#hopefully this will help other folks feel less confused than i was

[just-late-roman-republic-things]

How was voting done in ancient rome?

Anon...you sent me down a whole rabbit-hole...and I'm still not quite sure I understand it all. But here's how I think it worked, and I welcome any corrections from folks who know more.

Rome's voting system changed a lot over the years. We have the most information about the late republic, so let's focus on that:

(I've left out the Curiate Assembly, which was mostly irrelevant at this point, and some other fiddly bits.)

Tribes and Centuries

If you were a Roman voter, you would be part of both a tribe and a century. Your tribe roughly meant which "region" your vote was associated with, though by the late republic people had moved around so much that didn't really mean anything. Your century was assigned by censors based on your wealth status. Only male citizens could vote, not women, slaves or non-Roman residents.

When you voted, the majority of your tribe or century's votes would all be counted as one vote in the election. If 60% of your tribe voted for Lucius Tiddlypuss, but you were one of the 40% who voted for Gnaeus Nautilus, tough shit. Tiddlypuss gets one vote counted and Nautilus gets nada.

To make things worse, not all tribes or centuries were equally powerful. The wealthiest centuries (equestrians and "first class enlisted") were much smaller than the poor and working-class centuries, so rich people's individual votes counted for more. And they got to vote first, and the election was over as soon as a candidate reached a majority of total votes, so poor centuries often didn't get to vote at all.

The tribal voting system was a little more fair. Its voting order was randomized. But since all elections took place in Rome, the rural voters who could make it were usually small in number - and rich enough to travel. So rural tribes were disproportionately powerful. Plus, the tribes were of different sizes again, so (for instance) freedmen's votes could be "diluted" by concentrating them in a few big urban tribes. Still, the tribal system was seen as more representative of the lower classes in practice.

On the upside, by this era, elections and plebiscites had written ballots that you could cast secretly. This reduced the power of patrons over their clients, and masters over freedmen.

Voting for People

To elect higher magistrates, like consuls, censors and praetors, you have to gather with your century in the Centuriate Assembly outside the city walls. Why? Because the Centuriate Assembly is technically based on soldier ranks, classed by how much gear each soldier could afford, and you can't be within Rome's city limit while in military formation. The tops "enlisted"-level centuries vote first, each century's vote counts for 1, then the equestrians vote in their groups, and so on until a candidate reaches over 50% of the total possible votes.

(Note: Cicero refers to 193 centuries, so most scholars believe that was the number in his lifetime. But not everyone agrees, and the Centuriate Assembly seems to have been reorganized a few times.)

Now let's vote for lower offices, like curule aediles, quaestors and military tribunes. The pontifices are also elected here. You can go back inside Rome's walls now, because the Tribal Assembly sorts voters into tribes, not military ranks. The order in which the tribes vote is randomized (in theory). If you're voting for a pontifex, only 17 random tribes out of 35 get to vote. Or, if you're living between 81 and 63 BCE, you don't get to vote for pontifices at all. Blame Sulla for that.

Finally, we'll vote in the tribunes of the plebs and plebeian aediles. If you're one of the 90%+ of Romans who are plebeian, you'll vote in the Plebeian Council, which works just like the Tribal Assembly except that there's a big "No patricians allowed!!" sign. Only plebs can vote, and only plebs can run for these offices!

Or at least, that's how most historians think it worked. It's not actually clear if the Plebeian Council was another name for the Tribal Assembly, a separate entity, or merged into it at some point. So whenever I say "Plebeian Council," put a mental asterisk after it.

Once someone is elected as a quaestor, tribune of the plebs, or a higher rank, he stays in the Senate for life unless the censors kick him out or a trial strips him of office. This year's consuls and praetors will become next year's proconsuls and propraetors, who govern provinces and sometimes take on other special assignments. Pontifices also hold their priesthoods for life, and can take on other jobs, too.

Voting for Laws

We've elected our dudes! Can you go home? Nope! Rome also has a lot of plebiscites, or referendums.

Most laws came from the Senate. The Senate voted on a bill, usually proposed by a consul, and if a majority of Senators approved the bill would go to the Plebeian Council. Most of the time, the Plebeian Assembly approved the bill, and it became law. But sometimes it refused, and the bill would either die, or have to be revised in the Senate before the Council would vote on it again.

Occasionally a tribune of the plebs would propose a bill directly to the Plebeian Council, without getting Senate approval first. Or, more rarely, a higher magistrate might. This was a great way to piss off the Senate! However, if the bill passed, the Senate had to abide by it anyway.

Changes to the System

Even just in the 54-year period I chose, the rules shifted sometimes. The biggest change was Sulla's constitutional reform, in which:

Tribunes of the plebs could no longer propose legislation or hold higher offices.

Thus, nearly all legislation came from the Senate instead of the Plebeian Council.

Pontifices were chosen by other pontifices, no longer elected.

The number of magistracies and overall size of the Senate was expanded.

Holding a magistracy of quaestor-level or higher automatically enrolled its holder in the Senate; before, that had to be ratified by the censors.

And more details, not related to elections and plebiscites, that I won't go into here.

Some of these changes were rolled back after Sulla's death. Tribunes were restored to their full powers by 70 BCE, and pontifices became publicly elected again from 63 onward.

Rome's last fully "free" elections took place in 50 BCE. After that, Caesar's civil war and dictatorship, his habit of appointing his supporters to government offices, and even more civil wars all fouled everything up. Augustus restored regular elections, but didn't step down, so they became little more than a popularity contest with no real power.

If you rewind back in time, you'll see other changes, too. Before 104 BCE, pontifices were chosen by other pontifices, just like Sulla preferred. Before 219, the Plebeian Council needed the Senate to ratify its laws, and before 287, its laws only applied to plebs. If you go way back to the 5th century, the Curiate Assembly I left out starts being relevant. There was a gradual shift toward the Plebeian Council gaining more power over time, and patrician-only offices gradually being opened to plebeians.

Once again, I'm not a historian, so please let me know if I got something wrong. Thank y'all for reading this long-ass post!

[novaonhere]

Buddy System

Relationship: Cal Kestis x f!reader

Summary: Cal wanted to go out on his own, but after not being by his side for quite some time, you bring up something you learned back at the Temple when you were just a youngling.

Word Count: 880

Warnings: Nah, sexy time proposed in a funny way

A/N: Bored at work so clearing through my drafts, here’s a quick blurb

Prompt: "Then why did you even come along?" "Because someone has to save your ass if this inevitably goes wrong."

(gif not mine)

————————————————————————

The crew, such to Cal’s disappointment, wanted to take a day break on Koboh at the cantina. After a few weeks hunting down bounty hunters, everyone was exhausted. Cal finally caved when you fell over after standing for a few minutes from pure exhaustion.

Cal was restless. He wanted to keep the go-go-go mentality, and keep hitting them when they thought they could take a breather. He wasn’t used to breaks; he was used to running, fighting, pushing through.

He sat outside the cantina, tinkering with his saber with BD-1 at his side. He watched the people come and go, wanting to follow one that started their journey outside the city. BD-1 tries to entertain him, chirping some songs that he picked up from Greez and yourself. It only worked for ten minutes.

You’ve kept an eye on Cal as soon as you landed. You knew he wouldn’t be able to sit in one spot for longer than a few hours. Staying aboard the Mantis, you used this time to lay on the boarding ramp, using the ship as shade to read a few books. Every so often, you peeled over your book to see if Cal was still there, which he was.

You got to a good part of the book and hyper focused for a bit too long. Finally, after you flipped to the next chapter, you peered over to see your boyfriend gone. Aw crap, there he goes. You should’ve done more to help him relax, but he’s an adult he can manage. Well, apparently not. Throwing your book inside, you hop to your feet and take a better look. There goes the red head, following a raider towards their base. Something’s up.

You manage to find a balance of quickly walking and slowly jogging to catch up and hopefully not be suspicious. Cal flicks his head back and notices you making your way up. He doesn’t make a face as you look your arm into his.

“I watched him leave someone’s home with that bag, I have a bad feeling. The owner of the house was also crying.” Cal whispers, pointing to the large bag that the raider had in his hand. You nod.

“Now or later?” You ask, Cal shaking his head.

“I want to see where he’s going, see if there’s more stuff they’ve stolen.” The raider turns around to see us, but we wave and continue walking past him, coming up with a story to seem less suspicious. You both walk slow, causing the raider to groan and bump through you too to continue on.

“Well I’m coming with, obviously.” You smile, using your free arm to pat his arm. Cal seems annoyed.

“No, today was your rest day.” He whisper argues with you, causing you to raise an eyebrow.

“And to you, and you know that we don’t like others dipping by themselves.” You roll your eyes. “Do you know remember what we learned at the Temple?” Cal blinks blankly, obviously confused.

“The buddy system?” You ask, Cal shaking his head. “Seriously? Damn, we didn’t like that lesson as much so I figured you didn’t like it as much.”

“If you don’t like the buddy system, then why did you even come along?” Cal grumbles, not wanting their cover to be blown. You could care less about the raider and trying to talk to your boyfriend.

"Because someone has to save your ass if this inevitably goes wrong." You scowl, just too loud. The raider finally turns around, shoving his weapon to your chin.

“We are out of town, what business do you folks have with my team?” He hisses as you throw your hands up.

“Sir, we were told to follow a raider heading out of town to pay someone back.” You explain, the raider slowly lowering his weapon.

“Who?”

“You all look the same.” You state blankly, Cal holding in a scoff of laughter. The raider doesn’t seem amused.

“I’m not going anywhere,” The raider stands facing you two, crossing his arms. “You’ll have to wait for the correct man.” You and Cal look at each other, coming to the same agreement. Cal flings into action, bashing the raider back with the butt of his saber. Stunned, the raider drops the bag, giving you time to grab it and run. Cal follows, leaving the raider gasping for breath, laying on the ground.

“When we return this, you are going to properly rest.” You shout at him as you both run into town.

“Oh yeah? How?” He scowls, catching up to you.

“You look pretty relaxed after an hour in the bedroom.” You smile, shocking Cal. He smiles widely like a happy boy on Christmas morning.

“Give me the bag, and meet me on the ship.” He exclaims, slowing down as you reach town. You both stop and you give him a quick peck on the cheek. He rushes into the house, startling the owner.

Giggling, you make your way towards the Mantis. Before you get too far, you feel a pair of hands snake around you, turning you around. Cal places a sweet kiss to your lips before throwing you over his shoulders. You shriek in delight as he takes off to the launch pad, a few passer byers giggling at your shenanigans.

[baubuttercup]

Mini Garcia pt1/ Spencer Reid

Summery: Y/N is the new Tech Analyst intern under her mentor Penelope Garcia and has just started her first day at the BAU. During a case Y/N get a few calls from a not so familiar boy genius who seeks her help...or does he seek more? 

Spencer Reid x Reader

Warning: Fluff/none 

A/N: This is the first of many stories i will be writing and i look forwarding to writing more. I haven’t fully edited it but hope you enjoy it :)

Please Interact for more Spencer Reid/ MGG fics!!

“you will be fine trust me, you are already a natural and thats coming from yours truly” you were so nervous because today was your first day working at the BAU as a Tech Analyst Intern. Penelope was the one who got you the job working along side her. She was your teacher, mentor, and even your close friend and you knew working with her would be nothing less than entertaining. “P what if they don’t like me or I don’t fit into their group, you told me that they were like family” you followed the women wearing a floral dress with glittery high heel through the halls of the FBI coming to a stop next to two glass doors. “Y/N before we go in you are going to take three deep breathes and snap the hell out of it, cause you my little prized protege, will fit in just fine, so stop over thinking and pull yourself together”. I inhale three breathes before she pulled the glass door opened guiding me into a large room which from memory i think she had called it the “Bullpen”.  As we walked in i noticed in the corner of my eyes a man and a women eyeing me up and down. The man was large and muscled, he was appealing to the eye, just not preferably my type “Babygirl who is this fine little thin-” Penelope put her hand out barricading me from the man “cool it hot cakes, she is pure” I chuckled under my breath at her immediate response “This Derek chocolate thunder Morgan is the new Intern, working beside me as i mentor her into become the next best Garcia, Y/n meet Derek Morgan” we both extend our hands to go in for a friendly handshake “Oh and this fine ass piece of women is Jennifer Jareau” I smile shaking the pretty blondes hand “JJ for short its lovely to meet you” she hesitated for a moment before continuing “You seem so young, if you don’t mind me asking how old you are” I nervously try not to stutter upon my words “Oh um-m yeah i’m 20, but I got into the early acceptance program for computer programming and coding at Georgetown and now i’m here” Derek and JJ both exchange stairs before Derek opens his mouth “you, princess should meet our resident genius, i’m sure you two would get along quite well” JJ chuckles before giving Derek a smirk “OH YES how could I have forgotten about boy genius, where is he by the way” A tall dark haired man and a slightly shorter Italian looking man appeared from behind us “Reid and Prentiss are at a conference they will be meeting us in San Francisco” He looked intently at the group surrounding me then turned to look at me “You must be Y/N L/N, i’m Aaron Hotchner but please call me Hotch, and this is David Rossi, we are happy to have you on board, Garcia has spoken very highly of you” both men shake my hand firmly “I’m glad to be on board sir and thank you for this amazing opportunity” Hotch goes to say something before he was cut off by a text message appearing on his phone. “Wheels us now, they need us down their asap, Garcia brief us on the plane” and with that they were all making their way to the elevator. “Come on little Einstein we have work to do”

--

Garcia had just finished briefing the team on the case they were assigned to. From what i could catch it was about a Zodiac killer who had been killing over a decade ago and has recently just started up again. I tried to listen in and take note on everything Garcia was doing because god knows this job is fast past and i don’t want to fall behind on my first day. I found myself continuously zoning out thinking back to what that Morgan guy said about a “resident genius”. Who was he and why was Morgan so sure we would get along. So many questions were crossing my mind, before i heard Garcia’s voice continuously saying “Earth to my little oracle, hello, Y/N come back down to earth little one” i snap back to reality seeing Garcia waving her hand in front of of me “oh sorry- P who was that resident genius Morgan spoke about earlier” she spun in her chair making eye contact with me smirking “Oh my god yes Reid, how could i forget again. So you didn’t meet Emily Prentiss she is a total kick ass babe who is super cool and Spencer Reid who is a total genius with an eidetic memory and a whopping I.Q of 187″ i began to open my mouth to say something when Garcia interrupted “you guys would totally be so cute together, i need to set you two up, it would be a match made in heaven” I blush, a little taken back by the abrupt comments made by Garcia who is now really cheery “P calm down i haven’t event met the guy and i think you are a little in over your head” she looks at me still smirking “you are already intrigued by him aren’t you” just as i was about to stop her, the computer phone began to ring and the caller I.D was most clearly someone i didn’t even know yet but for some reason already was under affect by “ANSWER IT” Garcia motioned to the headset on my head “no i don’t even know what to say” she pointed at me with her fluffy unicorn pen “answer the phone i trained you for this” I reluctantly answered and within seconds i was met with a masculine yet soft voice on the other line “Hey Garcia I need you to track the ISP of the user who entered the spam comment to an internet cafe” I immediately got butterflies in my stomach, no stop Y/N you have never met this person and Garcia is just getting in your head, you continue to remind yourself. “U-mm i’m sorry I-I’m not Garcia i’m Y/N L/N the new Tech Analyst intern” I began to fidget with my figures staring between the plasma computer screens and Garcia “Oh Hi, I’m Reid, I mean I’m Spencer, let me start over I’m Dr Spencer Reid but you can call me Spencer or Reid, nice to meet you” my nerves begin to calm at the sound of his voice and the fact that he sounded just as nervous as me. I look to Garcia as she was smiling and motioning her hands to continue the conversation “Oh um-m sorry, you needed me to track the ISP of the user who entered the spam comment to an internet cafe...right?”I patiently await his response, which seemed like forever “Yeah, if you can do that, that would be great, thanks” I look to Garcia once again as she gives me a reassuring smile of encouragement before i turn to the monitors and type away, I remember everything Garcia taught me about the bureau system and was surprising easier to manoeuvre once actually assigned to a task “Hey um Reid, you still there?” thinking maybe he hung up “still here buttercup...um i mean Y/N” Garcia nudged me overhearing what Reid had just said and was cheering in the air, I quickly regained focus “so yeah unfortunately the unsub used a prepaid credit card, so I don’t have an I.D, i’m sorry” i felt my nerves regain their position in my stomach as i thought i didn’t do a good job “Thats okay, thanks for your help L/N and am excited to meet you in person, hopefully soon” I blush quickly at his comment, this going unnoticed by Garcia who is in her own world of happiness at the moment. “Yeah same goes for you, take care and if you need anything else you know where to find us” I end the call not wanting to make anymore of a fool of myself than i already have “BUTTERCUP, HE CALLED YOU BUTTERCUP” I groan at Garcia’s response already embarrassed by the ordeal “Y/N i know Reid and i have know him for many years, never in my time of being in boy geniuses presence have i ever heard him call someone BUTTERCUP” a million things swoop through my mind in that moment, why did he call me that, was it a fluke, was he just trying to be friendly, what am i saying i have literally never met this guys before its for sure nothing. I turn my head to Garcia giving her a please stop looking at me face, before she puts her hands up in defence” Okay okay i’ll stop, but you guys would make cute babies” she whispered the last part just loud enough for me to catch it. 

--

As time goes on I observe everything Garcia continues to do in order to find the details of the unsub. This job although seeming like fun is very high pressure and i made sure i noted down everything that Garcia done so i didn’t seem like the biggest failure in front of the team, or one team member in particular. The phone rang once again causing Garcia to answer it “He who seeks the queen of all knowledge, speak and be recognised” I chuckle under my breath at the witty response before i felt a tap on my shoulder “Pretty boy wants to speak with you” I give her a confused look “Boy genius, girly” I straighten up and answer my headset “Hello L/N speaking” i try to analyse why on earth he would want to speak with me and before he got a chance to answer a million conclusions were rushing through my mind “Hey L/N, long time no speak” there was a pause in the background before i heard a male chuckle and whisper “thats one way to get the girl Reid” he cleared his throat before continuing on “So i just thought i’d give you more training so can you run something for me” I physically prepare myself for what he is about to ask, ensuring i don’t screw this up “I need you to compile a list of people with I.Qs of 160 and above in the region” I type away trying to speed up so i don’t slow the team down “I’m checking with the bay area mensa society which is kind of slumming cause folks can get in with a measly I.Q of 130″ Reid chuckled at my statement making me feel more comfortable about what i was doing “try and check old school records, we’re looking for someone who is in his 20′s or 30′s” as I am intensely try my best to recover these names it appears in front of me “BINGO, Caleb Rossmore and Harvey Morell, they both have I.Qs over 160 and get this they both use to write about the Zodiac in their junior high school newspaper” I smile at myself, kinda proud at what i just accomplished on my own “thats amazing, thanks Y/N and tell Garcia she has the best intern” I smile to myself satisfied that i done something right and that Reid thought so too. “Yes that’s my little Einstein, ah you are moulding into a beautiful little Garcia, how proud i am right now

--

The team had just got back from catching both Caleb Rossmore and Harvey Morell and Garcia had gone to greet Morgan at the elevators. I had stayed behind packing my belonging as i was ready to head home to my fluffy dog Milo and sleep for hours. A knock on the door startled me. I abruptly turn around and was met with a tall figure who had beautiful brown eyes and shaggy hair. “Hi, I’m so sorry to have startled you, I’m Spencer Reid the one that kept annoying you on the phone” I feel my cheeks heat up from the sight of how pretty this boy was “um yes, i mean no you weren't annoying at all if anything you gave me the training i need, so i should be thanking you, and I’m Y/N L/N” Reid stuck out his hand which took me by surprise because according to Garcia he was not a handshaker and refused to shake hands with anyone, stating that even kissing was more sanitary “Well, in that case i’m glad to be of assistance and its nice to officially meet you Y/N” we stared in each others eyes for a few moments before we were met by Penelope and Morgan “Hey guys you have met, yay, okay now can we go this princess is getting bags under her eyes and those aren’t the kind of bags i want” we all laugh at Garcia’s remark as we start to head towards the elevator. “So I heard you went to Georgetown” i look up at the brunette boy who was gazing down at me “yeah, I actually graduated this year, which i’m kind of sad” “oh why’s that” I look straight into his eyes “I like educating myself, and expanding my field of study is something that i genuinely enjoy, so i’m kind of sad its over, but i’m looking at going for my PHD in Computer engineering” Reid looked me deeper in my eyes without saying anything, just then i heard a murmur “they will make such cute babies and i’m going to be the best godmother” and with that the elevator doors open and we all began to file in. 

I may have just met Spencer Reid but i have a feeling we are definitely going to be getting along. 

[imaginesandinserts]

Irreverent Pt. 60 - Epilogue

Title: Irreverent Pt. 60 - Epilogue

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader Rating: M Words: ~2K

Status: Complete

A/N: That’s all folks. Chapters 59 and 60 coming out together today.

For J - For being the reason I finish this. 

Irreverent Series Masterlist

Aaron's been seated in his new office for the past hour, going over the new certification and training requirements for the BAU with Dave. Technically, it should've been Prentiss he was meeting with, but she'd happily passed along that piece of her new responsibilities, stating that the grouchy old men would do a much better job at it than she ever could.

From across the way, he can see through the glass walls into his old office which Prentiss now occupies. Both Garcia and JJ are sat across from her, no doubt convening there before they all fly out for your bachelorette party. It was a bit unbelievable to think he was only a week away from officially marrying you.

That is, if you survived this weekend, as you'd commented apprehensively earlier that morning. You've been terrified about what Emily had planned, especially given how his bachelor party had gone a few weeks prior. Dave had lured him away with the promise of good steaks and cigars, and then ambushed him with private dancers. He'd even gone out of his way to find one that held an uncanny resemblance to you. John had been sure to give that one a wide berth, making a beeline for the other corner of the room and staunchly avoiding any sort of eye contact with Aaron, much to his amusement. The night had culminated in a panicked text from Aaron to you, begging to be rescued. You'd arrived – his knight in shining armor – and taken him, a terrified Reid who'd been on the phone texting his girlfriend half the night, and a reluctant John who had finally relaxed enough to enjoy the company of the other dancer when you'd arrived and fixed him with an unamused regard that had the poor guy following the rest of you out with quick goodbyes to Dave and Morgan.

"You talk to Morgan recently?" Dave asks idly, sifting through the files in search of the old requirements documentation.

"Yes, he seems to be liking the transition to the academy," Aaron remarks, flipping through the file in front of him in search of the same. "We grabbed lunch last week when I did the Profiling and Prosecution seminar."

Dave smiles with a contemplative nod, and Aaron can only imagine what was going through his friend's head. Things were changing around them slowly – you'd left the team and had built your own, Prentiss was running the BAU, Morgan had retired to spend more time with his wife and soon to arrive son. Aaron himself had taken on the mantle of Section Chief, a role to which he was taking to far better than previously anticipated. Though, he supposed it helped that this time, he was only doing the Section Chief job and not also running the BAU.

It had been the right decision – for him, for you, for Jack. Both of you were home for dinner more nights than not. The three of you had settled into a routine that felt comfortable, and while he missed being directly in the field, he could see the change in him, his body. At his last doctor's visit, Dr. Robbins had commented that his stress levels appeared to be lowered and having a job that wasn't quite so hard on his body was a great help in that.

John was over every few weekends, very much a part of that routine you'd created, and the three of you had flown to New York a handful of times as well, taking Jack to a Yankees game (which he enjoyed thoroughly) and taking him on the subway (which he didn't care for). Dave had asked him half a dozen times, how he felt about John's presence in your lives. Aaron was incredibly alright with it – he hadn't been the only one who thought he'd lost you.

If he was being truly honest with himself, he was far more comfortable with John than he'd ever allowed himself to be around anyone that wasn't you or Haley. He's had time to think about it, about why that was the case. He figures it's because John is possibly the only other person in the world who understands the importance of you, the impact of you. For Aaron, in many ways, John also felt like an extension of you. The same biting humor, the forced humbleness – the way neither one of you could see anything wrong with spoiling Jack entirely.

Aaron could still easily recall the day he'd made an offhand remark about him not wanting Jack to grow up with a silver spoon in his mouth. John had grown quiet, eyes fixed towards where you were finishing making lunch. Jack was sat on the countertop, mixing together a bowl of cookie dough for you, to be baked for after lunch. Aaron had followed his gaze, his heart warming gently at the sight. It was so familiar, Jack always loved helping you in the kitchen. Aaron's mouth involuntarily turns into a smile as you laugh at something Jack had said, your head falling back easily, the musical notes of your laughter making the room feel brighter.

When John had turned back, he had a far away look in his eyes. "You're right," he'd said, clearing his throat, his voice a little heavier than before. "At the end of the day you want to be sure of only one thing – that he feels immensely loved. Because kids who aren't fed love by a silver spoon, they tend to lick it off of knives."

Aaron knew, without being told, that John was referring to Julian. He found himself incredibly grateful that his son got to be fed by you, wielding a platinum spoon. With John in your lives, that love in Jack's life only increased.

*------------*

You stood at the door of Aaron's office, having walked down from your own, on the way to Emily's so that you and the girls could fly off to a weekend of controlled (hopefully) fun. Who were you kidding? Emily Prentiss was in charge of your bachelorette party. You'd be lucky if you made it back in time to meet Aaron at the altar.

It takes a few seconds for them to notice your presence. A few seconds during which you get to admire the late afternoon sun hitting Aaron's frame just right, the golden hues turning his hair a lighter brown – it made him seem younger than his age, and the white flecks (which he blamed almost entirely on you and your disappearance) would suggest. The pronounced furrowed brow that seemed to be a permanent fixture for him while he was in the office, the warm eyes turned seriously down towards the papers in front of him, the pink lips that had spent a fair amount of time between your legs the night prior, causing you to shatter around him. That had resulted in John making a few crude remarks at breakfast that morning, which thankfully flew over Jack's head. Your son was far too excited to have an entire weekend with just his dad and favorite Uncle for a "Boys Only Weekend" to make up for you missing his soccer game on Saturday.

Aaron shifts, noticing your presence, head tilting up and eyes meeting your own. At the sight of you, they imbue warmth and familiarity, sparkling against the reflected sunlight. You're struck for a moment. Your husband-to-be was remarkably beautiful.

"Hey, how's it going?" You smile at both Aaron and Dave, entering quickly to meet Aaron on his side of the desk. Both of them turn to look at you.

"You still have no idea where Emily is taking you?" Rossi's face betrays his glee at your misfortune. He's been cross with you ever since you kidnapped Aaron from his own bachelor party. In your defense, the man had practically begged you to.

"No, she won't tell me." You sigh, your voice coming out almost in a whine.

Rossi's lip twitches, though he does a good enough job at not laughing outright.

You perched on the arm of Aaron's chair, placing a quick kiss to his cheek. "Harvey sent these over," you tell him, placing the envelope you had been carrying on his desk, your hand returning to play with the ring on your finger around as you were prone to do nowadays. "Would you please sign them and make sure they get to his office before Monday? He wants them finalized before the wedding."

Aaron nods, noting how your delicate fingers caress the stone of the ring that's sat on your hand and made him – quite literally – the luckiest man alive.

He's been expecting some paperwork coming his way in light of your upcoming ceremony. He'd lightly brought up the idea of a pre-nuptial agreement with you early on – for your sake – and had been laughed out of the room. You did however, feel it necessary to make him aware of exactly what assets he'd have access to, and thus your lawyer had been busy creating a summary for him to look over and acknowledge. Apparently, it had taken a full staff to do the entire work up, over the course of a month. If the thud the envelope had made when you'd set on his desk was any indication, he was in for a long night of reading.

"Alright, I should go." You heave off of his chair and the two of you look at each other and then Rossi, who takes a hint and looks away, leaving you to bend down and capture his lips against yours. You feel his arm winding around your waist and tightening into your side briefly, before you withdraw, your tongue peaking out to lick your lips. Aaron looks just barely flushed as Rossi turns back, his lips twitching in amusement as you fix yourself and take your leave.

*------------*

The door closes behind you, Aaron's eyes following your walk across the floor towards Emily's office.

"Is that what I think it is?" Dave asks, drawing his attention back to the envelope you'd dropped off for him. There's something oddly familiar about this – the two of them in his office, an envelope related to you dropped off at his desk. Though this time, under far less confusing and much happier conditions.

Aaron nods, doing his best to hide the smile threatening to break through at his friend's curiosity. Ever since New York, Dave had been very interested in learning exactly how much richer than him you were.

Reaching for the envelope, Aaron opens it up and withdraws the large stack of papers, and flips to the first page. Disclosure of Assets – the name of the document hardly did justice to the summary that followed. Properties across the U.S., Europe, South America, and the Caymans. A plethora of divided up Swiss bank accounts, each with a balance more staggering than the last. A stock portfolio rivaling Buffets. The number at the bottom of the page takes his breath away entirely.

Aaron turns once more to look towards his old office – he can see you gathered there with the rest of the girls, laughing about something. Given the piece of paper in his hand, he has to hand it to you in that moment. You lived far below your means. To think that someone your age had access to that kind of money – that kind of freedom – and still chose to do what you did. He didn't think there were many others who would.

Before Aaron can react, Dave has reached across the table and yanked the piece of paper right out of his hands.

The noise of complete shock that leaves his friend's body was not one that Aaron was likely to forget anytime soon. He watches as Dave reads the same summary he just had, his eyebrows moving further and further into his hairline as he goes down the page.

When he finally looks back at Aaron it's with a look that couldn't quite be described – surprise, awe, a hint of envy. Aaron can viscerally see the same thought he had moments ago regarding you and your work at the Bureau flit through Dave's head as he too turns to assess you across the floor.

Quietly, he hands the documents back to Aaron. Shifting in his chair, Dave clears his throat. "You do know that you're going to be picking up the tab every time now, right?"

Aaron chuckles, nodding. He'd assumed as much.

He turns back to you, only to catch you looking towards him as well through the glass walls. Your mouth turns up into a smile as your eyes meet his. Eyes like the sunrise colliding with his, causing his stomach to flip in that torturously delicious manner that only you seem to invoke. Eyes that meet his and stay. Eyes that have followed him, mirrored his, since the moment the two of you met. Eyes that betrayed you both when you looked at one another, the sheer intensity of the emotion behind them giving you away entirely. It didn't matter what distance, what time, what circumstance separated you from one another – somehow his eyes knew to always find their companion in yours.

Aaron might have fallen first, but he is forever grateful that you'd followed.

[doctenwho]

Parental Demeaning

Hello! Thank you for the request! I loved the idea of this, but I wasn’t too sure how to go about it. I only really have my parents to go off (they’re not at all like the ones written) but it’s hard to put myself in the mindset of it without context (and since parents are all drastically different), but I tried and hopefully it’s alright!

I had to read a couple articles to find some lowkey emotionally abusive things, and I tried to put as many as would fit, but still make sense in the fic. Anyways, I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Emotional/ Verbal Abuse.

Word Count: 4,230

Summary: Up in the prompt! :)

(Gif doesn’t belong to me, credit to creator!)

It really wasn’t often you got to go home and see your family and friends. As much as you loved them, there was just better things to see and do in space with the Doctor. It was no one’s fault, the Doctor would bring you to earth whenever you asked, but you just got so caught up in the Doctor and other planets and adventures.

It also didn’t really help that you basically lost all concepts of days and times when you were in the TARDIS. Without the sun rising in the morning and setting at night, you couldn’t be bothered with remembering whether it was day or night, or October or December. It was just then, or rather, now.

And even after all his years travelling, the Doctor was really no better when it came to times or days or months—but he usually got the year right when you asked. To be fair though, earth timelines really had no significance to him—it wasn’t like he’d have an angry mother if he missed Christmas or her birthday or something.  

You on the other hand... you were just thankful the Doctor had mentioned the current date on earth because if you missed your mother’s birthday there would definitely be hell to pay. It really was a coincidence that the Doctor happened to prompt a visit to your home planet the evening before your mom’s birthday.  

It would’ve been bad had you shown up months later having missed her birthday and not even rung her to wish her a happy birthday. She’d probably hold that over your head for years and years to come if that happened.

But you were saved before you could get yourself in trouble. The Doctor was basically your guardian angel at this point.  

So, that following afternoon the Doctor had landed the TARDIS a street over from your parent’s house so they wouldn’t see you exiting and entering a police box like a lunatic with a man they’d only really met in passing.  

“Come on,” you huffed, standing by the TARDIS door with your arms crossed over your chest and a pout on your lips, “I don’t want to go alone.”

“They’re your parents,” the Doctor raised an eyebrow, but he was smiling teasingly, “your parents, your planet. I should stay out of it. Besides, your mother barely knows me, I’d ruin the day.”

“You wouldn’t and you know it,” you sighed dramatically resisting the urge to smile at the glance the Doctor shot in your direction, “you’re going to make me suffer through all the questions they’ll ask that I have no answers too alone? They’ll want to talk about my work—which I don’t have, then they’ll ask how I support myself with that same job I don’t have!”

“Well, aren’t you a dramatic one today,” again with the teasing from the Doctor, “fine, fine. I’ll tag along. But, it’s not my fault if it upsets your mother on her birthday.”

“No, it’ll be my fault,” you smiled brightly, “they’re always telling me I need to get a boyfriend anyways; she’ll probably be ecstatic when I bring home a Doctor.”

“I don’t think it works like that,” the Doctor huffed a laugh as he finally moved to join you at the TARDIS doors. He opened the doors and stepped out, you following close behind, “I doubt a space Doctor is as sought-after as a medical earth doctor.”

“Depends on who you ask, but it’s close enough,” you waved him off. “Anyways, you’re just my friend who happens to be a guy, they’re too nosy for their own good. Last thing I need if for them to start searching you up online and finding literally nothing because you’re not even from earth. I don’t even know how I’d answer those questions.”

“I mean, technically you can find me online—a lot of people on your earth know about me. I’m quite the phenomenon.”

“Not really the same thing,” you laughed.  

You waited patiently while the Doctor closed and locked the TARDIS, before the two of you were strolling in the direction of your parents' home. This visit was a surprise, since you didn’t have a cellphone that worked from Outerspace, so you really couldn’t contact them and let them know you were on your way beforehand.  

And even if they didn’t want company for long (which was unlikely), you and the Doctor could always leave. The TARDIS is only a few streets away. You don’t want them to feel obligated to entertain you and the Doctor if that’s not what they had in plan.

The two of you walked side by side, chatting easily about your latest adventure on a distant planet. An adventure you certainly wouldn’t be bringing up to your parents. You arrived at your parent’s home in minutes, walking up to the door and knocking. The Doctor trailed along behind you, a balance of interested and indifferent about being with you at your folk’s home.  

As expected, it was your mom to answer the door, swinging it open—and if the door happened to open outwards (which thankfully it didn’t), you probably would’ve been smacked backwards at the firm swing.  

“(Y/N)!” she greeted as she drew you in for a hug. You returned the hug with practiced ease, dropping it as soon as your mother did. Then she was looking you up and down, which she always did whenever you returned after not seeing them for months.  

After basically checking you out thoroughly, her attention snapped to the Doctor, who hadn’t moved since the door had swung open. She eyed him, to which he gave a small wave and a smile.

“You’ve brought a friend.”  

She didn’t sound mad, nor happy. But that was probably a good sign. And even if she didn’t like the Doctor it’s not like she’d say anything with him here. She’d wait until you were visiting alone, whenever that would happen next, to complain and tell you he was no good.  

“It’s the Doctor, mum,” you told her, “you’ve met him before.”

And that much was true. The Doctor had met both your parents in passing when he’d met you that first time. It was barely more than awkward ‘hi’s’ from both parties before the Doctor was sprinting away after some space creature tormenting earth. It still counted though.

“The Doctor, right.” She gave a nod, looking him up and down as well. She did that to everyone you brought him, including your friends from school. It was like she was trying to decide if she liked a person from their appearance.  

“It’s lovely to see you again,” the Doctor grinned from where he was standing.  

“Quite,” your mother replied. She looked between the two of you for a second before settling her attention on you and speaking again, “it’s about time you brought someone home. Well now, come in, come in. The both of you.”  

Your mom ushered both you and the Doctor into the house. You slipped off your shoes and the Doctor frowned before doing so as well.  

You tried not to laugh, since not once had you seen the Doctor without shoes. It was almost weird that he was now stood beside with just his socks on his feet. At least he was wearing socks, you couldn’t even imagine a barefoot Doctor.  

“How nice of you to show up for your mother’s birthday,” your father called from the couch, barely looking away from the television, “you could’ve called ahead though.”

“We were travelling,” you lied, but it wasn’t a complete lie, “bad reception. Besides it was supposed to be a surprise.”

“Well, colour me surprised,” your mother smiled happily. She casted a sideways glance at the Doctor, who’d distracted himself by looking at some of the photos hung on the walls.  

You looked towards the man too, before clearing your throat to get his attention and sitting down on a loveseat across from the couch. The Doctor followed you, settling onto the cushion beside you while your mother disappeared into the kitchen.

“Tea, coffee, anyone?”  

You glanced over at the Doctor, blinking at his shrug before you were calling back a, “tea for us!”

“Where are your manners?” your dad glanced towards you, “your mother is making you and your friend tea, and you don’t even say please? If you don’t behave, no one will ever love you, silly girl.”

“Sorry,” you ducked you head in embarrassment. “Thank you, mum,” you called back into the kitchen. Your mother didn’t reply, but it did seem to please your father. You planned to thank your mother when she actually brought the teas out. 

You frowned; a bit upset that you’d been scolded in front of the Doctor after being in your parent’s home for less than five minutes. You leaned back on the loveseat, frowning down at your lap. You glanced up when you felt the Doctor’s elbow nudge you, but he wasn’t looking at you—instead focused on your father.  

You raised a confused eyebrow at him, but he didn’t really notice it. You weren’t too sure why the Doctor was all but glaring daggers at your father.

No one said anything. You’d already been scolded once, the Doctor not really a talker in situations like this, and your father still distracted by the television. He tended to avoid talking and socializing unless your mother was there beside him, which was normal.

Your mother returned soon enough, holding a tray with four steaming mugs, a little sugar bowl and a small pitcher of milk. There was also a stack of four plates, four forks and a small, store bought birthday cake.  

With your mother’s arrival, you father shut off the television so he could actually join the conversation. You knew if he left it on though, you mother would yell at him like she always did. You were thankful that they weren’t going to have one of those arguments with the Doctor in the room.

She set the tray on the coffee table, then got to work handing out everyone’s mugs. She started with your father, then the Doctor, then you. She casually managed to fill the silence as she distributed the mugs, “a coworker of mine bought a cake over to the house this afternoon, isn’t the lovely, (y/n)?”

“Thank you, mum,” you made sure to say after taking your mug into your hands, “it is a cute little cake.”

“I know!” she chirped, sitting back with her own mug, “it was the nicest thing. I mentioned that we hadn’t heard from you a while and that we weren’t sure you’d come around today, so she brought it over after work.”

“That’s very nice of her,” you mumbled, adding what you liked to your tea and stirring it up before taking a sip. You just let your mother drone on about her probably too nice coworkers. You gotten used to being compared to anyone who said anything nice to your mother at a young age, so it barely bothered you anymore.

“It is,” you mom grinned, “she was telling me about how her daughter is off at university, and how she comes home every weekend to visit-- what a sweet girl she is. You should be more like that. We hardly ever see you, and I assume it’s this young man’s fault?”

The Doctor looked like a dear in the headlight, mug lifted to his lips, but frozen there when your mother mentioned him. “No,” you came to his defense, “it’s just been busy. We’ve been travelling a quite a bit. There’s so much to see. I’m sorry I can’t visit as often as I’d like though.”

“Nonsense,” your dad frowned, setting his mug on the side table and crossing his arms over his chest, “if you really wanted to visit, you would. You’d make the time.”

You gave a heavy sigh, settling your mug on your thigh, “we’ve been over this, dad, I’m not nearly close enough to visit as often as I want. I get pulled here and there at...at work, and it was hard even finding the time to come visit you guys today.”

“We know darling,” your mother cooed, “we just miss you is all. You should be thankful that your father and I care about when you visit, lots of parents don’t care what their children get up to. We just like to know what’s going on in your life...”

“I am thankful,” you frowned, staring down into your mug, “I just... I’m busy. The Doctor and I have work to do, and I can’t... I can’t always be thinking about you guys and visiting. That wouldn’t be good for anyone.”

“No, of course not,” your mother relented, but the frown on her face clearly said she thought otherwise.

You felt bad that you couldn’t always be around for your parents, but you really needed a life. And there was absolutely no way you’d be passing up more trips into space with the Doctor for a few more evening tea parties with your parents.  

It was still a bit weird for you to hear your parents requesting to see you as often as they did. You remember them always commenting about how you needed to grow up, and be successful in your own life. How you needed to move out and stop mooching off them—always telling you to stop burdening them, and become an adult.  

And you had. You’d done exactly what they pushed you towards.

But now all they seemed to want was you back as you were.  

Parents were confusing.

“Right,” your mother spoke brightly, as if the last few minutes of conversation hadn’t happened, “who wants some cake?” She always tended to skip right over anything she didn’t like the sound of. It was a trait you’d known your whole life.  

You nodded your head, glancing towards the Doctor, who was still watching your parents as if he were trying to understand them. He’d barely had any of his tea, instead nursing the slowly cool mug in his lap. “Doctor?” you prompted. He turned to you giving a quiet ‘hm?’ in acknowledgement, “would you like a slice of cake?”

“Oh, no thank you,” the man shook his head, giving your parents a polite smile, “I don’t like to have too many sweets.”

“That’s alright,” you mother promised, “I’m sure I can bring the rest into work tomorrow. The two of us’ll never get through it all before it’s gone off, right darling?”  

Your father gave a hum of acknowledgement, which seemed to please her.

You watched as your mom unstacked the plates, she cut herself and your father small sized pieces of cake, “how big, sweetheart?”

Your mother looked towards you, almost impatient. “Uhm,” you mumbled, “a bit bigger than your guy’s?” You requested.  

The pieces your mother cut for them were about half the size of a regular slice of cake. You knew they liked to watch their sugars, but you didn’t really. You didn’t eat enough sweets in the TARDIS to really have to, so this was a bit of a treat.

Your mother’s eyes shot up to you, eyebrows furrowed in concerned thought, “are you sure? Should you really be eating that much sugar? Food is not your friend, honey. You’ve got to keep yourself in shape if you’re going to find yourself a nice husband.”

You blinked, frowning before you nodded, “yeah, you’re right. A bit smaller than you and dad’s alright?”

Your mother nodded happily, cutting a slice of cake for you and handing it across the coffee table. You eyed the cake for a moment, debating whether you really wanted to eat it. Maybe she was right?  

Before you could put it down and refuse the sweet treat, the Doctor hijacked your fork and took a bit of the dessert. You gaped at him in surprise, blinking at his bright smile, “it’s really quite good,” he told you, “you look lovely, I’m doubtful any amount of sweets could possibly take that away.”

You smiled at him, silently taking him. You really had wanted to eat the cake, but not if it would jeopardize your figure- but if the Doctor was saying it was good, and prompting you into it—it was hard to say no.

You took back your fork when the Doctor offered it back, taking a bite of the cake for yourself. It was delicious. He’d been right. It was probably the best non-homemade cake you’d ever had.

“Where did your coworker get that cake?” the Doctor questioned cheerfully, dragging your mother into easy conversation, “a special occasion is coming up and I’d love to get a cake for it.”

“Oh!” Your mother set her fork down on the edge of her plate, “it’s from this nice little bakery downtown, the name should be on the box in the kitchen, I’ll check for you when I bring the plates into the kitchen. They’ve got really nice sweets.”

“Wonderful,” the Doctor grinned, “I’m sure it’ll be perfect for the occasion.”  

You held you tongue before you could ask the Doctor what exactly he was talking about. Instead, you shoved another forkful of cake into your mouth and listened to the Doctor charm your mother over the little bakery downtown.  

Time continued on, and before you knew it, you were stepping into your shoes at your parent’s front door. They were both stood in the doorway, watching the you and the Doctor put your shoes back on.

“It was so lovely to see you again, honey,” your mother beamed, moving in to hug you once more, “I'm so glad you could make it for my birthday.”

“Yeah,” you hummed, “it was good to see you too mum.”  

“Come back soon, alright?” your father prompted, giving you a one-armed hug, “call ahead though, you don’t know if we’ll have plans or not. Our lives can’t revolve around you.”

“I know, but I really can’t,” you huffed, “reception is awful when you’re travelling. I’ve tried before and nothing goes through.”

Your dad gave a tired sigh as he pulled away, “you’ve always been so difficult.”

You opened your mouth to reply—to apologize—but the Doctor beat you to it, “well, it was lovely seeing you both again—or rather, meeting, I suppose. We must be off now, places to be and things to see!”

“Oh, alright,” your mom forced a smile, “we love you, sweetheart, and we’ll see you soon, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “love you guys too.”

And then the Doctor was leading you away, pace fast. You threw a wave over your shoulder, which your mother returned before she was shutting the door. You were in a weird state between glad you’d managed to see your parents on your mom’s birthday, but mad at yourself that you’d made the Doctor sit around with you.  

He had to have been bored. Your parents had barely acknowledged his existence throughout the hour-long visit.  

The Doctor didn’t really say anything as the two of you walked side by side back to the TARDIS. He was almost stewing, but you didn’t know why he was mad. Maybe because you’d begged him to tag along. Was he mad at you?

When you arrived at the blue police box, the Doctor was quick to unlock it. You stood patiently, waiting to see what would happen when the two of you were closed in together. He was obviously angry about something; you just weren’t sure what.  

You followed him in, shutting the door behind yourself. When you turned back into the room, the Doctor was already pressing buttons on the control panel. You stood for a second before finally speaking, “I’m sorry.”

The Doctor’s attention shot up towards you faster than you’d thought it ever had, but he no longer looked angry, “what on earth are you sorry for?”

“You’re not mad at me?” you asked skeptically, leaning back against the TARDIS doors.

“No, of course not.” He looked tilted his head, “I’m not mad at you, I’m mad at those people you call parents.”

Wait, what?

“Why’re you angry at them? Did they say something to you?”

You don’t remember them saying anything mean to the Doctor, but you wouldn’t put it passed them to passive aggressively say something that could be considered an insult to an alien.

“No,” the Doctor blinked, looking genuinely confused, “they said something to you.”  

“What do you mean?” you couldn’t help but ask. Did the Doctor see something you didn’t?

The Doctor let his hands slide off the console and drop to his sides, lips curling into a frown as he stepped towards you, “you really don’t see what they did wrong?”

“...no?”

“(Y/N),” the Doctor breathed, “your parents didn’t say a single nice thing to you tonight. Everything they said was some sort of twisted, belittling way of putting you down.”

“What are you talking about?” you questioned, not really understanding. “They didn’t say anything mean.”

“They were making little remarks, hidden away,” the Doctor insisted, “and I saw that they hurt you. You heard them, but you thought nothing more of the remarks because you’ve been hearing them probably your whole life. To you, they’re normal—normal behavior between parents and their children. It’s not, (Y/N).”  

“What do you...”

“You didn’t even notice,” the Doctor frowned, standing in front of you, “and I doubt your parents did either, but I did, and I don’t like it. It’s not right. Not when everything they said this evening couldn’t be further from the truth.”

The Doctor took a breath before launching into a heated rant, “your mother commented on you wanting cake, insinuating that one slice of cake would make you gain weight, but you’re absolutely perfect the way you are. You can have as many sweets as you’d like, she doesn’t get to dictate what you eat,” the paused for a moment.

He didn’t stop for long, because not even a beat later the Doctor continued on, “and your father told you no one would ever love you for forgetting to thank your mother instantly for a cup of tea. That certainly isn’t true, because I love you and no amount of anything—especially forgetting to say thank you—will change that.”

“Doctor--”

“And don’t even get me started on those little remarks,” the man huffed, turning away from you, “your mother comparing you to everyone, or your father saying rude things like ‘you’ve always been so difficult’,” the man mocked in your father’s voice, “and none of its true, you’re not difficult, and you’re a far better daughter than your mother takes you for—I mean, look where we are, we came from space for her birthday, and all she does is comment on your figure, and try to guilt you into visiting more often.”

The man finally looked at you, all anger in his eyes bleeding out as he finally noticed your frown, “I... never really noticed.”

“You shouldn’t have to notice,” the Doctor sighed, moving to pull you into a hug that was so much more comforting than anything your mother could give you, “you shouldn’t have to notice, because it shouldn’t happen. What they’re doing is emotional abuse. They’re hurting you—whether intentional or not, they are.”

“I do feel awful every time I see them,” you couldn’t help but mutter into the Doctor’s chest.  

“And you shouldn’t,” the man whispered honestly, “you really shouldn’t. You should feel good after seeing them. You should have a nice time with them—not be ridiculed and disrespected. I was only there for one evening, and I couldn’t stand the things they were saying about you. I’m so sorry that you’ve been suffering through that you whole life, (Y/N).”

You swallowed, unsure where to go from here. You really had never noticed—or maybe you’d never really paid attention to it. Never put the pieces together. But you saw it now. How everything they said made you feel bad about yourself, or hurt your feelings.  

And it sucked.  

“They said some pretty terrible things tonight, huh?”

“They did,” the Doctor sighed, holding you a bit closer, “but nothing they said was true in the slightest. They're abusers, and they’re wrong. They haven’t been very good parents.”

“Not tonight they haven’t,” you sighed. “My mom basically called me fat. Told me to watch my weight in a nice, roundabout kinda way.”

The Doctor bit his lip, before he gave a small nod, “but she was wrong. You’re perfect. She doesn’t get to say things like that to you when there’s no reason to be saying it. And there’s never a reason to say anything like that.”

“Suppose so,” you frowned, “it was good cake.”

“It was,” the Doctor grinned, “which is why we’re getting our own from that bakery, one that we’ll eat until we we’re sick. I’m not letting your parents tell you how to live, it’s not fair.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, “this was the special occasion you were talking about?”

The man grinned beside you, hopping towards the console again and pulling a lever that faded the TARDIS away from its parking spot, “had to cheer up my companion and make her feel special—I'd say that’s a pretty special occasion, wouldn’t you?”

<><><><>

I hope this was satisfactory, and thank you so much for prompting! As always, if it’s not what you were looking for, feel free to prompt me again! Apologies if the parents don’t read right, I never knew writing parents could be so hard! Didn’t know how to write a spontanious visit to the folks, so just went with a birthday.

[nothorses]

i've been thinking about this for a few days and trying to finally kind of put this into words. sorry if this turns out to be really long. ^^;

growing up queer in romania (which is..not the most accepting place, to put it mildly), english speaking online spaces were where i first found some kind of acceptance. i've been active on the internet since i was around 12 or 13, aka when i first started questioning, and the more i found out about myself, the more i distanced myself from my country and culture out of fear and shame, to the point where i almost exclusively think in english and have even had a few dreams partially or exclusively in english. i've only now started to realise how deep this disconnect actually goes and i'm kinda having an existential crisis over not feeling like i belong anywhere.

being a queer person here is no walk in the park. religion is a huge part of most romanian people's lives (i'm pretty sure around 90% of romanian citizens are orthodox christians), so the vast, vast majority of the population is agressively conservative. when it comes to social justice causes progress is very stagnant, younger generations which are still raised by conservative parents refuse change and i've seen and gotten much more homophobia and transphobia from people close to my age (late teens/early 20s) than from others. i know of next to no trans people who were able to live normal, happy lives here. and sadly i think this will only get worse seeing the measures that neighbouring countries like hungary and poland are taking.

even before i realised i was trans, i couldn't relate to cis people and have always felt somewhat disconnected from my country. then, as i finally felt like i found a place for myself in (mostly american-centric) english speaking queer spaces, the disconnect only worsened. i felt like a foreigner in the country where i was born and where i still live. however there is only so much that i can learn about other places in the world without actually living there, and in a lot of cases a lot of stuff that applies there doesn't apply here at all. i have no language to express myself authentically, words like "gay", "lesbian", "trans" etc have been transformed into insults. there are barely any lgbt resources here, and even those are vastly targeted towards cis people. but i can't turn to a completley foreign community from mine for help either because they are mostly or almost exclusively by and for americans.

all of this leaves me completley confused. i plan on emigrating later in my life, but no matter what i will do the country and culture that i was born in will still be a part of me, no matter what i do to reject it. i don't know whether to push it away even further or embrace it. it's kind of a weird situation and i haven't seen this discussion anywhere else yet, which is why i wanted to put it in words. not sure if you can even relate to this at all, but thank you for listening anyway. love your blog!

I also really haven’t seen folks talk about this elsewhere, and I really appreciate you speaking up about it. Thank you so much for sharing your experiences.

I don’t think this is a weird experience; queer people exist everywhere, no matter what, and we always have. I can say with certainty that you aren’t the only trans person in that situation; you just don’t have contact with the others. Hell, until recent years, this was the most common experience for queer people worldwide!

Even the U.S. hasn’t always been as safe for queer people as it is today, and certain areas here are definitely more dangerous than others. You may find some historical accounts of queer experiences, even in the U.S., resonate with you more; like Stone Butch Blues, which talks quite a bit about what it was like trying to find community while trans in the 1950′s & onward.

I don’t personally have experience with this, and can’t offer much advice that I’m not sure you know already; there is likely some more underground community there, there are others like you, and hopefully you can build at least a few connections. Something is better than nothing, wherever and however you can get it.

Maybe others have more to add- and if not, maybe this will, at the very least, resonate with others & help someone feel less alone.

[bluebellhairpin]

The Perfect Partner

Masquerade AU!Levi Ackerman X Fem!Reader

A/N: It says Fem!Reader, but I’ve tried to use minimal female pronouns anyways, so hopefully them fem-ness isn’t too noticeable. I hope y’all don’t mind too much. - Nemo

Summary: It’s your first masquerade ball, and thanks to the resident Princess, you got to dance with the most mysterious - and reclusive - guest. The problem? Everyone seems to know the weight of what dancing with him means. Everyone except you. 

Listening to: ‘Romantic Flight’ by John Powell

Part Two - ‘The Perfect Plan’ 

Masterlist

Making the move from your small hometown to the city of Paris was tiring enough, but adding having to attend a ball in less than a few days - a masquerade no less - made you feel even more exhausted. 

Your small group of servants were tired too, you could see it on their faces, but they diligently sought out a costume and mask for you to wear - perfectly fitted and covered in silk and lace. You swore them tomorrow off work. They more than deserved it. 

Stepping onto the grounds of the Chateau, you had no choice but to take a moment and admire it. It was like the building itself demanded it. 

There were lit torches, blazing a warm glow across every footpath in the grounds. The main walkways, one of which you'd made your way to stand on, were covered in a soft red fabric. Those two things alone made you feel more important than what you were. 

Your family's rank was born from an act of kindness. Generations ago, your great-great grandfather helped keep safe, and nurse a young man back to health. He did not know who the man was, nor did he care. He believed it was his duty to his fellow man to care for each other. That man he helped believed in paying kindness - no matter what form - forward. Your grandfather saved his life, and to the man that was the highest form of kindness anyone could offer. 

That man was the Prince, next in line for the throne of France, and he made your family what it is today. He was why you are here today. 

Still, over the generations, your family has been close friends with the coexisting Princes or Princesses. For you, you'd been passing letters to and getting them in return from the Princess since she could read. Even though you were a good handful of years older, the friendship between you and Princess Historia Reiss was strong. Even though you'd never met face-to-face in her almost eighteen years on earth, you felt an obligation to her. Like an older sibling would to a younger one. 

Finishing mulling over what had brought you here, and the outside decor, you made your way up the stairs leading to where all the other guests were congregating. 

The ballroom was - by far - the biggest room you'd seen in your whole life. Streams of baby blue fabric bled down from the ceiling, paired with the gold and blue wallpaper and the candelabras, it alone would've been a sight to see. But one other thing in the room demanded attention too. The chandelier was absolutely enormous. It shined with layers upon layers of diamonds and gold. You were almost cautious to walk near it because it's weight was too much for the Chateau's old ceiling.

You gently snatched a champagne glass from a passing waiter, taking a quick sip to lull your pumping heart back into submission. You weren't this nervous before, too distracted by the bright lights and colours to realize exactly what being here meant. 

You were alone, in a room full of people you'd only spoken to through letters, or seen in passing and in portraits. Being with them in person was completely different. It was new. It was scary.

"(y/n)! - Oh, excuse me, I'm so sorry -" A woman called to you, nudging a passerby as she came towards you in a hurry of blue fabric, "- (y/n) is that really you behind that mask!" 

You were a little shocked. Those blue eyes, the pinned back blonde hair. Was this Historia? 

"Uh, yes. I'm (y/n)." You stuttered. She slipped off her mask, grinning widely, and pulled you into a hug.

"Oh, after only writing to you for so long, it's absolutely wonderful to finally have you here!" She pulled away. This was definitely Historia. You laughed.

"How did you know it was me?" 

"I know everyone else here. You're the only one that was invited that I've never actually spoken to before." She said, linking your arm with hers and placing her mask back on. "It was all part of the plan." 

"What plan? -"

"- Oh look, here. You must meet these people!" She pulled you into a group, all of people around her age. You were too old to be being pulled around. "(y/n), these are two of our resident Knights, Mikasa and Eren, and this is my bookkeeper, Armin. Mikasa, Eren, Armin, this is my oldest and closest friend, (y/n)!" 

Mikasa offered you a polite nod, smiling lightly, as did Armin, the latter waving slightly. Eren, however, looked a little confused. 

"I thought Yimr was your closest friend?" he asked, tilting his head. 

You'd heard of Yimr, and how 'close' her and Historia were. You didn't know if these three knew what was really meant, but from the look in Eren's eyes, he at least didn't. 

"Well yes, and no, but that's not the point. The point is - oh my." 

"'Oh' what?" You asked, turning to where Historia had been distracted to this time. There, parting the crowd of guests like Moses at the Red Sea, was a man. He was dressed in all black, with a coat of satin red flowing behind him, and a mask to match. He seemed important. He was handsome. 

But you had no idea who he was. 

He approached Historia, bowing lowly, and most other guests went back to mingling and dancing. 

"Your highness," he said, rising to stand his full height, and even though he wasn't that tall he still posed a great deal of authority. His eyes flicked over to you. "And friend." Then he looked back to the group of wide-eyed teenagers behind Historia. "And other friends." 

"Good evening," Historia said, smiling over at you. "Here, I'll introduce you." she said, turning back and adding the new man into your circle. She tugged on your arm again, bringing you half a step forward. "Here is (y/n), she's been my friend since forever, and (y/n), this is -" At the pause in her stentace the man nodded, offering his hand out to you.

"Care for a dance, (y/n)?" 

Historia almost swung you around and into his arms, so you supposed you had no choice but to take his hand.

───────✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰✧.｡:✱───────

You'd never been to a ball like this before. You'd been to them, sure - ones with village folks, filled with farmers, bakers, and other lower-class nobles. You loved those balls. 

This was so different. The room wasn't stuffy, the music was less buoyant, and the food was much more varied. But this man, this stranger - even though everyone but you seemed to know exactly who he was - he was making it feel a bit more bearable. 

Even if he'd barely spoken, he still made you feel awfully comfortable - a far reach from how others acted towards him.

He introduced himself as Levi, and coming from Germany, he was a very good French speaker. You never would've guessed he wasn’t native if he didn't say. He almost smiled at that. Aside from the occasional small talk, and back and forth questions, he wasn't very conversational. You didn't mind, you were too caught up trying to not trip over. 

"Hey," he said, casting you out of your worried daze and straight into his grey eyes, "Stop fretting. Feel the music, from your toes to the tips of your hair. Let it flow through you, and your body will do the rest.”

That was the most he’d said in one go all evening. So you made sure to listen. To the music. To your body, and to his. You felt how his hand tightened in yours and how he pulled your waist closer to him. You saw how his eyes glossed over yours before fluttering to take in the rest of your obscured face, and how he took in a deep breath right before he took you both around the room. He must’ve been magic, that’s the only reason why he was able to make your dancing together feel like you were floating across the marble floor.

It was nothing short of amazing.

He took your attention for three more dances after the first. By the time you were done, you needed another drink, and you were ever so grateful that you wore a mask - he was close enough that he might have felt the heat from your cheeks that returned everytime he pulled you even closer otherwise. But even though your time together dancing was over, he didn’t just up and leave. He hooked your arm in his - much like Historia did much earlier - and guided you back outside to the gardens. 

You could feel the prying eyes on you as you went with him, but you oddly found yourself really not caring. No one spared you a second glance when you were on your own, or even with the Princess. What was it about Levi that they were so curious about? 

Wordlessly, he reached to where your hand was resting in the crook of his elbow, lacing his fingers with yours. He was being so kind to you, so gentle. Even though he - rather unceremoniously - stole you from Historia and her introductions, you didn’t really mind. 

“How are you friends with the Princess?” he asked, now walking in among an empty waist-high hedge maze, and tilted his head over to face you. “I’ve never seen you before, or heard of you, which is odd. Our family and hers are… Very close.” 

“Odd indeed. She’s never once mentioned you or your family in her letters either.” He barked out a short laugh at your quick response. 

“You really don’t know who I am do you?” He asked, a lace of amazement in his voice.

“Well you don’t know who I am either, so we’re even.” He clicked his tongue, releasing a ‘tch’ noise and shook his head.

“I could tell you were new the moment I first saw you. The look on your face when you entered the ballroom earlier, that’s not the face of someone who’s been here before.” He stopped walking, turning to stand toe-to-toe with you instead. “Who are you?” 

“Lowly, at best. Only a rank higher than a knight.” you answered, smiling, “But I am also happy. Very happy.” Levi then got a very soft look in his eyes. The kind that told you, on the inside, he was melting. 

“That’s all anyone could ever wish for. To reply ‘who are you?’ with ‘I am happy’.” You broke into light giggles, smiling and nodding at him. After you settled, you squeezed his hand, and saw he had a smile on his lips too.

“Now I’ve told you who I am. So who are you?”

[beautifulweird0]

Forgiving Your Parents

I know too many people who’ve experienced some form of trauma from their parents. This isn’t a blog about bashing your folks- this is hopefully a post that will help salvage some strained parent and child relationships. Cause I been there, done that-and understanding your parent is only feasible if your parent is interested in understanding you.

My disclaimer is this: The child isn’t responsible for mending the relationship...solely. I’mma tell you like this, if your parent doesn’t want anything to do with you...skip em’.

   Because that’s backwards as hell and that takes away from loving yourself. Anyway you chop it, if you find yourself forcing yourself on a “parent”, the relationship isn’t going to go anywhere-AND THAT’S NOT YOUR FAULT OR CONCERN. YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL! YOU ARE EXTREMELY WORTHY. I’m so sorry your people ain’t solid; it’s a reflection of them-not you.

It’s my belief that something is wrong with a person if they want no parts of having a relationship with their child. Literally so messed up from their own unhealed traumas that they can’t find it within themselves to love someone they created…

Ain’t no fixing on that unless you take they ass to a therapist.

Moving on.

I’ve always had such a strong feeling in my gut when I come across new people. It’s like they look at me and think I got it all. Truly looking at me and seeing a woman who doesn’t have insecurities or childhood traumas spotted along her path cause I’m kind and always make it a point to smile like Granny told me.

    I’m usually a private person. But its always been that ‘pull’ on me-telling me… “It’s another little girl that is going through the same stuff you went through. Say that shit anyway. And with your chest.” .

Think about it...

Can’t a soul embarrass you about some stuff you open about. That takes all the fun out of their miserable lives if folks know wassup already.

    So as a 22 year old woman that been through some mess with her people, let me share pieces of me. Cause the last thing you want on your conscience is one of your parents passing and ya’ll not being on the best of terms.

I was listening to Mad Bitches the other day and Mikhala Jene said something along the lines of, “Nobody living is perfect”.

That hit me a little different. Like damn...nobody walks this earth perfect so...why do we expect perfection (again, subconsciously).

THIS.

   This is why I say if your parent is trying, then work with them. If they sit down with you and tell you how life was for them coming up. The good parts, the ugly parts, and everything in-between. Trying their best to be authentic and build a bond, then meet em’ halfway (if they haven’t been on some stuff that’s just unforgivable).

And shit, our people ain’t have everything at their fingertips as we do. The apps that spread information quicker than you could sneeze, weren't available. They couldn’t go on a ‘self-care’ page to calm themselves down if triggered or go on YouTube and watch motivational videos. Not making excuses, just using a little perspective that helps me! Yet and still, let your parent(s) know if they did something to wrong you; you gotta’ have respect for yourself as a human. Period.

   I didn’t find out who my biological father was until I was about 16 years old. Up until that point I believed another man was my father (which he is still and will always be!).

Sooo...I already had abandonment issues from my parents and my dad lived in a way at that time, that all parties involved thought it was best my grandparents took us in. That’s all I know is Granny’s (& Grandpa’s) house since I was a baby.

    It helped that when my mom told me who my biological dad was, she was in a much better state of mind and stable-but man...I didn’t know what to feel. My sister was more upset than me (cause we have the same dad hypothetically).

     So many questions ran through my head that I couldn’t even cry or be mad. I was shocked. Everyone played their role so well…

There was a long road ahead of me. Not only did I have to forgive my mom and dad for lying to me for so long, but there was a father in the same city I had yet to know.

My first point is patience. If you aren’t going to be patient with an end goal for you and your parent, you’re wasting your time. Being prepared for them to fumble sometimes is mandatory if y’all going to get to a better place. You mess up on certain projects or what have you’s a few times before you get it right...right?

Give your parent the same energy if you were in their shoes. Cause baby...ain’t nothing worse than admitting your wrongs and still getting beat down. I couldn’t bring myself to be mad at my mom in that moment where she was vulnerable and upset cause she knew she played a part in hurting me. What was it gone do but make me feel bad and her feel worse?

     Blowing up wasn’t going to change what happened now 22 years ago.

Yeah, there’s hella’ books on parenting but I’mma tell y’all like my Granny told me, “There’s no such thing as a book on how to be a parent.”.

Having a child of my own- I’ve been witness to this. Folks can be shown and folks can be told on how to do certain things but with each child being different in this world, you have to be intune with them specifically- no book on that.

I was through hell and back with my mother and now we’re in an extremely better place because we both made the effort (more-so on her part 🌚).

But it was my responsibility to go into it with pure intentions and my guard down a bit after she made the effort; disappointment is what I expected sometimes cause I went into it knowing it was going to be a process.

Don’t get it confused,  my mom always knew how I was-that wasn’t the issue. The new end goal was getting to know each other again so I could understand her better so I could forgive her. That’s no sucka’ shit. Its real. Everybody in this life is going to disappoint you, one way or another. Better to know what you’re dealing with so you can assess the situation in order to better assess the person. Free game.

Another step to keep in mind is, boundaries. I just feel like it will make the whole exchange smoother-not easier- but smoother. The point of forgiving your parents and (if you chose) trying to build a relationship, is to have them know you for who you are NOW. Not when you were 5, not when you was 12...have them meet you at your level. They dropped the ball, not you. Sure...nobody asked to be here but that becomes invalid when you start having babies of your own. It’s a different ball game when you bring a life into this world. Your joys become the joy of your children but way too often we forget that our pain becomes theirs as well.

My father always tried too-the dad that I always knew as my dad. On weekends me and my sister would go to his house before he moved to Michigan. Man I was a daddies girl-still am. My grandparents had the house on lock, couldn't watch programs with cussing in it or too much violence. Life of having Southern Baptist grandparents I guess.

 The weekends at pops house was always interesting. I could watch all the music videos I wanted and watch the movies that didn't have too much goin on in them.

My dad would do different stuff with us like go to the library; he always knew I loved reading. Sometimes my dad would take us to the park or a friends house who had kids (how I met my husband), water parks, or even cooking dinner with me and my sister; plenty of quality time where I could talk to him about anything.

However, at the time, pops lived a certain lifestyle and no matter how hard he tried to shield it from us younger kids, I still seen things and experienced things a child shouldn't have. Again, comes with the lifestyle I guess.

My dad drunk...ALOT. And it was interesting to see the 'upsides' of alchoholism and the very big downsides. I'd never forget, I was maybe 8? Another weekend at my dads, just me and my sister (I have multiple brothers on that side too plus another sister), and I woke up one morning on the couch. My dad was goin through some things- all he had was a couch that he let me and my little sister sleep on. My 1st thought when I woke up was where was my dad sleeping? My sister was sleep, and it was still fairly early in the morning. I go back to the empty bedroom to find him sleep on the floor. No pillow. No cover. Just a beer in hand, laid out. That broke my heart.

Just remember feeling sad all over. I took the beer, threw it away then grabbed the pillow I had and laid it under his head. While doing so, my dad woke up, halfway and kissed my hand.

He told me straight up he loves me and he apologized. Didn't go into detail but he didn't have to. My dad never had his pops in his life, nor his mama until he was grown and was taking care of her though her illness.

I knew even at 8 years old that, that gotta hurt. I'm not gone sit here and act like I always understood the motives of my father but I tried because he always tried to understand me and til' this day, he is one of the top 3 people that KNOWS me like the back of his hand.

I had to forgive my parents because they’ve come a long way. Holding all that anger and resentment wasn’t gone help me in the long run. And in a way I can say I've helped to heal them by loving them through their screw ups. We always talk about a parents love but what about a child's love?

I don’t want to pass down my pain to my son, he don’t need that- the world will give its fair share. But everyday I pray that the world won’t hurt him bad. I want my son to be nothing less than strong mentally, emotionally, but most of all spiritually. He won’t have that unless I’m solid. So I ask myself… ‘hm, what’s still hurting me?’.

We all got a story to tell.

Love. Peace. Manifest.

[crystalessenceswrites]

Shadows- Chapter Three

Shadows

A modern monster AU Pairings: Din Djarin x fem!reader Rating: T (at the moment- subject to change) Warnings: Dark themes, canon-typical violence, descriptions of a dead body, desecration and disposal of a dead body. Summary: Crypto- concealed; secret. You have always lived your life in the shadows; after all, you’re one of the creatures who go bump in the night. He has sworn his life to a creed that aims to protect the world from monsters like you.

[Masterlist] [Chapter Two] [Chapter Three] [Chapter Four] Cross-posted on AO3

Satisfaction was not the right word, but it was the closest you could put your finger on as you watched the Mandalorian walk away. You had escaped his clutches twice now. While that was two more times that you would ever want to have a run-in with one of his kind there was still a sense of pride in being able to outmaneuver him. He dedicated his life to killing your kind but here you were, alive, while he was leaving without his target. A victory for you and Kira, no matter how small a success. Though that victory came with a bit of a mess. You and Kira needed to get the hell out of dodge. The gunshots and shouting would have already drawn attention from folks in the pub or out on the street. Which is exactly why you did not carry firearms for most jobs. Too messy.

“Hold this tight.” You’d had a spare scarf in your bag which was coming in handy. It would help staunch Kira’s bleeding long enough to get her into the clinic, so long as you had it tight enough.

Kira waves you off, “stop hovering. Take care of the body.”

As much as you didn’t need your partner bleeding out, she had a point. You had a body to dispose of.

There’s a routine to it. Stripping the outer layers, shoes, valuables and identifiers. The office had people who properly disposed of identification and could make nearly anyone disappear from any record or database. One less hassle you had to deal with.

You spread out the man’s coat and roll the cooling body onto it before ripping off the bottom of his shirt. Next comes the hand. Every slayer seems to have a preferred limb of extremity for proof of death. Some liked ears, fingers and toes, a tongue or an eyeball. You never could find the will to get that up close and personal with a corpse. A whole hand or foot was your preferred token. Easy enough to sever at the joint and it left plenty to identify the bounty with, keeping confusion to a minimum when you handed it over. In comparison it was just a bit harder to carry around and hide.

The man is only a few minutes dead, so the chop-job at the wrist makes a mess all over the bounty’s jacket. How you wished you had your clean up kit with you. Or more time. This was too rushed to be a proper job. The only upside to your location was its convenience-one dumpster at the ready. You toss the body, jacket and shoes before wrapping the hand up in the torn shirt. The last place you want to put the limb is in your purse but you’re out of options. Gross. Normally you had a proper bag prepared for this.

At least the bounty money would pay for a new bag.

Destruction was the last step. Fire was not your preferred method, it left too much behind, but you kept a lighter on your person at all times. Just in case. Though just a little zippo wasn’t going to cut it for a dumpster fire. Alcohol made a pretty decent accelerant and you were standing just outside a bar.

“You done yet?”

“Shove off,” you roll your eyes at the blonde. “You’re not exactly being much help.”

“Uh, bullet wound?”

“Excuses, excuses…”

Rummaging around the loading dock doesn’t help much, there’s no booze left out, which was probably smart on the pubs account. Most of what they had stored in the back looked like kitchen supplies and extra gas canisters for the bar. Those would provide more fire power than you were looking for and draw more attention than was good for such a rushed job. They would have to be your last resort.

“Hey Kira, what’s the flash point of cooking oil?”

“Average to low, I think.”

“Perfect.” You feel a little bad stealing the barrel but you’re in too much of a rush to dwell on it. “Drape my coat over your shoulders and take my purse, head back in and wait for me by the entrance. I’ll be there in a sec’.”

Kira winces a bit as she situates herself. Your coat just covers the blood stain blossoming across her shirt. Hopefully, no one in the pub looks too closely. Or checks the bag. “Got it.”

It’s not as easy as you’d like to hoist the plastic barrel into the dumpster, but you manage, albeit with very little grace. Popping the seal quickly covers the corpse and the rest of the dumpster’s contents in oil. All it takes is you dropping you lit zippo in for it to all go up in flames. Works almost a little too well.

.

“Why am I not surprised it was you two to run into the Mandalorian.” Rosalyn clicks her tongue as she goes about fixing Kira’s arm up with ever steady hands.

“(Y/N)’s a Mandalorian magnet, apparently.”

“Please don’t say that,” you groan. That was the last thing you needed. Mando had cornered you twice now and you did not want to see if the third time was charm for him. You wanted nothing more to do with the mysterious dark-haired man.

“But also an escape artist!” Kira grins despite Rosalyn’s ministrations.

The healer frowns, “she shouldn’t have to be. None of you should have to be. You’ve all got enough to worry about.”

Rosalyn, ever the worrier. Her big heart was the reason she became a nurse instead of a slayer in the first place. You’re not sure where you and the others would be without her. Scratch that, you knew Kira would be dead in a ditch without Rosalyn. She’d patched her up more times than either of you could count.

“We choose this life, Ros. We know the risks- Mandalorians and hunters are part of that risk.”

“None of us chose to be born into this life, to live in hiding from humans who want to kill us because we’re different,” Rosalyn’s voice cracks at the end, her eyes downcast.

She’s not wrong. None of you asked to be half-bloods, to be stuck in the in-between. There were few paths in life for your kind, all full of their own risks. But that was how your cards had fallen. You tried not to dwell on it, but it was not always easy. Some of the things you saw brought your circumstances to the forefront, the cruel indiscriminate nature of hunters being one of them. That had always been the biggest thorn in Kira’s side. Why she was so abrasive and hostile towards them.

“ ’M sorry, Ros. I didn’t mean it like that.”

The nurse forces a smile, “I know…I guess we’re all a little on edge lately.”

“That’s an understatement.” Kira gestures to her now properly bandaged arm, “think I will be now too.”

Rosalyn rolls her eyes, “just pay more attention. Or I’m not fixing you up next time you get shot.”

.

The compound was nearly up and running at full capacity. Families were settling in, supply stores were filling up, the armory stocked and so on. Din allowed himself a moment of pride watching the foundlings training in the yard- the next generation of Mandalorian hunters. It felt like lifetimes ago that he was one of them, day after day of drilling and sparring next to his brothers and sisters. Now Paz leads the training, passing on the wisdom and skills that had been passed to them by the warriors that came before. Passing on the knowledge of the monsters that stalk the world around them.

Monsters like her.

(Y/N)

That was what the blonde had called her.

Slayers, they had called themselves. None of what they had been taught mentioned slayers. There was nothing about monsters killing other monsters. Yet they’d called it their job. Were they some sort of twisted police force?

She certainly did not appear the type. But that’s how they all were. Appearing like something they’re not. Walking around in human skin, the monster swimming just below the surface. Din just had yet to figure what monster was lurking behind her sharp eyes.

“Din Djarin.”

If there was one person in the compound who knew more then he did, more than Paz did, it was the Armorer. Their coverts alor.

“Another successful hunt.”

The words taste like acid on his tongue, “no… I was interrupted.”

“Interrupted?”

“The woman who aided in the escape of the club owner showed up again.”

Armorer pauses, her face pensive, an expression Din does not see her wear often. “Is she tracking you?”

“No.” There was no way (Y/N) had managed to follow him. She’d fled after their first encounter anyways. “She said she was not our enemy.”

“Oh? You’re sure she’s one of them?”

Din nods, “I’ve seen her magic. And she called herself a slayer.”

Armorer’s eyebrows shoot up, “slayer?”

“Is that familiar to you?”

“Only in very old stories,” she muses. “They mimic us in some ways. They rid their kind of nuisances, ones who threaten to expose them, if the old stories are to be believed. I have never seen or heard of their kind otherwise.”

Nuisances. That seems to be what (Y/N) had been doing last night. Attempting to remove a sick criminal whose actions threatened to expose humans to the truth. So why had he never run into one of them until now? He was not new to hunting monsters. Din had a number of years under his belt now -that’s why he was the best in the covert- and he’d never seen or heard of them until he collided with her. Where exactly had they come from and why?

There always seems to be more mysteries with her involved.

“We will need to be vigilant for her and any others on future hunts.”

Din agrees. There could be no more surprises and no more escaped targets. He would not allow it.

.

“It is rather concerning on both accounts.”

You almost felt as if you and Kira were sitting in the principal’s office, about to be scolded for some dumb prank you’d pulled. Not that you’d ever pulled any pranks in school, or gotten in trouble for that matter. The circumstances of your identity meant you did everything in your power to stay under the radar. Quiet, polite, kept your head down. Your principal probably would not have recognized you back then. Yet you still couldn’t shake the odd sense of déjà vu you felt sitting Boss’s office.

“We’ll pass on the information about the bartender to the knights but if he’s gone this long without detection, it won’t be long before he comes back to us on the bounty list.”

“He’ll have a harder time hiding without his partner around to help.” It’s not much but at least even Kira was trying to be optimistic.

“We can hope,” Boss nods. “As for this Mandalorian… it appears your original concerns have been realized, (Y/N). We may need to be more proactive in monitoring the hunter, lest we have another Fett situation on our hands.”

Boba Fett had been a thorn in your office’s side for years before he’d died. Some of his targets had been known criminals with outstanding bounties, much like this new Mando, but others had been innocents, cryptos just going about their lives alongside humans. The community had been up in arms but there was not anything the office was allowed to do. Fett was human. It was the unfortunate circumstances you all had to navigate in your line of work. Your job was to catch criminal bounties, slayers had no power to protect other cryptos. Despite knowing that, locals had become rather upset with the inaction. There was a number of gathering places slayers had been banned from at the time in retribution. Time had smoothed over relations but the new Mando threatened to dredge everything back up again.

“Any luck on tracking down his informant?” If you could take his contact out of the mix maybe the Mando would skip town. There were plenty of other communities for him to terrorize. Other slayer’s bounties for him to steal.

Boss’s frown deepens, “nothing yet. The knights have been notified and we’ve got a few local leaders keeping their ears open. Someone will hear something soon.”

It had been over a month, if no one had heard anything by now you did not have much hope of anything new coming to light. You didn’t have it in you to contradict the old man though. No one wanted to admit they had hit a dead end.

“Is that all we can do? Pass it over to the knights and wait until someone else gets hurt?” Kira’s frustrations mirror your own. You both had trained for years before being allowed your three-year apprentice ship. To put everything you had into protecting your kind and taking down criminals and then to not have the power to deal with a Mandalorian was maddening. Just waiting on someone else made you want to tear your hair out.

[hello-im-not-a-possum]

Can we get a fic of Everyone's first reaction to snowflake?

“Everyone was used to supernatural bullshit and as the toons already existed for several years now, they already knew that the Ink could create life. So while there was a bit of shock for some at the thought of the Janitor being the new father of a toon of his own, they mostly congratulated Wally on his new son and/or gave him parenting advice.”

...Sorry, this feels like a cop out, so we just gotta throw a child into a different dimension for kicks and giggles and character development.

Knowing the magic user's history with this kind of thing, Snowflake couldn't help but feel nervous when he saw Joey painting a large circle on the wall and intricate symbols within the said circle.

"G-grandpa Joey, what are you doing?"

"Opening a portal to a different dimension." The animator replied nonchalantly. "An important key ingredient for several reversal spells no longer seems to exist in this one, so I'm getting more from the closest one that has a lot of it before the Ink starts acting up again."

"Oh?" The little devil looked intrigued, the last time a visitor from another dimension came to their own, he was strange, but friendly! And wondered what the rest of that dimension, or other ones like it were like. "Can I come? I-I'll be good I promise!"

"Well..." Joey brushed his mustache in thought as the portal started to open. "Other dimensions can be quite unpredictable, especially ones where magic is much more secretive than it is in our own, I don't think the studio on the other side even has living toons yet!" The animator fidgeted with his collar. "And given the track record other Joeys have with their own studios and magic, I don't think it's smart for me to take you..."

"Pleeeeeaaaaasse!" the imp begged. "I promise that I'll stay close and not run off! ...unless it's an emergency."

"Hmm..."

The magic user narrowed his eyebrows and continued to stroke his mustache as he thought about the potential consequences for bringing Snowflake along. The thought of a distraught Wally discovering that he had taken his son somewhere dangerous and the kid got hurt as a result had made the man immune to the imp's otherwise irresistible puppy eyes, but the Ink behind the imp slowly rising from a puddle to a featureless figure that was making threatening gestures made him quickly realize that the consequences for NOT bringing Snowflake along might be even worse than taking him.

"Okay."

"Yay!" the little devil cheered, taking Joey by the hand and pulling him through the portal. "C'mon! Let's go see what other dad's like!"

"Wait, wait, wait, wait," the old man gave a sharp tug on the speckled imp as he tried to run off and knelt down to be closer to his eye level. "This is *just* a last-resort errand run, nothing more, nothing less. Now that we're here, we are going to find the ingredient, get it and get out. Ideally, we won't even come across our alternate selves, let alone speak to them!"

"Why?"

Joey looked around nervously before bringing his voice down to a whisper and gestured for Snowflake to do the same.

"Because of the butterfly effect we'll bring here! How do you think the Wally on this side will react when you tell him you're his son from a different dimension when where he's from, magic is genuinely not real for him?"

"...He'll freak out?"

"Yes! Not only will he freak out but he'll probably tell everyone he knows! Including this world's Joey, who judging by his nickname; "That shi- shoot heel puppeteer", is the last person who needs to know about magic, let alone how to use it..."

"Oh. Yeah, that doesn't sound good..." the imp agreed as he suddenly regretted his decision. "Do you think it's too late to throw me back-"

The pair gazed at the now blank spot on the wall where they came from.

"...Unfortunately yes, so stay close and put on a disguise."

"I-I didn't bring one..." the imp sheepishly responded. "...Sorry, I got too caught up in the excitement."

Joey sighed deeply as he took off his glasses and sweater vest, putting them on the kid toon instead.

"It's not the best, but it'll do for now as long as we don't stick around long enough for them to see past it, so let's hurry out of here!"

Snowflake nodded and guided Joey as he tried to navigate the similar-yet different studio. (The man did not wear glasses for the sake of aesthetic.)

The layout seemed similar enough, but there were less pipes running through the building, the colors were duller, the stale smell of tobacco, old coffee, sweat, and a coppery-earthy scent that reminded Joey of blood but wasn't quite similar enough for him to call it that lingered in every single room they entered, the employees that they passed might as well have been reanimated corpses with how drained of energy they looked, all of them didn't even so much as acknowledge the pair's presence.

That was, until, an unfamiliar-looking yet familiar sounding janitor took notice. The man didn't look like Snowflake's dad, he was a lanky fellow and wore the same hat that his own father wore to work, but the similarities in appearance stopped right there. This world's Wally had shaggy, dark brown hair, eyes so dark that they looked black, a crooked nose, and when he smiled at them, Snowflake could clearly see that the man was missing a tooth.

"Hey, how'd you two get in 'ere?"

Joey cursed under his breath before answering the other Wally.

"Well, I was just-"

The dimension-traveling duo suddenly felt dozens of angry eyes on them, which had melted into confusion and mild intriguement as they realized that the man who spoke looked more like a kindly grandpa with an odd-looking Bendy doll with him instead of their sleazy boss. The pair of outsiders were afraid they fucked everything up before to the relief of the pair and the horror to everybody else, they heard the voice of Sammy in the other room shouting "God dammit Joey! I told you time and time again to stay out of the music department!" followed by the revving of a chainsaw.

The animator was quick to realize his mistake as he cleared his throat and did his best 'sounds like a normal voice but isn't MY normal voice' voice.

"-I was just looking for a herbal shop nearby but got turned around. If one of you fine folks could give my grandson and I directions, we'll happily get out of your hair."

Wally frowned in confusion as he looked at the very obviously not-human creature who smiled meekly at him and waved. He shrugged off the mild weirdness as he remembered that he did know where an herbal shop was.

"Dat's all? No problem! Herbal shop's right next to a really good burgah joint, has a statue of a knight wranglin' a unicorn right outside da place, ya can't miss it, an' by extension, ya can't miss da herbal shop eithah."

"Why thank you, you're too kind..."

"Oh and uh, Sorry if da musicians 'ere freaked ya out." The janitor adjusted his hat, it now covered the man's eyes. "Our music director recently got re-hirahed but nobody's willin' ta forgive da boss ova what he put him through, not dat I blame 'em, I get jitteahs every time I think about it happenin' ta me too!"

Joey nodded sympathetically as he reached for his companion's hand and internally panicked as he couldn't find it.

---

Snowflake ran off, the eyes on his back and by proxy, the pressure of knowing that the fate of this world and his own was on his back was far too intense. In his mad rush, he had only made his situation worse with everywhere he ran as he had lost Joey's glasses on accident, which was a vital part of the disguise.

"Holy sheit! is that a bloody livin' toy?!"

"What in the goddamn... Bertrum! Come look! You gotta see this!"

"My word! What has Drew done?"

"Okay, this time I'm finally going to quit for real! I swear, these hallucinations are just getting worse every time I come into work!"

"It... it worked! Tom, look!"

"Or at least, this one looks better than the first model- Hey! Get back here!"

It was terrifying thinking about how these alternate versions of the people he knew and grew to love, ones who shared their voices and careers, but not appearances, memories, and experiences could very well be his enemies. Most chilling of all, he heard Joey's voice in the crowd.

"Well done Tommy! At least this one looked halfway presentable!"

He shuddered at the thought of that Joey getting his hands on him. He didn't even know where he ran off to, only that he had to escape from them, he then squeezed himself into a small crack in the wall, an easy feat for a boneless ink creature, not so much for anything else.

His heart pounded loudly against his chest, the little imp tried to hush it, and prayed that the noise wouldn’t give him away he just needed to calm down. But his prayers went unanswered as the 'click-clack' of a pair of high heels passed by, and a woman crouched down, possibly hearing him.

“Now how on earth did you manage to wedge yourself in there, little guy?”

He recognized that voice all right, he scooched deeper into his hiding spot, hoping she’d leave him alone. The woman, the Susie Campbell of this world judging by her voice, might’ve looked at him with concern, but something about her just felt… wrong to him. He knew of alternate realities, good ones, bad ones, and downright weird ones, but this one felt uncanny to him and he just wanted to go home, it wasn't outright worse than most dimensions, but it seemed so bleak and miserable.

Hopefully he was wrong, but as of right now, it felt like this was a world that wouldn't even so much as bat an eye at its own destruction.

"I-I shouldn't have asked in the f-first place..." he muttered to himself. "I s-should've j-just left Joey to do his errand and s-stayed out of it..."

"Hey," the woman gently knocked on the wall, all the imp could see of her was her face, a face that looked mostly normal except for her left eye, which looked glassy and didn't look at him like her right eye did. "Are you okay in there?"

Snowflake stayed quiet.

"Oh no..." the woman muttered to herself. "Don't panic, I'll go get help!"

She said as she left, but her words didn't make the little guy feel any better.

He slowly crawled out of his hiding spot, ready to hunt down another one while fighting off the guilt that came with making the other Susie worry about him, while her eye was weird, she seemed just as nice as the one from his own dimension.

What seemed less nice however, was the sudden cold, yet firm grip on his shoulder.

"You know, it's very rude ta ignore folks who's just tryin' ta help you."

"Eep!"

The imp spun around to face a man with a familiar voice, he was a tall, dark-skinned, older man with an eye patch on his right eye, had a thin frame, and attire that vaguely reminded Snowflake of a comic about a western vampire hunter that Buddy showed him.

"Awfully jumpy, aren't ya, kiddo?" Norman chuckled as he knelt down to his eye level. "I get that a lot from people. But in all seriousness, we can't just have yous wanderin' around wherever you please, this here studio's a dang deathtrap, even on the best of days."

"S-sorry Norman..." Snowflake adjusted Joey's sweater vest as a realization dawned on him: judging by the studio workers' lack of a surprised reaction to him, this world might be more magical than his own world's Joey assumed. "Hey, wait a minute, are toons real h-here too? Can I find Bendy, Alice and Boris around here?"

Norman raised an eyebrow in confusion, but thankfully for the imp's sake, he stayed calm.

"Mr. Drew's tryin' but he ain't got a dang thing ta show for it. Although, I'm kinda hoping he can't, it doesn't sit too right with me. Just call it a gut feelin', but I don't trust that anythin' good will come from him messing with things like that."

"Y-yeah..." Snowflake nodded. "I've been here for less than f-fifteen minutes and I think I can see exactly what you mean. This place's Joey seems so much worse than my Joey."

"Sorry ta hear that little guy..." Norman knelt down to the little demon. "So, would ya mind ta tell me about this 'other Joey?"

"Oh, sure thing!"

---

True to her word, when Susie returned, she brought over three people; Wally, Joey who was now wearing his slightly broken glasses (Who Snowflake was relieved to see), and a shirtless, long-haired man with a chainsaw in his hands.

He was tall and broad, had dark brown hair and tan skin, his eyes were a stormy gray, and they were sharp with a steadfast determination that made Snowflake feel nervous, the little imp felt like there was something deeply terrifying about this man, and not just because he was currently carrying a dangerous weapon. Although, he couldn't deny that he felt a sense of familiarity with this man that he had not felt with the others in this dimension.

Snowflake felt like he's met this man before.

"Alright, and he should be right here..." The voice actress trailed off as she saw the timid devil shyly wave at her, very much freed from his wall prison and seemed to be chatting with her favorite projectionist. "Oh! Hi Norman! Thanks for getting him out for us and keeping him company!"

"It was no problem, the kid wasn't half bad company."

"Ya know kid, we're glad ta see ya okay, but your grandpops and I was lookin' everywhere for you! Not gonna lie, ya gave us both a scare when ya ran off alone like dat."

"The fuck is that thing?"

"Sammy!" The woman elbowed the shirtless man in the ribs. "Be nice!"

"Alright..." The man rolled his eyes and gave a forced smile that showed off black gums and yellowish-grayish teeth that creeped Snowflake out (the smile itself, not the man's gums or teeth, judging by his smell, he was an avid smoker and it was at least normal for him to have a mouth like that, the smile however... he doesn't think a man's smile should be that wide.). As he lifted the little devil up by the shirt like a scruffed kitten, he presented him to Joey. "Now then, is this your lost little lamb?"

"Yes." Joey reached for the imp. "Please don't hold him like that."

"Nearest exit is down the hall, take a right turn when you reach the giant broken pipe that's leaking everywhere and hasn't been touched for at least a week." The man gestured fluidly as he still held up that creepy smile. "As... lovely as it was for you two to visit us and our little studio, we really should be getting back to work before Joey decides to fire and blacklist everyone in this room for loitering or something."

"Uh... thanks?" Joey suddenly snapped upright. "Wait, how are you all so calm about this?! All of you are barely even reacting over a living cartoon character right there!"

"Speaking of which do you know who doesn't need to know about that? Our boss. You claim you're not here for a meet and greet and I don't think this should turn into one. You got the information you came here for, now get what you needed from here and get out."

"Wow, you're a rather blunt fellow, aren't you?"

"You could say so."

"W-well, I-it was scary, but it was also nice meeting all of you! Maybe we should visit again later so we can know each other better!"

"Oooh! I'll look forward to it!" Susie smiled warmly. "Good luck with your ingredient hunt, boys!"

Sammy started to shove the pair down the hall as he felt they wouldn't leave otherwise.

"Yeah, yeah, goodbye and all that, see you soon, I won't forget to write... Have yourselves some happy travels! Goodbye again."

The musician led them out of the building and dusted off his hands as he returned to the others who did not look happy with him.

"That was very rude, Lawrence..." Susie scolded. "They just wanted our help!"

Wally shook his head but didn't add anything.

"And we gave it!” He hissed. “Do you really think it would be safe for them to stay and talk with the shitheel around? Especially after what he just did to us?! Do you want HIM to know that there's a different version of him who got everything he's wanted and more? What do you think he'll do to them when he finds them? Do you want to find out?"

Susie's face scrunched up in realization as the other two men uncomfortably shuffled in their spots.

"I thought so..."

"...Think they'll come back?" Norman piped up. "I kinda wanted to talk with that other Joey."

The musician shrugged.

"Do ya at least think we'll find a way ta get ta 'em ourselves?"

"Maybe? If they would a way here, I wouldn't be surprised if we could get there."

"Wanna look for a way there? Ya gotta admit you're curious what the other us are like too!"

"Hmm... Well, maybe after hours."

[florvinhara]

“ i can stay, if you want. ” for luna + A! ❤️ -nataliehsewell

aaaa thank you!!! <3 really got to showcase luna’s range from sad clown to failed comedian clown in this one so buckle in folks ;)

---

Luna has been pacing the length of the hallway for what feels like hours but could just as easily be minutes now, waiting for the doctor’s okay to see Ava.

She’s been alternating between cleaning imaginary smudges from her glasses and braiding, then unbraiding, the same strand of hair, filled with so much nervous energy and guilt she feels like an unsupervised pot boiling over. 

Because for the second time in as many months, Ava is incapacitated because of her. The events of the night replay in graphic flashes in Luna’s mind; the Trappers, the Volts, the blood. And all of it is her fault; not that she has more than a few scrapes to show for it, thanks to... Ava. Ava who shouldn’t even have to be in Wayhaven, much less stuck keeping watch over Luna, who was only in the line of fire because of the extensive list of people after Luna’s blood, who told her she needed to learn how to fight but she had refused and therefore been completely useless and now Ava is hurt again and she is still useless, just standing in this hallway like a-

“Detective?”  Dr. Tuft emerges from Ava’s room, interrupting Luna’s rapidly swirling thoughts. She nods her head at the door. “You can go in now.”

Luna’s heart skips a beat. “How is she?”

The doctor frowns. “Impossible.” She rakes her eyes over Luna, who must really be a sight because her silvery eyes soften and she adds, “But I’ve given her a sedative and she should be back on her feet by tomorrow. As long as she rests.” This last part is delivered with a stern look. 

“I’ll be quick,” Luna promises, and Dr. Tuft nods, heading down the hallway. Luna faces the door, her stomach twisting anxiously, and she only just remembers to untangle the piece of half-braided hair before she enters Ava’s room. 

It’s the second time she’s been in here, and it’s just as she remembers- void of color and decoration, everything purely functional. But Luna’s focus is instantly drawn to where Ava lies bandaged and pale, green eyes tracking her as she walks over to the side of the bed. 

Part of Luna wants to collapse right there, apologizing for everything she’s done and everything she hasn’t, for being the reason Ava’s hurt right now, but dimly she recognizes that it wouldn’t be fair of her to burden the agent with her guilt on top of everything else, so instead she tries for a winning smile. “So I guess it did hurt when you fell from heaven,” she jokes, then immediately grimaces because what the HELL was that you complete buffoon that doesn’t even make sense?! Ava scoffs out a short laugh regardless, and that is enough to encourage Luna to perch on the edge of the bed. 

The levity is short-lived as Luna takes in the full extent of Ava’s injuries and then, unable to bear it, drops her gaze to the grey bed sheets with a frown. 

“What is it?” Ava asks in a surprisingly gentle voice. And the fact that right now, of all times, Ava is concerned for her well-being, is so ridiculous that Luna almost laughs, but instead looks back up at her with a disbelieving stare.

“You’re hurt,” Luna says, and Ava sits up a little, a stubborn glint in her eyes.

“Hardly,” she scoffs. “If I were not confined to this bed, I would be fully recovered by now.” It would be more convincing if her face wasn’t tense with pain. 

Luna shakes her head in exasperation. “I think if you weren’t confined to this bed you’d be passed out in a hallway somewhere,” she counters, making Ava scowl and slump back against the pillows. “I’m sorry,” Luna adds in a rush, suddenly unable to help herself. 

“What for?” Ava peers at her.

“It was me they were after, I should have distracted them or done something to get them away-”

Ava interrupts suddenly, voice sharp. “Absolutely not. Your safety is of paramount importance and I…” She seems to waver, hands tightening into fists as if to stop herself from reaching out. “I could not risk harm befalling you.” 

There’s an implication there that Luna isn’t quite sure how to interpret, but it steals the words from her throat nonetheless, and a tense silence descends on the room as the two of them watch each other closely, waiting to see who will make the next move. 

Ava blinks drowsily, ending their impromptu staring match, and Luna remembers with horror that she promised to be quick so Ava could rest and heal. She stands quickly, gesturing at the door. “So I guess I should-”

“Would you-” Ava starts at the same time, before both of them stop, looking at the other expectantly. 

“Well, I can-”

“If you need-”

An entirely different kind of silence settles heavily over them as Ava smooths her hand over the sheets in an uncharacteristically awkward manner and Luna nervously adjusts her glasses. Several long seconds later, Ava looks up, gesturing for Luna to speak first.

“Just, um. I can stay. If you want.” What is she doing! Of course she doesn’t want that, Luna thinks furiously to herself, this is all my fault and she’s supposed to be resting and it’s not like we’re-

Ava cuts off the spiral early, as she so often does. “I would like that,” she murmurs, eyes starting to flutter shut. 

“Okay,” Luna says, feeling suddenly shy even though this was her idea in the first place. She sits down on the bed again, slouching into a half-sitting, half-reclining position with her back resting against the headboard. Ava watches her move with a surprising intensity. The bed is large enough for there to be plenty of room between them, but somehow by the time Luna gets comfortable Ava’s hand is close enough to graze her own. Hesitant, Luna moves to let her fingers cover Ava’s, and with a soft exhale the agent’s eyes fall closed as she drifts into sleep. 

Now that she’s in Ava’s presence and the fear from the night’s events is slowly abating, Luna realizes she’s completely exhausted, and the fact that she’s in a bed doesn’t help. She should probably go, but she really doesn’t want to leave, not when Ava is so close and looking more at peace than Luna’s ever seen before. She decides to close her heavy eyes for just a second...

Sunlight poking through the curtains rouses Luna from a heavy slumber, and she narrows her eyes to inspect a room that, although admittedly very blurry, she’s pretty sure is not her own. Blindly, she waves an arm at what looks like a bedside table, accidentally smacking the drawer open, until she locates her glasses and shoves them on. Confusion gives way to panic as Luna realizes she must have fallen asleep in Ava’s room, although she certainly doesn’t remember taking off her glasses or getting under the covers. 

Ava must have woken up a while ago and gone, hopefully with medical permission; the side of the bed she was sleeping on is cold and made with extreme precision. Luna considers the tangled sheets she’s laying in and quickly gets up, flapping ineffectually at them until they look… well. Sort of neat. 

Backing up to survey the bed, Luna rams into the drawer she’d accidentally opened, and with a pained curse turns to close it- and then freezes, her heart leaping into her throat. The drawer is empty except for a phone charger and a photograph, one she recognizes, one she’s in. The ground seems to shift beneath her as Luna stares in disbelief at the picture the two of them had taken at the carnival, and maybe that is why she doesn’t register the sound of Ava’s footsteps until they’re right behind her.

[cowboisadness]

Hang ‘Em High {Arthur Morgan x OC} Chapter 13

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x FemOC

Summery: Belle Hawthorne is high society looking to escape her mean husband. A robbery by the Van Der Linde gang could be her chance. Can she escape his cluches and possibly discover what love should feel like?

Warnings: Micah being Micah

.....

Chapter 13

I couldn’t stop thinking about Arthur's reaction after telling him I wanted to kill that no-good bastard. Currently stood in the cover of Arthurs tent as Miss Grimshaw checked my wound for any infection and helped me apply fresh dressings. She had seen so much of me at this point it didn't bother me anymore. She really was the mother hen of this gang. His reaction was one of confusion at first. His brows furrowed and his mouth hanging open like he had a million questions but didn’t know which one to start with. The moment I began to laugh his expression relaxed, snorting out a laugh along and shaking his head. Like it was a lighthearted joke shared amongst friends. To be honest, I am undecided on if it was a joke or not, I couldn’t see myself going through with something like that but I imagined it none-the-less The rage was true, I felt it from the depths of that pit in my stomach and as it spread throughout me. I wanted him to die, to be rid of him for once and for all, it would be the only thing to quell this feeling. 

My wound travelled from my breastbone and down just shy a couple of inches from my navel. A clean-cut that wasn’t deep enough to require stitches but enough to scar. Another to add to the collection.

Once done I made my way to the scout fire just on the edge of camp. It was hardly used by other members of the camp so the fire was out, everyone preferring to sit amongst each other at the main fire. Kicking the burnt logs on top I collected what I was after, the charcoals that sat at the bottom. Old wood that was burnt for so long and almost starved of oxygen. It was perfect for what I needed. I took my blackened treasure to the lakeside, collecting a pestle and mortar as well as a spare metal cup on the way. Sitting on the small jetty I began to make my concoction, breaking down the charcoal till it was nothing but dust and adding small amounts of water. Mixing it all together till a black paste was formed. I kept at it crushing as much of the charcoal until it was thoroughly mixed. The sun was high in the sky at this point, its rays reflecting off the ripples as it licked the stony shore. I continued what I was doing even as I heard footsteps on the jetty coming towards me. The person stopping just a couple of feet away from me, my back still turned away from whoever it may be. “What you up to girly?”

It was Micah. I had only interacted with him a few times since being here. His comments always seem condescending and slimy. The girls had warned me about him, none of them liked him and actively tried to keep away from him after comments he had made towards each of them. I wouldn’t have guessed he had been here only a handful of months given how he hangs around Dutch like a bad smell. “Charcoal mixed with water. Going to use it as eye makeup to hopefully make me less recognisable while out of camp.” “I thought only whores painted their faces. Whores and clowns.” He sneered 

“They possibly do.”

“Bit of a shame to ruin that young pretty face with makeup don’t you think? If you ever want to leave camp for a drink just come along with me. I’ll make sure to take care of you.” His voice turned lower with seductive tones. Worthy to make the bile from your stomach make its way up and stick to the back of your throat.

“Um, thank you for the offer, Micah, but I think I’ll feel much safer disguising myself somehow no matter who is with me.” I still didn't turn to him, hoping that he would take the hint that I didn't want his company. 

“Suit yourself. But the offer still stands, I’m willing to take you out on the town. Show you how us folks really party. None of that pricey wine and fancy petticoats you’re probably used to.”

I finally turned to him, looking at him deadpan in the hopes he would get the hint. He seemed too as he raised his hands in defeat and began walking backwards back into camp. That man desperately needs to go into town himself and pay for a woman. Hopefully, then he might just be a bit more bearable to converse with. But no woman would be paid enough to lay with that man. 

 Once done I poured the contents into the metal cup then cleaned out the pestle and mortar before returning it. The camp was much quieter than this morning when Sadie threatened to slice up Pearson. Arthur decided to take her out of camp and help with collecting any provisions Pearson needed. Knowing what Sadie had been through, losing her home and husband brutally and thus having her life flipped completely on its head, I wasn’t surprised by her overall behaviour. A once hardworking and happy woman with nothing to lose. I understood that in a way. They both arrived back, Sadie now sporting pants instead of a dress. They both unloaded the wagon and then Arthur was off again to meet Dutch back in Rhodes. I made my way over to the wagon to help organise the provisions and to offer my help in preparing the stew. Give Sadie and Pearson a break from each other. “Nice look you got going on, Sadie.” I smiled at the woman as I approached. She turned towards me, a box of vegetables in her hands. 

“Why, thank you. Thought I would take a leaf outta your book. They are sure more practical than a damn dress.”

“More comfortable too.” She hummed her agreement, placing the box down and then leaning against the wagon and lighting a cigarette. She offered me one to take from the box and I gladly accepted. She lit another match and presented it to me for me to light it with. Smoke quickly fills the air between us. 

“So how are you doing?” She asked, waving the match in the air and then flinging it into the dirt.

“I’ve had worse. What about you?”

“This place is driving me nuts. Glad I could get out for a while. Shooting those no good Raiders that ambushed us helped me relieve some of the rage.”

“You got ambushed?” I looked at her with wide eyes, smoke being exhaled as I spoke. 

“Relax, I ain’t afraid to hold my own...Ain’t afraid of dyin’ neither.”

“Hmm, I knew that feeling once,” I replied, thinking back to that night looking over the balcony railings in Saint Denis. Dying by his hand was a petrifying thought but dying by my own was something I thought about often back then.

“Oh, I got what you asked for. Sumac flowers and beet juice?”

“Thank you so much, Sadie. This is perfect.” I boasted, taking the items from her.

“What you need it for anyway?”

“Sumac and beets are natural dyes. Hoping together they will change my hair colour to a dark red.” 

“Well, that sounds mighty smart.” She smiled, blowing out smoke into the air above and then flinging the cigarette into the dirt along with the matches. We parted ways after that and I began to help Pearson prepare the stew. He seemed considerably more at ease with me as his assistant chef this time around. We exchanged mindless chatter about the weather and what variations of stew he could create. That was until he mentioned his time in the Navy. Once he started he couldn’t stop. But I listened along with a smile on my face and the occasional ‘uh huh’. After the threats he received this morning and gave out no less, I wasn’t in the position to stop him from having this moment of happiness.     Once everything was in the pot and beginning its slow boil, I made my way over to Karen for a towel I could borrow. Collected a fresh pair of clothing and a bar of soap and made my way to the lake. Beet juice and Sumac in hand. I'd crushed the Sumac into a powder after preparing dinner then mixed it in the jar that held the beet juice. It was very dark red, like old blood or wet artists paint. With my dark blonde hair, it should have no problem changing the overall colour while still looking somewhat natural. I’ll look like a new woman no doubt.  I followed along the waters edge until I was out of sight from the camp but still close enough I would be heard if anything was to happen. Placing the towel and soap on an old fallen log I made work on stripping my clothes and dressings, dropping them on the dirt around me. They were sweat-soaked anyway with how hot it can get here during the day. Opening the jar I was met with the powerful smell of beets, that earthy smell along with the scent the sumac was giving off was overwhelming but thankfully not too unpleasant. Making my way into the lake I began pouring the mixture onto the top of my head, making sure to get every strand completely saturated and not paying any mind to how it will stain my skin on the back of my neck and down my back where it lays. Leaving a trail in my path I flung the jar back onto the shore once I was waist-deep. Thankfully the lake remained shallow quite far out, given that I couldn’t get my wound wet. I began to wash, humming to myself at the delightful coolness the water granted. I’m starting to get used to this. Bathing in lakes instead of warm and deep porcelain tubs. Fish surrounding me instead of bubbles and the smell of the earth instead of Lavender hair oils. Although I'd probably be saying the exact opposite if I was in colder climates. I spent more time than I usually would bathing. Cupping the water and letting it pour over my shoulders and arms to wash away the soap and dirt, being careful to avoid the cut as I went. The scabs formed a ridge along my flesh, the skin tight and red around the edges. A constant reminder. 

Leaning back I dipped my head into the water to remove the dye and just hoping it had done its job. The water surrounding me turned the same deep red as I ran my fingers through my hair, pulling out any knots as each digit travelled from the top to the ends. An overwhelming sense of tranquillity washed over me as I looked out beyond the lake to the land ahead and around me. A small flock of ducks milling about further up, diving under the water to catch any small fish swimming below them. I slowly started making my way along, hoping I didn't disturb them. The cool water lapped around my waist and rippled behind me. Perching myself next to a large boulder standing out of the water to watch them as they quacked and ruffled their feathers. I was lost in my thoughts once again for a short while, the sounds of my name being called from the shore behind me bringing me back to where I was. I made my way around the boulder to see Arthur standing at the shore beside my scattered clothing. We saw each other at the same time, my arms coming up to cover myself, him turning around to face away from me. No doubt he saw. I could feel the heat flushing to my face, my cheeks probably as red as my hair should be. “Jesus...are you okay? Your cut opened up?” He asked, fidgeting on his feet as he looked in the direction of camp

“What? Erm, no, I’m fine.” I shook my head. He turned back slowly then, his eyes going everywhere else until they landed on me, then looked down to where my clothes lay.

“W-well what's with the blood all over here?”

“Oh...that’s beet juice. I’m fine, Arthur. I’m coming out in a moment.”

“Okay...Well, Hosea is looking for you.” 

“Okay...Thank you, Arthur.” I said more quietly, my cheeks still burning and my arms wrapped tightly around my chest. His eyes met mine for a moment and I expected him to turn away again like the gentleman he usually is, but he didn't. And neither did i. He inhaled deeply, nodding his head then turned to make his way back to camp with some haste. 

I leaned against the boulder, exhaling a breath I didn't know I was holding in. The chill of the water returning as my body began to cool down.

Despite the embarrassment of what just happened I thought to myself, out of all the men in the camp he was the only one I was glad came looking for me. Anyone else I would be mortified. 

I didn't mind Arthur seeing me like this. I trusted him...I liked him. 

My whole body shivered, goosebumps forming all across my arms and chest. It wasn’t caused by the water or the air was beginning to lower in temperature. 

With my lips curving up into a smidgen of a smile and a quiet sigh I admitted to myself that I liked that he saw me. I wanted him to.

@kashasenpai​

[spaceskam]

The Road You Didn't Take (2/7)

for day 2 of @michaelguerinweek : “There’s something you should know…”

ao3

Alex sat in the back of the car, staring out the window.

He still had that crease between his eyebrows like he was concerned or in pain. Michael had went to ask if he was alright more than once, but he figured he’d say something if he wanted it to be known. Besides, he agreed to Mississippi, so that was something.

They were still in New Mexico, going 80 on the interstate and sitting in complete silence. It’d crossed Michael’s mind more than once that he should probably mention that he recognized him, it’d make things less new. They weren’t strangers. Well, they were, but they weren’t. Or something.

“So,” Michael started, looking up at him, “I figure we could stop in Texas for the night, stay somewhere.”

“Okay,” Alex agreed.

Michael waited for a few more minutes before caving and deciding to ask.

“Are you okay?“ 

Alex didn’t immediately answer. He just breathed and stared out the window, clearly trying to think of what to say. That was enough to tell Michael that the answer was “no” but he didn’t push. He wasn’t stupid back in high school. As beautiful as Alex was, he’d always been a bit troubled. Maybe that was still following him. He just wanted to know.

“Well, personally, life sucks. Headed to Mississippi to try to start new myself, so hopefully it’ll help you too,” Michael offered. Alex breathed in deep and shrugged.

“Doubt it.”

“Why not?” Silence again. “Okay. Well, I hope it does anyway.”

Michael turned on the radio and fiddled with it for awhile before settling on a radio show where the two hosts were spilling celebrity gossip. Ariana Grande this, Kendall Jenner that, a ton of other names he didn’t quite recognize. It was mindless enough until they started talking about someone in particular.

“Alright, let’s talk about why fans of Fever Dream, the indie folk punk band gone mainstream after their title song from their most recent album went viral, are thinking lead singer Alex Manes might be leaving the band after going radio silent on all social media,” one of the hosts said, using her best gossip voice. Michael’s eyes widened a little and he looked back to Alex who looked even more pained.

“Can you change it, please?” Alex asked. 

“Yeah,” Michael agreed, clearing his throat and turning it to a random station. An old Johnny Cash song played through the speakers and it felt safe. Well, at least he knew what he was running from..

Michael didn’t say anything more as they drove. How did he not realize Alex had gotten famous? Or, had reached some level of fame at least. Shouldn’t that be something he would’ve noticed? 

It made him even more nervous to tell Alex that he knew him. He might think he was lying, that he was some crazed fan who was taking advantage of Alex’s state. Honestly, it didn’t seem like Alex had much self-preservation in the first place. 

Michael got off at an exit right on the edge of New Mexico and Texas to stop and get gas. He asked Alex if he wanted anything to eat and got a shrug, so he went into the gas station and just got a few different things and hoped Alex would like at least one. Crackers, original potato chips, chocolate, and two slices of cheese pizza along with two bottles of water.

“Thank you,” Alex said, accepting the pizza and the water. Michael just smiled and went to fill up the tank.

When he got back in the car, they sat and ate and Michael tried to figure out what to say to him. He didn’t want to press, but he also didn’t want to spend the entire weekend with him in silence. He just had to find something to talk to him about.

“So, what’s it like having straight hair?” Michael asked. Alex looked at him with confused eyes and slowly pulled the water bottle from his mouth. He had the tiniest trace of a smile which felt like a win.

“What?”

“Well, I wanna get to know you so small talk is out of question, but I don’t wanna start too heavy. So I got that and asking how you prefer your toast. Pick your poison,” Michael said. Alex’s smile got a little more obvious.

“Barely cooked. Just enough to call it toast with grape jelly on it,” Alex answered. Michael nodded thoughtfully. 

“I’m more of a strawberry jam guy myself, but I respect your choices,” he said, “I don’t turn peanut butter down either.”

“Peanut butter on toast?”

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it. It’s good,” Michael promised.

“I’ll have to try it sometime.”

“Absolutely.”

Michael opened the bag of chips and held it out to Alex. He plucked a couple from the bag and held them in his palm as he ate slowly. Michael switched between looking at him and looking at the chips.

“So, do you like podcasts? I can put one on until we find a motel,” he said.

“I’ll listen to whatever.”

“I like true crime, but that might be a little much when we basically just met,” Michael said. Alex shook his head.

“I don’t mind.”

“You’re just going with the flow on everything, huh?” Alex just shrugged.

“Sometimes you need to just go with the flow.”

“I feel that,” Michael nodded, “I’ve been living with my sister and just going with the flow, but I’m tired of that shit. Heading out to Mississippi to find a new job. You were gonna be my last ride, so it was pretty phenomenal.”

“Funny how life works,” Alex said. Michael nodded. 

He stared at him for a moment, weighing his options. It seemed like a good time to just get out on the table.

“So, if we’re gonna be traveling together, there’s probably something you should know,” Michael said. Alex froze a little and looked at him cautiously, nodding. “We went to high school together. Michael Guerin, if you remember. Wasn’t particularly talkative.”

Alex stared at him, eyebrows furrowed as he tried to place him before they shot up and his eyes widened. 

“Oh, fuck, dude, I’m sorry I didn’t notice you,” he said, “Life’s been hectic.”

“You’re fine, I’m surprised you remember me at all.”

“How could I not? You were smart as fuck, I used to be so jealous,” Alex laughed. He’d visibly relaxed since hearing that and Michael wished he would’ve said something earlier.

“You were jealous of me? I was jealous of you. You were so cool,” Michael insisted. Alex quirked a little smile and shrugged. 

“Guess we probably should’ve talked then, huh?” Alex said, “Fate clearly wants us to meet.”

The idea of fate having a hand in this whole thing was almost too romance novel for him, but he liked it. How else would they explain how perfect the timing was?

“Well, guess we should see why.”

Alex smiled genuinely. He was obviously tired and worn, but his smile was still warm and Michael felt special. This felt worth every bad choice he’d made.

“I guess we should.”

[stray-tori]

TPN S02E07 Initial Thoughts (anime-only)

[ Reaction Vid with friends ]

.

I knew about two things in this episode, but that aside, all new stuff for me! I don’t know if it’s because it’s anime-original but quite frankly I don’t want to know. Somehow I’ve convinced myself I won’t care if I know things, but seeing it all unfold is still different - I still WISH i was more blind, obviously, but yeah. I just wish they had more runtime still to cover the final stretch because I do really want to relish this far longer, especially now that I only know like 2 things, one of which likely won’t be relevant in the anime-route.

BUT OH WELL, enough meta emotions. Onto the mess that is my thoughts in my tiny brain trying to comprehend all those factors and making sense of everything.

.

. Norman’s plan

I find it interesting that Mujika and Sonju are the thing that bothers Norman specifically. Ray asks “so they kept the power for themselves” in regards to the nobles, which to me means they have it (they did eat them). So aren’t they a risk too? Since Norman worries about Mujika using it to give the degenerated demons their bodies back -- though the nobles might not do that since it’d make the folk emancipated. But like, if you have no folk left, there’s nothing to control either...

So my guess why Mujika/Sonju are a bigger risk are:

they’re more unpredictable and might be quicker to counter-act his efforts with their ability

Norman knows WHERE the nobles are and (I’m guessing) has a plan to deal with them - he DOESN’T know where Mujika is so she’s riskier since she’s evading his view of the chessboard quite literally.

.

I do think I shouldn’t have to read between the lines like that - what’s Norman’s plan with the nobles? Does the drug really not work on them? If so, how will they get rid of them? To be fair, he seems very certain that eliminating Mujika and Sonju won’t be a big problem; so it’s likely that he’d proceed the same way with the nobles (probably lambda squad) - but I would have liked if that very valid concern had come up in the discussion of the plan.

His “safer” plan literally

doesn’t affect the nobles (who might be a small group but still); which goes unaddressed by him. I don’t think he’s not aware of it, since later in the discussion, the thing that bothers him about Emma saying to just get rid of the nobles and the farm humans ISN’T to get rid of them, what he considers implausible is using the noble’s blood / ONLY killing THEM and not all the demons. At least in my opinion.

human enemies (though they might get caught up in the wild demon chaos I guess)

the world will literally be riddled with wild demons for a good while. How is that any safer? I guess he’ll bring everyone to his hideout that was referenced (where he hides all the kids he broke out) and that will be protected from wild demons either by infrastructure or the humans inside -- I guess viewed from that perspective, it does sound like a pretty “safe” plan if it’s just enough of a “fortress” sort of deal.

His plan IS however more “concrete”. Going to the human world is risky because

the gatekeeper, whatever he is. But like, can he just leave the guardian be all the way underground? is that how it works? Won’t he have to get rid of him eventually?

they could be followed there. they could destroy the gate, however that would doom everyone still over there and who knows if the demons could just break the separation in rage.

they could be unwelcome by the humans on the other side. Either because they somehow profit off of the demon world’s human farms or because the humans over there fear the end of the promise and therefore scramble to send them back. idk if they could take an army of children but it’d be a risk for sure, especially if it implies that they would be constantly chased no matter where they go. A life on the run seems unfavorable (but I’d find that super interesting tbh, arc in the human world??).

andit isn’t going to GF (since he agreed to Emma going back for the others in ep6) that concerns him (imo) but actually just the gatekeeper and the risk of the human world that they don’t know about. Norman does know the effect his drug has on demons, because he’s SEEN it. Eliminating the demons is the more concrete option because if there's no demons, there's no-one to restart the cycle or to follow them or to do whatever. Even if nobody needs humans, that's no gurantee nobody will start farming humans again (see the high class, after all).

So I do think he makes sense there, but I also think it’s a bit of stubbornness and pride too.

there's too many factors and my brian is small.

.

. the dil-emma

Those slight confusions aside, it’s a good dilemma and I relish in it. Nobody could blame them if they did it, but Emma does have a point - do the lower ranks of society hold the blame for what the rich do? - in fact the nobles take all the quality food, leaving their other demons to starve and deform in the lower ranks, even though they don't need it. Did the two demons molded by the system they live in, who just wanted to save literal kids, deserve to die...? The class/capitalism allegory basically writes itself-

Emma is going hard on the parallels and emphasizing with them being living creatures just like them -- and I agree, honestly. Would it be fair to eradicate all of humanity just because the high class / corporations are damning the planet? (some would say yes but YKNOW)

I think Emma has a lot less footing right now -- the upper ranks have all the power, who says it’ll work this time even if they try to turn every demon? Who says they won’t be like the nobles or literally Sonju, one of their “friends” However, I don’t think Emma is being stupid - her concerns are valid. She’s not just doing it for Sonju and Mujika. Though, I still think it’d be interesting if Emma had to change her ideology, not method, this time but... I’m curious how it’ll go.

Tbh I think what it's gonna go for is the middle ground: escape to human world and hope that Sonju and Mujika will help the lower ranks of society and hopefully not be killed. But then again, Sonju wants to eat humans so rip

If they want to ensure some more power to Sonju and Mujika, then 1) flee to human world and kill nobles and farm administration in the process (likely included in part since the gate is in GF) and 2) then hope that demons will just accept their new found peace of not having to chase after humans and just chill in their world.

They probably also can't take every human, so there's always the risk of the cycle just starting anew (especially since as Norman said, some humans also act in self-interest. I'm curious what exactly that self-interest is, aside from getting to live peacefully potentially but even that sounds kind of like a not that epic thing in demon society. unless there's a small village for humans they've deemed worthy and are just throwing there, like what they promised Isabella - or it's just going to the human world I guess WHO KNOWS). and while I did touch upon a sort of "grey" ending for TPN where our group is safe but who knows about the rest, I am actually really curious if that's what they're going for or not. It feels like no matter what I consider something doesn't work out or doesn't feel right.

.

. the gates (and the human world)

I wish we would have known about gates existing prior to this episode. We never found out WHAT is at the location (just have Exposition James mention it). I understand why the pen only showed one - it’s implied the humans had a base there and of course you’d want to send escapees there and not into a farm’s gate but I think there should have still been a side note in the pen that it’s a gate?? Like clearly the farm already knows about gates if their farm is directly above it, right?? so why try to keep it secret pff-

is the implication that the highest humans are actually from the human side or how can I imagine that?? Is it actually not that rare for some humans to exist on both sides if they’re just high rank enough. A gate has no point if nobody can pass - but I guess maybe it’s just under the farm to protect it? Since you already have all those systems for the farm’s kids, why not double-utilize it as a safeguard.

why are there gates to begin with. I wonder if it's science or if that was a backdoor to the deal - but why would you even need that? I guess for human materials.

But it can’t be that nobody can cross, because I’m assuming the tech/food comes from the human world since we haven’t seen non-human farms that would provide for the farms. And if nobody can cross, deliveries will be hard...? So I’M CONFUSED.

.

. Nor “I just did a few tests” man

YES ANGST but also NO, BABY

Norman just loves them so much and he's running out of time >:”0 of course he'd want to go with the plan he's been cooking up. if he's not there he can't save them!

And he’s always been like that, too, as the episode very very clearly points out several times haha. He tricked them in s1 too. He might be more drastic in his methods, but he also admitted to originally only planning to escape with the two of them and he also admitted he suspected Ray first and he thought about cutting Ray off at first before he talked to Emma -- so even the more cold side isn’t all that surprising. He might also be dissociating a bit, tbh. 

But it’s also so tragic,,, He thinks he can’t give them the future Emma wanted without a sacrifice. The problem just is that it was a forced sacrifice because Norman lied to them and said he'd work with them to ensure he escapes too but then didn't. He gave up and forced his defeat on the others, because he thought that it was the safer option than taking more risks (which is happening now too lol).

I also wonder if aside from just... trying to save them until he can’t anymore, a part of his motivation in pushing them away (”isn’t it tough?” - “no”) is that he won’t burden them with his turmoil. He’s their savior right? He can’t falter. If he does, Emma and Ray will just become more stubborn about stopping him. It’ll make it harder for them. Maybe it’s better if they dislike him than worrying. Maybe it’d also make Emma hate herself less if he plays the bad guy...

those are my thoughts, anyway.

.

. Some drug thoughts

Assumptions:

it has to be applicable large scale

I assume the lances in the demon’s body are just there to immobilize it, and not to inject. there are those bulging parts around the entry points, but we did see that also happening when Ray shot the demon eye, so I’m assuming it’s simply their reaction to bodily harm/wounds.

plus, if they have to throw 50 spears into every demon to get the drug to work that's one hell of an inefficient plan

Based on how a lot of the demon dynamics work over food, I’m assuming it’d be something like mixing it into their drinking water, but that might leave some out of they notice. (do they even drink water?)

maybe it’s also just it getting into bodily contact. that would be convenient.

also why would you want a demon in your basement that just seems risky pff

.

. other random things I liked

the Gilda and Emma headbump was so cute sdfudhdsjsd

Lani and Thoma mentioning the migrating birds during their tower watch and that then later coming back when the kids think about where they could be was nice!

I think her involving everyone again is a nice nod to the season's theme, including the whole putting “faith” in them. Norman doesn’t trust them with his plan. I think the bigger problem isn’t that he won’t trust Emma’s plan, because he’s not wrong to object to it, but he should still rely on his family and let them help with the plan instead of deciding it all himself. He doesn't have to literally sacrifice himself for it, again. There is the "don't burden everything by yourself" message of the season, with Emma inviting Gilda and Ray prompting Don to come with them too (probably because they realized it’d be weird to rant about Norman doing everything alone and then doing the same pff-). I think that's what they're going for, that when they work together, he won't have to suffer so much. Even if the plan doesn't change much, he should still rely on them. it is however true that they don't have that much to offer in terms of a long-term solution right now, so that's unfortunate. But we'll see what finding Mujika will bring :3

The gate being in GF ties up the story really well for this weird 2 seasons abridged. i can kinda see what they're going for with the middle arcs missing, which definitely hurts overall but I think it makes the whole thing a little more streamlined in terms of themes and coming back to what s1 was about, quite literally. they just stumbled in the execution (hard, sometimes)

The seizures :((( they’re all so broken, they need HUGS

that "what makes you so nervous?" remark from Ray and also the squad being like "we don't have long left" as the lead up to Norman’s seizure was. so good.

Norman’s seizure scene. The far shot, the blood, the “sorry” I’M EMO-

Norman’s soft “be careful” to Emma and Ray, showing that softer side again :<

Also Ray's reaction to "the gate is in gf" is just a mood haha

THE SHIPMENT PARALLELS! the sounds, grabbing his hand this time when he had to take hers during his shipment AHHH-

.

. other random things I didn’t like

why is Norman not taking the GF kids to his location I am confusion. MAYBE the room they're in (the building just looks like that room and the basement stuff but idk) wouldn't be big enough to comfortably live there or maybe he's too absorbed and doesn't want his siblings to find out about their seizures (which would be more likely to happen if they lived around him) and his brutal experiments (they do always somehow find every little thing in a place haha), but I feel like taking them there would still be better overall. He literally has no way of knowing if something does happen to them. I guess it could be argued he trusts them enough to be able to handle it, but if he's doing it all for them (and probably some trauma to be honest), he definitely should be more concerned and have brought them or at least let one of the lambda kids stay with them.

My friends and I literally everytime they left for food, we already were like "great, leave the kids alone". I feel like in that case it's going a bit for the whole "putting trust in each other" angle but I still feel it's kind of questionable to leave them on their own too.

Overall, I think things add up but I think that’s bc I’m a) very forgiving and b) often just slap a somewhat likely/good-will explanation on things and accept that for now. It’s good for my enjoyment but it might make me seem delusional but I DO THINK that i shouldn’t have to read between the lines this much for the non-mystery elements.

the deal makes no sense from Emma’s POV, what’s her goal? Hoping Mujika’s intel and knowledge about demon society will be of help and convince Norman not to do it? but she already made it a condition to not annihilate the demons if she brings them, so I guess she just wants to give her plan a chance - but I’m not sure what she thinks Norman would see in that plan. I guess he wants to kill them because they’re unpredictable, but if he was to hold his word, their unpredictable nature wouldn’t matter since he can’t annihilate the demons anymore anyway based on his agreement (which he intends to break of course but LIKE FROM EMMA’S PERSPECTIVE. BABY WHAT YOU DOING).

.

So yeah... I’m definitely enjoying the ride. I can see its faults, i’m not delusional, but the base elements are interesting to think about and coming up with some explanations that make sense is also fun - though I wish there was a bit more canon ground / “connecting the dots” experience to it.

I hope I can continue to have fun with the show until it ends, at the very least. Content is content, I’m to tpn-brain-rotted pfff-

[witchykincare]

Aa I never saw you answered my ask, revivedbur here!! I just wanted to let you know the confusion was cause you said actors were fine so dw!! I know roleplay can toe the line for a lot of people and I get that it makes some uncomfortable, I hope you have a good day!! :] your blog is super funky and you have top tier care kits!!

I'm sorry for causing confusion, I'll try to find a better way to word it! also thank you so much the kind words!! 💜💜

I'm gonna try to clarify my stance on all this though, so hopefully that'll help?

Note: this turned out to be uhh a lot longer than I planned oops, so there's a tl;dr at the bottom for folks who need it.

(Also I wanna preface this by saying there's nothing wrong with having self inserts in roleplay/writing/etc so nobody takes this the wrong way- gods know I've done it myself numerous times lol.)

Actors playing characters, specifically, is listed as something I'm okay with because character A as played by the actor Bobson Dugnutt is obviously not Bobson Dugnutt, it just means some people's concept of character A is going to look like Bobson Dugnutt.

And I'm okay with tabletop RPG-based things like Critical Role for similar reasons.

But with a lot of streamer/Youtuber RP stuff I've seen, there's a lot of cases where the character looks like them (or their avatar), is named after them, has more or less the same personality at least out of the gate, and is in general straight up supposed to be representation of them in universe.

I personally feel (because this is all very subjective and other people may very well feel differently) that that's a self insert as opposed to playing a separate character, and again, there's nothing at all wrong with that but that's the point where I feel like it switches into the territory of real person alter ego for me.

Tl;dr: a lot of self inserts blur the line between player and character enough that I feel they're more like alter egos, and that's why I'm uncomfy.

Hope that explains where I'm coming from a bit better!

[bluepenguinstories]

Remoras Full Chapter XXXIX: Nun the Wiser

Through the still silence and the lack of temperature (despite its location geographically, inside the fog was a feeling of neither warmth nor frozen cold, but just dead air) within the mist-filled landscape I made my way into hell. As if a lighthouse beacon, the orange glow inside of the diner could be seen, even as a faint glimmer from afar. There were strips of lighting, meant as a sort of walkway, but the destination meant more to me than the journey. After all, the journey was a torturous undertaking.

Three knocks: no answer.

Foreboding already. Should I have expected anything less?

When I fled from the convent, I didn’t know what I would expect. All I heard were rumors of a lone restaurant, buried out in the depths of this accursed omen that I could take shelter in. What happened back in that convent that I was forced to flee? Have I committed some horrible crime against the church? Was I excommunicated? Or was it that my former home had been destroyed, forever set ablaze by the darkness in men’s hearts and as such, I could no longer return, as I no longer had a home to return to?

No. I wouldn’t speak a word of it. I’ve made my vows and henceforth, there would be not another word on the subject.

Whether or not my presence was welcome, I pushed open the door with my delicate and frail hands. It crept slow and a credible creaking sound followed. As I awaited the chaos that followed, light leaked through and shone almost as bright as heaven itself (oh, the irony). Once the light faded, lost in the abyss which surrounded me, I was face to face with a crowd of sick and dying alike. Injured and scared, people all huddled together en masse.

However, through all of that, there was an air of perseverance: food was brought to everyone’s table by a young girl with snowy hair. Commotion could be heard in the kitchen from afar, even with all the wails and conversation of the crowded dining hall: sounds of pots and pans clattering and clanging, hisses and searing of oil, meats, and vegetables. Its aroma permeated throughout the air and I allowed myself a sniff.

I walked through the dining area, as if aimless and without a purpose. Of course, I wasn’t without aim, but I had to appear as such until the right person showed up. Seeing as I didn’t know what the right person looked like yet...I may as well have been without aim.

Soon enough through my wander and best attempts not to be swayed by the delicious aromas set at each table, someone took notice of me and sauntered up to me: a tall and radiant black beauty. Her smile beamed with such a brightness that I was sure that through all the darkness in this world, she must have been a source of light.

“Heya. I take it you’ve come seeking shelter?” She squatted down and leaned her face close against mine. As welcoming as she was, I had to back away, for fear of her noticing anything in particular about my face. Let it be known that I was more than a little bit self-conscious. That even with my mouth and the top of my head covered by cloth, that there would be something seen about me that would be deemed revealing.

Once I backed away one step, I gave a single nod in return.

“Well, go ahead and seat yourself wherever you like. There’s not a lot of room, so you might have to huddle up next to someone,” she informed me.

While I appreciated the offer and should have been grateful with just that, I couldn’t bear to just sit tight and wait for a meal. Not only that, but I wasn’t about to remove the cloth from over my mouth. If I were to do that, then others could see my lips. Even something as simple as that…

So I produced a notepad and a pen from one of the pockets of my black habit and wrote down a note, then handed it to her.

“Oh? What’s this?” She scanned her eyes across the paper and had a look of delight on her face. Afterward, however, she scratched the back of her head and gave a sort of confused face of distress.

“Wait right here. I’ll get my husband.”

I nodded, and was once again left alone in the aisle between the despondent people. I took quick glances, little notes of the demographics: all adults, luckily. No child should have to deal with such hellish circumstances. Though...there was the white haired child, delivering plates to tables and asking around. What was her deal, her story? What was it that brought her to such a place?

“Is the menu visible for you?” She asked one of the guests, a flat brown haired young man in a puffy vest and jeans.

“Don’t you mean ‘have you had time to look at the menu’?”

She looked down and smiled, then shook her head.

“Yes, but I imagine it only takes a second to look at something, so long as it is visible to you. Amen.”

Is she supposed to be the waitress here? If so, she doesn’t seem to have this whole ‘hospitality’ thing down. Then again, she is a child, so maybe the others go easy on you.

“Oh, Astraea. I can never be mad at you. You still have much to learn,” he waved the waitress off.

“Yes. I do. So, are you interested in eating food?” She asked, again, her voice remained soft and polite.

Well, she’s got the kind part down. Hopefully all of the refugees are as nice to her as that young man. At the very least, it seems they’re all familiar with her. Damn, though. I was really hoping that I could work as a waitress here.

“Yeah, I think I’d like mashed potatoes with biscuits and gravy,” the young man replied.

“Those are interesting foods to eat. I will let the head chef know,” she informed him.

“Thank you, Astraea.”

“You’re welcome, Olivier.”

She then spun around in place, then ran off.

“Star power!” She cried out in a sugary sweet voice as she ran toward the kitchen.

“Astraea. How many times do I have to tell you not to run in the dining room? You could slip and fall, not to mention drop someone’s order,” scolded an older man who sounded exhausted.

I faced forward to see him: a gaunt looking man with jet unkempt hair which almost covered his eyes, and they would, too, if not for the glasses he wore. His eyes had a dull, hazy look to them and there were bags underneath. Despite such a despairing air about him, his attire was far more dignified and sharp dressed: an ironed-out tuxedo and slacks, with white gloves covering his hands.

He approached me, then stopped and pulled out the paper that I handed to the beautiful woman, who, by coincidence, stood beside him.

Ah. So he must be the husband.

“So let me see…” He held up the paper close to his face. “Your name is Sister Cecilia. You’ve taken a vow of silence, and you’re a nun who was exiled from her convent. You came here seeking shelter and would like to help out any way you can. Did I get all that?”

I nodded. There was more that I would like to add, but everything had its place.

“Isn’t she cute, hun? I don’t think we’ve had a nun show up here before,” the wife commented.

Am I some kind of spectacle?

“Trust me, they’re not all that interesting. No offense,” he focused his gaze on me.

“None taken,” I wrote down. He leaned over and peered at what I had written.

“So that’s how you communicate, huh?”

I nodded.

“Well, you should consider making your words bigger. Some of us, myself included, would have a hard time reading anything so small.”

Again, I nodded. It was sound advice, and something which I hadn’t considered.

He drew an exasperated breath, then shook his head.

“Anyway, we’ve no need for sermons. I don’t think prayers will help our situation.”

“She could provide moral support,” the wife suggested, “besides, a few of the folks here are Christian, so she could entertain them.”

‘Entertain’? Is that the right word there?

“Nuns provide more than just prayer,” I scrawled the words down, then added, “it’s customary for a sister to go out and help out in the community.”

He looked around the dining room, then back at me.

“This is a community, yes, but by necessity, not by choice. You may take shelter here, but I have no work for you.”

“Oh, come on, Ray! You know we can use all the help we can get!” Ray’s wife nudged him.

“You can give her a task, then,” he groaned, “but I’m telling you, between you, I, Tigershark, Aurora, and Astraea, we’ve got most things covered. Not to mention whenever Wendy shows up, she takes some of these folks back to their homes. Anyone else would just be overkill.”

I then watched as he walked off toward the back of the diner. His wife, however, remained in front of me.

“Sorry about that, Sister. He used to be a lot more cheerful. Ray Sunshine, they’d call him. ‘Cause that’s his name, but also because he used to be more of a ray of sunshine.”

“I understand his disposition, given what lies outside,” I wrote down, big enough so she could see (heeding Ray’s advice) and held it up to her.

“Yeah...it’s not pleasant. He and I have both gotten our fair share of injuries out there. Of course, we’re used to the environment being extreme, but usually it’s because of blizzards or intense chill. This is different, though. Anyway, not to worry, I’m still Sunny! Nice to meet you!”

She held out her hand and I deliberated on whether or not to shake it. In the end, I extended my hand as well and took hers.

To my knowledge, there’s nothing she can infer about me from my hand.

She squeezed my hand and I squeezed back to meet her grip in turn.

“Oh wow, Sister. You have a firm grip,” Sunny observed.

I nodded. When she let go, I pulled out my pen and my notepad.

“As do you,” I wrote down.

“Ha! I have a feeling you and I will get along just fine, Sister Cecilia. I happen to have a thing for ladies with firm grips.”

I’m confused, but I’m going to assume that was a compliment.

“Thank you. You truly are a light in these dark times,” I wrote down.

“Oh my, you flatter me. If I wasn’t already married, I’d consider going out with you.”

Would you be saying such things if you knew who I was?

It was hard to tell whether or not she was serious, but I took it as a serious statement all the same.

“Need I remind you, I’m a nun,” I wrote down, slow and deliberate, emboldened so that she knew my words were serious. “We’re celibate and have taken a vow not to enter into any relationships, unless it be with God.”

Even then, hard to have a relationship with something that doesn’t exist.

“Aw, I forgot! Guess I’ll just have to admire you in my thoughts.”

I swear. If she ever finds out who I am under this saintly image, she’d change her tune real fast.

“Anyway…” she looked around with a precocious and carefree expression, “I’ve got it! You can be a hostess!”

“What is that?” I tilted my head and wrote down. I knew of a waitress, and a hostess sounded like the same thing. Which, to me, was a little redundant.

“Simple: you’d stand by the door and greet anyone who comes in. Then you’d direct people to their seats and let them know that you’ll bring the waitress to see them. Think you can do that?”

Really? Was that it? It seemed...too simple. Minimal effort. That, and “greeting people”? By holding up signs that said “welcome in”? Well, I couldn’t complain. If that’s what she had in mind, then I’d take whatever position I could get. It’s just…

“I imagine people don’t come by very often,” I wrote down so that I could address a flaw in Sunny’s proposal.

“Yeah, you got me there! Well, members of Aurora’s crew like to come in and out, since we share our food with them, so I’d say that should keep you somewhat busy. But yeah, I see your point. So...hmm...maybe...oh! You could help out Astraea, our waitress? See, she’s pretty friendly, but she can get a little confused at times, and she may need a little extra help as a waitress.”

I pointed my left thumb in the direction of the wandering child waitress.

“Mm-hmm! That’s her!”

Thank goodness. I can finally put my customer service experience to good use.

“I’ll do my best,” I wrote to Sunny.

“I’m sure you’ll do fine, hun!” She held up a thumb and smiled wide. She really was, by all accounts, radiant.

In the midst of our conversation, I failed to notice Astraea, the waitress in question herself, approach us.

“Hello, Sunny. Might this be another human that eats?” Astraea asked in a wispy voice.

“Yes, dear. This is Sister Cecilia. She is a nun,” Sunny explained to her.

“A nothing? But how can she be a nothing if she is something?” Astraea tilted her head.

“Not nothing, n-u-n, nun. They’re a type of religious folk.”

“I don’t know what that is. Are nuns human?”

Are nuns...excuse me?

In a fit of confusion, I scribbled down just one word:

“What?”

And held it up, first showing Sunny, then Astraea.

“Those are some interesting symbols,” Astraea pointed to the sheet of paper I held out.

“That’s a word,” Sunny explained, “because she’s taken a vow of silence, she writes down whatever she wants to say and has people read it out.”

“Vow of silence? How did she make a vow if she can’t speak?”

Sunny chuckled.

“I’m pretty sure she can speak. She probably spoke plenty before she took that vow. It’s just after that vow that she stopped speaking. Am I right, Sister Cecilia?”

I nodded.

More or less.

“I see. How interesting. I may have some difficulties holding conversations with her, but I am willing to try. Amen,” Astraea replied to Sunny, then returned to her waitress duties.

“As you can see, she’s a little confused, but she’s got the spirit,” Sunny assured me.

From what little I saw of her, I was inclined to agree. However, what that ‘spirit’ in question was, I had no idea.

Either way, I have a strange feeling around her. Like she knows more than she lets on. Or that she’s not all that she seems. I don’t know where that feeling comes from, yet I am unable to deny it all the same.

“So, before I let you go, Sister, is there anything else I can help you with?” Sunny asked.

I nodded, then jotted down my question:

“Where may I rest?”

Sunny gave a nervous chuckle.

“Anywhere you like. There’s not a lot of space, but anywhere you can find is good enough. Just don’t sleep in one of the restrooms, as I’m sure the others wouldn’t like that too much.”

Nor would I like sleeping in a restroom, either. Although I would like to eat in one of them, that way I have at least the smallest morsel of privacy whilst I eat. Under no circumstances should I let others see my mouth, as it would be far too revealing.

On the subject of privacy, I let my worldly desires get the better of me, as I wrote down a request:

“I would like a room to myself.”

Sunny hung her head low. It still wasn’t the dejected atmosphere which Ray held, but it was all the same, a look of disappointment.

“Sorry, Sister. There’s a lot of people and not a lot of space. I would if I could, but circumstances are dire and resources are already tight.”

Of course. I should have known better than to have made such a request.

“I understand,” I wrote out, “I’ll be fine with any room, then.”

“Hmm...there’s a room in the back. You’d still be sharing it with a couple of other people, but I can roll out a futon bed for you to sleep on, as I’m sure you wouldn’t want to share a bed with two other people.”

Yeah. No. Most definitely I did not want to.

“I can also roll out a sleeping bag, air mattress, take your pick.”

“Futon is fine,” I wrote down.

“Good! It’s in the back, down the hall, to your left when you walk in. Mine and Ray’s room is upstairs. Tigershark and Astraea share a room at the other end of the hall, so if you ever wanna visit them when they’re not busy, feel free.”

If I recall, Ray mentioned Tigershark being the head chef. That was, to say the least, an interesting name. Not to borrow one of Astraea’s words, but it was just the truth.

After Sunny explained all that, she too left and headed toward the back of the restaurant/shelter.

I’ve now been acquainted with almost all the staff here. That just leaves folks like Tigershark, Aurora, and Wendy. But if I had to choose, I’d say that Tigershark is the one I’m most interested in meeting next.

As if a prayer were answered, I heard a yell come from the kitchen. Gruff, yet shrill in its timbre.

“Order up!” Roared the voice of the head chef, and it sounded like the voice of a child.

Wait. You don’t mean…the head chef, too…?

My eyes followed the movements of Astraea as she strolled from one end of the dining area and into the kitchen door. Then, a few seconds later, she walked out with a plate and a glass of water in hand. On the plate was a dish of shrimp risotto and two gyoza rolls.

How...peculiar.

In tandem with the plate and glass being set down at one of the tables, the door to the kitchen burst open and out from it was a muscular young girl with red hair and orange streaks in the style of a pageboy haircut. She wore an apron with what appeared to be denim overalls underneath, and underneath those overalls was a long sleeved blue and gold striped T-shirt. Tight-laced leather boots topped off her attire, and if there were any more details to take note of, I didn’t have much of a chance to observe, as she darted toward me.

“Hello!” She beamed. “Are you new here? My name’s Tigershark!”

I nodded, then wrote down the same thing I wrote for Ray. I handed Tigershark the sheet of paper and her eyes scanned across the page.

“Oh wow! I’ve never met a real life nun before! I think Ray told me about them once.”

Astraea soon joined beside Tigershark.

“Look, Tigershark, isn’t this an interesting human?” Astraea pointed me out.

“Yes, she is! She’s a nun! I’ve heard about them before, but never seen them!”

Astraea looked down and smiled.

“I still don’t know what a nun is,” her assured statement made it seem like she was content not knowing, yet it seemed quite the opposite.

“They’re like how you say amen a lot, but with them, it’s their job!” Tigershark explained, in what may have been the simplest and least accurate of ways.

“Does that mean that they get paid for it?” Astraea put her finger on her chin and wondered.

“No,” I wrote down.

“What does that say?” Astraea looked at the paper.

“It says ‘no’. Like, she doesn’t get paid, I guess?”

I nodded. Correct.

Tigershark held out her hand. Same game as Sunny, I suppose. I took it and shook, and to my surprise, Tigershark’s grip was also very tight.

Then again, much like Sunny, Tigershark has quite muscular arms.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Sister Cecilia!”

When she let go, I wrote down:

“You as well. You’re almost as tall as me.”

It was true; although if I had to guess, she was about 137 centimeters, she was still what I would consider tall for a child, and as for me...let’s just say there was a reason I wore heels. As uncomfortable as they were on my feet, with them on, I was 154 centimeters, and appeared just tall enough that I didn’t have to be so self-conscious about my height.

“Really? Well, Ray says I’m growing fast, and I’m almost 11! I’ll have my 11th birthday in a few weeks, and then in a few months after that, I’ll be 11 for real! I’m just not sure about the exact day!”

That was...confusing. Did she not know her own birthday? In any case, the thing I was most shocked about was the idea that she still had more growing to do. I feared for the day in which she outgrew me. Me, a grown adult woman.

“When it’s Tigershark’s 11th birthday, it will be mine as well,” declared Astraea. “We decided it last year. I will also be 11 because I recently learned that I am not 19 but in fact, Tigershark’s age, due to the fact that some of my years weren’t actually a year long.”

Again: what?

For the remainder of the day, I shadowed Astraea and made sure she did all that was expected of her. I’d often find myself writing down apologies to the guests and asking for their patience, although by the look of things, they were more or less used to her. Not long after, I turned in for the night in the room which Sunny had directed me to.

Inside were two other people, just as I was told there would be: one, a balding man with a tank-top on, an inappropriate attire for the type of environment we were in (or, I would say that, except the fog has negated any sense of ‘cold’ or ‘warm’ altogether) with cuts and bruises all over his arms, chest, and face. He drew labored breaths as he lay on the bed in what looked to be a cold sweat. As red as his cuts were, and as purple as the bruises were, at least it seemed that none of his wounds were open.

He must have only come here recently, I noted.

Knelt down on the floor beside the bed, was a woman, with brunette hair tied in a bun and wearing a thick, brown overcoat. She too had scratches on her face, like claw marks, and her overcoat itself was torn up, almost in tatters. Neither of them looked in great shape, yet the kindest thing I could say was that they would live. They had each other for comfort and that had to count for something. That was more than I could say about myself; what could I offer them? Empty prayers. Such things would have done them no good.

Despite my request for a room, I nevertheless felt like an intruder to those people. They didn’t acknowledge my existence as they were too preoccupied with their own predicament. All the better. Even in a superficial sense, I’d love nothing more than to have been left alone.

So I walked past them and laid myself down on the futon next to the dresser. I curled my legs and removed my high-heeled shoes. I’d be damned if I didn’t have some bruises and calluses from wearing them for so long. Those things were a punishment far greater than any of my sins. Yet wear them, I had to, for the sake of appearance.

Being who I was, I had to throw away any notion of ‘comfort’ for the sake of appearance. There was little comfort in my attire, especially given my blasphemous thoughts. Some folks held faith in a higher power, others were comfortable with having faith in humanity; I had neither. We were all cruel creatures of desire who both suffered and inflicted suffering upon others. We created deities as scapegoats to pawn our problems off on, we –

No, I had to stop before it spiraled further. Such thoughts were a bad habit, and within the pockets of my bad habit were notepads and pens, an endless amount of papers as a means of communication. Beside that was a means of protection, one which I hoped I wouldn’t have to present. At least not yet.

What am I doing, dressing up like some holy woman? How long am I going to keep up this act? I hold nothing sacred, nothing holy. I devote myself to no one and nothing, but act with self-preservation. So when will I present myself as a faithless, faceless mannequin like I really am? Or as a mannequin, am I meant to be dressed up to play a role, put myself on display, and pass by without a second’s thought.

My eyes shut. Soon I was on my back, and although I knew little rest would come, I still tried to bring myself to some semblance of respite.

I had a dream about bells. Church bells or school bells, couldn’t tell. That I had any dream at all was a miracle, as I wasn’t one to remember many of my dreams. That, and sleep seldom came to me. But there I was, sat up on the floor, and the bells still rung in my ear.

“SISTER CECILIA!” Roared the voice of Ray from afar. Such a vocal force vibrated through my skin and past my ribs, reverberated past my heart and out the other end.

Who?

“SISTER CECILIA!” Again, those two words, harsher, more urgent.

Oh, right. That’s me. The bell tolls for me.

I rushed to my feet and held up my veil, making sure that the coif was on tight. The last thing I wanted to happen was for the hood to fall and for the others to see my hair. That would have been too much to handle, especially on the first night of being here.

Once I had it all straight and fastened, I darted out the door to the room, down the hall, and into the dining area where I saw Ray and Sunny side by side with the front door swung open. There was a howling, malevolent force outside. Not a gust of wind, but a shriek and a growl, some inhuman and near-inaudible sound. In front of them, between the hinges of the unknown gray outside and the discomforting familiarity inside was a skinny, near-emaciated looking shirtless man. He coughed, gagged, sputtered and blood ran from his mouth. Gashes surrounded his torso and I had a hard time imagining that he would live at all.

“Don’t just stand there! Help us out!” Ray turned to me.

But while I should have helped, something else compelled me to stay where I was. Something, or perhaps, someone else: Astraea.

She stood off to my side, to my right, next to one of the booths. She too stood in place, and had a look of concern about her. But it wasn’t a concern that you or I might have had for someone sick. No, it was a sense of confusion, instead.

“Why are you helping that human up?” Astraea asked, in much the way a child might ask why the sky was blue.

“Because he’s hurt,” Sunny replied.

“Why is he hurt?”

“Because of what’s outside?”

“Why? What’s outside?”

“We don’t know,” it was Ray’s turn to answer.

“Why don’t you know?”

“We just don’t!” He snapped. That did not deter her.

“But why? Why can’t you tell? Why can’t it be bears, wolves, a blizzard? Why is he hurt at all? Why do people get hurt? Why are people hurt when they come here? Why does pain exist? Why –”

She. Just. Kept. Going. On.

I’ve always hated it, that word: Why? It was like when we’re young, that’s all we ask, and we expect an answer, but then when we get an answer, we’re just left with more questions, and no matter how much it’s broken down, there’s always going to be more questions until it all becomes pointless. Doubt is healthy, necessary, even, but do we all have to know the reason for every little thing?

“Astraea, go back to bed, honey,” Sunny urged.

“Why should I? Why can’t I know? Why can’t you know?”

Why won’t it stop? Was my own question. I was ready to put my hands over my ears and cover them up, open my mouth, scream, reveal my voice, have everything come crashing –

“Stop! Just stop!” I wanted so bad to yell that out.

– But I was saved by the cross tone of Ray Sunshine.

“Damn it! Sister Cecilia, are you going to do your job and help us out?!”

That snapped me out of any possible trance I was in and I rushed to their aide. I helped the poor man up and led him to an empty space at one of the booths. He moaned and wheezed and bobbed his head. There was a part of me which didn’t expect him to make it, that he would drop dead, before I even got him to take his seat.

But lo and behold, he did. He looked miserable, in tears, but he too, I would have to hope, would survive.

“I’ll bring you a glass of water. The waitress will be with you shortly,” I wrote down on my notepad and held it up to him. He squinted at it with a blurred vision, then looked up at me and nodded.

I began to walk up to Astraea, but Ray intercepted me.

“I’ll take it from here. You should get some rest,” he placed a hand on her shoulder and instructed.

“Thank you,” she replied. “So I shall. But please ask the man why he was hurt for me,” she requested. Ray glanced back to where I had placed the man, and it was like he was ready to roll his eyes. Instead of that, however, he turned back to Astraea.

“Will do.”

At the same time Astraea walked away, Ray walked past me, in the direction of the new guest.

“He’ll tell me the same thing they’ve all told me. He doesn’t know why he’s hurt any more than I do, but he knows his pain is real,” he muttered to himself, a grim sense of futility in his voice.

“Ray, let me help you,” Sunny pleaded. “I’ll bring the food out.”

“Do as you like,” he gave a dismissive reply.

As for me, I thought that was all I was needed for, that I too would head back into my room. But I kept my word. I walked off into the kitchen and filled up a glass of water. When I returned to the table, I set it down. Ray was still there, and he glanced at me.

“I could have done that myself,” he groaned.

Don’t give me that bullshit, I was ready to snarl, myself, just not out loud.

“But you didn’t have to,” I wrote down instead. Tact. It was as important in that hellscape as it ever was anywhere else.

He could have put up a fuss, but he looked at me for a few seconds longer, first his eyes showed scorn, then they shifted to a reluctant show of surrender. It was that shift which caused him to stand back up and wave his hand up.

“I’m going to make him a warm meal,” he called back to me, “you’re free to go back to bed until the next person arrives, or until morning. Sunny and I can handle this.”

As enticing as the offer of rest was, I followed him into the kitchen and wrote down.

“I can still help,” I showed the words to him.

“Yeah? What can you do?” His cold dismissal returned again. That time, I was stumped. There was no rebuttal I could have, but it felt wrong to just walk away, either.

“Well? Anything?” He pressed on.

I still had no answer and it dug deeper into me.

At last, he let out a sigh.

“Here: get out the eggs, flour, anything else I need, while I cook, OK?” He conceded. As someone who normally didn’t like work, let alone being told what to do, I was somewhat elated that he allowed me to help him in any way at all.

That was but the first night, in early August. Ever since then, there had been little progress in the way of the situation outside, or inside. Ray and Sunny gave the residents what little medical attention they knew to give. Ray was still the same self I witnessed upon my initial entry, but at least as the days passed, he acknowledged my presence. It wasn’t really progress, but it was something. Maybe all that I could hope for.

Each time someone entered, the bell would ring above the door, and I would assist whatever victim or passerby of the fog happened to cross the threshold into our domain. Some people’s injuries were worse than others. Sometimes, there were few injuries at all, and all I had to do was greet them and point them out to their table. Those were the lucky ones. I too was lucky, as when I first entered, the furthest I felt was an oppressive feeling that I was surrounded and eyes were on me in every direction.

Sometimes people carried with them the mindset of a customer, and not some desperate soul seeking shelter. That despite what horrible ordeals they’ve had to endure, they retained their entitled attitude. Those were the worst. Men, women, whoever. Young and old and anywhere in between. It didn’t matter. They were all a grating nightmare.

“Welcome in,” were the two words I would hold up on a sheet of paper when someone entered.

“Why howdy, ma’am!” Entered a burly middle-aged man in a cowboy hat and ultra thick mustache.

“Allow me to show you to your seat,” I held up the next sheet of paper. It had become a routine, and it was fine enough, I served a purpose, just as I wanted to. But damn, at times it could be boring.

“Why won’t you talk, little lady?” He asked instead. I had the most primal urge to growl, but I suppressed it.

“I’ve taken a vow of silence,” I wrote down.

“Aw, but I’m sure you have a lovely voice. And what’s with that cloth over your mouth? Got a cold or something? How am I going to see your lovely smile?” His voice was condescending, coy and playful. Absolutely disgusting.

I stomped down on his boot, so hard that despite the hardened leather that he wore, he felt every ounce of my disgust.

“Owww!” He wailed, raised his leg and held his foot in his hands, “damn you, little lady.”

Too late. I’m already damned.

“Now. Right this way,” I wrote down and although reluctant, he nodded, tears in his eyes, and followed me. When I found an open seat, toward the back wall of the dining hall, he looked at me with scorn in his eyes. But he was free to feel however he wanted. I was done with him.

I walked over to Astraea, who had just finished setting down a plate at another table. I poked her shoulder, then pointed in the direction of the nosy man with the unbearable mustache.

“Thank you, Sister Cecilia. Amen,” she replied, as she did. Beside her, was a customer, a puffy blonde haired woman with a rosary around her neck.

“Oh, how wonderful! We have two devout Christians!” Proclaimed the lady.

Wrong on both counts.

“I don’t know what that is,” answered Astraea.

“Don’t you believe in God just as well as I do?”

“I don’t know of any gods.”

“But you should! My faith in Him moves mountains.”

“How?”

“Well, it’s just that strong.”

“Interesting. My faith moves my own two feet.”

“So you have faith? But what do you have faith in?”

Astraea smiled. Truth be told, I worried for her. She bore no ill words toward anyone, yet those ultra-religious types were so easy to set off. Like a firecracker.

“I have faith in what interests me, and there are so many interesting things in this world.”

“That’s all well and good, but you should know what it means to pray! I insist we have a prayer circle once we’re not busy.”

“Why?”

“Because! It would be good for you!”

Astraea walked away, not giving her an answer, yet she continued to show off that kind smile of hers.

“Humans are so interesting,” she remarked.

I followed her. What else was I to do?

Yes, when it came to a monotheistic deity, especially of the Christian variety, I had no such beliefs. It was that fact which made my very existence as a nun a farce. Even as far back as when I was young, I didn’t believe in the existence of some higher power. Despite my pessimism and bitter attitude, it had nothing to do with “if a benevolent God exists, why is there still suffering in the world?” Because as far as I could tell, suffering would find a way regardless of how all-powerful something was.

No, it just had to do with the fact that it made no sense to me. To put such a thing in such a high regard when at best, a celestial entity like that would look at us humans with indifference. After all, did we ponder the daily lives of bacteria? Wonder about the complexity in such small organisms? Even if we did, we didn’t shed tears over them, and our concern only extended to how much it affected us. So why put so much stock, so much worship, into something that even if it existed, didn’t care about us one iota?

Not only that, but why “He”? Why not “She”? Why “heavenly father”? Hell, why any gender at all? If those beings were such all-powerful entities, why would they need to be identified with a man, a woman, anything? Weren’t they above that?

There were so many imperfections which denoted a human, not a divine, origin. For all that talk of a creator, such a thing was at its core, a creation. At least I could have some respect for the religions with many deities. They didn’t hide or deny the human elements of their gods.

Of course, there was but one more aspect: proof. There was none one way or another. For all we knew, there could and there couldn’t be something out there, far off in the cosmos. But we had no way to tell, so why put stock into something which may not even be there at all? It just didn’t make sense, and I didn’t have the patience like Astraea to ask an endless barrage of “why?” Or “how?” As it stood, if there was some celestial being among us, how would such a thing present itself? What pronouns would they prefer?

“She’s such a wonderful girl, isn’t she?” One guest remarked about Astraea.

I shrugged my shoulders. Her words and actions often left me in confusion. Maybe that in itself was “wonderful”, just a different connotation of the word.

When all of the food was served, Tigershark ran out from the kitchen.

“Another meal was a success!” She stretched out her arm and held up her thumb.

“Good job, Tigershark,” Astraea gave Tigershark a pat upon her head.

Things soon went south: a few tables down, someone began to gag, then throw up. All three of us ran toward their table. It was a young woman, thin and shaking in her seat.

“Oh no! I swear, I cooked it all well!” Tigershark pouted, then reached over and wiped the woman’s mouth.

“What did she just do?” Astraea asked.

“She threw up,” Tigershark informed her.

Have you never seen someone throw up before?

“Sorry,” uttered the woman’s aching voice, “I think I was just so hungry I ate it too fast and...urp.”

“So you throw up when you eat too fast?” Astraea wondered.

“Kinda. Lots of things can do it. You can eat too much, or eat something that doesn’t taste good, or sometimes tummy’s just mean,” Tigershark elaborated.

“I see. Excuse me, then,” Astraea stated, looked down and smiled, then walked toward one of the restrooms.

Don’t tell me…

I followed her. It could have been nothing, but...who was I kidding? Was it ever ‘nothing’ with that child?

She left the door to the single stall restroom open and I saw her in front of the toilet’s seat, retching, and soon black bile emitted from out of her mouth. It looked unreal, and among the stream of vomit, there was blood and what looked like discarded chunks of flesh. It made me want to retch, at the very least look away, but something compelled me not to. Toward the very end, I even thought I saw small limbs, like arms and legs, and even branches off of trees billowing out. I blinked, and she was done.

“Are you OK?” I wrote down. She looked over to me and wiped her mouth.

“Sorry you saw that,” Astraea answered instead with a strained moan. She wiped her mouth, and I walked over to her, then saw that there were no such grotesque things like I had imagined. I was more baffled that for a moment, I even considered such imagery. She flushed the toilet, then walked past me and splashed some water on her face in the sink. After, she washed her hands and while ignoring what I wrote down, turned to me.

“That was most unpleasant. Yes. Why do people eat if that can happen? I do wonder,” she mused to herself, then walked past me.

For what it was worth, her face looked spotless and after that whole ordeal was done, she seemed fine. Like it was just an afterthought.

“Astraea! Are you okay?” Tigershark ran up to her as we exited the restroom.

“Yes, my friend. I must have just gone so long eating and not disposing of the food that I had too much within me.”

“Make sure you pee and poop sometimes!” Tigershark urged.

“I will take care to do so, thank you.”

Just a few hours later, the five of us gathered for a “prayer circle” – Ray, Sunny, Tigershark, Astraea, and I. None of us wanted to be there. Well, maybe Sunny did, mostly just for fun. Tigershark and Astraea did, as well, but more out of a sense of curiosity. So I guess that just left Ray and I.

“I really don’t think this is necessary,” Ray scoffed at the idea when the woman presented it.

“Aw, please, Ray, won’t you indulge me?”

“This could be fun,” Sunny added, “and if nothing else, it’ll give us both a break from all the hardship.”

Ray let out a dejected sigh.

“Fine. Let’s get this over with.”

We all sat in the circle, and by coincidence, I sat beside Astraea.

Good. There’s just too many things about her that don’t add up. Maybe while everyone is distracted in prayer, I can find out the answer for myself.

“Oh, heavenly father, thank you for this meal –” The woman began, and everyone closed their eyes. I opened them soon after, though, and scribbled down a few words on a torn scrap of paper.

“What are you, really?” I passed the paper to her. She opened her eyes and noticed it, then replied:

“I don’t know how to read. Amen.”

“Amen,” everyone else echoed soon after. If not for the group prayer ending, I would have thought that Astraea had everyone in a trance.

“Thank you-know-what that’s over,” Ray exclaimed, then got up out of his seat.

“What were you two talking about?” Tigershark turned to Astraea and I.

“She wrote something for me, but I don’t know how to read,” Astraea explained.

This is embarrassing, I couldn’t help but think to myself.

Tigershark took the scrap of paper.

“Oh, she was asking you what you are,” Tigershark explained.

“Twinkle, twinkle little star...I am a waitress,” Astraea answered.

“There you have it, Sister Cecilia,” Tigershark turned to me, then back to Astraea. “By the way, would you like me to teach you how to read?”

“Yes please. Amen.”

I shook my head. I learned nothing, save for the fact that Astraea couldn’t read. But was that even the truth, or was that just something she told me? Oh, I didn’t know what I was going on about anymore. It was useless to wonder about things which held no purpose.

When we all dispersed, I was ready to resume my duties as a hostess, but Tigershark came up to me and jumped up and down.

“Yes?” I wrote down before turning around.

“My birthday’s coming up! Well, it won’t be my actual birthday, but I’ll be celebrating it in a few days, because that’s when I celebrated it last year. Ray said that we can’t do much because of the thing outside, but he’ll still make me a cake and sing to me. Will you be there too?”

I didn’t see much of a choice in the matter. Where else would I go?

“Yes,” I jotted down my simple answer.

“Thank you! I know it’s in your name, but I want you to know that I like you like an actual sister!”

It was strange, but I found it a sweet gesture, nonetheless.

“I like you too :)” I wrote down.

While in reality, I wasn’t a fan of children by any stretch, I felt it necessary to show kindness to them above all. Especially in this context, where outside of the domain of the diner was too dangerous. I didn’t feel this was any place for a child, and I would stand by that, but since she was already there, much like Ray must have felt, I needed to make sure she felt as happy as if there were no problems outside.

“I’m so glad! I had another sister named Demetria, but she’s not here anymore. I really miss her. Her birthday is a few days after mine and I wish she were here so I could tell her happy birthday.”

That struck me somehow. I didn’t know who such a person was, but she must have been important to Tigershark in some capacity.

“I see. I’m sure she misses you too,” I wrote my reply, unsure if that was actually the truth. There was no real way to tell, as I didn’t know who she was.

“Thanks. She used to live in the room you sleep in now, back before all these people were here. I liked to tease her and prank her, but I can’t do that anymore since she’s not here.”

Ha. I couldn’t imagine anyone missing being pranked, but I could tell her feelings about her supposed sister was still genuine.

“I hope you can see her again someday,” I wrote down before going on my way.

“I hope so too! I’m sure you’d like her if you met her as well!”

Would I? I had no idea. I didn’t care for most people as it was, so I didn’t see what would have made her any more special. Still, again, it was a nice thought.

I did wonder, though. What she must have been like, what life in general must have been like before the disaster that the fog brought with it.

Days later, Tigershark’s birthday came around. The unfortunate thing was that true to her word, little was done for her. There was a cake, there was some singing. Ray gave a sweater to Tigershark that he had knitted, and Sunny gave her an old pair of boxing gloves. She was happy with both gifts.

“Sorry I don’t have anything for your birthday this year,” Astraea told Tigershark.

“That’s okay! You just being here is fine with me! Besides, you let me play your video games, and that’s fun!”

Oh yeah. I forgot about that detail. Sometimes those two, when they weren’t busy with their restaurant duties, would sit in the back of the diner out in the hallway and play on Astraea’s Nintendo Switch.

“You can play video games with me and tell me what each word says on the screen! That way I can learn to read!” Astraea presented the game and console to Tigershark one day when I just happened to be in the same vicinity as them.

“What’s this? ‘Fire Emblem: Three Houses’, it says,” Tigershark read off the cartridge.

“Is that what it says? I always just thought it was called video games,” Astraea remarked.

The two sat together and didn’t pay me any mind.

“Look! It’s Sothis!” Astraea would point out. “She’s my favorite!”

It wasn’t long until each of them were pointing to each character.

“Ray looks like an older Lindhardt!” Tigershark exclaimed.

“Yes, but where are his glasses?” Astraea pointed out.

“Catherine looks like Sunny!”

“Yes, but her skin is too light to be Sunny,” Astraea corrected.

“Shamir looks kinda like Remora!”

Someone else I didn’t know, I see. Maybe she too was once a resident of the diner.

“Shamir’s skin is too light as well.”

Does it have to be a perfect 1:1 comparison? I couldn’t help but ask myself.

“Flayn reminds me of Demetria!” Both of them cried out, and that got me to look their way.

What?

“She’s short, has green hair, and likes fish. It’s perfect!” Tigershark sounded so excited, like she reached a breakthrough.

“Yes. Flayn is the perfect Demetria.”

Such nonsense, I shook my head.

“Who would be like Sister Cecilia?” Tigershark then wondered.

“Hmm...maybe Mercedes?” Astraea pondered. “She’s blonde and likes church stuff.”

“Oh, oh! I can see that!” Tigershark beamed.

Fuck it. I’ll bite.

“May I see the characters?” I wrote down and showed them.

“I’m still not very good at reading,” Astraea tilted her head and muttered. “What does it say, Tigershark?”

“She wants to see the characters in the game! Can we show her?”

“Yes. I shall allow it,” Astraea smiled, then handed the console to me.

I scrolled through each character in the menu.

There’s one called Lady Rhea. Somehow that name stands out to me. But it says she’s the head of the church, and I never really got along well with heads of churches.

I scrolled through some more. There was one character, Bernadetta.

Heh. Bernadetta. I can relate to her vibes. I too would like nothing more than to be left alone.

At last, I stopped at one character: Marianne. She was a demure looking young woman with short, blue hair.

For some reason I feel like she resonates with me, but I don’t know why. Wait. Why am I comparing myself to someone with short, blue hair?

I shook my head. Those little observations weren’t really much. I didn’t even really know the game that well. I handed the console back to them and wrote down:

“You’re right. Mercedes fits me most.”

They both grinned, as if I told them that they won a contest. Ah, well. Best to let those two think that, anyway.

After that exchange, I left the two alone. Still, it was nice to think that even from something as simple as that, Tigershark could be happy.

On a slow period, a little over a week after Tigershark’s birthday, I found Ray at his desk in the back of the diner. It was the perfect opportunity to ask him something which had been gnawing at the back of my mind. That, and we never really got to have much of a discussion together.

I sat down at a chair beside his desk and that was when he turned to me.

“Sister Cecilia. What can I do for you?” He asked, sounding bored.

“I was wondering about who used to live in the room I’m in,” I wrote down and showed it to him.

“You mean the guy and the girl?” He asked in return, referring to the ones I shared the room with.

I shook my head.

“No. Before the fog.”

He nodded his head slow.

“I see. Why do you want to know?”

“Just curious,” I wrote, “I heard Tigershark talking about her before.”

“Ah. Yeah. It used to be Demetria’s room.”

“Can you tell me about her?”

“She was someone who came here originally because she had a crush on someone who frequented here. I liked to give her a hard time about it, but I let her stay because the whole thing amused me. Can you relate to that at all?”

“What?” I wrote in response.

“Having a crush. Have you ever had such feelings for someone?”

“Only for God.”

And even then, not that. After all, I can’t have love for something that doesn’t exist.

He leaned back, then smiled a slight smile.

“Was that some kind of joke?” He asked.

“I have to try to keep a sense of humor, even in the darkest of times. There needs to be some light, no matter how small,” I wrote down my reply.

“I see. I used to think such things as well. I seem to have lost my sense of humor ever since this fog. She got lucky, though, that Demetria. She left before everything went south. She said that she needed to figure herself out, and I respected that. I even extended the offer that she could return at any time. However, once this fog started up, I didn’t want to risk such a danger. I texted her and told her that I didn’t want to see her again, hoping she’d get the message without asking any questions.”

“Did it work?”

“I have to assume so. I just feel bad for it, like I wonder if I made the right decision. She probably has a bad impression of me now, like I don’t care, when the opposite is true, and I’ll have to live with that. What do you think, Sister Cecilia?”

“I think you made the right call,” I wrote for him. “I think it’s for the best that she’s not here, given the circumstances.”

“Thank you, Sister Cecilia. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like if she was still with us.”

“I don’t know,” I had no other words to offer.

“Me either,” he shook his head, solemn at the thought.

Great, now I feel bad for asking. It’s like I touched on a sensitive subject.

Nervous, I pulled out my switchblade from my pocket and flicked it in and out. As embarrassing as it was, I had a habit of fidgeting with it when I got nervous.

“Oh? You have a knife?” He pointed down.

Crap. I wasn’t paying attention. I really wanted to hide this from others.

Desperate, I wrote down an explanation:

“Yes. The head of the clergy gave it to me, said that I needed something for self-defense.”

“Heh. It’s just that Demetria also had a thing for knives.”

Interesting. Something in common.

“Father Time gave it to me before I left the monastery.”

Funny that priests were called that. I never even knew my own father.

“Father Time, huh? That’s an interesting name for a priest, or anyone in general.”

“Yes. Time comes for us all,” I answered. Like before, I had to have some kind of sense of humor, even with a topic I never thought to bring up.

“So it does. I’m just wondering when that time will come,” he replied.

“Soon enough. You have to have hope, Ray,” I wrote down. It was a hollow gesture, as not even I had hope, or even knew what to hope for. But I wanted to comfort him in any way I could.

“Hope for what?” He asked.

“I don’t know,” I had to admit, and that was when I got up out of my seat. As always, we were at a standstill.

There was still no clear indication as to when such a hopeful time would come, or when that time would be right. In early September, two new faces showed up: One, the person named Wendy who I had heard of when I first arrived. The other was a nuisance and a sailor who called himself Captain Acab.

Wendy showed up one day and strutted in, nary an injury to be found. Before I could even direct her to a seat, she walked past me and sat at an empty booth. I was a little appalled that she wouldn’t wait, not even acknowledge me, and so having taken her seating as a slight, I walked up to her.

“The waitress will be with you shortly,” I wrote down and held up the paper.

She looked up, texting on a phone in her hands.

“She will, will she? And who might you be?” She flashed a smile. I even thought I saw a wink.

“I am Sister Cecilia, a nun who has taken on a vow of silence,” I introduced, holding up one sheet of paper that had been written on long ago.

“I see. You might make for a good conversation partner, then. Name’s Wendy Day. I’m an escort and I’m currently pretending to be the owner of this phone in my hands. I’m texting this girl’s mom and being like ‘ay, what’s up, ma?’ I’ll be honest, it’s hard pretending to be someone else, but I like to see their reactions.”

“Why would you do that?” I wrote down and asked.

“Well, she gave me her phone and asked me to do so while she sees someone named ‘Hera’. As to why I agreed...I dunno, but the next time I see her, I’ll give this to her. Say, wanna see a selfie her friend sent her? I’ll tell ya, I had no idea she’d have such a cute friend. I bet Remora would be jealous if she knew.”

Before I could reply that no, I did not want to see a picture of this stranger’s friend, Wendy held up the phone anyway. On the text screen was the face of a girl with dark hair and silky, olive skin. She was smiling in the photo and held up a peace sign.

“What do you think? Cute, huh? Not that I think so, but like I said, I bet a certain someone would get jealous.”

“I refuse to comment on someone I know nothing about,” I wrote down.

“Suit yourself. You can get the waitress now,” she shooed me off. I was just about to go when she added, “say, how are you liking it here?”

Despite my better judgment, I replied with the two words: “It’s hell.”

She snorted up a babyish laugh.

“I guess so, huh? What led you to this hell, though?”

“Rumors,” I gave my simple reply. The longer I stayed, the more I felt like I would be in an interrogation.

“Figures. Rumors can be such a nasty thing. I try not to put too much stock into them unless I have evidence. Well, I usually pull people out of here, but I think Ray wants me to stay a while longer this time. That way I can protect anyone, in case things get too bad.”

“I hope things don’t get too bad,” I wrote out my reply.

“You and me both. I also hope she gets here soon. I don’t know about you, but I’m getting pretty tired of pretending to be someone else. Plus, she promised me some action.”

Whoever she is, I would rather less people deal with this predicament, not more.

“Best of luck to your friend,” I wrote down instead. As always, I tried to be as nice as I could in my words, even if my true self was rotten to the core.

“Heh. Thanks. And best of luck in hell,” she flashed me a grin once more. At last, I felt I could move on to other places in the diner. I just didn’t know what moving on would bring…

“Ding-ding!” Went the chime of the bell above the door.

Damn it. What now? I cursed that bell and every new entry that walked in. Yet as it was my job, I rushed to the aide of whoever it was who entered.

When I got to the door and was all ready with the sign welcoming the new inhabitant in, I was met instead with a tall man (well, tall for me, anyway) with shaggy blue hair along with a long, blue beard and mustache.

Who is this? Krusty the Clown?

His face looked frozen and he shivered in place, then, he looked down and once our eyes met, I saw the bloodshot look in his and a look of either surprise or pure terror filled his face. That should have been my warning as to what came next, as he wobbled some more before collapsing over me.

I tried to hold him up as best I could, but he was just too heavy, and the angle was too awkward.

Ugh. Please. Stand up.

He didn’t even look that injured. So what was it? Exhaustion?

“Sister Cecilia, what are you doing?” Ray’s voice called out in the background.

I huffed and thanked my lucky stars it didn’t make so much of a sound.

“Hurry up and get him off of you and get him to a seat,” he scolded.

It was still too much of a struggle. Desperate, I reached for my paper and just tried to hold the man up with my own shoulders as I wrote down one word, as bold and big as I could make it. Then I held the paper up for Ray to see.

“HEAVY.” It said.

Ray took a look and scoffed.

“Of course he’s heavy, but people are going to fall from time to time. You should be used to this by now,” he continued to scold.

It’s not just that, but I’m wearing heels, which makes it very hard to move my legs much.

Ray helped the strange bearded man up. Then, when the man was back upright, and leaned against the hinges of the door to keep himself up, he spoke up.

“Heh, sorry about that. I guess you could say I ‘fell for you’,” his voice was low, but in a sort of fake and deliberate way. Also, he reminded me too much of that creepy cowboy man I remember helping out. All in all, bad vibes.

“I’m not impressed,” I wrote down.

I showed him to a seat, and one that for better or worse, wasn’t far from Wendy’s.

“Arr, thanks, miss,” he crooned like he was trying to talk like a pirate. He then pulled out a pipe from his pocket and put it in his mouth, and that was when I noticed the sailor uniform.

Maybe it’s not just an act. Either way, he could use some work in sounding more genuine, but that’s just me.

I soon pointed Astraea toward the sailor man and she strolled over to him.

“Here is a menu. Please take the time to look at it so that you may eat food. I will soon return, so be ready for me. Amen,” Astraea recited.

“Thanks, matey,” he told the waitress.

When Astraea returned, just a few minutes later, he asked her: “Say, who’s the pretty lady in the black dress?” Pointing to me. I felt sick to my stomach.

“That’s Sister Cecilia.”

“Holy hell, she’s beautiful.”

I scowled.

“Err...I mean, pardon me, being a sailor, I tend to curse like me.”

“Hey Ahab. Are you going to order or not?” I wrote down, done with his dilly-dallying.

“It’s ‘Acab’, lass. Because the ‘C’ is very important to a sailor, yes,” he took a puff of his pipe and nodded.

I’ve only known that guy once, but I swear he’s gonna give me a headache.

Some odd minutes passed and I floated around each table. Astraea returned to the sailor’s table with food in hand. By then, I had stopped paying attention to any of his antics, but somehow in the short span of time, not only had he received his food, but so did everyone else, and Tigershark was seated atop his lap.

How did this happen? I had to wonder.

“Arr, lass. How goes ye?”

“You remind me of Santa!” Tigershark exclaimed.

He bellowed out a hearty laugh.

“Aye. Ye think so?”

“Yeah! And your lap is really comfortable! Say, why do you shiver so much?”

He scratched his chin.

“When ye sail the mighty winds of the ocean, ye feel every breeze. Yea.”

“Wow. You sailed in the ocean?” Tigershark asked, amazed.

“Aye, lass. I’ve sailed every which way in search of my mortal enemy, Moby Duck, a giant duck who strikes fear into even the heartiest of men. Its call, ‘shuba shuba’ brings shivers to my spine to this day. In fact, I was close to facing off with my enemy when my ship crash landed near here.”

Giant duck? Seriously? You’re not fooling anyone.

“Wow! A giant duck!” Tigershark’s mouth hung open and was sucked into his story.

Fine. Maybe you fool one person.

I really wished that the sailor along with every troublesome guest was able to leave so I didn’t have to deal with them. With each passing nuisance, I wished the fog would dissipate, but my wish never did get granted. It really felt like all of us were stuck in a perpetual state of suffering. Tigershark and Astraea were able to keep their high spirits, but what about everyone else? Even then, how long could those children last? None of us could hold out forever, and if something didn’t change sooner or later, we might all fall to the ravages of time.

It was a quiet November. Little progress. Late in the evening, not a single soul stirred. By some miracle, we were all asleep, whether it be in the dining hall or one of the rooms. I was the only one left awake.

I took the time to let down the cloth over my mouth, open wide for a sigh of relief. I’ve spent so long, having to do everything in silence, find small windows of time to eat in private, without the watchful eyes of anyone around. Shower, use the restroom, anything. There were precious few moments of ‘alone’ that I was granted, and that moment happened to be one of them.

On the bed beside me slept the middle-aged couple: Turmeric and her longtime boyfriend, Cumin. Those two never gave me much mind, always absorbed in each other. As much as I disliked seeing their displays of affection, I was thankful for their quiet. When I first saw them, the two were in terrible shape. Now, however, they looked much healthier, even if their faces displayed sheer sorrow whenever I caught a glimpse of either of them.

“How long do I have to keep this up?” I asked myself, my voice, foreign and hoarse. It had been ages since I spoke a word, and in the dead of night, I allowed myself the simple sin.

What brought me to a startling fright, however, was the door to the bedroom, opening up. It creaked a slow discordant creak and I jumped in place before turning my head.

Astraea stood in the doorway, and even through the darkness I could see her blank stare and that snowy, shimmering hair.

“Oh, Sister Cecilia. So this is where you sleep,” she spoke up, a breezy whisper, yet both clear and direct.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, but then covered my mouth. I couldn’t believe I did such a thing.

She too looked surprised, and covered her mouth, then let go.

“Ah, so you do have a mouth.” She crept in, and closed the door behind her, then tilted her head and a slight smile spread across her face.

“Don’t worry, Sister Cecilia. Your secret is safe with me,” she assured me, but I did not feel the least bit reassured. I scrambled for my paper and pen and in haste, wrote down:

“Well I know you’re not human.”

She dropped to her knees and leaned in close, closer than I would have expected. Her eyes widened and it was like I was staring at a bug through a microscope.

“I’ve gotten better at reading,” she informed me. “And yes, I am human. I may not act it sometimes, but I don’t have to act like a human to be one. Just like you don’t always have to act like a nun to be a nun.”

She then stood back up and headed for the door. Before she left, she craned her neck back and turned to me.

“Goodnight, Sister Cecilia.”

Trembling, I waved back to her, and my heart would not cease to pound against my chest.

What the hell was that all about?

I couldn’t sleep for the rest of the night as I just wondered: Why? Why did she enter that night, and why did I feel so uneasy? More questions than answers floated around my mind and once again, I just had little else I could do but hope, hope that things would change soon.