#its brought to you by me working at a place where we (among other things) sell vinyls and a 12 year old bought 4 versions of one album

[seenthisepisode]

i will say with my whole chest that i hate what is happening with music marketing right now. i hate that a song needs to be a tiktok trend. i hate that one album is being released in 23 ways to trick people into buying multiple albums because there are different covers and different photos inside. i hate that one album is being rereleased multiple times as deluxe and then the super deluxe and then super secret version with one additional song just to make the numbers!!!!!! i hate that people without vinyl players buy multiple vinyls of the same album just to own them and collect them. i know no one is making anyone buy multiple versions of the same fucking album by putting a gun to their head BUT COME ONNNNN its all about the money and people and just giving into that!!!!!!!!

[runningfrom2am]

leveling the playing field III

summary: you didn't meet the requirements for the plinth prize, only to find out that you're not just missing out on that- you're missing out on the opportunity of a lifetime. your friend wants to help, because maybe you can help each other.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.9k

tags/warnings: capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. do they love each other or hate each other? who knows. this one is the arena bombing scene so yeah, regardless its not graphic so

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a/n: btw this is lowkey becoming a mix of the book and the movie so if there's inconsistencies dw about it lol, its all just a jumbled mess in my head at this point and i am for some reason working from memory

next part

"Wait! Wait! I'm here!" You call out, urging the line of mentors and tributes to wait for you before they enter the arena, running up from your father's town car with a notebook and pencil in hand.

Coriolanus was simultaneously annoyed by your arrival, delayed or not, considering he didn't expect you, and also part of him was relieved to have you at his side. Entering the arena himself was a daunting task, now that he knows that the mentors are far from safe from harm in this situation.

You're slightly out of breath as you catch up to him and Lucy Gray, panting as you adjust your bag where it sits over your shoulder. "Sorry, I'm late." You breathe out, smoothing down your hair.

"Why are you even here, Y/L/N?" Felix asks, turning from his spot in front of you to look.

"Mind your own, for once." You spit, returning your attention to Coryo and Lucy Gray. "Hey, where's Clem?"

Coryo shakes his head slightly as the line starts to move forward. "I'll explain later." He answers vaguely. You're confused, sure, but you did have bigger things to worry about. He was right. You brought your notebook to take notes on the layout, potential hiding spots, and potential advantages that Lucy Gray could exploit in the games.

"Enjoy the show!" You hear the echo from the speakers as every duo enters the arena, and you cringe. 

"That's dark." You mutter to yourself, taking in your surroundings in the tunnel before being among the last few to enter. The first thing you notice is that the arena is bigger in person than on the screen, you hadn't been inside since you were a toddler- before the war. You try and pick your family's box along the top, but it's no use. You don't even have the slightest memory of this place before the games. 

The next thing you notice is Lucy Gray holding onto Coryo's hand as the door slams shut behind you and the windows slide open above you. You grip your pencil tighter in your palm and look down, attempting to scribble down a layout on the page in front of you as you regain a light source. You have one job, and you'll be damned if you don't do it. For now, your best shot at earning Dr. Gaul's favour is giving Lucy Gray an advantage due only to her surroundings. Making her play the game.

"Okay, so, options are limited but I think we just need to have a good look around. There ought to be a good hiding spot around here." You say, clocking how quickly the girl drops his hand.

Focus is a priority, unfortunately, her comfort will have to come second. She'll have time for comfort once you can get her out of this arena and back to Twelve.

"What do you need, Coriolanus?" You ask, noticing he seemingly zoned out taking in his surroundings.

He tries to process what you're asking of him, but just ends up giving you a blank stare as you tilt your head, looking up at the tall boy. "I beg your pardon?" He asks, clearly having not heard a word you said.

"What do you need me to do?" You ask again.

"Well," He starts, and both of you notice at the same time that other tributes are talking and realize that alliances are being built. "Go... do that. Talk to Lysistrata." He instructs and you nod, walking quickly toward where is standing trying to talk to a confused-looking Jessup.

"Lyssie." You grin, flipping to a fresh page of your notebook.

"Y/N, hi." She says, clearly focussed in on trying to get him to pay attention to her. 

"Is he okay?" You ask, feigning worry. Well, if this is Lucy Gray's only option for an ally, her odds are not looking good. That was genuinely worrying.

"I don't know..." Your classmate answers, reaching up to point out a wound on his neck. "He's got this bite... I think it could be infected. Your father is a doctor, what do you think?"

"Can you get him anything to help?" You ask, getting closer to take a better look. It does look infected, and you're unsure what it could be. You raise your hand to touch his forehead in search of a fever, but you suspect you will find one considering he is already delirious.

"Y/N!" You hear your name being called and you turn, seeing Coriolanus gesturing for you to back up.

You sigh to yourself and drop your hand, taking a step back. "I would bring him something but I don't know what would help." Lyssie sighs.

"If you can get him to agree to be an ally to Lucy Gray, I can bring antibiotics. Something strong. I'll discuss it with my father, see what he recommends." You offer, hoping to buy her a friend in the arena. 

"I'll try my best." She nods. "They've been close, I can't see why not."

"I'll bring him something tonight then." You nod, patting her on the shoulder before continuing on your path of selling Lucy Gray as an ally.

You look around the large room again, looking for whoever would be her best option, and whoever of your classmates would even agree to speak with you. Sejanus- of course.

You tuck your papers under your arm as you walk over to him and Marcus. You can quickly see they aren't on any kind of speaking terms, standing awkwardly together on the opposite side of the center. "Sejanus!" You call out, and he's visibly relieved to see that someone wants to talk to him.

"Y/N." He smiles sadly, which you try and return. Empathy has never been your strong suit, but with Sejanus, you always try your best.

"I'm hoping to negotiate the terms of an alliance between Marcus and Lucy Gray." You explain and he nods, clearly unsure what to do. It would be harder to buy their allegiance, seeing as his family had more influence than yours- after all being the namesake of the prize you had dreamt of for years, and Marcus clearly has more of a physical advantage in the games than Lucy Gray.

"Uh, Marcus?" Sejanus asks, looking over at his tribute, who is blatantly ignoring the two of you. "What do you think? What would you like to do?" You admire his consideration, it must be draining when Marcus clearly couldn't care less.

"Lucy Gray would not be a threat to you. If you would take the care to look at either of us directly I would be able to promise you that." You say, taking a different approach that also doesn't work. You sigh, shrugging as you look over at your friend.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. Thank you for trying." He tries to smile and you just nod, trying to figure out who you'll ask next.

Then, your eyes land on Clemensia's tribute, alone. He looks strong, definitely the most obvious threat. Having him as an ally definitely wouldn't hurt. While it would be ideal to discuss this with Clem, your options and time is limited. He's standing nearby, just staring at one of the flags on the wall. 

"It's Reaper, correct?" You ask to grab his attention, walking toward him. He spares you a glance over his shoulder, then huffs and turns away. "I have an offer for you, and I believe it's in your best interest to listen."

He doesn't look again, but you step in front of him so he has little to no choice.

"In the case that you win, which," You scoff, looking around at the other tributes, "looks quite likely, I will send you home with enough money in your pocket to feed you and your family for a year if you agree to at the very least not harm Lucy Gray in the games. And if you help her, the deal will be sweeter." You state, crossing your arms over your chest. 

Before he has the chance to respond, not that he was going to anyway, you're being grabbed by the arm and pulled away quickly, making you stumble over your feet. "I told you to keep your distance. Not once, but twice." Coriolanus scolds you, pulling you back toward Lucy Gray, who you can see by now has been crying.

"You told me to talk to people! I'm trying to help Lucy Gray-" 

"No, I told you to talk to Lysistrata." He corrects, dropping your arm and turning to face you. All he can see is Reaper threatening to kill him right in the back of the transport truck on the way to the zoo. Reaper was dangerous- how could you be so stupid? "You are making this so much more difficult than it already is."

You clench your teeth together, clutching your notepad to your chest now. "If you stopped thinking I'm so fragile you would see that I am helping. Don't worry about me- worry about Lucy Gray." You say after a moment of thought.

Coryo exhales heavily, looking around to see who was paying attention to the two of you fighting. The echo in this arena was not doing anything to help. "I didn't mean-"

He doesn't get the chance to articulate his thoughts before there's a loud bang, making you jump and rapidly search for the source of the noise as dust falls over the room. Then another explosion, then another, and by the way the light is disappearing in a circular pattern you can tell the arena is being bombed. 

Your ears are ringing and you're now kneeling on the ground, the force of the blasts having knocked you down. You try and get up, try to make a run for the exit, only to feel an impact on your side, throwing you back to the ground a few feet away and you blackout from the hit of your head onto the dusty cement.

"There she is..." You hear your father's voice as you open your eyes slowly, blinking at the warm lighting above you. "Enough is enough." He says, and you feel a pain in your hand as he removes an IV from under your skin.

You look up at him, trying to shake off the confusion as you sit up. "Just a concussion. You were out for a few hours, if you experience any amnesia symptoms let me know, but I do doubt that will be the case."

You rub your eyes with shakey hands, nodding a little bit as your dad steps away to leave your room, where you are lying in your own bed. "Dad..." You mumble, voice hardly there. 

He stops, looking at you and waiting for you to continue as you attempt to clear your throat. "Is Coryo okay?"

"I just got back from the hospital tending to everyone. Two students died, and five tributes. Coriolanus received extensive burns and bruising, but nothing was broken. He will be fine in a few days." He affirms.

"And Lucy Gray?"

"She is alive, the tributes who didn't escape or die were returned to the zoo. A vet is attending to them, I know nothing about it." He says, already on his way out of the door.

You sigh in slight relief, pushing yourself up fully to try and get moving again. Your whole body is stiff and sore, but you push through. You have a lot to do.

Thankful for your father's home stash of medications, luckily including morphing, you were able to gather medical supplies and get your driver to take you to the zoo. You would visit Coryo later, but you know he would want you to see to Lucy Gray, and so you shall.

As you arrive, you see no such vet in sight, the surviving tributes scattered around the cage, mostly either passed out or attempting to tend to their own injuries. This could be good for Lucy Gray, who looks mostly unharmed.

"Lucy Gray." You say, motioning for her to come over to the bars. She looks over Jessup laying against a rock next to her, whispering something to him before joining you quickly, grabbing the bars between you. 

"is Coriolanus okay?" This is her first question, which you honestly did not expect.

Though you were taken aback by this, you nod. "Yes. My father said he'll be fine, I haven't been to see him yet." You explain, crouching down to dig through your bag for your makeshift medical kit of stolen supplies.

"What do you need?" You ask, searching already for the antibiotics you grabbed for Jessup.

"I'm fine." She insists, which you only confirm when you look her over. "Just a couple bruises, I live to sing another day."

You smile a little bit, relieved to see your tribute is at least in a better state than most of the others. "Good. I'm glad to hear it."

"Do you think Coriolanus will be back on his feet soon?" She asks, clearly very worried about him.

"I don't know." You answer honestly. "It's a good thing you have me."

"It is..." She thinks for a moment. "He said he would try and get me a guitar. For my interview, He wants me to sing." 

"I'll make sure you have one." You nod. As much as you hope he'd be up and moving by the time the interviews come around in a couple of days, you know you have a guitar sitting in your brothers room that Coryo would likely ask you to borrow anyway. "This is for Jessup, I talked to his mentor, I think this should help." You tell her, grabbing the pot of topical antibiotics you took from your cupboard at home and handing it to her. 

Lucy Gray nods, taking it and opening the steel lid, her first urge being to smell the cream inside. "Get him to apply it morning and night, be generous with it." You explain, grabbing some bandages as well to accompany it. 

"You've got a full apothecary in that bag, huh?" Lucy Gray comments, straining her head to try and look inside.

"My father is a doctor." You explain, keeping it brief. "Don't share it with anyone else. Their injuries and ailments are to your benefit. Do you understand?"

Lucy Gray just nods solemnly, looking back at the tributes around her. "I understand." She answers, but she doesn't seem so sure. "You know, he pushed you clean out of the way."

"Sorry?" You ask, brows furrowed as you close your bag, having grabbed out the small paper bag of food for her.

"Coriolanus." She clarifies. "He saved your life, I reckon."

"Oh." Is all you can manage, pulling your bag back to his place over your shoulder. You clear your throat again, the remnants of dust and dirt still affecting your voice. "Well, I owe him a thank you I suppose. I'm off to check on him now."

"Tell him I send my love, won't you? I was awfully worried." 

"I will." You mumble, making an effort to not be aggressive with how you shove the bag of food into her hands before walking off.

Your next stop is the hospital. The pit in your stomach tells you that despite your confirmation that Coryo would be fine, you're still worried as to what state he will be in when you arrive. Is he awake? Will he remember a thing? Did he really save you only to face worse injuries himself?

You're escorted to his bedside when you arrive, a small room in emergency seperated only by curtains. Tigris is sitting next to him stroking his hair gently, and he is seemingly sleeping- or still out cold. It's chillingly difficult to tell. You clear your throat to notify her of your presence, and she quickly stands when she sees you.

"Y/N." She greets you with a hug, gently rubbing your back. "Are you alright? You were there, weren't you?"

"I was." You nod slightly as you pull away, eyes once again trained on your friend. "My father brought me home to be treated there. Is he asleep?"

"Yes, just sleeping. He woke for a few moments about an hour ago, but I think he's just exhausted. Couldn't keep his eyes open for more than a minute..." She sighs, looking him over as well. She's worried, of course.

You nod, chewing on your lip. "Well, I can't stay for long, but I wanted to bring these to him." You say, once again reaching into your bag and pulling out a container of food containing some fruit and cookies. You hold it out to her, and her eyes widen for just a moment. "I'm sure he'll be starving when he wakes up, and the food here is atrocious." You try and ease her panic with a joke.

This works and she nods, accepting it quietly. "I know it's a lot for one person, but I figured you or your grandmother would be here with him. I brought enough to share." You add, implying that she is more than welcome to it too.

"Thank you, Y/N. Thats very kind, I didn't have the chance to grab anything on my way- I came straight from work." Tigris makes up an excuse, and you just nod.

"He asked about you, you know." She whispers, panic now completely replaced with a small smile. "When he woke up. You were his first concern."

You try to ignore the pit in your stomach growing and shifting as she speaks, a flush forming over your chest and face. "Well, apparently he saved me. Would have been an awful waste if that had been for nothing." You deflect, forming it as a joke.

"You are his best friend. You know that, right?" Tigris asks you quietly.

That's unfortunate, you want to laugh, but it would definitely come off as either rude or self deprecating, so you come up with something else. "Coryo means a great deal to me, as well." 

Tigris tilts her head slightly, making it more difficult to maintain a straight face. "I must be going, but if he wakes again will you tell him I'm taking care of Lucy Gray?" You change the subject and she nods.

"Yes, of course. Thank you for coming, Y/N." She says again, and you spare Coryo another look over before leaving.

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[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere V + H: Aizawa Shouta and Hizashi Yamada

These two are the villains and you the henchman 

A couple of villains perfectly prepared to take on the army of heroes 

You’re probably one of many 

Hundreds of henchmen under the villains are meant to be nameless and faceless 

Just a pair of helping hands to whatever scheme these two seem to come across

“Sirs! I have something important to report!”

“WHAT!? What’s the matter?”

“Out with it! Tell us, then.”

“Mittens…she…”

“Our cat? Oh yeah, you took her to the vet, right? So what’s the matter?”

“She…”

“Go on! We can take it!”

“She’s…”

“...”

“She’s pregnant!” 

“Eureka!!” “So, my suspicions were correct.”

“Congratulations! I’ve brought a cake to celebrate, the awesome news!”

"Wow that's awesome of you!" "Thank you, (Y/n)."

It's your focus on them as people that make them realize your worth

Unlike your coworkers who easily clock out the moment their hours are enough, you stay

Always asking if they’ve eaten, drunk enough water, or if they’ve been able to get to their laundry this week

First, its a key to their private home just to feed the cats

But then it's a meal plan of what they’ll want for dinner

Then the type of detergent for their clothes

And at this rate, they should will just start moving you into their guest bedroom

You’ve just become such an important part of their lives they can’t imagine their lives or their villainy without you:

Shota did a double take at the mass of eager minions he was prepared to lead. Not seeing a familiar face smiling and saluting among them. It would be unnerving if he didn’t remember that there were chores that he and Yamada assigned; it’d be safe to assume that’s where you there. 

“Uhm babe, did you see (Y/n) on the cameras?”

“No, but I was going to. Did you?”

“Yeah…”

A look of worry and unease was on Yamada’s face, he pulled out his phone pulled up the feed of multiple cameras, and turned the screen to his significant other who had a bad feeling. The feed was clear, and a video of the cats and kittens walking around the house was sped up as the hours continued on. The speed-up footage seemed to slow as you stumbled into the room, wobbling haphazardly as the felines crowded around you as you prepared their food. He watched as you jerked and jumped to what seemed like sneezing. You eventually left but the thought of your state alone was upsetting.

“They’re…sick.”

“Yeah, but what’s worse they didn’t even say anything to me! What about you?”

“No.”

The couple grew silent, enveloped in an unnerved feeling as they looked at their beloved henchman through the screen. Shota was the first to look away, reaching for a device on his belt that held a blinking moving dot. He noted the time on his watch, humming to himself as he adjusted his cape.

“We’ve got time to catch our kitten, but we must be quick.”

__________________________________________

You felt despicable. More than your stuffy nose and rising temperature, you felt despicable with yourself. For getting yourself sick in the first place. How could you be the best henchman you could if your body wasn’t working correctly? It made you feel even worse.

You couldn’t properly serve the couple after they so lovingly offer for you to stay in their home. Granted they were awfully adamant about that going so far as to start moving your clothes and other things into the guest room in their house. But who were you to question their kindness when you were just a mere stepping stool to their villainous success?

Deep down you couldn’t help but let your insipid doubts creep in. Like why your heart beat so fast when you walked in to find the couple going through your fridge. Or when the couple send an uplifting photo of your ex being waterboarded. It shouldn’t strike fear into your heart that your employers were so involved. You were being ungrateful. That’s what got you sick. Your unwillingness to let them further involve themselves in your life is to blame for the weakness in your immune system. You’re not sick from stress…right?

“Here’s your medicine! Hope you get better hun!”

“Thanks, miss.”

Thanking the old woman as you retrieved your medication from over the counter. Trudging out the pharmacy you planned to begin the long trek back home. Completely unaware of a flashy hero stopping their route to slowly float next to you.

“Oh troubled citizen! May I be of assistance?”

The loud question grated your ears as you refused to focus on anything other than keeping awake. 

“No. Go away.”

“But dear citizen I cannot for you seem to need help!”

You groaned at their insistence reminded of the enemy your employers were especially not fond of…infact—You finally looked with familiarized malice at the shining mass and recognizable hair at the hovering super-powered individual. 

“You’re that one hero…aren’t you?”

“So you know of me? Good! Then you have the honor of being under my care!” 

“We don’t think so.”

The monotone and distorted voice of The Eraser had you both looking up at the villains in shocked stupor. Both were fully decked out in their villain armor menacingly standing still in broad daylight. The Mic was uncharacteristically silent further upsetting your already flipping stomach. It didn’t seem that the hero felt any semblance of that though.

“You two? My it seems you have the most uncanny sense for where I am! Perhaps you’re stalking me?”

You could tell he was rolling his eyes under his visor but the villain still reached a gloved hand out to you. 

“(Y/n) come with me, I’ll be taking you to our home, now.” 

You didn’t know why your feet weren’t moving or why your hands shook as you reached out. Or why your heart was pumping so fast. Perhaps that was why you let the hero put an arm out in front of you as he lightly shoved you further behind his back.

“Do not hark their villainous temptations (MY/n)! They only wish to unsettle me with a hostage–” 

His heroic declarations were interrupted by the sudden closeness of The Mic their speaker enhanced mouthpiece dangerously close to their exposed ear.

“Don’t you dare touch them!”

The hero cringed further keeping you behind him as he backed up. Holding the side of his head he swung it back and forth between the villains. With an unexpected battle cry he opened his palms towards the villains before frantically shaking it when he found no reaction.

“W-what is this?! Why can’t I–?”

“Did you forget who you were fighting? Idiot.”

“Wellll the idiot is realizing just how much of a moron he is maybe we’ll grant some mercy.”

“M-mercy?”

“Yup you give us our lovely (Y/n)! And we won’t immediately squash you to bits!”

“Immediately?”

“Do I hafta keep repeating myself? Just give us the kitten we’ll be up on and on our way! Okay?”

“That is until we return to beat you to a bloody pulp for so much as talking to them. See (Y/n) this is why you should just stay home, it just means more carnage for everyone else. Besides you’re so sick I bet you can’t even think straight, come home (Y/n).”

“Yeah precious how about we just go home…”

“You want watch us obliterate him would you?”

[marvelmymarvel]

The Uchiha

Tobirama Senju x Uchiha!Reader

Synopsis: He hated all Uchihas, every last one of them. But you? You were somehow different... And he didn't like that.

Important note: I know the timeline/ages are OFF as Tobirama was 39 when he became Hokage. Let's pretend he was 25 :)

Naruto Masterlist: Here

Also, Tobirama drinks respect women juice. It's canon in this house.

Madara's huff of annoyance sounded out in the room as you turned down yet another suitor. "Sister, why must you sabotage every proposal that comes your way? I'm trying to help you find a husband-"

"I do not wish to get married yet Madara, I'm only 21" You bit back, arms crossed as you pouted up at him. This whole 'suitor' search had been going on for months now, and you were growing tired of the good-for-nothing men your brother brought your way. "And when do you expect to finally be "ready" for marriage, Y/n... Your time is running out-"

"I'm only 21"

You always hated the idea of marrying young and it was the Uchiha way to be married by the time you turned 22. As the head of the clan, Madara was having a very hard time accepting that you were not willing to follow protocols when he was already struggling to maintain power amongst the members. "Y/n please..."

He sounded so pitiful, so tired... But you were done with this conversation. Standing from your spot on the floor, you brushed off the dirt from your dress and started towards the door "We can talk about this later, I want to go for a walk"

"You can't run from this forever Y/n. You will be married within the next 6 months"

You slammed the sliding door shut, eyes rolling in anger as you took off towards the town. "How could he be so selfish, trying to set me up with men that I clearly have no interest in" you huffed out to yourself quietly as you stormed past members of the clan. Some sent you glares, others averted their gazes knowing that one wrong look would mean certain death from either you or your brother.

Your body relaxed as you entered Konoha's downtown area, the Uchiha section and its demands of you were now far away. The sound of the people bustling around the market filled you with joy. There were many girls that were around your age sitting around outside of a cafe, they seemed to be laughing about some stupid thing that had happened to one of them. It was so simple but it was a reality you yearned for.

Sometimes you hated being a part of the clan. They were just so far behind the times and it felt almost suffocating to exist among their stuffy ideologies.

'You're supposed to get married young and give your husband as many children as he desires.'

'Your place is in the home, where you care for your husband and children.'

'Ambitions? You don't need them! Don't forget, your place is beside your husband and that's that'

God, it made you sick. There was nothing wrong with being a homemaker, but it wasn't for you. You wanted to get out there, work, have dreams, and find love naturally... Not through your brother of all people.

You wanted someone else, someone different. Someone who wasn't in the clan and someone who would challenge you to be something more than just a wife and mother. You wanted-

You halted in your tracks as he crossed in front of you, his Kage cape flapping in the wind behind him making him look bigger than he was. Your mouth dropped a little as you watched them walk away, you hadn't seen either of them since Tobirama became the second Hokage and it felt like today was your lucky day.

"Tobirama! Hashirama!" You called out, hand shooting up as you caught up to them. Hashirama smiled brightly at you, arm opening up urging you to hug him "Y/n! How've you been? How's Madara?"

You slyly shot a glance toward the white-haired man, and you didn't miss the slight annoyance that flashed across his face at your presence. You knew he didn't like your clan. You didn't like your clan either.

"I've been good. Madara's been... Madara" You were trying to sound chipper, but the thought of Madara soured your mood again. Hashirama nodded, he knew you and Madara were on thin ice what with him trying to find you a husband and you NOT going along with it. "Husband search not going well?"

Your face morphed into a scowl and Hashirama kicked himself for even asking when he knew that's what was wrong. Tobirama's eyebrows furrowed together at your change in demeanor, he was used to your ruthless attitude, so this was something he wasn't expecting. You grew embarrassed under Hashirama's pitiful look and Tobiramas inquisitive stare, "If I do marry, it won't be an Uchiha" you muttered quietly before brushing past the two men.

The two brothers stood there in silence as they watched you walk swiftly down the street towards some food stands, "I shouldn't have said anything" Hashirama sighed as he rubbed his face in anguish, "Her brother's going to kill me"

"Why does she not want to marry an Uchiha?" Tobirama breathed out, he didn't know what was getting into him, but it felt like he was seeing you for the first time in his entire life. He had known you for years, ever since you were children. He found you to be quite annoying and lumped you together with the other Uchihas that he hated.

Yet something felt off.

"They treat their women like property. It's mandatory that a woman marries before 22 and has a child before 23. Her place is in the home and they can't do anything without permission from their husbands"

"That's ridiculous. Women have needs and desires as well-"

"Yes I know Tobirama but that's how the clan operates-"

"Well, it's another reason as to why I despise that god-forsaken lineage-"

"If you're so upset with it why not marry her?"

Tobirama slammed his mouth shut at Hashiramas statement. Him? Marry YOU? An UCHIHA of all people?! Hashirama stood his ground though, he wasn't stupid and he saw the looks Tobirama has been sending you for YEARS now. Tobirama could lie all he wanted to, he has always cared for you more than he'd like to admit. Tobirama started to take off back to the Hokage's office, not liking the look Hashirama was giving him "I don't think marriage is a good idea, the clan will disown her if she marries outside of their circle-"

"She hates her clan Tobirama and honestly, I think you're the only person who can make her happy"

Tobirama tripped on his footing trying to stop in disbelief. His eyes were wide and his face was full of disgust at what Hashirama was insinuating. Him? Make you happy? Not possible.

"Uchiha or not, you can't deny that you care for her in some way. I know this because you look at her differently than you look at anyone else. You don't even look at the women you try to court that way-"

"I'm done with this conversation" Tobirama huffed out, his face was burning red and the whiteness of his cloak only made it more noticeable that he was embarrassed. Hashirama opened his mouth to make another statement but Tobirama stormed towards the Hokage's office, leaving him standing there in disbelief.

How could someone so smart, be so clueless.

* 2 weeks later *

Your feet kicked at the ground as you waited for your turn to talk to the Hokage. Madara was unable to meet with Tobirama to go over the latest requests of the Uchiha clan, so you were left to the task of talking to the stubborn man who always seemed to make your heart race faster than it should.

"Y/n Uchiha? You're free to go in now"

You nodded at the secretary before standing and heading towards the door, heart pounding as your gripped the wooden door. Sliding it open, you popped your head in before letting out a quiet 'hello'. Tobirama's head shot up at the sound of your voice, he was expecting Madara so this was quite the surprise. "Y/n" he greeted firmly, trying very hard to calm his nerves as he took you in.

You were wearing a simple dress, not too fancy but not too casual. It fit you in all of the right ways, you were attractive sure.

But it was your smile that took his breath away. It reached your eyes, making you appear carefree even though he knew you weren't. "So sorry about my brother's absence. He grew ill over the weekend and asked me to step in for this discussion" you explained sheepishly as you navigated your way to one of the chairs across from the desk.

Tobirama didn't say anything but nodded at your apology, he wasn't upset with this change of plans. He was actually happy. After his discussion with his brother, he tried to push you out of his mind, but every time he saw you he was reminded of the feelings he so desperately tried to hide. "What do you want to speak about?" Tobirama started as you sat down in front of him. You looked at him wide-eyed as if he was asking you something foreign, "Oh! Yes, that" you finally stated as you opened up the envelope with the items to discuss.

Your eyes scanned over each bullet, humming to yourself in agreement with the requests on the page, but you grew still at the last bullet point. Tobirama cocked his head as he took in the way your face fell into disbelief and sadness. "Is something the matter?" His voice was clear but muffled at the same time thanks to the growing rage pounding in your ears. "They want your help with finding my suitor..."

His blood ran cold at the words, if they were asking for his help, that meant-

"They want to look outside of the clan" you breathed out, and in a way, you almost sounded relieved. "Is that something you want?" Tobirama's question was met with silence, but it wasn't a no. "I guess you'll need to marry into a higher-ranking family, do you have a preference-"

"Wait wait wait" you started, waving your hands as your cheeks heated up at the idea of marrying someone who wasn't in your inner circle. You didn't know if you were happy about this, you didn't know if this was a better option. Tobirama studied you from across his desk, you were somehow giving off the energy of relief but also anguish, two feelings that never went together.

"What do you want, Y/n?"

His question took you off guard, it wasn't usual for someone to ask you what you wanted. "I... I want to marry someone who will let me be more than just his wife. Someone that will let me be me." You finally breathed out, your nerves beginning to somehow morph into excitement at the idea of getting what you wanted. "So a higher-ranking individual who will let you be you? Is that all you desire?" Tobirama sounded calm, but inside he was kicking himself. He tried to rack his brain for who you could marry, but all he saw was himself.

"Yes. I suppose"

Your answer was quiet and bashful, had you somehow read his mind and saw the very image of you two together? "Do you have a preference to what clan-"

"Um... Maybe a Senju?" It was bold, very bold of you to blurt it out so quickly. It told him that you had pondered the answer to that question for some time now. "Well, you're in luck. The Senju clan isn't as backward as the Uchihas are. You will have no issue finding a husband who will nurture you and your desires" Tobirama was thankful you couldn't see his shaking hands below the desk. He didn't like the idea of you being with someone in the Senju clan, someone who wasn't him.

This felt wrong. He hated your clan so why were you different? Had he always felt this way and hated you to cover it up? He thought back to when you were kids. You were a couple of years younger than him and you were always trying to talk to him even though it was forbidden.

Forbidden.

'The Uchiha clan is evil. I forbid you from talking to them in any way shape or form'

That's what his father always preached, Hashirama never listened but he did. Now he was regretting it.

"How do you feel about me?"

"I'm sorry what?" You sputtered out, eyes wide at how calm he sounded. Tobirama didn't falter, only stared at you as if urging you to answer even if you didn't want to. "I uh. I guess I like you? I don't know I enjoy your company and-"

"I meant marrying me"

Your blood ran cold but not in a bad way. Your face burned and the heat began to travel down your neck and chest. He was what you wanted, what you've always wanted. Ever since you were kids you decided that he was the one you wanted to be with. But he always hated you so you wrote it off as a stupid crush and tried to move on.

The key word was 'tried'.

"I've wanted that for a while yes-"

"Then it's settled. I will send a notice to your brother. I will be taking you to dinner tonight, do you have a restaurant you like- What's wrong?"

Tobirama noticed your eyes widening at his words and he didn't know if it was a good or bad thing. You had just admitted that you wanted to marry him, so why were you looking at him like he had 5 heads? "I just didn't expect this to happen. I thought you hated me to be honest"

He bit his lip, contemplating what to say to reassure you that you were different. He did hate your clan but he didn't hate you. The hatred he felt was because he was infatuated with you. But how could he put that into words? There was no way to reassure you in the way you deserved. Instead, he stood and circled the desk before leaning against it. "Let me take you out. Let me court you... You'll see that the feeling of hatred was one of forbidden desire"

You nodded slowly at his words, still uneasy and unsure.

"Now where do you want to go for dinner?"

[eddies-ashtray]

sick eddie is stubborn and won’t let you take care of him, so you have to show up unannounced and convince him to let you dote on him :(

***

the trailer door opens just as a slow drizzle begins to fall from above, pattering against the hood of your raincoat. the sky is dreary—full of rolling grey clouds swollen with rain—, but not nearly as dreary as eddie appears as he stands hunched in the doorway. he’s paler than usual, cheeks rosier too. his nose is red with his dark chocolate eyes appearing glossy and hazy. wrapped around his shoulders is the fuzzy purple blanket you left here last weekend and his very frizzy hair is tied in a low bun.

“i told you not to come, sweetheart. don’t wanna get you sick,” eddie worries, voice thick with congestion as he pulls the blanket over the lower half of his face to prevent the spread of his germs.

he did tell you that. but he sounded terrible over the phone and uncle wayne is out of town this weekend and the knowledge that eddie was home alone feeling miserable made your heart ache.

“i know, but i thought you might need some stuff,” you say and lift the plastic bag in your left hand, shaking it lightly so the plastic rustles at him. eddie looks skeptical, like he’s a moment away from shooing you down the porch steps, so you add: “plus, i’ll probably catch a cold anyway if you leave me out here.”

this seems to work; skepticism replaced with a look that tells you he knows that you’re manipulating him, but he’s too tired to fight you further on the matter.

eddie moves to the side to allow you to enter, blanket swaying with the movement. you step inside and eddie closes the door as you pull your hood down and discard your rain jacket entirely.

when you step towards him, hand outstretched to feel his forehead with the back of your hand, eddie leans away and walks to the couch, collapsing onto the cushions and causing them to groan.

you frown, creases appearing between your brows as you take in the state of him, of his living room. tissues litter the coffee table, a couple mostly empty glasses of water are strewn about among other clutter on the table and the surrounding floor.

“why won’t you let me take care of you?” you wonder, slightly hurt, but mostly just concerned for your sick boyfriend.

eddie shrugs weakly from his spot on the couch and sniffles. “don’t want you to get sick,” he utters simply.

you sigh, going to sit next to him on the couch. eddie shifts away from you so he’s on the far end of the couch, but you shift over with him so your sitting right next to him again, facing him with your legs crossed under you. eddie pouts, but makes no move to shift away from you again.

“you know what i think? i think you’re not used to people wanting to take care of you. so you push us away because you don’t think we really mean it,” you observe softly, tucking a stray chunk of hair behind his ear and placing your hand on his warm cheek. “but i mean it, eddie. just let me do this for you, baby.”

eddie’s eyes are suddenly wide and you think they look more watery than earlier, but you can’t tell for sure. finally, he nods and you take this as his acceptance of your words. with that, you plant a soft kiss to his cheek (which he leans into instead of pulling away) and usher him to his bedroom to lay down in his bed rather than on the couch.

after that—and once all the tissues on the table are discarded, the half full glasses in the sink, and the living room restored to its relative tidiness—, you grab a washcloth from the small linen closet across from his bathroom. after soaking the cloth with cold water, you wander into eddie’s bedroom where he lays wrapped in your blanket and press the cold cloth to his forehead to soothe his headache. his eyes close for a moment, the feeling surely soothing as he whispers a quick, “thank you.”

but before you can leave the room to get the rest of the things you brought for him, eddie catches your wrist.

“stay,” he requests, eyes pleading. it’s hard to believe he was rejecting your doting mere minutes ago and now he’s allowing you to see how fragile and vulnerable he feels right now. “will you lay with me?”

your heart melts and you rub softly at his wrist with your thumb. “‘course, teddy. i just gotta get the rest of your stuff, is that alright?” you ask. eddie nods. “okay,” you confirm as he closes his eyes once more and releases your wrist.

as you boil water for the tea you bought him in the kitchen, eddie fights a coughing fit down the hall. shortly after, you return to his room and sit at the edge of his bed to deliver the warm tea to him along with some cold medicine you bought at the drugstore.

“what’s this?” eddie asks when you hand him the mug. bringing it to his nose, eddie sniffs at the steaming beverage. “it smells like gum,” he observes.

you smile softly at his slightly silly comment. “it’s peppermint tea. it’ll help your throat and your cough. now drink up and take these too,” you say, offering him a couple loose pills, one of which will hopefully help to reduce his fever.

eddie takes the pills from you and after swallowing them with the tea, he leans back against the wall his bed is pushed up against, eyes wide and pupils blown as he stares at you.

“i love you. and i’m sorry if i get you sick,” he whispers, brows knitting together.

“i love you too. and don’t even think about that, i just want you to get better,” you say and place a sweet kiss to his cheek.

once eddie’s finished his tea, you brush through his knotted waves carefully and braid his hair into two plaits. eddie basically purrs like a cat as you do so, enjoying the way your nails scratch at his scalp occasionally.

finally, you fulfill your promise of laying with him and he falls asleep soon after with your chest pressed to his back, legs tangled with his.

you spend the rest of the weekend at eddie’s, laying around watching old movies, drinking copious amounts of peppermint tea and, most importantly, snuggling up with him under your fuzzy purple blanket.

not a bad way to spend your weekend.

[picafreesita]

🌈3🌈

We walked up the street to Julie's house. We get halfway when Wally tells us that it was the moment he separated from us.

Wally's house was red with a blue roof next to yellow windows, very striking.

"Good night, dear neighbors," he said.

"Good night, Wally," they both answered.

"Yes, good night," I answered later.

While Wally opened the door to enter I could see something in the windows moving. Something black, circular figures moving in the front windows. The most logical thing was to think that they were other residents who lived with the one with the pompadour, but even so, I could notice how they moved towards where I was going, it was like a direct look, they were watching me, that was clear.

Leaving Wally's house behind he had arrived at Julie and Sally's houses. One was pink and had a white roof with a flower theme; the other was multicolored with stage curtains adorning its entrance.

"Okay, I'm going to get my things and I'll reach them in a moment," Sally said, saying goodbye to her and running towards the colorful house.

"Okay," Julie said. It was just the two of us walking to the house full of flowers.

"Welcome to my home" She opened her door and entered first and then waited for me to do the same.

"thank you very much" I strolled until I could see everything inside

"Make yourself comfortable, I'm going to look for some pajamas for you." She took me to an armchair and then went to another room.

I looked everywhere in case I could find any clue of those beings that I could sometimes see like in the pink house, but I found nothing. It seemed like a safe place.

"It's like there but they aren't there," I murmured.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

There was a knock on the front door, I got up and opened the door, it was Sally in her pajamas.

-Hello! “I brought everything I needed for the sleepover,” she said, holding a bag. I stepped aside from her and let her pass, at that moment Julie came out of her room with her pajamas in hand.

"I think I found a perfect one for you," She said happily and greeted Sally.

"Very well, how about you take a bath while we put everything away?" she asked me "so you can relax."

"Oh, okay," I responded, Julie took my hand and guided me to the bathroom.

"If you need something, don't hesitate to ask"

She handed me the pajamas and closed the door, leaving me alone.

I looked around and it was a fairly equipped bathroom.

When I got out of the tub, I dried myself off and got dressed. It was a two-piece set with loose sleeves. I must admit that it helped me a lot and I felt better.

Upon returning to the living room I could see how they had made a pillow fort between the couches; the table was filled with snacks, board games, and makeup.

"Wow, that's a huge pillow fort," I commented.

There was everything, from the smallest cushion to the largest ones that made up the walls of the fort, colorful blankets created the ceiling, several of them tied with ribbons on sticks giving it a kind of castle feel.

"I know, isn't it incredible?" Julie commented, proud of her work.

I turn to look at myself

"I see that the pajamas fit you perfectly, you look phenomenal" She raised her thumb in approval.

"Now, as our first activity, what movie would you like to see?" Sally asked with her hands hidden behind her back.

"Oooohhh" Julie happily took a VHS tape from among the board games "Let's watch Adventures in Dreamland."

"I say let's see… Melody and her friends on a galactic tour!" She excitedly showed us the tape that she had hidden behind her back.

"Come on Sally, Jolly has to see "Adventures in Dreamland" I'm sure she'll love it," Julie said lovingly holding the movie.

"But we have already seen it many times, plus Melody has incredible songs and wonderful character development. She has to know about good cinema" Sally said.

At least 10 minutes, each one defended her film without wanting to give in at any point.

Sincerely, I didn't want to get into that fight, especially because I had no idea what kind of movies they were.

"Hey Sally, what if we see them at the same time? I have another television in the closet. This way we can both see what we want and Jolly will appreciate both stories"

"I don't think…" I said quietly.

"That's… A great and fantastic idea!" Sally exclaimed.

Both girls went to the closet to actually take out another television along with a VHS tape player. Inside the fort, dialogues came out mixed between strident songs, I tried to a certain extent to understand both plots while we ate popcorn and candy. When the credits rolled my brain was finally able to rest, it was a disaster.

"I do not understand. Why did the mermaid Lolly want the sailor Willy to eat the queen of Saturn's cookies so she could stop the evil producer Orion and save the children's dreams?" I asked

Both girls remained silent and then burst into laughter.

"You're quite funny," Julie said between laughs. "No, silly, you completely mixed up the stories."

"Although I must admit that it would be a pretty interesting story to produce, maybe I'll make a play something like that" Sally commented.

"We will have to see them again so you can understand them"

Before Julie took both controls I said:

"I think that was enough movies for me tonight"

"Okay, how about we make some cookies? Buy a tube of chocolate chip dough at Howdy's store" Sally suggested.

The three of us left the fort and headed to the kitchen, we opened the package to grab the dough and form small balls and then placed them on a waxed tray, and with that, they went straight to the oven. The cookies going to be ready in 25 minutes or at least that's what the instructions said.

"While the cookies are baking, why don't we put on our makeup and hair?" Julie proposed.

I had a bad feeling

"A makeover on the way!" The two shouted at the same time.

"Yay! This will be great" Julie quickly took out all the makeup she had and placed it on the table while Sally brought a stool next to her. I saw how both girls were putting on makeup, their faces were full of color.

"Wow" It was the only thing that came out of my mouth

"Very well, it's your turn" They took my shoulders and made me sit down.

"Wait a minute, I…" My plea was useless, Julie quickly began to put my makeup on. I put on a shadow of bright and intense color with a pink blush.

"You'll see, I'll make you more than beautiful" Between them, the two of them used different brushes to fill my face with every product they could put on me.

"Very well, we're done"

Before I could take a mirror and see what they had done to me, Julie snatched it from me and then said:

"Not yet, our hairstyles are missing. We have to make a brushing train"

"The cookies look like they're ready, I'm going to take them out of the oven like Poppy taught me," Sally said as she ran to the kitchen, on her way back she carried a bowl full of the freshly made and warm cookies in her hands.

The three of us stood in single file: Me at the beginning, Julie in the middle and Sally at the end. My hair was not as long as the blonde girl's, on the contrary, my blue hair only reached my shoulders. I could feel her putting barrettes, setting spray, and using the brush to style my hairstyle.

"Almost"

After a couple of minutes, Sally finished Julie's hair.

"Are you done yet?" I asked.

"I'm giving you the last details" she could be heard as she struggled.

"Very well, I´m done" She handed me the mirror

"Vuala, what do you think of your new look?"

"This is…emmm…how to say it…Extravagant" If my eyes were already big because of my expression I could make them double. I looked like a clown, everything was made up with exaggeration and the hairstyle did not help at all, it rose upwards making it look like an almond.

"Do you or do you not feel bonita?" Julie asked me

"...I feel bonita" I didn´t know if I wanted to laugh or cry

"Wonderful! Because you look bonita!"

The makeup and haircut of both girls are almost equally exaggerated. I really don´t hate this game it's just strange for me but is quite funny

After admiring Julie's work, this girl went to her room to take out a pile of clothes. She suggested that we do a fashion show, and so for at least an hour we tried on thousands of outfits while making funny poses. If it weren't for the fact that we are puppets, she would say that we are just girls who want to have fun.

After the parade there was a pillow fight that ended with thousands of feathers on the floor along with thousands of laughter from everyone. We collected what we could and placed them back inside the cushion.

"You know, I honestly don't remember the last time I had fun…thank you," she said with a sincere smile.

"It's okay but…What do you mean by "you don't remember the last time you had fun"? "What happened?" Julie asked, looking at me worried about what I said.

"Well…Before I got here…My friends and I were in serious danger"

Sitting in a circle while Sally held a lamp as our only source of light started storytime,

"How terrible…I guess you went through a lot of things"

"… yes, really...yeah," I said looking at the floor while I remembered every teacher I had ever encountered and the worst… the confrontation we had against Lesley… and Roy. Being immersed in my thoughts again I didn't realize that Julie was hugging me…

When was the last time you hugged me? Or…Have you ever hugged me?

"I'm very sorry to hear that, I can't imagine what you experienced. If you need something, anything. I'll be there"

"Thank you, Julie, trust me, I will be fine. My friends and I have been through a lot…many horrible things but together we have gotten through" I gave her a smile to reassure her as well as separate her from me.

"They may be idiots but I know that wherever they are as long as they stay together they are capable of surviving anything"

"If you say so but remember we will help you with anything, just tell us and we will be there" Sally commented

I smiled in a certain nostalgic way for some strange reason

-I repeat, thank you very much. When I leave tomorrow I will remember her words and if I am in trouble again I will know that there is a place where we will be welcomed with open arms… I am sure my friends would love this neighborhood-

-Please be very careful out there, promise-

-I promise-

Julie extended her arm and then just left her little finger in my direction waiting for a response from me. I kept thinking and an idea came to my mind, I did the same and intertwined my finger with hers.

"A promise is never broken," he commented.

I looked back at Sally and we did the same.

"Hey, tell me, what are your friends' names?"

The question took me by surprise.

"Emm…the truth is...I don't remember their names, in fact I think we have never really introduced ourselves. Now that I think about it, it's a bit strange since we've known each other for a long time."

"Yes, it's strange…but maybe it's something of fate, right?"

"What does that mean?"

"It sounds like they are very close, like a family, maybe that means that there is a reason behind them getting together even though they haven't introduced themselves"

"I never thought in that way" Thinking about everything I know about them made small laughs come out of me

"If we are a family, we are a really peculiar one. If you met them you would think we were completely different and how the hell did we end up together"

"Oh really? What are they like?" Sally asked.

"They are shy? Happy? Kind or rude?" Julie continued with the questions.

"One looks like a red mop that talks and looks indifferently, another is a kind of old duck with anger problems and the last… is like a kind of naive yellow pig"

Both girls were surprised at how I had described them.

"I know it seems very strange and that we hate each other but…somehow we work"

"Even if their friendship is a little strange, it just shows how much they care about each other. I'm glad to know that you guys have that kind of authentic friendship, you know that they can always trust you with their lives and that's a really good thing to have… at least, I think so" Julie concluded.

Her words really relieved my heart from the anguish I felt for them, this was reflected in my face, however something else was appearing at that moment, it was a kind of sadness but I don't know where it came from.

"Is there anything else that worries you?"

"It's not that, it's just that you remind me of something but I don't know what…something good or someone"

I frowned trying to remember

"I think I once had friends like you" In some way I'm glad to recognize that.

I have a lot to remember

With this and a few more jokes, it was time to sleep.

Our sleepover was over.

🌈2<<<<<<<<<<< >>>>>>>>>>>4🌈

[insoartoficial]

☆Chapter 1: The Crystal Sphere ☆

[4 Last]

"Mr. Horner, do you want us to follow you on foot through the forest?" ―asked one of the subordinate bakers with weapons in his hands.

―It's not worth it― he responded, raising his hand as a sign to stop his men. ―We retreat, a crystal sphere is not worth my time― and so, he and his others few bakers boarded the vehicle to drive to Lil' Jack's Horner Pie Co.

I walked to a safe area in the forest, removing my hood to be more alert and sitting on a rock, taking the crystal sphere out of my bag; It was huge, bigger than my head to see it and make sure it was in good condition. "How does this thing work?" I asked, turning it around without seeing anything in particular, I put it back in my bag to walk again, while I did so I saw the landscape, it was a forest of reddish colors and where I could hear many birds, after a while I stopped when I heard a river, walking near the shore I found a perfect place to create a quick camp and look for some food, I saw one big enough among the trees, walking backwards while I saw it and running in its direction while gaining momentum to climb, once at the top I realized that it was just as I imagined, its thick branches and grandeur were perfect to create a small bed and place my bag, once installed I took out the glass sphere again to see it.

"Maybe I should just say what I'm looking for," I said to myself. "Crystal sphere, show me Jack Horner," and when I asked, the sphere through a dense purple mist showed him to me, his face serious as he looked out a window. , was in his carriage, surely heading to his factory again. A faint smile left my face, the dial was working. "I must look for something to eat before it gets dark," I said, coming down from the tree and leaving my bag on top, carrying with me only my bow and some arrows, looking at the sky, it was getting dark. He turned in his seat from one side to the other, tired of being inside the carriage for so long, it was almost there judging by the structures outside, the same ones in the town around his factory, the gray and red environment that he remembered and what seemed like storm clouds in the sky. "So much time on this damned trip for nothing," he said with crooked eyes, speaking to himself. "All because of that silly girl," he said, remembering his meeting with me. "Mr. Horner, we have arrived," one of the bakers announced through He opened the door to go downstairs without saying anything, blurring the first drops of rain and with a noticeably annoyed expression he walked in silence to his office, also known as his trophy room.

"I don't want anyone to bother me," he warned an employee before entering, slamming both doors. Once alone, he walked with both hands on his back, watching the rain fall through his stained glass window. He was upset, almost furious. Normally he didn't get involved. In the search for magical objects, it was easier to pay a bounty hunter and have the object practically at home, rarely did he go into the odyssey of searching for it personally unless it was really important or valuable, and the crystal sphere was. For him, an object capable of displaying everything you want would undoubtedly be a valuable acquisition; I would be. "Damn stupid girl," she shouted, hitting the desk to sit in her chair, the night was falling and the work day was ending. "Mr. Jack Horner, can I come in?" "I look back at the door, remembering how I passed by to talk about something, in those days I looked different, my hair was a little longer, brown and I wore glasses, dressed in the company uniform as always." Sorry to interrupt, I was coming. to let you know that the first batch of the day is ready―

He stood around the desk, and walking to the entrance, about to open the doors. “I know what time my company's first batch is,” he blurted out, annoyed without seeing me. A few knocks brought him out of his memories. "Mr. Horner, all the employees have left and I was coming to deliver my report for the day," said the head baker, leaving a sheet of paper on the desk. "You can withdraw," he sent it off without much importance to hear the door close again, looking at the desk he took the sheet in his hands to read it, the number of lots, sales of the day and one or another unimportant record, he left the hopefully again, seeing his objects slowly, shelf by shelf until he reached an empty place, where a base for the sphere lay, he stopped to take the base and throw it with force, leaving it buried in a wooden part of the wall.

I watched the fire calmly, leaning on a large stone hugging my cloak. It wasn't very cold, but the atmosphere was definitely cool. How my life had definitely changed in such a short time, wandering aimlessly through many places, without tempting any like mine, not since that time. I felt a tightness in my chest, memories coming and going day after day, of things that no one remembered but me. I got up to put out the bonfire and make sure there was nothing left to cause a fire, I climbed the tree again and lay down, taking out the glass sphere again. "Show me Jack Horner" and doing the same as the previous time, the image of the violet-haired man appeared in front of me, sitting at his desk while writing something, he looked tired, upset, and fed up. I saw the scene in the darkness of the night with my face illuminated only by the light of the sphere. “Jack,” I whispered, imagining being there with him, in that same office again.

“We'll see you soon, Mr. Horner,” I whispered before falling into a deep sleep.

[vacantgodling]

CURRENT BETWIXT THUMB AND FOREFINGER (AKA 19TH CENTURY TWILIGHT ADAPTATION THAT CRASHED INTO GOTH LIT SOMEWHERE) RESEARCH AND PLANNING and generally my chaotic thought process lmao.

sponsored by: @sarahlizziewrites & @ink-flavored

tl;dr: all of this is still subject to change bc i'm still planning a lot of this stuff out. however, i want to post what i have so far bc how i plan things is kinda intriguing to me and i wanna talk about something but bc i'm not Writing Prose atm this is all i got.

transposed under the cut but i wanted to showcase what the actual doc looks like :p

WIP NAME ⟶ BETWIXT THUMB AND FOREFINGER

(the hell) betwit thumb and forefinger — the time between solstice and equinox

with the secondary title that almost implies that the story is taking place over a short time period between solstice and equinox — which is a 90 day period, so about 3 months?

idk if i have to keep that in the title, but perhaps the title is a reference to how short a time this is in the grand scheme of things, especially in the life of an immortal creature, but for biscella this is a lifetime. going through every stage of grief and sommemore shit. so i think i’ll call it betwixt thumb and forefinger (BTAF)

some kind of celestial name (twilight/new moon/eclipse/breaking dawn) ⟶ something in this realm to tie back to twilight’s inspo’s somehow but idk if i wanna give that bitch the luxury

dark adaptation — the eyes’s transition to night vision

equinox / solstice

retrograde 

betwixt retrograde and amnesia LMAO

betwixt equinox and solstice

i need to decide what year i want this story to take place in cuz that’s gonna hinge everything.

History of the Netherlands - Wikipedia

peninsular war was 1807-1814. sjaak did not see the end of this conflict as he was turned into a werewolf by a fellow soldier “gust” (why, idk yet).

joined the french army (netherlands and french were allies during this time the batavain-french alliance™) and fought in the battle of zaragoza (1808) ; was injured and near death when he was found by gust a gravewalker. there’s been a rumor going around during the battle that people have seen corpses up and walk away from the battle and their wounds and its because gust (and others) have been turning them into werewolves for some greater purpose. — sjaak becomes one of these when he leaves.

if i assume that for all intents and purposes sjaak is 18 when he finally leaves the netherlands and joins the spanish FRENCH army, then maybe he’s 20 when he’s turned into a werewolf. so… 20 during 1808.

born: 1788 in the netherlands — black mother who was a slave but then brought to the netherlands and subsequently freed. father was the master of the home she worked at.

biscella is younger than sjaak and i want her to be a naive 18 during 1808—perhaps this happens during 1808? but then we would have the war to contend with going on unless it was removed from the battlefield somewhat.

the “cullens” are located in castillo-nuevo in what is now navarre spain and have cleared it out to build a castle there. that lonely castle in the middle of the wilderness is where biscella lies. the crypt is hidden among the mountainous landscape, and even though biscella was there during the funeral, another aspect of everything is eduard appearing to her in dreams/visions/as an apparition keeps her from knowing his location fully by scrambling her mind.

i want sjaak to kill that baby

“you have the face of the woman i love. but the blood of the man i hate flows thorugh you” or something. kills the damn baby and makes biscella’s death worthless in some ways

“she would’ve wanted you to live. she would’ve wanted me to show you the ways of the world and the sun in the trees and the apples that hang low from branches. but i am a monster filled with utter darkness and hate. i will kill what she cherished, and hope that in your death, her memory will haunt me.” or something.

NAMING STRUGGLES ⟶ Spanish naming customs - Wikipedia / Category:Catalan-language surnames - Wikipedia / Names Categorized "Twilight characters" - Behind the Name

possible names for bella (romani, coming from germany into netherlands after being expelled from the country or whatever)

biscella 

mirella ⟶ variant of amaryllis (meaning to sparkle)

sibella ⟶ prophetess (variant of the name sybil)

tsarla ⟶ evening

gisela ⟶ hostage/pledge

biscella schwann

tsarla schwann

gisela schwann

sibella schwann

karl schwann + tsarla schwann >> biscella schwann >> 

surnames for eduard & the cullens™ ⟶ casavantes (the name taken from the patriarch of the family; comas is the 

CHARACTERS

biscella schwann de casavantes (bella) ⟶ follows the standards of the region + is not spanish so she just goes with the flow

karl schwann (charlie father, dead)

tsarla schwann (mother, dead)

sjaak de witte (dutch) (jacob)

luis jofre casavantes basurto (carlisle) ⟶ created via union but killed his parents so he could defect to a “vegetarian” lifestyle (aka hibernation). he forbids the usage of venom to create more of their coven, forbidding the femme vampires from autonomous reproduction essentially.

maritxell comas miranda (esme) ⟶ wife and half-sister of luis; created via union and assisted luis in killing their parents so that they could start their own coven. completely loyal to him and was defanged in an act of loyalty (aka; she can no longer make other vampires stronger as luis removed her fangs, this also keeps her from drinking blood AND solely dependent on him for protection)

i want maritxell to actually have a more prominent role than just like. a sad woe is me matriarch. i want her to be like those women who uphold the patriarchy by being misogynistic towards other women. women like her own daughters (rosita and azelie) need to know their place, and because biscella is romani, she views her as subhuman (and also just as a breeder for eduard’s seed).

i don’t want her to be like romilda in vdtrt who’s more battered wife syndrome. i think maritxell and luis are very very complicit in one another’s bullshit.

rosita casavantes i comas (rosalie) ⟶ first child of the union between luis and maritxell, defanged at birth, rosita desperately wishes to be with child (need to figure out why). she is intensely jealous of biscella despite knowing the woman will die, and torments her now that eduard has been buried in the crypt.

eduard casavantes i comas (edward) ⟶ uses ‘i’ instead of ‘y’ or ‘de’ because he’s specifically from catalina ; created via union of luis and maritxell, and despite being the middle child, is the strongest of the vampire children.

azelie picard (alice) ⟶ luis impregnated a french woman who azelie assumed the name of once she was born. she was the one who met biscella first and despite everything is protective of her. she did not approve of eduard impregnating her (lesbian undertones and may defect and help sjaak, we’ll see). does not want to be defanged.

silvano di luise (jasper) ⟶ youngest child of the coven and born of an italian woman, his surname means ‘son of luis’ (as he is). he is very conflicted on the matter of whether or not they should stay ‘vegetarian’ if they’re still going to kill human (women) anyway by impregnating them with their spawn and thinks that human men should receive the same treatment by being killed for food or made as spawns as well. its caused infighting amongst the coven.

the other question is if i should add other characters. bc i included all the twilight vampires that are Actually Interesting (sorry emmett you’re fucking boring to me) and i’m also only including the werewolves that are interesting to me… which is mostly ig sam, leah, and whats her name. 

WORLDBUILDING AND SHIT

HOW VAMPIRES WORK (biologically)

vampires are made only through human hosts; vampires with penises can impregnate women and the pregnancy will last for 2 years until the woman is fully drained of all her blood and innards, then perish, with the baby bursting out of the womb

vampires without can impregnate men or women via their venom and it will take the form of a parasite forming in their stomach. these vampires tend to be more deadly, though because of the times it is rare to have these kinds of non-producing ‘coven’ leaders. they will do so if their mate is killed, but usually they use their venom to strengthen the other vampires in their coven.

vampires that are created via the union of two vampires in coitus will have a normal “human like” pregnancy, and tend to be the most powerful of all) (ie: eduard)

unlike werewolves vampires cannot be “turned” they can only be born.

HOW WEREWOLVES WORK (turned)

werewolves are the natural enemies to vampires as they were specifically engineered hundreds of years ago to be on par with the nightwalkers’s (vampires) habits.

they cannot be born biologically; once you are turned a werewolf you are infertile.

werewolves are created via consumption of the compound moonstone, which, as its name suggests, is what people of this time assume to be rocks from the actual moon.

whether it is or isn’t is debatable. its not Really important. you eat it and you are now lycanthrope congrats

[soleilceirinen]

When the darkness comes | Tommy Shelby x Shadowhunter!Reader - Part 4

Summary: you are a shadowhunter investigating the sudden rise of yin fen in the Downworld, the trail leads you to Small Heath and a blue eyed gangster.

A/N: I'm not sure about how this part turned out. Anyway, thanks for reading it. English isn't my first language, sorry if there are mistakes!

Warning: nothing.

Part 3 - Peaky Blinders Masterlist

Usually, patrolling the streets was boring. Not tonight. You had been following the trail of a ravener demon for about half an hour without it noticing. It was the first demon you had encountered in Small Heath since your arrival. 

Luckily, it was a minor one and not very smart. Its disgusting appearance, a mix between a centipede and crocodile with some scorpion parts, made your stomach turn. Sometimes these kinds of demons were used to follow someone or to keep an eye on something. 

That’s why you weren’t surprised when the ravener moved around all the places that were clearly Shelby territory. More specifically, the parts of Small Heath dedicated to their non legitimate businesses. So, without any doubts, the demon had something to do with the yin fen.

However, you didn't think it was directly related to the Shelbys. 

That is, someone external, maybe the one responsible for sending them the drug so that they could distribute it throughout England and export it to America, was the one controlling the ravener. It could be a warlock’s work. Also, there were probably more than one demon, although you hadn’t seen others, which could be a problem if they decided to attack you in group. 

Tired of walking around the city among piles of garbage and puddles from the same place to the next, you took out of your coat one of your seraph blades and got ready to finish off the ravener.

“Uriel,” you said out loud, giving a name to the blade. Instantly, it lit up, filled with angelic power as it brought light into the darkness.

At that moment, the demon noticed your presence. You already knew that the poor thing wasn’t very clever. It lunged at you with quick movements, trying to reach you with its disgusting insect-like legs. You moved faster thanks to a heightened speed rune. The seraph blade traced luminous arcs through the fog as well as the ravener’s body.

With a screech and a gush of dark ichor, the demon disappeared. They didn’t die, instead, they returned to their own dimension. You observed the light from the blade fading away, it was covered in ichor and it was starting to corrode so you dropped it, no longer useful. At least the ravener’s blood hadn’t splash all over yourself or your clothes. 

You scrunch your nose for a moment, looking around. There were no signs of more demons but the night was still long until dawn. With a sight, you closed your coat to protect yourself from the cold wind and continued patrolling. 

A couple hours later, you headed to The Garrison. A drink or two wouldn’t hurt. 

The warmth of the pub welcomed you like a hug. You appreciated the cosy atmosphere, despite the noise of the drunk customers laughing and talking. So you headed to the bar, where you sat in one of the seats and rested your head on your hand. 

After a while, you felt the presence of someone next to you, so close that their arm was brushing against yours. Slowly, you turned your head and watched him through your eyelashes, blinking lazily. “Good night, Tommy.”

He nodded, watching you closely. “Long night?”

You nodded back. "You have no idea. By the way, I'm not following you, in case you were wondering. I just wanted to get something to drink," you said quietly.

Tommy chuckled and turned to the bartender. He ordered a couple of bottles and glasses before turning to you, placing his hand on your lower back. "Come with me, we can talk in a quieter place." 

Without removing his hand from your back, he guided you to the private room at the side of the pub. After closing the doors behind him, the noise was muffled and distant. You took off your coat and sat down on one of the seats, resting your head against the wall. Tommy sat by your side, watching you like someone does with an exotic animal. He lit a cigarette and started smoking in silence.

The small window opened, revealing the bartender with Tommy’s order. He got up to pick it up and left it on the table. Your eyes followed him, too tired to move.

"I'd like you to try something," he said, pouring a clear liquid into one of the glasses and setting it down in front of you. 

You grabbed the glass and brought it to your face, smelling the contents. "What is it?"

“Try it,” he replied, leaning back in the chair, never taking his eyes off your face. At your expression of rejection, Tommy rolled his eyes and took the glass from your grasp, brushing his fingers against yours and drinking it in one gulp. “It isn’t poisoned, see? I just want you to try it and give me your honest opinion.”

You had learned the hard way not to drink or eat things offered by strangers, more specifically if those strangers were fairies. One could never trust them. However, you had already ruled out the possibility of Tommy being a fairy, right?

"Okay, I'll try it."

Tommy poured another glass and slid it in front of you. You took a small sip and hummed softly.

"Well?" he asked, putting out the cigarette in the ashtray.

You shrugged. "It's sweet, I suppose," you said unconvinced. "I don't drink regularly, so I don't know. It's not bad." 

"Not bad..." he murmured.

You grabbed the bottle and turned it in your hands, looking at the label. "Gin," you read aloud, "distilled for the eradication of the seemingly incurable sadness... Shelby Company Limited, it’s your own gin?" 

"It's part of the business," he explained as he sipped his whiskey.

As you finished the contents of your drink, a sudden wave of warmth spread through your chest, so you rolled up your shirt sleeves. That night you had discarded your shadowhunter gear and had decided to wear a simple white shirt and trousers. You loved wearing pants, it made fighting much easier than a dress or a skirt. 

Actually, from a distance you could pass for a boy or a young man. If you had worn one of those peaked cups, you could infiltrate among the Peaky Blinders and they wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. Up close you couldn’t fool anybody. Tommy was delighted in the way the pants hugged your waist as well as the dark runes spread throughout your body, barely visible through the thin fabric of your shirt. 

"Do you like horses?" he asked suddenly.

You watched him with a raised eyebrow and nodded slowly, finding the question quite odd. "When I was little and lived in Idris, we had a horse. I used to ride all the time, it made me feel like Boudica. Why do you ask?"

Tommy shrugged. "Have you ever been to the races?"

After seeing you shake your head, he slapped the table cheerfully. He seemed to be in a good mood. "Tomorrow I'll take you to the races. Wear something nice."

“Alright,” you agreed, laughing softly at his enthusiasm.

He sat closer to you, throwing an arm over the back of your seat. You suppressed a smile, men were so easy to read sometimes.

"So, you don’t ride anymore?" he asked after a while. The tips of his fingers began to brush against the side of your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

You heaved a long sigh. "No. Unfortunately, I had to move to London a few years ago and it's not the same. In Idris I used to live in the countryside,  where I could ride freely, here I feel like I'm in a cage. Everything is grey, smokey and smells bad."

Tommy laughed. "I don't really understand what you mean about Idris but it sounds like a  good place. What made you come to London?"

You looked into his eyes, he seemed genuinely interested. Still, you looked away, focusing your attention on your hands.

"I'm a Nephilim, remember? A Shadowhunter," you saw Tommy nod out of the corner of your eye, "although we're all over the world, because there are demons everywhere, our home country is called Idris."

“I’ve never heard of it,” he commented, sitting a little closer to you.

"Of course, because it is non-existent for mundanes. It is located between Germany, France and Switzerland. Mundanes cannot access it, it is our sanctuary," you explained. "Years ago my parents were sent on a mission, it seemed like something routine and simple but they were ambushed and it didn't end well. They..."

Finishing the sentence wasn’t necessary because Tommy had understood. He squeezed your shoulder gently. "I'm sorry," he whispered.  

You looked at him with a frown. "Don't be sorry, that’s how life works. We are warriors, we must fulfil what has been entrusted to us since our creation, keep the Earth free of demons. Most Shadowhunters die young, that's how it is. We have been trained for it since we were children."

Tommy seemed surprised at the sudden vehemence of your words. Out of the blue, your face had become a hard facade, lacking the typical sparkle of amusement in your eyes. Instead, it seemed to have been replaced by a layer of grief and resignation. 

"They sent me to the London Institute to finish my training there and I stayed. I had nothing to return to in Idris," you said with a sad smile on your lips.

He closed the little space that separated him from you and pressed his lips against yours. You closed your eyes, tasting tobacco and whiskey. Then, you reached up and placed your hand on the back of his neck, where his hair was so short that it was barely there. Tommy grabbed your waist, pushing his tongue deeper in your mouth.

As you began to feel your crotch getting wet, you pulled away from him with a soft whimper and held his sharp jaw in your hand. “At what time will we meet tomorrow?" you asked in a whisper.

“Meet you here at five,” he muttered, staring at your lips hungrily. You released him, connecting your mouths again. 

An overwhelming feeling started to grow inside of your chest, so you got rid of his hands on your waist and stood up with fluid movements. You grabbed your coat and leaned to give him one last kiss. “See you tomorrow, Tommy.”

"Stay a little longer," he pleaded softly, trying to catch his breath.

You shook your head. A small smile threatened to peek at the corner of your mouth. It didn’t reach your eyes though. “I better get going, my night is not over yet,” you said, walking out of the room into the crowded pub. 

Tommy remained there as he watched you disappear without looking back.

[dailytomlinson]

Alone with Louis Tomlinson in Chile: "What I miss most about One Direction is the camaraderie"

In his brief visit to the country, Louis Tomlinson received BioBioChile weeks after his return to the national stage and days after a talked-about show in Mexico, a country to which this year he will bring his own festival, “Away from home." "I want to bring it wherever they want to have me. To be honest, it was a talking point today (in Chile)," the former One Direction confessed.

After an explosive time in Mexico, where he was one of the headliners of the Pal Norte festival, Louis Tomlinson went down through South America to Chile in advance of what will be an imminent reunion with local fans, who in the country alone number in the thousands.

The former One Direction will present the “Faith In The Future World Tour 2024” on May 24 at the Estadio Bicentenario La Florida , almost a year after the start of the world tour and almost two years after its successful debut in Chile, when in 2022 sold out three shows months in advance.

“The experiences I have had, being quite young, have always been quite good here. So I am very excited to be able to bring “Faith in the Future”, and I feel very lucky to be able to do this alone,” he commented in dialogue with BioBioChile when remembering his first visit with One Direction , also in May but 2014. 10 years ago.

Since then, subsequent visits to Chile by the group's former members have repeated the frenzy of their alma mater. This week, the flash arrival of Louis Tomlinson caused crowds outside the Mandarin Hotel, and spontaneous attempts to follow his route to Santiago.

“I think it's vitally important (not to forget the fans). It's as simple as if no one buys the album and no one comes to the tour shows, we can't do what we do. It is vitally important to make people feel represented from all sides. I've always had a good relationship with the fans, and I've always been incredibly grateful to have the fanbase that I do. So it's a lot of love and gratitude that I can give you. They are always important to me,” he acknowledged.

During his time at the Pal Norte festival, Tomlinson made a gesture that caught the attention of his followers: he took a Mexican flag and posed with it for the audience . A very unusual maneuver in his presentations that the Dancaster native takes today with humor.

“I saw that fans were talking about it online and I think I've only done it once before, and I think it was in Mexico too. Those shows are usually where they are very excited and euphoric, there is no other reason. At that moment I take the flag and wrap it around myself. Which is very cool,” she commented on the code that his fans deciphered.

For “Faith In The Future” , the Englishman worked and collaborated with important names in the international industry, such as Theo Hutchcraft (Hurts) and producer Mike Crossey (The 1975, Wolf Alice), as well as Nico Rebscher (Alice Merton) and Joe Cross, among others.

After the success of “Walls” in 2020 (whose tour brought together more than 500,000 people in more than 80 concerts around the world), the singer was satisfied with the result of his successor album, where he shows another facet.

“Yes, I am very proud of this album. When I reflect on 'Walls,' there are things that with hindsight I would have done slightly differently, and that comes from a place of trust. But when I think about 'Faith in the Future', I think the proof is in the live shows. That album is designed for live performances, and from the experiences I've had on tour with Faith in the Future, it feels very special to have that for the fans. So yes, I am very satisfied,” he commented.

Tomlinson, who in less than two years suffered the death of his mother Johannah Deakin from leukemia and his sister Felicité from an overdose, shows in “Faith in the Future” part of his own family heritage: optimism .

“I would say that (that optimism) comes from the family; It's what I've always known: seeing the glass half full. Optimism, yes, comes naturally to me in the way my mother raised me, of trying to see the good. I wanted to bring that out on this album, and I hope you can feel a little bit of that.

(Q): In “Common People” you made a tribute to Doncaster, your hometown. Tell us about it.

(A): I'm very proud to come from a place like Doncaster, although I don't spend much time there anymore because I live in London, I go when I see my family. But there are great people, I have a lot to thank Doncaster for who I am today, so it still has a very special place in my heart.

(Q): Are you working on a new album?

(A): I have written a couple of songs, but when I was writing them I wasn't thinking that they would be for a new album, they were so I could write and not put pressure on those songs. But I think I will start writing work for a new album at the end of this year.

(Q): In addition to being a musical star, you are a festival producer…

(A): Yes! I like that, it sounds good.

(Q): You recently announced the arrival of “Away from home”, your festival, to Mexico, after a successful time in Spain. Is there any possibility of bringing that show to Chile or South America?

(A): I would love to. I want to bring it where they want to have me. To be honest, it was a talking point today. And the shows have had incredible energy, so it would be an incredible place to bring the festival.

(Q): What does Louis Tomlinson listen to in his headphones during his trips and tours around the world?

(A): I have to push myself a lot to listen to new things, like everyone else I stay in a loop of continuing to listen to the things I grew up with or I get stuck with an album and only listen to that. The last album I've been listening to a lot is the new one by Paolo Nutini , he is perhaps my favorite male singer, he is an incredible vocalist and incredible composer.

(Q): You are a very active artist, who travels a lot during the year. Would you like to spend more time at home, in England or in Doncaster?

(A): Yes, that's almost the only thing I've known in my adult life, certainly. So yes, of course I would like to be able to spend more time in Doncaster. But since I don't, every time I go there it feels very special. So currently I have a very nice relationship with my home.

What do you miss most about your time in One Direction? Do you miss anything from those days?

(A): Yes, definitely. I think what I miss most is the camaraderie, navigating the music industry together. It's a very immersive experience, and being able to navigate with people who are going through the same thing is definitely a good feeling. Or even lose sometimes, but do it collectively. But I will say that as a solo artist, I've said it before, there is more stress, but I think the reward is greater. But there is a difference. That was it, and now it's something else.

(Q): What are your plans for this year?

(A): I have a lot of touring, I'm seeing people play at a lot of festivals, which is exciting because it's something new for me. I'm very excited about that, Mexico was a great experience. So more touring and then at the end of the year is when I'll start writing the album.

[falseroar]

Murder on the Warfstache Express

Part 8: What the Engineer Didn't Hear

((Abe's investigation hits a new hitch when it turns out there's been a theft on the train.

Link to the previous chapter, Part 7: Incriminating Investigating here if you need it, plus one for the whole series.))

Abe led the way into the luggage car, briefly pausing in the space between the two train cars to cast a look out the locked doors to either side. The sight of the billowing snow confirming the blizzard was still going strong out there, and the chill in the air encouraged him to get a move on already (or maybe that was one of the others behind him).

Inside the luggage car he held his lantern high so that it would cast its light as far as possible—which wasn’t very far at all, not when it caught on the narrow racks of metal shelves to either side of the walkway and left deep shadows between them that only disappeared as he passed by just to take their place again soon after.

Without the noise of the engine or the rumble and rattle of the wheels below, it was quiet enough to hear the creak of their footsteps, the groan of metal cooling beneath the onslaught of snow, and a dozen other small, insignificant sounds suddenly magnified in the stillness.

And yet Abe didn’t feel the same creeping sense of being watched as he had the first time he walked through here in the darkness with Benjamin. Maybe it was the difference of having his lantern and Illinois’s behind him, bringing up the rear of the group, instead of just a small lighter. Maybe it was having been here before, or knowing what he was dealing with this time around, although it seemed like knowing a murderer was on the train should have been worse than trying to work out why the train had suddenly stopped without warning.

Or maybe, that small voice in the back of Abe’s mind that always waited until moments like this to speak up, there was something there then that isn’t here now.

Abe slowed, taking more time to scan each row of shelves as he passed, like he could somehow spot a difference among the luggage and packages stowed here and there, and asked over his shoulder, “Where’s this thing you wanted to check, Professor?”

“Up near the front of the car,” she said. “I didn’t really want it stored that close to the engine, but it wouldn’t exactly fit on the shelves.”

Oh, right, now that Abe thought about it he did vaguely remember the conductor/engineer Peter pointing out the huge crate to him earlier, the one covered in chains and locks. As much as Abe wanted to take a peek at what she had stashed in there, he figured it would take her some time to get it open, time he could make use of while he was here.

“You two mind going ahead?” Abe asked, stepping aside in the narrow space between two racks of metal shelving. “I’ll be right there, I just need to check something real quick.”

“Looking for that weapons safe, huh?” Illinois asked.

The detective shrugged without a word, but they both gave him a knowing look before continuing on toward the front of the car, the professor wondering aloud where she put her keys.

It wasn’t a bad guess, and if Abe thought he could get the thing open and finally get his gun back without the conductor’s help he probably would have been at it already. Instead, he quickly doubled back to the first occupied shelf and checked the name tag on the suitcase there before moving on to the next.

“Haven’t had your fill of going through folks’ underwear yet?” Wilford asked, Abe hating himself for how much the man’s voice made him jump. Somehow, impossibly, Abe had almost forgotten he was there, which seemed to be Wilford’s cue to try and give him a heart attack. “I don’t know, it gets kind of old after a while, doesn’t it, when everyone packs the same kind of stuff?”

“Not everyone,” Abe said. “All those rooms we checked, and there was one without any luggage at all. Well, two—why didn’t you bring anything on this trip?”

“I brought myself, that seems like enough to me,” Wilford said with a shrug. “Everything else will sort itself out when it needs to, I’m sure.”

“…Sure. But why would a normal person not bring at least a change of clothes or something on an overnight trip?” Abe asked, before realizing he was asking the wrong person that kind of question. “Even if you’re not planning on staying at your destination long, you’d bring a toothbrush or hairbrush or change of underwear or something, right? More than just an ID, a letter, and a gun is what I’m saying.”

“Unless you left in a hurry and didn’t have time to pack,” Wilford said.

“Okay, maybe—”

“Or you go back and forth between two places so much you have what you need at both.”

“Okay, sure, that might be possible, but—”

“Or you’re a spy, and everything you bring with you is an extra risk of blowing your cover!”

Abe opened his mouth to shoot down that idea and then paused, realizing that with as little as he knew about Agent Harold Apless, that one might actually be true. Actually, all of Wilford’s suggestions were plausible enough, which both annoyed and disturbed Abe equally.

Since when did Wilford make sense?

“All the time!” Wilford protested. “I don’t know where people get the idea that I don’t know what I’m talking about.”

“Stop doing that,” Abe hissed through gritted teeth, and Wilford shrugged and turned away, the detective’s flask going to his mouth again. “And stop stealing my stuff!”

Abe tried to snatch his flask back, but Wilford evaded him and moved further down the car. The detective almost followed him when he heard the professor’s voice from the front of the car, a cry of dismay and horror.

“Everything okay up there?” he called, like he didn’t already know the answer.

“No, it is not okay!” the professor shouted, and he swore he heard her stamp her foot before starting a rant of some kind whose words he couldn’t quite hear.

Abe hesitated, and against his better judgement decided to delegate.

“You,” he said, pointing at Wilford. “Check the tags for everything here while I see what’s going on up there. Look for a Harold Apless—actually, look for any names that don’t match anyone we’ve seen on board this train. Could be he used an alias. Think you can handle that?”

“I don’t see why not,” Wilford drawled, raising his stolen flask as he did so.

Abe sighed, but he needed to go and see what had riled up the professor in case it turned out to be important.

Or in case it turned out to be another dead body.

The thought made Abe pick up the pace, and so he was just in time to see the door at the front of the car open and engineer/conductor Peter poke his head in, oversized wrench at the ready as he asked, “What’s going on in here?”

“What’s going on is someone’s been tampering with this crate!” Professor Beauregard pointed a finger at what at first glance appeared to be dark stains in the wooden panels, but as Abe approached, they became deep, long scorch marks, at least one on the side longer than his forearm. “What could even do this? A flamethrower, maybe? But the angles are all wrong, and if someone was trying to get inside they would go for the locks or just burn a hole through the wood, which would be a disaster of epic proportions—”

“Holes like that one, you mean?” Illinois asked, pointing out a perfectly round hole with charred edges, just about big enough to stick a finger in.

“Oh no, oh no oh no oh no,” Professor Beauregard moaned as she fumbled with her keys, only to drop them when the first lock gave way before she even put the key in. “This can’t be happening!”

“Someone picked the locks?” Abe said, but the professor answered by just yanking on one lock after the other, each one in turn proving to be open as the chains around the crate gave way and crashed to the floor. He looked at Peter, who was watching all of this with wide eyes, and asked, “Did you hear anyone in here at any point last night?”

“Uh…well, you and Benjamin came by,” Peter said slowly, wincing as another chain hit the floor.

“But did anyone else—”

Abe was distracted by the professor’s cry of relief as the very last lock, the one holding a chain around the center of the standing crate in place, proved to still be unlocked.

“They didn’t get in,” she said.

“Why stop at the last lock?” Illinois asked, and Professor Beauregard gave him a frantic look before snatching up her key ring and undoing the lock herself.

The professor pulled open the door and the three men leaned in behind her, all four sagging backwards when the contents of the box were revealed—Beauregard with relief, and the other three with disappointment.

Abe, Illinois, and Peter could all easily see over the professor’s head, but after that buildup there was only one thing in what now seemed to be a comically oversized crate, just a single, palm-sized crystal. Just some jewel like you would use for decoration, held in place by a series of supports to keep it from being bumped or knocked around during transit. Those supports and cushioning around the sides were the only explanation for the size of the crate, but it hardly looked like it was worth all the effort.

It was just a rock.

Just a single crystal that emitted a soft blue light which the longer they stared at it, the more it seemed to draw the rest of the light of the train car in, their lanterns dimming by comparison with that beautiful, mesmerizing sight.

And then the professor closed the crate, breaking the spell and driving back the strange darkness that flickered in the corner of the eye like dust motes until it was like it had never been there at all.

“Seems like a lot of effort to go through for just a shiny rock,” Abe commented, already forgetting how it had seemed to pull at him, pull at the occupied hole in his heart.

“Oh, believe me, it’s never ‘just’ a rock,” Illinois said, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth at some thought.

“What, are you a geologist too?” Abe asked.

“This hole,” Professor Beauregard muttered, ignoring both of them while she tapped on the hole that Illinois had pointed out. “Based on the angle and penetration, it must have…Oh! Oh, sugar!”

“Sugar?” Abe repeated.

“It hit the crystal! Whatever ‘it’ was, a flame or a bullet or some other projectile, there must have been some kind of transfer of kinetic energy that reacted with the already overexcited particles already contained within the crystalline structure, leading to a massive discharge,” the professor said in a burst and looked around, only to be disappointed when those around her failed to realize the gravity of her words. “Right, of course, none of you know—well, of course you wouldn’t know, you absolutely shouldn’t know, but—oh, what am I allowed to say…”

“If it has something to do with the murder or the other things going on, then I’d say all of it,” Abe said.

The engineer started and stared at him. “Hold up, did you say ‘murder’? We haven’t even been stopped in the snow an hour yet, what are you people doing back there?!”

“About that stopping in the snow thing…” Professor Beauregard hissed and, coming to some kind of decision, said, “This stone might have knocked out all the power on the train and caused the blackout that got us stuck in the snow.”

In the ensuing silence, she shrugged and said, “My bad?”

Abe considered the overabundance of ways he could respond to something like that, then with what felt like a heroic effort of will, managed to narrow it down to one he thought might actually be helpful. “Does that mean you might know how to fix the blackout then?”

“Oh! Hm…” The professor paused to regard the idea. “Well, I mean how hard could it be? It’s got to be easier than jury-rigging a blaster from an esoteric and little understood source of energy of unknown origin.”

“See, you would think that,” the engineer said, “but some of the wiring and whatnot on this train can be a bit fiddly, if you know what I mean.”

“That’s my favorite kind!” The professor beamed in the lantern light without a trace of sarcasm, leaving Abe to suspect that she was just the sort to enjoy a challenge.

Not that he had much room to comment there himself, but he still felt the need to stop the engineer before she could pull him back up front toward the engine compartment.

“Hold on a second, whatever your name is.”

“Peter Pilotsson,” the engineer offered, pointing at the name tag on his shirt.

“Yeah, like I’m going to remember that,” Abe scoffed. “Before you get to playing with your fiddly bits, I have some questions for you. Starting with how the hell you didn’t hear any of this happening.”

He gestured toward the obvious burn marks and holes on and around the crate.

“Hard to hear anything over the sound of the train engine going,” Peter pointed out. “Well, you know, when it’s actually going.”

“You were literally one car away, just on the other side of this wall!” Abe struck said wall as he spoke and was rewarded with a satisfying thump and a numbness in his hand that more or less went away when he shook it. “You were in the engine car when the power went out, weren’t you?”

“Of course I was,” Peter answered quickly, shifting his grip back and forth on the oversized wrench in his hands as he did so for lack of anything else to do with his hands. “That’s the only reason I was able to stop the train before we plowed right into the snowbank, remember? I was so busy with that, and over the screech of the brakes anything could have been going on behind me for all I knew.”

“And yet we could hear the gunshots on our end of the train,” Abe mused, before stopping himself. Had they, though? Even if the gunshots he heard weren’t just a figment of his fevered dreams, there certainly hadn’t been enough of them to account for all of the damage visible just in this one area.

He raised the lantern a little higher, the better to take in the strange burns.

No, if these were the result of someone shooting, then it was with a gun Abe didn’t know. Maybe something like the blaster the professor had stowed back in her room, or…

Abe reached toward his coat pocket with his free hand, but froze before he could touch Happy’s gun as the lantern’s light caught something else he had failed to notice until now with the crate taking all of the attention.

“What the hell?!” Abe rushed over to the safe in the wall, the very same safe that the engineer/conductor had stowed the detective’s gun while spouting all of that nonsense about protocol and safety and standard operating procedures, that safe.

That very open, very empty, safe.

Abe sputtered, gesturing at the useless hunk of metal with both hands so that the lantern swung around wildly, sending the lighting and shadows in the car into absolute chaos. “Where. The Hell. Is my gun?!”

“Well, that’s not good,” Peter said slowly, Abe’s hands flexing with the urge to wrap themselves around the man’s neck. “How’d that happen, do you think?”

“’How’d that’…what do you think happened?! Someone broke into the safe you promised me was the most secure thing on this train—”

“Which it definitely is,” Peter interrupted. “What with being the only safe on the train and all.”

This was it. Abe was finally going to be the one to commit a murder.

“Did you even lock the damn thing?!”

“Of course I locked it,” the engineer protested. “Someone must have cracked it, somehow. You know, put a listening thing to the tumblers and heard them roll into place, I hear thieves can do that.”

“And you somehow didn’t notice this happening? You somehow didn’t notice the safe standing wide open for who knows how long?” Abe growled.

“Well, it’s dark enough you didn’t notice it either when you were here earlier,” Peter pointed out. “And how was I supposed to hear someone cracking the safe over the train engine and all the shooting, anyway?”

“So you did hear the shooting,” Illinois said and the engineer quickly shook his head.

“Nope, so how was I supposed to hear someone opening a safe if I couldn’t even hear all that happening?” Peter asked, gesturing at the marks all around the crate feet away from the door.

Said gesture was done with his wrench, which for a moment seemed to glisten wetly in the light of the lantern, its edges given a rusty hue by the glow of the fire.

Abe blinked and narrowed his eyes, but as far as he could tell from where he stood it was just a trick of the light.

The same couldn’t be said for the splatter on the floor, once it finally caught the detective’s eye. The lanternlight gave the small drops between the crate and the safe an oily sheen, but when Abe knelt down and brought his finger to his nose after touching the stuff there was no mistaking that scent.

“Blood,” Abe announced, standing up again.

“Not a whole lot of it,” Illinois said. While Peter and the professor had taken a step back at the word, the adventurer was scanning his surroundings in search of more and, like Abe, finding none of it. “Of course, it’s hard to judge if the wounded person was able to staunch the bleeding quickly, but you would expect a major hit to an artery or a gunshot wound to leave more of a trace.”

“Not entirely sure I would expect anything like that,” Peter admitted.

“Depends on where you're hit,” Abe muttered, the familiar pain in his chest sensing the opportunity to make itself known again. He rubbed the blood between his fingers, thinking to himself that the blood couldn’t have been here that long. Combine that with the empty safe and the damaged crate, and it was easy enough to draw the connection. He glanced at Peter and asked, "What else was in that safe, besides my gun?"

"Nothing," Peter said, shrugging at Abe's noise of disbelief. "What can I tell you? No one else had anything that needed to be put away."

"No one—are you kidding me?!" Abe sputtered. "Sure, I wasn't exactly hiding my gun holster, but did you even check anyone else? Hell, Warfstache will pull a gun or a knife if he gets a little bored, did you even try to take his weapons?"

Not that he thought the conductor would have been successful (or even alive) if he tried, but it was the principle of the thing, damn it.

"Who?" Peter asked.

"Wilford!" Abe looked around and realized that the man was still in the back of the car checking tags, or more likely had gotten bored and wandered off again. "Guy about yay high, mustache, pink and yellow, obviously trouble and not all there..."

Peter mimicked the motions Abe made while he was describing Wilford before recognition flashed in his eyes. "Oh yeah, that guy! No, I don't remember him having a gun or anything like that back at the station."

"Are you sure you're thinking of the right guy?" Abe prompted.

"I just remember he didn't really get the whole ticket thing. Tried to give me everything but one near every time I asked, but I told him, 'teddy bears and bottles of wine are nice and all, but you gotta have a ticket if you want to board my train.' Not like it's hard to get one these days, right?" Peter deflated a little as he added, "That's when he threw a snowball at me."

Yeah, that sounded like Warfstache.

“Point is, someone was hit with something—whether a bullet, a knife, a blunt object, or a badly timed nosebleed, we don’t know—and could still walk away, or else they’d still be here,” Abe said.

“They could have been carried away,” the professor said, but Abe shook his head.

“Whatever happened here likely went down just before the train stopped, right? You said it yourself, your rock over there getting damaged probably knocked out the power, and Peter hit the brakes when that happened,” Abe ticked off the order of events on his fingers as he spoke. “Train stops, we all wake up and are looking out in the hall, meaning one of us would have noticed someone carrying a dead or incapacitated body out of this car even without the lights. With Peter in the engine car, the only other place they could have taken the body is outside, and we would have noticed tracks when we went out earlier. Plus, we’ve only got one body accounted for, and I saw Happy go into his room after the lights went out, so he can’t have been dead then. Whoever’s blood this is, losing it didn’t stop them from getting the hell out of this car before Benjamin and I came through earlier.”

 “That’s…actually a pretty reasonable line of logic,” Professor Beauregard said, her surprise putting a bit of a damper on the compliment but not stopping Abe from taking it anyway. “But you’re sure you saw the man?”

“I’m as sure as—” Abe hesitated, and not just because he realized he didn’t exactly have a lot of comparisons to make in that department these days.

It had been so dark, with just his lighter at the time. He had seen the door of the neighboring compartment slide shut, but had he actually seen Happy in that moment? Or had someone else entered his room?

Had he been inches away from the murderer without realizing it?

“Everyone was shouting and looking out of their rooms when the train stopped, someone else had to have seen or heard him too,” Abe said, his confidence fading when Illinois and the professor shared a look. He thought for a moment and snapped his fingers. “Mack! He was right across the hall, and I had my lighter out—if anyone else saw Happy at the same time, it would have been him.”

“Not entirely sure you want to go around pinning your hopes on that guy,” Illinois noted before shrugging. “But you do you. I take it you’re going to go question him next then?”

Abe hesitated. He did need to question the others, and Mack did make a logical next choice, but before that…

“You,” Abe said, pointing at the conductor/engineer. “Are you really going to stick with the story that you didn’t hear any of what went on in this car?”

“…Yes, I think I will,” Peter said, after a long and obvious pause to consider his options. “Don’t see why I shouldn’t, because I didn’t.”

“I’ll tell you why,” Abe said, closing the distance between them so his finger was prodding the man’s chest and their noses were nearly touching. “Because I don’t believe it for even a second. I’ve been at this long enough that I’ve got plenty of experience sniffing out bullshit, not that it takes much to smell the stuff all over you.”

In fact, the man reeked of grease and oil from the engine, but for a split-second Abe caught that familiar copper tang and his eyes went to the oversized wrench resting uneasily on Peter’s shoulder.

This close, there was no mistaking anything for tricks of light or his imagination.

“If you decide you want to tell me the truth, you come and find me—and you better hope you do before I find it for myself,” Abe said, stepping back and leaving the engineer shaking in his boots.

Maybe the threat would be enough to loosen the man’s tongue in time, but for now the professor stepped in and reminded them that she needed to get to work if they wanted to get this train up and running again anytime soon.

“Think I’ll stay with them, if that’s alright,” Illinois said, as easy and unbothered as someone commenting on the weather and not a person contemplating staying behind to keep an eye on a potential murderer. “Safety in numbers and all that. Speaking of, will that be a problem for you?”

“I prefer to work alone,” Abe lied, eye twitching at the sound of humming coming from the other end of the car. “…But I’ll make do with what I’ve got. Too many witnesses to question and too many leads to find to wait around until the prof’s got the lights back on. Let me know if you three find anything else up here.”

Illinois nodded, his trailing, “Will do,” following Abe as he once again made their way through the baggage car, back toward the source of the humming and the others.

Abe stopped on the way though, roughly halfway down the car, to hold his lantern closer to a nick in the side of one of the metal luggage racks. He’d seen enough bullets and the paths they’d taken to recognize the marking, to be able to turn and guess where it might have been fired from: right around the dark opening of the safe where his gun was last seen.

"Oh, someone's being clever," Wilford said, leaning against the nicked shelf only for Abe to grab him and move him out of the way. "What, not even a thank you?"

“You find any luggage that might have belonged to Happy?” Abe asked as he followed the line in the other direction and began to study the boxes and trunks on the shelves.

“Nope,” Wilford answered. “Did find this, though.”

Abe glanced at the postcard Wilford held up with a proud smile, and read aloud, “Missing you more every day, XOXO Herr Ring?”

“Addressed to a Norbert Moses,” Wilford added, before glancing at the postcard himself with a little wince. “Might be a little late on that one, buddy. But there you go, not one but two names that don’t belong to anyone else on this train!...I think. I’m going to be honest, I’ve already forgotten who half these people are.”

“Where did you find that?” Abe asked.

Wilford shrugged. “On the floor, right after you told me to look for stuff. Someone went and stepped on it, see?”

He flipped the postcard around to show both an image of a red fish leaping up into the stars and the very obvious shoeprint on top of it, Wilford giving the detective a very meaning stare.

“Could be anyone’s shoeprint,” Abe said, getting a scoff out of Wilford as he went back to examining the area around the nicked shelf. “And that doesn’t really help us. It’s just a kitschy postcard that anyone could have dropped.”

“I don’t know, seems like a really important clue that deserves a, ‘good job Wilford’ or a ‘you really saved this investigation, Warfstache,’” Wilford said, imitating the detective’s voice. When Abe failed to respond, he sighed and tucked the postcard into his back pocket, muttering under his breath as he did so before he asked, “And what are you looking for that’s oh so important? Looking to steal some better clothes, maybe?”

“No, I—what’s wrong with my clothes?” Abe asked and Wilford made a face that suggested even he realized there was no good place to start there. “Look, if someone fired a gun from there, and it grazed this shelf here, then it should have hit somewhere around…”

Abe trailed off, because the longer he looked the more obvious it became that there was no endpoint here. Either his line of sight was off, or…

Or, he realized as he looked down at the blood underfoot, someone took it with them, the hard way.

And he didn’t have to think long and hard to guess who that might have been.

Wilford followed his gaze downward and said, “Not me to judge, but you really need to stop stepping on all these clues, detective.”

((End of Part 8. Thanks for reading!

On the names here: Herr Ring (and other variations) appeared on the USA website, and as for Norbert Moses, well...Memento mori.

Link to Part 9: Misplaced Motives.

Tag list: @silver-owl413 @asteriuszenith @withjust-a-bite @blackaquokat @catgirlwarrior @neverisadork @luna1350 @oh-so-creepy @95fangirl @a-bit-dapper @randomartdudette @cactipresident @hotcocoachia @purple-star-eyes @shyinspiredartist @avispate @autumnrambles @authorracheljoy @liafoxyfox@hidinginmybochard))

[koravelliumavast]

Kaladin aroace moments chronicalized by me, an ace

| TWOK | WOR | OB | ROW | KOWT |

TWOK ch 10: stories of surgeons

“Sani’s head rolled to the side, and she mumbled, drugged. She wore only a white cotton shift, her safehand exposed. Older boys in the town sniggered about the chances they’d had —or had claimed to have had— at seeing girls in their shifts, but Kal didn’t understand what the excitement was all about. He was worried about Sani, though. He always worried when someone was wounded.”

•••

TWOK ch 16: cocoons

“More and more, Kat found that he liked looking at Laral, Kat knew, logically what was happening to him. His father had explained the process of growing wich the precision of a surgeon. But there was so much feeling involved, emotions that his father's sterile descriptions hadn't explained. Some of those emotions were about Laral and the other girls of the town. Other emotions had to do with the strange blanket of melancholy that smothered him at times when he wasn't expecting.”

•••

“Kal found his eyes lingering on her again. That hair of hers was beautiful, with the two stark colors.” (Ok this reads as aesthetic attraction to me more than anything.)

•••

“Kal, if you go to war and find a Shardblade, then you’d be a lighteyes… I mean… Oh, this is useless.” She settled back, folding her arms even more tightly.

Kal scratched his head. She really was acting oddly. “I wouldn’t mind going to war, winning honor and all that. Mostly, I’d like to trace. See what other lands are like.”

•••

TWOK ch 17: A Bloody, Red Sunset

“Always keep a glowing sphere in your pocket,” Kaladin said. “It’s good luck.”

“You certain you don’t want a love potion?”

“If you get caught in the dark, you’ll have light,” Kaladin said tersely. “Besides, as you said, most people aren’t as trusting as you.”

•••

TWOK ch 25: The Butcher

Kal glanced up at the mansion again. “That’s why you encouraged me to play with Laral so much. You wanted to marry me off to her, didn’t you?”

“It was a possibility,” his mother said, returning to her work.

He honestly wasn’t certain how he felt about that

•••

How would he feel marrying someone like Laral? He’d never be her equal. Their children would have a chance of being lighteyed or darkeyed, so even his children might outrank him. He knew he’d feel terribly out of place. That was another aspect of becoming a surgeon. If he chose that path he would be choosing the life of his father. Choosing to set himself apart, to be isolated.

If he went to war, however, he would have a place. Maybe he could even do the nearly unthinkable, win a Shardblade and become a true lighteyes. Then he could marry Laral and not have to be her inferior. Was that why she’d always e chaired him to become a soldier? Had she been thinking about these kinds of things, even back then? Back then, these kinds of decisions—marriage, his future—had seemed impossibly far-off to Kal.

He felt so young. Did he really have to consider these questions?

•••

TWOK ch 37: Sides

Would he see Laral here? He was embarrassed by how infrequently he thought about her these days.

•••

So much had changed. It had been so long, and seeing her brought up old emotions. Shame, excitement. Did she know that his parents had been hoping to marry him to her? Merely seeing her again almost flustered him completely.

•••

TWOK ch 40: eyes of red and blue

Ok I don’t want to quote the whole thing because it’s like three pages. But the conversation between Kal and Sigzil at the end of the chapter where Sigzil says stuff about Kaladin being a leader and whatnot. Yeah.

•••

TWOK ch 44: the weeping

Some might find that dark hair sprinkled with foreigner blood to be unappealing for its indication of mixed blood, but to Kaladin it was alluring.

(Dictionary definition of Alluring: powerfully and mysteriously attractive or fascinating)

•••

TWOK ch 46: child of tanavast

“Your face has strong lines. Square and firm, with a proud chin. We would call it a leaders face among my people.” [Sigzil]

“I’m no lighteyes” Kaladin said, spitting to the side.

•••

TWOK ch 62: Three Glyphs

“I tried to rescue, Tarah…” He hadn’t thought of her in some time. His failure with her had been different from the others, but a failure it was nonetheless.

•••

I dont remember what chapter this is from but holy fuck that’s the gayest thing I’ve heard Moash say and Kaladin following it up with a cool thanks bro can you go help those two? KALADIN

[blackjackkent]

Went into the owlbear cave near where Edowin was killed, because a little bird (@morganaseren) told me there was a pet we could obtain here. (Y'all know my priorities so well. :P )

And there it is! IDK if this is actually the pet - I'm guessing probably not, but I wouldn't mind if it was. It's cute! What a chonker.

Also distressed. Hopefully we can help it and not get horribly mauled.

I don't think it likes us being here.

Hector completely biffed his attempt at an animal handling check, but did roll a Nat 20 on survival which allowed him to back the fuck up and not engage in combat (which his companions all approved of, presumably because it means they did not become owlbear food).

LOOK THOUGH IT HAS ITS BABY BEHIND IT

It's so smol and round look at it.

IMPORTANT DEVELOPMENT however - when Karlach leveled up, she took the Wildheart barbarian subclass which, among other things, gives her (trumpet fanfare) Speak with Animals! (Once a day.)

Unfortunately, no one in the party has a very good charisma score and hers is not top of the pack, but we'll give it a go.

The owlbear once again goes into a defensive stance as they approach - but this time, Karlach can hear its voice resonating in her head along with the clicking of its beak.

"What's this? Something weak...something tender... Won't even have to chew you before I feed you to my son, softmeat."

(A/N: And she comes precooked too!)

With the ability to communicate, even if all the communication so far is threats, Karlach is able to draw a little closer - and identify why the creature is so agitated.

"You're injured. There's still half a *spear* lodged in your head."

Acknowledging this, however, does not improve the owlbear's disposition. "It's a splinter. I've gutted bigger threats than you with worse."

OK this isn't working. Reload. (Some googling indicates that without the Animal Handling check or killing the momma owlbear we're not going to get anywhere.) Once again I end up using an inspiration on gaining animal friends and I'm okay with this. :P

(I can't wait to do a druid playthrough, bc I am going to speak with animals ALL THE TIME. XD )

Narrator: The owlbear's one good eye flicks away for a moment. You follow its glance...and see an owlbear cub.

!!!!! LOOK AT IT. LOOK HOW CUTE IT IS. IT IS SO ROUND I WANT TO LOVE IT.

Hold out your palms - you mean no harm.

Narrator: The owlbear stars, then sharply inhales your scent. It sits back, its eye still fixed on you. A silent ultimatum...you can leave now, or step closer and die.

OK fuck it I'm looking up how to do this. XD

Apparently we have to leave here, having made contact with the momma owlbear. The baby will now appear at the goblin camp of all places. So let's go over there.

Tragically, this does mean fighting all the goblins we avoided dealing with previously. BUT IT'S FOR A GOOD CAUSE.

...I think.

This was an extremely challenging battle and I'm honestly pretty proud of us for making it through. No sign of the owlbear cub though, so we'll take a long rest (which after that we really needed anyway).

(And then a whole bunch of stuff happened involving Astarion and blood which we will get to in another post because wow.)

A second long rest, however, and...

Narrator: You recognize the feathered creature - it's the owlbear cub you rescued.

AHHHHHHH LOOK AT IT IT'S SO CUTE A:LJKDSFPO:SDIHJFPAOIJ

Hector thinks so too.

Quick glance at the IGN guide because it's 1AM and I need to finish this post, which yields this incredibly excellent tidbit:

That's fkin adorable.

Also adorable: basically everyone in camp INCLUDING ASTARION approved when I brought it some food. Lae'zel was the only one unmoved by the the small friendshaped ball of fluff.

It ate the food we offered it, and then scampered off into the woods when Shadowheart spoke and startled it.

One more long rest...we're investing a lot of camp supplies in this process. :P

(Also cut for time: a giant fight between Shadowheart and Lae'zel which will also get its own post. I hope everyone's enjoying all the foreshadowing.)

(Also Scratch brought Hector a ball which was adorable.)

Finally! The final scene!

Hi again bud!

Narrator: The cub holds out his leg, revealing a ragged wound.

Aw buddy. :( Let's see if we can help with that.

[MEDICINE] Attempt to heal the injury.

Narrator: As the wound closes, the cub begins testing his weight on the leg.

Yay! Mission accomplished! We're frenz. c:

And now he's in the camp and we can pet him whenever we want!

I hereby dub him Buddy and love him forever.

[anonymousdandelion]

Upstream Factors

For @flashfictionfridayofficial's prompt "against the flow", my mind naturally went MERMAIDS. So here, have a bit of original fiction.

(This feels like the beginning to a longer story, and I'd love to tell you what happens next... but unfortunately I have no idea.)

“Marea!”

Her tail lashed, a flash of silver-green scales propelling her through the freshwater waves with equal parts ease and purpose. Calder swam quickly in her wake, though it was all he could do to keep up with his friend’s pace in the water. 

“Marea, where are you going?”

She paused at last to float, turning to face him — but she was frowning, and the set of her jaw told him her mind was made up. “I told you already. I’m going up-River.”

She pointed at the broad, fast-moving stream just beyond them.

“But you can’t!”

“I can try.”

He groped desperately for another argument. “But, but the current…”

“I’ve swum against the flow of currents before,” she said mildly. “Even the River can’t be worse than the rip.”

Remembering the many upstream races they’d shared in happier times, Calder couldn’t help but concede that point.

“It’s longer than a rip, though,” he tried.

“Yes, and no one knows how long it is, because no one has ever bothered trying to find out. I know that.” She made a face. “Look, if you think the current is too strong, you don’t need to stop me. Its flow will just carry me back, won’t it?”

But what if it doesn’t? Calder didn’t say. Or what if… if something bad happens, and it carries you back too late? Or… 

“The cleanup,” he said instead. “What about the cleanup crew? We need your help.”

Marea shook her head, the movement rippling out around them. “The cleanup isn’t enough. It’s a temporary solution which means it’s not a solution at all. And you know it.”

He did know it. Everyone knew it, he suspected — though fewer of them were inclined to admit it. The general preference seemed to be to concentrate on alleviating the immediate crisis, catching and removing the ever-increasing junk and debris, with the assumption that if they just held out long enough things would get better again. 

Except that things were getting worse instead of better, and even Calder couldn’t deny that Marea was right.

~ ~ ~

For time uncounted, the Lake had been a home of health and prosperity for the Mer who dwelt in her waters.

They lived and died alongside the many fish, mammals, coral, and other undersea life that shared their world. They swam, and ate, and laughed, and loved, and occasionally fought among themselves, and generally thrived amid the rich ecosystem of which they were a part.

The Lake was their home; the Mer were the Lake’s people; and, for a very long time, all was well.

That was before the River Trouble began.

The River had, of course, always been there — at the far northern shore, feeding the Lake and perpetually refreshing her waters. The flow was fast, the current strong enough to discourage any wishes to explore far upstream. Besides, there was never any reason someone should want to. The Lake held all they needed.

And then, for the first time, the River began to carry harm.

Foreign substances, both solid and liquid, which had no place in the Lake and damaged those who had the misfortune to encounter it. Objects, oils, and other things which seemed to fit within neither category; 

Death and disease had always had a presence in the Lake; it was only natural. But never before had they been brought by the flow of the River.

The Mer, recognizing the emergency at hand, formed teams. They watched the place where the River met the Lake, and intercepted the potential harm as much as possible. They cleaned what they might, extracted what they could, and confined what they could not.

The Mer worked hard, and fast, and skillfully. They knew, like none other, how to work with their Lake and harness her resources in her defense. 

But the Trouble kept coming, and that was harder and faster still.

~ ~ ~

“It has to be coming from somewhere,” said Marea quietly. “It has to. Somewhere up-River, the Trouble is entering the water before it gets to us. Somebody has to find out where it’s coming from… and why.”

Calder looked at her, and he saw that he could no more change her mind than he could convince the River to flow in the opposite direction.

He nodded, then, and swam up beside her, taking one last look at the Lake surrounding them. Even now, with so much going wrong, it was still beautiful.

“All right,” he said. “Let’s go.”

That got Marea’s attention. She stared at him. “But— you—”

He shrugged with a curl of the tail. “It won’t be my first time going against the flow either, you know.”

She cracked a smile at that, and reached for his hand.

Together, they entered the River, to swim against the current and find the Trouble’s source.

[csoisoi]

iruma's road

mowgli's road by marina screams iruma to me

Ten silver spoons coming after me, One life with one dream on repeat, I'll escape if I try hard enough, Till, King of the Jungle calls my bluff

'silver spoon' means wealth or inherited wealth, and when applied to iruma, it can be read as his being adopted by sullivan, one of the three greats, chairman of babylus, and obviously a wealthy, if not one of the wealthiest demons

in his life in the demon world, his dream, his current ambition, is to rank up and its pretty much repeated every season and in each arc, and it's central to the series' storyline as well as lore, because rank 10 can only be held by the demon king

the third line is more complicated to me, but i see it as iruma escaping his fear of being eaten and/or escaping his fear and doubts of living in the netherworld. and the fourth line, the king calling his bluff, reads as maybe baal, kirio, or whoever else calling him out as being a human

Oh Lord, (Oh Lord) I have been told, (I have been told) That I must take the unforsaken road (Forsaken road)

read the line "take the unforsaken road" as at first being told to take the hard path, but unforsaken means that it hasnt been forsaken so it means to take the easy path. so in this context, it's iruma's initial plan to stay quiet and unseen, to not be noticed and be the center of attention during his stay at babylus, and as a whole, the netherworld. but the repeated 'Forsaken road' is like iruma inevitably being dragged to live the 'hard' way, dragged from the easy road to the harder one, he becomes the center of attention and leader of the misfits (seeing as he lead the misfits into getting the Royal One)

There's a fork in the road, I'll do as as I am told, And I don't know, (Don't know, don't know, don't know, don't know) Who...I want to be.

no need for an explanation but like i'll type anyway. the chorus is real catchy i love how its sang.

"theres a fork in the road", the fork's first path is his initial desire to go back to the human realm, and the second is to stay in the netherworld, this takes place when opera asks iruma if he wanted to go back to the human realm, i can't remember what chapter this takes place explicitly but it's brought up during chapter 199

"i'll do as i am told" his parents practically controlled his every decision from when he was younger, taking advantage of him and his inability to refuse, and the last line is him where iruma isn't sure whether if he even wants to go back

You say Y-E-S to everything, Will that guarantee you a win? Do you think you will be good enough, To love others and to be loved?

OK NOW THIS IS THE VERSE THAT MADE ME SAY: OH IRUMA.

first line is obvious, iruma's a yes man and he says yes to practically everything. but is him being compliant bring good? obviously not but more often than not, from when we were young, saying yes and being compliant is always seen as the good thing, but being compliant doesnt always do good, it can cause a person to not be able to stand up for themselves, have a harder time in choosing for their own, and become dependent on others to tell them what to do

third and fourth line, "do you think you will be good enough, to love others and to be loved?" i pictured the scene during iruma and sullivan's talk of the demon king being the netherworld. will iruma be good enough to become the demon king? can he love other people and can he be loved back? (thinking of the six fingers hmm)

Oh Lord, (Oh Lord) Now I can see, (Now I can see) The cutlery will keep on chasing me, (Forsaken road)

call back to the first line of the song, no matter what he does, those silver spoons will keep chasing him as the grandson of lord sullivan, getting the opportunity to become a candidate for the seat of the demon king, and the forsaken road is still the same, to work hard to get through the netherworld, not anymore trying to walk the easy road and fade into the background, but now to live among the demons as an equal.

There's a fork in the road, I'll do as as I am told, And I don't know, (Don't know, don't know, don't know, don't know) Who...I want to be.

still love the chorus. but now on the second repeat, catching up to the harvest festival, the fork in the road was his struggle in being bachiko's student and his decision to either give up on her being his teacher, or persevere and push through. he pushes through and he did everything he was told during the first phase of the mentorship, tutorship? and it didnt work out, he was frustrated

third and fourth line, in this time, iruma didn't really have a specific moment of Who Am I, so imagine these lines as his putting those thoughts aside, until the last repeat of the chorus.

We are the spoons, metal-ly mean We scooped our way into your dreams, To knock the knives out bloody cold, And lead you down the unforsaken road.

ok now this verse made me confused about what it really meant, but i read it as the spoons being a metaphor for the netherworld, how it affected iruma as a person and character and it becoming the indirect center of his dream/ambition. metal-ly mean is just going to reference how rough and hard living in the demon world is.

the knives i see as iruma's initial defensiveness and self-sacrificial way of living, the spoon knocking down the knives is the netherworld making iruma reevaluate his old way of living, and if not the netherworld making him change, then his friends and teachers, telling and reminding him that it's alright to ask for help, and that they're there for him

the fourth line mentioning the unforsaken road made me think oh is the line connecting ive been doing for this verse just plain wrong

so another interpretation (that was the word i was looking for, interpretation) is the spoons being iruma's parents, and the knives being his determination and love for the netherworld.

orobas' bloodline ability, Trauma, centers on this verse. the spoons, iruma's parents, suddenly show up and try to scoop iruma back into the human world, away from the realm he grew used to and was loved and had been loved in. they knock down iruma's knives, the knives being his realization of the perception of self-worth and preservation, and drag him back with them to the 'unforsaken road' that is living in the human world

There's a fork in the road, I'll do as as I am told, And I don't know, (Don't know, don't know, don't know, don't know) Who...I want to be

last chorus of the song. now, post-trauma scene. there's no interpretation for the lines now, the fork in the road had been long passed, and he chose the forsaken road. he's thinking about how he used to do what he's been told to do, and thinks about how much he had grew since then. He used to not know what he wanted to be, unsure of what to even do.

But now, he knows what he wants to be; he knows what his ambition is. to rank up, to live in the netherworld, to be the demon king.

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Matthew Gault

Published: Feb 6, 2023

The Taliban may have won the war in Afghanistan, but the jihadists who once spent their days riding horses in the countryside are now stuck behind a desk, lamenting their boring computer jobs, spending all their time on Twitter, high rent, and commutes to work.

It’s been almost two years since the U.S. withdrew from Afghanistan and the Taliban took over. In that time, the country’s new leaders have had time to take over its industries, occupy its buildings, and get very bored of the day-to-day drudgery of running the Islamic Emirate of Afghanistan. 

In a series of interviews with five former mujahideen turned government functionaries and police officers, the Afghanistan Analytics Network shed light on the inner lives of the men who spent a lifetime fighting an empire only to win and have to run a country.

The Afghanistan Analytics Network is a non-profit research agency. Researcher Sabawoon Samin conducted the interviews in person, primarily in Kabul. He interviewed five members of the Taliban to see how they’re adjusting to victory. “They ranged in age from 24 to 32 and had spent between six and 11 years in the Taliban, at different ranks: a Taliban commander, a sniper, a deputy commander and two fighters,” Samin said in his piece. After the fall of the Islamic Republic, the men secured jobs for the new government in Kabul. Two got civilian jobs and the other three got security positions. 

Huzaifa, a former sniper, said life was simple and free during jihad. “All we had to deal with was making plans for ta’aruz [attacks] against the enemy and for retreating,” he said. “People didn’t expect much from us, and we had little responsibility towards them, whereas now if someone is hungry, he deems us directly responsible for that…the Taliban used to be free of restrictions, but now we sit in one place, behind a desk and a computer 24 hours a day, seven days a week. Life’s become so wearisome; you do the same things every day. Being away from the family has only doubled the problem.”

“I sometimes miss the jihad life for all the good things it had,” said 25-year-old Abdul Nafi. “In our ministry, there’s little work for me to do. Therefore, I spend most of my time on Twitter. We’re connected to speedy Wi-Fi and internet. Many mujahedin, including me, are addicted to the internet, especially Twitter.”

None of the interviewed men are native to Kabul, they’re all men from the provinces who moved into the city after the U.S. left. “I haven’t brought my family to Kabul, Omar Mansur told Samin. “The rent of houses is very high for us since our salary is no more than 15,000 afghanis [roughly 180 USD]. It is fully sufficient for Yahyakhel but not for Kabul. As soon as, God willing, I have a good salary, I will bring my family here.”

Mansu also complained about the traffic. “Last year, it was tolerable but in the last few months, it’s become more and more congested,” he said. Then he lamented the freedom he lost when the Taliban won the war. 

“In the group, we had a great degree of freedom about where to go, where to stay, and whether to participate in the war,” he said “However, these days, you have to go to the office before 8 AM and stay there till 4 PM. If you don’t go, you’re considered absent, and [the wage for] that day is cut from your salary. We’re now used to that, but it was especially difficult in the first two or three months.”

A man named Kamran also lamented office life. “I’m sort of happy with my job but often miss the time of jihad. During that time, every minute of our life was counted as worship,” he said. “We used to live among the people. Many of us have now caged ourselves in our offices and palaces, abandoning that simple life. I’m very concerned about our mujahedin. The real test and challenge was not during the jihad. Rather, it’s now. At that time, it was simple, but now things are much more complicated. We are tested by cars, positions, wealth and women. Many of our mujahedin, God forbid, have fallen into these seemingly sweet, but actually bitter traps.”

Peace and civilization has its drawbacks, and the warriors of the Taliban have spent more than a generation fighting. It’s hard to flip the switch and make the transition. It’s still difficult not to miss the days of the jihad,” Abdul Nafi, a farmer, said, lamenting the pursuit of money that’s coming to dominate life in Afghanistan.

Nafi has also realized how replaceable he is.“There is a proverb in our area that money is like a shackle,” he said. “Now, if we complain, or don’t come to work, or disobey the rules, they cut our salary. Unlike jihad, now particularly, when the battles are long gone and the risk is zero, the Emirate could find countless people to work with them in return for a salary.”

==

Be careful what you wish for. This is like an SNL skit parodying "The Office."

I don't know whether access to Twitter is a good thing - exposure to western ideas, criticism of Islamic doctrine, etc - or a bad thing - war-like agitation among war-prone barbarians.

Who knows? The Taliban might become infected with an Intersectionally Transmitted Disease and implode in a frenzy of identity politics. Can postmodernism deconstruct even the Taliban?