done in the bakery at around 5:00.”

“I’ll be there at 5:01.” Then Aemond hangs up. So do you, your skull suddenly abloom like springtime, colors and promise and warmth. He’s going to be here in less than 24 hours. I really am going to see him again.

You turn towards the counter. “Cadi, what are robber barons?”

“Rich people who are mean to their workers to get as much money as possible. They don’t care about others. They just want more and more and more. They’re very greedy and are never satisfied.”

“So like the Rockefellers and Standard Oil,” you say, thinking back to your high school American History class. It feels like a lifetime ago, it feels like trying to catch lightning bugs in your bare hands.

“Yeah.” Cadi pours herself a cup of Tang. She’s wearing a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles t-shirt and green corduroy pants; her father would not approve. “Or Jade Dragon Energy.”

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s Tuesday, 5:03 p.m., rattling cicadas and golden light like the lit coil of a stove burner. You’re still scrubbing dishes, and Amir is icing the last of the orange creamsicle cupcakes for the next morning. Aemond opens the unlocked front door and strides purposefully into the kitchen: ripped jeans, red t-shirt, Converses to match, Marlboro jacket. He is carrying a neon teal duffle bag that he drops on the sloping wooden floor where the living room meets the kitchen. He is momentarily taken aback when he sees Amir, then recalls what you told him about your friend who helps run the bakery. Aemond pulls out one of the kitchen table chairs and sits. He lifts the glass lid from a cake plate, takes the last peach cobbler cupcake for himself, makes unflinching eye contact with you as he licks the frosting off it with long, slow, sensual drags of his tongue.

Amir says: “Hey Scarface, that’s $1.”

“Amir!” you scold, mortified. But Aemond doesn’t seem offended. He smirks, extracts his black leather wallet from the pocket his jeans, and fishes out four singles. He slides them across the table.

Amir sighs. “This bitch can’t even count.”

“I’m sure he can count,” you say, smiling. “He’s an engineer.”

“He’s mouth-fucking this cupcake right in front of me, he’s clearly unstable.”

Aemond looks to you. His voice is low, imposing. “I need to know what your limits are.”

“Oh my God!” Amir squeaks, bent over the table and icing as quickly as he can.

“Okay,” you tell Aemond. You rinse the pearlescent soap bubbles from your hands, wrists, forearms. Then you step out from behind the counter and watch him, remember him, imagine what will happen next.

He gives the peach cobbler cupcake another lap. Buttercream frosting coats his mischieviously curled lips and then is swiftly licked away. “Can I spank you?”

“Yes.”

Amir mutters to himself: “Grandma is never going to believe this.”

“Can I tie you up?”

“Yes.”

“Can I bite you hard enough to leave bruises?”

You pause. “Only places that will be covered by my clothes.”

“And what should you say if you ever don’t like what I’m doing?”

“I just tell you to stop.”

“Exactly.” Aemond grins. His right eye skates from your face to your chest to your hips to your thighs to your ankles, drinking you down like the earth swallows rain, like the vines and cypress trees and Sanish moss of the bayou thieve sunlight and never give it back. His left eye doesn’t move at all, though this is not something you would notice if you didn’t know to look for it. “Good girl.”

“Done!” Amir announces triumphantly, completing the swirl of frosting on the final orange creamsicle cupcake.

“Can I pull your hair?” Aemond asks you.

“Yeah, I think so. Not hard enough to yank it out though.”

Aemond scoffs. “Of course not. I don’t actually want to hurt you. That’s what some doms are after, but not me. Not here, not with you. You don’t want real pain, do you…?”

“No, definitely not,” you say, relieved.

“Brilliant. Then we’re on the same page.”

Amir could leave, but he doesn’t. His eyes dart between you and Aemond from behind his large rectangular glasses, fascinated, scandalized, too astonished to move.

Aemond continues: “Birth control?”

“I’m on the pill and have been for years. I can show you the pack if you don’t believe me.”

“I believe you. I saw them in your bathroom last time I was here. I’m in the practice of using condoms regardless.” He tilts his head impishly. “Can I fuck your ass?”

“Um.” You hesitate. This is uncharted territory, though you cannot say that you are entirely unintrigued. “Maybe one day.”

“Noted. Some people find the sensation, the taboo, the fullness…quite pleasurable.”

“Do you?” Amir asks flirtatiously.

Aemond gives him a lazy, ludicrously charming smile. “Well I’ve never been on the receiving end, but I’m game to give it a try if you are.”

Amir bursts out laughing, then says to you: “He’s alright. He can commit abominable sins with you, I guess.” He stands and shakes Aemond’s hand. “Nice to meet you. Kind of.” Then he saunters off through the living room and out the front door. After a moment, you and Aemond listen to his blue Ford Escort rumble to life and then the crunching of gravel as it rolls out of the driveway. From the boombox drifts Just What I Needed by The Cars.

Aemond licks the last of the frosting from the peach cobbler cupcake and says: “Now you’re going to be the cupcake.” He crosses the kitchen, kneels down in front of you, roughly yanks down your denim shorts. He presses his face to your royal blue satin panties—hastily purchased this morning while Amir watched the shop and changed into just one hour ago in anticipation of Aemond’s arrival—and inhales deeply, desperately, like a drowning man gasping for air. Then, through the sheer fabric, he begins to tease you: nudges of his nose, nibbles of his lips.

Your fingers tangle in his short blonde hair. Blonde like the drunk man in the holding cell, you think randomly. “Aemond, why didn’t you want me last time?”

“I wanted you. I wanted you then and I want you now.”

“But I disappointed you. You didn’t finish.”

“Oh, I came,” he purrs. “Went home, got in the shower, thought of you. It didn’t take long. I would have disappointed you terribly. Woke up in the middle of the night thinking of you. Tried to miraculously get some work done yesterday while thinking of you. Crawled out of bed this morning thinking of you. Are you noticing a theme?”

You smile as his tongue presses forcefully against the satin. “I might be.”

“How many times in your life has a man treated his orgasm as essential and your own as an afterthought, if he considered it at all?”

Oh God. That’s the fucking truth. “A lot more than once.”

“So consider what we did on Sunday as one little notch in the other column. Just restoring a bit of much-needed balance to the universe.” He hooks his thumbs under your panties and tugs them off. “Open your thighs for me,” he orders as he pushes them apart with his palms: large, smooth, artful hands. You brace your own hands against the kitchen counter as he buries his face between your legs, not lapping in a tentative, exploratory sort of way but feasting on you, drowning in you, lips and tongue and then fingers that skate up the downy inside of your thigh to taunt you, enter you, fuck you expertly yet leave you wanting more of him, all of him. Your nerves are on fire, your blood is simmering. Outside the birds of prey are emerging from their liars and battle-scarred gators stalk boldly through the green prehistoric wildness of the Deep South.

What happened to his eye? you think through the lust-pink haze, knowing you cannot ask him. Aemond respects your rules. You must abide by his as well. How was he injured so gravely? Who hurt him? Did they atone for their misdeeds, did they pay the cost?

Suddenly, Aemond stands and pulls you against him by your waist, rips your yellow tank top over your head and unhooks your bra, kisses you fiercely. His mouth is dripping with you, clean mineral longing; his right eye is gleaming, famished, not just lustful but half-mad. No one else exists. No one ever has or ever will. “Go to the bed and wait for me there.”

“No.”

He spanks you once with his open palm; the sound is sharp and exquisite. “Go.” And this time you obey, counting the seconds in the dusk-lit splinter of time before he joins you.

In Aemond’s duffle bag—among other things, surely—are silk scarves the color of sapphires. First he fastens one over your eyes as a blindfold. Then he ties one around each of your wrists and binds both to the same bedpost, low enough that while your hands are kept up by your head, you still have some room to maneuver on the freshly-laundered, wildflower-patterned duvet. “Not different posts?” you ask Aemond.

“No. Tying your arms far apart like that can cause cramps in your back and your shoulders. It can even make it difficult to breathe. I want you to be comfortable. I want you to be focused entirely on what I’m doing to you.”

You moan as his fingers slip between your legs and circle over the place that makes your muscles yearn and twist and tighten until you feel they might snap, until you can imagine every string of you breaking and dissolving from the prison of flesh into water, air, gravity, the eternal silent progress of time. He bites and sucks at your nipples, flicking his tongue over them, admiring them, praising them, ravenous for them. You are enraptured by the weight of him on top of you. Without your sight, everything else is more noticeable, more real: his warmth, his sweat, his every brush of skin against yours, his smoke and cologne and gasps and sighs, the grinding of his bare cock against your thighs as he makes you ready for him. And you beg for it long before he gives it to you.

“Roll over,” he commands breathlessly, and then guides you: your fingers clutching the scarves that secure your wrists, your elbows propped on the mattress, your back arched and hips angled up towards him, his lips murmuring against your shoulder, your cheek, the side of your throat. He’s telling you so many things, perfect things, delicious things you’ll never hear enough of: how beautiful you are, how badly he wants you, how well you’re doing. There is the sound of Aemond opening a condom wrapper, and a strange sorrow ripples through you. I wish I could have him raw.

One of his hands reaches around to stroke you, keeping you soaked and supple for him. The other begins to guide his cock into your aching, starving wetness. You stretch for him, you accept him eagerly…and then there is resistance. He stills immediately and tries a slightly different angle. Nothing. He could force it, probably, but he won’t. He recedes from you, agonizing emptiness, dire unfulfillment. I’m disappointing him, he’s too big, I’m too tight, too nervous, too inexperienced at being dominated, I can’t please him. You whimper: “Aemond, I’m sorry—”

“No,” he says, more ferocious than any words you’ve ever heard from him. You are not allowed to criticize yourself. You are not allowed to give up so easily. He leans down and whispers into the shell of your ear, his ribs against your spine, his heat entombing you: “Relax. I’m in charge now. I’ll take care of you.”

You want him to. You need him to. His commandment rolls through your blood and bones like a wave, loosening those last vestiges of anxiety, shaking grim psychological heirlooms from the highest shelves. You can surrender yourself completely to Aemond. He is worthy, he is safe, he is euphoria made flesh. His fingertips are still stroking you. He pushes your thighs just a little farther apart and—slowly, cautiously—eases his cock into your throbbing warmth. He hisses in a breath, though he tries not to break character, to show you that he might just be a little bit at your mercy too.

You moan loudly and shamelessly, letting him know you’re alright, more than alright, in ecstasy, in bliss, in torment, on the edge. When Aemond thrusts, he finds a place that’s never been hit so directly or so well. The climax is on you before you are aware of it, one of those swells that rises out of nowhere, capsizes the boat, fades back into the endless blue of the ocean. It jolts through your pelvis, your spine, your skull, and then evaporates like steam from a bathroom mirror. And now Aemond is trying to finish too, but something is off. He tries a few different rhythms, can’t seem to get it right. You think you can feel him beginning to soften. No no no, I can’t leave him unsatisfied again.

You look back, though you cannot see him through the blindfold; instinctively, you want to be closer to him. “What am I doing wrong?”

“Nothing,” Aemond says. “Nothing, nothing, nothing is wrong. You’re perfect. You’re so fucking perfect.” He turns your face so he can kiss you deeply, his tongue in your mouth, swallowing you down, entangled in every way possible. And only then he is able to come: powerfully, trembling, crying out like he’s in the kind of pain that leaves scars for life.

He glides his cock out of you, and you can hear him snap off the condom. Then he unties your blindfold and your wrists. You reach for him, then stop yourself; he reaches for you—a reflex, surely—and then shakes the notion away and collapses beside you on the duvet. You both lie there panting, gazing dizzily up at the long shadows of centuries-old oak trees that cascade across the ceiling, minds drained, bodies spent.

After a moment, Aemond clambers off the bed to grab a lighter and a pack of Marlboro Reds out of his jeans pocket. Then he flops back down next to you, lights a cigarette, takes a deep, slow drag. “So, cupcake,” he says nonchalantly, exhaling smoke, hand shaking. “Where’d you get married?”

You laugh; this is ridiculous. “Why on earth would you want to know that?”

“I want to know things about you. Things other than your tits and your pussy. I mean, those are great. I enjoy them tremendously, and I plan to keep enjoying them. But I also enjoy you.”

You sigh. Aemond waits, puffing on his cigarette. “The parish courthouse.” Plain, boring, economical. “I wanted a wedding at Saint Honoratus, but…”

“Saint…who?”

“The Chapel of Saint Honoratus of Amiens,” you say. “It’s this gorgeous place in a town called Belle River on the other side of Lake Verret. Very small, very old, it’s a historic site or something, they can’t ever knock it down.”

“Why couldn’t you get married there?”

You shrug; how much could the details matter now? Someone needed to organize it, someone needed to decorate, someone needed to pay for food and drinks, someone needed to send out invitations, someone needed to care enough to make it happen, and that someone would have been you, just you, seventeen and broke and bedridden with morning sickness until noon every day. “It just didn’t work out.”

“Sounds like a lot of things didn’t work out for you.”

You raise your eyebrows. Aemond winces.

“Sorry. That was…not the way I meant to express that sentiment.”

You forgive him. You’d forgive him for anything right now, right here, in a bed stained with his sweat and your wetness and the seed you wish he could have spilled inside you. You taunt him: “Should we meet up at your house next time?”

He recoils, horrified. “No. Definitely not.”

“Why? What’s at your house? An abandoned wife and six tall, blonde, prominently-jawed children?”

He chuckles; he has collected himself again. “No. It’s just that…well…I have family in town currently. They’re staying with me while I get set up with the new job and everything. Quite a lot of people. And my family is…unorthodox.”

You wish he would stop using words you don’t know. That’s the hazard of affiliating with a highfalutin petroleum engineer, you suppose. “So they’re strange?”

“That’s a kind word for it.”

“I like strange people. I like you.”

Aemond smirks warily. “You wouldn’t like them. Just trust me on that.” He traces the border of your face with his fingertips, contemplating your secrets, tending his own like a nightscape garden. “Do you ever want to do something…not in your bedroom?”

You grin and he kisses you, nicotine and quelled desire; he can’t help it. You say when you break away: “What, like dinner or flowers or any of the other activities that were very clearly not a part of this arrangement?”

“Arrangements are flexible.”

“Are they?”

“This one is. Increasingly so.”

You ponder his proposition. “There’s this new restaurant I really want to go to. I’ve never been before, but it looks pretty rad in the commercials on tv. It’s up in Gonzales.”

“The same town as your illustrious Kmart engagement. How fortuitous. Pease continue.”

“It’s an Italian place,” you say.

“I love Italian.”

“It’s called Olive Garden.”

Aemond’s mouth falls open. He is bewildered, appalled. His cigarette smolders forgotten in the crook of his fingers. You might as well have told him you wanted to run over puppies with lawnmowers. “You want me to take you to Olive Garden? Seriously?”

You are wounded. “What’s wrong with Olive Garden?”

“Cupcake, Olive Garden is not real Italian food. That’s like saying Taco Bell is Mexican.”

“…Isn’t it?”

“Okay,” he capitulates. He smiles as he smooths your disheveled hair and touches his lips to your forehead. “It’s fine. We’ll go to Olive Garden.”

“Really?” you reply, beaming.

“Really. You’re free Thursday?”

“Unless Willis has to switch nights for some reason, yeah.”

“Then we’ll go Thursday.” Aemond rolls off the bed and finds a mug—Return Of The Jedi, Princess Leia and the Ewoks—left on your dresser to put his cigarette out in. He looks through the screen of your open bedroom window as the sky turns ever-darker, as the moon and stars begin to rise, and he breathes in the verdant, humid, ageless witchcraft of the bayou. “You have no idea what the last few days have been like for me,” Aemond says softly, his bare back turned to you, the ridge of his spine like a road cut through a swamp or a forest or a field of sugarcane. “You have no idea how badly I needed this.”

[cat-in-a-box13]

Twisters HC Part 2, electric boogaloo

ft. my attempts to make a coherent timeline based almost entirely on vibes

Kate and Tyler take an excruciatingly long time to get together. If the movie is set is June (which is what I'm going with based on when tornado season starts and the fact that it makes the most sense for the movie to start a little after the beginning of tornado season), they dance around each other until August after the last chase of the season.

However, by the end of the first week, the Wranglers are sick of their shit. Boone dreams of locking them in a closet together. Javi and Lily actively scheme to make them room together. Dani sticks a post-it note to Tyler's back that says "kiss me" and shoves him at Kate. Dexter intentionally sets their sleeping bags together every time they chase overnight. Nothing works until Kate finally just walks up to him after the last chase of the season and asks if he plans on kissing her, and Tyler responds by dipping her in the sappiest Hallmark kiss you can imagine. No one is sure whether to cheer or groan, because from here on out they will be even more insufferable.

Two weeks after she starts dating Tyler, Kate wakes Javi up in the middle of the night sobbing about how she's going to get him killed just like she got Jeb killed. Javi just silently calls her mom and hands her the phone. Cathy provides expert advice, and Javi provides hesitant head pats because what do you say to that?

Javi and Kate fight like siblings. The first time Javi steals Kate skittles and she full on tackles him, it surprised the Wranglers. The third time, no one even looked up. The seventh time, Tyler just called Cathy and put her on speaker.

Javi's mom left when he was a toddler, and his father traveled a lot for work. When Javi and his dad moved to Sapulpa, they became the Carter's closest neighbors. Rural neighbors, which means there's about a mile of the Carter's farmland in between their houses, but Javi and Kate met when Kathy dragged her over there to deliver a welcome pie.

Because Javi's dad traveled so much, Javi spent a ton of time over at Kate's house, to the point where Kate started calling the guest room, "Javi's room".

Javi's dad died unexpectedly a few weeks after Javi's 18th birthday. Cathy offered to let Javi move in with them, at least until he graduated high school, but Javi insisted on staying at his house, and his room at Kate's house went back to being the guest room. Of course, it didn't stay empty; there was almost always at least one Tornado Tamer that needed a place to crash and now, five years later, Cathy finds herself with a new group of kids (because they're all kids to her) crashing in her guest room and raiding her fridge.

Kate left town a few weeks after the funerals finished. She didn't go straight to New York but instead worked her way up the East Coast for about two years before she landed her meteorology job in New York 3 years before the start of the movie.

Javi drifted aimlessly for about six months before he served four years of active duty in (insert whatever military branch is the most likely to do whatever it was Javi was doing because I don't know how the military works) and is now an IRR for the next four years (I think this is how it works?). He got off active duty about six months before the events of the movie (based on his hair has somewhat grown out of military regulations at the start of the movie, but he still gives off military vibes).

Tyler and his team have been chasing unofficially for about six years, but it wasn't their full-time job until about two years ago, shortly after they brought Lily and her drone on-board.

They don't livestream every chase. Instead, they film for the majority of tornado season and try to get enough footage to be able to release weekly videos through the off-season, in addition to making more educational-type videos about tornadoes and what to do if one is coming for you, as well as showing behind the scenes kind of stuff, like what modifications they've made to the truck and stuff like that. The Wrangler's family dynamic is as much a draw for their audience as the tornadoes are and they know it.

Boone has absolutely stuck a Lego up his nose on a dare, and Dexter yelled at him the whole way to the ER when it got stuck.

Dexter thinks he's the only sane person on the team, but in reality, he gives off serious mad scientist energy when he gets going. He also thinks he's the Team Dad, but it's really Tyler. Dexter is the fun childless uncle that bought you toys your parents hated at Christmas and let you drive the ATV before you were old enough to.

[rk-ceres]

Pretty Girl- George Weasley

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader (Season of love event) Fred Weasley x Reader(platonic)

Timeline: 6 months after the battle of Hogwarts

Summary: Reader gets injured in the war saving Fred's life, after the war she wakes up six months later and falls in love with George who has been taking care of her loooooooooooonggggggg ass fic. had an idea and ran with it mutual pining (strangers to)/friends to lovers I just thought this idea was cute

Warnings: no use. of y/n or y/h/n its just ____, written in first person, crass language, some dirty jokes here and there, nothing physical, slow burn, !FRED LIVES!, reader is a flirt, mentions of death in the war, reader looses a leg in the war, George takes on care taker role for Fred after he gets injured after he was saved by reader, and any others i missed

A/N: decided to take a stab at the season of love event that one of my favorite writers are hosting right now and half way through i really wished i made this a series but i guess this works better as a long one shot with room for more parts. Theres just so much you can do with this imho but it is what it is sorry for the long ass read it was just too much fun to write this ended to where i could add on parts if i really wanted too so if it seemed unfinished i dunno 🤷‍♀️

My eyes fluttered open and hissed at the light in the room everything hurt groaning out in pain as i sat up “oh good.. youre awake. I was getting pretty lonely being in here the only one conscious” Fred called out to me as i rubbed the eye that wasn't covered in gauze “not to be rude or anything but where am i?” i asked moving my hand to rub the back of my neck feeling the popping groaning in some relief throwing a leg over the bed “whats the last thing you remember?” He asked looking at me i rolled my eyes yawning out “I was fighting back to back with one of Percy’s twin brothers… i found him after…. After Penny died…im not sure which twin i was fighting with… i didnt have the time to pick out the differences. Or ask… we were outnumbered ten to three… the minister of magic came in Percy made a god awful joke…. Which we all shared there was an explosion that flew me and the twin i was with against eachother before the wall could come down on us i put up a shield…. And then everything went black” he shifted on to his side “it was me, you saved me.” He smiled “youre Fred?” i asked finally looking at him taking in his broadening smile obviously thrilled that he had someone to talk too “yeah. Im Fred. And to answer your question, youre in George’s bed. We’re at my flat in the shop” he explained “what am i doing in George’s bed in your flat in your shop?" i made a confused face "i know i didn't fall asleep after an intense love making session after a night in the pub so forgive me i am a little confused" i huffed "no. you didn't sleep with my brother. not yet anyway" he rolled his eyes speaking in an amused voice “youre in his bed because after you saved me. The ground gave way under you. And you fell through three floors of the castle, you scratched your face on the rebar on your way down. It missed your eye by a centimeter. I carried you to Pomfrey, You were in a coma for about five months almost six. I insisted that id be the one to help you recover and with your physical therapy after you saved my life. My Fiancėe Angelina would’ve taken care of your injuries for me since you know… im a guy and youre a chick. Then i went and got myself blown up by Bellatrix trying to save my sister… I failed her and now? we’re in the same boat. George turned his room into our recovery room since its the biggest of the two. Angel even agreed to it. Shes really grateful to you. She and mums been taking care of your chest wound seeing as how youre a woman, George handles your eye and… and your leg.” he smiled filling in the details. “What do you mean my leg? physical therapy?” i asked confused furrowing my eyebrows pulling the blanket off of my waist i looked down at my legs to see my right leg had been amputated above the knee “Madame Pomfrey had to take it before you succumbed. Part of the wall fell on it and it was irreparable. I killed the death eater that did that to you” my eyes started to water breathing heavily because it looked like it was so close to killing me i was relieved that i was still alive "love... hey… calm down its okay” he tries to stand but winces falling back to his bed when a loud sob wracks through my lips “shit… GEORGE! GET IN HERE GEORGE NOW!” He yelled suddenly bursted through the door “she just woke up” he told his twin she started to dry heave he wordlessly pulled me into his chest “shhhhh youre okay love its okay.. youre safe.. youre safe.. Pretty girl youre safe.. Percy sat in here with you for two months straight” he cooed they stayed like that as he comforted me when i finally composed myself enough i pulled back slightly  “thank you” i whispered to him “sorry for ruining your nice shirt… i didnt.. i didnt mean to George” i said louder scooting back to leab my back against his headboard “dont worry about that beautiful, its just tears. im sorry you found out that way” he said softly kneeling by the edge of the bed

“Fred was supposed to WAIT to tell you.” He glared at his twin he smiled sheepishly “I didnt expect her to pull her blanket off!” Fred defended himself “that’s enough out of you Fred” he hissed “im George” he smiled at her gently "______ Barebone, I was a ______…" thinking back to my house in school "in your year. Friends with your brother he dated my best friend” “Penny” we said together and i smiled “youre sitting up on your own. Thats a good thing.” He smiled gently at me “is it alright if i checked your eye?” i bit my lip and nodded at him gently. “Can i borrow your owl to write Percy? I want to make sure he’s alright, we both lost Penny" i said barely audible “of course Pretty Girl let me just finish up here i'll get you parchment and a quill when mum and Ange get here” he chuckled He unwrapped the bandage on her face i hissed at the dull pain in my left eye “good… good love, dilation is good. Can you follow my finger for me?” He asked softly “you're tracking well with your left eye sweetheart.” He mumbled he softly covered my right eye with his palm “can you see anything lovely?” He asked “I see your nose… but its blurry” clearly unaffected by his testing of pet names and terms of endearment  he smiled “it looks like the cuts on your face will scar but Fred and I developed a cream that’ll make it go away in a month if you want to use it. I dont have to put the bandage back on… Is it okay if I check your leg?” He asked being extra aware with me being awake and aware of everything he got consent before making physical contact and i nodded not minding the physical contact he slowly cut away the bandages “any pain?” he looked up at me with his green eyes  “just my side” i whispered “yeah, Fred and Percy said you hit a lot of rebar going down after the wall. I’ll let mom and Ange know to up your healing regimen on your side" he sighed looking back at my leg "so wanna tell me why im in your bed and not in St Mungo's right now?" i asked "y'know men usually take girls out to dinner before having their way them in their bed... with their brother watching... never been one for exhibitionistm you know" i teased he snorted "that'd be the voyeur's fault" George winked pointing back to Fred teasingly "thanks for saving him by the way. don't worry Madame Pomfrey stops by every two weeks and she trained both me and Mum to take care of your daily needs. You're in good hands Angel" He added “incision looks good, you can start using the wheel chair youre a little ways away from getting a prosthetic” he smiled “George dear its time to change her….” “Shes up mum” George smiled “I’ll come back in a few minutes with lunch and your potions. I’ll send a quick Owl to Percy as well” He stood up after wrapping her leg then leaving the room giving the women privacy

ଘ(∩^o^)⊃━☆:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧✯:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧✯:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧✯:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧✯:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ

“Afternoon love. You look stunning today” Fred smiled when Angelina gave him a lingering kiss "get a room Voyeur" i stuck my tongue out at Fred he let out a fake offended gasp at me "excuse me ma'am, YOU'RE the one watching ME doesn't that make you the voyeur" he protested "well look at the kettle calling the cauldron black" i retorted "ooh you're just as annoying as..." Molly quickly cut him off before he could mention Ginny pulling the divider so he couldn't see her disrobing “heavens Angelina you're fine shes awake” Molly smiled “Molly Weasley love, ive been taking care of your side. Angies been helping while you were under” she smiles at me "_____, but George has been calling me Love, Pretty girl, Beautiful, Sweetheart, Angel... basically any pet name he can think of. quite endearing" i said with a small smile taking off the hospital gown they put me in “im Angelina, I wanted to thank you for saving my Fiancé” she gently taking off the bandages on my chest “it wasnt an issue I think he returned the favor and then some seeing as how he got blown up just seconds after i saved his behind” i chuckled glaring through the divider "I HEARD THAT BRATT! its not my fault that Bellatrix was a crazy witch out for blood" Fred protested "i fell through three floors for you. i get to have this!" i protested back “he didnt have to do much convincing. George was going to ask you to Yule ball, and any one who keeps that dingleberry alive is a friend in my book” Angie smiled breaking up the sibling squabble we were having “lift your arms for us?” Molly asked when Angelina finally got the bandage off “he was going to ask me to the ball?” I asked wincing when my arms came up armpit height dropping them slightly “ive got you girl” Angelina caught my arms and lifted so Molly could repair the split skin “yeah, he was. George wouldn’t stop talking about it for weeks then McClaggen beat him to it. Sulked for weeks on end” Angie shook her head in amusement "he wouldnt stop moaning about it either" Fred chimed in "he was worse than moaning Myrtle" you could hear the disgust and teasing in his voice “thats sweet. He probably would’ve been a better choice. McClaggen was an arse” i smiled “your cut seems to be healing well, looks like you still have that infection. I’ll add the antibiotics back into your medicine” Molly smiled as she wrapped the bandage back around my chest taking down the divider again Fred promptly flipped me off where i just stuck my tongue out at him again

“Alright George, Fred, we’ll be off” Molly smiled “see you later love, have a good day at work. mum” Fred kissed Angie “call if you need anything George” Angelina smiled he nodded “Take these” George handed her the potions he sat on his bed next to her as he held the empty ones and handed me the full potion phials “how you feeling Pretty girl?” “Like i fell three floors out of a castle” i gagged drinking the potions that tasted exactly like feet "ugh you think that theyd be kind to people who almost die" i choked out  he chuckled “i would’ve said yes by the way” he cocked an eyebrow a me “Ange told her that you were going to ask her to Yule ball” Fred filled in “i wouldve said yes, McClaggen was a dick” i handed him the empty phials as he handed me the full bottles “we can go dancing later if you wanted too, i enjoy dancing i usually go to the muggle clubs on 5th. They have salsa nights, or ball room dancing. You know. to make up for the ball” i smiled his blush grew “i might just take you up on that when youre ready and comfortable enough on your new leg” he fell into a playful flirtation “even with one leg sir, i can out dance you” gaining a laugh from Fred “if youre already joking about having only one leg what was all that crying about?” “FRED!” George tried to scold “Honestly?” i cut him off looking to Fred “i was just glad it was my right leg. I had a bad tattoo that i had to get removed. Someone shouldve told that eater he didnt need to go THAT extreme” i jested “tattoo?” George asked “it was a swallow. It used to match my mom. honestly it really was a bad tattoo” i smiled “you think the healers would let me get a peg leg? OOH! I could even get an eye patch!” They both erupted into laughter “nah im just pulling your right legs since you know i dont have one” “alright alright stop!! It hurts to laugh dick head!” “HEY! Its peg leg to you! I dont have a dick. Or a dick head for that matter. But i will have a fake leg.” i yelled at Fred playfully he just laughed harder at that “ARG MATEY!”  The three share a laugh George catches his breath “who wouldve known you were so funny” he gave her a toothy grin that turned into a closed mouth smile “i make light of bad situations. My brother, ____. He used to call me sunshine and sing this stupid muggle song ‘ive got sunshine… on a cloudy day… when its cold out side, ive got the month of May….’” i laughed “my girl. From the temptations. He used to call me sunshine” “who knew you could sing” Fred Jested “i cant. But he could” i smiled at Fred “you have a brother?” George asked “Had” i smiled “took a curse for me told me to go find mum and dad, Dad died outside the room of requirement, protecting firsties. And my mom… she was tortured near the beginning.” i smiled sadly “Ginny ended up passing too” he smiled sadly she gave him a sympathetic smile squeezing his hand “i was crying because it looked like it came this close to crushing me entirely and for some reason im still alive. Something from the grace of Merlin im alive, i was happy that im Alive” i looked at George who was looking at me with a guilty expression

“come on handsome… wheres that pretty smile you had on for me i worked hard for that you know. Im not a good flirt. I was hoping youd lead, and hopefully ask me to dinner or coffee if i played my cards right. Its not every day someone as pretty as you are is willing to take care of me to laugh with me or at me” i reached up to his face he leaned into my touch chuckling completely red in the face “im okay, we four knew what was going on and what was at risk im okay. Promise.” i smiled softly at him he smiled “Handsome huh?” “You called me beautiful when im obviously a mess.” i shrugged he started smiling again she noticed his dimples and the way his cheeks creased and my face heated up “theres my pretty smile… you have really really pretty eyes… and dimples…. Did i mention i have a thing for guys with dimples.” i smiled rubbing a thumb on his cheek he looked down and back up to my eyes trying to find the right words “youre pretty even if youre a mess” he smiled softly “yep thats it. Ive decided. Youre the handsome twin.” “HEY!” Fred protested “take that!” George smiled laughing at triumphantly like that was an argument theyve had multiple times Fred who was pouting crossing his arms over his chest “youre the nicest twin” She smiled at Fred “acceptable” he smiled at me “im going to get your lunches” he smiled to them “thank you. Can i use your owl again? I need to owl gringots. Get some money for rent and food and care” i muttered to myself “no need. All taken care of” Fred said “you saved me. You dont pay for shit when in our care” he shrugged ending the conversation “do you really want a peg leg?” Fred asked out of the blue “i’ll take what i get.” i shrugged. “At least let me help with groceries” i huffed annoyed “once a month” George bargains “Zero times and shes happy about it” Fred protests “Three times but i let you pay for my prosthetic” she countered “no times, we pay for the prosthetic and she gets what she wants at the shop” fred demanded “we pay for your prosthetic, twice a month, you transfigure your own room, personal care supplies fully yours” George offered “thats a deal i can live with… did you just ask me to move in with you without you asking me out on a date first? When can i expect a proposal? Or should i ask Percy to bring Kingsley and skip to ‘I do’” i smiled at George and he flushed 50 shades of red as Fred snickered “you say youre not good at flirting but this is the third time youve rendered Georgie here speechless” Fred laughed she looked at Fred as he looked back at her “i cant help it i almost died, and lifes too short for me to keep being shy. Theres a first for everything right? Who wouldve known the first man outside of Percy and you i try to actually talk too would flirt with me. He could be my first love, my first actual relationship maybe. He could be my husband one day. Quit butting in youre ruining my shot i dont know how many of these i have you know. Mangled face and peg leg. I wanna get it right the first time! Who knows. Maybe if i flirt enough i’ll get him to fall completely head over heels in love with half of a girl i used to be Perc always told me to put myself out there. What a better time then now?” i shrugged Fred laughed “im not butting out Maam we share a room! Theres no possible way for me to butt out your business IS my business! And with the way youre going Love" Fred called out the way George would say it "he’ll be in love with you by the end of the week” Fred snickered George just shrugged “i had a crush on you in 5th year.” He looked at me it was my turn to be rendered speechless “you wont have to work too hard to make me fall for you Pretty Girl we're already half way there” he shrugged leaving the room leaving me speechless

°✩₊✩°。⋆˚⁺⁺˚⋆。°✩₊✩°。⋆˚⁺⁺˚⋆。°✩₊✩°。⋆˚⁺⁺˚⋆。°✩₊✩☆━(╹-╹’’)

A month had passed Fred was able to start his Physical therapy and Molly wasnt coming by daily anymore “FUCK!” Fred screamed “come on Freddie you can do it!” i cheered him on from my seated position on the bed  “it feels like my insides are going to spill out” He whimpered clinging to Georges shoulder “two more steps Freddie. Just have to make it to the chair” George encouraged “FUCK FUCK” he groaned “almost there Freddie youve got this!” He slowly took another step as i cheered him on "come on Freddie boy make that chair your bitch" i teased  he looked at her and smiled “thanks love.” He smiled taking another step reaching the chair “alright good good sit rest. We’ll go back to bed in 5” he smiles at his twin George looked at me with a smile “time to check my stump handsome?” i looked up to George “yes pretty girl. Time to check your leg, and your eye” he smiled i removed the blanket hissing as she moved further up the bed and turning to throw my leg off the side he sits in the stool next to the bed “any pain?” He asked as he looked at my eye with the flash light “just my side. I think your mom said it was an infection again. Apparently my core isnt strong enough to battle muggle infections.” i shrugged “follow my finger” i watched his finger as he moved it “sometimes it feels like my leg is still there and and its like a sharp pain. But its not there and its weird” i talk as he covers my right eye “i can see your face” i smile at him “she woke up screaming last night” Fred said to the air “she said she was fine her leg just hurt” “why didnt i hear the scream?” He asked as he unwrapped the leg “she casted a muffelito on the room before she fell asleep” Fred ratted her out “tattle tail” i stuck my tongue out at him “brat” he hissed back “Baby!” She teased “toddler!” He yelled back “you have crappy hair!” i crossed my arms over my chest “TAKE THAT BACK!” Fred yelled “MAKE ME YOU CRIPPLE!” George laughed at the banter "PEGLEG!" he stuck his tongue out at me "you two are toddlers" George rolled his eyes  “i… have nightmares. I didnt think it was an issue” i said as he looked at the leg “youre healing fast. Should be able to take the staples out soon, we’ll call madame Pomfrey to come fit you for a prosthetic. Tell me if this hurts” he said as he gently massaged my thigh above the stump i gasped as he gently squeezed “feels great” i said breathily “teach me” i whispered to him he smiled as i placed my hands over his he looked back down putting his hands over mine as he moved my fingers showing me how to ease the pain of the lost leg “it wont hurt forever…” he said softer i smiled at him “thank you George for doing this for me” i looked down “hey. Its handsome to you, Pretty girl, you saved Fred. Its the least I can do.” He kissed the top of my head “youre the kindest person I have ever met… and id get myself crushed over and over again if it meant I got to meet you all over again George. You’re making me fall for you. Is this one sided? Dont make me out to be a fool” i whispered in his ear gently kissing his cheek, his eyes widened in shock at the forwardness and tenderness this girl had for him they’ve only known each-other for about three months at this point he cleared his throat taking his hands off her leg “he's blushing like an idiot again! what did you say to him!” Fred who was watching intently with a bag of crisps “did you accio a bag of crisps?" i furrowed my eyebrows “its not every day i have a front row seat to my brothers love life. There i answered yours now answer mine” Fred rolled his eyes “I told him I thought he has pretty eyes” i fibbed they both know i did he raised an eye brow at me George still staring with red on his cheeks i shrugged

“i didnt lie. He’s…." i blushed looking down “nevermind” i turned over in bed facing the wall he leans over placing a hand on my hip gently and kisses my cheek “youd never be the fool when im with you. Its not one sided. Im the fool love made a whole career out of it. But im also a fool falling in love with the sweetest most beautiful woman I’ve ever met and I’m the lucky one to get to take care of her” he whispered into my ear he pushes off the bed “WAIT WHAT DID HE SAY!!!” Fred groaned eating another crisp “thats for her to know. And you to find out NEVER” George said walking toward him “Come on Fred, lets get back to bed” George hoisted him up after putting the crips off to the side “i was eating those!” He pouted “sod the crisps you need to do this pt!” George yelled gaining a laugh from _____. A month had passed since then, “Afternoon Pretty girl, I need to check your stump” he smiled setting my plate of food on the dresser “we can get Pomfrey in here to measure you for your leg soon. And your physical therapy with Fred and I” i smiled back “can you massage my leg handsome? Its starting to hurt again….” i whispered “alright love, just for a little” he smiled she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror i frowned as Fred met my eyes mood immediately dropping “I gotta get down to the shop before Lee bites my head off.” He smiled at me and i returned it “have a good day at work Handsome” “thank you pretty girl” he smiled when the door closed my smile faded as i stared into the mirror tears formed in my eyes Fred looked at her concerned “you okay Love?" Fred whispered “I miss my brother” i sniffled “he always knew what to say” “well im not your brother but im in need for a sister… if youre in need of a brother… i think we both qualify to fill each others open positions yeah?” He asked i turned to him looking at him with tears in my eyes “teach me what to say, let me be your brother love" He looked at me with gentile eyes

“tell me im deserving pf love even if im broken and ugly” i mumbled he was taken aback he took in a breath and smiled “love, you’re gorgeous, George sees how pretty you are and youve got him whipped. You deserve him and the love he wants to give you trust me” hours passed when George walked in with our dinners light sniffles could be heard from the other side of the room my back was turned to him he looked to Fred who just gave him a tight lipped smile and walked to the other side of the room after handing him his plate he set mine down next to my un-touched lunch plate on the bed side table “hey pretty girl…. What’s wrong… you in pain?” i shook my head no “what’s wrong beautiful, tell me what’s the matter how can I make you smile again?” He cooed softly “Dont lie to me” my voice hoarse like i had been crying for hours he reached to wipe away a tear ”what do you mean I’ve never lied to you Beautiful” hurt hit me square in the chest “you just did. You always do.. mangled face, missing leg. I stare at the girl ive become all day that mirror haunts me my own reflection is a reminder that im alone. And im no longer beautiful and its sickening you dont have to keep flirting with me because you feel obligated to. No one wants someone like me. Not anymore im not pretty and im definitely not beautiful. I have no one. No ones here” i sobbed more closing my eyes sniffling “I miss my brother. He would be in this bed with me. Holding me. Telling me to cheer up sunshine the worlds cloudy and gray without you please sunshine smile for me? combing through my hair like he always did holding me together while I fall apart but hes gone. My mums gone. My dads gone. I havent slept in four months the nightmares keep coming back and I just want to cry I cant be the girl that flirts twenty four seven with a guy thats too polite to tell me that it makes him uncomfortable when this is all over im going to be alone again just let mw grieve the loss of my leg, my family, and my face. I have no where to go. All I have is an empty house my best friend died, my leg hurts twenty four seven and I just need to be sad for a few hours can you leave me alone for a few hours I’ll be normal again in the morning I dont need your pity” he continued to wipe the tears off my face as he processed what i said “im not going to stop calling you pretty, and beautiful because thats what I see when I look at you Angel, I mean look at you love…” he said softer “just look at you….. i cant take my eyes off of you… youre just too good to be true the sight of you leaves me weak there are no words left to describe how pretty you are sweetie”  lifting my face in his cupped hands “youre stunning you leave me breathless, all those things you just mentioned are fixable, love, half of what you said isnt true, you really think that Fred and Angelina is going to leave you alone after youre all healed up and better? Youve got another thing coming. Theyre never going to stop you have friends. Percy’s been here every day since we owled. Fred and Angie made it clear youre their person” he smiled softly “im not letting you go either im afraid youre stuck with me you still owe me a date, and a dance” he whispered standing up and draping a blanket over the mirror i cried more as she felt the bed dip behind me he pulled me into his side one arm under my head one on my torso pulling me on my back fingers immediately going to y hair “if you needed someone to hold you. You could’ve just said so I would’ve done this ages ago if you needed it” he brushed his fingers through my hair humming softly

“and you dont have to say anything to me at all. I flirt with you because I enjoy flirting with you. You make me happy and light, you render me speechless and no one. And I mean no one can do that. But you can, thats why I do what I do you dont make me uncomfortable love. I miss Ginny too. She was a spitfire and its hard not having her around anymore, and if its alright, I want to hold you while we cry about our siblings yeah?” He asked i turned on my side draping an arm over his torso “im sorry about Ginny… her and Luna were really nice to me” i sniffled “I need you to eat for me… I’ll eat with you.” He pulled the roll off of my plate, ripping it in half handing it to me “im sorry about your brother Pretty girl" he whispered as he ate making sure i ate some of the food as well

ଘ(∩^o^)⊃━☆:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧✯:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧✯:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧✯:·ﾟ✧*:

A few hours later i let out a yawn d he started to get up out of bed my arm tightened around him feeling safe for the first time since ive woken up seven months ago “stay…” i said softly his shirt balling in my curled hand “please stay tonight” i whispered he let himself fall back into the bed “Darling wha… what do you mean?” He asked softly “Sleep here… in your bed…. I…. I need sleep…. And im scared to….. theyll come back and haunt me” i whispered “mate she hasnt slept in months i stay up with her as long as i can but i always pass put.” Fred piped up blush spread across my cheeks and i let him go flipping over to my other side embarrassed that i needed someone to make me feel safe enough to sleep “nevermind its stupid forget i said anything” i sniffled he simply reached over and turned out the light “i’ll stay for as long as you need me to stay Pretty girl" he kissed the top of my head again pulling me back into his chest his arm under my head curling back to put his hand in my hair other hand engulfing mine “i’ve got sunshine…. On a cloudy day….” He sung softly twirling my hair in his fingers “when its cold outside, ive got the month of may.. well i guess you say what can make me feel this way” she fell asleep holding onto his hand tightly

“George dear” Molly called out “SHHHH!” Fred said getting out of his bed hissing in pain “let them sleep for a little while longer this is the first shes sleeping since she woke up” he looked back to the girl who hid her face in his twins chest “lets go talk outside” Fred smiled one last time at them sleeping before throwing his arm over his mom and leaning on her for support as they walked out of the room shutting the door lightly

three hours later my eyes fluttered open looking at his sleeping face our lips were so close i bit my lip as his breath fanned over my face a surge of confidence emerged heart hammering against my chest i leaned up and gently pressed my lips to his, his brows furrowed as he stretched slightly pulling me impossibly close to him eyes fluttering open “i….. im sorry,. I didnt know what came over me i shouldve asked fir…” i was cut off by his lips on mine the kiss was soft and slow “goodmorning pretty girl, thank you for the amazing wake up” he murmured against my lips kissing her again “dont be sorry beautiful, ive been waiting for that” he cupped my face with his hand my face contorted in pain “thanks for staying” “i told you already baby… im here for as long as you need me to be” i let out a tear “whats the matter pretty girl? Nervous about your new leg?” He asked softly “im actually really excited for that really. Its just that my leg hurts… and its not even there anymore” i cried softly  “it wont hurt forever…” he said softer “i barely have pain in my ear anymore” he smiled showing me his missing ear she reached up and stroked the hair that fell onto the hole on the side of his head “i still think youre gorgeous Georgeous if you will.. ear, or no ear youre perfect to me… so perfect and kind and caring…” i whispered as i kissed the side of his head where his ear wouldve been his eyes widened in shock at the tenderness of this moment, just for him. He chuckles “only you would make that play on words huh? so cheesy Baby" he rubs my cheek with the pad of his thumb “baby youre so beautiful, and i want you..” he whispered moving his face closer to mine “leg or no leg i think youre amazing, smart, funny, and kind. Unbelievably beautiful and i dont think you should use the cream on your scars, it shows just how strong you are they dont define you or subtract from how i see you. And i would love it, if you’d accompany me to dinner when youre able to, i’ll ask again later when you get your leg and i help you learn how to walk again i want you” he whispered softly massaging my stump as he talked my eyes widened “i guess what im saying is i need you here with me… in the flat.. with me.. everyday youre the first thing i ever want to see and talk too when i get home from the shop youre the first thing i cant wait to see when i wake up… and i need you to stay here with me? Please? I promise you i wont hurt you.. just stay with me and i’ll take care of you.. whatever you need. Angel, please  ive never felt this way about anyone im in love with you Angel please... stay" he breathed out looking at me his arm snaking back up and around my waist tightening around me “im in love with you too George, and... and i want to stay with you.. you and Freddie...” i whispered he kissed me deeply it was a hungry and needy heated kiss the hand around the stump tightened as he pulled me even cliser to him putting the stump over his hip “baby i love you” looking into my eyes kissing me again

@george-weasleys-girl

[etherealiity]

Can you give Taxian-jun and Chu-Fei a happy ending in their timeline? ❤️🙏

let me just say I LOVE YOU for this!! this truly feels like fate, because the morning I received this beautiful prompt the first thing I thought of when I woke up was 0.5 ranwan and I spent the entirety of my morning routine thinking about a canon divergent fic where taxian-jun and chu fei get their happy ending then I logged onto Tumblr and found this ask in my inbox :’)

I’ve had this idea in my head for awhile and some day I would love to turn it into a fully-realized fic, but the basic premise is a month before Mo Ran lays siege to Taxue palace and Chu Wanning dies, he has a dream detailing the event, every last gory detail. it disturbs Mo Ran so much that he temporarily calls off the plan, and while he’s busy thinking of a way to destroy Xue Meng that won’t have Chu Wanning sacrificing himself, Chu Wanning manages to save him in the interim. 

spoilers past erha volume six ahead!

to be completely honest I don’t know entirely how the flower works (I know about its existence but not much else) but in my head canon, aka for my own personal sanity, I do believe that there is a way for it to be removed, and in this AU Chu Wanning removes it, and though it would take time, and healing, in the 0.5 timeline, they would find their way back to each other, and they would never again part.  

I hope I was able to do your prompt justice, as I truly had such a wonderful time writing this<3

-

In the lonely dark, deep into the night, Taxian-jun woke with a scream trapped in his throat, desperately grasping a body that was no longer in his arms. 

He was alone in his bed. No longer was he laying siege to Taxue Palace, kneeling in the blood-spattered snow, holding a deathly cold, winter-pale Chu Wanning who had whispered….

Who had asked him with his dying breath-

“Mo Ran…forgive yourself.”

Mo Ran tore out of Wushan Palace like hell’s hounds were nipping at his heels, ignoring how the winter wind bitterly nipped at his cheeks, at the wetness staining his face, intensifying the chill and its painful bite. 

He couldn’t be gone. He just couldn’t be. 

He couldn’t leave Taxian-jun. Chu Wanning couldn’t leave Mo Ran.

If Chu Wanning left-

If he was dead, then-

What would Mo Ran have left? Who would he even be?

What would be the point of living in a world devoid of Chu Wanning?

Mo Ran ripped open the doors of the Red Lotus Pavilion, his feet automatically carrying him to Chu Wanning’s room, where he found Chu Wanning, lying in his bed, wrapped tightly in blood-red sheets, curled into a tiny ball, just as he always was. The sight both eased and aggravated something that seethed deep within Taxian-jun’s chest. He wasn’t able to breathe. Not yet.

In his haste he stumbled, almost fell, hurrying over the Chu Wanning’s side and without preamble or finesse, yanked one of his arms free from the blankets to clutch desperately as his wrist, searching for a pulse. Mo Ran only needed a single heartbeat to discern that, while softened by slumber, life did indeed still live inside Chu Wanning’s body. And then another heartbeat later, phoenix eyes fluttered open, moonlight catching on long, dark lashes that lifted to reveal hazy amber eyes.

“What-” Chu Wanning started, voice slurring with sleep, eyes only beginning to sharpen with that familiar hate when, without hesitation, Mo Ran pulled Chu Wanning into his arms.

“Wanning!” Taxian-jun gasped, wet, against the side of Chu Wanning’s neck. “You’re here. You’re okay,” Taxian-jun said this as if he couldn’t quite believe it. As if he daren’t hope.

“Mo Ran!” Chu Wanning thrashed inside his arms, hitting his shoulders, but Mo Ran bore it. He wouldn’t risk loosening his grip even a fraction. If he did, if he was careless, if he allowed Chu Wanning to slip away from him, a ghost once more…..Mo Ran hugged him tighter, tight enough to break him. Tight enough to break them both. Soon, Chu Wanning’s struggle ceased. He stilled, stiff and awkward in the cage of Mo Ran’s embrace. When he spoke next, his voice was quieter, a question Mo Ran had no idea how to answer, unable to grasp what the question even truly was.

“Mo Ran?”

Mo Ran shuddered, pulling away, looking into Chu Wanning’s sharp phoenix eyes, eyes that glimmered with light, with life. Eyes that had gone openly, nakedly wide.

“You aren’t allowed to leave this Venerable One,” Taxian-jun hissed vehemently, his heart a painful beat inside of his chest as his hands cupped Chu Wanning’s face, forcing him to meet the fire raging in Taxian-jun’s eyes, the flames that threatened to swallow them both. “Do you understand? This Venerable One forbids it! I forbid you from - who do you think you are……”

“Mo Ran,” Chu Wanning gripped his wrists, pulling Mo Ran’s hands away from his face. A face, Mo Ran realized with a start, that was shadowed, filled with too many lines to ignore. “Calm down. You’re shaking.”

Was he? Impossible. But as Mo Ran glanced down to where Chu Wanning’s pale hands tightly gripped his wrist, he noticed his fingers flexing, curling around nothing, wracked with unceasing tremors. 

It was cold outside. He’d run straight out of his bedroom, dressed in only his inner robe….of course, he was shaking. He was furious - Taxian-jun was livid, filled with fiery anger that would not abate, that roiled through his veins like fire. It was maddening. It had nowhere to go. Taxian-jun couldn’t understand it, couldn’t make sense of it, why it felt like he was being torn apart from the inside out. All he knew was that he had held Chu Wanning’s cold, lifeless body inside of his arms, and it had felt real, in the way nothing had in a long, long time. Chu Wanning had left him. Chu Wanning had left him behind, and he wasn’t supposed to leave Taxian-jun, not until Taxian-jun allowed it, which he never would, because Chu Wanning was his, dammit. Despite his hatred, or because of it, Chu Wanning was Taxian-jun’s, and Taxian-jun was-

A cough crawled up his throat, and another, and another, until soon his chest was heaving, his ribs shuddering, his lungs bereft of all breath. Distantly, Taxian-jun registered the taste of blood filling his mouth, cloying and astringent. Taxian-jun felt like laughing. Mo Ran felt like crying.

But when Mo Ran saw Chu Wanning lift a hand towards his wound, a flare of panic ripped through his heart, an icy-cold, paralytic horror he hadn’t felt in years. Mo Ran caught Chu Wanning’s wrist, squeezing, needing the reassurance of a pulse.  

“Don’t. Don’t do it,” Mo Ran rasped, hating how his voice broke. “If you heal this wound….I’ll never forgive you. You can’t.”

Chu Wanning looked at him, brows furrowed, mouth set in a soft frown. Taxian-jun hated it. Hated how Chu Wanning would take this pathetic display as weakness. He was probably judging Mo Ran right now, sneering at him inside his heart, thinking him such a fool-

Taxian-jun almost flinched when the back of a soft, cool hand came to rest against his forehead. He felt his lips part, but no words came to rush out. No insults, no curses, no words of pure, unadulterated hate.

Foolishly, for a moment, Mo Ran wanted to call a name that he hadn’t in years, “....Shizun?”

“Mo Ran,” Chu Wanning whispered, a cold hand cupping his cheek, a gentle thumb drying a stray tear he hadn’t realized had fallen. “You must wake up.”

Taxian-jun stared at him, dazed. “Wake up?” He muttered, shaking his head, voice shrinking as he breathed, hesitantly. “This is….just a dream?”

The delicate jut of Chu Wanning’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, “Mn,” and then, with featherlight fingers, ever-so-carefully, he tucked a loose strand of hair behind Taxian-jun’s ear. For a second, Mo Ran found himself leaning into the touch. “It’s just a dream.”

“I didn’t know,” Mo Ran told him, hushed like a secret. “It felt so real. This Venerable One….is confused. I’ve just been so confused, lately. It’s Xue Meng’s fault. This fucking wound - it hurts, all of the time. My chest won’t stop hurting. It’s driving me insane.” 

Mo Ran bit his tongue before he could reveal more. Even in a dream, it felt far too vulnerable, far too stupid to reveal such a fear. Mo Ran had ears and he heard all the rumors the people whispered below his throne. He was a tyrant. He was bloodthirsty, cruel, worse than a beast. He was losing himself. 

He was going mad. 

“Wanning, how do I….how do I know what is real?” Mo Ran muttered, burying his face inside his hands to hide his burning eyes. He was just-

Mo Ran was tired. So, so very tired. He ached, down to his very bones. 

“Lie down,” Chu Wanning murmured, guiding Mo Ran to the bed. “You’ll feel better after you’ve slept.”

Something in Mo Ran protested this gentleness - surely it was only a prelude to more cruelty? But exhaustion was a heavy, pressing force. Inescapable. Like a limp puppet, all strings cut, Taxian-jun allowed himself to be arranged supine, and though every fiber of his being shied away from the almost gentle way the blankets were tucked in around his body, for some reason he couldn’t muster up the strength to bat Chu Wanning away, like he normally would have. In fact, Mo Ran couldn’t seem to tear his eyes, lucifugous and hot, away from Chu Wanning at all. And when Chu Wanning stood it was entirely involuntary, the way Mo Ran’s hand shot out to grab his wrist.

“Will you be here, when this Venerable One wakes?” Taxian-jun asked, and maybe he meant it as a threat, but it came out as a desperate plea. Still, the derision and contempt he had come to expect from Chu Wanning was nowhere to be seen on his visage which looked in the shadows, simply put, haunted. Conflicted. 

Lovelorn. 

“Mn,” Chu Wanning sat down beside him, and didn’t try to free himself from Mo Ran’s grip. “I’ll be here.”

“You won’t leave?”

“I won’t leave.”

“Promise?”

“....I promise.”

Taxian-jun nodded, and though he began to drift, caught in-between veils of the living world and the insensate realm of black, his grip around Chu Wanning did not loosen, and he still found himself whispering a question, one he somehow knew only Chu Wanning held the answer to. 

“Do you think dreams have any meaning?”

Just before unconsciousness could claim him once more, a whisper rang through his ears, soft-spoken yet achingly clear. 

“Sometimes.”

Then….Mo Ran just wouldn’t go. Chu Wanning couldn’t do anything foolish so long as Mo Ran stayed to make sure he behaved. Right? He couldn’t let Xue Meng live, or that damn Mei Hanxue - but he could think up another plan. He had time.  

-

Chu Wanning didn’t know how long it had been since Mo Ran had cried in front of him. Certainly, not since he was a boy

That meant he was still in there, somewhere. A heart still beat within the blackened, thorny brambles wrapped around Mo Ran’s chest.

There was still hope. 

There was still a way back from hell. 

Chu Wanning’s breath shuddered as it left his lungs. 

He wouldn’t leave his disciple. He wouldn’t stand back and watch as Mo Ran lost any more of himself than he already had. 

“It will be okay, Mo Ran,” Chu Wanning murmured, watching how the moonlight flickered across Mo Ran’s sleeping face, and how the knot of tension in between his brows only smoothed out when Chu Wanning squeezed his hand, tight, tight enough to leave his mark. “This master promises. I won’t leave you behind.”

[sparrowsage]

Revenge, Part One: Ghosts of the Past

Hello! I know I haven't posted in while. I've had some major stuff pop up in my personal life, but things are on the mend! This is the first part in a mini series that takes place six months after the end of Warehouse. It's very far out in the timeline for the Warehouse series, but my brain wanted to write this, so here it is! I'd like to give a special thanks to @oddsconvert and @darkthingshappen for the mention of their oc's Henley Allen from A Taste of Your Own Medicine and Agent Vaughn from Brothers Keeper. And I'd also like to thank them as well as @whumpcereal and @flowersarefreetherapy for their support as I wrote this! I got the inspiration and motivation for this piece from day four of the Merry Whump of May event as well and it was a ton of fun!

TW: Vague mentions of past captivity, vague mentions and implied past noncon, kidnapping, noncon drugging, mentions of past character death, threatened murder (if I missed any, let me know and I'll add them!)

MWoM Prompt: Day 4 “Forgettable, ‘Who are you?’ Lamp, Alleyway” 

If Sparrow would have been asked when he was teen where he thought he’d be when he was an adult, his response wouldn’t be what you’d expect. As far as he knew, he was going to be in the Warehouse facility for the rest of his life, or with some random person who had bought him if he ever got to the point of being sold. Not once did he ever think that he’d be living with a close and trusted friend, free to make his own decisions, able to finally carve out a life for himself of his own free will. 

It had been six months since the Warehouse had gotten raided. Six months since Damon had tried to escape the facility with him in tow. Six months since he was reunited with his friends and finally free from the hell he never thought he’d be away from. 

Sparrow snapped out of his thoughts as he heard his friend giggle, looking over to him as Felix spun around in a small circle, arms outstretched. 

“It’s been so long since I’ve been able to go and see a live show like that!” he exclaimed. “Thank you for coming with me.” 

Sparrow gave his friend a soft smile, putting his hands in his pockets as they walked back to their apartment building. “Thanks for offering to take me. I’ve never seen something like that! I’m surprised they have all those lines and stuff memorized, it looked like a lot!” 

Felix nodded, looking up at the clear night sky above them for a moment before looking back at his friend. “It’s their job, and it does take a lot of work, but it’s totally worth it. I’ve often had thoughts of trying to get into theater like that, but I think my stage fright would get in the way of it all.” 

Sparrow chuckled, giving Felix a light nudge as they continued on their way, “With how often I hear you singing in the apartment, I know you’d do great!” 

Sparrow let out a sigh, recalling the memories. It had been a whirlwind to try and get things back on track once he was released from the hospital this time. He still had weekly therapy appointments with Alex, but it had been more difficult to fall back into old routine with Felix this time around. There had been a short period of time where there were awkward conversations when the two interacted, both from Felix’s guilt over the invitation Damon had sent out and Sparrow not showing Felix the invite before he left amongst other things. Over time, they had talked things out and their friendship only got stronger from there. Henley still came by frequently as well, often spending a lot of time with Sparrow when he was free, which Sparrow appreciated. The two of them would help teach Sparrow how to read and write alongside teaching him about other things while also having some fun. 

At the thought of Henley, Sparrow took his hand out of his jacket pocket, looking at the digital watch Henley had given him a few months back. 

“Hey, it’s already 10:43. Do you think Henley would mind much if we moved movie night to tomorrow?” he asked. 

Felix looked at his own watch in return before looking at Sparrow, “I don’t think he’d mind. We did warn him the show may run late and he seemed fine with the possibility of postponing movie night. We’ll text him when we get home.” 

Sparrow hummed in agreement, putting his hand back in his pocket as they continued home, looking around the street as they walked. Due to how late it was, there weren’t any people out and about, the only lights coming from the lamp posts lining the sidewalks and the light up signs in the shop windows, long since closed for the day. 

Being outside at night was something that Sparrow had never realized he’d appreciate so much. Sure, there was anxiety lurking in the shadows, often keeping the man on edge, but nights like this where he could look up at the clear sky and see the glittering stars and enjoy the light breeze and inhale the nightly air, it felt freeing. 

As the two passed by a dark alleyway, some rustling caught Sparrow’s attention. He paused his steps, Felix looking back at him a few seconds later when he realized his friend wasn’t beside him. “Sparrow, you alright?” 

Sparrow stared into the dark alleyway, trying to see what was hidden in the shadows before shaking his head slightly to clear it. “Y-yeah, just thought I heard something is all.” 

Just as he was about to continue walking, a voice called out to them, “P-please help me.” 

The two hesitated, giving each other a look before Felix hesitantly approached the entryway to the alley. “Are you alright sir?” Felix asked. 

“Do either of you have some spare cash, or some change?” the voice asked, his voice sounding rough and raspy. 

Felix squinted as he hovered at the edge of the alleyway, trying to make out whoever was talking to them. “I-I’m sorry, but we don’t have any cash on us.” 

“That’s quite alright,” the voice responded. There was something about the voice that seemed off to Sparrow, but he couldn’t place it. There couldn’t be a way for Sparrow to know that voice, but the fact that it sounded familiar ate away at him the more the stranger spoke. 

“Felix, we should be getting back home,” he said, trying to keep his voice level. He didn’t want to scare Felix just because he felt uneasy. It was probably nothing. 

“Could you just help me up, sir? Before you leave? I have a bad knee.” 

Felix looked back at Sparrow for a moment before he stepped into the alleyway, the shadows swallowing him, “U-uhm, yeah sure.” 

From Sparrow’s spot on the street, he kept an eye on the dark alleyway, expecting Felix to come out seconds later, but all he heard was rustling before a muffled shout came from the shadows. 

“Felix?” Sparrow asked, taking a step towards the alley, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. 

Something was wrong. 

Sparrow heard some more rustling and a bit of muffled cries before he spotted a figure in the shadows of the alleyway. 

“You should teach your friend to be more careful. Helping the wrong stranger is going to get him into trouble,” the figure said. 

“Who are you and what do you want?” Sparrow asked, his body frozen in place on the sidewalk. 

The figure started walking forward towards him, an unmistakable limp to his step that made the blood in Sparrow’s face run cold, further cementing him to the sidewalk. 

This can’t be him, Sparrow thought. He didn’t remember Agent Vaughn telling him about some Keeper’s getting free from the raid. He thought that since his name didn’t get brought up in the court case or the fact that he didn’t see him in court meant that he died during the raid. 

“I bet you’re surprised, aren’t you?” the man asked, the light from the lamp posts illuminating his face as he stepped out of the alleyway. “Because who would have thought that you’d be seeing me, of all people, again after so much time.” 

“What do you want with us, Logan?” Sparrow asked again, his voice low but lined with fear. 

“You’re in no place to be demanding answers here, Sparrow. You should know that. Has living outside the facility for six months really put you back so much on your training?” 

Sparrow’s hands balled into fists at his side as he tried to figure out an answer. Logan took the hesitation of an answer to motion whoever was behind him in the alleyway to step forward, causing Sparrow’s breath to hitch. 

Five more people stepped out of the alleyway, one of which had Felix flush against his chest, a hand clamped over his mouth while the other held his wrists behind his back. Felix looked at Sparrow with a scared expression, his whole body trembling as his eyes started to water. 

“It’s been hard, these last six months, you know,” Logan started, slowly walking towards Sparrow. “Having to hide from the police all because the facility got shut down. They’d arrest us on sight if anyone found us. But you know what kept us going?” 

Sparrow let out a low and quiet growl as Logan got close to him, taking a small step back as Logan leaned in close. “Finding a way to get back at the person who ruined the entire operation.” 

“Felix wasn’t the one who took down the Warehouse, the FBI did,” Sparrow said, his gaze flickering between Logan and Felix. “You have no business with him.” 

Logan straightened himself as he faked a look of thought. “You’re right, it wasn’t the runt who got the Warehouse shut down, not in full. But he played a part in it.” 

“Vaughn was the one who found the place, not Felix.” 

“Yeah, that fucking agent found the place, but you know who went crying to the FBI when you didn’t return home that night you went to that party? Him. And why did he go to the FBI? Because you managed to escape and make friends, connections, something of which you had no right doing. He cared about you so much that he did everything he could to find you and get you back safely. If you hadn't defied orders and escaped the facility ten months ago, then we wouldn’t be here now.” 

This wasn’t good, Sparrow didn’t know what to do! If it were just him facing off against these guys, he’d fight back, but with Felix trapped, Sparrow couldn’t risk his friend getting hurt all because of his actions. 

“Just let him go, Logan,” Sparrow tried, a hint of desperation leaking into his voice. “You have issue with me, not him. Let him go and we can work this out.” 

At that, Logan let out a laugh, as did the other men standing around them, causing Felix to squeak in fear at the sound. “You think it’s that easy, pleading with me to let your friend go? And that I’m here for you? I often forget that you’re not that fucking smart when it comes to how the real world works. We came here for him and you just so happened to be with him. We’ve had our eyes set on this runt for months, we just needed the perfect moment to grab him, and what better night than tonight!” 

Sparrow glared at Logan as he spoke, trying to work out a way to get them both out of here safely, but anything he thought of wouldn’t work. In every idea he thought of, Felix would get hurt and Sparrow couldn’t let that happen. 

Logan looked around the empty street for a moment, turning on the spot to look back at his men and Felix, who stared back at Logan in fear. “Get him ready to transport, we’ve spent enough time here.” 

At the word ‘transport’, Sparrow started towards the men around Felix, anger and fear powering his limbs. “Don’t you fucking touch him!” he shouted, lunging for the closest man that was around his friend. 

Before he could get very far, three of the remaining four men pounced on Sparrow, quickly grabbing onto him as the fourth man grabbed a prepped syringe from his pocket. Felix started squirming the moment Sparrow was grabbed, just about missing the needle headed straight for his arm. He let out a loud but muffled yelp as the needle was jabbed into his arm, causing Sparrow to struggle even harder, but it was no use. The three men holding onto him were too strong and he was very outmatched. 

Amongst his struggles, Sparrow watched as Felix started to grow limp, his eyes slipping shut as the drug he was injected with took hold of him, forcing him into an unwanted sleep. Once he was under, Logan turned his full attention to Sparrow, who only continued to struggle. 

The former Keeper nodded to his men and they forced Sparrow to his knees on the ground. Sparrow let out a hiss as the gravel and pavement dug into his knees as he tried to pull his arms out of the grips that held them, but he slowed his attempts as Logan stepped closer to him, leaning down at the waist slightly. 

“I swear to god, Logan, I’m going to fucking kill you if you hurt him,” Sparrow growled as he glared at the former Keeper. 

Logan chuckled at the sight of the former pet, letting out a short sigh. “Your threats don’t work on me. Over the twenty years I worked to train you, you’ve only come close once, and that’s because I let my guard down. I’m not making any mistakes this time. You’re going to watch as I destroy your friend, bit by fucking bit, til there’s nothing left of him, and you’re going to help me do it.” 

Sparrow tried to jerk one of his arms free, his gaze never breaking from Logan as he let out a grunt at the wasted effort. “You’re fucking crazy if you think I’d willingly hurt him.” 

“Ah, well you see, I know you. You’d do anything to trade places with him, no matter the cost, and I think that seeing you get tortured in more ways than one will do just as much damage to him as if he were the one being hurt.” 

Sparrow stilled as the words registered, his expression falling for a moment. Logan was right, he’d do anything to make sure Felix didn’t bare the front of what they were about to endure, even if it meant sacrificing himself. 

“You’ve been told, time and time again by multiple people that you’re not supposed to form connections or to make friends because it isn’t your place to have feelings. Your job is to serve and please whoever owns you, doing whatever they ask of you with no hesitation. I am excited, if I’m to be honest, Sparrow. You know why that is?” 

“Why?” Sparrow asked through gritted teeth. 

“Because I get to hit you where it hurts. Just because we were going after him doesn’t mean that I won’t be paying special attention to you. You’ve caused me so much trouble ever since you were brought into the facility, especially after Damon took on your case. Now it’s my turn to level the playing field. You remember how you used to protect Jayden when he was alive? How compliant you got all because of a simple threat to his well being?” 

Logan stood then, nodding to one of the men holding Sparrow. “Well, you know that I won’t hesitate to kill your friend here if you step a toe out of line. I highly doubt that you want another one of your friends to die all because of you.” 

The mention of Jayden made the blood drain from Sparrow’s face as a new fire blazed inside of him. This wouldn’t be a repeat of what happened with Jayden, Sparrow couldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t let another one of his friends die by the hands of this fucking bastard. 

Just as Sparrow was about to start struggling again, he felt the pinch of a needle in his neck and a coolness spread throughout his body. As his vision started to tunnel, he looked up to see Logan start limping back into the alleyway as he started to lose feeling in his limbs.

“Let’s get these guys into the van, and don’t forget to restrain them. The runt will be out for a while, but with this shit’s tolerance, I don’t know when he’ll wake and it’ll be easier to handle him if he can’t move.” 

The last thing Sparrow remembered seeing was a set of headlights turn on far back into the alleyway and hearing an engine roar to life as the drugs dragged him under. 

Taglist: @mannerofwhump, @honey-is-mesi, @painful-pooch, @whumperfully, @hiding-in-the-shadows

@flowersarefreetherapy, @goronska, @blueyellow8green (If you want to be added, let me know!)

[memberment]

GOOD MORNING EVERYONE

So the Trinitarians brain worm is back and Morning Glory is now longer and biting the dust as far as my focus goes.

But like, I genuinely want to talk to anyone who's invested in what's to come as far as part two goes. SO PLEASE. I IMPLORE THE FOUR OF YOU WHO PERPETUALLY TAKE NOTICE OF MY SCREAMS INTO THE VOID.

We're all aware that Trin is a time loop fic. That is confirmed.

BUT THE PROBLEM IS HOW I'M GOING ABOUT DOING THAT. AND I NEED INPUT FROM PEOPLE THAT ARE NOT ME AS FAR AS PLEASES AND SPARKLES GO, YES?

Because like sure I'm writing it and like fuck everything else, let me tell my story. But it's the how of it all like if I'm gonna throw another 200 give or take hours into this I would at least like one person to be having a wonderful time drinking and driving (I have since remembered this is not a common phrase, I do not mean this in a literal sense, it's an expression) with me right?

Part two is going to be 50 chapters, give or take. (Part one is about 37 for reference.)

So the plan for part 2 rn is (ROGUHLY):

(1-10) is the second timeline. There are a lot of importants and I cannot just glaze over it all more than that. But we're also working in a bit of a shorter time period than the original events of the story and introductions do not need to happen again, right?

(11-40)ish would be me running through the next timelines in a set up structure -> what changes -> the results of said changes and then inevitably what sends our looper backwards. It wouldn't be running through all the timelines but the more notable ones in kind of a four chapter structure, I am not fully sold on four, but rough estimate yk.

And then 41-50 would be the finale of part two. It's literally the last timeline in its glory and then the epilogue which kicks off part three.

COULD AT LEAST ONE OF Y'ALL SIT THROUGH THAT OR DO YOU GUYS HAVE ANY NOTES AT ALL BECAUSE LIKE

I personally kinda like it but if not a soul is reading this I am throwing myself on the curb with the rest of the garbage LMFAOOO.

I NEED THOUGHTS. OPINIONS. COMMENTS. CONCERNS. ANYTHING.

Anyways, I'm going to work. I have off tomorrow and I broke the ff investment seal for today so insanity and updates will be here tonight and homework will be tomorrow.

HOPE EVERYONE HAS A GOOD DAY <3

(9:30) I am literally falling asleep as I lazily write this angel based on Danse Macabre. Expect all of maybe one more update tonight if the tacos I am abt to receive don't wake me up LMFAO.

Also, I am almost saddened by not having something to post tm. Anyone want an early chapter of something that isn't Genesis/Desolation bc they're both on Monday?????? (I am feeling like a menace rn)

(10:19) tacos and the absolute yap session I just had did wake me up a bit. MAAAYBE might write some more. Idk I slept like three hours last night and went to work I'm kinda dead. But we're at 98.2k!!!!!!🥳

(11:06) okay we made it to 99.6k everything besides the flashback for 31 is done. I'm about to relax and watch something and figure out mechanics of some of this because god this series is A BEAST. Like, I still have six planned chapters left.

Pure insanity. I love it here. I hate it here.

Holy shit wait I just came to the realization that I started this fic exactly one month ago. I have belted out 99.6k for THIS FIC ALONE. (Moreso if we're including future shit that hasn't happened yet)

IN ONE MONTH.

THAT IS FUCKING CRAZY WHAT HTE FUCK LMFAOOOO

I may or may not be cooking we’ll find out in 6-26 business hours

(5:28) So I just had a very interesting past few business hours. I read a fic I've been waiting ever so patiently to finish. That's cool, right. I go for a walk at 4 in the morning because I'm insane. Fantastic. I get home at five and I'm like ohhhh well what do I do now it's not sleep time yet. Oh write I'm supposed to be drawing.

Nope I reread the epilogue of morning glory and realized Tweek's first address is for my morning glory and Craig's last sign off is your morning glory and now I'm ready to throw myself on the curb with the garbage as I sob. Someone call a trusted adult for me thanks.

[ledalasombra]

Hello everybody

As the AO3 is down I will put some WIP's of mine here. Hope you like it. As I said earlier, English is not my first language, so please let me know. Enjoy!

My not so normal little sister

Chapter 1

"What are you talking about 'if you cast the cure' ?" the person in front of her questioned "they will be dead if you don't do that!"

Ladybug scowled her expression to the man infront of her "If I cast the cure, you have to understand that all will be in the original place! I undestand the situation but you have to know that in the moment I cast the cure all the villains and weapons will be back in the same time! I am here for the last six hours and I am tired. All the others have to be either.... We need at least a plan to take care of the situation…"

She was cut off by a figure with slightly brown skin and dark blue hair who hugged her tightly " Maman! " The girl started crying on her shoulder while Ladybug opened her eyes in amazement, hugging the girl tightly…

Marinette woke up breathless, feeling the sun pass through the cracks in the curtain that partially closed the bedroom window. She took a deep breath trying to calm down, putting her arm over her eyes. It was the third time she'd had the same dream in the last few days, remembering the events that took place months ago when she was taken to the future by Bunnix. She sat up in bed, deciding she was going to make her day productive, placing both hands over her face and squeezing over her eyes. She grunted, getting up and heading to the bathroom to begin her daily routine, with a wake-up shower and wearing comfortable clothes. She made a very strong coffee as soon as she entered the kitchen, pulling out a croissant and reaching for a jar of cookies. She took everything to the office, already determined to finish all her pending tasks.

The sun had been in the sky for some time and Marinette had already finished her second cup of coffee. She adjusted her posture in her chair, stretching her back and spine slightly as she read again what she'd finished writing, taking a deep breath as she hit the save button for the email's automated reply. Now she wouldn't take any more work while she was away. She finished reading the second email she needed to send to the other clients warning that some commissions would be delayed or would not start until after her complete recovery. She sent a few more e-mails briefly explaining the reason for her departure, quickly shifting her attention to the portrait on her desk, smiling weakly. She ran her index finger over a photo of her parents laughing as they celebrated their last birthday a few months ago, still trying to understand what happened over 20 years ago and what she would do with what little information she had.

Marinette ran her hands through her hair in a clear sign of irritation and fear, feeling that she was going into a spiral of thoughts that she knew wouldn't come out so easily. Life should follow its normal flow, she couldn't interfere. She could do nothing but hope that the course of events would proceed in such a way that she would not have catastrophic complications in the future. The timeline in the future had already been altered and any acting on her part now would be much worse. The sound of the video call coming from the computer screen in front of her woke her from her trance and her thoughts. She smiled slightly seeing her friend's face appear on the screen.

" Hello Miss ' I'm too busy to talk to friends'. I was already getting worried with all this silence on your part. " the boy smiled, frowning a little at his friend's state. Dark circles under her eyes, a clear sign that she hadn't slept or rested in a while. She was downcast and the smile didn't reach her eyes as it always did when they spoke...

" Peter! How are things in New York sir “drama king”? " She smiled with the exaggeration of the friend in front of her. It was always refreshing to think about how optimistic he was. She was really in need of people like him right now. After the end of her three-year relationship it seemed like fate wanted her to go to the bottom as quickly as possible and surely Peter Parker would be one of those people who wouldn't allow that to happen. It was still amazing to her to think that the two of them had simply managed to carry on a friendship as quickly as theirs after literally bumping into each other and getting filthy from the coffee “bath” they were both carrying.

"Things are fine around here in the same rush waiting for you to grace us with your presence. Why haven't you been answering calls or at least returning?" He looked at her worriedly, his eyes moving trying to understand what was happening to her through her expression and body language. Marinette has always been a very expressive person and no matter how hard she tried, it was not possible to hide how she felt. At least not from him after so long of friendship.

"I think .... I needed some time to assimilate some things. Trying to occupy myself and not think about what was or is happening at the moment." She forced a smile looking at him trying to find courage and the best way to say what she needed, taking a deep breath to stop the tears from falling again, she didn't want to worry him, he was fresh air in her life. She didn't need anyone else telling her what to do and what not to do. She didn't need anyone else with that pitying look on her current situation.

" It was that asshole of your ex, wasn't it? " He replied, letting his easy smile go away, because he knew how much the end of the old relationship had affected her. It was days watching her light grow dimmer, until he convinced her to visit New York to get better. He was worried, but Peter didn't want to have to take any action before she authorized it. "Mars, I swear that if you allow it, I'll fix it quickly, he won't even know what hit him... I don't even need to be present for that little model to regret…"

"You're not going to do anything Peter! " She cut him off before he started with a long conversation about how much he deserved everything he intended to do. Marinette had already heard everything possible about what he thought. She gave a slight smile shaking her head " Well, let's leave him aside, there are two things I need to talk to you about. The first is that ... " she hesitated for a moment, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes, already knowing the flood of questions that would arise "I'm going to have surgery next week... it's kind of delicate so... let's say I'm a little... nervous?"

Peter looked at her for a while trying to understand what she had just said. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to come up with a coherent sentence "How? Why? When? Where.... ?"

"Hey, calm down, otherwise I won't follow you…" She smiles slightly "I found out a few weeks ago that I have a benign brain tumor, but it's growing and causing some discomfort... " She threw her body against the chair" It's not a simple surgery Peter…" she felt the tears in her eyes, blinking fast to stop them from falling "But it's going to be alright, I don't want you to worry…"

"Mars, it's not a question of whether you want to or not… "he looked at her with a worried face, seeing her with red eyes trying to hold back tears "you know very well that things don't work that way. Let me know the date that will be the procedure I'm going to…"

"No, you won't come here…" she said imperatively, shaking her head and gesturing with her hands, pausing in her speech "I didn't want to make anyone else worried."

"Mari...."

"I need your help with something." She purposely cut him off so he wouldn't start with the same words she'd been hearing for the past few weeks. "When I went to do some tests, because of the surgery, I found out that my parents are not my biological parents…" she spoke each word slowly, still having a little difficulty understanding what was happening" We took the test in 2 different places and I don't know what to do or what to think. Peter, I'm so confused, but I need to know what happened. And my parents they were so devastated, you had to see them. They had just received the news that I was sick and suddenly they find out that I'm not even their real daughter…"

"Can you send me your birth certificate and the place where you were born? Hospital... anything... I'll try to find something out." He cut her off realizing that she started crying and was getting nervous. He wanted to let her talk, but he didn't know how it would affect her not knowing how her illness was, didn't want to make her more stressed than she already was.

"My parents said that I was born 1 month early and that I had to go to an incubator. I will email you my documents. They said they were in Gotham at the time. " She spoke while wiping her face from the tears that had flowed "There was an attack in the city with hostages, the hospitals were full and she shared a room with a couple who were also in labor. Maybe that will help...” he could hear her typing, visibly sending him the files.

"Hey... calm down, I'll see what I can do from here" he paused, seeing her start to cry again "Mari, everything will be fine. I'll sort things out around here and I'll find a way to be there with you... All right?"

"I…" She took a deep breath, with difficulty. After a few seconds she closed her eyes, throwing her head back trying to refocus on the present "thanks, I'm just… not sure what to do or think. What if my biological parents are alive? what if they don't want to see me? What if I don't want to see them? Will they want to know something about me? How will my parents be? And their biological daughter, will she want to come here?" She paused taking a deep breath when she realized she was saying everything she was afraid of. She looked down at her hands, realizing they were shaking, closing her eyes and pressing them together "I just sent you what you asked for. I think it has everything you need."

"I'm already looking here... But I called you to have news, so tell me, how are things and college? Did you get the transfer? Got any results?" He said trying to cheer her up while using the computer to search the hospital records for what he needed. He smiled slightly as he listened to her talk with some excitement about what had happened in the last few weeks they hadn't spoken, about how she'd managed to complete her transfer to college in New York. Marinette was a wonderful person and she didn't deserve all that had happened in the last few months. Even with everything that was happening, she managed to put a smile on her face and worry about other people.

"I found two things. "He said cutting the subject." Aunt Sabine stayed in the room with another family. The name of the woman who went into labor was Jannet Drake. She had a girl, dark hair, blue eyes... Same description as the girl her mother had. She was born healthy, 40 weeks old and without any physical problems, but died a few hours after delivery." Peter paused looking at his friend in front of him. "Apparently she had an older son named Timothy Drake. I'll send you a file on her along with the name of the nurse who took care of her and your mother. Maybe this can help you get an idea…"

Marinette smiled when she saw her friend on the screen. He was worried, it was visible in his eyes. "Thank you Peter. I don't know how to thank you for what you just did, this is already a start to understand what happened. I'll need to do some exams this week, but I should have the surgery in a maximum of 4 days... At the moment I'm finalizing some pending issues of the company, but everything should be ready by tomorrow."

"Shouldn't you be resting? Mars, I know you're a person who doesn't like to stop and works to not worry about problems, but you need to take care of yourself."

"I know, I'm just sending emails to get everything organized …" She looked at the time in her notebook and took a deep breath. "I need to hang up, I'm going to have lunch with my parents in a little while and get some things organized before the surgery. Can we talk later?"

"Whenever you want and need it! Tell your parents I sent my regards and that I will call later."

"Tell the others I sent a kiss to everyone out there too. Oh and Peter... please don't talk to anyone about the surgery...."

"You know it's impossible to hide these kinds of things from them, don't you? He smiled a little forcedly. "I’m not even going to tell them that I talked to you so as not to generate questions, although I find it very difficult to hide something from them…"

"I know, just don't bring it up. What I don't want is half of the tower members around here, that would be stressful." She smiled slightly "You know how they are... Take care out there and send me news…"

"Always Mars. Take care of yourself!"

[still-a-morosexual-help]

I really really hope you're right, this just killed my motivation for everything. What happened with Solomare's story jar already left a bad taste in my mouth too.

I know I'll feel better in a few days, but I felt lied to when they said they'd continue the story and the app. And it's going to be even lighter and fluffier and a replacement for the main story line? One that new players will perfectly fit into? I was so looking forward to learning more about what would happen to Simeon.

Also not announcing it until last minute? For once I'm really glad I can barely afford food, because I'd be devastated if I had spent even a dollar. But maybe that's just me being poor.

I'm mostly likely going to stop writing for a while until I've archived everything important from the app, which is gonna take ages just in case anyway.

But anyway, are there any recent events you thought were better than usual? I've been too sick to grind lately so I haven't unlocked them. I want to know which ones to archive as soon as possible once the six months are up.

Sorry for bringing the mood down and the rant, but you seem to be the only positive one I follow that isn't outright calling people stupid or pathetic for being upset so I'm really hoping your positivity rubs off on me.

I do hope you keep posting for Nightbringer too! I have several issues with my hands so I don't think I'll ever be able to see the end of the og story line, and I especially love your analyses out of anyone else's.

Okay okay so they are continuing the og app and continuing the story, the only difference is they'll be continuing the mainstory in nightbringer and the og app will just be getting events. So the og app will continue the way it has since the end of s4 and new main story content will be uploaded to nightbringer (the devs did says this)

Not sure what happened with story jar but Obey Me! is solmare's most popular game. Objectively, nothing solmare has created has ever come near to reaching om! And I'm talking purely in the money making side of it - the anime? mangas? songs? merch? cons? VAs getting heavily involved in everything? Solmare's a business. As long as there's a fandom and a demand for it they're not gonna kill the og app.

Plus the majority of om's content is on the og app, with new content and old events still being released. If they wanted to kill the og app they'd stop releasing new content and updating lonely devil.

Since nightbringer will be continuing the mainstory from where they left off, they'd also need to move all of S1-4 the chats, call & devilgrams to nightbringer if they were gonna kill the og - and I'd imagine that's more hassle than it's worth

I do think we'd learn more about what happened to simeon;

• devs said they'd be continuing the main story in nightbringer so that'd include simeon

• nightbringer's current plot is about time travel and mc trying to find a way back home - so they will end up back in the current time at some point, where simeon's whole thing can be addressed

• s3 established that luke wasn't alive when the brothers were angels. If they intended to keep mc in the past they'd either have to scrap luke's entire character (?????) or retcon s3 which so far dropped the most lore

• thirteen (who's supposed to turn into a LI)'s first visit to the devildom happens in s4 and in nightbringer's op we see her in Diavolo's castle. Which means we're seeing the present timeline as well

....i think you're maybe panicking a bit too much? You definitely don't need to archive anything anytime soon. For well all of the reasons I mentioned above.... Maybe someday you'd have to but definitely not right now

Honestly I liked all the events🤷

No worries! And Yeah I think the thing people are forgetting is that Nightbringer is STILL Obey Me! I'm definitely going to be still talking about it

Ok so I have an exam in 2 days and I think I've answered every possible question about Nightbringer you could possibly have so I'm calling it here.

Won't be answering new asks until sunday. Everything posted will be from queue.

If you want to see my others asks/answers regarding Nighbringer just hit the tag on this post

[lordisitmine]

TTNBD BLOG PART SIX

This blog covers chapters seven and eight of the story.

CHAPTER SEVEN – SUMMONING CIRCLES

Black Butler was one of my first fandoms. Not my first anime, by any means, but one of the first series of any kind that I consumed fan content for. I was new to the world of fanfiction back then, certainly not writing it yet. But some of the first fanfiction I read was Sebastian/Ciel.

The first fandom I wrote for was Supernatural. If you look at my works catalogue on AO3, you’ll see it’s the one I’ve written for the most as well. While it wasn’t my first fandom, I consider it my first in that it was the space in which I began to explore and hone my fanfiction writing abilities and specialties. I consider it my origin fandom, in a way. That series, its worldbuilding (or lack thereof) and its tropes make up the background from which I come.

So, when it comes to writing things about rituals and demons and other such things, I’m well-suited to the task. As I said in the last blog, I have an aversion to such things in reality, but in fiction, I’m old hat. I could say I researched ritualistic magic or the occult and took great pains to make it seem accurate to what may have been attempted in real life. But that would be a lie. When it comes to the ritual Lizzy and Sybil perform to summon Sebastian, I really just stitched together bits and pieces from stories I’ve read in the past, seen on TV or intuited from my own hypothetical actions were I in such a situation.

I have several 1899/1900 calendar pages on my wall in my writing space of the months in which the story takes place. It allows me to clearly and easily visualise the timeline of events and not lose track of them, all for the sake of maintaining proper continuity. I like to include references to actual events when appropriate. When Sybil mentions that the night of January 8th, 1900, is the first quarter moon, that’s true! I looked up the lunar charts for January 1900 and picked the soonest day when the moon was doing something definite so I could use it for the ritual. It’s amazing that the information about the phases of the moon from over a hundred years ago is available to us!

Sybil describes the balance of nature, how the sun and moon will be in the sky at the same time, and that will create harmony within the heavens. Lizzy refers to it as “a sort of homeostasis”. Homeostasis is a scientific term used in biology to describe the process by which a living organism maintains stability within itself while adjusting to varying external conditions. The term wasn’t coined until 1926 (I looked it up) but it’s a cool word and I wanted Lizzy to say something smart, because what’s the point of her going to medical school if she hasn’t become a bit of a nerd?

Also, it gives Sybil an excuse to mentally swoon. That, and the bit with the jam. I was trying to keep up the romantic tension and not let it get lost in the plot.

And then DRAT! They are interrupted by Simeon! He’s been out all night- doing what, we just don’t know. I won’t say it here but trust that in the final arc of the story, we’ll get more explanation about Simeon’s activities. Sybil is lying to her dad, thinking he wouldn’t approve of her frankly insane plan. And she’s right- he wouldn’t, but not for the reasons she thinks.

And now, it’s time for the BURNING BRIDES case! This is the case covered in the third episode of the second season of the Black Butler anime, entitled “Wench Butler”. A couple of readers have asked me how I came up with the case, and it reminded me how few people have watched the second season, or at least how few people remember it. I also have not watched it in many, many years, but I’ve taken so many pieces of it for this story.

In the episode, Ciel is assigned a new case by the Queen. There have been a few suspicious deaths- young women, all recently married, have been dying via spontaneous combustion- a truly horrific way to die, if you ask me. In her letter, the Queen mentions her “Spider”, and Ciel is intrigued, not knowing who this other investigator might be (it’s Alois).

Ciel and Sebastian eventually figure out that the victims all had their portraits taken by a pair of photographers- a married couple, the Turners. Margaret Turner, the wife, always wanted a passionate, romantic marriage, but hated her husband and her life and resented these women for their happiness and youth. So, she uses phosphorous powder, normally ignited to make the flash necessary for photography at the time to immolate her victims. When caught, she states that there was “a man with golden eyes” (Claude) who told her that the commission of these crimes would bring her happiness and that he would come to take her away from her sad life. She then commits suicide via the same method she used for the murders.

I kept most of this and just reworked some of the timing and conversations. There was a scene in the episode where Sebastian and Ciel run into Grell Sutcliff- I wanted so BADLY to have Grell appear again, I love her so much, but it was messing with the timing and tension, and it was just a whole extra scene to write, and I wanted to keep the story going. Also, trying to cram in every single character cameo I can think of would muddy the waters too much in my opinion. So, I left it out.

But I wanted to include the case itself. I always really liked the concept of it. And I specialise in re-working canon material. I’ve never been a huge AU person (i.e. high school AU, modern AU, coffee shop AU etc.)- I don’t write them (I think I wrote a Steve/Bucky coffee shop AU ONCE, for a request), and I don’t read them. Everything I write is within the canon of the series I’m writing for; I find that space much more rewarding to play in because there are rules you must stick to but still so many possibilities for what you can achieve and finding that balance is super satisfying. Things like soulmate AUs and stuff are my favourite though because again, they can exist within the boundaries of canon but make things so much more exciting in their own way.

Anyway, enough of my tangents. Back to the story. Ciel and Sebastian are investigating, being cute at a crime scene (what else is new) and they’re being watched. Ciel is not as good at being subtle as he thinks he is, so Claude was able to pick up his scent when Ciel was following him and Alois before- and they’ve decided to return the favour. But they’re also not as subtle as they think they are- cue a rooftop chase.

I like to think that Ciel is really fast. Like, I know Sebastian is fast- we see it all the time. But something about Ciel being slightly smaller makes me think that he might be able to move that much more quickly, though Sebastian will probably never admit it. I can’t wait for the later chapters of the story where Ciel begins to hone his skills. He hasn’t had a reason to properly learn how to move and fight- he and Sebastian have been living in peacetime, so to speak, since the end of TTEOE. But running fast doesn’t require a lot of practise, so Ciel catches Claude and Alois pretty easily.

Good God, Ciel remarked. Is that how I looked all those times you had to carry me?

No. You were far more distinguished.

Why do I get the impression you’re only saying that to spare my pride?

Sebastian looked facetiously wounded. You know I am incapable of telling a lie.

Ciel scoffed. I’ll believe it when I see it.

Just popping that in there to tell you once again how much I love writing banter for these two. It feels so correct, it practically writes itself, really.

I couldn’t decide whose POV this conversation should happen from, so I switched throughout. I try to be careful when I employ this technique- it can quickly make things a little soupy, for lack of a better term. But I wanted this exchange to have observations from both Alois and Claude. Alois is trying to be brave while internally pissing his pants, and Claude is falling into a quick and disgusting obsession with Ciel, which is also taken directly from season two of the anime.

I couldn’t resist having Ciel comment on Claude’s name. A Faustian demon having the last name Faustus is the most basic-bitch bullshit, and I would expect nothing less from Alois Trancy.

I loved writing Alois and Ciel’s exchange. They’re both such spitfires, stubborn and bitchy and uncooperative. The funniest part of the conversation to me is the fact that Sebastian and Claude are standing no more than six feet away, glaring daggers at each other and ready to throw down at a moment’s notice. I just imagine those wavy red lines radiating off of them like you see in an anime when a character is frustrated or angry.

If it wasn’t clear already, Claude is straight up lying when he says that Sebastian murdered Alois’s brother. This brings up another topic I wanted to discuss, which is the thing demons are always saying about how they don’t lie. I always just assumed that statement itself is a lie, and that’s the joke, right- lying when you say you don’t lie? Obviously if a demon’s master gives them an order to answer a question honestly, they would have to, but outside of orders, I think demons can just bullshit all they want. Especially demons like Claude, who are already disloyal to their masters and stretching the limits of their contract’s rules to the absolute limit In order to complete their own goals.

Claude telling Alois that Sebastian killed his brother is also straight out of the anime- he lies to Alois there too, so I don’t feel weird about doing it in this fic. Demons are creatures of treachery, after all, and will ultimately do what’s good for themselves in the end. The only question is, why would Claude lay they blame on Sebastian? What could he stand to gain? Questions, questions, questions…

As I said before, for a lot of this summoning ritual, I’m writing off the top of my head. The thing about salt is true, though- salt is a purifier/preservative, so it’s often considered to be symbolically protective. Pouring salt lines in doorways and windowsills will supposedly protect a household, as no evil can pass through the barrier. That’s a thing in Supernatural, but Supernatural didn’t make it up, is what I’m saying.

The way I imagine this ritual works is like: Lizzy focuses on Sebastian. Sybil reaches into her brain with her witchy powers, connects to the spirit network and just pulls really hard on the threads of the universe until Sebastian appears. That’s all pretty vague but I don’t really think the specific mechanics of the ritual matter all that much. It’s magic, don’t worry about it.

The rest of this chapter was one of the first things I wrote for this fic. Not the very first- The scene in chapter one with Lizzy at Ciel’s grave was first written in 2019 (!!), but the first draft of this chunk of chapter seven is hand-written (I handwrite a lot of my fic) and dated as May 2022. I hadn’t yet figured out what the circumstances were for Ciel and Sebastian even being in London, or why they’d been talking to Claude, but I knew I wanted them to be making out when Sebastian got yoinked. It’s just very funny to me. Someone commented that it’s good Sybil and Lizzy didn’t wait much longer to start the ritual, or Sebastian would have been buck-ass naked when he showed up, and that gave me a good laugh. I hadn’t thought of that.

I love Ciel making Sebastian jealous on purpose. They both like annoying each other, it’s an Olympic sport for them, but we all know that Ciel secretly (or not so secretly) loves how possessive Sebastian is. He loves being needed and wanted and owned and *screams* I love writing it. Makes my brain go brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

It was important to me that Sebastian show up in Sybil’s attic looking like an angry wet cat, only not wet. Frazzled maybe. He just got dissolved and pulled through space and then reassembled in a strange environment. You’d be frazzled too. I feel like I succeeded with my sketch.

Now that Ciel is a demon, it’s fun to have Sebastian be the one in danger because there’s actually more Ciel can do to save him- though his inability to really fight or anything is going to be a problem that needs rectifying (we’ll get there). He is, however, perfectly capable of smashing through a window and scaring the shit out of Lizzy and Sybil.

I knew from the very beginning that I HAD to have the moment Lizzy finding out Ciel is still alive be a cliffhanger at the end of a chapter. Nothing else would have done it justice. She was gagged. Gooped. Face? Cracked. Wig? Snatched.

CHAPTER EIGHT – A SOUL NO LONGER LIVING

Another Simeon flashback! I love writing these. I’m very fond of Simeon, much more than I thought I would be, considering he was basically only created to be a vehicle for exposition and plot continuance. We also get more insight into Ada, who I also love. I’m actually chipping away at a spin-off one-shot about their first few days together after making their contract it’s literally just porn but that’s beside the point. It’s quite a different dynamic than any other demon/master relationships that are seen in canon- but if there are many demons running around in the world, it would stand to reason that their contracts and relationships would be as diverse as they are.

In truth, I have ideas/intentions for a few spin-off one-shots of varying lengths for this universe. Don’t worry, I’m going to focus on finishing the main story first! But I’ve never been this excited to expand on a fic before. It’s a neat feeling, and I hope my readers will follow me along on the journey, even though I’m really just happy to write these ideas down for myself!

Ciel bursting into the room, dropping a “surprise, bitch” on Lizzy and then immediately ignoring her in favour of Sebastian is just very Him. I wanted this whole scene to be from Lizzy’s POV because again, I love that outsider shit, and she’s the one with the most new and overwhelming thoughts at this moment. As if it wasn’t enough that Ciel is alive, she suddenly sees him and Sebastian kissing- it’s a wonder her head didn’t explode! But that reveal was less surprising to her. Ciel and Sebastian were always… weirdly close, so she can’t claim to be too shocked.

He approached her, and she flinched. She never would have before- she would never have thought to be afraid of him- he would never have struck her. Now, though, she wasn’t so sure. There was some power, some darkness radiating from him that made the basest part of her shy away.

When I wrote this, I had fully forgotten the scene early in the anime when Ciel does totally reel back to slap Lizzy and Sebastian has to stop him. It’s a small thing, but I was kicking myself about it when I realised my mistake- nobody’s perfect, I guess.

“The eyepatch you wore,” Lizzy said, and then felt quite stupid. “It wasn’t from an injury, then.” Tears began to burn in her eyes, threatening to spill over. “That was a lie as well.”

Here, at this moment, we get Lizzy’s emotional hang-up for the rest of the arc- the fact that Ciel lied to her. For the record, I didn’t even expect her to care this much. She just would not let it go, even when I tried to write her letting it go. Sometimes characters and stories develop a mind of their own, and you have to follow their lead until it comes to its natural conclusion.

I know a lot of readers were annoyed by Lizzy’s unwillingness to just get with the program already and believe me- I was also annoyed! But I also felt that it was more accurate to her character, and I wasn’t going to sacrifice that for the sake of making readers a little less annoyed. Sometimes characters are gonna do stuff you don’t agree with. That can be interesting. And sometimes, the consequences of their stupidity or stubbornness can be all the more satisfying as a result!

Thankfully, before things could devolve into even more arguing, Simeon shows up and the boys quickly bounce. Sybil telling Simeon that it was a bird that broke the window is another pseudo-reference to the fact that Ciel, to me, is a phoenix. He’s the big bird lol.

Alois is of course enchanted by the idea of immortality- if anyone would be looking for a way to weasel out of having to give up their soul, it would be him. Claude, of course, has no intention of ever doing something like that. He’s anti-love and anti-fun in general, to be honest. What a buzzkill.

I’m not going to go too into detail about Hannah’s revelation about this weapon, as there are things about it that have yet to be revealed in the fic itself. I’ll leave that for later commentary blogs. Rest assured, this weapon is bad news.

In a comment on this chapter, someone pointed out that at the moment Alois and Claude are discussing mating bonds and such, Ciel and Sebastian are back at their hotel having emotional, life-affirming floor sex. The juxtaposition of those two images made me laugh. If this was a show, you could have a hard cut between Claude being like “Romance is dumb” BOOM Ciel and Sebastian fucking. It’s hilarious to me.

Anyway, this scene was so self-indulgent to me. Sometimes you just gotta write stupid mushy shit, okay? They’re so in love with each other *cries*

“How can you say such things?” he looked at Ciel mournfully. “How can it be that I’ve failed you so, that you believe these lies about yourself?” He reached up and pushed matted, wet strands of hair away from Ciel’s eyes. “You have proven time and time again to be my saviour and my solace. You are and always will be the very reason for my existence- the purpose for which I live and breathe- whether you are of any use to me or not.”

What’s that meme that’s like “Do you like soul mate AUs or do you just struggle with your self-worth and are obsessed with the idea that someone could love you no matter what”? It’s me. I have exposed myself.

I think Ciel likes pain, like, in a sex way- at some point, all the shit he went through must have crossed wires in his brain- but in this scene, it was more about his need to feel something, anything, to remind him that he and Sebastian were both alive, and real, and safe and together. And it affected him so deeply that his blue flames came back, even for a second!

I didn’t intend for Ciel’s powers to be a part of the story, but I realised early on that Ciel needed some kind of internal conflict to give him a character arc as well as the external conflict of solving murders etc. I’m excited to get into it properly in the final arc of the story.

Sebastian, a demon, reciting scripture will never not be amusing to me.

“And they shall take of the blood and strike it upon the two side posts and on the upper doorposts of the houses… for I will pass through the land of Egypt in the night, and I will smite all the firstborn, both man and beast.”

The passage he is quoting is from the Old Testament book of Exodus, paraphrasing verses from the twelfth chapter. It’s the command God gave to Moses for the Hebrew people, which led to what became the first Passover. The Hebrew people were in slavery in Egypt, and God sent the ten plagues of Egypt, and the final plague was that God passed over the land of Egypt, and every firstborn human and animal died, all in one night. This is what made Pharoah finally break down and let the Hebrews go.

The Hebrew people themselves were protected from the plague because they sacrificed a lamb and used its blood to mark their doors so God would know they were his people and not harm them when he passed over. Thus, the term “Passover”.

Sebastian, using his blood to mark the walls and keep them safe, found it a cheeky, fitting reference. And yet again, he STOLE something.

Cambion is indeed a term for a being who is half-demon, half-human. The term originates in European mythology and was originally used interchangeably with the word ‘changeling’, a mythological creature that replaced a human child, but later came to mean a demon-human hybrid. The most popular use of the term is the creature from Dungeons & Dragons, a humanoid creature with bat-like wings and horns and a devil’s tail.

Obviously, Sybil doesn’t have any of those physical attributes, but her demon heritage is what makes her capable of seeing the dead, as well as her intuitiveness and her ability to successfully perform rituals like the one that summoned Sebastian despite the fact that she’d never attempted anything like it before in her life. Witches in general are just humans with an affinity for the spiritual, but Sybil has heightened abilities that can only be attributed to her non-human genetics.

I ended this chapter on another sort-of cliffhanger- I hate writing normal endings to scenes, it always feels awkward, so I always end up doing this haha. I hope it doesn’t get too annoying or boring. Like right now, for instance, me not knowing how to end this blog post.

Okay, bye, see you all next time!

[coruscqte]

a brief late night drabble about xiayu / stelle swapping places in their respective timelines — and some reflection

@lesbianbootheng

-

“I wasn’t raised as a Vidyadhara,” Difficult to explain, in that sense, the question already forming in Dan Heng’s eyes. Xiayu smiles a little, watching the stars twinkle in that artificial sky, “I was raised by short-lifers.”

“Short lifers?” Dan Heng echoes her words, following a few steps behind with March as they walk through the Divination Commission, “A new Vidyadhara, the first in centuries, and they allowed you to be raised by short-lifers?”

She hums, thinking of the best way to explain it to him. It’s difficult, how best to obey Fu Xuan and not reveal the future, lest it affect their past, “I was a special case. A Vidyadhara mated with a short lifer unknowingly, and in, you know, six months, I appeared.”

“I guess it was unusual, but I’ve never felt like a full Vidyadhara. Guess I never really wanted to be one, anyway.”

The video flickers to life when Stelle ghosts her finger over the projector. A small screen, as big as the few photos that sit on the edge of the high elder’s desk. It’s clearly a child in the video, his daughter, if she had to guess by the fluffy dark hair and aquamarine horns.

She sits, in front of three objects. A baseball. A charm, jade by the color, and a camera on the floor. There’s also what she thinks is a pen and a book included on the floor, as well as an Express ticket completing the semi circle.

“Guess it never really mattered. I didn’t feel like I was missing out on anything by not being raised by a pearlkeeper.”

The camera’s angle shifts, stabilizes again. Dan Heng appears in frame, a little closer to how Stelle remembers him in her timeline. He sits behind the objects, a tired but soft smile on his expression. She’s hit with a pang of longing, missing her partner after the last few days’ events, and watches as he attempts to get the toddler’s attention from where she’s turned to grin at the camera, “Xiayu, little star, look here.”

His voice is so kind, sweet when she finally looks to him. A father. So different from the cold man that’d greeted her earlier today. Suddenly she feels exposed, feeling as if she’s trespassing into the office. Perhaps she is. But her curiosity wins out, and she settles gingerly into the chair behind the desk.

March catches up to her, swinging her arms along her sides, “They must’ve really loved you then, to take on that kind of responsibility. The first of your kind in so long … isn’t that kind of scary?”

What is there even to say to that? Xiayu’s heart catches in her throat. March being here still stuns her in such a terrible way, that makes it harder to breathe. So bright, excited, happy — alive. It’s near foreign to have her so close.

“I don’t think they ever thought it was.”

“What’s this for again?” It’s March’s voice that echoes in the office. Not a surprise, that means that the three of them remained friends into this future of their’s. That was nice to know, “Seems like a lot of options for one baby.”

“It is an old tradition on the Xianzhou. A choosing ceremony, where on their first birthday, a child is given many options to give a little … insight, into their future,” Dan Heng responds, “What she grabs is what she may do in the future.”

March hums audibly, and the camera shifts again, “I guess that could be interesting. Why’s the jade in the middle though and not the camera? This isn’t a fair set up, Dan Heng.”

The man shakes his head lightly. His expression swings towards smug, “Do you not think she can choose for herself? Should she like the jade piece, she has a future with the Xianzhou.”

“And if she likes the camera, then she’s definitely going to love seeing the universe, right?”

“If that’s the meaning you assign it.”

The silence is deafening. They keep walking until they reach the starskiff port, waiting on the next one to arrive, “Besides. I enjoyed what time I had with them, they loved me. I loved them. Every second spent with them meant everything to me.”

Xiayu smiles again, though it’s strained when she faces March. She swallows thickly, “The Vidyadhara think in centuries. I think in years. I think it makes me more … down to earth.”

The other woman nods, “You really know how to live in the moment then, huh?”

So many photos snapped over those fifty years. A beautiful camera, preserved on her night stand. She hadn’t used it since its owner had passed, and yet, the same camera hangs off her belt. Carefree. Smudged and scratched in the same way.

“You could say that.”

The child giggles in response, babbling near nonsense. March seems to respond in kind, “You think your dad is being biased too, huh?”

A louder giggle from the baby. Agreement, in March’s opinion, “I know! Totally unfair to your mummy.”

“Don’t give her any extra ideas, March.” Dan Heng says, looking for Xiayu’s attention again. Once he has it, he beckons her forward, speaking to her directly again in that kind tone, “Which is it that you like more, my child?”

It takes her a moment, maybe more to process as the video crackles. Stelle finds herself invested, almost excited to see what the child chooses. A beat, two, three, four. Then, she crawls forward. Looks at the items as she swings her head back and forth, sticking one of her small hands in her mouth.

“Your parents must be gone by now,” Dan Heng says, from where he stands to her left. It isn’t rude, rather more matter of fact. He sounds almost apologetic, “With how old you are, I am sorry for your loss.”

Loss. It seems like all she does these days is lose. But what can really be done about it? Time keeps marching on and forward. As much as she wishes she could freeze frame twenty years ago, relive it again and again outside her dreams, she can’t. While the man before her has barely aged, the woman to her side has. Multiple times over until she was laid to rest finally. Allowed to sleep as long as she liked without being disturbed on a weekend.

She wills back tears.

The baby crawls forward again. March follows with the camera as Dan Heng scoots back to allow her space. Away from the pen and navigational device, even away from the book. An interesting selection. Every person the video seems to hold their breath, as not to influence her as she sits finally before the first three objects.

Its unceremonious, or perhaps ceremonious, when the baby grabs at the baseball with a slightly underdeveloped grip. But that’s decisive enough for someone to cheer rather loudly from just behind the camera as the baby laughs, turning to look at whoever it was.

“They are. Or, my mother is. She’s been dead a long time now.” So long, its felt like. What is she to say to that? To do about it? To be here now, knowing by some cruel twist of fate that she can be here with her mum but not her mom is killing her on the inside. Xiayu shrugs at Dan Heng, watching the starskiffs go by, “But … thanks for that.”

The camera swings over in a mess of gold and white when someone picks up the baby and spins around with them, “That’s my girl!”

“You don’t have to gloat about it, you know!” March whines, playful while the camera focuses in on the presumed birthday girl, “It’s just a prediction anyway.”

“But it’s a good one!” She realizes, there in that office, that it’s her voice on the audio. That it’s her in the video, her hair cropped short around the ears while she dances with Xiayu in her arms, “My daughter’s going to be the next galactic baseballer, nothing you can do about it, darling.”

Her … daughter?

She had a daughter. With Dan Heng. With March, if Xiayu’s appearance was anything to go by. It … stuns her, while the video loops around.

“A preview,” Dan Heng again, when March turns the camera around. He quirks an eyebrow, “Of the next at least twenty years. Are we truly surprised of our child choosing their mother?”

“No … I guess not.” They share a laugh, before the video cuts.

“I am sure she’s watching you now,” Dan Heng offers her as they climb into the starskiff, March rattling off their destination. Was Stelle still watching her? What would she think, of all of this? Her troubles with her lineage, with her father, with everything? She’d know what to do, “A comfort. Perhaps.”

Xiayu smiles, chuckling a little as she rubs the corner of her eyes, “Yeah. She would be. Think she’s always looking out for me.”

Stelle places her hand closer to the projection, hand almost eclipsing the machine as if to reach out to the baby on it. Her baby. Her daughter. Technically.

What … happened here, she wonders, while she glances around the office.

What happened to her?

[catofadifferentcolor]

Terrible Fic Ideas #18: ITFOYL, but make it a time loop

One of my favorite fics of all time is In the face of your light by @noverturemusings, in which a male Lavellan is sent back in time for reasons at first unknown. But I, being me, have always wondered what if we take the precept one step further.

Or: What if Lavellan and Solas were caught in a time loop, relieving the events of the Conclave explosion until their inevitable demise over and over and over again?

Just imagine it:

The original timeline goes just as in canon. Key here is that a elven Inquisitor romanced Solas and had their heart broken and trampled on by the end. (I'm inclined to go with a male Inquisitor simply because the only Lavellan/Solas fics I've liked had a male Lavellan, but either will do. I've chosen to use Mahanon here.)

After three years of fighting each other post-Trespasser, Solas succeeds in tearing down the Veil, which weakens him enough that Mahanon can kill him at the moment of his success.

Although dying, Solas kills his killer in turn...

...and then the world resets.

The first time the world resets, Mahanon stabs Solas through the heart even as his other wrist is seized and forced toward the first rift. Cassandra strikes him down a handful of seconds later and - presumably - the world ends without the magic needed to close the Breach.

The second time he waits until they've sealed the Breach at the end of Wrath of Heaven, then slices Solas' throat while he sleeps. Mahanon flees Haven like the thief in the night he is but is slain by bandits - or mercenaries - or mercenary bandits - who think he killed the Divine less than a week later.

During loop three, Mahanon does the same as previous but runs in the opposite direction on the vague theory that the Avaar will at least wait to hear his side of the story before killing him over the death of a woman who couldn't be bothered to take an interest in any of Thedas' problems until it threatened her own personal power. He manages to last six months that time, until he and everyone else is killed by the unremitting expansion of the Veil, and Mahanon uses that time to think for once instead of act.

The fourth go around he tries. He tries so damn hard to get everything right - to sideline the arrogant ass of an ancient Elvhen god and eliminate any chance he might have of building a power base out of the smoking remains of the Inquisition. Mahanon goes after the Templars rather than the mages, makes sure Briala is executed and all her dirty boudoir secrets exposed, and generally goes out of his way to let people know how little he credits the man he - in his first life - had trusted to the ends of the earth.

It works, in that it takes Solas seven whole years to tear down the Veil rather than barely three...

...but that's of little comfort when Mahanon wakes up chained to the Chantry prison floor - again - feeling ancient in a body which hasn't yet seen war or devastation or even twenty summers.

During his fifth reset, he seriously contemplates slitting his own throat as he waits for the inevitable and only decides against it because the idea of going to all the hassle of bleeding out only to wake up five minutes in the past on a pristine floor is enough to have him teetering on the edge of madness - assuming, of course, that there's anything left of his sanity. So Mahanon sits in silence until Cassandra comes to make her accusations, then silently trails behind her as she leads him once more to his destiny and his doom.

He wordlessly closes the rift . He soundlessly seals the Breach. He wakes up in Haven three days later, lays silent and unmoving in the bed that's still too soft after five lifetimes amongst the shems, and wonders which god he offended so terribly for this to be his fate. He stays in bed for three more days before Cassandra brings Solas to examine him, wondering if the mark addled Mahanon's wits.

Solas is kind during this life - kinder perhaps than in was in the original timeline. Certainly more genuine. Hypocritical bastard tells Mahanon not lose himself to the grief and dies in that life trying to protect Mahanon from a Red Templar. He fails, Solas' blood still on the blade as it pierces Mahanon's heart...

...and Mahanon wakes up in his six loop screaming a word he hasn't spoken since the original timeline: "Vhenan."

Loop six is where I imagine the story starting, which Cassandra bringing Solas in to examine Mahanon and asking him to translate...

...at which point Solas finally, finally realizes that he and Mahanon had been going through the time loops together, and the loops haven't been dreams or imaginings or alternate universes he must contend with, but time repeating itself.

...which changes things.

Honestly, my muse starts to waver around here. I'm inclined to have the sixth and final loop be Solas learning that he can't turn back the clock however much he regrets his previous actions and seeking to make amends - to both Mahanon and elves - as best he can. But I also like the idea that they try, and try, and try, only to realize that love isn't enough to keep them together, and that either Solas must let Mahanon kill him to preserve the world as it is or Mahanon must let Solas kill him to restore the world as it was in some sort of blood magic ritual that will stop the loops for good.

Bonuses include 1) Solas and Mahanon having entirely too much baggage to function for the first half of loop six without screaming at each other in elven every time they try to have a conversation. The rest of the inner circle concludes, quite rightly, they are ex-lovers and Varric would kill for the details, 2) Nearly every weirdness caused living through the same events multiple times is written off as general elvish weirdness by everyone else in the Inquisition, and 3) the truth not coming out at a suitably dramatic moment, like in the Fade or facing Corpheyus, but during the middle of something incredibly mundane, like the middle of a Diamondback game ("You've killed me four times, that has to be worth something.")

And that's it. That's all I have. As always, feel free to adopt, just let me know if you chose to do anything with it.

More Terrible Fic Ideas

[shadowsong26fic]

do i twist; do i fold

Author: shadowsong26

Rating: R

Fandom: BSG

Characters: Gaius Baltar, Caprica-Six

Warnings: Significant discussion of genocide and murder; more oblique references to torture.

Summary: Caprica comes clean a few months early.

Disclaimer: All characters are the property of their respective creators.

Notes: Written for the Year of the OTP event. April prompt: canon divergence. This is one I’ve been looking forward to posting since I decided to do this whole event, and while there are a couple things I keep poking at to reword (particularly the last couple lines), it’s one of those ‘If I don’t just let it go, I’ll never stop’ situations, so here it is. Also, while I know The Plan implies a much tighter timeline here, this a) makes a little more sense to me, and b) makes for a more interesting story, so I’m going with what I’ve got here.

Title comes from ‘Voodoo Child’ (Rogue Traders)

(I am also going to do this for Star Wars and some of my original ‘verses, if you’re interested in checking those out! One ship per canon. The fanfic ones will be posted to AO3 probably a day or two after they’re on tumblr. This fic is also available on AO3 here. Master list of all fills can be found here.)

592 days, eighteen hours, forty minutes.

That’s how long it’s taken to get to this point. To complete her mission.

Well, mostly. She’ll have to remain in position until the very end, of course; to monitor for any problems, to guard against exposure, to make any changes to the program that can’t be done remotely.

It’ll take approximately three months, according to the most optimistic projections.

Three months for the last pieces to fall into place, for the final preparations for the strike.

Six months is a more realistic estimate; twelve is the worst-case scenario.

Worst.

592 days, eighteen hours, forty-one minutes since they met. Not that she’s been counting.

And in a few months, maybe a year, it’ll all be over. Really, truly over. Humanity will burn, she will be reborn, and…

It seems like an eternity. To stay with him, to lie to him--and, yes, she’s been doing that for so long already, and no, nothing has changed, not really, but it feels different.

It seems like no time at all.

Her heart races, and her mind whirls, spinning through all the little moments they’ve shared. Not the big ones--not their first meeting, not helping with his father, not the moment he said yes, but the little ones.

His fingertips, brushing against hers as he passes her a cup of coffee.

Lying together lazily in the morning, talking about everything and nothing.

Dragging the whiteboard out of his office to settle an argument; not really caring who won as they built their equations together.

Even that insufferable amused tolerance when the conversation turns to religion.

The way he smiles when he thinks she isn’t looking.

All the little pieces of the life they could have built together. That they almost have.

It will all be gone.

And he--he won’t wake up after. He won’t be reborn. He will just…burn.

He’s sitting there, next to her, like he has so many times before. If he’s having second thoughts, he’s hiding it well. He’s ready to give her everything she wanted.

Everything she asked for.

And all she can think about is that three months, six months, maybe a year from now, he will burn.

Five hundred ninety-two days, eighteen hours, forty-two minutes.

I can’t do this.

(It’s not just him; it’s all of them--however righteous her people’s fury, when weighed against all of those little moments, multiplied by billions of human beings…but if she hadn’t known him, if she hadn’t--loved--)

“Wait,” she says, putting her hand on his. Stopping him from going any further.

He blinks. “What’s wrong?” he asks.

“There’s…” She takes a breath. “There’s something you should know.”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

His hands are still shaking.

He’s not sure how long it’s been, exactly, since she told him. Since she stopped him. Since he almost--

Gods.

Unsteadily, he pushes himself to his feet; gets another drink; only spills a little. He presses the cold glass to his forehead, reminding himself to breathe, to think, to--

I’m a Cylon.

She’s always seemed so…so real.

His heart races, and his mind whirls, spinning through all the little moments they’ve shared. Not the big ones--not the day they met, not the first time she brought him to her flat, not the moment he said yes, but the little ones.

The feel of her fingers against his when they brushed together across a cup of coffee.

Waking up together and staying in bed for hours, talking or making love or both or neither.

Dragging the whiteboard out of his study so one of them could prove a point, and it not mattering in the end who was right, because they worked it out together.

Even that irrational certainty when she talks about her God.

The way her face softens when she smiles at him.

All the little pieces of the life they might have built together. That they almost have.

…she seems real because she is.

After six hundred days, give or take, of seeing her, of sharing his life with her in ways he never has before, not with anyone, he knows that much for sure.

She is a real person. A real woman. A woman he--

He finds himself back across the room, back on the sofa, not really recalling how he got there. He seems to have brought the decanter along with him--probably wise.

He leaves it on the end table, though; stares at the melting ice in his still-mostly-full glass, and thinks--

What do I do now?

The obvious thing--the smart thing--probably the right thing--would be to turn her in. Tell his friends at Defense that he was…approached. As--as she pointed out, he hasn’t actually done anything yet. Nothing irrevocable, anyway. Nothing he can’t talk his way out of. He wouldn’t have to admit how close--and if she tried to claim otherwise, it would be her word against his, after all.

His reputation would be damaged, possibly irreparably, and he’d likely never work another government contract, but he’d keep his freedom and his head. Which is certainly something to consider.

And she…

He stares into his drink for another moment; slowly takes a sip.

In all likelihood, she would be…be executed. Terminated. Would they even see it as an execution? Would they--could they--even see her as a person?

…but in truth, as much as he hates to admit it, he knows that that is not the likeliest scenario.

A Cylon, one who looks--who feels--so perfectly real? So perfectly human?

No. Murdering her would not be their first move.

She would be studied. Tested, to determine her capabilities, her differences. If she cooperates, she may even be treated--decently. Considering. He would probably never see her again, but she’d be alive. They would both survive this.

Except…

He considers some of his other Defense contacts. What they might do with her. To her.

He shudders again and finishes his drink.

And, yes, all right, it’s entirely probable that cooler--saner--more human heads will prevail, but…

He cannot--he cannot risk that. He cannot risk her. Not like that.

He pours another drink, and pauses, recalling--something else she said.

That he was--that her mission was--their first, best choice for access (and whether he should be flattered or insulted at the thought is something to think about another day).

But he was not--is not--their only option.

The Cylons--her people--have backup plans, alternatives, should her mission fail.

And she doesn’t entirely know what those alternatives might be.

His blood runs cold at the thought.

It doesn’t change what he--what he already knows. He still cannot turn her in.

But he also cannot--knowing what he now knows, he has to do…something.

Can I? Can I really…can I do this? A question he hasn’t really asked himself, not in this sense, not in a long time. He is very good, the best, but getting into this so late in the game, and the risks involved…

…I have to. I have to try.

And if he fails…if he fails, having tried, at least he’ll be remembered as a hero. There are worse things to contemplate.

And she’ll be here.

She came to him for a reason, after all. The first time, yes, but the second as well. If she’d only been doubting her mission, she could have simply walked away. To stop this--if there is any hope of stopping this--she needs him. As much as he needs her.

Whatever…whatever else he might…

His phone is in his hand before he can change his mind, and he dials a number he’s spent five hundred and ninety-three days engraving into his mind and heart.

Not that he’s been counting.

She answers on the second ring.

“Hello?”

“It’s me,” he says, then takes a shaking breath. “I think that…that is, we should…I’d…can you come over? We should…we should talk.”

She lets out a little breath of her own; what it means, what she feels, he couldn’t say. “I’ll be there,” she says.

There’s a long, aching silence, full of things he wants to say but--can’t. Not now. Not yet.

Perhaps not ever.

“…I’ll see you soon,” he says, when he can’t bear it any longer.

“See you soon,” she echoes, and the line goes dead.

Perhaps it’s simply…a decision has been made, he’s taken a step in a direction, but he somehow feels less…

He puts the phone down carefully; closes his eyes; finishes his drink; settles back to wait.

For the end.

For some kind of frakked-up beginning.

…for her.

[felicityphoenix5]

I have. No Goddamn Idea what the otterverse is so uhhhh,,,,,, infodump me? /nf

hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh you have given me the greatest gift ever i am vibrating rn sasdfghjhgfdsadfghj

i could take the easy way out and link you to some posts explaining this wacky gay story, but i have been rotating this in my mind constantly for the past three (THREE??? GOD .) months so i am not goign to do that (here and here they are if u want tho)

SO. The Otterverse is a semi-ongoing improv roleplay story that began as a funny little bit over on @lifesteal-headcanons and then somehow spiralled into....... all of this. ("all of this" including but not limited to; lesbians, hamilton quotes, tma references, more lesbians, ✨trauma✨, the apocalypse, even more gay people [everyone in this is queer in someway], tragic backstories and much, much more)

it is currently on its third and probably final (unless we do some spin-offs 👀) season. Season One (Aug 27ish to Sept 5ish) featured me as c!Felix, an immortal phoenix avian, Divorce Anon (aka Divorce and/or Divanon, played by @wallace-marte) a sort of human who kidnapped c!felix and was the antagonist of that season, and c!Paci (played by @pacificseaotter) an otter hybrid(?) and the resident cheater chaos creator. (there were other characters, but we were the main ones)

Season One was (IMO) the best one so far but I digress. It ended with death and grief and unhappy endings for the characters, as well as shock and general "wtf was that week of our lives man" from the actors.

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

Season Two came barely two days after the first one, and timeline-wise takes place about six months after the events of s1. I wasn't as involved with the beginning of s2, but the apocalypse Happened somehow. no idea How or Why but there's cosmic horrors goin to wendys and blood rain now. a day in the life ig .

I brought back c!felix for s2, and I think I was the only returning character? wisp (@wisp-exe) might've brought back theirs too idk. anyways, the cast basically tripled in size, mostly because of Captain "otterverse georg" @wlttebane playing a whopping 7 different characters. (shoutout to captain fr he slayed hard with that)

Wallace expanded its lore with three new characters, all connected back to Divanon. (Marri, Leon K [not shown] and Carmin). Mist (paci) created a new character, c!Otter.

Stickynote (played by @cats-thoughts) also joined, after making some absolutely banger fanart for s1 (also shoutout to cat its art is so sadfghjklkjh /vpos)

(and here is where you might want to read that first post i linked, as mist summed up this season more concisely than i ever could. zyr really amazing like that <3)

S2 ended in the same way as the first, with death, pain and destruction, a cruel imitation of the past. funny how that happens /silly.

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

and now season three....... ahhh......

s3, due to being in the unfortunate position of starting just when all the actors are Properly Starting School, has been ongoing for about two months now sdfghjklkjhgfds.

not much has happened yet, but I got to work on my flirting skills /silly (they still suck ass [hah.] but yknow) and tensions are on the rise.... so stay tuned for more (when will the "more" arrive? fuck if i know my best bet is christmas break)

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

if this seems vague on the actual details, thats cuz it is. i didnt really want to spoil it for you if you did somehow end up reading it in order (which reminds me i need to start archiving the otterverse again... anghd) so lemme know if you have any follow up questions :DD

[enruiinas]

𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐒: a full, mobile-friendly write up of Law's verses. As a general rule, I love exploring AUs and canon-divergent "what if" based verses and am more than happy to write ALL the verses with ALL the muns. [If there's one thing to never be shy about when approaching me, it's talking verses.] I also love collaborative verse stuff so all of these are open if you see anything you want to jump in on. Relevant TW/CWs listed after each verse. [If blacklisting a tag, please note that everything within the parenthesis is part of the tag, including the semi-colons.)

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐒:

♥ CANON ➜ Events taking place at any point throughout the timeline we've seen explored or alluded to in the manga. One day I'll break this down into pre and post-time skip subverses, but basically when I say canon it's anything from Law's childhood to the current arc. I will generally default to this unless an ask / prompt specifically requests another (OR I find something in your open verses I think it would fit.) ♥ MODERN ➜ Modern verses or spin-offs are usually developmental works in progress, but Law is generally 26, several years into a surgical residency (default: works for Kureha, completed undergrad and med school in 3 years each). Unless otherwise discussed/arranged, modern verse iterations are written with the assumption that Rosinante is alive and took Law in after he lost his family to an accident around the same age as canon. They deserve to be happy and I love the thought of Cora-san being a part of Law's day to day life. ♥ POST-CANON ➜ I haven't had a chance to explore this yet so title and details will be updated in time. This would entail anything taking place after the end of the manga/presumably after Luffy is pirate king. I've explored notions of Law & the Hearts continuing their travels, Law just being a traveling doctor, or returning to Swallow Island and essentially retiring or at least lying low for a while. I always love screaming about "what do you think happens after" possibilities.

𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐒:

[verses that were established/created with specific muns but both/all muns welcome others jumping in! feel free to direct memes or starters at any of these if there's something you see and want to play in. all muns involved in the verses listed here love collaborative verse shenanigans.]

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄:

A (sometimes) canon-divergent "What If" AU built with @climatact. Explores the ideas of Bellemere living, Nami following in her footsteps to become a marine, Law & Cora-san having more time to travel together, and their search for a cure bringing them briefly to the East Blue.

TIMELINE / HIGHLIGHTS:

♥ Law & Nami first meet at ages 12 & 6 respectively, when the former's travels with Donquixote Rosinante bring them to the East in search of a cure for Law. ♥ Law's story goes on to be mostly canon-compliant. Cora-san still dies when Law is 13, he still finds his way to Swallow Island and becomes a pirate, etc. ♥ Diverges again when his path crosses with Nami's in the Grand Line 11 years down the line. ♥ Unsatisfied with her career and quickly caught up in a mutual attraction turned whirlwind romance with the captain of the Heart pirates, Nami leaves marine life behind to join Law's crew. In light of the unplanned addition of a much smaller Heart, the two trek back to Nami's island for the birth and safe delivery of Trafalgar Cora. (occurs during the canonical two-year timeskip) ♥ Six months after Cora-chan's birth, the two return to the Grand Line to head for Punk Hazard, leaving their daughter in Bellemere's care while they're gone. Becomes mostly canon-compliant again once Nami joins the Straw Hats after Punk Hazard.

T/CWs: pregnancy (#tw: pregnancy) & law x nami ship (#♡ // ship: law x nami ;)

𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐘𝐒𝐓𝐒:

A spin-off of Heartverse, also written with @climatact. Explores the same "What If"s and general timeline - only instead of leaving the Marines, Nami focuses on furthering her career to become one of the rare "good" marines, climbing the ranks while carrying out a secret romance with the Surgeon of Death. Sometime around the Dressrosa arc, Nami becomes a member of SWORD, and the two give up on efforts to hide their involvement.

T/CWs: law x nami ship (#♡ // ship: law x nami ;)

𝐆𝐎𝐃𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄:

A "from scratch" AU with @climatact based on a shared love of Greek mythology (and specifically the story of Hades & Persephone). Ft. Law as the god of the Underworld and Nami as the unfortunate mortal who ate a tangerine from the wrong grove. Foregoing the option of re-entering the cycle of life and rebirth, Nami sticks around to remain a thorn in the god's side. In time, the two put aside their initial differences and grow increasingly closer, resulting in a marriage of convenience in Law's attempts to make amends and (somewhat) reunite the mortal with her sister.

T/CWs: pregnancy (#tw: pregnancy) & law x nami ship (#♡ // ship: law x nami ;)

𝐌𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐍 𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐒:

Spin-off of Godverse, also written with @climatact. Taking the same starting point of the love of Hades/Persephone but applying it in a more Victorian setting. A much newer god of the Underworld, Law befriends a kind mortal woman on a rare detour to the surface. Drawn to her sunny disposition, Law finds himself making regular trips to the mortal realm to see her, explaining his long absences away as a side effect of his job as a traveling doctor.

T/CWs: law x nami ship (#♡ // ship: law x nami ;)

𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐗𝐎𝐓𝐄 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄:

A canon-divergent "What If" AU explored with @cptnslog. Explores the ideas of a young Nico Robin finding her way to the Donquixote Family, befriending a disgruntled Trafalgar Law when he joins several years later. The two become fast friends - until the day Robin wakes up to find Law presumably kidnapped by Corazon. With Rosinante's death, all plans of returning for Robin fall through, and the two go about their lives without any closure. Several years later, Robin escapes the Donquixote family, wandering for a while until she eventually finds her way to a second sinister Warlord. (Becomes mostly canon-compliant here; explores feelings of abandonment and strained relations when the two cross paths on Sabaody many years later).

Features @mingos as Donquixote Doflamingo.

Food break/still a work in progress. Still need to sit down and write-up several other verses with @cptnslog / @gumpistol, Cora-lived verses with @cptnslog / @belovedcorvid / @code01746. (Please forgive me/yell if I'm missing anything else - headache making it difficult to think right now! To add: Boa and Law arranged marriage verse with @lightinsonder, Holidate w @climatact)

[ditto-not-on-discord]

"SONIC HAS TERRIBLE LUCK" or "I try calculating time regarding sonic, Part 1."

Ok so before I begin, I have to explain what the hell I'm even doing.

This post exists because of multiple reasons, as any good post does, but the main one I want to bring up is the one shot IDW comic "Sonic's 900th adventure".

This comic, made as a celebration of 900 English language Sonic comic issues, is unique in the fact that it gives us a canon (minimum) number of adventures Sonic has gone on before frontiers: 899, or 900 at the end of the issue.

This got me thinking: "hey how long would pass on average between each adventure?"

THIS WAS A MISTAKE.

So first.... lets get the total number of days straight first. but in order to do THAT we have to make a few assumptions about Sonic's version of Earth and Sonic himself:

I am assuming that the years are the same length as our years: 365 normally, and 366 on leap years

Sonic was born at such a point that he has been alive for 12 normal years and 3 leap years.

I'm also going to give Sonic the benefit of the doubt and say this one-shot takes place on June 22nd, the day before sonics canon birthday, on a leap year.

I'm ignoring Sonic's actual age during most of these games.

Also ignoring the "most of modern sonic took place in a year and a half" thing from the Bumblecast, on account of that it's insane

This gives us the grand total of 5652 Days that sonic has been alive. However, we actually can remove a few days off from the calculation total right off the bat. By once again being in sonic's favor, I am saying the six consecutive months sonic was in jail included a non leap year February. so, Minus 181 days right there.

Currently at: 5471 days, 899 adventures

Also, for my calculations, if we have a confirmed time period for a game or comic arc, the number of days are removed from the total days and if something is resolved during that time that would count as "saving the world", one adventure is removed from the total.

we can also remove another month from the counter, as when in Issue 4 Blaze mentions that the Sol Emeralds spoke of a terrible event, Sonic says that Blaze is SEVEN months late.

Currently at: 5440 days, 899 adventures

Sonic adventure 2 removes 2 days, Sonic Heroes removes 3, and Unleashed removes at least 9 with the day and night mechanic for 2 more weeks removed as well as 3 adventures!

Currently at: 5426 days, 896 adventures

Generations.... generations is weird because it existed outside of time. so we get to remove one adventure just because (also I have no idea if tails double counted these adventures because of the time travel shenanigans. lets just say he did not double count them and continue on.

Currently at: 5426 days, 895 adventures

Now we reach something odd: The Classic Sonic Games didn't really care for explaining timeline (most of the sonic series doesn't but SHHHHHH) so to be charitable, if a zone that is set at night is in-between 2 day set zones, im gonna count that as an additional day.

Sonic 1 is completed in 1 day by these rules, Sonic CD takes one day, Sonic 2 takes 2 days, Sonic Chaos takes 1, sonic 3+K takes 3 (sandopolis is dark enough where a sunset should be imminent or just happened), Triple trouble takes 2, 3D Blast takes 1, Blast (yes this and 3D blast are different) takes 1, and Sonic adventure takes 1. This is batch 1 of who the hell knows. minus 9 adventures and minus 13 days.

Currently at: 5413 days, 886 adventures

Batch 2, here we go: Advance 1 is 3 days, Advance 2 is 1 day, Sonic Battle is 1 day, Advance 3 is 2 days, Rush is 2 days, Sonic 06 Retconned itself out of existence so arguing about THAT is a moot point, secret rings is 1 day, rivals is 2 days, rush adventure is 2 days, Rivals 2 is 2 days, and black knight is 1 day.

minus 17 days and 10 adventures.

Currently at: 5396 days, 876 adventures

Last batch of games, here w- oh yeah I forgot riders. uh... minus 2 more for both.

Currently at: 5394 days, 874 adventures

NOW for the last batch of games: I have NO idea if sonic 4 is still canon, free riders takes 1, colors takes 1, Lost World is 4 days... And finally because of technicalities, I can count Mania and Superstars. Mania is 2 days and so is Superstars.

Currently at: 5384 days, 869 adventures

.... so thats the total for all of the games and the average would be...

... what do you MEAN 6 DAYS BETWEEN EACH WORLD ENDING EVENT??????

... we still have most of IDW to go now. but at this rate I can say sonic doesnt get a fucking break.

to be continued.... later.