#if u shave the sides nobody finds them :'3

[jekyllnahyena]

21 for Margo >:) aaaaand 7 for her also

And because I am super evil 18 for Jackal BUT the "Jackal lives past O66 and also Inquisitor Anndra" scenario. For angst reasons.

*slides in here to answer this ask four fuckin days late with starbucks* heeeyyyyyyyy bestie, beloved, rails <3 (sorry, u should hit me with the alfredo ayayaayay)

aightio, baby Margo, lez go!!

7. What are 3 foods they can’t live without?

Margo joins in on the weird lineage thing where she eats fuckin lizards. If you're lucky, it won't be a live one, but she has chomped down on many and Jackal keeps a package of dry lizards as weird little day-trip-snacks. They're sorta spicy and dry and sorta salty? She loves them. She's very much a snack person. She also really likes fizzy lemonade thingies (it's called sherbet in english? apparently?) and there's these sorta hard candy that have a very fizzy sherbet middle. She pretty much always sneezes when she eats them, but Margo has so much fun with them. And last but not least, there's a very funky fish burger you can get at Dex' and she orders it every time they're there. Dexter's generally has become one of her favorite places to visit and she enjoys it so much when Jackal and the family get together to go eat there >:D

21. What are they most afraid of? What made them fear this?

Being left behind. She has quite a few self esteem issues. She was always good or sorta average at things, but she never stood out, never dared to really speak up and yes, she has friends, but she's nobody's Best friend, right? She was never chosen and it's affected her pretty badly. (It doesn't help that she doesn't have any contact with her family outside of the order. She joined as a baby.) It got worse when she was ready to be chosen as a padawan, but nobody spoke to/chose her. And she knows how to deal with that, she tells herself it's fine, she doesn't care, she still has her hobbys and her friends, it will work out somehow. Probably. Maybe. (That time in particular is spent with many nights being very lonely and sad). So when Jackal does chose her, it means the world to Margo. But the worries don't leave for the longest time, she does end up knocking herself out a few times because she overtrains/overworks in the name of "proving her worth". But now she has a very firm support system that focuses on her and she really, really loves the family and connections she finds within that. But yeah, the fear stays with her and will creep up from time to time. (don't think about Margo watching Jackal's and Lockup's back as they go off in search of Grievous-)

ahhhhhhh yes. sadness and hurts. course. :')

18. How has their hair changed over time? What is their favorite hairstyle?

Right, so, Jackal wears their hair in several braids. It's was something their zabrak Dad did for them so they'd feel closer to their nautolan side becaue, well, they have no tendrils. (also the reason they're deaf. anyway.) After they're found by a jedi, it becomes the thing that keeps them close to their dad because yeah, they loved him and if it weren't for his death they would have never joined the death. Now, they've always kept the braids, one way or another, though they'll put them up for battle and the like. Pragmatism and all that. It's only after order 66 that they really change it up. They are convinced all their children are dead (wonderful fun-fact, they killed Lockup in this au) and they try deperately to cling to any kind of rememberance of them. So they put Upendo's beads in their hair, shave their sides for Margo and braid it up in a reminder of Anndra's ponytail. (they don't dare put in Lockup's streaks, they can't, not when they still dream of his face each night-). They keep five of their old braids, a reminder of the father they've watched die and will forever mourn, but now their hair in and itself has become and sign of all the death that seems to follow them. The lives they had once sworn to protect. A reminder of all they failed to be while they try to carry at least one last keepsake of their children. They keep that hairstyle till their death. (Kaia is the first one in years to touch their hair.)

[east-germany]

@loststolenorstrayed

I gotta reply to yr tags this way like a fucking neanderthal cuz op blocked me on sight (I would too) but anyways yea see grey hairs in your teens/20′s round these parts is 1.genetic and 2.sped up by caffeine use and I drink no less than 200-500 mg of caffeine a day so ya boi is well on his way to becoming a silver fox (Send help)

[fruitcoops]

would u write about the night of remus’s first goal and sirius just WORSHIPPING remus

Did someone say 3200 words of Coops being comfortable around each other even while ~spicy times~ are happening and the start of a 3-part smut series? No? Oops :)

Credit for Coops/ Sweater Weather goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for smut, a rampant praise kink, and both people laughing during sex

The Lions were everything to Sirius. They were his brothers, his family, his whole life. With Remus on the team, that feeling had only grown, and celebrating a win with them brought a sense of euphoria that was unmatched by pretty much everything.

And yet he wanted to be anywhere but the locker room right then.

Talker and Remus were laughing on the other side of the room while the cubs chanted “Loops, Loops, Loops!” at the top of their lungs; Remus’ two goals had given them the edge they needed to crush the Badgers 6-2 in the first game of the season; Sirius was bursting with pride, but the wait was killing him.

His leg bounced up and down as he zipped and unzipped his duffel for the millionth time. Remus was flushed with victory and alight with latent adrenaline—Sirius felt a little guilty for wanting to pull him away from the celebration that he rightfully deserved. You’re beautiful, he shouted internally. You’re so beautiful and how am I supposed to wait a decent amount of time before dragging you home?

“The fuck are you scowling at?” James laughed as he leaned over his stall and smacked Sirius on the shoulder with his glove. “Hey, earth to Cap. We won the game, man.”

“I know, I know.”

“We won by a lot.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Your fiancé scored two perfect goals, I don’t see the prob—oh. Ohhhh.” His eyes widened and he bit his lip mischievously. “I get it now. Hey, Loops!”

“Shut the fuck up,” Sirius hissed as Remus looked over at them. His smile softened when he saw Sirius. Pretty, was all his brain supplied.

“Sup, Pots?” he asked, wandering over and running a hand through his hair.

“You two should head home early,” James said faux-casually.

Remus frowned. “I thought we were going to get dinner with the team?”

Sirius died a little inside at that, but it was fine. You’re the captain, he reminded himself. You have to be part of team events.

But I don’t want to, the hyped-up, besotted, and incredibly horny part of him whined.

“Nah, I’ve got to plan for…Lils and I’s anniversary. Also, nobody really made final decisions on where we were going anyway.” It was clearly a lie, but Sirius appreciated his effort.

“Okay,” Remus said suspiciously, drawing out the word. “Is this some sort of prank? Are you trying to get me to leave so you can fuck with my stall or something? If I find anymore shaving cream, I swear—”

“Oh, my god,” James groaned, grabbing Remus by the shoulders and giving him a little shake. Thinnest patience in the world, Sirius thought wryly. “Go home. Celebrate. Please get railed by your fiancé before his grumpy vibes seep into the walls.”

Remus’ eyes went wide and he looked down at Sirius, who was desperately trying to suppress a blush. “Wha—you—oh. Okay. Um, yeah, that’s cool.” His eyes narrowed when he turned back at James. “Bold of you to assume he’s doing the railing. Stereotypes, much?”

“That’s your issue?” Sirius asked incredulously.

James rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry. Please go home and get laid or do whatever it is you do to banish the cranky captain aura. Better?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

Remus glanced back to Sirius. “Are you ready to head out?”

“He’s been packed for ten full minutes,” James said, turning him around and pushing him toward his stall. “Go.”

“Was that really necessary?” Sirius sighed as Remus packed his bag in a rush.

“I could have yelled it across the room,” James pointed out. “Also, you should be thanking me.”

“Thank you for not being as much of an asshole as you could have been.” Sirius stood up and knocked their foreheads together. “You played really well tonight, by the way.”

“Thanks, Captain,” James teased, giving him a little push. “Not a bad start to the season, eh?”

“Not bad at all.”

“Baby, you ready?” Remus asked, his voice a little tight as he slung his bag over his shoulder. Heat flashed through Sirius’ body and he gripped the edge of the stall; next to him, James started snickering. “Shut it, Pots.”

“Have fun, you two!” James called as they headed for the door.

“I’m telling Lily you forgot your anniversary!” Remus shouted back over his shoulder while Sirius dragged him along by the hand.

By the time they made it to the parking lot, Sirius could feel his heartbeat in his ears. He crowded Remus against the passenger door and pressed a hard kiss to his lips, gripping his waist and grinding slowly until their breaths came in short gasps.

“Fuck, you’re so hard,” Remus panted as he pulled on Sirius’ lower lip. “Any particular reason?”

“You. Just—you.” Sirius moved to his neck and Remus keened as he nibbled along his jawline and throat. “You have no idea how good you look on the ice. That first goal was perfect, and then you got another one—”

Remus laughed, combing his fingers through the curls that fell into Sirius’ eyes. “Now you know how I felt for months. We should definitely get in the car or else I’m getting on my knees right fucking now and that’s going to be embarrassing for us both.”

Ten incredibly tense minutes later, Sirius was fumbling with the house key as Remus kissed his neck and slid his chilly hands under the back of his shirt. As soon as the door swung open, he spun around and dragged him inside, kicking the door closed behind them and all but slamming Remus against the wall.

“Have I told you recently how much I—hnnn—love that you’re a switch?” Remus’ breath caught as Sirius pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it on the floor next to their shoes.

“Ditto.” Sirius felt him wobble a little and grinned. “Sweetheart?”

“Mhm?”

“We should go upstairs.”

Remus sighed and let his head fall forward onto Sirius’ shoulder. “Since when are you reasonable?”

“Since we need a bed as soon as possible.”

“We do?”

“We really do.” Remus grabbed Sirius’ hand and they practically ran to the stairs, pausing every few moments to kiss or bump against whatever they left laying around earlier that afternoon. Hattie cocked an ear when they passed her, but she settled back down—it was far past her bedtime. They made it halfway up the staircase before Remus pressed Sirius’ back into the wall, kissed the living hell out of him, and pulled his shirt over his head. “Twenty more feet.”

“Right here.”

“Twenty more feet and I’ll get you off twice.”

Remus’ breath audibly rushed out of his lungs and a full-body shiver ran through him; Sirius took advantage of the pause to take his hands and guide him backwards up the remaining stairs and into their bedroom. “Is this how you always felt after games?”

“Winning ones, yeah,” Sirius managed as he pulled Remus’ belt off with a sharp snap. Remus’ pupils dilated at the sound, and he raised his eyebrows. “Are you okay?”

“Totally okay, but I’m going to be laying awake having a very interesting inner monologue later,” he muttered, almost to himself. “Whew.”

“You’re going to be too tired to do anything once I’m through with you.”

Remus bit down gently on the side of his neck. “Promise?”

“You’re so fucking kinky, holy shit.” Sirius’ stomach filled with butterflies and he picked Remus up—the bed bounced as he dropped him on it, hovering over his heaving chest. “I love watching you skate, you know.”

“Clearly.”

“You were incredible out there.” Their jeans and socks came off quickly until only boxers were in the way. He carefully lowered himself and Remus’ leg jerked up on reflex as he ground down in a hard roll. “So fast, so graceful. They always underestimate you.”

“I am not going to last if you keep that up.”

“Yes, you will. You know why?”

A spark of interest lit in Remus’ eye. “Why?”

Sirius leaned down next to his ear. “Because you’re good.”

“Oh, fuck,” Remus breathed, canting his hips upward until Sirius shifted so the heels of his palms pressed against those sharp bones and held him down. “My heart is beating so hard right now.”

“I know, I can feel it,” Sirius laughed as he moved to kiss Remus’ throat and collarbone, which caught the moonlight through the bedroom window perfectly and cast shadows on the left side of his chest. “Mon coeur. Do you have the lube?”

Both of them winced as Remus’ hand smacked against the nightstand in his rush and Sirius kissed his knuckles, rubbing away the redness with one hand while uncapping the lube with the other. He scooted down the bed until his shoulders fit between Remus’ thighs—his thighs, holy fuck, Sirius had almost forgotten about those—and ran a light finger down the front of his boxers.

Remus twitched as Sirius leaned in to mouth at the hard line of him and ran one of his hands down the soft skin on his inner thigh, but he couldn’t move much and that only turned him on more. He squeezed tightly once with a desperate, half-gasped plea, then relaxed as Sirius kissed the inside of his knee. “Deep breaths, sweetheart. You’re doing so good.”

“I am?”

“You are, I promise.” Sirius slid back up until they were face-to-face and began pulling Remus’ boxers down as he kissed each of his cheeks. “Hey. You scored two goals tonight.”

“I did,” Remus said with a foxlike smile.

“I think that calls for a certain degree of celebration.” Sirius pushed his finger in at last and Remus arched his back, practically begging him to push him down again with a silent challenge. “I promised to get you off twice, right?”

“You did.”

“Except you also won the face-off.” Sirius couldn’t keep a smile down as Remus’ eyes widened. “Think you can do three?”

He swallowed thickly and nodded, his eyes glazing over as Sirius added another finger. “I’m going to win every single game we play if this is what ha-happens do that again baby please.”

“Really? You’ll win every game?” Sirius crooked his fingers again and drew a low groan from him.

“Yes. Yes, every time.”

“I believe you’ll win, but I think you’d miss topping. I’d miss it.” Remus’ hands returned to his hair and tugged lightly until he kissed him. “You always feel so good, sweetheart, and I know you like being in control sometimes.”

“Are you calling me bossy?”

“Yeah. I love it. I love you.” The words were sweet on Sirius’ lips as the sharp edges of Remus’ smile smoothed out and he practically purred beneath him. The third finger slid in without an issue; as Sirius internally lost his mind, Remus rolled his shoulders back happily. “Ready?”

“So ready, c’mon.”

The first glide was immaculate, and it only built from there. Remus wrapped his arms around Sirius’ chest as he moved—the frantic fuck-me-now adrenaline rush they had arrived with had begun melting away sometime during the last ten minutes, but Sirius still buzzed with energy and he felt the slight tremble of Remus’ anticipation everywhere their skin touched.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, running his hands down Remus’ ribs. His eyes were closed and his cheeks were flushed rosy red, mussed curls tumbling over his forehead and splayed in a halo against the pillows. “Look at me, mon coeur. You have the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen, like liquid gold.”

“Hopeless romantic.” Remus shuddered a sigh as their gazes locked and a well-placed thrust rippled through him. “Good?”

“Good.” Sirius ducked his head and laughed quickly. “I’m so fucking glad you have a praise kink, by the way.”

“Oh, really?”

“It’s the best. All I have to say is you’re taking me so well—” he lowered his voice to a satiny rumble and the tendons in Remus’ neck seized. “—and you’re a puddle.”

“I am, I am, just—just a little higher, please.”

“Look at you, using your manners,” Sirius teased. He obliged, though, and he felt Remus’ skin heat up beneath his palms as his knee pressed into Sirius’ waist.

“Oh, fuck off.” Remus shook his head with a smile and drew him back in for a long kiss.

Kissing Remus was something special. His lips were soft and demanding at the same time, growing progressively more urgent as Sirius picked up the pace and small sounds punched from his lungs.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Remus managed, tugging on his shoulder. Sirius stopped immediately, but when he went to pull out Remus placed a hand on his hip. “No. Stay.”

A tingling sensation washed over Sirius when he registered Remus’ change in tone. His voice was lower, smoother, brooking no room for argument. “Are you alright?” he ventured.

The corners of Remus’ lips quirked up and in a smooth motion, he flipped them over so he was straddling Sirius’ hips and kneading his chest with the heels of his hands. “There we go,” he said, tilting his head to the side and jutting his chin at the angle Sirius knew as hold on tight.

And then he just kind of…stayed there.

Sirius relaxed into it, settling his hands on Remus’ hips as he ground down a bit. “You can move if you want,” he said after a moment.

Remus’ jaw ticked. “I’m trying.”

Oh, shit, is it me? Sirius took his hands away, but he hadn’t been gripping hard enough for there to be light marks, let alone stop Remus from moving. “Are you okay?”

“Uh, I can’t actually…” Remus’ nose scrunched up and his thighs clenched, then quaked and gave out. “I’m okay, but I think my legs are tired.”

“From the game? Are you kidding?” Sirius leaned back on the pillows and laughed, long and loud. “Oh, sweetheart.”

“Shut up!” Remus swatted his chest, though he was laughing as well. “I can do it, just give me a sec.”

Sirius wheezed as the pressure on his chest increased and batted at his wrists. “Nope, nope, you’re going to break me. We can go back to what we were doing before.”

“I can do this.”

“No, you can’t,” Sirius snickered.

Remus readjusted himself and tried again—he rose less than an inch before the trembling in his thigh muscles took hold and sank him back down. It felt fine and Sirius was glad for the closeness, but he knew it would feel better if Remus let him turn them over.

After a moment of hesitation, Remus stared up at the ceiling and burst out laughing again. “You’re right, I’m so sore right now, this is ridiculous.”

“Come here.” He slid off him with a slight wince and Sirius sat up against the headboard, holding his arms out. He closed his eyes with a contented hum as Remus kissed his forehead and snuggled into him. “I’m sorry you’re sore.”

“It was worth it.”

“Do you want to take a break?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I love cuddling with you, but I was promised three orgasms tonight and I’m still so horny.”

“Oh, thank god, me too.” Sirius guided him back to the mattress by his shoulders and grabbed the lube from where it had been abandoned at the foot of the bed. He slicked up his dick again and stroked Remus a few times as well before pushing back in with steady pressure. “Still okay?”

“Hell yeah,” Remus sighed, reaching out to trail his thumb under Sirius’ eye. “It’s always good with you.”

Sirius turned to kiss the inside of his wrist. “You’re always good for me.”

“That was smooth.” Slender fingers traveled up and tucked a stray curl back into place. Sirius hadn’t even realized it was in the way until Remus moved it.

“You’re obsessed with my hair, aren’t you,” he said, sliding his hands down to scratch lightly at the sides of his thighs.

Remus shrugged, though his hold tightened minutely. “It’s soft and it’s pretty.”

Sirius dragged his lips down Remus’ forearm, kissed the crook of his elbow, and then continued along his bicep and shoulder. His summer freckles were tragically faded, but the salty tang of sweat and Remus was more than enough incentive for him to leave small love bites in his wake. “You’re soft and pretty.”

“Hmmm, okay.” He didn’t have to look up to know what Remus’ face would look like—eyes closed, sated smile, light lines of tension through his neck and upper chest. “I love the sound of your voice when you’re turned on.”

Sirius paused. “Really?”

“Yeah. It’s kind of like thu—huh.” Remus shifted his position at the same time Sirius leaned up to look at him; whatever he did, it must have been good, because his mouth fell open in surprise. “Thunder. Um. Hmm. Can you…?” Rather than telling Sirius what he wanted, he squirmed for a second, tilting his hips up and making small, frustrated noises.

“Hold on—hold on, Re, what are you trying to do?”

“You did something really good right then and I don’t remember what it was but I’m so fucking close.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Sirius blinked away some of his own sex-induced haziness and registered the slight tremor in his hands, as well as the glassy look in his eyes.

“Oh, okay. Hey, lay back and let me take care of it. Tonight is all about you.” He pulled Remus’ hands up to his back and pulled his leg up around his waist, tracing the muscle divots lightly.

What did I do before? Sirius thrusted in with slow, deep rolls while he thought. He had been leaning to the side a bit, and then Remus lifted up slightly…oh. Smug pride filled his veins as he kept one forearm firmly across Remus’ navel and brushed the other hand over the top of his dick.

“Yeah, that,” Remus said weakly as he stretched his arms over his head.

“This is it?” Sirius added a little extra pressure to his arm and his dick throbbed in response. “Good job, using your words.”

“Mmm.”

“How close are you now?” he asked, running his palm around the head until Remus’ legs jolted around him.

“So close,” he whispered. “C’mon, just a little more, pleasepleaseplease.”

“I love you, sweetheart,” Sirius said, sliding his hands beneath Remus’ lower back and propping him up an extra inch for the best angle. “Come for me.”

His harsh grip on the sheets relaxed as he came, eyelashes fluttering and mumbling under his breath. Remus didn’t fall apart or seize up, just melted into Sirius’ arms with a low moan. Sirius didn’t even realize his own orgasm was approaching until he heard his name on Remus’ kiss-swollen lips and the world vanished for a moment.

When he came back into himself, gentle fingers were running through his hair. “Sweetheart,” he said fondly. He pulled out nice and slow, but remained a boneless weight on top of Remus.

“Hey, handsome.” Remus’ voice was scratchy.

“Congratulations on your first goal.”

“I thought that was just for the face-off?”

[stacispratt]

glorious fire

big thank u to @coffeebucko​ without whomst this fic would not exist <3 thank u for chatting with me about stacijacob & also putting your eyeballs on the first draft of this thing!! without further ado here’s jacob asking how staci would kill him as foreplay

also posted on ao3!

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

“When you fantasize about escaping,” Jacob says, as he looks up from his Chosens' reports to rest his eyes on Pratt's rigid form, “how do you do it?”

Pratt, sitting on Jacob's bed, in the middle of scribbling notes on his clipboard, only locks up stares at him. His eyes are wide, knuckles white, like he can’t believe Jacob is even asking— he thinks it’s a loyalty test. It’s as plain as day on his face. He stays quiet, manages to slip the pen into the top of the clipboard despite shaky hands. He's thinking up the perfect response, the perfect string of words to please Jacob, to make him secure in Pratt's loyalty. His fear. 

That's not what he's looking for. Jacob’s not fucking stupid. No man in his right mind would think Pratt is loyal to him or Eden's Gate.

Silence sinks between them. The air sucks out of the room like a thunderstorm is about to break out, localized to just Jacob's bedroom, until Pratt looks like he might start to hyperventilate.  

But Jacob Seed doesn’t repeat himself. He doesn’t ask again. 

Instead, he sighs long and deep, and leans back in his chair. Looks back down to his records, though he doesn't read them. “When we were kids—Joseph, John, and me—we had some foster parents who worked us like dogs on their farm. Wouldn’t let us in the house, made us sleep in the barn." He taps his pen. "Beat us, too. Was doin’ my best to take the brunt of it, but one day I saw some bruises on John, even though he was just a damn baby.” Jacob pauses, glances over to Pratt, gauges his reaction. He's blank as stone, though there's something twitching in the corner of his mouth. Jacob hums once and sets his papers down. “So I burned the fucking barn down.”

He fixes his eyes decidedly on Pratt now, gaze hard and focused. Pratt's watching him back, like maybe he understands. Like maybe he knows better who Jacob is. What makes him tick, that— that what makes Jacob tick makes him tick, too.

“So, Peaches,” he says. “What barn are you burning?”

Pratt swallows so loud it clicks. Then he says, “I'd kill you while I shave your throat,” and Jacob smiles. He's not looking at Jacob anymore, he's staring at the floor— maybe the bloodstain on the unfinished concrete from when Jacob gave him the cut that now traces down the line of his cheek. His hands stay behind his back obediently, but his shoulders flex like maybe he's fiddling with his fingers. Weak, but Jacob can let it slide, so long as Pratt keeps outlining his escape plan. "And after– after you bleed out I'd disguise myself as a Chosen and escape."

Pratt's eyes fuzz out as he recalls his escape plan. It's not his realistic one, not a real plan. Jacob has seen him eye the weekly truck deliveries, sneak glances at the rotating guard schedule. Good. He's not stupid enough to tell Jacob his real plan. Just his favorite fantasy.

Jacob brings his hand to his face and rubs his mouth. "After. After I bleed out." He doesn't take his eyes off Pratt as his eyes rise from the floor to Jacob's face— first his finger perched on his lips, then to his eyes. He looks frightened, but not in the way he was at first. He doesn't look frightened of Jacob himself. More like he's frightened of his own thoughts, his own desires.

The thought has delight curling in Jacob's stomach. 

"Yes," Pratt husks. "Yes, I have things to… to say."

An honest to God smile pulls up the corner of his mouth. Jacob is careful to cover it with his hand. "Like what?"

After a moment, Pratt says, "I guess you'll have to find out," his muscles tense like he's ready to bolt.

Jacob's smile widens into a grin. He fucking laughs. "Guess I will, Peaches," he croons, as he taps his finger to his lips, just once. "When you get the guts to dig in the knife, I guess I will." He hesitates, smile fading, then prompts, "Show me how you'd do it."

Pratt's jaw closes so tightly the muscle visibly flexes. Controlling himself, his gut reaction, but right after he does, he pries his mouth open and chokes out, "How I'd—?"

"Kill me," Jacob finishes for him, as he stands and comes around his desk. His arms fall to his sides, while Pratt's come up to his chest defensively. Jacob only hums and tugs his desk's metal chair into the center of the room. Over the old blood stain. "Come here."

He waits until Pratt steps forward to sit, then unsheathes his hunting knife from its holster on his thigh and offers it over his shoulder without looking. 

Pratt hesitates for a heartbeat, then all at once swipes the knife from Jacob and presses it near instantly to his throat. Not hard, though— he'll need to press harder to kill Jacob.

But he never will.

Of course he won't. Jacob knows Pratt, and he won't. He'll never kill Jacob. He doesn't have it in him.

That's why he's never done it before when shaving Jacob. That's why he didn't do it in front of the Deputy. That's why he won't do it now. That's why it's only something Pratt thinks about late at night, lying on the dirt in a cage outside, when nightmares keep him awake.

Pratt takes a shuddering breath. Jacob tips his chin up in offering. He pulls the knife in toward him, and there's just enough bite to tell Jacob that Pratt actually managed to nick him. Warmth trickles down through the stubble on his throat and settles in the dip of his collarbone. 

Jacob clucks. "Not a bad spot, if you'd actually make the slice." He grabs hold of Pratt's wrist and yanks the blade up his throat— hard enough that he can feel the skin go red and irritated, with blood vessels burst just under his first layer of skin. Pratt's hand trembles under his, flutters around the knife handle. "But you won't have any time to whine and cry at me if you get my artery. You'd have to cut…" he trails off for a moment while he guides Pratt's hand through the killing motion, glides the knife oh-so-gently across his vulnerable throat. "Just here if you want time to watch the light leave my eyes, Peaches."

Pratt's breath hitches audibly. Jacob adds, "Would even leave me the air to give you a little conversation, if you like." When there's no response, Jacob drops his hand to his lap and prompts, "Your turn, Pratt. Make the fucking cut."

Pratt still doesn't speak. Jacob insists, "Escape. Don't you want to? Don't you want to crawl to the Whitetails, beg and plead them to help you now that you've killed the Big Bad Wolf?"

The knife rocks against his throat as Pratt readjusts his grip. There's more pressure against his skin for just a moment, almost enough to make him bleed again, and then Pratt lifts the blade away from him, drops it to the floor, and steps back.

Jacob lets Pratt feel the silence for a few heartbeats. Then he stands, retrieves his knife, and straightens his back to look at Pratt. He doesn't smile this time, just steps forward to Pratt's figure, still as stone, and gently pinches his jaw between his thumb and first two fingers.

He doesn't speak until Pratt's damp eyes rise to meet his.

"You understand, don't you?" he murmurs. "You're a smart boy." Pratt nods, jerky as if he's controlled by broken machinery. Jacob strokes his jaw with the tip of his pointer finger. "Good. You're mine. And nobody else in this county— no Whitetail, no Hope County Cougar, no piece of their Resistance— is ever going to take care of you the way I do."

They breathe together for a few moments. Pratt's eyes have fallen shut, though tears still glisten at the corners and along his lashes. Jacob thinks absently how he wants to make Pratt cry until there's no more tears left in him— until there's no horror left worse than anything he's already felt.

"There's nothing for you out there," Jacob says. Promises. Reassures. "There's only me."

Pratt doesn't say a word, but Jacob hears him all the same:

Only you.

Jacob lingers. Strokes his thumb over Pratt's lip.

Pratt opens his eyes at the sensation, stares up with those wide brown eyes— Jacob exhales softly and sinks down to press their lips together. Slides his thumb out of the way just in time, drags the corner of Pratt's mouth down as he slots their lips together. Pratt's breath shakes out of him. Jacob swallows it up.

"Staci," he murmurs, and clenches his hands on Pratt's hip and the back of his neck when he shudders in response. Jacob holds him steady, no longer kissing him, though their lips still brush. He doesn't move. He waits for Pratt.

Who takes one more halted, shivery breath, then steps abruptly back from Jacob.  He dips his head to escape Jacob's hold on his neck, then just stands there, three feet from him. Jacob hums. Runs his hand over his beard and rubs his knuckle into his chin. "Staci," he repeats, and it instantly draws Pratt's eyes to his— Jacob's never used his first name until now, and it's having just the effect Jacob hoped it would. He holds his gaze and doesn't move closer. Lets Pratt keep his distance. "We're all we can rely on. That's why we cull the herd. That's why we need to train them."

Pratt stares at him. Jacob can see the cogs turning in his mind. Can see him grinding up the we, trying to process it. Make it digestible. 

"Together," Jacob adds, without looking away. After a moment, he steps forward, pats Pratt's cheek, then steps to the door and twists the handle. "Bring me a report on the Bliss supplies by ten. See you tonight, Peaches."

Alone in Jacob's bedroom, Staci brushes his middle finger over the developing scar on his right cheek. He follows it down to his mouth, and presses his first knuckle to his lips.

Staci, Jacob says in his mind, Together.

[champion-prism]

NSFW Alphabet- Champion Leon

Explicit NSFW under cut-

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

It depends on how tired he is. If he’s really tired, he’ll do his best not to make a mess; afterwards, he’ll simply pull you tight against his chest and fall asleep. If he isn’t tired, he gets as messy as he likes, always cleans you up afterwards, and lays back as you pull on his shirt and snuggle into him. Lots of soft kisses afterwards- on your knuckles, on your face, ghosted over your lips.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

 He loves his hands. They’re large, especially compared to yours- he has pretty, artistic looking fingers that you love to kiss, and he loves to pump inside of you.

His favourite part of your body is your hips. He loves to teasingly pepper kisses on your pelvis, trail his hands down your waist and over the curve of your hips...even when you’re in public, his hand on your waist may occasionally drift lower.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Loves to cum inside. For someone who has a whole reputation at stake, he’s actually quite lax about protection, and in the moment he’s always kissing you and moaning and asking permission to cum inside of you.  He also has a lot of cum, and he likes watching it leak out of you. If you don’t allow him to cum inside, he’ll cum over your stomach or chest.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Sometimes when you’re asleep and he’s horny, he ruts against you gently and runs his hands over your body, one hand creeping into his pants to get himself off. If you’re a deep sleeper, he’ll hump against you, desperate for friction as his hands run up your shirt. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Experienced, but not very. He’s been with only one or two people before you, and not very serious relationships at that- his whole focus before you came along was his work. That being said, Leon is a quick learner and he definitely puts all his experience to use. He quickly adapts to your body- he’s quite explorative in the beginning, trying everything he can and noting exactly what makes you moan and arch your back.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He really likes doing it when you’re both on your sides, facing each other. You’re pressed up to his chest with your leg thrown over his waist, kissing and touching him, he’s holding you as close as possible as he thrusts into you, hands roving your form and coming to paw at your chest. He loves the closeness of it all.

Contrariwise, he also loves the exact opposite- taking you from behind with most of your clothes still on, fast, desperate, trying to reach his high as he slams into you, groaning and gripping your hips to steady you.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Leading up to the moment, he’s definitely humorous. He likes to talk to you, smiling against your lips and sometimes tickling your sides just to see you laugh. But in the moment, he’s focused. All he can think about is your body, and how much he wants to see you moan and say his name and clench around his cock as you cum.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He mostly keeps it short and slightly fluffy. He doesn’t like shaving it off completely- it gets uncomfortable and prickly, but he keeps himself nice and groomed. It’s about the same shade as the hair on his head- he loves it when you down his purple happy trail.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Moans into your ear about how much he loves you, how perfect you feel, and how your hole was just made for him. He’s usually more intense than romantic, although he gets romantic afterwards.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

When he’s single with nobody in mind, he doesn’t jack off that often- he has an intense workout routine where he can vent his frustrations to the point of exhaustion. When he likes you, however, he will jack off, even though he’ll be self conscious about it. Leon’s been raised to be very self aware, and this can pervade into his most private moments- he’s terrified of  somehow being caught touching himself, even in the privacy of his own bedroom-  when he does pull up a picture of you and pleasures himself, he feels guilty afterwards.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Powerplay, roleplay. He likes pretending you’re some rookie trainer or a fan that fell into bed with him, even though he’s too conscientious to actually do something like that. He loves dominating you, eliciting squeals of “oh, Champion Leon!”, but alternatively, sometimes he likes it when you take charge, pushing him down and riding him and making him admit that you’re the only one the all powerful Champion submits to. Also slight breeding kink, but he doesn’t tell you about it- you more or less find out by accident when he blurts something out in the heat of the moment. 

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Apart from your bedroom, he likes to do it in his private locker room/shower at Wyndon stadium. It’s the thrill of it all, coming down from a battle high with the crowds’ cheering still ringing in his ears, feeling victorious and powerful when you call him your Champion as he rails you in the shower. He’s very careful about the doors being locked, and it’s still more of a guilty pleasure than anything, but he loves it.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Winning battles, for one thing. The adrenaline coursing through his veins, seeing your bright face and you gush over how incredible he was, makes him very hard. He also loves seeing you in pretty clothing- lingerie, and also pretty clothes in shades he likes, maybe something that’s slightly revealing, but leaves enough to the imagination.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He’s really not into hurting you, or anything like that. Seeing tears streaming down your face would just be a massive turn off for him. He wants you to enjoy yourself during sex, to make faces an moan and beg and plead- but he doesn’t want to hurt you, even if you’re fine with it. 

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

There’s nothing quite like a blowjob to relax him after a long day, but if he had to pick, he would deviate towards giving. It’s just a massive powertrip to have you come undone by just his mouth- the sounds you make and the way you taste and leak for him, he loves every second of it. He could eat you out for hours.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

When you’re in bed, he likes to take his time with you, going at a slow to moderate pace and speeding up when you beg him to. If you’re on the couch or a place like the stadium, he’s pretty fast and rough, although he’s careful not to hurt you.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He’s fine with quickies- he actually finds them kinda hot, seeing how desperate you both are to simply get off. Doesn’t indulge in them too often, though- usually prefers to take his time with you.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’s fine with experimentation as long as it doesn’t involve the risk of being caught. His image as a family friendly icon is immensely important to him- important enough that the risk of being caught is a real fear for him, not a thrill. Apart from that, he’s willing to at least try something new that you’re into.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Between 1 to 3 rounds. If he’s tired and the first round goes on for very long, he’ll either stop, or have a really quick second round before he goes to sleep. He’s strong with great self control, so he can pace himself to last as long as he wants. On days when he’s free for once, he likes to go for long, explorative rounds where he takes his time toying with your body.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Prefers to get you off by himself, but he won’t say no to toys if you want to use them. Doesn’t have any toys of his own- he once considered getting a fleshlight, but he’s too self conscious. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Teases a fair bit when he’s in the mood to, but he mostly doesn’t want to waste time before being inside you. He gets these playful moods where he likes to edge you and draw your orgasm out, but he always makes up for it by pounding into you during the next round.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Very loud. It’s usually lewd moans and slurred words about how much he loves you, and how you feel warm and wet and you’re perfect around him, fuck, he wants to cum inside you so bad. During your post-battle romps at the stadium, he bites down on your shoulder to muffle his moans. 

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Has a secret fantasy about being tied up. He wants to completely surrender all semblance to control, and just let you have your way with him for as long as you like. Has a small thing for overstimulation.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

It’s thick, and cut. About 5” flaccid, but goes up to 7.5” when he’s hard. 

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Progressively increases as he gets to know you. When he’s completely in love with you, he yearns for you all the time- expect sex multiple times daily if he’s free, or atleast two rounds at night when he gets back from work.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Fairly quickly. He’ll take care to clean you up, but once he’s cum, all he really wants to do is cuddle into you and fall asleep. He’s very tired a lot of the time, and he feels relaxed and safe in your arms.

[tanoraqui]

Grave dirt baby... 🥺✨

me, procrastinating my actual fic? no... GRAVE DIRT BABY A-YUAN

HEY TUMBLR FUCKED UP ALL MY BULLET POINTS ON THIS THE SECOND I HIT POST BUT IT’S 4AM SO I’M LEAVING IT UP ANYWAY. STUPID GODDAMN WEBSITE.

Wei Wuxian has been in the Burial Mounds for like 2.5 months out of what he doesn’t yet know will be about 3. He’s not even sure he’s going to survive yet. But he has managed to manifest an evil sword - the evil sword - out of the aether/ambient resentful energy/an attunement set with an unwise touch in the belly of an evil turtle

and he does know that he’s not going to survive if he doesn’t get the power of the Burial Mounds under some sort of control

so he cuts his arm and with blood running down the blade, draws something adjacent to the first demon-summoning flag but as an array in the dirt. He stands in the middle and - keep in mind that he more or less hasn’t slept in 2.5 months - plunges the sword into the center, still coated in his blood, and draws in all the resentful energy of the Burial Mounds

was it supposed to go into the sword? Into himself? Into just the single 4ft diameter array area, a column of bound death? who knows, not Wei Wuxian! it’s pure gut instinct

u know what else works on gut instinct, thought? Fairy tales.

And in a fairy tale, why, clay of the earth plus iron enough for a blade plus still-warm blood to show the way...

There’s an implosion and Wei Wuxian is standing - somehow still standing - in a small crater where the array used to be, and his evil sword is plunged into the belly of a baby

He yanks it out in horrified reflex, and realizes a moment later that the baby seems unfazed by this. If there was even a wound, it closes before his eyes, and the glimpse he had showed something more bloody clay than flesh beneath the skin

the iron sword crumbles as he pulls it away, as though rusted a thousand years. the baby turns its head from the iron shavings that falls on it, but then reaches up for Wei Wuxian with a cheerfully demanding cry

he picks it up, of course. (he’d think he was hallucinating if he wasn’t absolutely and utterly aware that he’s not)

it is, as far as he can tell, with physical and spiritual resentful inspection, an absolutely normal baby

oh, except when he looks really closely. Then he can sense the neutron star–dense knot of resentful energy where a golden core might (but will definitely not have room to) form. Also, it can command the dead, and when he holds it, so can he. He’s not sure if it’s a proximity-based power share or if he’s passing his desires through the baby, but even Wei Wuxian, at about 3 months with no food save the rage of the dead and no rest save the promise of final release, has to stop investigating at some point. He has things to do!

specifically, he has Wens to kill

so instead of the iconic shot of the dark flautist in the moonlight, we get the dark, uh...man singing a very spooky lullaby to his baby in the moonlight. It is still deeply creepy. It’s a making-it-up-as-he-goes tune based on a Yunmengi lullaby that he certainly learned from neither of his foster parents, and the lyrics are along the lines of, “let them remember what they did, sweet little potato, let them remember why they’re dying”

yeah he’s been calling this child “Little Potato” for 2 weeks 

why

is that not how you name a child

sometimes when he’s more annoyed at it, he calls it “Little Radish”, or even less appetizing root vegetables

by the time he walks in, the baby is asleep in his arms and he’s not singing anymore, just letting the dead do his will. This is what Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji see. The subsequent conversation, Wen Chao and Wen Zhuliu at their feet, goes like this:

LWJ: Wei Ying. You have a baby.

WWX: Oh, uh...

PLAY DUMB!

WWX: What baby?

NOT THAT DUMB!

WWX: Oh, this baby! Haha yeah. I...found it.

JC: What the fuck

WWX: Yeah, weird, right? Right near the, uh...

LWJ: They said you were in the Burial Mounds

WWX: Yyyyup. Yes that is. I found this baby by the side of the road after I walked out of the Burial Mounds.

JC, briefly too morbidly fascinated to think about either the demonic cultivation they just watched or the fact that he wants to hug his brother like he’s never wanted to hug another being in his life: What did you name it?

WWX: ....

JC, desire to hug intensifying together with exasperation: oh my god

Sometime in the next couple days - after sleeping a bit, maybe - it occurs to Wei Wuxian that his raw instincts were right and things will go very badly for little A-Yuan (his siblings insisted he name it) if anyone finds out that he’s a not-yet-walking, not-yet-talking little neuron star of resentful energy. So he takes the iron shavings that are all that remain of the Stygian Turtle Sword and forges them into a Tiger-shaped Seal. He also carves a bamboo flute, like he’d been thinking about before the whole...baby thing. He loudly proclaims both to be dark and terrible weapons

(it really is helpful. The sword was...kind of A-Yuan’s other parent, after all, in addition to their third partner, the Burial Mounds. Chenqing gives him finer control of whatever stray resentful energy he chooses to pick up, and the Stygian Seal lets him channel A-Yuan’s power at need, even when not touching him. Which is good - a battlefield is no place for a baby)

even if that baby thinks ghosts and ghouls exist to pick him up and rock him or toss him around (babies like to be tossed)

Wei Wuxian puts so many goddamn spirit-repelling charms on that child, and lets it be marked down to the paranoia of a survivor

using whatever resentful energy he picks up is generally more effective, actually. Less strong, but it quickly becomes clear that the way this works does, in fact, involve Wei Wuxian communicating his desires through A-Yuan, or at least A-Yuan has to put up with the loan of power. There’s nothing quite like abruptly losing control of a field of corpses because the baby got abruptly uncooperative with anything that wasn’t barfing

the baby does eat, for the record. As far as Wei Wuxian can tell, he doesn’t actually need to, but once WWX fed him once, when they first left the Mounds, he wanted it all the time

he still takes A-Yuan with him when he can. That is the paranoia of a survivor. A-Yuan is...

“A battlefield is no place for a baby, A-Xian,” Jiang Yanli says gently, as he sets out from Carp Tower after another stolen visit, another failed attempt to convince Jin Guangshan off his ass. “And you are...so busy. LanlingJin takes in orphans, you know...”

“A-Yuan...he’s my blood,” Wei Wuxian says quietly. He’s never been good at lying to his shijie

Whatwherewhenhowwho, he’d see on her face if he was looking at it. But he isn’t. It’s not shame, though, she can see (it really never is, with Wei Wuxian). Fear of disappointing her, slight resignation...but mostly acceptance. Determination. Something almost like contentment.

(When Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangj first took him back to whatever resembled a base camp - somewhere in Qinghe, probably, or maybe Lanling - he had to let a trained healer look at A-Yuan, physical and spiritual examination, and he held his breath and calculated how many people he’d have to kill to get out of here, how fast he’d have to move to not hurt his brother or any particular friends; thought, oh, he’s mine, in a way he hadn’t before - as a child, a son, not just a very strange weapon - 

“He’s quite healthy,” said the doctor, mildly surprised, bouncing A-Yuan on one knee. A-Yuan gurgled happily. “About three months old?”

the longer Wei Wuxian took to answer, the more disapproving her stare got. But that did make sense)

Then all else can be dealt with later. “You should still leave him here,” Jiang Yanli says firmly. “You need to look after yourself and A-Cheng out there. I can look after A-Yuan.”

It takes a bit under two years to win back the lost and burnt territories, scour the Wens out of every crevice, corner Wen Ruohan in his precious Nightless City and bring it tumbling down. Nobody will know the timing but A-Yuan sleeps through the final battle, smiling at dreams that would make a grown man weep in horror. Somewhere, his father is playing a lullaby

About a week later, Jiang Cheng stalks into Wei Wuxian’s bedroom, which he shares with A-Yuan. One of the first rooms rebuilt in the new Lotus Pier. A-Yuan is there, too, playing with blocks while Wei Wuxian idly drafts talismans

“A-jie said the kid is yours,” he says, crossed arms. “Like, yours-yours. When the fuck did you do that?”

(Wei Wuxian has thought about this, by now; gone over the pros and cons of every possibility, the politics and potentials and maybe even the giddy possibility of telling something like the truth)

(the guiding principle is: he has no interest in drawing on the “Stygian Tiger Seal” ever again. The Sunshot Campaign is over. His loved ones are safe, and he sees no reason why they shouldn’t all live long, happy, normal lives)

(also/though, he will burn Jin Sect, Carp Tower, and all of Lanling to the ground before the new Chief Cultivator should touch his son)

“In Caiyi,” he lies. “Right before I got kicked out. I, uh, snuck out a lot more often than you noticed.”

His brother squints at him suspiciously. But Wei Wuxian can also watch him do the math in his head and reluctantly admit that it works.

“So are you claiming him or what?” he challenges. “’Wei Yuan’? You have a courtesy name - wait, no, you are not naming that kid again. You’re going to make his courtesy name be Carrothead or something.” 

“Should I let you pick it, oh wise and noble shidi - no, shushu?!” Wei Wuxian teases, as A-Yuan gets tired of his blocks and starts climbing up him like a jungle gym

Jiang Cheng sighs like the north wind - gusting long and hard, with just the faintest chill to suggest that the skies will be weeping, soon

But...

Despite some evidence to the contrary, Wei Wuxian is generally fully aware of when he’s about to cross a line that cannot be backtracked over. So he meets Wen Qing in the city, and before going to Lanling, he nips into Lotus Pier and picks up A-Yuan

He might leave A-Yuan with Wen Qing in the city when he goes to Glamour Hall, but Qiongqi Pass happens with a toddler watching silently from Wei Wuxian’s hip. Does Wei Wuxian tell him to look away, bury his face in baba’s shirt, or does he not bother, knowing the sort of song that makes up A-Yuan’s sweet dreams?

The Wens become the second through 51st or so people who learn what A-Yuan is. Wei Wuxian briefly considers trying to hide it, but, honestly, there are dead things everywhere on the Burial Mounds, and despite his genuine efforts, he cannot convince A-Yuan that a fierce corpse is anything but the ideal patty-cake companion. (They’ll play with him for hours! It’s a two-nearly-three-year-old’s dream!)

(he doesn’t want to convince him, not really. The last thing he wants to do ever is give A-Yuan anything to be scared of)

nor could he possibly wish that A-Yuan not be...obviously hale and hearty, running rosy-cheeked and strong around these hills of death that slowly seep the energy from any humans, animals, or even sturdy root crops

“So, uh, this is actually my demon baby,” said Wei Wuxian as they all settled in

“this day has been so weird already, this might as well goddamn happen”, said the Wens collectively

“You created a living child out of dead earth, so I’m going to take that as a yes that you can bring my brother back,” said Wen Qing specifically

“...fuck. I mean, yes. I mean - fuck,” said Wei Wuxian. “I- of course I will.”

(it doesn’t work like that, though)

The 52nd person to find out what A-Yuan is is Lan Wangji. Wei Wuxian very much does not tell him. They have a pleasant toy-shopping trip and lunch in town, and then the alarm talisman goes off and Wei Wuxian grabs A-Yuan and Lan Wangji tugs them both onto Bichen and when they arrive, Wen Ning is roaring. Lan Wangji knows what’s important; he takes A-Yuan so Wei Wuxian’s hands are free and he doesn’t have to worry about his son

except Wen Ning, black-eyed with rage, throws Wei Wuxian into a tree hard enough to crack a rib, and even as Lan Wangji raises Bichen, A-Yuan shouts,

“Uncle Ning, stop!”

and Wen Ning stops

(as a rule, Wei Wuxian can’t take over with himself and Chenqing anything A-Yuan is controlling, unless A-Yuan lets him, and vice versa. To eliminate variables, Wei Wuxian had made sure that any reins on Wen Ning were his (Wei Wuxian’s) alone. But in that moment, before Wen Ning came fully back to himself, his reins were swinging free - and they were back within the bounds of the Burial Mounds, where A-Yuan was always strong)

and Lan Wangji puts several pieces together at once and prays to every single god in heaven and every ancestor he’s disappointing right now that this was a miracle of love and a very cute child piercing through a fierce corpse’s mindless rampage. That he simply...hallucinated the burst of resentful energy he just felt from the child in his arms

but he’s absolutely, utterly aware that he didn’t

Wei Wuxian explains, stilted and awkward at the bottom of the hill. Challenging and terrified. Holding on to A-Yuan. 

Lan Wangji promises to keep the secret. 

Wei Wuxian takes Hanguang-jun’s word

Remember, oh, remember, that Wei Wuxian walks A-Yuan back up the hill until A-Yuan gets tired and Wei Wuxian picks him up, on their one-and-a-half–man plank bridge through the dark. Remember remember remember that before he can finish speaking that line, there is light - the clearing is lit with lanterns and secret-keepers 2 through 51, and I suppose 53 now that Wen Ning is awake, are waiting with dinner and warmth and welcome. Reader, remember this.

But then...

Aunt Qing and Uncle Ning had gone, and then, with a terrible expression on his face, so had A-Yuan’s baba. Now his baba’s anger and sadness is so strong that the weight of it makes A-Yuan cry from hundreds of miles away, and he curls into Granny’s arms and sends his baba everything he can. Will everything be okay, then? Will everyone come home; will they be able to smile again?

(oh, A-Yuan...)

(No.)

A-Yuan - Wei Yuan, Little Potato (when he’s good for baba or bad for Aunt Qing) or Little Radish (inverse); one day to be Lan Yuan, Lan Sizhui - was born in the good old fairy tale way of earth and iron and blood. It’s a hard thing for any child to lose even a single parent - in one day, in one minute, A-Yuan loses two of three, as the father of his blood burns away in hand the last shreds of Stygian iron, and promptly loses control of his own resentful energy

(the Tiger Seal does nothing like explode, in this world. It was never more than a prop - but a vital one. the benefit of proving it destroyed would be worth the loss of a parent, if only a second didn’t follow on its heels)

A-Yuan has been a dead thing (or close enough) come to life all his life, and both dead and living have been his friends and family. But he’s never felt the transition the other way: from life to death

It’s no wonder, really, that he can’t remember it afterward. No wonder that even on the land that was the last part of him, he was feverish and barely conscious when Lan Wangji stumbled, bleeding, off of Bichen, and took in his arms. No wonder that he remembered very little at all, including the dead. 

But he would be okay. Under physical and spiritual inspection, he’s a perfectly normal boy. He may not be able to form a golden core (there's something in the way), but there are...workarounds. He’ll grow up in one of the most heavily spiritually warded enclaves in the world, safe and loved as he relearns (mostly in secret) what he can do

(For the sake of this story, and A-Yuan’s survival as something close to canon, let’s say there are some truly dark things in the forbidden section of the Lan Library, that could only be used for nefarious purposes - though, I suppose we already knew that. Let’s say there are talismans that will disguise the very nature of qi, so resentful energy may appear spiritual. Let’s say, Lan Xichen becomes the 53rd to know the truth, because his brother needs help - and it’s Wei Wuxian’s child, okay? It’s just Wei Wuxian’s child, quiet and unsure rather than laughing as he always was. If you were in the inner circle of leaders of the Sunshot Campaign, you have absolutely met this child, probably held him and bounced him on one knee)

(What keeps Lan Xichen up at night isn’t the concealing amulet he helped his brother make, which Lan Yuan wears at all times around his neck. It’s the silence he keeps every time he meets Jiang Wanyin’s eyes over a diplomatic table. If anyone had the right to know Wei Yuan survived... But Sandu Sengshou killed Wei Wuxian, everyone knows that, and now he hunts demonic cultivators - what might his pride drive him to do to his nephew, if he ever learned the truth? (Selfishly, Lan Xichen know that if Lan Wangji lost A-Yuan, even just to living at Lotus Pier, Lan Xichen might lose his brother. That fear ebbs with time passing, but the the longer he hasn’t spoken, the worse it would be to do so...))

They don’t restrict Lan Yuan to the Cloud Recesses, no more than any other novice. For memory of their mother, neither of them could bear that. Jiang Cheng does eventually see him at a conference, and stops dead. Years have passed, but that is an entire goddamn nephew, right there. But - how? No, it can’t be. That’s...everyone knows Lan Wangji hated Wei Wuxian. It’s just...and someone would have told him. The Lans value propriety above all, after all.

Anything that can be done with spiritual cultivation can be done with demonic cultivation, save heal. Lan Sizhui makes up for it with an encyclopedic knowledge of undead and monsters, and a prodigal talent for Inquiry

On their first night hunt, the young juniors face ghosts. Unfortunately, this is when Lan Jingyi learns that he’s terrified of ghosts. He’s hiding behind Lan Sizhui and panic is contagious, and the senior accompanying them is in a different room of the abandoned house, and Lan Sizhui forgets that he’s holding a sword and just shouts, “Stop! Go away!” 

the ghost, of course, obeys

Lan Jingyi peeks out form behind him. “Did- did you do that?”

“I don’t know,” Lan Sizhui admits (except that he’s absolutely sure he did)

There’s another flicker of movement, just the wind blowing ashes but Jingyi whips around with wild eyes. “Can you do it again?”

[friendship. my point is, he’s a demon baby but he has family and friends who love and accept him.]

And one day, some absolute fucking morons are going to bring him back home, where he can never be anything but strong, and threaten his friends and family? And the threat is an army of his old playmates, commanded by an attempt at recreating some combination of Chenqing and the Tiger Seal? He couldn’t manage it in Yi City, but now A-Yuan, Wei Yuan, Lan Sizhui stands on earth that has never stopped being part of him, or maybe he’s never stopped being part of it. If he closed his eyes he could feel every foot on it, living and restless dead. And they’re threatening his baba - who he remembers, as the earth remembers its old partner, even though the blood is changed - and his father Hanguang-jun, and his extended family and friends?

No.

[crowtoed]

WELCOME TO ANOTHER EPISODE OF:

Crow has watched the Deutschland video waaaaay too much but keeps finding things. Let’s preface this with I am not German, have never lived in Germany, but I have a degree in history with a minor in anthropology, so maybe that helps a bit.

0:06- This scene is set after the Battle of the Teutoburg Forest, but I still find it funny that Till’s the scout/individual slaughtered. The disgraced Roman commander who famously lost Augustus’ legions was Publius QuincTILius Varus and I laughed a history nerd’s laugh. It is a lonely laugh. 0:39- There are 3 bodies hanging from the tree. Perhaps a reference to the three slaughtered legions of Varus?

1:13- The boys (sans Till’s body) are wheeling Germania, who’s still dressed in her GDR outfit through a burning charnel house/crypt. VlogDave on youtube has posited her being in the wheelchair representing a feeling of weakness in identity or purpose. Maybe post unification she’s still reeling trying to figure out who she is? The contemplative look says a lot and the boys trying to usher her calmly past this inferno o’ skeletons, nobody bothered. 1:35- Germania’s planting her standard in the battlefield, summoning the boys. Perhaps symbolizing how nationalism has the intense power to rouse people. Some are winners (Reesh, Schneider), but most are losers (Till and Flake shish-kebab’d). And as shown later, everybody ends up dead in gruesome ways. 2:01- Till’s expression is like somebody told him he has a press interview in an hour. 2:08- Paul’s tiny glasses are a fucking delight. 2:47- Four bodies hanging from the archway. NO IDEA WHAT THEY REPRESENT, other than the lighting is making them look different colors (green?). 2:48- So another theory from VlogDave is that the monks gorging symbolizes the corruption of the church during the Middle Ages. You have the church feasting on the country’s bounty while a group of trapped people (maybe representing the majority peasantry) are supporting their gluttony (and a few other sins) just barely out of sight. WHILE PLAGUE RATS ARE RUNNING AROUND (soooo 14th/15th century). ALSO notice how Olli doesn’t participate was as much gusto as.. say… Schneider (gdi, Doom). He almost tries to console Germania. This may sound bunk, but I think Olli is supposed to symbolize Martin Luther and the Protestant Reformation. 2:52- In an alternative universe where Rammstein was a more mainstream rock band, this is what Till’s hair would really look like. Don’t think about it too much. Also this is not what I had in mind when I envisioned Till’s head emerging from between a woman’s legs. 3:04- SCHNEIDER WHAT IS YOUR FUCKING FACE, SIR. WOW. 3:21- When U see an old pic of urself from high school. No but seriously, clever set of shots to represent looking back on your own harsh history. 3:51- Flake’s face has so much expression and character. Love it. 3:58- Huuuh looks like they shaved or applied a prosthetic to Flake’s head for the WWII scene. 4:03- Paul has an extra apple box to make him at the same height as Till. 4:06- Again, VlogDave’s got some great commentary on Germania and Richard’s eye trauma in the WWII scenes. The English translation would be “to turn a blind eye”. In addition, Reesh may also be sporting a Mensur scar or ‘Schmisse’, acquired from academic fencing. They were all the rage for fashionable and socially elite Germans from the mid-19th to the end of WWII, with a lot of Nazi officers having them. His scar being on the left might symbolize an injury from an opponent from “the left side”. 4:19- As a former vintage clothing store clerk, the boys’ outfits in the RAF/70s era slay me. Especially Olli’s corduroy jacket and Reesh’s razor-sharp lapels. 4:34- Germania is always in the colors of her nation’s flag. While she doesn’t have any red on her in the prison/WWI scenes, she’s in the colors of the Empire of Prussia and one of the iconic hussar uniforms. During the period Princess Victoria Louise did photoshoots wearing a similar uniform to inspire morale- which goes with Germania’s role as icon. 4:41- I like the comparison and combination of the Nazi bookburning and the Early Modern witch burning being of the same spirit- the willful and ignorant destruction of humanity. And oh look, the church is complicit in both. (Not surprising with Rammstein’s attitude towards -particularly the Catholic- church). 4:49- Some folks have posited that Germania in modern attire making out with Till’s severed head symbolizes looking back and trying to romanticize the past. Which is futile, because the past is dead and also pretty gross. Seriously, babe, you’ve been holding on to that thing for- what? 2000 years? Also he doesn’t seem that into it... 4:51- BOOM, Saint Hubert’s stag. Religious and also alcoholic symbolism! 4:51- Also I think this is meant to be the future. We have a repentant, pregnant Germania in white. Also she’s tending the busts of the band, which are a reference to the Walhalla Memorial. Her role is venerating the good aspects of culture/history. The boys also have some brass balls inferring that they’ll be memorialized with the other movers and shakers of German culture in the future. Germania seems uncertain, scared. She isn’t confident in the role and needs the assistance of the future!boys to give birth (TO A NEW NATIONAL IDENTITY?) 5:00 ish- I think the following are Germania remembering her past and how things fell apart or ended in each of these epochs, which might explain the rapid fire editing and melding together. 5:13- Till in a kettle helm and Paul holding a flaming goddamned sword (he thinks he has divine might on his side?) is my favorite. 5:16- So apparently these sweet babies are Leonbergers, which are a German breed that almost went extinct in the wake of WWII. They’ve since made a comeback. I think it’s meant to symbolize a more peaceful Germany. You have the German Shepards (with a reputation as a more martial breed) in the past- as well as wolves- then for the future you have these notoriously gentle boofs. They’re sweeter, hard workers, but still very German. Also Till has a history of putting his family in music videos. 5:53- I’M PROUD OF YOU OLLI. 6:00- FUCK NAZIS. 6:14- Till, your jacket is too small on you. Which if it’s vintage, makes sense, because you are a meat mountain and vintage runs small. Also Reesh has seen this all before. 6:18- Till is fucking a bearskin rug while cosplaying as Erich Honeker. This is therapeutic considering his history with the Stasi, I suspect. 6:20- Her pose reminds me of a tomb effigy you see in early modern churches. 6:30/31- I don’t know what this means, but Olli is holding a puppy so everything’s all right. 6:32- She doesn’t seem to know what to do with herself. Whether this is uncertainty as the symbol of a peaceful nation after centuries of war and atrocities or an allegorical postpartum depression... but... puppies? 6:35- FUCK THIS I WANT TO SEE THE BTS WITH EVERYONE HOLDING PUPPIES. 6:38- Germania has doves attached to her shoes. Another symbol of her in a peaceful role for the modern age. Now the symbolism of the doves being dead, WELL… 6:43- See you later, Space Personification. Additional thought: Germania needed a better hoop skirt, her silhouette in the big red gown was starting bothering me once I’d noticed it.

[thatsnotperiod-blog]

television. pilot. bbc’s jonathan strange and mr norrell is my favorite show i’ve never seen because its whole thing is making an interesting concept (magic) boring by piling on a regency setting, academia, and early 19th century british nationalism. 

Starts out with a raven. It seems hungry! Some guy is putting water and some other dumb crap (is that a broken pen?) in a bowl while his servants watch. He looks like a nerd. The magic didn’t work. But is he in want of a wife? 

He kind of bumbles out to a side street, and, TITLE. 

Sidestreet bumbler bumbles on past a bookstore and is observed in a sinister way by a man who looks really, really similar to him, but is actually a totally separate man. BBC original series are perilous like this. The sinister man is just getting a book so it’s fine though. Ah, Book People. 

Then a narrator tells me that, “Some years ago there was in York a society of magicians. They met on the third Wednesday of every month, and read each other long, dull papers upon the history of English magic.” The narrator is a dumb idea but just the phrase “dull papers” has my heart pounding. This narration is cut with Our Hero bumbling up to one such meeting, attended by the Most British-Looking Men Available, many in wigs. 

Our Hero is revealed to be an anxious-voiced dilettante called Mr Segundus and he wants to know, “Why is magic no longer done in England?” and his question is greeted with derision, which tells me a couple things, in order 1. that magic may be done elsewhere but certainly is not in France, because if the French were doing magic, Horatio Nelson would be doing it too 2. that magic is probably alive and well in Scotland 3. Mr Segundus must not be in want of a wife as clearly he is not in possession of a good fortune and Mrs Bennet will have to turn her sights elsewhere! 

Mr Segundus gets cornered outside by a man who introduces himself as Honeyfoot (lol) and it’s Brian Pettifer, one of the Several Actors of Britain! He was Couthon in that 2009 French Revolution movie, Mr Raggles in Vanity Fair, Wheeler in To the Ends of the Earth, Poupart (not Poptart) in the Musketeers, and many other things (Growler in Bleak House, Boycott in Garrow’s Law)! Good to see you, Brian Pettifer!

Anyway Honeyfoot (lol) is like, Mr Segundus I agree with you, people should be doing magic. But apparently the books about how to do it are super rare -- even in York! They hit up a book store, and seems like Segundus tried to reserve some magic books but the asshole store owner sold them already. Segundus, visibly deflated, asks if the guy has anything on “the nature of clouds” which, jesus, being a gigantic nerd in the 19th century is so fucking bleak if clouds is your fallback. OMG it was a ruse! While the guy is off looking for cloud books, Segundus hops over the counter and snatches the cash sheet to “find the devil who keeps swiping my books!”

Someone named Norrell, they discover, is the devil in question. They hop in a carriage to go find him. They talk magic on the way there, and Segundus says he bought a nonfunctional spell from a street magician who threw in a free prophecy: “Magic will be returned to England by two magicians.” 

Honeyfoot (lol) is like, “We are two magicians. John Segundus and Mr Honeyfoot (lol)” which is the same construction as the title of the show but ... not ... the right guys. Turns out the street magician set expectations already and Segundus shoots him down. RIP, John Segundus & Mr Honeyfoot, the Show That Never Was. 

They arrive at Mr Norrell’s pad and are admitted by the Sinister Bookstore Guy from earlier. Mr Norrell is a grouchy alpha nerd who has read Segundus’s publications but wants to throw out some criticism anyway. Segundus and Honeyfoot geek sweetly over Norrell’s library. Segundus repeats his question again and the camera zooms hard on Mr Norrell, who says, “It is a wrong question, sir. Magic is not ended in England. I myself am quite a tolerable practical magician.”

! O H S H I T !

Back at the York Society of Extremely British Men, this assertion is shouted down as “absolute tripe.” They decide that they’ll write to Norrell and ask him to show them some magic or shut up. 

York Minster. Nighttime. The Society approaches the front steps, observing that it’s the hour and place appointed but Norrell has clearly chickened out. 

“Mr Norrell concedes defeat!” says their beefiest guy. 

But then Sinister Bookstore guy (his name is Childermass, and I guess he���s Norrell’s servant) appears saying no, Norrell doesn’t concede shit, he’ll just be working from home today, and also he wants everybody to sign a contract promising they will no longer call themselves magicians if he succeeds at magic. Everybody signs, except Segundus, who is like “magic is my life u can’t take it.” Bleak.

Meanwhile Mr Norrell is doing a typical work-from-home where he’s watching Real Housewives of New Jersey in his PJs. Just kidding, he’s waving his hands over a bowl of water. How do people in this show keep themselves from accidentally doing magic while shaving?

The Society wanders into York Minster. Childermass, building his character, finds stuff to lean against. Bells chime.

And then, MAGIC! Some of the carvings at the top of the clustered columns in the nave are talking, and it is real creepy because they’re talking about a murder they witnessed, until the camera gets up there and they look like Statler and Waldorf. The York Society are all freaking out. 

Cut to the rood screen, which of course features statues of all the kings of England and they’re bickering. OK. There’s a Richard III joke which I tepidly laughed at. A carving of a woman with a harp is singing, and a statue of a former archbishop (as York Minster is, in fact, actually a cathedral) yells at Beefy in Latin.

Then the magic is over. Norrell, at home, collapses back in his chair, because a WFH day also involves a lot of early booze. The York Society is invigorated, then sad because they all signed the We’re Not Magicians paper. 

The next day, the York Society of No Longer Magicians is taking down all their signs (lol) while Childermass, building his character, leans back in their chairs and smokes. Segundus says he’s just happy that “magic is restored to England” but then, Segundus didn’t sign shit. 

“Do you think,” Segundus asks Childermass, “Mr Norrell would be offended if I wrote to the London newspapers of this?”

Childermass is like, yes he would be offended, but do it anyway: “I rather think my master has hidden his talent long enough. It’s time for him to take his place, and London is where I will take him.” 

OK then Mr. World’s Worst Press Secretary. 

Meanwhile! Elsewhere! A man rides a horse while Charlotte Riley (!) attends church. Horse Guy is bugging Charlotte Riley from the window, and she hilariously ignores him, but meets him on the way out. 

He’s listing the ways he has reformed himself for her, not playing cards, not flirting with anybody in Brighton (but the Bennets might be there!) not drinking as much, etc. His name is Jonathan, hers is Arabella, and apparently they are in love. All Arabella wants from him is for him to find “a way to occupy [his] time” instead of “perpetual holiday.” 

He gets on one knee, missing the point and saying that he sees he must act. 

“Jonathan,” she says. “Do not act. Think.”

The camera zooms to him to imply that this has not occurred before. 

*** IT’S DAD TIME ***

Jonathan is apparently being prevented from having any occupation by his Mean Old Dad, who tortures the servants and harangues his son for being useless. He sounds like the Mean Old Dad from Moulin Rouge a little.

But it gets worse! “You have proven yourself a failure at everything you have done,” says Mean Old Dad, “and you will have no assistance finding an occupation while I am yet living.”

Yikes! Later. 

Jonathan -- It’s Jonathan Strange, ok, it’s him, the other guy in the show -- is getting a drink with Arabella’s brother and probably venting about his Mean Old Dad. And, yep, there it is: “My father delights in torturing me, as he tortures his servants ... as he tortured my mother.” Wow, that’s the same word I used like two paragraphs up!

“All I’ve ever truly wished for was your sister,” says Strange, clearly thinking that is a sweet thing to say instead of a gross one. Arabrother leaves, and Strange empties a flask into his cup. wellllllllp.

Morning. Hangover. Someone is rapping at the chamber door. Strange’s servants are here to get him because his Mean Old Dad is locked in his office. Turns out he’s mean old dead!

Funeral. Strange triumphant. He wonders how long he should wait before asking Arabella to marry him. 

London! Norrell and Childermass in a carriage, reading Norrell’s press clips. He is causing Quite a Stir, which apparently is his intention, or Childermass’s. Norrell is pissed off that London is loud and expensive and that his WSJ crosshatch portrait isn’t flattering. OK, guy. They pass by a street magician who is talking about “the Raven King” and then gives Norrell the world’s weirdest stare. Norrell bitches that street magicians give the practice of magic an “such an appalling name” and Childermass does a stage mom thing where he tells Norrell that he is the only one who has any real talent and the future of his art depends on him: “This is what you have worked for. This is your great opportunity. If all goes well here, when folk think of a magician...”

“...They will think of myself,” says Norrell, with chilling self-reverence. Childermass gives him a little more pep talk and sends him out of the carriage. What -- what kind of dynamic did I just watch? 

New scene. Parliament. Somebody’s yelling, and -- is that Samuel West?! -- and Samuel West (!) is looking bored. Nobody told me Samuel West was in this show! Wow! Samuel West. 

Norrell is wandering boringly through the halls. 

Turns out Samuel West is the target of the parliamentary harangue (which is, from what I understand of Actual Parliament, just punching the clock for these guys) and has the decency to look a little ashamed of it. His name in the show is Sir Walter Pole, not Samuel West. He stands to rebut, and does so with all the sneering, grandstanding, and rhetorical posturing that constitute the parliamentary equivalent of “slow Monday.”

He tosses a zinger to the opposition leader on his way out, and Norrell tries to lobby him in the, uh, lobby. But Sir Walter just scoots into his office, and one of his servants shuts the door in Norrell’s face. The servant says, he knows Norrell has an appointment, but can they move the meeting to Chez Sir Walter instead of the office? 

Scene change. Chez Sir Walter. There’s a lady there who tries to snob Norrell, and it works until she hits on an academic subject. They discuss “fairy servants” and Norrell explains that fairies are trouble-with-a-capital-t-and-that-rhymes-with-p-and-that-stands-for-pool. 

The servant/scheduler from earlier is handing out tea, and we learn that his name is Stephen. 

Norrell states his intention: to use magic to help in the war. Sir Walter is totally snowed by this, and thinks maybe magic could be used to clean up uniforms or like, entertain people maybe? He Doesn’t Get It. Norrell, clearly the IT guy of his day, heaves a sigh.

There’s a young woman coughing pathetically and curled up on a chaise longue in the background, and Sir Walter introduces her as his fiancée Emma, like it’s totally normal to be this sick in somebody’s living room. Norrell is very surprisingly sweet to her, and she says she’s pretty into magic. Norrell suggests hot tea with lemon and nutmeg for her cough. Sir Walter kicks him out with a lecture: “Magic is not respectable. The government cannot meddle in such things.” OK.

“How’d it go?” says Childermass, back in the carriage.

“Very well,” says Norrell, on the verge of tears. I’m not letting go of the stage mom analogy because it seems to get more and more on the nose. Norrell notices they’re not going home, and Childermass says nope, they’re going Lady Godstone’s house: “It’s a soiree.”

“A party?” says Norrell, looking devastated. “I wish to go home and read a book.”

Norrell at a party. It’s like those MBTI specialized hells, and this is INTJ hell. It’s crowded, people are laughing, and Norrell doesn’t know anyone, but they’re all gossiping about him. Norrell escapes INTJ Hell and shuts himself in the host’s library, or INTJ Heaven. Ah, dichotomy. 

After a minute of Alone Time with Books, Norrell is interrupted by two Party People. Party Guy 1 is harassing the Party Guy 2, apparently the host, about how Norrell was promised, but no magic seems to have been did. “That gentleman is reading a book!” he says, of Norrell, to demonstrate how boring and amagical the party is. 

Norrell interrupts them and kind of says hi I’m the guy you’re talking about. They both recover awkwardly. Party Guy 2 introduces himself as Drawlight, and Party Guy 1 as Lascelles. Drawlight tries to drag Norrell out to introduce him to people and Norrell slips out the back. 

He’s met at outside by like the street magician from earlier, who says some creepy stuff to him: “You think yourself a very fine fellow, hoarding books like a miser hoards gold. But I have a book you won’t find in your library, or any other.”

Norrell tries to get back inside, but the doors have locked behind him. 

“It’s written by the Raven King,” says the creepy guy. Norrell makes the face I make when someone tells me they saw a spider in their shower five years ago, which is to say absolute living nightmare horror. “And it tells me all about you.”

Creepy Guy introduces himself as Vinculus, magician of Threadneedle Street, so abruptly that Norrell almost pees. He goes on that Norrell’s coming was foretold, and while he’s doing this he’s leaning in and menacing him in like, kind of an overboard way? 

Norrell scoots away and, feeling safer, snottily shouts that magic can’t tell the future and only total hacks make prophecies. He undermines this by continually yelling for Childermass. 

Vinculus keeps going: Two magicians will appear in England, one will be Fearfulness and one will be Arrogance. Some stuff will happen, both will fail, some other stuff. Norrell is stuck on the two magicians thing. Vinculus wanders off, and Norrell shouts for Childermass again. He looks really scared! 

Back Chez Norrell, Childermass is trying to calm Norrell down, and asks what Vinculus wanted. Norrell hysterics that he mentioned a book, “and if he does have a book, I want it, and then I want to go home to Yorkshire.” 

Childermass plays hardball: “Do you wish to make a success of this, or do you not?”

New Day. Childermass watches Vinculus sell spells on the street. Norrell meets Drawlight and Lascelles in his house and, surprise surprise, they want a favor, to be the guys who get credit for discovering him. Norrell is refusing, he doesn’t want to attend parties or do dumb stuff, he wants to go home.

Meanwhile, Vinculus and Childermass are talking brass tacks about whether Norrell will get Vinculus’s book. Childermass chooses an odd method of intimidation by like, threateningly whipping out some tarot cards to tell Vinculus’s fortune. I mean, if that’s worked before... Vinculus tries to one-up him by telling Norrell’s fortune. Is this like, a tarot duel? Vinculus has turned all the cards to kings, and says it means that “the Raven King is coming.” Childermass is pissed that his cards are all messed up now. I know!

Chez Norrell. On their way out, Drawlight and Lascelles gleefully mention that Sir Walter’s fiancée is dead. Well, she was pretty sick. Norrell starts to mutter about how hard it is to bring someone back from the dead. Drawlight transparently eggs him on. 

“I will need to send for more books,” says Norrell. He’s so into this plan! 

New scene. Jonathan Strange finds some peasants doing something poor, and rides up to interfere. They explain that they’ve found a magician sleeping under the hedge. What? Sure. It’s Vinculus. 

Vinculus wakes up, stares right at Jonathan, and gives him the two magicians, Fear and Arrogance, speech while stumbling around. Jonathan Strange looks very confused. He’s also holding a large stick for reasons that are obscure to me. Vinculus tells Strange that he is destined to become a great magician. Strange pokes him with his stick and tells him to choose someone else, because it sounds like being a magician sucks. Still, he buys two spells from Vinculus, probably because a nice patrician power move is to condescendingly buy someone’s wares. 

That night at dinner, Strange is telling Arabella about his big plan for the farm he’s inherited, and she laughs at him because the plan is bad.

“Very well, I’m going to study magic,” he says. Arabella and her brother are shocked. They all look at the spells and Strange decides to like, do one, right there at the table. It’s a spell to discover what your enemy is doing presently. It works, and Strange sees a stranger, apparently his enemy, in a mirror. 

“Good magicians conjure up fairy spirits and long-dead kings,” says Strange. “I appear to have summoned the spirit of a banker.” It’s Mr Norrell. Ha!

London, Norrell. He arrives at Sir Walter’s house with a huge book. Sir Walter gives him access to the room where Poor Dead Emma is like, dead. Norrell shuts them out, alone with the corpse, and opens his book, looking terrified. 

There’s silence, and something rattles, and a man with Ziggy Stardust hair and huge eyebrows appears. He’s also got a synthed voice and a weird jacket that I can’t pause on to figure out. He is clearly a fairy, and Norrell clearly summoned him, and he acknowledges that Norrell is destined to return magic to England. He does some back and forth about “what do I get if I resurrect this woman.” He wants to help Norrell and get credit, Norrell wants him to do this one quick necromancy and never be summoned again. The fairy does the old “maybe I will take my business to your competitor” and Norrell freaks out: “There is no other magician.”

“Of course there is another magician,” says the fairy. “He is your dearest friend in all the world.”

“I have no friends,” says Norrell. I laugh. He asks the fairy again if he can do the necromancy. 

The fairy says, if he gets half of Emma’s life, it’s on. Norrell looks sad, but then he asks if they should sign something. The fairy is like no, I’ll just take something of Emma’s. The shadow of his hand stretches over her. Yikes!

Cut to Drawlight and Lascelles hanging out downstairs. They hear a woman scream. Double yikes! Everybody runs upstairs and Emma is fighting her way out of her funeral shroud. Triple yikes! Her mother points out that half of her little finger on her left hand is missing. Quadruple yikes! She brushes it off, looking out of it, and asks Sir Walter to dance with her. 

Norrell zombie-walks out to his carriage. Quintuple yikes!

Until next time, Favorite Show!

[aharris00britney]

@agentwashsims​ said: I️ knew you wouldn’t disappoint on the curly hairs!

Thank youu! lmao it is a pretty basic edit but I'm glad you like it ;-;

Anonymous said: Could you convert the solid colored EA Cruella DeVille style for girls or tots?

Actually it has already been converted HERE (warning: she uses an ad thing :( )

@verdigreedy​ said: You're doing a great job! Thank you for sharing with us!           

Thank you ;-; RIP imagine that there are cc creators out there that don't share ;-; how much cc are we missing out on

@simmiezoo​ said: I would love a flipped version of the Zoey hair - I usually use hairs that are flipped the other side. I don't know if it's easy to do. Just a suggestion! It looks great btw. :) 

I can try! No promises though lmao it should be pretty easy but sometimes it isn't

Anonymous said: Brady hair won't show up. Do I need to have Pets installed? I don't have it.            

Hey! @ayoshi​ tested it, Braxton, Jordie, and Zoey hairs for me and they all showed up fine for him. He does not have Cats & Dogs installed so that isn't the issue. I think you have to have the most recent game update.

Anonymous said: Hello. Can i find out what kind of lenses do you use on sims?💚💚💚            

I actually updated to quartz V2 a few days ago, and recolored them in 20 more swatches! Jade is gonna let me post my non-defaults, I just have to finish the previews

@lizziesimmer​ said: The link to your post of the clumsy braids are gone! I don't know what happened to them but I need them back!!   

Yeah, I had planned on revamping them ;-; I still do! Just haven't worked on them in a few months weeks lmao hopefully I can get them finished soon

Anonymous said: Thank you so much for not using Ad.fly and making it easy for everyone to just download your CC without having to go through an ad hell  <3 Talented and considerate.. what more do we need :)            

Aaaaah no problem!! There are tons of creators that don't use ad.fly! or at least give you the option of ad.fly or not

Anonymous said: Bless u for editing that middle part curly hair from cats and dogs. It made me feel like my sims was George fucking Washington.            

rhfdncv omggg screaming it does look kinda like a George Washington hair

Anonymous said: Will u make a Arilee Hair without the Bangs ? That would be so awesome ❤️ Love u and the cc u make. Such an talented person u are. Lots of love.            

Awe thank youu!! Yeah I am gonna finish the no-bangs version sometime this week and get it out <3

Anonymous said: do you know if anyone that has (or could you hehe) remake those toddler camo pants for adult sims

I don't actually :( and I sadly am not that good at cc clothes ;-; maybe another creator will see this and try it out

Anonymous said: I just wanted to say that you're my favorite CC maker c': I just adore your work and how unique your cc is! <3 You have so much talent and I can't wait to see more from you.            

SO SWEET!!!!!!!!!! YOU GUYS R LITERALLY SO NICE AND JUST GOOD PEOPLE ;-;

Anonymous said: I think your Jordie Hair may have caused my game to bug, I got the never loading ring of death :/ Cute hair though           

Hey! As I said before, @ayoshi​ tested it and my othe recent hairs for me, and his game was fine :( a lot of mods broke with the patch so it is probably one of them

Anonymous said: I love all the stuff you make! You're super talented!

Omggg no I'm not ;-; thank you though, I'm glad you like it

Anonymous said: Does your username mean anything?            

A - Austin, Harris - my last name lolol, 00 - for 2000 aka the year i wss born, Britney - for the legendary Miss Britney Spears

@simnook​ said: You make the most amazing cc and it’s been cool to see how much you have improved since you first started. love your blog so much 💚

Thank you dude!! Literally I bet it was a journey to see my old cc previews vs now! Like last night I went back and looked at the previews for my Roseanne hair and i didnt fill in the area behind the '18 ea colors' all the way and just GOD I cringe at myself

@cowplant-pizza​ said: hi love! just wanted to ask if you are working on the middle parted curly hair from cats & dogs! its a tad flat imo, and i trust you more than anyone to do it justice!!! ily ♥         

This was sent before I released my Zoey hair :P hope you liked that

@simsinsanmyshuno​ said: yooo i have a suggestion: can you make that one floofy curly hair from C&D (lmao the bigger curly hair for women) shorter i feel like it would look really cute like shoulder length            

I think @wild-pixel is working on a hair like that actually!!

Anonymous said: the jordie hair is so cute!! thank you for everything you do for the community!

<3

Anonymous said:Hi I was wondering if we have to pets for you newest toddler hair to work?      

As long as the post/preview says BGC, it means it is Base Game Compatible :) I do think, however, you have to have the most recent update to the base game

@spideywil921​ said: Omg could you potentially make a child version of the Half Up Do with the braids from Cats & Dogs???            

I might if nobody else has done it by like Tuesday??

Anonymous said: Can you do recolors on some of the male CAS tops in pets? You’re one of my favorite cc makers and I love your stuff 😩😩 

Lololol I am not that good of a recolor, I actually recolored 4 CC tops a week ago and have the post in my drafts still contemplating about posting them ;-;

Anonymous said: You should start a gameplay            

rip nooooo

Anonymous said: So, I love shaved hair, so I checked out the hairs, and while looking for a hair, I came across Tae Hair, so long story short--- where can I download it? It isn't in the list.            

It's in there :) just click the download and you should be able to find it

@deviants​ said: hey! this is super random but I’ve been watching you create content for a while now and tbh you've gotten so fantastic!! you’re one of my favourite CC makers :)     

Aweeeee thank you so much <3 I'm glad you call me one of your favorites

Anonymous said: Hi, where did you get the scar eyebrow in your Rebecca hair?  <3            

Please check my resource page! It is listed in there on Lora's cc chart

Anonymous said: Hey I love your cc!! Are we able to download the sims you make? They're just so perfect. What's your origin id? xx   

Thank you!! I am gonna work on getting Taylor and my male Sim posted this week :)

@itacorcoran said: I wanted to say your content is so amazing! It's the best sims 4 hair i've ever seen its unique and interesting and barely any clipping if at all :D I hope you're well i pretty much download every sim hair i see on here ^^     

Thank you!!! My hairs def aren't unique but I appreciate it!

Anonymous said: Which did you prefer, likey or knock knock?    

Right now I really like Likey but Knock Knock is soooo good I think it will overpower Likey later down the road.  Same thing happened with Signal

@simskru​ said: I'm literally in love with you and everything you've created, just saying       

TYSM!!! That is so nice ;-;

[draconicroyalty]

A Squad Isn’t a Squad Without a ChatRoom

My excuse for this is that I love chat room fanfics. Also, huge crossover and massive oc x canon.-

Fandoms: DMC, Bayonetta, Inuyasha

Genre: Crack, with a side of romance

Chapter One - Furries, Monster Fuckers and Dinner

                                     [BALDER created Group Chat]

[BALDER changed the name Group Chat to Fucking Insomnia]

[BALDER added SPARDA]

[BALDER added TOUGA]

[Balder added DANIYAL]

DANIYAL: who tf is creating group chats at 4am BALDER: me, dipshit, i can't sleep DANIYAL: well boo hoo, suck it up and bang your head against somethin BALDER: why are u so cranky DANIYAL: it's 4am and my first class tomorrow is maths do you really wanna ask me why tf i'm mad BALDER: fair enough BALDER: is sparda awake DANIYAL: nah DANIYAL: has been snoring for a good 5 hours BALDER: wait, he snores?? DANIYAL: ya BALDER: omg DANIYAL: what about dog boy BALDER: playing dating simulators DANIYAL: you're kidding BALDER: i wish i was DANIYAL: YO DOG BOY WTF TOUGA: TF U WANT DANIYAL: STOP TRYING TO GET INTO A BISHIE'S PANTS U WEEB, GO TO SLEEP FFS TOUGA: why are u awake BALDER: yeah nice question DANIYAL: um DANIYAL: studying? TOUGA: bullshit BALDER: bet you're playing lol again and mad cuz of the trolls DANIYAL: IT'S 4AM, TROLLS AREN'T SUPPOSED TO BE HERE, WHY DO I ONLY GET YASUOS IN MY TEAM BALDER: there there, baby, there there SPARDA: Dafuck is all this noise DANIYAL: u r awake??? SPARDA: yah, someone mutters what they type a bit too loud DANIYAL: srry bae SPARDA: np bby TOUGA: stop DANIYAL: why BALDER: you're reminding him he's single DANIYAL: that's cuz he's a furry SPARDA: LOOOOOL DANIYAL: before anyone asks spar actually laughed while typing that TOUGA: ASHFKDSKGHKSJAHL BALDER: touga, words. not keysmashes. TOUGA: IMF NSOT A FURRTY DANIYAL: what??? SPARDA: i think the poor furry is trying to type he ain't a furry

[DANIYAL changed the name Fucking Insomnia to FURRY CONFIRMED]

BALDER: lol BALDER: dan u r aware that he will try to kill you tomorrow DANIYAL: np i got a spray bottle TOUGA: KLHAFDSHGKGH FUCK U DANIYAL: MY PARTNERS DO THAT BALDER: sometimes i forget our boy's poly DANIYAL: i love all my boyfriends, girlfriends and significant others equally and if anyone hurts them i'll pull their guts out and eat them TOUGA: ew BALDER: scary SPARDA: i say him throwing a guy that was harassing one of his classmates into the trash once DANIYAL: i was practicing slam dunks and he looked like a basketball TOUGA: how does a guy look like a basketball DANIYAl: he was wearing orange and black BALDER: fair enough SPARDA: like this is fun but SPARDA: it's 4:22 am SPARDA: we should sleep TOUGA: alright mom BALDER: goodnight mom SPARDA: mom?? pretty sure i didn't conceive such ugly children DANIYAl: OH SNAP BALDER: SPARDA WE'RE LITERALLY TWINS?? SPARDA: LOOK AT ME, I'M THE PRETTY ONE BALDER: BEAUTY MARKS DON'T AUTOMATICALLY MAKE U THE PRETTY ONE TOUGA: aaaand there they go DANIYAL: babe stop angrily typing SPARDA: he started BALDER: NO I DIDNT??? DANIYAL: i know babe i know BALDER: HE LITERALLY STARTED THIS??? TOUGA: give up bal it's better BALDER: jsfslghjhg im going to bed TOUGA: nighty night BALDER: stop playing dream daddy and go to sleep too TOUGA: make me DANIYAL: WAIT U PLAY DREAM DADDY??? TOUGA: YA DANIYAL: favorite dad? TOUGA: brian DANIYAL: ....your fave's the bear. u furry. TOUGA: shUT UP TOUGA: who's your fave?? DANIYAL: matt TOUGA: why am i not surprised DANIYAL: he's a cINNAMON ROLL AND I WILL PROTECT HIM WITH MY LIFE SPARDA: babe log off lol DANIYAL: but babe...the IP.... SPARDA: tomorrow, babe, tomorrow DANIYAL: fine...night, u furry TOUGA: aadlkfjsghAHJSGHSKJ NOT A FURRY BALDER: furry [BALDER is OFFLINE]

[SPARDA is OFFLINE]

[DANIYAL is OFFLINE]

TOUGA: fuck y'all [TOUGA is OFFLINE]

[DANIYAL is ONLINE]

[DANIYAL added EVA]

[DANIYAL added AMASIS]

[DANIYAL added MAALIK]

[DANIYAL added JUURAH]

[DANIYAL added NATHANIEL]

[DANIYAL added LUKAH]

EVA: baby! DANIYAL: babe! AMASIS: what tf is this DANIYAL: balder couldn't sleep and created a group chat DANIYAL: so since i liked the idea and was super supportive when he created it i thought about adding more people AMASIS: oh JUURAH: LMAO IS THE NAME OF THE GROUP CHAT ABOUT TOUGA DANIYAL: scroll up bro JUURAH: omg that furry MAALIK: why tf were you all awake at 4am DANIYAL: balder had insomnia, i was playing league, touga was seducing daddies and i woke up spar MAALIK: that game's not good for u, i'm tellin ya DANIYAL: too bad i don't give a fuck MAALIK: ow DANIYAL: where's my baby boy? NATHANIEL: for the last time i'm 2 MINUTES YOUNGER THAN U DANIYAL: baby boy <3 EVA: (*^_^*) thats cute DANIYAL: you're cute

[SPARDA is ONLINE]

SPARDA: you're both cute AMASIS: sparda is summoned as soon as eva and dan start being cute, wow SPARDA: you do it too AMASIS: not with eva AMASIS: no offense darling EVA: it's ok (*´∀`*) DANIYAL: so pure MAALIK: if we're talkin about being cute and stuff MAALIK: i have some baby dan pics DANIYAL: *softly* dont MAALIK: don't try to meme your way out of this LUKAH: give them to us EVA: Lukah, you're here! (*^.^*) LUKAH: ...pure maiden LUKAH: i mean hi love LUKAH: anyways SPARDA: pics now AMASIS: i demand pics DANIYAL: pls no [MAALIK sent chubbycheeks.png] EVA: AWWWWWWWWWWW JUURAH: omg is that his old bib??? that thing was so cute SPARDA: brb dying cuz of cute AMASIS: i'm saving that and nobody can stop me LUKAH: !!! LUKAH: baby freckles LUKAH: omg

[TOUGA is ONLINE]

TOUGA: i'm saving it as future blackmail potential DANIYAL: fuck u SPARDA: dog boy don't lie SPARDA: u also think he was cute af TOUGA: nah TOUGA: maybe a little TOUGA: ok look he has really chubby cheeks and he's hugging a dog plushie, I AM WEAK EVA: Daniyal never lost his cuteness over the years ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ DANIYAL: aghgihrhgrih that'snottrue SPARDA: oh he's blushing AMASIS: you're his roommate, pinch his cheeks for me LUKAH: and for me EVA: for me too!! ʕ￫ᴥ￩ʔ JUURAH: why do you like those emojis so much eva EVA: they're adorable DANIYAL: ow ow ow SPARDA MY CHEEKS SPARDA: they're so soft omg AMASIS: now kiss them better SPARDA: done AMASIS: u know what i'm going there EVA: count me in! LUKAH: im on my way rn

[BALDER is ONLINE]

BALDER: y'all really love him don't you SPARDA: balder. brother. good friend of mine. he's literally a ray of sunshine that covers anything that's evil and putrid in this world AMASIS: he's the personification of a cool breeze in a warm summer day EVA: he's huggable like a teddy! LUKAH: ... LUKAH: thicc. LUKAH: jk, he's literally a mix of everything that's good and sweet DANIYAL: ASFJKGSHG STOP IM CRYING I LOVE U ALL SO MUCH TOUGA: SOME OF US ARE STILL SINGLE DANIYAL: that's cuz you're a furry TOUGA: stop DANIYAL: i saw your internet browser history bruh TOUGA: I DIDN'T KNOW WHAT A FURRY WAS DANIYAL: SO U RESEARCH IT ON TUMBLR 2 TIMES A DAY?? DANIYAL: yeah right bro TOUGA: im pulling out the receipts Dan DANIYAL: do not TOUGA: i may be a furry, but have you seen the amount of times you're in the terato tag?? TOUGA: u monster fucker

[Touga changed the name FURRY CONFIRMED to DAN WANTS MONSTER D]

DANIYAL: hOW DARE SPARDA: tbh, unsurprised AMASIS: like, he blushes when there's big creepy monsters in movies EVA: i heard him saying a monster lady could break him in half and he'd thank her LUKAH: ya dan's always been a monster fucker JUURAH: i can confirm that MAALIK: wait so all those trips to find big foot were due to Dan's horny ass NATHANIEL: nah that was me NATHANIEL: he's more of a loch ness monster guy DANIYAL: Nessie is a beautiful independent lady and also gay af so we're just besties MAALIK: i'm kinkshaming DANIYAL: u can't kinkshame if kinksame MAALIK: what DANIYAL: one word. actually, one cryptid DANIYAL: mothman MAALIK: ASDFGHJKL SHUT UP BALDER: honestly BALDER: i think being a furry is worse TOUGA: thanks for the damn support bro, wait til i kill you while u sleep SPARDA: did u just confirm you're a furry TOUGA: fUCK JUURAH: i always knew it NATHANIEL: i mean why would he nickname himself dog boy BALDER: lmao do u have a fursona touga?? TOUGA: fuck off TOUGA: why not tease Dan for being a monster fucker?? AMASIS: if u dated him you'd know he's into even kinkier stuff SPARDA: yah EVA: yah LUKAH: yah TOUGA: wait what DANIYAL: qwertyuiioponfds save m BALDER: what is going on over there AMASIS: we're drowning him in affection and i think he broke LUKAH: bara machine broke BALDER: tf's a bara TOUGA: urban dictionary says it's a person (usually male) with a large, somewhat muscular, and fairly hairy body type NATHANIEL: lol JUURAH: if there's something Dan ain't, it's hairy EVA: tru SPARDA: never caught him shaving tbh DANIYAL: i'll never reveal my secrets TOUGA: late bloomer DANIYAL: iM NOT DANIYAL: i simply dislike body hair on me TOUGA: what about other people DANIYAL: it's their body and they can do whatever they want and honestly?? cute. BALDER: why not apply that concept to yourself DANIYAL: never MAALIK: i know we are all having fun chatting and stuff MAALIK: but like MAALIK: it's almost dinner time MAALIK: so go get somethin to eat DANIYAL: but daaaad MAALIK: im not dad. dad is straight. NATHANIEL: lmao, right JUURAH: our family is so gay i sometimes forget that DANIYAL: mom's bi af tho JUURAH: i took after her DANIYAL: anyway if u don't mind im getting my lovely gfs and bfs something to eat AMASIS: we could eat u AMASIS: out DANIYAL: thank god u said out cuz if not i would kick u DANIYAL: this is a vore free chat SPARDA: vore is strictly banned TOUGA: kinkshamers BALDER: ... DANIYAL: touga wtf

[TOUGA is OFFLINE]

DANIYAL: ...

[DANIYAL changed the name DAN WANTS MONSTER D to TOUGA: CONFIRMED FURRY AND INTO VORE]

BALDER: tbh?? he deserves this EVA: what's vore LUKAH: such a pure innocent soul SPARDA: don't tell her DANIYAL: guys. eva's anything but a pure innocent soul. DANIYAL: at least when it comes to stuff LUKAH: ok, tru SPARDA: u woke the femdom monster in her DANIYAL: and you're grateful for that SPARDA: can't say i'm not AMASIS: can we go eat now DANIYAL: actual dinner or ( ͡~ ͜ʖ ͡°) BALDER: is your lenny face winking MAALIK: that is extremely concerning NATHANIEL: welp, people, im outtie JUURAH: same, wanna eat MAALIK: im escaping before this gets anymore sexual

[NATHANIEL is OFFLINE]

[JUURAH is OFFLINE]

[MAALIK is OFFLINE]

BALDER: im going to find touga and kinkshame him

[BALDER is OFFLINE]

AMASIS: so SPARDA: hm EVA: mcdonalds or subway? (´∀`) LUKAH: i'm in the mood for mcdonalds DANIYAL: yeah same SPARDA: can we watch a movie too?? since we're going to the mall AMASIS: sounds like fun DANIYAL: im paying LUKAH: no ur not wtf DANIYAL: I PAY

[DANIYAL is OFFLINE]

SPARDA: STOP HIM BEFORE HE GETS HIS WALLET

[SPARDA is OFFLINE]

[EVA is OFFLINE]

[LUKAH is OFFLINE]

[AMASIS is OFFLINE]

[steezygawezy]

I can never unsee you

Seeing my sister in a coma and in that state of pain from injuries is something that I can never unsee, or get out of my head. The first time I saw her she was just laying in the icu, covered with a sheet from chest down, a neck brace on, a tube down her throat, ivs in her arms, ivs in her neck, and a mostly shaved head with a tube sticking out of it.

I have never felt such a sadness, a heaviness behind my throat, a shock that left me unable to believe it what was really happening, and it’s not like a death where someone’s dies, you go through morning, funeral, and so one. This emptiness has been going on for almost a whole month. We’ll about 23 days. Everyday I’m out of it, unable to consitrate. If I am not there that day I wake up and call the nurses desk, call my mom, if she answers, and just wait for progression.

It is a waiting game. Sarah recently got moved from Chapel Hill icu, tchapel Hill step down unit, to now WakeMed neuron brain injury section.

Sarah has a severe traumatic brain injury. A severe Diffuse Axonal injury to be exact to the kind of brain injury. A broken femur(which she had surgery and metal rod put in), broken left shoulder, a dissection of the left vertebral artery followed by a blood clot in her left arm. She has pneumonia, since getting that they surgically placed a feeding tube in her stomach, and she’s had her tracheotomy tube surgically placed in her trachea. At risk for stroke from blood clot, and risk of seziers from brain injury. We were given a copy of the Ranchos scale, which is one of the tools they use to assess brain injury patients. She is a high 2. Possibly 3, as I was told on Monday.

Sarah has been having ““storming” episodes every few days. A fever off an on.

Sarah recently opened her right eye on Sunday a few times, and on Monday it was open for a few hours. I kept talking to her, holding her hand, telling her what the doctors told me to tell her, who I am, where she is, that she was in an accident, and what day it is. I kept asking her to smile, she wouldn’t, she made no eye contact with me but just staring off, I asked her to give Jen a thumbs up, and she finally did. That is the first time she has done anything actually from a command ever since her accident. Since Tuesday to now she has been just resting, no one in my family has seen her open her eye again. Her whole left side of her body hasn’t been very responsive. She has moved those toes, her hand only to pain stimulation while they do stress tests, and her left side of her face isn’t doing anything.

I cannot believe this has happened, or s happening. Sarah is aware of pain, since she cannot do much, she can’t still make facial expressions and watching them do things like clean our her trachea tube, she always looks in pain like she is going to cry. I saw them brush her teeth on Monday and I wanted to cry. Her facial expression wasn’t a painful one, it was more of a violated and scared with a mix of crying but no tears. 

I wish that I could be in her place. I have a family and a life, but Sarah has so much good night for her, recently engaged this summer, a masters in physiology with a great state job as a vocational evaluator. She drives to different counties daily to see all her different patients. She had been trying to move back here to the beach, trying to get the same job here. 

I’m so lost, I call her for everything, because I’m bored, because we are trying to plan her wedding, because she saw a funny commercial, or I want to tell her about the crazy shit my son did today, or how he just said a new word, or is running now, and how this was the first Halloween that I didn’t help her find a costume and figure out what we were going to do, or that I need help figuring out what I should cook for dinner. I think of memories of my whole life, she is in almost all them somewhere. Our whole childhood we grew up together, into our adulthood in our 20s living together as best friends, shopping, going out, sitting in our pjs doing nothing, giving each other advice even when it was unwanted. When she moved away to get her masters she still came to see me at least once a month, if not more. Every time I found out I was pregnant I told her, every time we lost a baby, I told her. The first time she came here for a few days after we found out we lost our baby at my 14 week appointment, she was the person who came to comfort me, lay around and mope with me, watching grease and eating ice cream.  She was always there for me in a way nobody else in my life has been there for me. Recently before her accident when we found out I was pregnant for the forth time, she was so excited, so excited about being an aunt again, and when we told our family we had another miscarriage she came and saw me about a week later. I really need to stay strong, and positive for her.

I am as positive as I can be. I want to grow old with her, live in the same town again like we always planned, take care of our parents together when they get old, I no she is strong, she is fighting as hard as she can.

I just want her to open and eyes and this all be like it never happened. 

I want her to remember me and all that she means to me. She is going to need alot of rehab as in learning how to talk, write, feed herself, brush her hair/teeth, possibly not remember stuff including who she is. I am yelling at god in my head, why did this happen, I no things happen for a reason, but please please help her. I pray every night, all day actually, that she will regain consciousness and not remain in this vegetative/minimally conscious state(as to where they said she is now) please just open your eyes and let me help u learn to brush your hair again, I don’t care what’s it takes, please don’t take my sister, my best friend, who I have shared my whole life with away from us. 

This wasnt just a coma, she has diffuse axonal brain injury. she is projected to be severely disabled if regaining consciousness. Only time will tell. Please Sarah, please fight this, I will help you as much as I can if you just wake up. Please just wake up.