#hmm. maybe its the fact that after i stab the other guy i call him ''saint sebastian'' and then we LITERAL ACTUAL GAY KISS

[wabblebees]

thought id update to say; i survived opening night!!! and not only that, it went REALLY fucking well, and people seemed to REALLY REALLY like it omfg... god this is so crazy

[msookyspooky]

Terrible Trilogy

Part 3

wordcount: 4,643

You couldn't help it. You had to call him. You had to call someone after that weird phone call you got from Stu. Even if you couldn't talk about it specifically.

He answered with a long sigh after the fifth ring. "...YN. If you're calling about what Dewey said-" 

"Oh good, Dewey told you already...Randy, hear me out-" 

"NO. No, no, no-" 

You talked over him. "Randy, it was Cotton Weary and he was stabbed and he-....Would you stop that?" 

"No, no, no!  YN, we are DONE with this! Cotton was a giant fuckface that pissed people off. Maybe he owed people money? Maybe he cheated or he cut someone off in traffic? It has nothing to do with us!"  

You knew he was rolling his eyes at you on the other line as you drew out. "Oooohhh...May I remind you who was RIGHT 3 years ago?" 

"Noooooo. It was two guys that resembled them and our freaked out brains thought it was those two idiots. Not blaming you; I was even shocked! I mean, my brain really did think that Tim guy was Stu Macher. Crazy right?" 

You pushed your tongue inside your cheek. "Mm hmm. Yeah...Okay, but I was still right about us being involved." You sidestepped. 

"So, you were right 3 years ago? That doesn't mean anything." 

"Okay but what if it does? You can't avoid it forever." 

"Why not? You used your settlement to buy a big property on a hillside and I moved back to my folks place just so I'm not alone. Like I had a choice waking up from a coma." 

He took a deep breath. "The point is; we both were freakin traumatized by what happened to us not once but TWICE. You faced down five crazies and how you barely got a concussion is beyond me... I almost died! We are not involved. We can't be involved if we mind our business and stay as far away from where Cotton was as possible. It was not related to us but if you go snooping it will be!...So give it a rest. Please YN, just let us mind our business." 

You sighed heavily and leaned back while rubbing your eyes. "Yeah...Alright, maybe you're right." 

"YN, just stay safe. Remember:-" 

You listed off the rules. "No going off by myself, no drugs or booze, no backing up near closed spaces, no saying I'll be right back...I know. I didn't have those horror marathons with you for nothing." 

You both said goodbye and hung up. You wanted to agree with Randy and Stu. It was so much easier to just say it had nothing to do with you. That Cotton was just a freak incident and Stu was playing a prank on you… But you had a weird feeling. 

'Until you get more info, there's nothing you can do but hang tight. So stop letting your paranoid brain think it's Windsor or Woodsboro all over again! What would be the odds? A million to one?' You thought as you leaned back with your head on a pillow on your couch. 

You stopped studying criminology. You went to see if you could figure out two killers and the more you figured them out the worse it made you feel; it ultimately solved nothing. It was easy to hyperfixate on them dead, but alive and still murderers? It made it less appealing and more just a fact. They were who they were and you weren't going to change them.

Sometimes you wish you would have continued. Criminology in itself fascinated you but college felt ruined for you now. Maybe one day, but not right now. 

You sued Stab and Gale Weathers. You gained a decent amount of money from how rich Gale was, the amount the box offices brought in from Stab and how much your character was smeared. You bought a downpayment on a house and had enough money for a few years but you knew it would run out and that mortgage would start kicking your ass. Eventually, you'd have to bite the anxiety bullet and find some way to live. But thankfully that wasn't right now. 

You inhaled deeply and nestled into the couch. 

Some time passed before Cherri got up from the couch, barking and growling at the door. You raised up from the couch and cautiously stood up. You had your gun in its holster in its lockbox on your table. You quickly unlocked it as Cherri continued growling. Opening to see it was gone.

You plastered yourself to the back of the couch, fear on your face. '....What the hell?' You thought, chest heaving at the implication someone else had it. You couldn't have misplaced it! 

Cherri continued as you cautiously crept to the door. You looked through to see nothing.

Suddenly, a scream ripped from you as someone hit your window beside the front door. You screamed again, hands on the side of your head as you saw the mask and the gun in their gloved hand. They aimed at you through the window-

- You shrieked, jerking up from the couch as your alarm system went off. Realizing it was an awful nightmare just like the dozens of others you had… You must have dozed off. You shakily got up from the couch, still in a twilight as Cherri sat up alert at the alarm. You heard banging on your front door.

"YN! Let me in!" 

"...Stu?" You quickly deactivated the alarm and unlocked the door before he barreled in. Blood on his hands and shaken up. 

You quickly slammed the door shut and locked it. Not knowing what to think, even looking at him in fear as if it might be a trick. 

"My phone died. I had to leave the hotel. I came back from your call and she was dead with her blood all over the freakin floor...And I didn't do it!" He breathlessly informed you.

You were half asleep and still trying to comprehend what he was saying. "Who?-" 

"My manager, YN! I couldn't stay there or call the cops. I just got in the car and came back here." He gave you an accusing look. "YN...If you're getting into murder, couldn't you pick someone else?!  I'm flattered you want me to stay that bad but that was my ticket, man! And you had her neck sliced!" 

You shook your head. "What the absolute FUCK are you talking about?!" 

He rummaged in his pocket and shoved it towards you. "Here. Who else would know but you and Billy!?..." His face morphed into an offended glare. "Oh my God...You're both in on it, aren't you?" 

You read what he gave you...It was a note. "I know what you did, Stu Macher." Your eyes widened as you read it. 

"Stu...I swear to you, I don't know what this is!" 

"Oh yeah?" He marched up to you and jerked the paper back. "Then why did you call me!?" 

"I didn't!" 

He eyed you, putting the paper in his pocket. He was clearly shaken up from it and stressed out. "Well, if you pranked me and this was bad timing; you can just admit it...But if you're secretly working with Billy-" 

"Stu! I haven't seen Billy since Windsor!" 

He exclaimed, eyes wide. "Then who?! Because no one knows but you and him!" 

He sucked in a breath as he gripped his hair and started pacing. 

You swallowed and took a deep breath. "Let's just calm down for a second...Did the hotel staff see you?" 

He thought for a moment. His eyes weren't looking at you as he furiously shook his head. "No...I was just there to meet my manager at the room number she texted me. It was one of those hotels with outdoor rooms you just walk up the balcony to get to. I didn't go to the lobby." 

"Camera's?" 

"...I don't know."

"Fingerprints on the door?" 

"No, it was already open...Oh fuck, what if I touched something and didn't realize it? OH GOD...I had to get my suitcase and had to move her body out of the way to get to it...SHIT-" He hunched over and cursed before running his hands over his face. The dried blood stayed on the tops of his fingers. 

You nodded and tried getting his attention. "Okay, okay! So, just lay low. If you used your arm, it might not be that bad...Maybe they'll toss out any fingerprints they do find on account of you supposedly being deceased?...I don't know." 

"Whaddya mean you don't know?! Weren't you going into criminology?!" 

"I quit schooling, remember? Besides, it isn't forensics, it's just criminal behavior." 

You threw up his hands with a sarcastic laugh. "Oh, that'll really help!" 

 "Stu, calm down. You can park your car in my garage and no one will know. Wipe off any blood. Just act like you weren't there. What was at the crime scene?" 

"I don't freaking know, man! Her blood was in a pool on the floor and it looked like a fight happened. Furniture was broken and thrown around. I just had to get lost….I just found the note on the ground next to...A picture." 

"Of?"

He licked his lips and looked at you. "...Sidney." 

You released a shaky breath before coming to your senses. "Shit!" You stamped your foot and hissed under your breath. "You left it?"

"DUH! Sorry but I wasn't touching more stuff!" 

"Yeah, well now that means Stu or Tim will be a suspect if they find your fingerprints anywhere WITH a picture of Sidney Prescott." 

His whole face fell. "WELL SHIT I CAN'T GO BACK!" 

You held up your hand. "No, you're right! Leave it." You felt a mild panic attack happening. "I fucking knew it...I KNEW IT! We are involved-" 

"Yeah, we can pop champagne about it later. Right now, I think we got a fucking problem!" Stu yelled. 

You quickly got to your purse. "Go get your car and use this remote for the garage. Then come get cleaned up in my bathroom and stay in my room for a minute. I gotta call the alarm company and see if they already sent a squad car my way." 

You threw him the remote as he rushed to do what you said and you called. 

—————————————————————

You closed the door, apologizing to the officer. He offered to take a look around and you let him. He left once he was satisfied with your lie that it was a wild animal that triggered it.

You breathed heavily. Nothing was making sense. By how Dewey made it sound; Cotton and his girlfriend were killed earlier this evening and it was brought to his attention tonight through his association to Woodsboro and police work. If Cotton's killer and this one weren't related; it sure was a coincidence. Stu's hotel from what he told you was only a half an hour drive from your place and roughly a three to four hour drive from Weary's condo in Los Angeles. Two killings within a few hours from each other related by two people from Woodsboro and a picture of Sidney?....It was related and no one could tell you otherwise. 

Your mind thought about what Stu said. 'I didn't call him...Did I? What if my mental health is getting that bad?...'

 Stu knew your voice...Maybe someone imitated it; but who? Or the worst possibility...He was lying.

"Hey...They gone?" 

You turned to see him in a different shirt and cargo shorts as he leaned against the wall to look at you.

 "Yeah, they left. " You rubbed your nose bridge as he looked at you. "Stu…" You mumbled. "I don't know what's happening. If I called you it was by accident-" 

"Nope. You said my name and everything." 

You shrugged. "Or I don't remember." 

"Like...You blacked out?" 

"I don't know. I haven't done it yet but PTSD is weird." 

He stared at you a moment and shook his head. "No...You were pretty with it. You basically told me you had an emergency, like, something urgent you needed me to hear and I needed to meet you outside near a set of woods-" 

You looked at him in realization. "Stu...Did you see my car?" 

"The crappy honda? No... All that money from the lawsuit and you got a Honda CR-V." 

"I already had that crappy CR-V before this." You put your hands out. "Okay, Stu!...I have no other vehicles; You saw that in my garage. If it was me; you would have seen my car." 

"Okay but what if you lured me out and let Billy do the work?....But-" 

You waited as he mulled over something. "Yeah?" 

"Her throat was slit. If Billy was leaving me a warning, I feel like he would have gotten more...Gorey. Like, gutted her or eyes stabbed out or something... I would if I really wanted to let him know I was gonna kill him and was sending some fucked up message his way." 

"I don't know if it's Billy but I can promise you I wasn't involved. " You saw the skepticism in his eyes. "You need a place to crash for a few days?" 

"Yep. My hotel plans are gone." 

You nodded, ``Welp, the guest room is open as usual." 

He eyed you a moment. "How do I know you don't want me to go to sleep to catch me off guard?" 

You huffed and raised a brow. "Uh, you're the murderer here! How do I know YOU aren't bullshitting me right now?" 

He gawked at you. "What?" 

"Maybe you murdered your manager and wrote the note to throw me off guard and now you're going to kill me because I rejected you." 

He gave you an unamused scowl. "Please, you think I care that much about a girl rejecting me? You're cute but as if. That's all I'm saying; as if." 

You scoffed at that.  "Okay, whatever…" You held up a finger in warning. "But if you try anything funny, Cherri bites on command-" 

He gave a cocky smirk and a challenging look your way. "Cherri wouldn't bite me even if I did. She loves me." He acted like he was going to stab you with an imaginary knife while sticking his tongue out as a mocking joke. 

Cherri eyed him doing the motion towards you, her upper lip quivering. You used it as a learning lesson to Stu. Pretending to be in pain as you released a cry and pointed at him. Stu jumped as the dog he had been loving on rushed him, baring her teeth. 

"CHERRI. HEEL!" 

Stu was practically on the counter as she backed off but watched him. He looked genuinely scared with wide eyes and his mouth drawn back as he was backpedaling up the counter. You couldn't help the smirk on your lips.

"You think she's JUST here for emotional support? Golden Retrievers aren't just lovable; she is very loyal and smart. She let's me know things my alarm system might not and If she thinks I'm in danger, she will bite you. Plus my old reliable hunk of junk is pretty accurate with aim." You walked over and got your gun's lockbox from the living room, walking through the hall back to the kitchen to hold it by its handle.

Stu eyed your dog as he eased off the counter and Cherri wagged her tail as you petted her. "Good girl. You are a very good protector. " She must have agreed as she looked up at you with big brown eyes and accepted her well deserved praise. 

Stu looked at her offended. "Cherri! I thought we were friends!" 

"Yeah well, sometimes friends try to kill each other huh?" You quipped. Looking over your shoulder as you made your way to your bedroom with your Queen sized bed. Loaded gun in your lockbox in hand with your dog following you. You eyed him before closing your door. "Make yourself at home as usual, I guess...But I'm not the same girl I was 3 years ago. I will shoot you in the head if you try anything Stu Macher and bury you in my backyard." 

He raised his brows at you and blinked in surprise before you slammed your door shut and locked it. Cherri jumped on your queen sized bed and made herself comfortable. You sighed heavily and rested your forehead against the door. You hated suspecting him after all this time and after the last few years of trying to become comfortable around him again...But with Cotton Dead and now supposedly Stu's manager; you couldn't risk it. 

The fact he claimed Sidney's picture was there made you even more upset. 

—————————————————————

"STU!...STU GET YOUR ASS UP!" 

It was early in the morning. You barely slept before the sun was coming up and you just got up and stayed up. You were a little on edge but if Stu didn't try to kill you during the night then you had a decent chance of risking he wasn't going to.

At least...You thought. Until you read your mail like you did at every start of your day.

When you found it, it took everything you had not to crumble it up. You were scared but you were more pissed off that he thought he could pull this shit again. You were trying so hard to forgive him or at least trust him after Windsor just for him to do this bullshit! And so close to the Woodsboro anniversary too!

You barged in the guest room door and ripped off his blankets. He groaned and had a knife already in hand, half asleep. That was okay because you had your gun on your hip in its belt holster. Ready to go. 

You felt your anger fizzle out for just a moment at the sight of him. He was shirtless, and for the first time, you saw the scars all over his body. He was more defined and broader in his shoulders than what he was at 18 the last time you saw him shirtless at a pool. Still lean but he definitely wasn't a teen anymore. His cargo shorts were hanging dangerously low on his hips that your eyes couldn't help wandering to…

"YN, whhhaattt?!"  He croaked, voice heavy with sleep as his eyes squinted up at you. Your anger returned as you shoved the note at him. Trying to keep your hand from trembling with adrenaline.

"Do you think you're that smart or do you think I'm that stupid? I can't believe I let you in my life after everything you did; Fed you, let you stay, tried to forgive you just for you to pull this bullshit!" 

He gave you a confused scowl. "What are you?-..."He trailed off as he saw the note. He instantly snatched it.

You scoffed at him as he read it. "I can't believe you! Are you that much of a piece of shit you're going through my mail?! From Dewey of all people?! Can you be any more of a low down scumbag?!" 

He ignored you as he looked at the note, fully awake now and eyes widening. He shook his head. "In your mail?" 

"Yeah, genius. You opened a letter from Dewey and slipped it in and sealed it back up!" You threw up your hands and walked to the window. "I don't know why I'm even telling you this; you're the one that did it. I just want to know why before I kick you out." You held yourself. Your chest ached at the betrayal. You were pissed off at him for pulling this again but you were more pissed off at yourself for trusting this would ever work.

He stood up from bed, shaking his head. "YN...I didn't write this!" 

You gave a humorless smirk with a huff. "Right, right...It just magically appeared in my mailbox the night you stayed here. How funny it matches the other letters handwriting from the hotel that YOU claim you found." 

He shook it at you. "Yeah and did you miss the part that's not my handwriting? You sat next to me in homeroom at Woodsboro; you know my writing! Look-" He quickly went out of the room. You watched him, not sure what to do.

He marched back in and slammed a piece of notebook paper down on the dresser with a pen in hand. He wrote exactly what your note said.

"You're not innocent, YN. You helped them kill. You helped them hide. You, Billy Loomis and Stu Macher are going to pay." 

You covered your mouth as you were forced to confront the words on the page once again. The fact it was planted and resealed in a letter Dewey sent you with pictures of Tatum you wanted him to send made you sick to your stomach. 

Stu showed you his handwriting compared to the note. The note was entirely too neat and heavy handed to be Stu; writing in what looked like blood...It brought you back. 

"See? Besides, how could I put it in your mailbox if your security system was still up on the doors? I don't know the code to deactivate it." 

"You could have done it last night before you barged into my yard." 

He frowned at you with a head tilt. "YN...It's not my handwriting. This is dated for today. I couldn't have gotten past your dumbass alarms… But how do I know this isn't your doing?" 

You closed your eyes and released a shaky sigh. You looked back at him and outstretched your hand for the pen. He hesitated before giving it to you and you showed him it wasn't your writing either. 

You put down the pen and gave him a serious stare. "Stu...Why would I become a murderer or help someone to kill you? Seriously. After 3 years, why would I do that?" 

"Same goes to you. Why would I kill you after 3 years? I had so many opportunities; you think I'd wait till now? And when I have a chance at being in a movie; you think I'm jeopardizing that?" 

You both stared at each other and your shoulders sagged. He pulled his shorts up as he put his knife on a night table. He sat back down on the edge of the bed. "Can I see the envelope it came in?" 

You hesitated. He looked over at you before you sighed and nodded. You got it from the table and handed it to him. You didn't look him in the eye as he read the address. He glanced up at you as he opened it to see a few pictures of you and Tatum and a short note from Dewey.

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye to see him studying the picture. You wondered if he felt anything at all. Did he just remember her as a good lay or did he genuinely have some fond memories of her? You doubted he even saw many pictures of her since Woodsboro. Why would he? He didn't regret killing her so why would he remind himself of someone he didn't even have human empathy for?

He sat them down and you saw his brows furrow. It was a unreadable look before he looked at the envelope. 

"Does Dewey know?" 

"God no. Don't even suggest Dewey could do this...He would hate me for the rest of his life if he knew about me talking to you behind his back…" 

"Sounds like leverage if he did find out." 

"The letter wasn't completely sealed and popped off too easily. I'd say they opened it from my mailbox or the carrier sometime late last night or early this morning and resealed it. " 

Stu made a noise and showed you a small red smudge in the corner. "Ah ha. Looks like you're right; I can't see that getting past the postal service...I don't see any fingerprints though...Gloves." He threw the envelope on the bed. "Another fucking copycat! Man, can't these posers get a life?!" 

You gave a shaky sigh, swallowing hard. 

 "Stu...This isn't my first letter. I got one the day I met you at that shed at Windsor." 

His face scrunched as he listened to you. 

"It was when I went back. I got a letter saying that they knew what I did. They said that me and you and Billy weren't safe and they were coming for all of us." 

"WHAT?" Stu jumped up from the bed. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?!" 

"Because at first, I thought it was hate mail or Gale!...I let the police analyze it because they were convinced Tim and James were just copying you OR it was just a hateful fan of Gale's character interpretation of me. It was blood from an unknown victim...They kept it; thinking it was from 'Tim' or 'James' threatening me." You air quoted the names. "You didn't really show up in my life again until months later after we talked at Windsor. I guess I just forgot until now...It's not like it's THEE most traumatic thing I've ever dealt with...Or maybe I just didn't trust that you weren't the one that sent it so why would I let you know?" You huffed to yourself. "I can't even send in this new letter to the police and say it was Tim or James because it will lead them back to you!" 

Stu ran a hand over his hair. "So, you're telling me you got one identical to this 3 years ago?" 

"Yes. Handwriting, blood and all." 

The air was silent for a moment. You glanced over to Stu who got up, uncharacteristic rage on his face.

He looked at you and pointed with a snap of his finger. "I'll kill him...I will freaking kill him!" 

You raised your brows. "Huh?" 

"Billy! Who else?! He must be peeved me and you made up and he's trying to off us like the petty jerkoff he is." He ranted as he threw on a shirt. 

You held up a hand. "Woah there!- If that's the case...Why would he wait 3 years? Not only that but why would he use his name too? It's not like we can go to the police so why would he hide and pretend he's a victim too?" 

"Don't know but we need to find out." 

"You know where he is?" 

He hesitated. "Uh...Not exactly but I have a few places we could look." 

"We?" 

"Yes, 'we'! You seriously wanna stay here knowing the killer knows where you live?" 

"God no but...I was just gonna go to my parents place or something. You want me to come along?" 

He raised a brow at you with a slight smirk. "Duh. Besides, I am not letting you out of my sight...Just in case it's a trick on your part-" 

You gave him an annoyed look as he finished. 

"- And your safety, of course." 

You blinked. Unsure what to make of it. 

"So? Whaddya say, Sweetcheeks? Road trip?" 

You shrugged with your mouth open. "I-I guess..I mean...I guess I don't have a choice. I'm sure as hell not just waiting around till the killer pops out." You still couldn't help eyeing him. 

He clapped you on the shoulder as he walked by. "That's the spirit, babe! Murder road trip it is!" 

You turned around. "Hey! I agreed to a road trip only!...Stu!-" You followed him into the kitchen, already not sure about whatever this decision was. 

[merlinssaggyyfronts]

its canon gwen and leon went looking for frogs at night as children right?? which means elyan obviously went with them too mhm? SO

gwen was a master at frog hunting. she got so many that the bucket she was carrying them in overflowed and the trio had to hunt them all down cuz the frogs got loose in leons house (this happened on more than one occassion, they never got caught once,,, if you forget the True Loves Kiss incident)

you must be wondering, op, whats the true loves kiss incident? well my dear child, the true loves kiss incident was when leons mother caught leon with two frogs, and no gwen and elyan with him.

leons mom: son, why do you have two frogs in your hands?

leon, age twelve: uh- mother! this is, uh... gwen and elyan! yes, theyve been turned into frogs by an evil sorcerer and i must turn them back!

leon’s mom who knows full well those are random ordinary frogs: ...and how do you plan on doing that?

leon: ,,true loves kiss?

leons mom: what.

leon proceeded to explain the lore behind the curse of the lady and the frog (or in this case, the servants and the squire) and true loves kiss and the (and more importantly how it was a planotic kiss, cuz romantic kisses are gross and cooties)

gwen and elyan were sitting in an alcove right next to them and heard the whole thing (and still tease him relentlessly about it)

gaius: it seems sir gwaine has been turned into a frog

elyan: heh hey leon why dont you give him the true loves kiss hmm

leon: i-

gwen: oh stop bullying the poor guy, elyan

leon: thank you guinevere-

gwen: it would have to be a platonic true loves kiss remember? sir leon wouldnt want to get cooties after all

leon: i hate you

leon is also pretty good at frog hunting (though not as good as gwen). he often times teamed up with elyan to get half as many frogs as gwen did. hes fallen off cliffs and basicaly died on numerous occassions while on the frog adventures, and gwen swears his heart stopped one too many times during those occassions (they eventually grew desensitised when leon would momentarily die then come back to life, often times playing a game of ‘who can find the coolest looking leaf’ while they wait for leon to rise from the dead once again)

leon is somewhat sad his friends dont seem to be concerned when he dies and comes back (ofc they are, its just that ignoring it out instead of thinking of you actually dying hurts bro), but atleast sometimes he gets to keep the coolest leaf they find as a “thanks for not dying“ gift, so hes content

elyan eats the frogs.

just fucking swallows those little slimy things whole. almost dies every time, but his 10 year old self swears it was worth it (and so does his older, knightly self, thank you very much). hes learned from leon to spit at god in the face and cheat death! (leon: elyan no- // gwen: ELYAN YES)

sometime after gwen became morganas maid, morgana started joining them to skip out on dinners with uther. elyan is quick to object since 1. shes a noble (“leon doesnt count cuz, yknow; hes leon” “hey!”) and 2. shes a girl (“gwen also doesnt count cuz shes *gags* gwen” “i will stab you, lil man”)

his objections are very quickly pushed aside when he sees morgana almost eat a bright red (and incredibly poisonous) frog like it was an apple to prove her superiority to him. (it worked, and he is forever in awe, and wants to actually see morgana eat said frog but gwen and leon were so terrified of accidentally killing the kings ward and getting beheaded that maybe, just maybe, he’d keep it to himself)

morganas a PRO at frog hunting. maybe it comes from her training with arthur and the knights (“but im literally a knight” “shut up leon let me have my moment”), or maybe its cuz shes just good at everything she does, but shes GOOD good.

when they get into pairs to play games (yes they do other things too, sometimes the frogs are just too boring) morgana and gwen would pair up and basically always win so they made a rule to not let those two pair up.

it was a tie at first cuz obviously they only have four people so itd be 2 against 2. the dealbreaker was arthur who chose leon and elyans side purely to dwindle morganas chances to spend time with her crush (“you spend time with her every day! whats some game pairing gonna do?” “im in love with her arthur! we need chemistry! bonding! teaming up and beating up whiny little idiots like you!” “whaT DID YOU JUST CALL ME-“)

arthur joined in once.... emphasis is once. elyan kept giving him dirty looks cuz hes the bloody prince and thus a major arse and at one point convinced him to eat a poisonous worm to prove his manliness (“elyan why would you attempt to assassinate the prince?!” “it was FUNNY OKAY-“), and wouldve died if it werent for the fact they were close enough to gaius’ chambers to be able to revive him.

he was basically banned from going with them ever again (“see this is why we dont go to gaius when leon dies!” “shut up and help me find a cool leaf, elyan”)

random detail: the buckets they’d use are faded green (morgana supplied with the dye- they used to be buckets with metal frog eyes and legs molded onto them (curtesy of our favourite blacksmith children of course).

they stopped going frog hunting as they got older and thus gained more responsibilities, but there were occassions where they’d go.

one of which being elyan running away. on that same night, leon downright ran to gwens house as soon as he heard (and was finished with his duties), frog buckets in his hands. on the outside it did look pretty weird cuz why is a knight of camelot carrying some tiny frog buckets, but leon doesnt care. gwen needed cheering up cuz his brother was a lil shit and hes supplying it. (“dont you have patrol today?” “its in the knights code to be loyal, gwen. im showing my loyalty to you by dragging you froghunting to cheer you up!” “...isnt it also in the knights code to be honest? how did you get out of patrol?” “....um.”)

another occassion was when arthur became crown prince (more specifically after the whole tristan du bois incident) and was basically dragged a crossbow-point to go frog hunting with them (‘them’ being leon and morgana, cuz apparently gwen and merlin had some business to attend to (much to both morgana and arthurs dismay).

sometimes, when the world feels like its caving in on them, leon and gwen like to go frog hunting together. they’d reminisce about the time morgana beat up a badger to defend gwens honor, or the time arthur (who sneaked out with them that one other time) accidentally kebab’d three different toads, or that time elyan wore gwens dress to prove it wasnt that hard to run in dresses (it was. he failed miserably and sprained his ankle)

or they’d just sit by a stream where leon died once, and mourn the members of their little group and what fate brought them.

[shimmershae]

My thoughts on Episode 8--For Blood

As always, placed behind a cut for those of you that would rather escape my babbling, lol.  You’re welcome.  

Sadly, I don’t think this is anticipation I feel.  I’m pretty sure it’s dread but okay.  Here we go.  

This episode has to go up from the rock bottom boredom of last week, right?  

Let me preface what I’m about to say with the truth that I in no way hate Maggie.  She’s been with us since Season 2 and I have an emotional attachment to her, mostly due to my love of Glenn and the way he loved her.  She’s not my favorite by any means, but the fact of the matter is, I do like and appreciate her and don’t mind that she is back because it’s nice to have old familiar faces with us to take us into the final season.  That said?  Forcing Maggie front and center after her long absence ultimately, IMHO, has not worked in these first 8 episodes.  I can’t help but feel if ASZ had been the A story with Maggie/Negan and Daryl/Leah/the Reapers the B1 and B2 story?  These episodes would have been better received overall and not feel so much like they’re trying so hard.  Maybe lead me toward the water instead of shoving my head in it next time, Angela?  Hmm?  

Oh goodie.  They’re opening at Meridian.  Should I get my bathroom break out of the way now or give myself an out for later?  Call it Shae’s choice, lol.  

That flicker of a smirk Leah gave to Carver after their mini walk down memory lane had more spark to it than the entirety of her and Daryl’s toxic relationship.  In the future, maybe Angela will lean all in on them instead of Leah and Daryl.  Something tells me Leah knows this “brother” biblically.  

Daryl recognizes Whisperer moves when he sees ‘em.  Somehow, he realizes Maggie and Negan have banded together however reluctantly.  

Pope doing it “Dixon’s” way but not allowing Dixon to do the actual thing shows the level of distrust and paranoia the man still haves for outsiders. 

Look at Daryl chewing his lips with worry for his people.  If he and Leah know each other even a little bit, she has to recognize that as one of his tells.  

Ooohhhh.  Who took the first stab at Wells?  Maggie?  Negan?  Father G?  I swear.  I took my eyes off the “ball” one second and the whole damn play is halfway down the field.  Sorry.  If you cannot tell, I watched football with the fam yesterday, lol.  

The Walking Dead logo didn’t crumble this time.  Interesting.  Parts of it looked like it had been rebuilt.  With brick.  Wood.  Other parts of it looked reclaimed by nature.  Call me crazy, but that almost looks like an eye/part of a face on the first D.  

Okay then.  Babbling nonsense about the logo over, lol.  Tell me.  Please.  Anybody.  How do the events at ASZ line up with the events at Meridian?  Because it’s night and full-blown storming in ASZ and still daylight at Meridian.  But hey.  Thank fuck we’re in ASZ.  

All the babies huddled together giving me feels.  Sorry.  I know some feel they have no place on the show, but I personally enjoy their inclusion from time to time.  It usually plucks hard at my heartstrings.  

Connie tenderly comforting an injured Virgil is sweet, not gonna lie.  

Aww.  Is that Hershel petting a scared RJ’s hair?  Unless it’s a case of me not being able to pick out and place all the little hands, which it most certainly could be, I’m thinking Judith’s got her hand on her knee and that’s Hershel’s hand in RJ’s hair.  Regardless of whose hand is where, it was a sweet little scene.  What can I say?  I’m easy because Baby Glenn and Baby Rick, ya’ll.  

Oh snap.  The windmill’s on fire and pieces of the wall are blowing down main street ASZ like steel tumbleweeds, lol.  

Anybody else having flashbacks to the barn from Season 5?  Good times.  We still had most of Team Family with us then.  They were in a bad place, hurting and lost and just trying to survive--when are they not just trying to survive?--but they were together.  I miss them.  

Carol and Lydia holding each other.  These two, lovelies, have my whole heart.  

Wells is Walker Jerky, Shaw.  Stop wasting your breath.  

“She did.  My enemy.”  I mean, are we supposed to get the impression Maggie’s been a formidable adversary to Pope?  Because she feels more like a roach that simply knows the best rocks to hide under.  Granted, roaches are hard to kill but still.  I’m gonna need them to give us something better than Maggie being Pope’s enemy simply because she didn’t want to give up her home without a fight because this is frankly unbelievable and bordering on stupid.  

Alright.  So they’ve obviously been sowing the seeds of distrust and defiance between Leah and Pope because she doesn’t like losing family but Daryl?  Man?  You and Leah have differing opinions about how family operates.  Trust me on this.  

So.  Three teams, huh?  Aaron fighting the windmill fire, Carol repairing the breach in the wall, Rosita protecting the babies that represent their future.  Choose your fighters, lol.  Seriously, though.  Why do I have the sinking feeling only one group is going to be shown actually doing their thing?  

Listen.  Am I pissed we haven’t gotten the scene we deserve yet between Carol and Connie after all that’s happened and we’re getting crumbs mainly because Angela wrongly feels the Reapers/Maggie & Negan/Daryl & Leah need more focus?  Absolutely.  You bet your sweet asses.  But Melissa fucking McBride just took the crumbs allotted her and made a magnificent, work of art cake out of it trying all on her lonesome to feed us starving Carol fans.  

Bless Connie wanting wanting to go with Carol.  What a show of trust and sister-like solidarity that must have some hate-rotted guts about to turn themselves out.  

I love Kelly and Connie’s sister bond.  No ill will intended, but It takes the good parts of Maggie and Beth and elevates it beyond anything those two ever showed us.  I really feel like that’s a testament to Angel and Lauren’s real life ease with each other.  

Magna choosing to go with Aaron makes me wonder if it’s possible she feels some kind of residual guilt over Connie.  Not guilt for anything she’s actually done, but simply guilt over making it out.  

Virgil volunteering to help.  Okay.  Damn.  I’m honestly starting to like the guy.  

Judith offering to go with her aunt Carol had me all up in my feels.  I mean, granted.  It was a blink and you miss it scene.  We really deserved a longer heart to heart between that little girl and the woman that’s sacrificed so much to keep her safe and loved her for so long, but you know I’ll gobble any and all Judith/Aunt Carol content up.  Seems to me, Little Ass Kicker is just as afraid of letting Aunt Carol out of her sight as Uncle Daryl.  My heart.  

Gracie and Aaron are sweet.  And honestly?  I find them more realistic and true to what normal parents and children would be like in a ZA than Judith and Michonne no matter how much I love that bond.  I mean no disrespect, but I really do.  

“Why am I keeping you around?”  Pope asking the question we’re all wondering.  

Not Apocalypse Popeye comparing Daryl to a stray dog.  Joe from the Claimers already declared Daryl an outside cat that thought he was an indoor cat.  I did have to internally cheer when Daryl was like “I’m ain’t gonna lick it” talking about the helping hand Pope had extended him.  

“Somehow she has turned the dead against the living.  Oh, that’s impressive.”  The thing about Pope respecting Maggie so much as an enemy is I just find it hard to buy, lol.  Like if this had been Carol, yeah.  But Maggie?  Nope.  They’ve mostly shown her (with Gage being the bewildering exception) to be all bark and no bite.  

Has the house in ASZ really become that dilapidated that they can see through its walls?  Because its original owners dodged a bullet if so.  

Look at Grace hero-worshipping Judith.  It’s sweet.  

Virgil telling Judith Michonne would be proud of her is nice but doesn’t feel as earned as if someone like Daryl or Carol that actually knew Michonne well said it.  But maybe that’s the whole point--Judith needs to hear it from someone she knows isn’t going to just say what she wants to hear.  

Call me jaded, it was a touching scene, but also?  It felt designed to allow Judith to move beyond her very normal and realistic feelings of being abandoned by Michonne, even though she gave her the “okay” herself.  Like she’s still a kid.  Wants don’t always line up with feelings.  Anyway.  Cailey continues to be a bright, shining little star and I love how she’s managed to make Judith a true amalgamation of all the people she’s loved who have loved her in return.  Not just Michonne.  I know people like to overlook and cheapen the fact, but it’s taken a village and entire family to raise her from infancy.  

Gracie really should have known better than play in front of the windows during a storm period, but oh well.  Plot point, lol.  

Seriously, though.  I feel like they’ve teased poor Gracie’s demise in a multitude of ways since the beginning of the season.  I hope nothing ultimately comes of it but I fear it will.  All I can say if the worst comes to happen is poor Aaron.  

Where are Negan and Elijah though?  Ouch.  There they are, taking on shrapnel for the cause.  

Ready the what now?  

There’s ASZ’s Baby Sitter Extraordinaire!  Barbara, is it?  That lady’s been putting in the work since Season 5 at least.  

I’ve honestly grown to love Rosita.  More of her and less of Maggie, please and thank you.  

“Let’s stay away from the windows.”  I’m sorry but I had to LMAO at that.  Still a badass moment though.  

Gabe hobbling toward his assigned sentinel.  At least they haven’t forgotten he’s injured like they seemed to forget Daryl was near death last season before the attack on Hilltop, lol.  

“It’s hard to watch something you care about change.”  Listen, Leah.  Chick.  You and Daryl obviously never really knew each other.  It’s always been obvious but I have a feeling “DIxon” is finally going to show you, spoilers or no spoilers.  

WTF are they calling that thing?  Sorry.  I have just as hard a time understanding Pope’s accent as I do Maggie’s sometimes.  

That’s not love that has Daryl telling Leah she can come with him.  That’s care for somebody he used to know.  There is a distinct difference that’s obviously lost on so many.  How can you really and truly love someone you cannot trust?  Especially in Daryl Dixon’s case?

Why does Angela hate us so much?  Giving us all these Reaper scenes and leaving us to simply imagine Carol and Connie and Kelly working side by side to save the wall?  

I think I honestly could have enjoyed this whole Reaper storyline more, at least a little bit anyway, had they not retrofitted a half-assed romance between Daryl and the story’s weakest link and if only they’d made it the B storyline and given earned deference to the goings-on in ASZ instead.  

I wonder if Glenn taught Maggie how to hot write a car?  I miss my baby Glenn.

Apocalypse Popeye is several fries short of a Happy Meal.  What else is new on this show, lol?  

I care for Maggie.  Mostly for nostalgia’s sake and Glenn and Baby Hershel but damn, man.  She’s not actually proven herself got be worth killing your entire “family” for.  But are too far gone, so.  We’ll make allowances.  

I will say at least this episode is not as abysmally biring as last week’s episode.  

Leah finally giving Pope the throat punch he’s been asking for but I’m not fooled she’s on Daryl’s side here.  She’s always been on her own side.  

Look at Father G returning the favor for Maggie saving him in the tower.  Taking Deaver down!  Poor Deaver barely saw the light of day.  

Here comes that woman scorned part.  I can feel it.  

“Pope is dead.  Dixon murdered him.  He’s with the enemy.”  

Please, Angela.  I’m begging you.  Bring Carol into this story and ramp it the fuck up.  You been idling too damn long and the car is fast running outta gas.  

Bitch really has to die to framing Carol’s Pookie.  

Rosita and Lydia and Carol and Connie and Kelly and Magna have literally been holding up this damn show while Angela farts around with the Reapers bullshit.  Honorable mention goes to Aaron but these lovely, badass ladies been putting in the real work and not getting any of the glory.  You just know they’re tired AF.  

Not my babies Lydia and Judith being the cliffhanger!  Oh and Gracie.  Angela?!  A word.  

Listen.  Carol’s already done that fireworks trick.  That Reaper dude owes her royalties.  Granted, it was on a smaller scale but much more impressive for it because she was left to be the sharpshooter.  

Angela has a point.  It is kind of cool how Team Family have learned from their enemies and assimilated their useful points into their own cache of knowledge.  

I truly feel like the Leah/Reaper storyline would have benefitted from a much stronger actress.  Just saying.  

I know Judith annoys some with her precociousness but Cailey just keeps teeing off on what they give her and personally?  I feel she’s so very talented and light years beyond her little acting counterparts so it still works.  

“They’re never gonna choose each other over the people that they’ve loved and fought for because they simply cannot really trust each other.  There’s sort of, like a toxicity at the base of that relationship.”  Straight from Angela’s mouth.  

“At the end of the day, Daryl chose his family.”  Yeah, he did.  That “I belong with you” shit only happened when he felt they were all gone, including the one he loved above all others--Carol.  Fight me.  

Overall impression of the episode?  

On its own, disregarding how much I can’t help resenting how much time I feel has been “wasted” setting this story up, it was much more entertaining than Episode 7 which was only epic in that it was an epic bore.  There was still too much focus on the Reapers when I just just kept wanting to see what was happening at ASZ.  I mean, they cheated us out of Carol and Connie and Kelly working together. Of Aaron and Magna.  Call it personal preference coloring my opinions if you want, but the characters I care about feel like they’ve been shown the backseat for this self-indulgent exploration of Angela’s OC and her version of self-insert FF with Daryl Dixon.  If we can return to Team Family?  The whole Team Family and not just Maggie and Co. against the world?  You’ve got me.  If not?  Well.  You’ll keep losing me by degrees and you don’t want to do that on the final season.  

Anyway.  The ASZ parts were my favorites per usual.  The episode could have used a lot more of those.  

[remywrites5]

           Remus looked at himself in the mirror as he brushed his teeth. He really needed to get more sleep, the bags under his eyes had taken up permanent residence there, and his roots were starting to come in. He spat into the sink and then rinsed his toothbrush off. When he glanced back up at himself, there was the same harrowing reflection staring back. He needed to at least re-dye his hair pink or else pick a different colour.

           He’d dyed it pink on a whim after his last breakup. He thought maybe going from his usual tawny curls to something else would make him more exciting, more cheerful, more something. “Why are you never smiling?” Benjy had asked Remus all the time. As if Remus should just constantly be smiling like some kind of insane person.

           Remus walked over to his desk and flopped into his rolling chair. He sat with one leg bent up towards his chest and hunched over his tablet. The thing was so old it was practically a dinosaur. The program he used to draw on was always crashing – causing Remus to do almost constant saving. Drawing web comics wasn’t exactly the most lucrative use of his art degree, but it paid the bills.

           There was some sort of ungodly sound outside and then the distinct clatter of something breaking. Remus jumped to his feet in surprise, wondering if someone had climbed up to his flat to murder him. Two shadows appeared at his door and then one of them knocked. Well, if they were murderers, they were of the polite variety.

           Remus walked over tentatively, his pen for his tablet still in his hand as his only means of defense. He figured at the least maybe he could poke a few eyes.

           “I don’t think anyone is home.”

           “He has to be home. I haven’t seen him leave the house in days.”

           “Hmm, paying close attention, are we?”

           “Shut up, Jamie.”

           “Ow!”

           Confused, Remus opened the door to find two guys standing on the other side. The dark-skinned one with glasses immediately smiled, while the pale one with long dark hair kept his face neutral.

           “Hiya! I’m James and this is Sirius,” James said, moving what was in his hand so that he could wave. “We run the bakery downstairs. We just came to introduce ourselves and bring you these!”

           Remus took the container when James offered it, still a little bit stunned by the whole thing, and opened it up. Inside was an assortment of baked goods. “Oh. Thank you,” Remus said, a little bit at a loss for words. “This is really nice.”

           Remus was suddenly struck by the fact that two very attractive men were on his doorstep and Remus was wearing the same hoodie he’d worn for three days. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d put on deodorant. Embarrassed beyond belief, Remus felt his cheeks flush.

           “Aren’t you going to say anything?” James prompted his friend, shoving at Sirius’ shoulder.

           “Hi,” Sirius said, running his fingers through his shoulder-length hair.

           Remus swallowed thickly and quickly put the container of goodies down. He didn’t trust his shaking hands not to drop them. “Nice to meet you.”

           “Whoa, are you an artist?” James asked, noticing the pen in Remus’ hand. “Do you think you could design something for us?”

           “James, don’t impose,” Sirius said, crossing his arms over his chest.

           “I’m not imposing!” James insisted, turning and shooting Sirius a look. “We’ll pay for the work. It’s just right now our menus are so bland! They don’t really say ‘Padfoot and Prongs’ Patisserie.”

           “That’s a fancy name,” Remus said, tucking the pen behind his ear so that he could shove his hands in his pockets. Suddenly they’d gotten all sweaty.

           “Yeah well, this wanker is half French, so he wouldn’t let me call it a pastry shop,” James said teasingly. “By the way, you haven’t told us your name.”

           “Oh,” Remus said, realizing that James was right. He shuffled his feet slightly and kind of wished James and Sirius would leave. He hadn’t had such a long social interaction in months. This was getting to be a bit much, and James’ enthusiasm was draining. “Remus. Remus Lupin.”

           “So do you think you can design something for our menus?” James asked excitedly, his hazel eyes big behind his glasses.

           “Um, sure, I’ll take a stab at it,” Remus offered, even though he kind of didn’t want to. He had deadlines to meet and he was already a little behind. But then James and Sirius had brought him baked goods without having even met Remus before. Besides, how hard could designing a menu be?

           “Great!” James said, slapping Sirius on the back. “Isn’t that great, Padfoot?”

           Sirius sighed. “Sure is.”

           Remus pulled out his wallet and handed James one of his business cards. It had been Benjy’s idea that Remus get them. This was only the second Remus had even given out. The first one had been given the Benjy. What a waste of money.

           “My email is at the bottom,” Remus explained, pointing to it on the card. “Just send me the details of what you want and I’ll work something up.”

           Sirius tilted his head to the side. “What are your rates?”

           “Um…” Fuck, Remus hadn’t exactly thought about it. He knew what he charged per page on his web comic but this was completely different. “How about you just, um, let me get a free baked good from time to time and we’ll call it even?”

           “Of course!” James said, nodding emphatically.

           “Hold on,” Sirius interjected, putting his hand up to stop James. “For the rest of time you want free shit from us? Just for a doodle?”

           “Sirius –“ James cut in, his face slightly aghast at his friend’s harsh tone.

           “I – I won’t abuse it or anything,” Remus said, feeling his face heat. Christ, the way Sirius was looking at him made him nervous. “It won’t be every day or anything like that.”

           Sirius huffed and turned his face away. “Fine. But I reserve the right to cut you off.”

           “Okay.”

           “Perfect,” James said, tugging on Sirius’ arm. “We should get back downstairs. We’ve still got a lot to do before we open. I’ll email you later, Remus!”

           “Sounds good,” Remus said, waving after them as they started down the fire escape. The moment he closed the door, he felt like he could breathe a little easier. He didn’t know what Sirius’ problem was, but the fewer interactions Remus had with him the better.

                                                           ***

           Remus finished up the latest update for his comic and sat back with a groan. It was already 10:30 at night and Remus hadn’t had any dinner. For once he had been in a good flow and hadn’t wanted to stop. Now his stomach was so empty it hurt. He couldn’t remember eating breakfast either.

           He walked over to where he had left the baked good James had dropped off and carried the container into bed. He sat munching on them as he scrolled through his phone. He had eaten about half of them when he remembered James was supposed to contact him. He pulled up his email and sure enough there was a message from James Potter.

           Apparently they wanted something kind of classy involving a buck and a black dog. Remus was intrigued, and popped a custard crème into his mouth. Their stuff really was mouth-wateringly good. Remus was glad he had asked for pastries instead of cash. While he could use the money, he tended to live on instant noodles and bacon sandwiches. Having something from the bakery from time to time would be a real treat.

                                                           ***

           Remus’ flat was on the top floor of the building and it meant he had almost exclusive rooftop access. He hadn’t done much with it except put out a table and two chairs. He really only went out there to smoke anyway. He stood by the side of the roof with his elbows on the ledge, watching the street below, his cigarette resting between his lips.

           Sirius exited the bakery and walked down the side alley of the building. He seemed to be having a heated discussion with someone on the phone. Remus felt himself tracking Sirius with his eyes, even though he didn’t mean to.

           “Damn it, Reg, I already told you –“ Sirius seemed to be cut off by the other person on the phone. “I don’t care if they cut me off. I’m not going on a blind date that my mum set up with a woman! I haven’t lived in that house for five years and she still thinks she can control me. Now she’s even roping you into it.”

           Remus felt a bit bad for eavesdropping, but the street was relatively quiet at that time of day, so it was difficult not to hear. Remus wondered why Sirius had said woman like that, as if he were offended by being set up with someone female. Remus didn’t want to get his hopes up that Sirius might also be gay. Thinking that was a dangerous route to go down. He tried to finish up his cigarette and go back inside before he was spotted, but it seemed Sirius was done with his conversation. He dropped his phone by his side and looked up at the sky. His eyes seemed to immediately land on Remus and Remus felt his cheeks heat up in response. He took a slow drag of his ciggy and let it out, letting his eyes drift away as if he hadn’t just been staring.

           He wasn’t wholly surprised when he heard footsteps making their way up the fire escape. He finished his cigarette and lit another one. He usually didn’t chain smoke like this, considering all the nicotine often made him dizzy, due to how little he ate most days. He turned when Sirius made it onto the roof and somehow managed to meet Sirius’ accusing stare.

           “How much of that did you hear?” Sirius asked, slipping his phone into his pocket.

           Remus scratched his cheek with his free hand. “Uh, the whole thing?”

           Sirius sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Can I bum one of those?”

           Remus opened the pack and shook one out towards Sirius. Sirius slid it between his lips and leaned in when Remus flicked the lighter to light it. Remus hadn’t noticed it the first time they met, but Sirius had grey eyes. Remus had never seen someone with eyes like that before.

           Remus had no idea what to say, so he just continued smoking, watching Sirius out of his peripheral vision. It was a little awkward, but not unbearably so, and it seemed Sirius was happy to smoke in silence. Sirius’ apron was covered in flour, and what Remus hoped was jam of some kind. not something more nefarious based on its red colour. The last thing he needed was a Sweeney Todd situation in his building.

           Remus and Sirius finished their cigarettes at the same time and both killed them in the ashtray. They were standing so close, should to shoulder, and Remus had no idea why that made his heart race. He turned towards Sirius in order to say his goodbyes, and suddenly Sirius was even closer.

           “Well, I should –“

           Remus didn’t finish that sentence as Sirius was leaning in. He was moving with intent and his lips just barely brushed against Remus’. Remus gasped, the sound getting swallowed up as Sirius’ lips pressed more firmly against Remus’. Remus let himself enjoy it for a moment, Christ, it had been so long since he’d kissed someone, before he brought himself back to his sense.

           “What are you doing?” he demanded, pushing Sirius away.

           Sirius’ eyes searched Remus’ for a moment and then he took another step back. “Fuck, I – I’m sorry. I don’t even have an excuse.”

           Remus grinned as he watched Sirius flounder for a moment. He decided to let Sirius off the hook. It was just a little kiss after all. “Hey, I’m almost done with the menu design. Do you want to see it?”

           The tension in Sirius’ shoulders ebbed at Remus’ offer. “Yeah, sure.”

           Remus told Sirius to sit down at the little table while Remus went inside to get his tablet. He brought it out and sat down across from Sirius. He opened up the menu design and placed it in front of Sirus. He was actually a little nervous as Sirius looked it over. It was a buck and a dog running through a forest surrounded by berry bushes. James had explained in the email that their homemade jam was a huge selling point for them and they wanted the menu to emphasize that.

           “It’s not too dark, is it?” Remus asked, chewing his bottom lip.

           “No, I think it’s perfect.” Sirius glanced up, and for the first time Remus had seen, Sirius smiled. “We’re doing a soft opening in two days. You should come.”

��          “Will I have to pay?” Remus teased, resting his chin in his hand and looking at Sirius.

           Sirius laughed. “Fine, you don’t have to pay. What kind of pastry do you like best? I’ll make it for you.”

           Remus considered it for a moment. “Jammy dodgers.”

           Sirius’ grin widened. “You got it.”

                                                             ***

           Remus went to the soft opening, even though he hadn’t been around that many people in a while, and it put his social anxiety through the roof. He met James’ wife, Lily, and their son, Harry. He also met quite a few of James and Sirius’ closest friends. Even though everyone was very nice, Remus couldn’t help feeling a bit like an outsider.

           However, Remus didn’t miss the way that his jammy dodgers seemed to be the only ones with little hearts in the middle. That knowledge alone was enough to make him stick around.

                                                           ***

           Remus was in trouble. His web comic was about a werewolf and a vampire that fell in love with each other. The werewolf character struck a striking resemblance to Remus, although the character had Remus’ original hair colour. The idea had come to him based on his name. The vampire character, however, had short dark hair and red eyes. Yet, whenever Remus found himself drawing him, his hair seemed to be getting progressively longer for no discernable reason and his eyes seemed to be grey.

           It didn’t help that Remus saw Sirius pretty much every day. During his lunch break, Sirius would bring up something from the bakery, and they would sit together at the little table and eat and smoke. Remus had gotten to know Sirius, little by little, cracking away at Sirius’ shell to the gooey center underneath. Despite his first impression of Sirius, and his original cold exterior, Remus found the man himself was mushy and romantic and sweet.

           Remus told Sirius about the fact that he’d always meant to make a little rooftop garden, but as of yet hadn’t really gotten around to buying any plants. Sirius showed up the next day with a little tree.

           “It’s called Dogwood,” he’d said with a knowing grin. He had continued to buy Remus several flowers and plants since then. He’d even brought some herbs for cooking, even though Remus insisted he didn’t really cook. Every time Sirius and Remus found a place for the new plant, Sirius would get that same smile. A smile that had started to cause butterflies in Remus’ stomach.

           There was no talk about the conversation Remus had overheard or of the kiss they’d shared. Remus figured both topics were off limits.

           Maybe that’s why he couldn’t get Sirius out of his head.

                                                           ***

           Remus dropped his head back and groaned. “I told you if you didn’t stop me I would eat all six éclairs.”

           “An impressive feat,” Sirius said, grinning behind his wine glass as he took a sip.

           “I hate you,” Remus said, scrubbing his hand over his face. He was starting to sweat a bit from overeating. “I’m going to put on so much weight.”

           “You could use some more meat on your bones,” Sirius responded with a shrug. “You barely eat as it is.”

           “I was right, this is a Sweeney Todd situation, you’re fattening me up to put me in a pie,” Remus bemoaned, clutching his stomach. That last éclair had really done him in.

           “We don’t even serve meat pies at the bakery,” Sirius said in amusement. “I think you’re safe.”

           “I’m not buying it,” Remus said, staring at Sirius accusingly. “Why else would you bring me all these sweets?”

           Sirius glanced away, twirling his wine glass between his fingers. “For an excuse to come see you.”

           “Oh,” Remus said, a blush rising to his cheeks. “Really?”

           Sirius stood up and walked over to Remus, placing his hand on the back of Remus’ chair, and leaning into him. “So, I made a mess of our first kiss. Think you might let me try again?”

           “Um.” Remus stared up at Sirius and let out a shaky breath. “Yes. W-we can do that.”

           Sirius slid his fingers through Remus’ curls until his hand came to rest at the back of Remus’ head. Then he guided their lips together into a soft kiss. Remus opened his mouth first, and Sirius was quick to follow suit, their tongues meeting in a mixture of chocolate, wine and cigarettes. Remus eagerly chased the taste from Sirius’ mouth.

           Sirius pulled back after a few life-altering moments. Remus felt his eyes flutter open to find that Sirius was smiling at him. God, Remus loved it when Sirius smiled. “I could eat you up, I really could,” Sirius sang softly.

           Remus busted out laughing. “Do not sing Sweeney Todd at me when you’re trying to be romantic.”

           Sirius chuckled and pulled Remus up into a hug. “Noted. Should I just tell you I love you then?”

           Remus hugged Sirius back, burying his face in Sirius’ neck, ignoring the deep blush currently on his face. “I-I think that would work.”

           “Well?” Sirius asked expectantly, turning his face and pressing a kiss to Remus’ forehead.

           Remus hugged Sirius tighter. “I love you too.”

           Remus stood there, in a moment so like a fairy tale that he didn’t want it to end, wishing he could freeze time. He stood in the moonlight, embracing the man he had come to adore, surrounded by all the plants Sirius had bought just for him. It felt like more than Remus deserved, but he wasn’t about to let it go. He could only hope the next moment would be just as sweet.  

[votederpycausemufins]

So, took a bit longer to write this since I was moving back home now that the school year is done and as you probably saw if you follow me, I created the Shared Space au! I’m really proud of that too, so check it out! and send asks for it too!

anywho, tagging time! @petrichormeraki @helleborusangel

Jrum stood facing Grifect, sword at the ready. He just needed to buy some time because there was something easy he could do. Instead of having an actual communicator, it had been built into his system at one update, so he didn’t need to get it out and type. Instead he could just send it mentally, though it could be a little odd at times.

But right now it was important. Jrum got a message ready and sent it to Mumbo, then to Grian. Telling them he was in danger and Tommy probably was too. But there was a problem, he didn’t get a message back from them, but an error.

“Sowwy, but I can’t wet uwu caww fow hewp! Thawt wouwd make my dad mad. If they gow aftew Tommy, they’ww see youw bwothew iws gone.”

Jrum jumped at Grifect, slashing his sword at the other bot. An arrow hit him as he ran forth, a second when he hit Grifect. Not wanting to get shot anymore, Jrum kicked the dispenser, pushing it out of Grifect’s reach. He attacked with his sword again, but a shield materialized on Grifect’s arm and deflected the attack. “That’s not fair!”

“Why wouwd I make iwt faiw? I wawnt tuwu win awnd hacking iws easy. You’d awweady be dead if I couwdn’t wisk wetting a message out thawt I was the owne who kiwwed uwu.” Grifter explained with a giggle, hacking in a new dispenser. “At the vewy weast kiwwing machines won’t duwu thawt, then I cawn pwetend iwt was juwst an accident whiwe you’we fine! But if aww my data iws wight, once you’we dead, you’ww be whisked away fwom thiws wowwd again!”

Jrum hesitated at that. He would? But he lost a life in the SMP and came out fine. But then again they had weird respawn rules, Tommy was proof of that. Jrum thought about trying to run, but then had an idea. If he would have an issue with respawning, Grifect would have to have the same issue!

Jrum pulled out a bow and fired it at Grifect before pulling out an axe. The helsbot put their shield up for the arrow, so Jrum was quickly able to chop it in half with his axe. Grifect’s eyes widened which let Jrum know something else, the other bot wasn’t good at combat or have a program for it. “You asked Xannes how to be a better hacker?” Jrum swiped his sword at the bot. “He’s a good hacker because he had to train all his skills. Xisuma is the best admin, so he needed to beat that. But he also needed to be good at everything!” The sword managed to tear into a weak part of Grifect’s body at a join. “You may be a hacker, but you have no clue how to actually use what you have! And that means I win!” And the sword sliced Grifect in half, the robotic body disappearing in smoke before it could reach the ground.

Jrum panted, having used a lot of energy for that. He wanted to close his combat program to conserve power, but he didn’t know if anyone else would show up. He wasn’t even sure where his hels version would respawn. But the fact that he needed to respawn at all was good news, so Jrum attempted to send another message and smiled as it went through. Now people would know what was going on.

.

.

.

Grian kept glancing at his comm, worried out of his mind while he wasn’t with either of the bots. He had just gotten them back and while they looked like they were getting better, he couldn’t help but imagine the worst. It also didn’t help that he was dealing with NPG, Xannes and Sense all in one room. 

He couldn’t help but sigh in relief when he got some messages from the boys. Jrum was still having fun playing with his hels copy and Tommy seemed to be taking care of Grum. The best part was the message that Grum was cuddling with Tubbee, which was great to imagine. It was just a shame Tommy could send a picture without disturbing them.

“So are you guys close to being done arguing?” Grian spoke up, getting up from where he was sitting. “I’m getting a headache from it all and Mumbo’s not here to help.”

“You can always go for the next best thing.” Sense suggested, making Grian scrunch his face up in disgust.

“What would Grifter think?”

“As if he wouldn’t want some fun with a clone.”

Grian shuddered. “Why are you like this?”

“Because Grifter and I love each other, which is surprising that you can’t do that as the ‘good’ versions.” Sense replied, crossing his arms.

“Hey! Those two of course love each other, they’re just not gross about it.” NPG argued for Grian. “And Even Xannes is okay with his stuff.”

“Ye-Hey!” Xannes complained, but then was stopped as their comms buzzed. Everyone looked away, Grian going over to his own and reading two messages, watching as a third appeared.

Grifect was slain by Jrumbot

<Jrumbot> Something’s wrong with Grum and Tommy. Grifter’s been up to something and my copy’s been hacking.

Grian was slain by PerfectSense

Grian watched as his own death message appeared as he was blasted in the back by a death ray Sense had on him. When his eyes next opened, he was in bed and heard a scream in the distance. His comm was still in his hand since he was holding it when he died. There were three more death messages, one for Xannes, one for Tommy and one for NPG. 

The one for Tommy was the most concerning with Jrum’s message, so Grian jumped out of bed and broke his window to go through, not wanting to go through the main hall and run into Sense again. A few shards of glass cut into his wings from the shoddy break and Grian’s recklessness, but he didn’t care, needing to get there fast. He flew as fast as he could to get to the old hobbit hole, glad it wasn’t too far away.

Grian’s eyes widened as he got into the place. It was a mess and Grum was standing in the middle of it, holding a sword and staring at Tommy’s bed. Tubbee flew near him and was stabbed by the sword, making Grian hold his breath before the bee popped out of its hive again. The avian was glad that Xisuma had set it up so that the bee could respawn since Tommy had been scared of something happening to it.

“Grum, put the sword down.” Grian said. He wanted to reach for a weapon, but realized he hadn’t grabbed any before rushing over there. He frowned as Grum didn’t move, instead killing Tubbee again. “Grum, put it down!”

Grum put the sword down, slowly laying it down on the ground. Grian started to take a step towards the bot, but they immediately turned around, pulling out a crossbow and shooting Grian with it. Grian yelled as the arrow struck him and he looked at Grum, now realising it wasn’t his son, but the hels version. “What did you do with Grum?! And it said you killed Tommy too. How? You left the world with Grifter and didn’t-”

Sefter moved so fast Grian barely comprehended it. Grian’s wing deflected the attack, though an axe chopping into it still hurt. At the very least it was weak as Sefter was just bringing the weapon out, but he was just after any damage. Another attack came down on Grian’s arm before the bot changed to another crossbow, shooting Grian point blank.

Grian attempted to attack back, even though he only had his fists and wings as weapons, but Sefter kept dodging them. Grian huffed, finally noticing the magic radiating off of the robot. A strong speed potion. There was no way he could land a hit on Sefter, especially without a weapon. But that was fine, because it finally made sense. Tommy wasn’t here, likely in the other half of the hobbit holes. Grum also wasn't around because someone messed with the messages and he had left the world, not Sefter. Because of that, there was no reason for him to be here.

When Sefter next attacked, Grian dodged, letting himself fall. He opened a portal just below himself, letting the magic envelop him before closing it again so the bot couldn’t follow. He felt like he was falling for a few moments before opening a second portal, taking him out of the Watcher’s world and into the SMP.

.

.

.

The first thing he heard was someone crying. It sounded familiar, but at the same time he couldn’t place it. A voice that spoke up definitely was recognizable though. “Hmm, not sure it worked. Why not hit him again harder this time?”

“Tech-” He got out before something slammed into his gut, winding him. “Wh-What the fuh?” He managed to wheeze out.

“I-I’m s-sorry. I d-didn’t… You s-said he was- wh-why are you laughing?”

“You’re a f-fucking bitch Techno.”

“Nice to see you too Tommy.”

Tommy groaned as he sat up, having trouble as he found Grum sitting on his lap, holding a book in his hands like he was ready to bludgeon Tommy with it. That was probably what hit him in the gut now that he thought about it. “What the fuck happened?”

“The kid got the revive book that Dream had and used it to fix you. Did the same for Wilbur.”

Tommy sat up just a little bit straighter. “Wait, Wil’s alive? You’re serious?””

Techno gestured to Grum. “Yeah, apparently this one half revived him while we were all gone.”

“This one? His name’s Grum.” Tommy said, crossing his arms.

Techno crossed his arms back. “Does it matter?”

“He’s our fucking nephew!” Tommy complained, making Techno huff.

“And? So far all of my ‘nephews’ have tried killing me.”

“B-because you did it first.” Grum piped up. “I tried to be d-diplomatic with y-you and-”

“Yeah, well I hate government.” Techno cut Grum off.

“Yeah. I know. It was sort of my job to account for people like you. But it’s fine! One uncle is enough!”

Tommy chuckled. “Hey, maybe you’ll like Wil as an uncle too. Then you’ll have two.”

Grum turned to look at Tommy again. “I was already accounting for him in my count as I already had encounters with him here before. That is the one I was referring to.”

“Wh- Hey! Why am I being excluded?!” Tommy shouted while Techno smiled slightly. 

Grum recoiled slightly, which made Tommy back off a bit. “You… you said I could call you something else. Just because you’re actually my uncle… you’re sort of not.”

It took Tommy a bit to realize what Grum meant. He supposed it was true, a week ago, they hadn’t known they were actually related to each other. “Well, alright, if you’ve only got one uncle, I’ve only got four brothers! Take that Techno!”

The hybrid just rolled his eyes while Grum tackled Tommy with a hug. Tommy patted the bot, rolling his own eyes, though it was more sarcastically. “So kid, why not start with Tommy?”

There was a moment of confusion from Tommy before Grum suddenly stiffened, letting Tommy know that whatever was being talked about wasn’t the greatest thing. “What are you talking about?”

“Something got brought up before we came here. I figure since you two seem close, he should be telling you, especially if I’ve already been told.”

Tommy leaned back to look at Grum. They didn’t look scared as much as they were nervous. “Hey big man, what is it? If it’s something that happened because of Dream, I won’t be mad. I mean, you kinda killed me and I’m fine.”

Grum fidgeted a bit, still looking nervous, but then he answered. “Um, I think I have something called chat? At least that’s what Techno called it.”

Tommy was taken aback and looked at the piglin. “Yeah, well, chat’s just what I call it. They’re basically just voices.”

“Right… sorry.” Grum apologized.

Tommy looked between the two of them again. “Wait, so you’ve got your own form of chat? They’re not telling you to be as bloodthirsty as Techno, right?” Tommy asked, and Grum quickly shook his head. “Then yeah, it’s fine. Besides, even if I didn’t like it, your dads do so-”

“They don’t.” Grum cut Tommy off. “You’re… I’ve only told two people and you’re the second. I thought it was bad.”

“No, you’re fine. It runs in the family.” Tommy assured the bot. “Plus, they don’t sound too bad, so it’s fine.”

Grum fidgeted some more. “Well… Dream isn’t the nicest-”

“Wait, you hear Dream in there?!” Tommy couldn’t help but stand up in shock, causing Grum to fall off the bed. “Uh, sorry Grum. I just- Dream?! Really?!”

Grum rubbed his head. “Yes and no? He’s not like the one that was admin here, at least mostly. And they’ve kinda been around before I even knew you.”

Tommy didn’t look entirely convinced, but he didn’t want to make Grum even more upset. “I guess that’s okay. Who else do you remember the names of?”

“Um, all of them. There aren’t many. There’s Dream of course, but also Eyes, Gor-”

Tommy didn’t need Grum to continue. “I found your book. You hid it in your charger. Their names were in there. I mean, I don’t know how you got PM in your chat, but it sounds cool.”

“You found my book?” Grum asked, tilting his head. “And it was in my charger? Who put it there?”

“Uh, I thought it was you. I mean, you sent me a message to go there, though you used Eye’s name.”

Grum shook his head. “Then I didn’t do that. Eyes did.”

“What do you mean Eyes did?” Techno asked. “How can your voices do stuff like that?”

Grum looked even more confused now. “But… Is that not supposed to happen? Eyes and Console have both been doing that.” And then Grum’s confusion turned to panic. “I thought you said it was okay?”

“Shit.” Tommy cursed, sitting back down to pull Grum into a hug. “Yeah yeah, it’s okay. Just different. Fuck we need Mumbo and Grian.”

It was perfect timing, as just as Tommy said that, Techno’s communicator buzzed. The hybrid took it out and read the message before showing it to the teen.

Grian joined the world.

[robotslenderman]

Eternal Hearts Liveblog, pt 1

Special thanks to @missn11​, who is probably mortified their name is associated with this travesty of a post, for letting me get my filthy little hands on this piece of embarrassing VTM history.

Okay guys, time to do the thing that’s gonna get me cancelled by fifteen-year-olds in the year 2032:

I’m gonna liveblog Eternal Hearts.

I once promised myself I would never make a rape joke, but today I break that vow because even the rape scenes are (sometimes) just that fucking ridiculous that I had to make fun of them.

This book is just.

Guys.

It’s GLORIOUS.

In the first twenty-four pages alone we have:

A guy is confronted by a locked door, so he whips his dick out. Everyone else acts like this is completely normal.

A guy meeting Final Death because a politician sat on his face. RIP in pieces Noah.

A mortal setting herself on fire, waving her arms around and running at a bunch of vampires yelling “DIE, YOU BASTARDS!”

A guy using his dick as a key ring. (Yeah, it’s the locked door guy.)

Lucita given the Hallowe’en treatment, in that she’s covered with sewage -- but sexy!

Daddy kink on top of the Washington monument.

Only some of the above makes sense in context. Some of it is as baffling in context as it is out of context.

This is the funniest shit I’ve ever read. Nobody told me about this when I went in holy shit.

Time to open this sucker up!

Liveblog under the cut!

DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT, THIS IS YOUR FINAL WARNING. IF YOU DO NOT KNOW WHAT ETERNAL HEARTS IS, DO NOT READ THIS LIVEBLOG, HOLY SHIT.

You’re in for a ride, and it’s the edgiest, unsexiest ride ever.

First thing I notice: Eternal Hearts is, in fact, written by a woman. Which may mean that if she wanted to scare the shit out of her female readers, she'd know exactly how to do it.

gulp.

(^ I wrote that back when I thought I was gonna traumatise myself by reading this. OH BOY)

Next bit, the rape book is opened by the following foreword:

What follows is an essay that basically boils down to "no! :D but we wrote it anyway!”

Partway through that is this quote:

We’ll come back to that quote later. Several times, I predict.

Aaaand we open straight into a gang rape scene! Oh joy. And there’s church spires, to make it extra edgy.

Oh but then they give her the Kiss so she enjoys it! Yay!

Oh.

She's a shovelhead.

They never mentioned THIS part of the Sabbat recruitment process.

and now she's underground and buried and being raped again? Somehow. Like somebody’s got their entire goddamn fist in there. While under six feet of dirt. I know someone’s got their entire damn fist in there because the Shovelhead’s thinking about how somebody got their entire goddamn fist in there.

(Yeah this is the bit I had to make jokes about because it was that fucking ridiculous. I started this out trying to be respectful. I failed. Miserably. I just can’t fucking do it this is too -- too -- Eternal Hearts-y.)

Like the author just turned to the other people in the credits page and pitched this idea: “guys. Hear me out. What do you think is scarier than being raped or being buried alive?”

“idk what?”

“being raped after being buried alive!”

“That’s a GREAT idea!”

(”Lucy didn’t even break the rules as much as I was willing to let her” Remember that quote? Thank god for that.)

Jean - for that is our poor Shovelhead's name, RIP - seems only mildly concerned about the rape. and the fact it’s still happening.

Like yeah, serious talk, putting my respectful hat on: to be fair, everyone responds to trauma differently. You know how I respond to trauma? I make jokes about it. Like I’m the kind of person to say “what are you gonna do, STAB ME?” for the lols when a guy is pointing a knife at me.

Okay, respectful hat back off, back to edgy humour.

Anyway she’s being fisted by somebody while also six feet underground, somehow, and daydreaming about the guy she’s stalking and about how she’s in love with him, hmm, maybe he had something to do with it? She’s not entirely sure.

(ETA: So an anonymous Discord friend was reading my liveblog and said this:

and I laughed so hard my dog actually pawed at me because she was worried.

Yeah, I’m going to hell, but at least I know I’m taking you guys with me.)

Anyway she starts digging her way out, and I guess she’s still being fisted while she’s digging her way out???? IDK they didn’t say it stopped??? Like that’s gotta make digging your way out difficult.

And then cut to Lucita!

Walking past a protest outside a sex shop. There’s a bunch of Christian protestors outside because they’re bored or something. We get straight back into rapiness with a Dominate:

Damn Lucita, if jizzing your own brains isn't the hottest image you can give a guy, I don't know how what is.

Lucita decides to snack instead of raping him, but does sexually assault him by taking his dick from his pants and leaving it in his hand when he’s unconscious.

Lucita walks into a meeting at a brothel. There are “slaves”. I’m not sure if they’re sex slaves or if they’re actually ghouls, but then again, this is Eternal Hearts so probably both.

She expects Pieterzoon to be there, but he's not. When the others start talking like he's missing, she is completely unconcerned and immediately starts talking as if she knows he's missing.

They move on. Pieterzoon has paid Lucita to assassinate Marcus Vitel. Good fucking luck with that one. Everyone at the meeting is trying to stop her from doing it. Lucita’s like “tough shit he’s already paid me bitch is gonna die”.

Also the Brujah woman present is apparently this scene’s titillation or something because the author loves to remind us about how tight her clothes are and how she's "seductively cuddling" people.

no fucking kidding

I like how the VTM universe goes out of its way to avoid using the terms “son” and “daughter” to avoid the Unfortunate Implications when people inevitably start fucking their Sires

and the author’s like "nah fuck that let’s daddy kink it up.”

Oh and he does it ON TOP OF THE WASHINGTON MONUMENT!! Like gang rape in a churchyard wasn’t edgy enough I guess.

the author can't go a paragraph without reminding us that sex exists and everyone is utterly sex crazed. The bit I blacked out above? That was Lucita daydreaming about hiring a prostitute. Like that’s not erotica, erotica is arousing, this is just voyeurism.

Lucita apparently hasn't yet noticed she's in a porno.

Somebody makes a joke about the Christian protestors gang raping the prostitutes outside. It’s a Ventrue. Of course it is.

Apparently the slave (I guess the word “ghoul” isn’t sexy enough) in the above screenshot is a fucking senator. Pun not intended. She soothes the cranky Brujah by suggesting they get somebody called Torres deported? I have no idea what that has to do with Lucita assassinating Marcus Vitel, but there's almost certainly going to be fucking involved.

(ETA 23/1/21 -- I regret to inform you all that there wasn’t “fucking” involved so much as gang rape. Never mind.)

Lucita and the Brujah guy almost start stabbing each other (so much for that soothing), but somebody has just set the brothel on fire so they have to GTFO.

The mortal senator can't quite fit inside the escape tunnel because her skirt is huge and keeping it on is apparently more important than not dying of smoke inhalation. But it’s okay, she manages it.

The skirt will be important later, unfortunately.

They come to a locked door in the passage. Oh no, whatever will they do?

Will they take a key out of their pocket and unlock it?

Nah, that’s too fucking sensible.

The Brujah that tried to punch Lucita whips out his dick.

Yes.

He actually fucking does that.

Weird flex, but okay.

(ETA 21/1/21 -- I just realised... what if it’s somebody ELSE’S penis he just whipped out? Like the thing was actually just chilling out and he pulls it out the way somebody else pulls out a cucumber. It’s not attached to his body, it’s just THERE?)

Everyone is completely unfazed by this. Both by the fact he whipped his dick out, and the fact he uses it as a fucking key ring.

Like. Is this a habit of his????? APPARENTLY IT IS.

(ETA: Anonymous Discord friend says:

SDFADLFJASDLFJASDF)

They end up in a sewer.

Garinson keeps a key to a sewer on his dick key ring.

(”Lucy didn’t even break the rules as much as I was willing to let her” yeah I just remembered another place more fitting for a sewer key)

THEN!!!

PLOT TWIST!!

The senator suddenly threatens everyone with a lighter!!

After the kindred are done laughing their ass off, she covers herself in whiskey, sets herself on fire and charges them.

I'm sorry but the way it's worded - pin wheeling, cringing - just makes this the funniest shit. It gets even funnier when you remember they’re knee-deep in water. Ever tried to run in water? It’s. not exactly easy. So presumably she’s tripping and stumbling the entire time and somehow still on fire as she does so.

A kindred tries to escape by clawing his way up the wall. He falls. The senator assassinates him by flinging her skirt over his head and sitting on his face. That part of her is also on fire. The skirt and her thighs are on fire.

And I guess they’re obviously not thigh-deep in water any more ‘cause the poor fuck doesn’t survive this.

what a way to fucking go: death by fire pussy.

Everyone panics, except Lucita, who's like "fuck this", cuts off her head, puts out the corpse, then, uh. uses it as a shield against the remaining flames. as you do.

(Between that and the above screenshot, there’s graphic descriptions of what, exactly, the fire is doing to the senator, and how said senator doesn’t give a flying fuck that fire is kinda hurty because she hates vampires that fucking much.)

Lucita meets a Nosferatu who offers to guide her from the sewers. On the next page, we have an illustration of Lucita, in sewage, looking up at the Nosferatu.

You couldn’t possibly make that picture sexy, could you?

Welp the artist went “Challenge accepted!”

So I wanted to show you guys the picture but I didn’t want to get too banned from Tumblr for an Eternal Hearts liveblog, so I went to my friends for help. One of them, @intimidatethevoid​, answered the call to arms:

Well.

This is awkward.

And so she bestowed upon me this glorious, but also cursed, image:

Yeah.

Her shirt’s somehow come off. And she isn’t wearing any knickers. Hence the Filthy Frank sticker.

And that’s gonna wrap up part 1 of my Eternal Hearts liveblog!

For more, like this post in secret shame so that none of your followers have to see it. To cancel me, send angry anon messages and death threats to my inbox.

[prettyboysdontlookatexplosions]

So: what ARE all the various things Quentin Coldwater visibly has not processed or unpacked or come to terms with by the end of season 4? Have you made a list?

sure, let’s give this a whirl, shall we?

1. quentin’s death itself - kind of cheating since technically quentin does not come back to life in the show, but the obvious starting point in any post-s4 fic about him. i feel like dying and coming back to life on its own has gotta be messed up in even the best circumstances, possibly unless you do it like penny where you never really have a moment of feeling like you have died. in the softest interpretation of quentin’s death, it was still a violent sudden untimely death, which feels like it adds to that. which is not getting into —

2. the fact that quentin’s death was self-inflicted - i think there’s definite room for ambiguity in considering, like, how suicidal his suicide was, so to speak, all the way from “he walked into the mirror realm planning or at least hoping to die” to, sure, “he sacrificed himself for the greater good and was sorry to die.” that is a reading that fits with the text. my own headcanon-ish take on it, or the reading that makes most sense to me in terms of quentin’s characterization across the show (which to be clear is NOT what the show wants us to think about it), setting aside whatever angle i might find most dramatically useful or interesting explore in a particular story, is somewhere between these two. i think if everett hadn’t shown up, quentin would have walked out of there alive, and when he decided to cast, some part of him felt a real deep sense of relief. i actually read the moment as emotionally pretty analogous to alice niffin-ing out — when niffin!alice says she did it on purpose, i think that’s true, but does that mean she wanted to, exactly, in all the parts of her that didn’t make it to niffinhood? i don’t know, and i don’t think alice really knows, then or ever, which is how i feel about some future quentin looking back and trying to answer for himself the question he asks penny: yes, no, both, kind of, not really, yes but just for a second, no but not strongly enough... and that kind of uncertainty about your own desires and beliefs and motivations at such a crucial juncture is itself something to process. like i said, that’s my own take on it, and the reality of it (despite the show’s protests to the contrary) is ambiguous; what’s not ambiguous is that, uh, quentin made a choice he knew would kill him, and everything we know about quentin suggests that having this information about himself would really fuck him up (and also that some dumb hot chocolate feelings chat in the underworld would not actually be enough to ease his mind on the issue). which leads me to —

3. quentin’s mental health shit, part the first - so, there’s the fact of quentin’s depression which predates the show by ages and which he has now spent four years basically ignoring while getting traumatized repeatedly, and he needs....... something regarding that. meds/therapy convo is for a lot of people the obvious Something, it’s a good Something. i don’t like to be prescriptivist about what Something is, i think a lot about leonard cohen in his 70s being like “yes it turned out that the thing i needed to finally address my lifelong depression was to go through the process of getting ordained as a buddhist monk.” maybe what quentin needs is to get ordained as a buddhist monk. i could buy that. but Something regarding his like everyday ability to be a person in the world, especially considering that he died at what could charitably be described as a low point re: that, he needs. and, also —

4. quentin’s mental health shit, part the second - he needs to process and deal with his own feelings about his fucked up brain and the things that he’s done as a result of it, because there’s the brain stuff, but then there’s also the shame and self-concept and identity issues that have developed around and with the brain stuff, you know? i mean, there is a reason i have written now two stories spanning well over a hundred thousand words in which therapy is suggested to quentin and his response is “hmm. no thanks,” and it’s because the first time we ever meet him, he is in the process of refusing further treatment against a psychiatric professional’s advice! he goes off his meds like 18 hours later and never once in the show shows any inclination of being like, “hm maybe that was a bad idea,” including when magic gets turned off and he picks up smoking as a fun summer hobby instead. we know from the mind palace that quentin’s deepest fears involve his own brain, and there’s a lot of different ways you can read the fact that the cherry on top of the nightmare sunday is the dream-revelation that his illness led him to attack his dad but IMO one of the more obvious ones is that he already thinks of his illness as something that has hurt his dad. he has some real dark feelings about his own mind.

5. quentin’s dad - quentin barely deals at all with his dad’s death before he himself dies, and like — similarly to his death, losing his father in his mid-twenties is something that would be difficult for a long long time in the least-bad situation. for quentin, i think there’s a ton of unresolved shit in the distance between them as two people who loved each other deeply, and knew the other loved him deeply, but didn’t always know how to communicate; i think there’s a lot of internalized shame around making his father’s life difficult by having the mental health problems he did that he hasn’t unpacked; i think that ahead of him there’s like, a lot of unexpressed anger about what his father couldn’t give him & a lot of guilt about that because his father did do his best and is now dead & a lot of grief about the fact that his father will never be around for quentin to heal his side of their relationship. also there’s the fact that, uh, quentin’s dad died because he chose to turn magic back on, and we know from his conversation with julia that he feels conflicted about having made that choice.

6. quentin’s experiences with the monster - almost everything that happens to quentin on the magicians is some degree of traumatizing, but being constantly tormented by an evil demigod wearing the body of your ex-boyfriend who keeps murdering people partly (after 4x05 at least) because you decided you wanted to take on the absolute inevitability of further carnage for the extremely slim chance of somehow saving your rex-boyfriend - that really takes it to the next level, and we can see that this is true in his affect, in the way quentin in season 4 just totally shuts down, in his reckless behavior and even lower instinct for self-preservation.

7. quentin’s experiences on the quest - i’ve said this before, but if you watch season 3 from the mosaic episode on with a focus on tracking quentin’s inner state, the show becomes a grim story of a guy who came face to face with his depression and never really recovered. that’s... a lot, on its own. it’s more when you consider the fact that as far as he knows, he only survived his initial encounter with the depression monster by, uh, fulfilling its darkest ideas about himself, i.e. passing on his pain to someone else (benedict) who died because quentin wasn’t strong enough to handle his shit on his own. that’s not my read of that episode, but i honestly feel like if quentin ever has 5 seconds to think about it that’s gotta be how he feels about it, right? and you can see briefly in season 3 how his anxiety starts ratcheting up about his sense of responsibility towards others on the quest once penny and benedict are both dead. and there’s also the whole thing about how the quest wants him to be cold, which as i have said 9 million times is a very sad thing for him to believe that he never gets to unlearn! all culminating in his decision to stay at blackspire, which —

8. quentin’s hero thing - of all the really baffling choices the show makes, one that i keep coming back to is how they told quite beautifully the story of quentin letting go of his desire to be a hero, culminating in handing alice the leo blade (or... whatever i’m not gonna fact check that. you know what the fuck i mean), and then they uhhhh. i don’t even know what to call it. walked it back? decided he hadn’t actually learned that in a generally applicable way? the season 2 finale is interesting because he does A Hero Thing (stabs a god with a sword), but it happens very unglamorously and feels very much like a decision born out of necessity, but then it leads to magic ending, so... i don’t know what to do with that. but his decision to stay at blackspire is... clearly quentin wanting to be a hero! like, he’s managed to step away from the idea of heroic glory, but veered over instead to heroic martyrdom, which is not really... better. and which eliot saves him from (See Below), only for him to... double down on it a season later by sacrificing his life for real. all of which is A Lot, not even getting into the fact that, like, at some point he’s gotta come up with some justification for being alive other than this, and the show strongly suggests he... hasn’t, yet.

9. yeah, like, eliot? - HOO boy. listen. the act of turning quentin down in and of itself is not morally wrong. if eliot sincerely hadn’t wanted a relationship with quentin after the mosaic, that would be his right, and his rejection doesn’t become a crime just because we know that it actually came from his own issues. i also honestly think eliot thought in the moment that he was shutting this down for the good of both of them and as kindly as he could. he was very wrong about this, but that’s my take. HOWEVER. there are a lot of reasons you can read that conversation in 4x05 as being unintentionally crafted to be particularly hurtful to quentin specifically, the biggest and most obvious one being, uh, “fifty years that were real for you were not real for me” (hurtful in any case but particularly for someone like quentin who has such a sense that one of his problems is he Cares Too Much), and my personal favorite being that the logical implication of “that’s not you,” for quentin, is “the version of yourself that learned to be content with your life as it happened to unfold is not real.” excruciating to hear those things, while also trying to figure out how to emotionally process the memories of a dead wife you never married and a son that was never born! extra excruciating to then have the person who told you “you didn’t matter enough to me to take a chance on” shoot a god because apparently you do matter enough for him to override your life choices, and then get possessed. one of my favorite moments in 4x05 is when quentin tells alice “i loved you, and you couldn’t trust that,” because it’s clearly in there to draw a parallel to the throne room scene for Writing Points, but it’s so wildly inapplicable to any of their 900 break-ups (right before blackspire SHE was the one saying “i know i don’t always seem like it but you’re the one i love”!), that the only plausible in-universe reading of it is that quentin has been stewing miserably on the eliot thing this entire time, only now he can’t even be properly mad at eliot because eliot is possessed by a demigod, so he’s just projecting onto the nearest available screen. i’m obsessed with that. it’s horrible and very sexy and Needs To Be Unpacked

10. see, like all the way down here at the bottom we get to quentin’s mom - idk, his mom is a very critical person (i don’t love using the word “critical” because it often gets used misogynistically but it is the only personality trait we really have for her) who never seems to contact or wonder about her adult son with a longterm history of mental illness, who certainly doesn’t seem to have the same skepticism his father has about the brakebills cover story that he’s studying finance, and who unlike his father is not mentioned when quentin recounts his first hospitalization. like, that can’t be great for him, right? that can’t have nothing to do with him being the way he is. for most people that would rank as a pretty major thing to process. but compared to everything else on the list? idk, man!

that’s... i mean this is not so much my thinking for fic-related reasons, this is just me lying down and trying to get out all my screaming about quentin coldwater, which i honestly feel like is still missing some things. like i kinda think he has not gotten over being an unpopular nerd for what is chronologically still most of his life??? i feel like he has some weird stuff around sex which explains why his reaction to poppy macking on him is basically “i guess this is happening now” which is not, like, an ideal relationship or lack thereof to have with your own body? he doesn’t have a single close friend who does not play a major role in his psychosexual development, and he has no male friends he’s never slept with. i couldn’t even go down the road of residual guilt over being the guy who got magic turned off and therefore in his brain probably responsible for everything that happened after that. the dude’s a mess!!!!!!!!!! i love him more than anything on this stupid earth but his mind is a fucking horrorshow!!!!!!!!!!!!

[undertalethingems]

Bark at the Moon, Chapter 4: Antagonized

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Rating, Setting: Gen, Pre-canon

Chapter Warnings: None?

Chapter Summary: Flowey’s run out of things to do. At least, he thinks he has.

Flowey flinched at heavy crashing further up the channel; it sounded like something big had fallen in the trash heaps. Big things didn’t come through often, so as bored as he was he figured he may as well check it out. It'd be wild if it were a human or something besides garbage, but he wasn't going to get his hopes up. He ducked into the murky water and burrowed through the mud below to pop up between the piles of garbage, the best vantage point for spotting anything new. Didn’t look like much… wait, that one looked lopsided. He popped up closer to it, peered around the refuse, then checked the other side and gasped.

A skeleton lay half-buried in the pile.

It wasn’t just any old skeleton—or any new skeleton, for that matter. Inching around, Flowey could make out the shape of the skull and knew he’d seen it before. Only, it hadn’t been attached to a body, or appeared outside of battle. All of this was new.

“Um, howdy! You alright there, friend?” he called, wondering what kind of response he might get. As it turned out, he got none. The creature just laid there, eye sockets closed. Flowey frowned, and extended a vine to poke its scapula. “Hello? What are you, dead?”

Fangs sheared through his vine in a blur, and he grunted at the pain. The creature’s jaws snapped open and Flowey braced himself for the next strike, but his nerves faded to curiosity as the beast seemed frozen, jaws still open and eyes wide but dark. Slowly, it reached up with heavy claws to tug at its own teeth, then shut its mouth and curled a hand tight around its snout as if to hold its jaws shut. A hushed, weary whine escaped from it, and Flowey thought the tone was familiar.

“Uh, hey there!” he tried again, and the creature slowly turned to face him. “Sorry to wake you, but you didn’t look so good. Are you okay?”

The creature seemed to think for a bit, and he wondered if it understood him until it bunched its shoulders up into a shrug. Of course it would, if it was one of his.

“Fair enough. I probably wouldn’t be doing too good if I’d just fallen into a pile of garbage too,” Flowey joked. “Wait here, I’ll get'cha something to eat.”

It wasn’t far to the cooler of astronaut food someone had left down here ages ago, and he picked a couple packets up before heading back to his interesting new pal. He’d never thought he’d be making friends with one of these, but maybe it’d tell him how to beat that smiley trashbag. He pushed his way back up through the mud, and presented the snacks to the creature.

“Okay! Here you go, just take the wrapper off and—yeah, pretty good right? If you’re into weird, dried-out food, anyway. How ya feelin’ now, buddy?”

The creature made a humming sound. It was weird how much it sounded like him, and the glowing cyan irises that now filled its sockets were also familiar, but Flowey tried to ignore that. Probably just side effects of who it belonged to.

“So what are you doing all the way out here? I bet Sans is looking for you, he doesn’t let you guys out like, ever. Say! My name’s Flowey by the way, Flowey the flower. What’s yours? Do you even have one?”

The creature narrowed its eyes, then extended its left paw. Flowey gave it his vine, his own eyes narrowed as they shook, and the thing he knew as a gaster blaster cleared its nonexistent throat.

“heya. i’m sans.”

Flowey felt his brain break. “…What.”

“you seem surprised. have we met before?” the creature—Sans—observed, slowly sitting back on his haunches.

“Gh—no,” Flowey replied shortly, trying to recover his composure. “Not properly! I-I mean, I’ve heard of you, so, I know of you.”

“of course you have, everyone knows me,” Sans agreed. He leaned closer, grin seeming to turn sharp despite the fact it was already made of jagged fangs. “now, the real question is… who did you think i was before i introduced myself?”

Flowey grimaced--he’d slipped up.

“listen pal... i don't wanna jump to any conclusions, but it seemed like you recognized me. and if that's true… i think we’ve met before, and it was NOT under good circumstances.”

He’d really slipped up. Sans was standing now, looming over him ominously. No, no—he wasn’t ready to end this run yet, not when it had finally gotten so interesting! Sans was too perceptive for his own good.

Sans grunted as vines wrapped around his limbs, lashing him to the heap of garbage before he could skip away. More vines whipped out and wound around his jaws—Flowey was taking no chances, not when he had something so new to toy with. Sans was supposed to be a round, talkative, terrifying jokester, not a weird animal. But here he was, covered in heavy spines and on all fours with a long tail. Flowey wasn’t sure what he’d do with him, but he could figure that out later. Right now, he wanted to take his prize somewhere no one would find it.

Sans gave a bit of token resistance, but eventually went limp and let Flowey drag him along through shadowy caverns. There was much of Waterfall still uninhabited—places where it was too dark, too damp, too cramped—corners where perhaps no one had set foot for centuries. Flowey worked his way along until he found a small cavern that seemed perfect—he couldn’t even hear the distant dull roar of rushing water, and the only light came from a few glimmering crystals embedded in the stony walls.

“Okay smiley trashbag, wakey wakey!” Flowey sang harshly as he deposited his captive. “We’re alone. Tell me what the hell you are.”

Sans lifted an eyelid to gaze at him. “why?”

“I’m the one asking questions here! Besides… I’ll kill you if you don’t! Hee hee!”

“hm. sure you will.”

"Yeah! It won't be hard!”

“nope.”

“So, you don’t care if you die… but maybe… your brother!” Flowey threatened with a wicked grin, only to be met with the same nonchalance.

“ok.”

Flowey glared at him. “What, you really don’t care about what happens to your beloved, precious Papyrus?”

Sans shrugged. “eh. if you’re what i think you are… then it doesn’t really matter what you do, does it?”

Flowey curled his lip. “I’ll make you watch as I dust him bone by bone! You’ll be haunted by his screams forever!”

“that’s… pretty messed up, my dude. you need to talk?”

“Don’t turn this around on me!” Flowey shrieked. “I’ll destroy EVERYONE and make you watch!”

“hm… well, chances are you’ve already done that at least once. after all, you know what i look like,” Sans replied. “but it doesn’t matter what either of us do. i accepted that a long time ago.”

“And that’s why you’re a lazy slob who never does anything,” Flowey stated with contempt.

Sans shrugged. “yup.”

“Ugh, whatever. It's way more interesting to keep you alive now anyway,” Flowey grumbled. “You’re even more of a freak than before. I wonder… does your brother know you’re like this? I wonder what he’d think if he saw you.”

“wouldn’t care.”

“…Wait, are you saying you wouldn’t care, or that he wouldn’t care?” Flowey pressed, and Sans shrugged yet again. He was so frustrating sometimes, and Flowey scowled. “Ugh. I know what I’ll do. As much as I’d love to finally kill you, I think I’ll keep you alive… as my pet. You’ve humiliated me too many times, and now I’m going to repay the favor!”

Flowey laughed until he noticed Sans was falling asleep.

“Hey! Wake up! You really don’t care what I’m going to do to you?!” He shook the vines restraining his prize, jostling him awake.

“hmm? eh… not really. can’t be worse than what i’ve already been through, so it doesn’t really matter,” Sans murmured in reply, snuggling against the rough stone floor despite how he was bound.

“W-well…” Flowey stumbled, “maybe… you don’t care now! But let’s see how you feel in a month! Maybe even longer! Hee hee hee!”

Sans shrugged again. “in that case, i’m going to sleep. wake me in a month, ok pal?”

Flowey growled and tightened his vines until Sans was pressed to the floor, and leaned in to leer at him. “You listen here, trashbag. By the time I’m done with you, you’ll be—”

Bones stabbed up from the floor inches from his face, and he leapt back with a yelp.

“i’ll be what, kid? broken? dusted? flower’s best friend?” Sans said, a deadly chill in his voice as he fixed Flowey with one piercing eye. “fine. you have fun trying. but don't think this is gonna be easy. i'm not some helpless puppy you picked up off the street. i'm not like ANYTHING you've seen before."

Flowey felt a shiver run through him as he stared into Sans’ dark sockets, but he pulled a smirk. “Hah! What do you think I am, an idiot? 'Cause I'm not.”

Sans only chuckled dryly. “you keep telling yourself that. i’m going to sleep.”

Flowey growled, but held back. He needed to strategize. Sans wasn’t someone he could just threaten into submission, and knowing his stats, he couldn’t torture him either if he wanted him alive. He’d have to come up with some other way to get to Sans--but for now it might be fun just watching what his absence would do to his friends. Another smirk curled at the corners of his mouth, and he ducked below-ground to head for Snowdin, making sure to keep his prize tied up tight. He knew what the world looked like with everyone but Sans gone--it was time to see the opposite.

[saokpe]

HDLW SIbling Week 2020 Day 1: Adventure

It’s time to celebrate the most chaotic quartet of siblings know to duck kind with little DnD inspired fic! 

@hdlwsiblingweek2020

Ducks and Dragons

“Are we ready to start our adrenaline pumping adventure!” An ecstatic Huey proclaims over the table. His siblings occupying the remaining seats, hovering their confused gazes over a collection of figures, plastic dice, and hardcover books.

“So, uhm-” Louie begins, still analyzing the display of trinkets ahead of him, “-this is a game about pretending to go on adventures, a thing we do almost every day?” The duck’s cynical suspicion directs itself towards the cap-wearing triplet, the 10-inch cardboard wall between them doing little to block it. 

“It’s not only about going on an adventure, dear Llewellyn-” Huey agonizingly teases, “It’s about making a story!”

“Wait, wait, wait, do these colorful rocks have NUMBERS on them!” Dewey intersects, ruthlessly inspecting one of the oddly shaped dice, “I thought you said this was going to be fun! This looks like MATH!” The brother’s biting fury echoes.

“Oh c’mon guys.” Webby attempts to calm the derailing group, “I’m sure this’ll be fun. So I get that these plastic toys are to throw at other players, but what about this sheet of paper?” The girl raises the assigned and already filled character sheet, her innocently oblivious eyes curling curiously.

“No-” Huey stops himself from spewing the erratic words that were sure to fly in his frustration, “Why don’t we just start playing and see what happens from there, ok?”

“Alright.”

“Okey-dokey.”

“Better than whatever Scrooge had planned for the evening.”

“Perfect,” Huey takes a deep breath, scanning over his story notes quickly before re-addressing the party. “The night sets across the peaceful landscape, soon to rise again. Beneath the twilight, a tavern proved lively and bustling. A truth one realizes once they enter through its welcoming walls looking for a group which can help in a mission placed upon them by those that be, something that your character, Webby, is experiencing right now.”

“Oh cool!” Webby looks over to the table, “Is this when we start throwing stuff?”

“No; Dewey,” Dewey dismisses the perplexing dice he fiddled with throughout his brother’s monologue, gifting his attention to Huey now that he called his name, “-you said you were a Bard, right?”

“Yes!” He answers confidently, allowing himself to think the question through after the fact. He leans closer to the game master, “That’s the one that sings, right?”

“Yes.”

“Yes! I am a Bard!” Dewey’s previous enthusiasm manifests.

“Alright then. Webby, your character, as they dash inside the busy establishment, the sound of blasting music welcomes you. You see, standing above the sea of guests, an extravagantly dressed…” Huey signals towards the now enthralled Dewey, his awestruck gaze not shifting at the motion. Seeing no difference, he waves again.

“What is this, what are you doing?” Dewey, still maintaining his smile, asks impatiently.

“Describe your character.” Huey returns, whispering between his teeth.

“OH!” The Bard straightens up, “I’m wearing a loose contortment of cut up robes of various different colors,  and, and, he has this really cool guitar thing that kinda looks like an egg, which was weird and cool and I imagine it sounds like an electric guitar and he is rocking it, I mean totally destroying the stage. And-”

“Yeah, you get the picture,” Huey interrupts, directing himself at one awfully silent player. “How about you, Louie, what class are you?”

“Huh?” The addressed duck doesn’t move from his slouched seat, his hand fidgeting restlessly with the phone he placed his full attention on. “I don’t know, Geography.”

“I mean your Ducks and Dragons class.” Huey’s monotone corrects, sizzling annoyance in every word.

“Oh,” The brother looks over to his increasingly complex character sheet, darting across it in search of this so-called class. “Ah! Here it is.” His eyes narrow as his hands pull the piece of paper closer to his eyes, “Rogooe? Roge? Rojue?” 

“A rogue, got it.” The dismissive voice of Huey clears, a lack of further enthusiasm in his tone. “Webby, as you continue to travel through the various tables and chairs, you notice the figure you were told spent his nights in the dusted corners of the tavern you stood in. Counting the shining amulets of small gold pieces, Louie would you please describe your character.”

“Right, right, uhm, Class: Rogwe, Race: Elf… Duck? Background: Charlatan, Experience Points: 0, and Player Name: Louie Duck!” Louie triumphantly tosses the paper back to his corner of the table, falling back to his seat, staring over to his brother’s dumbfounded face with a smug and arrogant snicker.

A deep sigh sounds through the table before Huey continues, “So you see this Elf Duck, seemingly unaware of your permeating gaze, what do you do?”

“I walk towards him.” 

“Ok, Louie, just as you are about to account for the last of your previous odd job’s payment, this huge looming figure shadows over you. Webby if you could please describe your character.”

“Of course!” Webby raises from her seat, tilting her shoulder as she prepares her speech, directing her body to the somewhat disinterested Louie, catching his attention. “Standing before you, enveloping you, trapping you in their intimidating silhouette is the plated figure of a Half-Orc. Shattered armoring stabbed and overgrown over their bulging muscles, their tusks matching the dark greens of their slashed and scarred skin. My expression matching those with little value for life, I sit at the opposite side of your empty table.”

“Do you do anything about it.”

“No…” Louie responds in a petrified, wide eyed, and high pitched squeal. His now straightened and attentive body shaking as it prepares for conversation. 

Clearing her throat, Webby prepares her following sentence, which emergers in a voice that isn’t her own. Deep and gravely, a tone probably acquired from various almost-fatal strikes to the jugular, the frightening figure tells Louie’s character. “Are you Laten?”

“We’re doing scary voices now?” Louie, his voice quivering over the overpowering presence of this alter-ego his sister had made for herself, directs to the game master. 

Huey shrugs in response. 

“You mean AWESOME voice! Go on, keep going!” Dewey waves, resting his chins over his palm as he anticipates the following interaction.

“Alright then,” The cowardly duck relaxes himself for a second, allowing the immediate paranoia to wash over before responding, “Depends on who’s asking?”

“Name’s Worerdurk, I have a job for you.”

“Hey Huey, it says here that I’m a Thief Rojue, does Webby’s character have, like, a money pouch or something,” Louie breaks character.

“OOOOOOOH-” Dewey begins, “You’re gonna steal from the big giant Half-Orc person!?” 

“Just gonna check.” A mischievous grin can’t help but manifest itself over the lying schemer’s face.

“Roll a perception check then.” Huey instructs.

“Uhm,” The previously smiling duck looks down to his basically encoded paper, “What would that be?” 

“Oh, over here.“ Webby leans from her side of the table, knocking over many of the placed figurines, pointing to the skill section of the character sheet. 

“No! Don’t help him Webby, he’s gonna steal all your gold!” Dewey attempts to prevent foreseen disaster. 

“It’s alright, it’s just a game.” The victimized party assures.

The still singing Bard’s player thinks the question over, eventually whispering to himself, “No… it’s a story…”

“Ok, what do I need to roll?” Louie, still unsure in his statements, asks.

“The d20.” Huey casually instructs.

“And that would be the…?”

“The bigger round one.”

“Got it! Alright…” Llewelyn’s hand grasps onto the small plastic dice, his forearms vibrating, bouncing the tool between their fingers before it’s released, clashing across the table. “I got an 18 plus something.”

“Yeah, that’s definitely enough. You look across Worerdurk’s outfit and it seems to you that they don’t have any money on them.”

“What?” Louie’s surprise is directed back to the smiling Webby, “You expect me to do a job with you for no money then?”

“Oh, I promise you a hefty amount of gold will fill your pockets. But I think we might need a third party.” The grizzled voice suggests.

“Oh, do I hear that! Can I go over there?!” Dewey, quickly excited, bounces and pleads to his elder brother.

“Ehhh, it’s a bit Meta-gamey, but sure, why not. Your performance has ended and you rush to the corner of the tavern.”

“I don’t know what that means, but HELL YEAH!”

“So as you guys are discussing this, emerging from the stage at the opposite side of the building is an attention grabbing Duckling.”

“A Duckling? Like a child?” Webby attest. 

“Yes!” Dewey answers.

“No.” Huey corrects.

“No!” Dewey repeats.

“A Duckling is like a different race, like Elf Ducks and Half-Orcs, their traditionally not very tall, this fellow that ran over isn't much different.”

“HEY! HI! I’m Deeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeewerius, Dewerius the Amazing and Awesome, the coolest of my triplets and a very talented performer, it’s a pleasure.”

The table of players meet each other's gaze before resting them over the unrefined Dewey. Huey questions, “Is, uhm, Dewerius-”

“Dewerius the Amazing and Awesome."

“Dewerius the Amazing and Awesome, is he supposed to, y’know, represent a specific someone or is inspired by maybe his player or?”

“Hmm, let me think- nope, not at all, now,” He looks back to Louie and Webby, elegantly singing, partly out of note, “Are we going on an adventure or not?”

“Yes,” Louie naturally falls into character, the fluidity forcing a smile on Huey’s beak. “What exactly are we doing, Worerdurk?”

“The biggest hoarder of gold in all the land has a rather large bounty on their head, I was looking for some help to spend all of it once we kill em?”

“Ooooooh, and who is this shrewd gazillionaire? Don’t say Scrooge, this is gonna get really awkward if you say it's Scrooge.” Dewey’s charisma saps to a deadpan monotone.

“Oh don’t worry my tiny friend,” Webby’s harsh imitation of gruffness assures, “Think more a fire breathing dragon.”

“Well that’s definitely interesting,” Laten speaks out, “Only legend speaks of the wealth they carry, you can count me in.”

“And count me three!” Dewey, I mean Dewerius (the Amazing and Awesome) adds. 

“Perfect. Uhm… So what do we do now?” Webby returns to her usual voice, honest bewilderment in the question. She shares an eye with the rest of her party only to be met with the same insecurity.

“Well you can do anything you want!” Huey, still recovering from the serotonin of his family's enjoyment of the hobby, optimistically yells out.

“Anything?” Dewey asks again.

“Yes! Anything! That’s the beauty of D&D, the world is your oyster, it's a game where you can do and create anything that comes to your imaginations!” 

The playing siblings share a mischievous smile as the realization of what the excited declaration implied falls over the game master. As an almost telepathic link befell Webby, Dewey, and Louie; Huey screams out:

“Wait! No-”

The party then proceeded to spend the next four hours doing literally anything but killing a dragon. An unexpected turn for the story that Huey did not plan for. Poor kid.

Read all of my HDLW Sibling Week fics here

[razorblade180]

Looking Back

[Lasting Embers au spoilers]

A constant in life is that life is constantly changing; a concept known to any huntsman that were worth their salt on the battlefield. As well as anybody who chose a dangerous life style. For Adam, it was the second constant in his life. The first was the stary void that dawned over him with its trillions of stars. It might be the only real perk of night watch. It was his turn to keep an eye out for any enemy that could’ve been following him and the rag tag fever dream of a team he found himself with. When Jacquelyn told him life is a story that goes the way each person decides, he never imagine somehow he had written a story that would lead him to helping members of team RWBY, their families, and his as well. Crazy for sure but hey, crazier had happened. This didn’t even make the list.

Yang approached him from behind with two mugs in her hand. The both of them were ordered to watch the forest clearing from the tree line. Ruby was dead set on making sure the two of them were in sync enough to fight together if things got hairy. Yang could think of a million other ways to spend the night but she wasn’t about to complain and handed him the coffee.

Yang:One coffee, black. If you’re going for something gross to keep you awake then I understand.

Adam:I told you black so you couldn’t slip anything in it.

Yang:....

Adam:Joking, I wasn’t serious. Mostly.

Yang:Your humor is more bitter than your drink. *sips* you should try to be more grounded.

Adam:That was terrible. We can’t both be bad at this or I might die from boredom alone.

Yang:Stabs to the chest didn’t end you. I doubt puns will. I’d be upset; could’ve gotten rid of you a long time ago if they did.

Adam:What can I say? I’m one lucky bastard.

Yang:I’ll say....

The blonde bruiser sat down with her head supported by her hands. Being here was awkward, too awkward. Neither of them really continued speaking. One watched the fields whil the other star gazed. Adam would sometime steal glances at Yang’s arm before going back to mapping out the sky. Yang let out a long and over the top sigh. At this point, talking to Adam couldn’t be as unbearable as saying nothing.

Yang:We should play a game.

Adam:What?

Yang:You heard me. It’ll pass the time. Besides, I’m positive Ruby will keep sticking us as partners if we don’t even pretend to get along.

Adam:Who’s pretending? I made my peace with my thoughts on you a long time ago. If I hadn’t then I wouldn’t have entertained the thought of looking over your daughter for over a decade.

Yang:Hmm is that right? Well, can’t say I’m not entirely over that hump.

Adam:This makes the fourth of fifth time you’ve told me that. You need new material. Freeing Jackie, me, when I showed up at your home, the train ride; I get it. Messaged received.

Yang:Tsk, no need to sound smug about it.

Adam:I’m not. I just don’t see a reason for you to state the obvious. You don’t forgive someone who shouldn’t be forgiven. What, are you upset because people like your sister don’t share the sentiment?

Yang:Why bring Ruby up and not Blake?

Adam:Like I said, stating the obvious. How are you two though? You’ve had plenty of time to properly bury that hatchet.

Yang:We’re just fine. Even before this whole cult shit.

Adam:Good. It’s already insane you two “killed” me and didn’t get together. I’d feel some type of way if you weren’t even friends. Talk about a let down.

Yang:You’re the reason- ugh, why the hell am I even trying to hold a proper conversation with you? I might as well pull my hair out...

Adam:....The hate game.

Yang:What?

Adam:It’s the game I wanna play. You and another person take turns talking about something you hate about the other.

Yang:That....sounds so stupid.

Adam:That’s the spirit, I’ll go first. You’re really loud all the time. Ever heard of a inside voice?

Yang:That’s rich coming from the screaming goat. All you ever did was scream Blake’s name.

Adam:All you ever did was scream in general. I hate how you always seem to butt into everything. It’s one thing to help a friend but you like act like you have a right to have an opinion on people you know by association.

Yang:I don’t need to know much about a terrorist to know you’re terrible.

Adam:I hate how you haven’t realized this is the first time you’re judging me by the crimes I committed for the first time, instead of claiming I was nothing but fake towards Blake and Ilia.

Yang:....

Adam:Everything is personal with you.

Yang:Says the hypocrite.

Adam:I won’t deny that. You feel better or you got more on your chest?

Yang:We’d be here for years if I said it all.

Adam:Then say the important ones I know you wanna say. “I hate that you’re still alive.” Or is it “I can’t stand your dismissive attitude?” The fact anybody like me was given a second-

Yang:I hate that you’ve spent more time with Yujin than me...

Adam:Oh....hmm. *lays back*

Yang:Got nothing smart to say, jackass?

Adam:Hey if you raised my kid with me barely around, I’d hate you too. Can’t fault you for that one.

Yang:It’s a twisted joke really. So many people to look over her from afar and it’s you. What was Sun thinking?

Adam:We were under staffed and things got ugly really fast. Decisions had to happen quickly. Plus the threat was clearly too unknown and dangerous to half ass anything. They killed two of you after all.

Yang:It would be wise to keep that incident out of your mouth. Ruby might tolerate you but that’ll change before I can even lift a finger.

Adam:Now you’re warning me? I thought your sister stomping me out would make your day.

Yang:Dude...shut up.

Adam:....What happened to your uncle and friend was terrible, sorry.

Yang:Ugh, even you saying that feels so wrong.

Adam: Please, thank you, and I’m sorry aren’t that hard. It’s not even new. The white fang wasn’t all snarls and chanting like you think. For awhile I pretty calm there.

Yang:The key word being “awhile.” You murdered your own.

Adam:Yep.

Yang*grits teeth* That’s all you say? People keep saying you’re different left and right and yet you don’t seem even a little regretfull. You’re sipping coffee and staring at the stars as if you hadn’t spent most of your life ruining other’s! What part of that sounds like a change of heart!?

Adam didn’t break his attention away from those stars. If he did, Adam would’ve no doubt seen how irritated Yang was. Her eyes burned red as she waited for an answer. Yang’s coffee was even boiling.

Yang:Well?

Adam:Regretting doesn’t bring them back, or the most heartfelt apologies. It just stirs anger. You wouldn’t feel better about your arm if I apologize.

Yang:So you choose to not even try.

Adam:No, I’ll just convince Jacquelyn to get the relic of creation whenever we eventually go to Atlas.

A perfectly good cup of coffee falls out of Yang’s hand. Did she hear that right? Adam just said he planned on creating an arm with a relic, for her!

Adam:What? It made me an eye. Making an arm is far less complicated than that. I’d say that would be better than any words I could say that you wouldn’t believe anyways.

Yang:....It’s your turn again.

Adam:Ah, let’s see. Well, if I were to be honest I guess...it really bothers me how similar you are to your daughter.

Yang:The hell does-

Adam:Let me finish before you break my ribs. That kid of yours pretty feisty and passionate about so many things. She bugged me to help train her until I finally said yes. Yujin gets frustrated easily and gets really sensitive about certain maternal subjects; yet it isn’t like she doesn’t want to avoid those conversations altogether. Seriously, your daughter is a little bit of a mess, but a fun mess. That bothers me because for a split second I can’t help but wonder that maybe if you and encountered each other on the same side in the beginning...maybe we’d be decent acquaintances or something.

Yang:D-Did you just say what I think you just said.

Adam:Who knows? I suck with words. I’m gonna rest for a little bit.

He turned his back to her to avoid eye contact. Yang couldn’t believe what she was witnessing. Was he embarrassed? Did he actually try some roundabout way of saying she was a good person? If only Blake was here for that. She would’ve flipped. Yang looked up the sky then back at the field; still nothing. When her guys went back to the stars it was curiosity.

Yang:Hey, were you staring a constellation in particular or something?

Adam:You can see Capricornus well from here. I joke all the time with Jael about that one since she’s into a shark faunus. Looking at it made me think about her is all.

Yang:Jael is your second daughter right?! I can’t believe I didn’t know that. I remember the first one for sure.

Adam:You were a little preoccupied to notice anything regarding Jael. Her and Yujin share a birthday.

Yang:No foolin!? Well how about that.

Adam:Yeah, life sure does like it’s jokes. I get a lot of flack if I’m not around for one’s birthday. Jael will get pouty and your daughter gets fussy. “You promised!” I’ve heard that too much.

Yang:Hehe, Jin might get that from me. It’s natural for your kid though. I know I wanted my dad around for mine. Even when I grew up and acted like I was too grown to really care, I wanted his birthday breakfast. Your kid looked like a real beauty.

Adam:Thanks, definitely got that from her mother.

Yang:Haha, don’t feel bad. Seeing Yujin with short hair made me think Jaune had another younger sister I just never met. His genes are way too strong.

Adam:Trust me, I’ve seen her with long hair and in the middle of a fight. I might’ve called her your name a few times.

Yang:Oof, that must’ve pissed her off.

Adam:No....she was actually surprised more than anything. Yujin never hated you Yang. Despite how she acted whenever your name was mentioned. I think she just wasn’t sure how to feel about you besides feeling lonely. I’m not any better with Jael. You wanna talk regrets, I don’t think I spent enough time with her the way I should’ve. Hopefully I’m wrong.

Yang:It’s very telling that you don’t regret your past but you regret something like that.

Adam:My past is terrible and dark, but it led me to my wife and kids. It feels wrong to regret it, so I’ll just accept it and carry on. Otherwise I don’t think I’ll ever have time to live in the present.

Yang:Geez, ever the drama queen. Though I can see a little bit of that view point. Still a spit in the face to people and yourself if you asked me.

Adam:The world thinks I’m dead and has made their mind up about me a long time ago. I go around taking down other terrorists and orginizations to keep them safe as a way to give back. I don’t owe the world anymore than that. I’m simply a remnant among Remnant. My regret is my kids have me as a dad. A kid should be able to talk about their parents and be proud.

Yang:Can’t argue with that. At least you stayed and are apart of their life. I can barely say that.

Adam:Helping save Remnant from another shadow war is a pretty strong excuse. Especially when the group has actually killed your family members. You’re just protecting them. Jaune and Yujin understand that.

Yang:....I hate that you’re not as terrible anymore. Reasonable you is too...

Adam:Reasonable?

Yang:I really hope I don’t have with this for another ten years.

Adam:I give it two, tops. You have a maiden with you this time and me. I’ll just hit you so you can get stronger and wreck shop.

Yang:Hit me and I hit you.

Adam:I’ll block, now we’re both wrecking shop.

Yang:Jacquelyn must have the patience of a saint to deal with you.

Adam:Yep, she’s pretty great. Saved my life, saved my soul. Couldn’t ask for more. You two would probably get along.

Yang:Nah, we worked together once. Wasn’t the best experience.

Adam:I was kidnapped and you were both pregnant. I’m not the smartest person but I’m positive that was a recipe for disaster. She thinks you’re cool, really respect your virtues. Sometimes it feels like she’s quoting you unfortunately.

Yang:Oh, glad I left a good impression. Maybe I can have her whisper regrets into your ear. Seriously, I regret things like lying to Ruby about tiny things yet you don’t really regret anything?

Adam:My regrets take place before the white fang. They remain in the work camp I escaped from. It’s funny, Yujin reminds me of my little sister, Eve.

Yang:Are you telling me that you, Adam, had a sister named Eve?

Adam:When you live in a place devoid of hope or faith, you cling to it in any way can. So my mother named us to help maintain hers. Probably had something to do with the loss of our father. Can’t say, never met him.

Yang:What was your mother’s name?

Adam:Don’t know. I called her mom and the gaurds called her by a serial number. Even that’s a little hazy. Anyways, sis got caught in an mining incident; mother was gunned down because I furious at a gaurd that stopped me from saving Eve.

Yang:Wow that’s umm, heavy stuff. Is that how you...*point to face*

Adam:Yeah, called it my punishment for disobeying. As far as regrets go, it would’ve been nice to be a son and brother; one that got to actually have proper meals.

Yang looked at Adam stare deeply into the void of space. It was strange. Yang has never seen Adam look mournful before. His eyes seemed to get more lost in thought by the second. A part of her felt....sorry for him.

Yang:I’m sure they’ve watched over you since day one. Who knows? Maybe they’re the real reason you’ve survived so long? If I know a thing or two about little sisters and mothers, they’ll never let you rest until you clean up your act, hehehe. Ruby can vouch for that. I bet both of them would be proud of your end result.

Adam:That’s funny. It kinda sounds like you just tried showing me compassion.

Yang:Pfft, I think you may have brain damage you didn’t know about.

Adam:Oh it’s possible. Neo and Mercury have put me through some shit.

Both of them laughed and continued to chat aimlessly, unaware that Ruby and Raven were watching from their own vantage point.

Raven:Well look at that? Maybe the gods haven’t abandoned us if people like those two can chat like that.

Ruby:Looks like our colorful team has gotten a little more stable. Now if only Weiss can get used to Nora’s snoring.

Raven:That’s seriously on your to-do list?

Ruby:I refuse to lead my team poorly this time around. I’ll do whatever I can whenever I can.

Raven:Qrow and Oscar would be proud to see you back on your feet, the right way this time.

Ruby:Can’t mourn forever. This is the mission to end all missions. I’m going full throttle...

[marvinswriting]

rouge

hurt/comfort(/hurt?) fic four :0 GENERALIZED TW: death (fear of it, mentioned, and/or, actual death); cursing; blood (mention, description, thought) mg borrower (roommates) au

Rouge borrowers are a thing. When I described them to Damian, he pointed out that they're the equivalent of a homeless person.

I told him all borrowers are technically homeless.

You won't catch me paying taxes.

Rouge borrowers are more like travelers. Never stay in one place too long, never settle down. They're left to their own devices at a younger age too. They have a different culture and borrowing technique than a stationary borrower. They're more reckless, more violent.

They travel alone most of the time. Each man for himself.

My father would tell stories of rouge borrowers that kill off humans if they get caught. 

They travel to houses but don't stay for long. 

There's a good chance a borrower has shared their house with a rouge without even knowing. 

Houses are big.

But- I never thought I'd face one.

"What are you doing here." He called out. He was holding a meticulously sharpened rock as a knife.

I was on the kitchen counter just trying to grab food. Kevin was across the kitchen getting water, frozen in place as he watched the rouge approach me. Gretchen had slipped away before he saw her. I fucking hope she had enough common sense to get Damian. 

I put my hands up in defense. 

"I live here."

He raises his weapon. "You two are stationary borrowers?"

"Yes." I say.

"Take me to your hideout. I want your supplies."

"What?! No!" I step back, but the rouge just steps closer again.

"Hey, dude-" Kevin steps over. "What's your name. Maybe we can work this out- without the kife?"

"Shane." The borrower says, but he doesn't lower his weapon.

"Hey, Shane. I'm Janis, this is my roommate Kevin. I agree I think we can talk civilly without-" I gasp, taking a step backward as Shane gabs his knife at me.

Kevin's arm wraps around my shoulders pulling me close to him.

"Hey! No stabbing the girl!" He says, pushing me a little behind him.

Normally I would object to needing to be protected, but Shane looks strong as fuck for a rouge borrower and has shown he has no hesitation to fucking stab us.

"There's another one of you." Shane deadpans. "Where did she go."

"I don't know," Kevin says calmly.

"Where did she go?!" Kevin steps back so he's next to me. Shane is swinging around his sharp rock-knife-weapon-murder-dagger, like a mad man. 

"We don't know!" I say. "Honest truth!"

She could be hiding in her room like a baby, or getting Damian. Or maybe she fell off the counter and fucking died. Beats me I guess.

Shane steps forward again. He gets to closer for comfort. "Are you sure."

"Yes!" My hands are still up by my ears. My tool bag as fallen by my feet, our week's supply of granola tucked beneath it all. I hope he doesn't fucking take it-

"I don't believe you. Take me to your house."

"You're in it buddy." I say. Kevin kicks the back of my leg. Yeah, I should cut down on the sarcastic quips since this dude could kill me at any moment. 

"Where you store your supplies. In the walls dumbass. I take it you're not wandering around after befriending the humans."

"Ah, that's where you're wrong." I grin.

Shane seems momentarily frightened by the idea that we have a giant ally but decides I must be bluffing.

He shoves me. "Your supplies. Now!" 

Woah woah woah this is getting violent fast what the fuck?

I stumble backward, trying to grasp something to stop myself from falling. I yank Kevin's shoulder but just end up bringing him down with me.

"What the fuck, Janis?" He whines as we both land on our butts.

"Sorry!" I groan, standing up. "What's your damage dude?" I ask Shane.

"My damage is I need fucking food."

"Then get your own! Not in this house!" 

"Not when you have easy access to food in your storage."

"Our storage is empty!" I throw my hands up in exasperation. "Why do you think we're borrowing!"

Both Shane and I are very close to each other. I may not have a knife but momma didn't raise no bitch. I can throw a punch when needed. 

"Then shows me where you normally get food."

"Fucking starve." I spit.

"Janis-" Kevin tried to pull me backward but I'm livid.

Does this boy think he can come into our area and take out resources? Hell no.

Anger flashes in Shane's eyes as his arm thrusts forward.

I don't even feel the pain at first. It's only when he withdraws his arm- his stone-sword-weapon-bitch-thing covered in blood when my mind makes the connection.

Holy fucking shit.

That's my blood.

Kevin gasps as Shane steps back. 

The pain hits like a wave of nausea as I double over, my hands shooting to my side. 

Oh, fuck?

Fuck.

"Where's your food?" Shane's voice is calm like he thinks the answer will change now that he's made his point.

I grit my teeth, standing up. My shirt is turning red but I close my jacket to hide it.

Out of sight, out of mind. I've got ass to kick.

"We. Don't. Have. Shit. For. You."

The kitchen light flicks on and I smile, watching the color drain from Shane's face.

"Human." He whispers.

"Mhmm."

Damian stood in the doorway, Gretchen on his shoulder. On the outside, he looked pissed, but I could see by the way his shoulders tensed that he was worried as fuck. 

I step forward, trying to ignore the pain in my side and the way the world spins.

"What's going on here?" Damian asks. The bubbliness in his voice is gone. Its enough to make me a little nervous. Shane's eyes widened. "Nothing I just-"

"He attacked us." I say. I feel like a child tattle tailing on their sibling.

"I'd leave if I were you." Damian says, walking over to the counter. He places Gretchen down without removing his eyes from the rouge borrower.

Shane doesn't need to be told twice.

Fucking pussy.

He turns to run and I don't care where he goes because the world is spinning slightly.

Extremely slightly.

Its actually not slightly at all.

But who cares. It's only a bit of blood loss. The rouge borrower is gone. 

I turn back to Kevin, big grin on my face. He eyes where my hand is pressed to my jacket but doesn't say anything.

"You guys okay?" Damian asks.

"Yup!" I grin. Kevin just looks away.

"Kevin?" Damian tilts his head. "You didn't get hurt, did you?"

"No," Kevin says dryly. "I'm okay. It's J-"

"Our food is safe!" I cut of Kevin with a grin, scooping up my tool bag, granola still stashed away. 

Damian and Gretchen smile warmly both of them visibly relaxing. I almost feel guilty. But hey, I'll be fine. It's not that deep.

"I was freaking out when Gretchen came into my room," Damian explains. "Normally only Janis stops by. I'm glad you guys are safe."

"Yeah! You're okay!" Gretchen cheers running over to Kevin and me. She pulls me into a tight hug and I grit my teeth. Ow. Fucking-

"Gretch. Stop."

Gretchen pulls back, eyes wide. "Janis-"

Her hand has blood on it.

My blood. 

There's a lot of it.

Damian gasps.

Kevin is mumbling something.

Gretchen's got tears in her eyes?

Bitch I'm the one who got stabbed. Why are you crying?

The world is spinning a lot now.

"Oh- heh." I laugh but there's no humor. "That's a lot of blood."

"Janis!" Gretchen gasps. "What happened?!"

"I got fucking stabbed its not hard to tell." 

Hmm, I'm starting to think sarcasm might be my way to cover up fear.

Fun.

Kevin is oddly quiet. He always has some sort of remark for my attitude.

Damian is frozen too.

Probably because I'm dying.

I'm dying.

Shit.

"Well." I laugh softly, my hand pressed to my side. "This was fun."

"Don't talk like that." Kevin mumbles. The stern tone is gone though. "You're gonna be okay. Just- sit down. I'm going to go grab medical shit."

"Don't lie to her, Kev. She dying. Shes-" Gretchen is full crying at this point.

"No, she's not!" Kevin snaps. "No- no shes not. I- I'll be right back."

I am dying, though.

I don't say it out loud. I don't want it to be true either.

I sit on the ground. My legs feel weak. My eyes feel tired. My side is burning yet ice cold at the same time. 

Blood is sticky. 

That’s a fact I would live without knowing.

"Jan, no." There's high panic in Damian's voice. "You need to stay awake."

Kinda forgot Damian was there. I don't want him to see me die. That's too sad.

Gretchen kneels in front of me. Her hand pushed down on my side above my hands. I cry out in pain but I know shes trying to stop the blood. "C'mon Janis. Kevin will be back. You need to stay awake."

Despite everything Gretchen is telling me I let myself fall backward, staring up at the ceiling. 

I was losing blood fucking fast I guess. I went from 10/10 hiding it to laying on the ground staring at the ceiling in seconds. 

Of all the ways a borrower can die, I get stabbed. I had family members drown in sinks, eaten by pets, starved from unpredictable human schedules- and  I’m killed off my another borrower.

Fucking great. 

"Janis." There's panic in Damian's voice. "Please. Sit up. Stay awake."

It's too hard. 

I’m tired. 

I can’t.

"Janis!" Gretchen is full sobbing. 

I'm sorry, Gretch. Sorry for being a bitch ass roomate. My bad.

Everything sounds muffled. I think I can hear Kevin returning. There are more hands.

Everything hurts.

I don't have enough energy to push them off.

"Jan, Love. You need to stay awake."

Damian.

Thanks for telling me all about your world. They were fun stories to hear. 

Love you.

"C'mon Janis. You're stronger than this. You really gonna let one rouge borrower take you down?"

It appears I am, Kevin.

Sorry guys.

If I were to quote bear, oops. Lol. Tags! @realmisspolarbear @musicallygt @sourishlemons @smallsoysauce

[pressedinthepages]

Chapter 12: Threshold

Summary: In the aftermath of training, both you and Eskel find yourselves confused and seeking advice.

Series Masterlist

Words: 1966

(There is a link on my page where you can be added to my taglist :D)

Warnings: mild language, angsty, hurt no comfort...yet, neither of them are using the braincell.

    “What have I done?” You cradle your head in your hands, grasping at any thread of control to keep yourself together. Your mind races over all of the different shoulds that you had overlooked - should have kept Eskel at arm’s length, should have parted ways after that hunt, should have not let yourself fall for him all over again, should, should, should…

    You think that you could continue on this path, wallowing in your own mistakes that have changed the course of your life when you hear a sudden knock on your door.

    …

    “What have I done?” Eskel sits where you left him for a few minutes, stunned and achingly hard, but the latter problem ends up sagging into nothingness soon enough. He runs his hands through his hair, mulling over what he could have possibly done to warrant such a visceral reaction from you.

    He climbs to his feet and stumbles over to the stables. Eskel kicks up little puffs of snow with every step, his breath visible as it is pulled by the wind. When he shoulders open the doors he is hit with a comforting warmth from a fire raging in the fireplace. Li’l Bleater bounds over to him, clearly discontent with the fact that it has taken him so long today to come to see her. He typically comes here every morning before dawn, feeding all of the animals, brushing them down, and making sure that everyone will be comfortable until one of them can come let them out later in the day.  

    “Already took care of it, son,” a soft voice calls from one of the stalls before its owner strides out. Vesemir brushes his hands off on his jerkin, Lady following close behind him. Eskel leans against the wall and slides to the ground with a huff, Li’l Bleater clambering into his lap as soon as he is seated.

    “Vesemir, I-I think I’ve really messed up,” Eskel whispers, keeping his eyes trained on the floor. He finds himself idly scratching the fur on Li’l Bleaters’ head as her eyes fall closed, clearly more than happy to keep him trapped here while he figures out his problems. 

    “I noticed the two of you training this morning, seemed like you were really working well together,” Vesemir’s voice is soothing as he runs his hands through Lady’s mane, swiftly untangling the knots and sectioning it to be braided. “Here, come help me.”

    Eskel sighs as he stands, crossing over to your horse. She snorts at him, somehow able to recognize the hurt that pours from him. She still lets him stroke along her nose as he offers an apple, then moves next to Vesemir as he takes some of the mane in his hands. 

    “Tell me what happened.” Vesemir doesn’t look away from Lady as he works, letting Eskel go at his own pace. 

    “Well, we were sparring, working on blocking and parries,”

    “Yes, I saw that,”

    “And then I overpowered her, brought her to the ground. But something shifted, like we weren’t training anymore, we were-I don’t know. But I felt like I just couldn’t pull away from her, no matter how hard I tried.”

    “Mhm, saw that too,” Vesemir hums, Eskel’s gaze snapping over to him. “That’s when I came in here, didn’t want to watch the two of you getting off in the middle of the courtyard.”

    “But that’s just it, we didn’t!” Eskel turns back to his braid, having to move back a few because he lost his place. “She twisted out, bringing us back to the fight. But then, she moved just right, and then she ended up bringing me down, and then when she was holding me there, we-gods, we just went somewhere, like the whole world fell away and all that was left was the two of us.”

    “And then, all of a sudden, she shot off of me, backing away like I was some feral animal.” Eskel’s voice breaks a little bit, but he clears his throat and keeps going, “She ran inside, and I have no idea what I did wrong...maybe I just read this all wrong.”

    …

    “Nah, you’ve got it right.”

    Geralt had shoved his way into your room when you opened the door, inviting himself in and making himself comfortable in the chair by the fireplace. You’d just finished going over the events of this morning, trying to figure out the easiest way to extract yourself back out of the corner that you’ve dug yourself into. 

    “What do you mean? I fucking held him down, and was using him, no more than some common whore.”

    “First of all, you wouldn’t do that to a whore either…”

    “What do you know, Geralt? We haven’t seen each other in three decades, you think you know how I treat the people I take to bed?”

    Geralt grunts, giving you a look, one that calls you on your bullshit without a single word.

    “You clearly care for him, what’s holding you back?”

    You give a breathy laugh, looking at him as if he had suddenly sprouted horns. “What’s holding me back? Hmm, let’s see. I’m essentially cursed-,”

    “Not true, and we’re going to find that son of a bitch,”

    “Witcher’s can’t feel-”

    “Wrong again, have you met Lambert? Fucking angriest prick I’ve ever met.”

    “And there’s no way he could ever feel the same for me. Why should he? I abandoned him, I abandoned everyone, and then, now, all I can think about is running again.”

    “No.” Geralt’s voice booms in your tiny room, startling you a bit when you meet his gaze. The fire in the grate reflects off of his eyes, only adding to the intensity there. You are suddenly struck with how similar he looks to Eskel, their body shapes almost identical and the only major differences between them being their hair and the scar that rakes along Eskel’s cheek. 

    “What do you mean, ‘no?’ I am a grown woman, Geralt, thank you very much, and I will not have you telling me what I can and cannot-”

    “Would you shut up for a moment? I am not trying to tell you what to do, but you really shouldn’t just run away from this...you have an opportunity here, a real opportunity to actually be happy, shouldn’t you take it?”

    …

    “An opportunity? Vesemir, she can’t possibly love me, I mean, look at me.” Eskel has started a second braid, thankful to be able to keep his hands busy. His braids are a bit sloppy compared to Vesemirs, but at least they’re better than what any of the others could do. 

    “Yes, boy, an opportunity. And gods, get over yourself. You think she actually cares about that scar?” Vesemir strokes along Lady’s flank as he speaks, laving her with care under his fingers. 

    “It’s all anyone sees Vesemir, she didn’t even recognize me at first…”

    Vesemir hums, quietly contemplating his next words. “But once she saw who you were, has she actually given you a reason to think that she thinks less of you because of them?” 

    Eskel falls silent, trying to remember if there had ever been a time that you were anything but caring towards him. Vesemir nods, taking his silence as answer enough. 

    “You should tell her. I remember when the three of you were young, how you and Geralt would bicker over her, and then you were the only one who still held a candle for her when you all started on the Path.”

    “‘Held a candle?’ Gods, Vesemir, sometimes I forget just how old you are.” Eskel teases, bringing a soft smile to Vesemir’s face. 

    “Shut it you, I’m just trying to help.”

    …

    “Yeah, well, your advice sucks.”

    You pace around your room, trying to see things from Geralt’s point of view. He keeps saying that it would be worth the risk to expose your long-repressed feelings for Eskel, but you can’t see past the horrifying concept of being known. 

    “Fucking hell, you’ve only grown more stubborn. What could happen, hm? What is so bad that could happen if you told him?”

    “He could push me away, leave me…” you whisper, terrified of that ever happening. 

    “Like how you left him?”

    You stop in your tracks, meeting his eyes from across the room. Your hands clench at your sides, fighting back the tears that begin to well in your eyes. You know he’s right, but you can’t bring yourself to admit that.

    “That’s low, Geralt.”

    “But am I wrong?” He crosses his arms, not backing down as you swallow and break eye contact, moving to the window. You look down at the empty training yard below, a fresh dusting of snow beginning to settle atop it.

    You hear Geralt cross to the door and open it, murmuring as he leaves, “You guys need to figure it out.”

    …

    Later that afternoon, you find yourself pulling open the door to the library. Eskel is perched on one of the windowsills, a thick book open in his hands. He looks up as you enter, something very complicated flying over his features before he turns back to the book. 

    You move to stand closer to him, probably able to touch him if you reached out. “What are you reading?” You ask lightly, hoping that he’ll ignore the way your heart is pounding inside of your chest. 

    “Beastiary, just freshening up. I fought an oddly strong bruxa a few months back, thought I’d see if there were anything in here about what might’ve been different about her.”

    Eskel suddenly slams the book shut, swinging his legs down from the sill to fully face you. You feel horribly vulnerable under his scrutinizing gaze, even though all you can see is confusion and weariness in his eyes. 

    “I just wanted to say-”

    “You know, I think that-”

    You both chuckle lightly, the tension palpable in the room when you both speak. Eskel gestures to you, silently asking you to speak first once more. 

    You take a deep breath and steel your nerves. “I wanted to apologize for earlier.” You hold up a hand as Eskel starts to sputter, clearly some argument coming to his lips. “It was inappropriate for me to take advantage of the situation like that, and I hope that you’ll forgive me.”

    “Forgive? Listen, if anyone should be apologizing, it’s me, I just-”

    “Eskel please, I just want to say this one thing.” He sighs and relents, falling quiet as he gently runs his thumb along the spine of the book. You can’t tear your eyes away from it as you speak, each word like a stab in the heart.

    “I think it would be easiest if we both just forgot that it happened. We can move on, still be friends, I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if you were cross with me after this.”

    Eskel looks as if he had just been slapped across the face with a fish, mouth agape and confusion written in every line on his skin. 

    “I-well, uh, if that’s what you want, that’s fine, um...” 

    You try to ignore the hurt that plagues his features, and the sorrowful scent that the room adopts and lets seep into the pages of the books tucked in the corners. 

    Instead, you extend your hand, bracing for him to slap it away and scream horrible things in your face. You know better though, Eskel has never been like that. He stews, lets the wrongs done against him sit deep in his belly until all of his anger bubbles over into an outburst of rage. 

    For now, though, he just takes your hand in his and gives a little shake, neither of you looking as though this was the outcome you had been hoping for.

[aminiatureworld]

The Music of the Night

Ship: Geralt x Jaskier

Warnings: Someone gets stabbed

Premise:  The family goes to a music concert, courtesy of Jaskier, and Geralt gets to experience something he never has before.

Author’s Note: I was hoping to post every five days, but unfortunately with classes starting and the larger Medieval AU this fic was a long time coming. I was more liberal with Geralt and Jaskier being open about their feelings, or at least I tried to be.

Hope you enjoy this fanfic and thank you so much to the 42 people who liked my last Geraskier fanfic as well as the 6 people who reblogged it.  Know that every single one of you contribute so much to my happiness and my determination to continue writing!

Notes about pieces, historical accuracy, and other such things in end note. Ao3 link in reblog

            “Alright, are we ready to go?” Yennefer shouted down the hall. Geralt ground his teeth, staring at the array of weapons laid out in front of him. It was a very important night, one that Jaskier hadn’t shut up about for the better part of three months. A guild of musicians was in a town neighboring Yennefer’s newest stronghold, and the house’s resident bard had been adamant that this would be a perfect family outing, and that no one was getting out of it. This hadn’t entirely been surprising, and Geralt had begrudgingly agreed to the whole endeavor, not being a huge fan of enclosed crowds. When he’d realized that maybe going to a concert unarmed in the middle of what could only be described as the Continent losing its collective mind was a bad move, his intensely minute planning, something that both Yennefer and Jaskier teased him mercilessly about since he’d properly brought Ciri into the family, had spun out of control. Now there the Witcher was, staring at the various knives, daggers, swords, and other miscellaneous weapons that he’d found lying around the house, wondering which to take and which to leave. The two usual swords were among the bunch, of course, but somehow Geralt knew that Jaskier wouldn’t take kindly to them being brought, something along the lines of ruining the atmosphere. Still, he had to bring something and as the banging in the hall grew louder Geralt wondered how he’d ever easily made up his mind about arming himself before.

           “Geraltttt!” Jaskier’s voice came singing down the hall, followed almost immediately by the banging of the door. Rushing over, he planted a quick kiss on Geralt’s cheek, something which never failed to bring on a blush, and shook his head excitedly. “You look lovely in everything darling, I promise no one will be in the mood to glare.” Geralt smiled fondly, if a bit exasperatedly, at the bard, before shaking his head.

           “That’s not it. I, well, was trying to choose.” He gestured towards the table and Jaskier, turning around and surveying the paraphernalia, nodded thoughtfully.

           “Hmm… tough choice.” He brought his hand to his chin for a moment, before his eyes lit up and he picked up a dirk sheathed in black leather. “I’ll take this one!” Checking to confirm the blade was indeed steel, Jaskier smiled up at the, admittedly baffled, Geralt, who couldn’t understand the bent that Jaskier was taking.

           “Jaskier, I-”

           “Oh and of course the others will need something too!” Jaskier scurried into the hallway. “Guys!! Geralts got his weapons laid out, better get one!” There was an incoherent reply from Yennefer, and the quick footsteps of Ciri, who, running into the room, grabbed a thin knife, this one wrapped in ordinary leather with green silk woven into the hilt, an old gift from a grateful pawnshop owner if Geralt could remember right. Geralt frowned as Ciri ran back out of the room, but before he could raise a protest Yennefer had waltzed in, scanned the table, and ran off with an elegant dagger, a whirling pattern built into the blade. Geralt immediately gave a grunt of protest at that, but Yennefer simply raised an eyebrow and walked out. Jaskier, returning, walked up to the poor Witcher, who was running about three paces behind the entire ordeal, and gave him a smile. “Thank you for thinking of that! This should be a relatively calm affair, more serious you know, but hey, protection is always a must!”

           “I… those were for me.” Geralt shook his head. “I couldn’t choose which to pick.”

           “Well, we’ve whittled down the selection haven’t we?” Jaskier smiled indulgently. “Now hurry up and choose yours now, you know how much I’ve been longing for this, and nothing is going to stop me from enjoying tonight. Especially not a late indecisive witcher.” And, pressing a kiss on Geralt’s nose, and nearly falling on him in the process, Jaskier ducked out, leaving the slightly bashful Witcher to pick up a weapon, another dirk, this one wrapped in old worn leather with half rubbed off runes cut into it, and run after him.

           The venue was already quite crowded when they arrived, and the front seats full. Jaskier gave a dramatic groan at that, but Ciri, muttering a quick word of assurance, ducked off to find four seats. Geralt could barely make her out, as she slipped quickly and quietly between various patrons, but he trusted in her abilities not only to find a good spot but to be able to take care of herself. The latter part of that trust had been harder to build up, the first few weeks they were together Geralt felt as if he were walking on melting ice, worried about the various ways he might put his newfound family in trouble. It had taken a lot of lectures from Yennefer and coaxing from Jaskier for the Witcher to finally accept that Ciri wasn’t a waifish girl in need of coddling; after all, hadn’t she survived without him? Through war and death and a cult chasing after her? No, Geralt now knew that being a good adoptive father didn’t mean locking one’s daughter away, even out of paternal worry.

           As Ciri waved the band over to a set of seats in the third row, Jaskier admitting that the choice was “not bad at all”, Geralt reflected for a moment on where he was now in life. He’d never thought at the beginning of his life he’d be a witcher, and he’d never thought at the beginning of his witcher life that’d he’d be destined for anything other than a lonely life, walking the Path with the cold determination of someone who knew no other way. How odd fate had proved out to be, and how grateful Geralt was that he’d been wrong. How happy he was that his life had changed, that he had changed, for the old Geralt knew nothing about either reflection or hope, not in the way current Geralt did, and as he slipped into one of the creaky wicker chairs set up around the semi circled stage, Geralt glanced at the family around him. Yennefer was enquiring after Jaskier the type of music that was to be played, the bard replying with a garble of songwriter facts and music theory that no one but himself understood, while Ciri was scouting the people around them, trying to determine where they were from no doubt, as she’d once confessed to Geralt seeing Cintran refugees always gave her pause, even if she no longer felt the urge to walk up and say hello. It was a happy sight, despite everything that had happened, the mistakes, the goings, the years apart. It was nice to have a night such as this, and as Jaskier turned to glance at the Witcher he seemed to wink, as if to say to Geralt, see, I told you this was a good idea. Geralt lifted his eyebrow, but he couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his face, and as the people hushed and the musicians came out Geralt found himself very happy he’d let that bard follow him around.

          Geralt wasn’t entirely sure what he expected out of this night. He knew that it wouldn’t be the same experience as tavern songs, that this wasn’t going to simply be a group of bards, that the singing would be minimal, and that the songs would be longer and more complicated. What he certainly wasn’t expecting was the sheer beauty that hit him. The song started with one musician playing a fiddle, a low pleasant sound, which rose up in a variety of trills. It put Geralt in the mid of early springtime, the birds just emerging from their nests, or coming up from where they’d left. It made him think of the fields right after a frost, buds beginning to dot the trees, the world coming to life again. Slowly the other musicians, of which there were about 60, began to join in with the lone player, adding to the effect of a world waking. The music chased away the rest of Geralt’s thoughts, and he found himself leaning forward, as if somehow he could envelope himself in the notes floating around the theatre.

           A glance over at Jaskier made evident that the bard was also feeling affected by the music, for the bard had clasped his hands over his mouth, though every once in a while one would float up, as if guided by the music, and Jaskier’s eyes would close. It was a side that Geralt hadn’t really seen before, for though he knew of course that Jaskier loved music, loved it in an all consuming way, he didn’t show it often, mostly joking that no one wanted to hear the intricacies of Dorian mode, or listen to him sing the praises of men and women long dead. A warm feeling filled Geralt’s chest, and he was almost choked by the sense of fondness that he felt, surrounded by what Jaskier loved best, watching him in his element. Turning back to the performers Geralt thanked every god he could think of and all the ones he couldn’t that Jaskier had brought the family, and that Geralt got to be around such a beautiful being and share in such a beautiful experience.

           The music continued, each song more beautiful than the last. After what Geralt could only call the springtime piece came what seemed like four, but Jaskier later told him was only one split up into different “movements”. Their, or rather its, tone was dark, and even when the song seemed faster Geralt only felt agitated, rather than happy. Deciding he didn’t like that as much as the first song, though Ciri rather seemed excited by the frantic energy of it, Geralt was glad when four guild members stepped out and began playing a calmer song, this one another split in four, why did songwriters do such a thing? The second part of the four songs was quiet and soft, almost like a lullaby, and when the third part started again at a bright tone Yennefer, who’d dozed off, jerked up in her seat, to the great amusement of both Ciri and Jaskier, who giggled so incessantly that someone behind them told them in no uncertain terms to either shut up or go home. After that was a song much more based in the flutes and the reeded instruments, which consequently sounded much more fluid and loose, bringing to mind a great city with lazy morals and interesting sights. Geralt was enjoying himself immensely, a happiness only added to by Jaskier’s occasional squeals of glee and raucous clapping at the end of each song, as well as a whisper in Geralt’s ear whenever the Witcher seemed to get lost.

           The night was fading away and as the musicians announced that this was to be their last piece the crowd moaned, and shouts of encore echoed through the hall. The musicians stood up and bowed, causing many in the audience to jump to their feet in applause, and some even to begin to walk out, much to Jaskier’s annoyance. “They’re going to miss the best of it.” He scoffed, sitting back down as the stage emptied. Emptied that is except for one woman. She paused, waiting for the noise to calm down, before placing her fiddle on her shoulder. “This is it.” Jaskier whispered, and then she began. Immediately Geralt was blown away. Although there was only of her, multiple notes were certainly coming out of the instrument, at a breakneck pace, which had Geralt in mind of a horse, frantic and wild. The song developed, as a sweet melody came out of the endless pounding of hooves, only to be brought down by another melody, this one thick with panic and fear. The momentum kept going, pitches rising, melodies crashing into each other. It felt more like a torrent than a song, so swept away Geralt felt, giving him an odd sense of dread. Suddenly everything smashed into one another, and the song dropped, giving one the lingering feeling of discomfort. Turning to Jaskier, Geralt looked at the bard with raised eyebrows, not entirely sure how to convey what he’d felt. Jaskier glanced back at him with what seemed like satisfaction. “Based off a poem,” he explained, “of a man trying to save his son, only to be chased by a specter, one who promises the boy happiness and luxury if he goes with him, only to take his soul and kill the boy.” He sighed, seeming much happier than Geralt felt, for a pit had begun to form in the Witcher’s stomach. “Imagine your writing being immortalized in such a way… one day that’ll be my piece Geralt, just you wait. I’ll be the one striking fear into your heart.”

           “I hope not.” Geralt responded, a bit brusque for he couldn’t get the image out of his mind. “It sounds like a terrible poem.”

           “Tragedy is immortalized better than glory. I’m sure you understand that. Besides, it’s just a story, and one that can bring all people together. You thought her playing was beautiful didn’t you?” He gestured towards the woman, who was receiving heaps of deafening applause. Geralt nodded slowly. He couldn’t deny the talent of both the musician and the songwriter. Still, the music sat uncomfortably over him, and as the family made ready to leave, he couldn’t help but let everyone pass in front of him, thinking of how even if the scenario in the poem itself wasn’t true, the general idea certainly was real enough.

           Outside the air seemed to clear a bit, and the group fell into happy chatter. Ciri was still on about how bombastic that second song had been; “I can’t believe how loud they got sometimes! It was like the roof was going to fall!” Yennefer said nothing, rubbing her eyes slightly, but the look on her face was one of contentment. And, of course, Jaskier seemed ready to burst, talking this way and that about all sorts of things. “Did you see the way the fiddle bows were all together? And the vibrato on that first flautist, I couldn’t believe it! Shame that vibrato isn’t exactly a lute thing. And I can’t believe how much work the composer must’ve put into those pieces! I mean, I can barely read two clefs, imagine being able to read four! Maybe I should consider that for the next big project…” His voice carried off, and Geralt smiled indulgently, knowing that for the next few months there’d probably be horrendous amount of noise as this bard tried to put all he’d seen to good use in his own music. Inhaling the cool, fresh air, Geralt began to feel the shroud of that last song shake off, reminding him of how beautiful he’d thought the first song was.

           The reverie didn’t last forever though, for as the group made their way out of the stables – Yennefer had insisted on no stays at the inns, for who would spend that much money when there was a perfectly fine home only five miles away – and into the woods the atmosphere seemed much more oppressive. When two men stepped out of the shadows Geralt tensed, wishing he’d brought his swords after all. “What brings you to stop in these dense woods?” Jaskier called out, swinging out of the saddle, a move which caused Geralt’s throat to constrict, and made him simultaneously want to protect and strangle the bard. The men said nothing, and Jaskier shook his head, shrugging his shoulders and holding his hands out to the tall, ragged figures. “Well if you say nothing I cannot help you, and will assume that you’re playing a rather insipid game of hide-and-seek. Now if you don’t mind it’s late, and I’d rather spend a cold night like this in bed than staring a statues.” Going to turn Jaskier stopped in his tracks when one of the men piped up.

           “Those are some nice horses. Nice clothes too.”

           “Oh you think so?” Jaskier turned around. “I’ll admit I do agree my fashion is impeccable, I’m glad you can see that. But unfortunately I think your judgement on horses is rather lacking. I mean of course Lyra is the loveliest girl, but honestly could you say Roach is anything close to nice?” He gestured towards Geralt, who gripped the reins. The men on the road had the sense to look slightly uneasy at the realization that a witcher was amidst the party, but “evidently they had a scarcity of sense, common or otherwise” Jaskier would later say, for they both looked back upon the bard, and the bulkier of the two drew a ragged sword out of its sheath.

           “We’ll be taking Lyra and Roach now. And the horses of those lovely ladies.” The second began walking towards Yennefer and Ciri, the former of who raised her eyebrows, and the latter of who looked extremely unimpressed.

           “Do what you want.” Jaskier threw his hands up, as if in surrender. “I must warn you however that one such lovely lady is unused to having her horse stolen out from underneath her, and I daresay mages aren’t known for their forbearance.” The two men halted for a second, and the one closer to Jaskier turned towards the bard. Geralt by now had begun to slide off Roach, looking backwards to make sure there were only two such men, and taking care to be as silent as possible. Jaskier looked as unruffled as ever, and even when the bulky man took a step towards the bard, he stayed in his position, leaning slightly against Lyra, arms crossed at his chest.

           “It’s no good lying to us.” The bandit, for that was most surely what these two people were, had a voice that could only be accurately described as gravely. He pointed his sword towards the bard. “I’ll have to teach you a lesson.”

           “How menacing of you.” Jaskier deadpanned, and as the man lunged and Geralt made for his weapon it seemed for a moment as if Jaskier was truly about to get struck.

           The surprise on the other man’s face was one of complete terror, as his compatriot dropped like a stone. Jaskier pulled his dirk, now drenched to the hilt in blood, out of the man’s ribcage, turning to Geralt, who was likewise frozen. The last bandit distracted Yennefer made quick work snapping her fingers, and in place of the man soon stood a very confused rabbit. Whirling off her own horse Ciri stepped towards the animal, who made a weird sort of strangled sound before bolting into the forest. Walking over to Geralt, Jaskier handed the Witcher the dirk. “Could you hold this for me? My handkerchief is in my pocket, and this doublet is newly made.” Careful to avoid using his right hand, Jaskier pulled out the square of linen, and wiped his hands and the dirk, before sliding the blade back into its sheath. “Thank you darling!” Jaskier planted a kiss on Geralt’s hand, causing the inevitable blush. The poor Witcher still felt like he’d somehow missed something, and as he looked around at the rest of his family, already back on their horses and starting to move on, the Witcher wondered how he’d become the pacifist in the family.

           The rest of the ride was quite a jumpy one for the Witcher, who kept expecting various monsters, highwaymen, and other of the sort to come jumping out of the trees at any moment. By the time Yennefer’s place was in sight, Geralt felt an immense sense of relief, and as the group all untacked their horses, Ciri, determined to be the fastest of the group, already combing Melusine, Geralt stayed silent, ears trained on the soft sounds of the night outside. The cleaning done and the hay placed in the stables, the family filed back into the house, Geralt at the rear, locking the bolt to both the stables and the house firmly behind him. “Did you enjoy yourself?” Jaskier immediately asked.

           “A bit too long for my taste, but you couldn’t deny the talent.” Yennefer yawned. “Thank you for having us attend Jaskier.”

           “Of course my dear Yennefer.” Jaskier dipped into a short bow. Yennefer snorted and walked up the stairs, the bath was definitely going to be hogged for the next hour or so.

           “I liked all of it!” Ciri declared, plopping down on the rug in front of the fireplace in the main hall. “It reminded me of the kinds of concerts my grandmother liked to see. I was glad to go to such a thing again.” She smiled softly, and Geralt and Jaskier both walked over to the girl, enveloping her in a group hug. Ciri hummed happily. “Thank you both.” And giving each of the two a quick hug she too went up the stairs, closing the room to her door with a bang, as was custom.

           “And you?” Jaskier looked over to Geralt. “Don’t you dare say anything about a filling-less pie this time. I know you lied through your teeth then, and I’ll know you’ll be lying now.” Geralt smiled, old memories swirling through his mind, how long ago that seemed now.

           “I liked it. It was…” he paused, trying to find the right words, “different. All the songs were different, but they all fit together. And I felt, carried away.” He lay back on the carpet and sighed. “I felt almost as if there was a spell in the air.”

           Jaskier nodded, flopping down besides Geralt. “That’s how I feel too about it. You hear this piece sometimes, and, I can’t even describe it but your entire soul is lifted up, and you just start to drown in it, but you don’t even mind, you want to be further enveloped, further dragged in. That’s what true music can do. Cast a spell without magic.” Geralt turned to look at Jaskier, who himself was staring into the fireplace. “One day I’ll do something like that.” He continued, his eyes warm and full of determination. “I’ll create something like that.”

           “I think you already have.” Geralt said, and Jaskier turned to smile at the Witcher.

           “Truly?”

           “Yes. I think, well, I’ve seen how people react to your music. Even those in the shittiest taverns in the shittiest towns. They seem, almost younger, as if their cares have lifted.” Jaskier’s smiled widened, and he pressed a kiss to Geralt’s jaw.

           “Thank you my dea, you have no idea how much that means to me.” Standing up, Jaskier reached out his hand and helped pull Geralt up. “Now be a darling and help wash this dirk, I know that you have your fancy way of cleaning these blades of yours. Then come to bed, it’s late, and I’ll chase away the spirits of the forest.” He laughed at Geralt’s expression. “What? You think I didn’t notice? That last piece seemed to send you out of your skin! And even before that idiotic attempted attack you look ready to throw yourself in front of everything.”

           “Cruel of you to notice.” Geralt replied, and Jaskier laughed.

           “Well then I must be cruel indeed, for I notice everything about you.” He kissed Geralt softly then, and the Witcher felt the familiar feeling of love and contentment wash over him, something he never thought he’d be able to feel in his younger years.

           “There’s nothing cruel about you. Even if you’re wicked with a knife.” And, returning the kiss, Geralt went quickly to take the dirk and wash it off, the music of the evening still in his head and the love for his current life in his heart.

End Notes: For all the music nerds out there, I know that these would all be considered songs rather than pieces, one of these are based off a full symphony, and another based off a string quartet, but seeing as I don't think Geralt would use such terminology, indeed most of said terminology didn't exist in the 13th/14th century, which is the time period I would put this series into the real world, I chose to refer to pieces as songs, composers as songwriters, and make vague mentions of most instruments.

String instruments such as violins, violas, and cello originate from the 16th century, most likely around the 1530s. I took creative liberties again, after all this is a fantasy series.The pieces that are vaguely referenced are as follows: The Lark Ascending by Ralph Vaughan Williams, Dvorak Symphony No. 9 "from the New World", Dvorak String Quartet 12 "American", Rhapsody in Blue by George Gershwin, and Erlkonig originally by Schubert for piano and voice, adapted for solo violin by Heinrich William Ernst and based off a poem by Goethe. The last one is my personal favorite of the lineup and I would highly recommend checking out both the piano and voice lieder and the violin solo (Hilary Hahn's my favorite).

Hope any of you found this enlightening and once again thank you for reading.

[bigskydreaming]

thehollowprince said: And I also stand by the opinion that they could have just done a solo run of the O5 X-Men starting a new timeline with the information they got from the future.

thehollowprince said: Its not like Marvel doesn’t constantly do AUs and retcons

OMG Josh you have no idea how bad I wanted this. They could’ve done SO MUCH with that concept. Letting the 05 keep their foreknowledge and the world they could have created with that?

They could’ve averted the initial Krakoan mission and saved Darwin, Gabe, Petra and Sway in the first place. They could have all been X-Men from their Day One, Scott and Alex would have actually gotten to KNOW their brother and Gabe quite possibly would never have gone full Dark Side despite the writers apparently now seeming obsessed with the idea there’s just something innately bad within Gabe that’s always destined to bear fruit at some point, ugh, whatever, like who do you think you are, Kant?

They could’ve recruited the Giant Size X-Men lineup earlier, and saved John Proudstar, who side by side with his brother Jamie, are a force to be reckoned with. 

They could have convinced Pietro and Wanda to join them instead of the Avengers and been like no but seriously that way lies nothing but shitty storylines and bad decisions that will be blamed on you by your teammates despite the fact that any and all of the bad decisions that were ACTUALLY yours could have been averted if any of your teammates were capable of functioning as an actual support system. Come join us. We have actual support systems, except for the times when we don’t, but we recruited Deadpool to break the fourth wall and he and Logan are currently cutting through the ranks of every writer who would write as hating and fighting each other instead of being a loving fucking family goddammit.

Jean could have faced the Phoenix head-on when the time for that came, using her knowledge of the future not to fear an inevitable death, but rather to know she had nothing TO fear, that the power to not control this force, but just be ONE with it, with no NEED to control it or be controlled by it, a symbiotic union, two beings in harmony deciding on courses of action together. The Phoenix’s innate powers and prerogative of rebirth and destruction tempered by Jean’s mercy, aimed and focused by Jean’s reason, the double-edged sword that is fire capable of warming homes or destroying them completely combined with Jean’s conscience guiding it to use its power for the former rather than the latter.

They could have stopped the Legacy Virus from getting out and killing millions as well as spared us from migraines induced by an AIDS metaphor so shitty at being a metaphor most people forget it was literally written to be an AIDS metaphor.

The body swap would never have happened and Kwannon could have joined the X-Men as a full member from the time she was introduced, rather than dragged along in the wake of Betsy’s tangled storylines for a couple decades.

They could have stopped Fitzroy from killing the Hellions. Hell, if they train Illyana early enough and have her mentored by Wanda who is perfectly fucking competent when left to her own devices, then like, maybe they can even take a jaunt to the future to save Fitzroy from dying in the first place and being resurrected with no soul. Not gonna lie, ever since then I’ve kinda been seriously interested in what the hell would a hero version of Trevor freaking Fitzroy even BE like, y’know? Call it morbid fascination, but like. I kinda want it, guys. LOL.

Add to that note, they could have taken another jaunt to the future and rescued Rachel from being made into a Hound by Ahab. Through the power of some convoluted plot tangle I just made up for convenience, Scott still ends up in a relationship with Maddy briefly, in one of those self-fulfilling prophecy type things where he went into it with the full intention of just averting the future and saving Maddy from her fate as the Goblyn Queen, but somehow ended up in a love triangle with a very alive Jean and Maddy who is fully informed of Sinister’s shenanigans and quite displeased with that asshole, and look, I don’t know how all of this goes exactly, but let’s cut to the chase, my only real endgame with this is making sure that Nate’s born properly, saved from Apocalypse and the techno-virus by the combined efforts of Scott, Maddy and Jean as well as Uncles Warren, Bobby and Hank, and Jean calls up the Phoenix through some psychic bond or whatever and is like hey girl, can I hit you up for a loan real quick? Got some losers that need toasting. 

And in this AU the Phoenix totally has her back, and one brief cosmic power-up and gratuitous Sailor Moon transformation later, Jean glows and intones some epic one-liners with appropriate gravitas, and then just punts both Apocalypse and Sinister to the far side of the universe, never to be seen or heard from again. They like, hit a black hole on the way there I guess. It was very sad. Violin strings may commence with the requiem. Okay that’s enough, they can stop now.

So then through the plot contrivances of fuck you, I said so, Scott and Maddy ultimately part amicably and Scott and Jean get back together and the three of them civilly co-parent both baby Nate and Rachel, as Maddy keeps the healing powers she gained as Anodine and stays with the X-Men for her own reasons.

The telepaths are all better trained by the expertise Jean gained in her powers while in the future, so the next time the Shadow King comes bumming around looking to cause chaos, Betsy, Emma and Jean just look at each other and laugh and say nuh-uh before psychically squishing him into a marble.

Warren never becomes Archangel. Onslaught isn’t a thing. They make nice with Magneto and say okay you may have a couple points, let’s discuss. Bishop arrives in the past for reasons totally unrelated to his original story, has no traitor to seek out among the X-Men, and thus he and Gambit end up besties in complete defiance of that stupid fucking story and because I just think they’re neat together. Yes I said neat. Gambit and Bishop are just neat. Deal with it. 

Bishop still hates that Fitzroy guy though, he’s like, I don’t even know what it is about that guy, he just rubs me the wrong way, even though Fitzroy is not evil here and has always done good with his powers, which are channeled through a device Forge made him that lets him just absorb life force from a wide range around him, spread out and diluted enough that its like, the grass feels weird for a second, like whoa what even was that, and then its over. Actually, y’know what, scratch that. Fitzroy’s powers are stupid and unnecessary the way they are now anyway, so fuck it, this Fitzroy doesn’t need life force or whatever, he’s just a dude who makes time portals. He’s like Illyana with green hair and that ugly goatee. Hey I said this Fitzroy was non-evil, not that he was perfect.

Bobby’s out and proud since he was sixteen, and with actual competence and proficiency with his powers, which make him a Literal Unkillable Gay Icon, he’s an inspiration to LGBTQ+ teens everywhere and inspires other gay, bi and trans heroes to come out. He’s a big brother figure to all the baby gays that later join the X-Men, like, Rictor comes to him for advice back during the time equivalent to early X-Factor, when Rictor’s a trying-too-hard sixteen year old who thought college age Bobby was like the coolest, which is valid, because X-Factor Bobby was like A+ Bobby characterization and deserves more reads. 

So Rictor comes out earlier as well, and by the time they even meet Shatterstar, instead of a slow burn friends to roommates to lovers scenario, Rictor takes one look at the love of his life and wastes no time coming out swinging with an absolutely terrible pick up line. Look, I said his big brother figure Bobby was out and proud in this AU, not that he magically had a better sense of humor. Some things just don’t change, y’know? Luckily, Shatterstar is a weirdo, and thus he finds terrible pick-up lines charming. At least when its Rictor saying them. They walk off for a first date, already practically hand in hand, voices fading into the distance as Rictor asks “By the way, have you met Dazzler yet? According to Bobby, apparently she’s your mom. That Longshot dude with the mullet over there is your dad I guess. We should go say hi.”

Hank gets an assistant hand-picked by the rest of the original X-Men, and who has one job and one job only. To follow him around and observe all his experiments, and he has veto power over experiments that People With IQs As High As Yours Should Know Better But I Guess You’ve Got Reed Richards Syndrome.

Hank’s like, “Hmm, if I built a time machine I could go back to the Jurassic Period and observe whether my theory of - “

Hank’s assistant: “Veto.”

“Damn. Okay I was also thinking of making a deep space communicator that can reach into the farthest reaches of space beyond any known civilization and just say hi, y’know? See if anyone’s out there.”

“Veto.”

“If I combine these genetically modified antibodies here with this strain of of DNA from - “

“Veto.”

“Well Forge built this device that does this to mutant powers but I think I can make it do - “

“Veto.”

“These nanobots I - “

“VETO,”

“Honestly, at this point I think you’re just saying that just because you like saying it.”

“Dr. McCoy, I promise you, I’m really, really not.”

Logan finds out about his future clan of stabby children, and seeks them out. He rescues Daken from Romulus, somebody stabs that loser with the immortal-killing sword, I don’t even care who, and after a few tense months of Logan trying too hard, he and Daken eventually bond over how hockey just isn’t violent enough. If you’re going to make a sport all about hitting each other, just really go for it or don’t even bother, y’know? Logan claps him on the shoulder and sniffs. That’s my boy. Then they find and rescue Laura and Gabby and take a road trip to Earth 1610 to pick up Jimmy. They have a house on campus, and new students walking by it are used to hearing loud growling and even howls. They were assured during orientation that that’s nothing to worry about, it just means the House of Snikt are watching a game and are rooting for opposing sides. 

Emma’s recruited practically the day they get back. She’s only just started at the Hellfire Club and has only done a tiny bit of Evil when Warren schedules an appointment with her, and then he, Scott and Jean make a better pitch than Shaw and his ilk could ever match. They’ve been to the future. Come join with us and we’ll give you an all access pass to memories detailing exactly what’s going to happen in these particular areas and many more. All you have to do is ask. Oh and also please don’t seduce any married teammates. Its bad form. To be honest, I don’t think it’ll be an issue because Deadpool assures us Morrison has been taken care of, and don’t worry if that makes no sense to you, its a head-scratcher for us to. Just roll with it. 

Nate ages normally here so its not like he ends up besties with forty year old Wade, but the latter having his own plot-contrived knowledge of the future because He’s Just Like That, decides that he won’t be denied at least SOME kind of bond with The Bestie That Wasn’t. He becomes Nate’s official babysitter. Well, not official, seeing as how Scott, Jean and Maddy don’t hire him and are very clear that their son is not to be left alone with this man at any time, he is a terrible influence and he keeps giving our kid guns. But then Wade just shows up anytime they’re out because he just has a sixth sense for Making Trouble, and he terrifies away whatever babysitter’s there and greets the returning and exasperated parents with a cheery wave. 

“I know what you’re going to say, but don’t worry, we didn’t do anything dangerous or against the law. All we did today was I taught him to make bombs, but we were very careful, we wore safety goggles and really, they were very little bombs. Not even anything atomic. I honestly don’t think any of them could have even blown up this whole house, and I’ve been meaning to say, I’m not impressed with the structural integrity of this place. Couldn’t you have picked something with a sturdier foundation? Its like you don’t even expect random space mercenaries to attack your place out of the blue every other month. Have any of you even read a single issue of your own comics?”

Scott’s jaw twitches Ominously. Wade starts gathering up his things. Jean rubs her forehead wearily.

“Wade, what do you even think ‘dangerous’ means?”

Wade pauses and cocks his head. Gives it a solid twenty seconds of thought. Then he shrugs. 

“I don’t know actually. Don’t think I’ve ever really thought about it. I always figured it was just one of those things people just say. Like, ‘oh, it looks like rain today,’ even if they’re not a forecaster and have no real meteorological credentials to speak of. ‘Oh, this mission will be dangerous,’ and I don’t even have to use up all my ammo and I only get shot twice. Y’know?”

“Leave,” Scott says. More like intones. House shakes a little bit but that might just be Wade’s imagination. Its very active.

“Leaving!” He says hastily. He jumps through the closed window and then teleports away amid the falling shower of broken glass. Why didn’t he do that while he was still inside the room? No one knows. Not even Wade knows. Why did the chicken cross the road? Who the fuck cares, now is it Original Recipe or Crispy?

Scott, Jean and Maddy search the house while Nate angelically claims they won’t find anything, Wade doesn’t even bring him cool stuff anymore cuz he knows you’ll just take it.

Maddy finds a high-tech laser space gun under a floorboard in the closet. She holds it up with one eyebrow raised pointedly. Scott and Jean flank her and their own eyebrows raise in solidarity. Well Jean’s does. Scott’s probably does but its hard to tell sometimes. Depends on what glasses or visor he’s wearing.

“That was already there,” Nate tries. Most powerful telepath and telekinetic in the world, but the kid can’t lie for shit. There’s not much point in trying when one of your moms is the freaking Phoenix, and that’s a skill that takes practice he just doesn’t have. 

The three sets of parental eyebrows make a V, judgingly.

“One month of no video games or TV?” Okay, so terrible liar but quick on his feet. At least he knows when he’s beat and jumps straight to trying to shape his own punishment proactively.

“Two months. And no flying lessons either,” Jean says. “And don’t pout at me, young man. You know the rules. No weapons inside the house unless your grandpa Corsair is visitng and we’re too tired to fight him on keeping knives under his pillow. This is a Do As We Say, Not As We Do house. Deal with it. Now, this is going with the others and you can have it back when you’re eighteen.”

It would have been three months, but Jean and Maddy caught a telepathic sniff from Scott. He’s just so proud of his kid thinking so tactically. He’s growing up so fast. Both women mentally roll their eyes. Why is he like this.

“I don’t see what the big deal is anyway,” Nate sulks. “Its just a stupid laser gun. I mean, Uncle Gabe blew up our last house with his brain.” 

“Yes and it was an accident and he feels absolutely terrible about that which is why we’re not going to bring it up when he and Armando come visit this weekend, right?”

“You can have my full compliance for two weeks off my sentence.”

“Or we can have your full compliance or two weeks will be added to your sentence,” Maddy says.

“You guys suck,” declares the ten year old vessel of near unlimited psychic might. He goes to his room, stomping all the way up the stairs so his grievances can be heard even by the House of Snikt next door. Course, they’ve already been listening to the whole thing with their enhanced hearing. There was nothing good on TV. Jimmy made popcorn and chewed with his mouth open just to piss off Daken. 

‘The second Father leaves the room, I am going to stab you in such a slow healing place you’ll still be bleeding at bed time.’ Daken mouths at his little brother from another universe. Jimmy scrunches his face in confusion. 

‘What?’ He mouths back. He’s terrible at reading lips. Or anything that isn’t skateboarding, really. And yet Father’s so happy that ‘at least one of my kids is content with stupid normal stuff and doesn’t go around drawing cover fire just because a mission is going so well its boring and they haven’t even gotten to pop their claws out yet.’

“That’s only because you’ve coddled him. He’s barely ever even been shot at. Just the one time on vacation in Majipoor and he wasn’t even the target, the assassin was aiming for me. If you would just let me take him on a proper outing to gain some real experience - “

“Not gonna happen.” Logan shuts that down real quick.

“Really Father, just look at him. He has zero situational awareness. I’ve been glaring a hole in the back of his head for a full minute now and he has no idea. That could just as easily be an actual laser scope, you know. He’s a disgrace to the whole family.”

“Daken, we’ve been over this,” Logan says firmly. “You have your sisters to bond with over gratuitous violence. Leave your brother alone. I don’t want anyone traumatizing him until trauma finds him all on its own. It’ll happen sooner or later, he’s as much a part of this family as anyone and that means its as good as done already, so there’s no need to hurry it along. If later on he decides he’s got a taste for it, you can take him on all the outings to get shot at that you want. But he’s gotta figure it out for himself first, and he doesn’t need his big brother being the one who introduces him to all that. He idolizes you, you know.”

Daken scoffs. He can’t even get the brat to chew with his mouth closed.

“He cut his hair from that style he liked so much, just because you hated it so much,” Logan says obliviously. Daken nods like he’s conceding the argument and hastens from the room while he can still keep his mouth shut. It won’t benefit anyone at this point to tell their father that Jimmy really only cut his hair because Daken told him he would set it on fire if he didn’t. 

Ugh, families are the worst. Don’t even get him started on Laura stealing some of his clothes to wear without asking. And then has the gall to yell back at him when he yells “Silk! Its the finest cut of silk! Does that mean nothing to you?” at her.

“Oh get over it. Its not like I asked for killer robots to interrupt my date.”

“Of course they were going to interrupt your date with that Julian boy. I keep telling you, he’s a magnet for trouble. I can tell. I’m one too, remember?”

“Fine, whatever, you’re right and I should just expect every date with Julian from now until the end of time to end with fire and disaster.”

“Well now you’re being melodramatic. There’s no way that boy makes it past twenty five. He doesn’t even have a healing factor.”

“Why do you hate him so much anyway? If you’d just give him a chance - “

“What are you talking about? I give him a chance every single time he’s here and I don’t kill him.”

“Ugh, I can’t even talk to you when you’re like this. You always do this, you just decide on something and then you commit to that like the fate of the world depends on you standing firm on what’s usually a completely arbitrary decision in the first place!”

Daken sniffs. “I can assure you, there’s absolutely nothing arbitrary about my disdain for the Keller boy.”

“His name is Julian,” Laura enunciates with a glare.

“I don’t care,” Daken enunciates with an expression of lofty superiority.

“You two are so dumb,” Gabby says from the end of the hallway. They both turn identical glares on her. They’d noticed her arrive several minutes ago but they weren’t about to be distracted from their battle of wills. “Laura, you know Daken isn’t actually going to kill Julian. He doesn’t do that anymore except for really bad people sometimes and he just talks about stabbing people or killing them cuz he thinks he’s funny and then he gets all pissy because nobody ever gets that he doesn’t really mean it. He doesn’t even hate Julian and he used to be fine with him before he started dating you, its just he doesn’t think he’s good enough for you.”

Daken frowns at the petite would-be peacemaker. Meddlesome toddler. “What are you even babbling about? None of that is remotely true.”

Gabby rolls her eyes up at her brother from her much lower height. She taps the side of her nose with emphasis. “You do know we all have the same abilities to smell and analyze scents as you do, right? And you know everything you can tell from peoples’ scent, right? Of course I’m right, I can smell it as clear as anything and so can Jimmy and Dad and we actually all know this and talk about it all the time, and its why Dad never actually gets mad at you for talking about killing people because he can smell you’re saying it just cuz you’re used to saying it but really you’re too marshmallowy on the inside now to do half the stuff you claim you’re gonna do. Hate to break it to you bro, but you’re a closet softie and you’ve been made. The nose doesn’t lie. Only reason Laura doesn’t know it is because you piss her off like its your favorite hobby and its probably impossible for her to smell anything beyond her own scent of Royally Pissed Off.”

Ugh. Meddlesome insightful toddler. Who asked for her intervention anyway? Daken crosses his arms in a way that’s decidedly aloof and not at all sulking.

Laura’s staring at their sister assessingly. “That’s really what you think is going on? And Jimmy and Dad think so too? You’re not just saying all that?”

Gabby bats her eyes up at them. “Would I lie to you?”

“Yes,” Laura says without missing a beat.

“Without a shadow of a doubt,” Daken says dryly, right on her heels.

“For the sake of a candy bar,” Laura adds, because that really did happen.

“Or just boredom, because god forbid you pick up another hobby that isn’t just Chaos.”

“This from the guy who only has fun when there’s blood and bullets flying about,” Gabby fires back from a position of petite petulance.

Daken smirks down at her. “Didn’t you just say I don’t really mean it when I say all of that?”

Gabby narrows her eyes. “Touché. My own words thrown back at me. I am undone.”

“Yes, well - “

Daken’s cut off as Jimmy chooses that moment to walk past them down the hallway to the bathroom. He’s laughing and shaking his head.

“You guys are both so dumb. She plays you like this all the time, and you never see it.”

“Silence, mortal!” Gabby thunders at their brother menacingly. The effect is somewhat diminished by the fact that she can’t hit a baritone note to save her life.

“No, I’m interested in hearing what he has to say,” Daken says coolly. “For once. This is a moment without precedent and one unlikely to occur again, so let’s explore it a bit.”

Jimmy sighs and shakes his head without ever losing that amused smirk. “Had to tack on that last part, didn’t you. Just couldn’t help yourself.”

“I am a faithful student of the Truth,” Daken says, matching his brother smirk for smirk.

“The point, Jimmy?” Laura prods aggressively before that can erupt into a wholly separate thing she wants no part of.

“Oh, right.” He shrugs nonchalantly. “Its kinda her thing with you two when you get like this. You pick a fight with Laura, Laura gets pissed off and succumbs to the family curse of Tunnel Vision at the Worst Possible Time, and you both go back and forth endlessly and like you have all the time in the world for your stupid tete a tete, because on account of you both being practically unkillable and immortal, you kinda do and you know it. And then whenever she gets bored of listening to you two, Gabby swoops in and draws both of your attention until you’re both so focused on being annoyed with her you don’t even realize you’re actually side by side agreeing with each other, and she keeps it up just long enough til she’s sure she can just say she’s bored now and just leave the room, leaving you both annoyed and frustrated by a fight you can’t even claim to have won because she really just kinda...left, in the middle of it, and you’re so focused on that, you’ve totally forgotten to be pissed at each other. And by the time you do remember, like, the moment has passed and peace has been returned to the kingdom. Or at least as peaceful as this place ever gets.”

Daken stares at his mistake of a brother in the hopes that if he stalled long enough, his senses would arrive at a different conclusion. But nope. Scents don’t lie, unlike baby sis, apparently. He’s telling the truth. And Daken really does not....care for that conclusion.

Gabby stamps her foot and glares up at their brother.

“You are such a tattletale. I am providing a service, by keeping this family free of these two constantly at each others throats, and how is that service repaid? With betrayal! I hate you, you’re dead to me. Never speak to me again or at least not until I’ve stopped being mad at you, but that could be like ten years or something, I don’t even know right now.”

She draws up to her full height and squares her shoulders as she thunders this Mighty Mouse style at the still laughing Jimmy. Then, seeing she’d yet to make a dent in his armor of amusement and he was failing to take her pronouncement seriously, she punctuated her declaration by spitting on their brother’s shoe. Daken’s eyebrows shoot up again, this time in amusement of his own. Gabby then spins around on her heel and stalks off down the hallway, muttering more dire threats under her breath as she goes, the sound of them nonetheless carrying clearly to three siblings with enhanced hearing of their own. And apparently, little sis could be quite creative. Who knew she’d been hiding such talent?

Jimmy barely even notices; he’s still staring down at his shoe.

“Dude, you spit on me! That’s so not cool.”

“Some things need to be expressed so strongly, mere words will not suffice,” Daken says loftily, savoring a slightly renewed sense of superiority.

One quickly dashed, of course, because apparently he just can’t have anything.

“Bold words from the seventy year old who needed the sixteen year old to clue him in he’s being regularly manipulated by the twelve year old,” Jimmy fires back. As a return volley, its obnoxiously effective, and Daken’s still grinding his teeth and searching for an adequate rejoinder as Jimmy just grins even wider and then strolls off down the hallway as well. Whistling either an absolutely hideous song or else proof that he’s absolutely hideous at whistling. Tough call. With him it could be either.

Daken and Laura both stare after him in silence as he rounds the corner and disappears, leaving only the lingering scent of smugness in his wake. Daken hates the scent of smugness. It has a particularly....cloying feel to it. Well not his of course. But everyone else’s, especially little brothers? Acrid is the only word adequate for that.

“Sometimes I really do want to stab him. Just a little bit. And I’m not even lying,” Daken says. Laura just nods, her own nose scrunched up in distaste as well.

“Honestly? Me too.”

Brother and sister enjoy the rare moment of solidarity.

“You know what’s really bugging me?” Laura says suddenly, still staring off down the hallway. Daken turns an inquiring eye on her, prompting elucidation. She frowns.

“Where the hell did he learn a phrase like tete a tete? I mean. Its Jimmy.”

Daken does know what she means, and frowns as the nagging awareness of that leaps from his sister to himself like memetic chain lightning.

“And he used it correctly. That’s....unexpected.”

“Sometimes I wonder if maybe he’s not as completely airheaded as he pretends, and the fact that he’s got everyone so convinced of that actually means he’s running circles around the rest of us,” Laura says. She shrugs. “Of course, then I have to question everything and who has that kind of time and also the very idea of genius mastermind Jimmy disturbs me on a deeply visceral level. So then I just. Stop doing that.”

Daken nods and sighs. “Sometimes, that’s all you can do.”

“Okay, this is annoying. I kinda still want to fight, but now fighting with you feels kinda anticlimactic. Ugh, siblings are the worst,” Laura declares with a glower. “They ruin everything.”

“On that, we can agree. With allowances for temporary occasions of some of them being bearable,” Daken says. “Some.”

“That’s the nicest thing you’ve never said to me, big brother,” Laura says lightly. Daken swiftly scowls but she holds up a hand to forestall any rebuttal. “Sorry, don’t mean to ruin the moment. I’m thinking about how else we can put all that frustrated energy to good use. Wanna go pick a fight with the Summers’ kids?”

A slow smile spreads across Daken’s face. “Well now. Finally, a family outing I can get behind. I believe that’s precisely what we need right now. Care to lead the way?”

He still hates her boyfriend, of course, but he supposes he can let that be. 

For now, at least.

[blookmallow]

uhHH well i finished rusty lake roots... there are still many things i do not understand but wow that sure was. a lot 

-----

oh. ohhhh i was right 

albert did get into voodoo

i mean really if you have enough blood to write a sentence with it i think thats more of a “there is blood” scenario but i guess that’s just semantics really 

anyway uhhHHh that happened,

oH god what the fuck ok apparently mary’s dead now too

i dont know what killed her other than like, old age, maybe. shock?? could’ve been a heart attack if she. saw what albert did to his brother and ida 

:( 

the kid with the glasses Was emma’s son and she Did commit suicide in her grief when he went missing 

still dont know where he came from in the first place but nevermind 

what the hell kind of egg is that (the second thing. the first thing is a potato) 

oh

it’s. it’s that kind of egg, isn’t it. 

is that what that looks like???? i was under the impression human “eggs” are like, microscopic, like you can’t visually see individual sperm cells and i couldn’t really find a clear answer trying to look this up and got kinda freaked out about it anyway (pregnancy/uterus functions fuck me up sdfgggh) but 

APPARENTLY, AFTER MURDERING HER (AND HIS BROTHER) ALBERT HAS DECIDED TO HARVEST IDA’S EGGS FROM HER BODY AND CREATE HIS OWN FETUS SOMEHOW HIMSELF 

I DONT THINK THATS HOW THAT WORKS BUT UH. ALBERT???? WE NEED TO TALK 

god fucking damn it i liked him so much and wanted to understand him and i still think it’s heavily implied he was abused and/or bullied by his siblings and he’s definitely mentally unwell and definitely had some kind of rivalry going on with samuel, definite “wants what he has” situation but 

i guess “murdered his brother and his wife, apparently harvested eggs from her corpse to Make A Child With Her after she rejected him” is uuhhhh not really redeemable is it :’   ) god 

or im not sure if she actually rejected him or if he ever made any advances on her in the first place but. definite “she belonged to me/should have been Mine” possessive behavior ramped up to 11 

i still think he needed Help and maybe wouldn’t have turned out like this if he got help and had support from his family but my god what a. series of events that was  

also this guy keeps showing up everywhere. i dont know what he is but i like him even though he may be some kind of shadow of impending doom or a personification of death 

BIG fan of the implication here that i may in fact have been a ghost the whole time, subtly influencing the events of my own family destruction in an effort to sacrifice them all to resurrect myself 

is that what all this is. did all this happen because william was haunting everybody trying to get the pieces to revive himself. was this man willing to destroy his entire family line for the chance to live again 

oh FUCK THE KID’S STILL ALIVE 

HE DIDN’T DIE IN THE WELL HE’S JUST BEEN LIVING DOWN THERE THIS WHOLE TIME. OK

how did nobody hear him calling for help or anything... 

guess what

i fucking killed the hand again 

apparently albert also knows about this??? and never told anyone??? fucking why??????? he doesn’t seem to be Using the dude for anything, there doesn’t seem to be any reason to keep him down here unless it’s just some fucked up revenge thing on his sister 

also i dont think it was albert’s hand that i stabbed Again bc he’s not bleeding when he shows up but 

is he the one who has been keeping him alive?? why. what purpose is served in keeping him alive if he’s not using him for anything. if hes just trying to get back at his sister why not just kill the guy or leave him to starve down here. Albert What The Fuck Are You Doing 

hey buddy!!!!! its u!!!!

i was wrong it seems like mr. crow is not a voodoo curse victim but is actually probably the first vanderboom brother. the not william one. i forgot his name :’) and i still definitely think william’s going to become mr. owl

i found this picture later (it was shown before but i didnt remember) (also has. puzzle stuff on it but anyway) its definitely the same suit thats it isnt it 

i dont want to go searching for the pic of the other brother and the one of mr owl bc ill probably just find spoilers if i do that but Hm. hmm.

is this how the revival ritual works. do u become a bird. is that why everyone else at the hotel was animals too

that would mean the brothers have already done the ritual once though and would’ve needed a bunch of sacrifices to do it before so maybe not 

albert’s bizarre science experiment child seems to be living at the house now, which i was gonna say “how the fuck did he explain this to his family how is she just Here Now” but then i realized i think she and albert might be the only ones left now 

ida and samuel are dead, emma is dead, mary and james are dead, leonard isn’t dead but i think he might be... out fighting the war at this point 

also that dog is still here and i didnt previously question why the cup was called “cup with liquid” and not “water” and i really, really wish i didnt know the answer to that mystery 

try to guess how this dog provided liquid. the answer is not blood 

rose helped frank get out of the well, not sure if she knew why he was down there in the first place or that he’s her cousin, and. well 

:( 

sorry things had to be this way, bud

digs up my entire family’s remains to make one hell frankenstein skeleton

sure 

o fuck i did it i got all the things

i like how some of these are like “gouge out an eyeball” and then there’s like “cut off some hair” 

some of this family suffered more than others for this ritual, shall we say

theres probably Reasons for each of the parts though like, frank’s hair grew super long from his years in the well, so while the removal of a lock of hair itself wasn’t really a Sacrifice/suffering on his end its symbolic of what he went through

william’s the one being revived so it makes sense to use his heart

eyes could be... Too Late To See The Truth about albert or something, ida was a fortune teller so, Inner Sight or w/e, also a pair of eyes taken from a couple

emma died from her grief so we have her tears

james... died from drinking the elixir? so indirectly his tongue could symbolize that?? i guess???

rose means red, she was born through murder, she got her bio mother’s red hair, we have her blood 

albert could be seen as a mastermind behind a lot of these events, and a lot of this was caused by the mental illness he never got help for, so we have his brain

leonard lost his foot in the war

the only one i cant figure out is mary’s teeth, i have no idea what that one could mean unless she Did die of old age and “teeth falling out” is meant to symbolize that

theres.... three teeth and she had three children? i have no idea 

anyway DONT LIKE THAT AT ALL 

hm. unpleasant 

the other brother Confirmed to be mr. crow but its still possible mr. owl is Not in fact william but he could be talking about future william when he Becomes mr. owl, maybe 

this is such a mess ok so william was reborn as a baby, the grandchildren looked like they were consumed by the roots but we see rose holding the baby so at least she’s still alive (and probably the boys too if she is) 

and this process also created the seed which planted the tree so... william’s death and subsequent rebirth also created the family tree?? i guess?? so his family was brought to ruin one by one possibly through him influencing events from beyond the grave, all to revive him, which started the family in the first place, and there’s definitely a lot of... “all time is one/timelines can be altered” not direct Time Travel but just sort of. time as a nonlinear web that the original vanderboom brothers seem able to transcend 

hm! hm. theres still. so much i dont understand but i have at least one more game left im not sure if the other things in the bundle are related to rusty lake or just other things by the same developers