#now i sound like a wizard instead of a cop

[acmeofficial]

How do the agents feel about your objectives changing on a whim about every couple of days?

Like we're trying to stop vile, nope we're chasing carmen sandiego, oh well now we're after vile again great

our main goal is always vile. carmens just a stepping stone 😌but we all get paid hella good so like who the fuck cares what chief wants us to do we do it

[marauderverse]

With Love// F.W x Reader pt.3

Summary: Y/n Dursley of number 4 Privet Drive hates her life. That was, of course, until the summer before grade 9, after an oddly charming redhead and his brothers helped her cousin escape. it was probably a good thing he forgot to return that key.

word count: 1.5k

Dear y/n,

It was nice to see you the other day; you’re looking even more beautiful than I remember. I wish I had been able to write to you earlier, but a lot has happened since. There was an attack at the Quidditch World Cup, but don’t worry, everyone is safe mum has been more overbearing since. She confiscated all our tongue-tonne toffee before we left, so we had to start again. 

Anyway I know I've been saying this for almost a year, but I really hope we can catch up over the coming summer I’ll be of age so hopefully mum will let me go to London by myself, and even if she doesn’t, I’ll slip away to see you.

With love, Fred

Dear Fred,

I did see what happened. Since Harry told me what happened last year with Sirius, I’ve been getting the daily prophet delivered here, which until now I didn’t realise I could do until now. But I saw it and was halfway through writing a letter to Harry before your letter arrived. I do hope that the muggle family were alright afterwards. But I would love to meet up with you in London over the summer, anything to get away from these crazy people. 

Make sure Harry writes back to me as well. I think he’s been ignoring my letters lately.

With love, Y/n

Dear Y/n,

George and I have been playing with a new prank idea. Basically, it's a custard creme that turns into a giant bird when someone eats it. We aren't entirely sure how we will do it, but what do you think? 

Anyway, we are going back to Hogwarts soon, and Bill, Charlie, Percy and Dad have been acting really weird lately, they keep dropping hints about something that’s going to happen at Hogwarts this year, but they aren’t allowed to say. I think that's bullshit, they just like tormenting us. 

Anyway, all is fine here, I hope to hear from you soon.

With Love, Fred

Dear Fred,

Sorry for not getting back sooner, I’ve been doing a lot of back-to-school preparation, that and all the summer work I’ve been neglecting to do until now. But good luck with school tomorrow, I hope you have a good year, I know I won’t. And send me a letter as soon as you find out what’s happening at Hogwarts this year that sounds very exciting. 

I have to get all my information from you now because Harry won’t tell me anything anymore.  

Don’t get into too much trouble.

With Love, Y/n

Dear Y/n,

You’re never going to believe what’s happening this year at Hogwarts. 

The Triwizard tournament. 

I know you don’t know what that means, but I guess it would be comparable to the Olympics. But they stopped doing it for a long long time because it was super dangerous and stuff, but they are bringing it back and Hogwarts is hosting this year. And we are having students from the french and bulgarian wizarding schools. 

Anyway, they aren’t coming for a few more weeks now. 

I wish you were a witch i could see you more. 

With Love, Fred

Dear Fred, 

You’re right, I have no idea what it means. But how do you know about the olympics? Anyway, I wish my school was as exciting as that. The only thing that's happened so far is Jenny and Ella got into a huge fight over some guy they were both seeing. It was pretty brutal. I think one of them lost a tooth.

It's dull here, since Harry left Dudley has taken to tormenting me instead, he brings his friends around sometimes and they creep me out.

Anyway, are you thinking of entering the tournament? Are you even allowed to? 

With love, y/n

Dear y/n 

I know about the Olympics because I take a muggle studies class which is exactly what it sounds like. We learn a whole heap here, Percy told me it would be a cop out when I put my name down to do it but you know what I think about Percy and his opinions. It’s actually a lot of fun, I’ve learned quite a bit and it was one of the three subjects I got an O.W.L in (which I think might be similar to your GCSEs?)

Anyway yes I am thinking about entering and so if George it sounds amazing and there’s a 1000 galleon prize for the winner and we’ve decided if we win it’s going straight to our joke shop. And if we get the money there will be no need for us to go back next year.

I know mum won’t be pleased about that at all, but she’ll have to accept it.

The students from the other schools are. coming soon and I’m excited to see what they’re like.

With love, Fred

Dear Y/n,

I haven’t heard from you in a while, is everything okay? George says I’ve been sulking but i haven’t. There’s not much to report on my end. But i hope to hear from you soon.

Hope the Muggles are treating you right.

With Love, Fred

Dear Fred,

I’m sorry it’s been so long. Dudley had his creepy little friends over a few weeks ago and one of them was creeping into my room I accidentally on purpose pushed him down the steps and he may or may not have fractured a wrist or two. And I’ve been grounded for a month. 

I hope you have a good Halloween, Harry told me you guys go all out. I’m so jealous I wish we didn’t have to do Dudley’s stupid diet, I'm withing away to nothing here.

Anyway, were you and George able to get into the tournament?  

I’m sorry this letter isn’t very substantial but nothing has been happening here.

With love, Y/n

Dear Y/n,

No, George and I weren’t able to enter we arent’t old enough. That prat Diggory is the hogwarts champion, you know the one i was telling you about last year? 

Something strange happened tho, Harry’s name was drawn as well and no one knows how, you know since he isn’t of age and stuff. 

But all us in Gryffindor are so excited, i know he’s gonna crush diggory. 

I can’t wait for the summer, i really want to see your beautiful face again. 

With Love, Fred

Dear Fred,

How did Harry’s name get drawn? You old me the tournament is really dangerouse is there nothing anyone can do? Is that even legal?

Can you get Harry to write me a letter please, guilt trip him or something but i hate that i had to find this out from you. Please keep me updated on him i don’t know why he won’t write back. 

But I also can’t wait to see you again.

With Love, Y/n

Dear Y/n, 

You should have seen Harry today, I know you’ve been stressed about him but like I said he’s just too good. 

He had to get past a dragon and everyone else did really boring stuff but Harry flew! He summoned his broom and flew past the dragons it was amazing. 

Anyway, we’re having a ball soon and I’m supposed to ask a girl to go with me but I wish I could take you. I think I’ll end up taking my friend Angelina though. 

With love, Fred

Dear Fred, 

Merry Christmas! 

Sorry, this letter is a few days late I got grounded again and school is getting a bit crazy. I hope it’s not weird that I’m sending you something. But as an explanation, those are a few records of my favourite muggle artists. Harry told me that modern electronics don't work because of the magical interference but he said that there was an old record player in Gryffindor Tower and it worked so hopefully they work. 

You can ask him to show you how to use them, I taught him how to use Dad's one when he was younger so he should remember. 

Also was that your mother who sent me the sweater? It didn’t come with a note but Harry has a few that look similar and he said they were from her. 

Anyway, I hope the ball was fun, we have dances at our school but I've never been to one. 

With love, Y/n

Dear Y/n,

Thank you so much for the gifts they’re brilliant. 

We’ve actually learnt how to use electronics in muggle studies. The record player still worked and i listened to all the records. I really enjoyed the band nirvana and queen.

The ball was kind of boring if im being honest, i think it would have been more fun if you were there. 

Harrys second task is coming closer as well and im excited to see what he does for that one. 

Also yes it was my mum who sent you that sweater, now you're apart of the family officially. I think she said she made ours the same colour so we can match now. 

With Love, Fred

tagged: @aki-ham @ashdoctor @

[tdciago]

My Fargo Thoughts

Originally posted to Reddit and removed by moderators. Posting here for my own records.

Viewers probably think that Dot looks at the Bisquick boxes and breakfast ads at the Gas 'n Go with only Scotty in mind, but I think there's something more. We will flash back to Dot's kidnapping, to show what happened after she was cornered. She will further injure Donald Ireland, and Munch will give his monologue about kings and his early life, culminating with his request for pancakes. This will have a profound effect on Dot. Her vigorous stirring of batter also creates a little tornado-like whirlpool effect in the mixing bowl, a reference to Dorothy Gale. Let's remember that Liberal, Kansas (the setting for *East/West*) is both the pancake hub of the universe and the self-proclaimed home of Dorothy Gale.

GENDER-SWAPPING AND NON-CONFORMITY

Scotty "the cross-dresser" is the most obvious example here, choosing a suit over a dress, liking ninjas instead of dolls, etc. But the preview shows that Dot and Munch are also going to start dressing like each other. Dot will don a long green coat and become more ferocious, and Munch will wear what looks like a woman's coat with a fur collar and windowpane plaid, mimicking Dot's appearance. These two have a connection of some kind. They are kindred spirits. Also, from the very start of the story, Dot wears pants and Munch wears a kilt. Noah Hawley has said that this season will examine our perception of gender roles.

BRAINS

We've already had a couple of zombie references, and brains are their food of choice. Donald Ireland, demonstrating his thematic connection to the Scarecrow from *The Wizard of Oz*, moans that he needs his brain when Dot suggests that his facial burns could lead to brain infection. Dot also tells Wayne to call Scotty for dinner before her brain turns to mush from watching cartoons, and she mentions some story about a man going to the hospital for a kidney transplant, but ending up with someone else's brain.

DECAPITATION?

All the zombie/brain discussion leads me to suspect that someone will be decapitated on Halloween. We see an inflatable pumpkinheaded figure holding a skull outside the Lyon home, and Witt tells the convenience store clerk to get down before he loses his head.

PIRATES

Dot reads a story about pirates to Scotty, and previews show that she will try to buy a gun from a salesman dressed as a pirate at Gun World. That salesman has an eye patch over his right eye, like Danish Graves, perhaps suggesting that Danish is himself a pirate in some way. I think he knows more than he lets on about Dot's origins.

MIRROR IMAGERY

I've posted before about a possible "mirror universe" theme in season 5, as Noah Hawley has used that term to describe the internet vs. the real world, and how we see enemies in the mirror, when it's actually just a distorted image of ourselves.

With that in mind, we have the mirror-image leopard wallpaper in Dot's bathroom; Munch looking in a mirror and Dot appearing from behind to attack him; Munch seeing the cop car in his rear-view mirror; and Gator noticing his murdered companion in the side-view mirror. The previews also show Dot and Munch mirroring each other's clothing.

There are also mirrored themes in both Donald Ireland and Josh Hunk suffering burns, when both are Scarecrow substitites. And both Roy and Lorraine believe that Dot owes them something via her marriage vows.

THE WIZARD OF OZ

I've talked about these references for months, and now we begin to see them play out.

The name Dorothy Lyon is an obvious nod to Dorothy Gale and the Cowardly Lion. It's clear that Wayne represents the Cowardly Lion, who will find his courage in the end.

The surname Tillman sounds like Tin Man. Roy is a self-proclaimed "hard man for hard times." He ironically lounges in a hot tub, with a steam pipe reminiscent of the Tin Man's hat, and he mentions a "rainy day fund." Water is the Tin Man's enemy, as it causes him to rust. What does this foreshadow? Like the Tin Man, Roy is heartless.

See https://imgur.com/a/t5aWVTi

The name Munch is (among other things) a reference to the Munchkins.

The name Donald (meaning *world leader*) Ireland (*the Emerald Isle*) points to the Scarecrow, who was made ruler of the Emerald City until the return of Princess Ozma. Donald ireland reinforces this connection by lamenting the potential loss of his brain, and being set on fire, the Scarecrow's greatest fear. In *The Wizard of Oz*, Dorothy throws water on the Scarecrow to put out the flames. Here, Dot uses ice (frozen water) to hit Donald Ireland and cause him to die by striking the porcelain toilet, which also contains water.

Josh and Lenore Hunk bear the name of the Kansas farmhand who becomes the Scarecrow in Oz. Josh Hunk will also suffer burns when Roy throws hot coffee in his face.

Lorraine Lyon, for now, is playing the villainous role of the Wicked Witch of the West, as well as the role of Mombi, the witch who had Princess Ozma kidnapped and turned into a boy named Tip to hide her as the rightful ruler of Oz. *Mom* Lorraine frequently wears black, and has artwork in her office that depicts women's legs, bringing to mind the legs of the Wicked Witch of the East, sticking out from under Dorothy's house.

See https://imgur.com/a/Xg5L5x0

The Wicked Witch of the West controlled both the Winkie guards and the flying monkeys through the power of a golden cap. Not only does Lorraine seem to love gold everything, but her non-entity husband is named Wink.

The word *grave* in Danish means *dig*, and the Wizard's real name was Oscar *Diggs*. This suggests that Danish Graves may be a Wizard figure. For now, he is certainly Lorraine's flying monkey.

Dot's bloody feet are the ruby slippers. Her many yellow sweaters represent the Yellow Brick Road. She will also be seen wearing a rainbow-striped sweater, another clear reference to Dorothy.

THE LADY, OR THE TIGER?

The title of this short story has come to mean an unsolvable problem. Dot fills both the role of the lady and the tiger at once, and we are presented with the seemingly unsolvable problem of how she got home to Scandia, MN from Beulah, ND, over 500 miles away, on foot, with no shoes.

Indira Olmstead is shown dealing with her own unsolvable problem of financial debt. As she reviews her bills, we see two art pieces behind her on the wall, depicting a lady on one side, and a tiger on the other.

Episode 4 is titled *Insolubilia*, which literally refers to an unsolvable problem.

(Continued in reblog)

[sweetbillwriting]

This Is Bad, Billy -

Part 1 - Like In The Movies

Description: 1961. Joanie is a dreamer. She dreams of Hollywood, fashion and handsome men. Her favorite is the actor Billy Skarsgård. When she works as a volunteer at the hospital she meets him in an unexpected way and comes closer to him than she thought was possible.

Characters: AU Bill Skarsgård, here called Billy. He's inspired by real life Bill but also the character Clark Olofsson in the Netflix series Clark.

Setting: This story is set in the 60s L.A and a smaller town close to L.A.

Warnings: 18+, historical preferences, mental health problems, mental illness, abuse, drugs, religious themes, sexual themes.

The darkness of the movie theater was like a second home to me and I only left when I was forced to. It started with me and my father going to the cinema when my mom traveled away to help my older sister through her pregnancy. My dad and I didn't have so much to talk about so sitting in silence in a movie theater was perfect. We started out watching classics like The Wizard of Oz and Snow White but with time we started to watch the newest dramas and even some adventure movies. When My mom's travels to my sister became less and less my father's interest in the movies decreased but I was stuck. I couldn't just stop because I lived as much in the movies as I did in real life. When my father chose to do more important things than be with me I continued to go to the theater. My mother wasn't happy that I went by myself but after I graduated from high school I had time to go to the early showings and choose the darkness instead of the light of day. After I had celebrated my eighteenth birthday I could start watching all the movies I had just dreamt about and it was then I found him, Billy. Billy never played the good guy, he wasn't that dreamy perfect date Audrey Hepburn chose to kiss, Billy played the bad guy. In horror movies he played the murderer and in thrillers he was the rich guy you shouldn't trust. My fascination for him maybe sounded odd but right in that moment Billy was one of the more interesting actors and many girls dreamt about kissing his full lips. He was still so young, in his mid 20s, but already with a mysticism and poise as a man. But there was little information about him, probably because of his Swedish background and I wasn't even really sure how old he was and the tabloids seem to have the same problem. Billy was a mystery but became an even bigger mystery for me after I saw him on the psychiatric ward. Maybe it should have scared me seeing him there and having the cops all over him. He must have done something really bad for the police to treat him like that. Maybe he was a murderer just like the characters he played? 

When I got home in the early morning after my shift at the hospital I took out the shoebox under my bed and looked through all the articles about celebrities I've saved. Even if Billy was my absolute favorite there weren't many with him. He wasn't the biggest name in cinema but it also seemed like he didn't want to share much about himself and on several questions he would answer "no comment". I had always seen that as proof of his star qualities but had now realized Billy probably just had things he wanted to stay in the shadows. 

I wondered if I would see him again and when I slipped into bed with my curler in my bang and long sleeved nightgown I fantasized about meeting him again and how it all was a misunderstanding I could solve and as a thank you he would kiss me deeply like he kissed girls in the movies. I blushed to myself when I thought about his hand under my blouse but dragged a hand over my chest to feel how it might feel to let a boy that close. 

My mother could never learn to let me sleep in after a night shift and woke me up at nine a clock, after just three hours of sleep. 

"You can't sleep away the whole day. Do you want scramble eggs for breakfast?" She asked after she had dragged me out of bed and then she began to make my bed. I whined loudly and thought about my weird dream about Billy Skarsgård. That he was a patient in the psychiatric ward. I stood tiredly in the middle of the floor while my mother laid out a dress for me on the bed as if I were a kid. She had chosen the yellow one I hated because it was much longer than my other dresses and I didn't even show collarbones wearing it. It was a dress for a high school girl, not a grown woman like me. 

While putting on the dress and doing my hair in a high ponytail I thought back to the dream and realized it actually wasn't a dream. The odd experience had actually happened. Earlier it had felt like a pain to go back to the hospital with all the jealous girls and grumpy doctor's but now I looked forward to it and started to plan how I would be able to go back to the psychiatric ward. Maybe I was just as insane as the patients there but I just thought about Billy's smile towards me and his broad back clad in black leather. 

This could be an adventure of a lifetime. Just like in the movies. 

×××

The reception room at the psychiatric ward looked the same as the night before, just as empty and silent but this time there was a younger woman sitting at the desk. Also she read, but a novel this time. It looked like something cheap and romantic, a book my mother would never let me read. 

"Excuse me, is Mrs. Larsen here tonight?" 

The woman looked up at me with an embarrassed face and I couldn't stop wondering what she actually just had been reading. 

"Yes, if you sit down I can get her for you?" 

I smiled and waved a little with the striped apron I had on. 

"I work here so I can look by myself?" 

"Okay. I mean, yes. I think she is in her office, it's past the staff room." The woman said while she stood up from the desk and locked up the door to the ward's long corridor.  

I smiled a little and tried to look more confident than I was when I walked into the corridor. In my head I repeated the same two words over and over to feel more sure about myself: 

Doctor's daughter. Doctor's daughter. Doctor's daughter. 

Nothing bad would happen to me because I was the doctor's daughter. 

×××

Last time I was in the corridor for the mentally ill all the doors to the patients were closed but tonight one door was open. I was forced to go by it to go to the staff room but instead of getting nervous or scared I felt excited. It must be Billy's room. My thought wasn't logical but right then and there, there was only one patient at the psychiatric ward for me. I looked in through the door while walking by and saw two male caretakers talking loudly and irritated to someone. 

"No, time to sleep!" Said one of the caretakers and pushed down a person onto the steel framed bed. I thought back to the night before and became even more sure that it was Billy. It must be him that the caretaker got that irritated with. I stood and looked in through the door as if it were some sort of performance I was watching and just hoped to see Billy's face but when the caretaker moved away I saw it was an older woman. Tears streamed down her wrinkled skin while she muttered something to herself. She tried to push the caretakers away but they just continued to push her down in bed. 

"Who are you?" Said one of the caretakers when he found me staring at them in the doorway. 

"Excuse me, I work here. Just going to the staff room," I said with flushed cheeks and showed off my striped apron like it was my golden ticket. The caretaker just nodded and then took a hold of the old lady's wrist in a vise grip. She yelped in pain and I swallowed hard by seeing her pained expression. Why did they handle her so roughly? 

I had a bad feeling when I walked away from the lady's room but tried to think about why I was there. Billy. I walked into the staff room that was much more welcoming than the rest of the ward. There were floral curtains on the windows, crochet table cloths and colorful paintings. I put on my hat and fixed my apron before knocking Mrs. Larsen's office door. I begged silently to myself that this would go well. 

Mrs.Larsen opened with a wrapped sandwich in her hand and covered her full mouth with a hand. 

"Oh, Ms. Woods. Can I help you with something?" 

I gave her a puzzled look and looked around confused. All an act like I'd planned. 

"You said yesterday that I should come tonight too?" 

Mrs. Larsen swallowed dryly and brushed away some crumbs on her top lip. 

"Did I? I'm sorry, I don't remember that. I guess I must have been tired." 

I looked at her with big eyes and played with my fingers in front of me and my sweet way seemed to charm her. 

"Oh well, we can probably find you something to do tonight too," she said with a smile and moved away from the door so I could walk into her little cramped office. 

××× 

Annike let me put the breakfast together with two nurses with kitchen duties. In the other wards the patients could write down what they wanted and then it was served in their rooms, this was not the way here. The food was prepared lovelessly and was put up in big serving dishes. I didn't even see them put butter on the bread. As soon as the clock turned five it was time for us to serve the food. I felt ashamed looking at the tired food presented as a buffet in the dining room and I guess the oldest of the nurses, Connie, saw what I was thinking and gave me a look. 

"Many of them don't even know what they are eating. I don't think they can even taste things," she said while I looked down at the floor. It sounded just like an excuse, of course they could sense taste. 

"Time to wake them up! Go and help the caretakers!" Said Connie with a strict voice and almost pushed me away. I hadn't believed I would come so close to the patients and got a bit nervous. In the corridor I could see one caretaker walk around and lock up the doors while the others went inside to help the patient up from the bed, or I guessed that was what they did. Just to do my part I opened a door and could see a girl my own age sitting in the bed. She was heavily pregnant and rubbed her eyes from sleep. 

"Breakfast?" I said and she gave me a confused look but then she nodded with a smile. 

"Thank you for…" She didn't say anything more because a caretaker looked into the room and she started to put on a green ragged cardigan. l smiled a little and then took the next door and opened. In the middle of the floor stood a man who looked around confused. 

"Hey?" I said carefully. The man didn't seem to hear me so I took a step into the room. 

"Hello?" The man looked at me with tired eyes but then started to laugh. Just when it started to feel scary a male caretaker dragged me out of the room. 

"You shouldn't be here! If you want to help you can wake up the patients in the beginning of the hallway!” He screamed at me while he closed the door in front of the male patient's face. I stood quietly in shock but then felt a mix of panic and relief when I heard the male patient hit and scream against the other side of the door.

"Go! "Now!" Said the caretaker angrily and with my heart in my throat I ran to the first door in the corridor and opened it quickly with adrenaline in my body. 

"Girl, girly!" Said a man in the room. "I'm naked!" He said at the same time I had realized the fact he had just given me. A long manly body laid stretched from head to toe in the bed and I panicked and turned around so fast I hit the wall. Behind me the man chuckled a little. 

"Sorry… Are you okay, honey?" He asked when I covered my jaw after I had hit in the wall. I didn't say anything because I was a bit annoyed in the middle of my embarrassment. He was laying naked in a psychiatric ward but laughed at me because I had walked into a wall. He was insane for real. 

"Yes, I'm fine." I said with a trembling voice and rubbed my jaw as I thought I could wipe away the pain. 

"Is it breakfast?" He said in an almost happy tone and I wondered if I needed to be afraid of him too. 

"Yes," I said embarrassed without turning around. I hadn't forgotten that there was a naked man behind me. I didn't want my first experience seeing a penis being together with a patient in the looney bin. 

"Oh I'm so hungry… Ehh… Will you release me?"

I furrowed my brows and looked down at my white pumps. 

"What do you mean?" 

"Well, they said to you to wake me up for breakfast?" 

"Yes?" 

"Then you must release the handcuffs." 

I looked up from my shoes, up at the wall. There was something in me that wanted to turn around and look at what he meant but all I could see in my head was my own imagination of what manhood looked like. My sister had said that they are really different at daytime and nighttime and I couldn't understand at all what she meant with that. 

"Hand… Handcuffs?'' I said carefully. At that moment it suddenly hit me that I recognized the voice of the man. Was it actually Billy Skarsgård who was lying naked behind me, cuffed to the steel frame of the bed? 

"Handcuffs," he just said and moved his hands so I could hear the metal of the handcuff slam against the bed frame. 

"Bill… Bill, Billy?" I stuttered. I couldn't stop my impulses and now the craving was bigger of knowing if it was Billy behind me than the need to be a good girl. 

He laughed silently. 

"Yes. I'm Billy… What's your name, honey?" 

My heart beated in my chest loudly and I forgot every important thing when I understood who I was talking to so with a hammering heart and eagerness I turned around even if he was naked. 

"Oh my god!" I first said excitedly then I saw his naked body. The broad chest, the long, hairy legs but also his sex lying soft against his thigh surrounded with dark pubic hair. 

"Oh my god!" I said again and turned around again horrified. There was so much naked skin. The only human I had seen that naked was myself. I heard Billy laugh again. 

"Do you have the keys?" 

I ran out of the room. I didn't have any keys but I was also terrified of seeing a naked man like that. Billy Skarsgård naked. I felt some sort of anxiousness by seeing it but it got even worse when I realized I wanted to see it again. Especially his manhood. 

I stood in a blushing mess and stared into the wall opposite of the door to Billy's room and I could hear a male caretaker walk into him. 

"Have you traumatized the girl for life now?” He said with a natural tone. 

"With my naked body? I think my body is extremely normal," said Billy. The caretaker sighed deeply. 

"Right.. So the question is what you do with all those girls… How you're able to destroy them…" said the caretaker lowly but with a hint of annoyance. 

"I don't know. Can you take off the handcuffs now?" Billy said beggingly and his tone made me turn and look in through the doorway. I could just see his naked legs and feet. Everything passed the middle of his thigh, was covered by the caretaker's body while he stood in front of him. The caretaker laughed unamused and shook his head. 

"If I could I would let you rot in this bed. Someone should do an exorcism on you instead of just drugging you…" 

I swallowed hard and tightened my fist in front of me so hard my nails wounded me. Was Billy a rapist? Did he have a sexual deviation? Nymphomania? Or was he actually in contact with the devil? 

I had never believed in the devil but standing there, hearing a grown sane man talk about an exorcism I didn't know what to believe. 

"Can you just release me now? I'm really hungry." 

I looked at the caretaker's back while he unlocked the handcuffs and then I moved to the side of the door, afraid that I would be seen eavesdropping or seeing Billy naked again. 

"Dress and change sheets before breakfast, bedwetter," Said the caretaker before he left the room. 

Luckily for me he didn't seem to notice me next to the doors opening and when he had left l looked into Billy's room again. He had put on the ward issued gray sweats and stood with his hands over his face. His shoulders bobbed as if he cried. 

"Bill… Billy? Are you okay?" He exhaled deeply and wiped his eyes before looking at me. His eyes were red with tears and I felt a mix of sadness and nervousness seeing him like that. There must be something wrong, a mistake. Billy was a happy, talented, smart man. He wasn't a maniac. 

"Yeah.. Yeah…" he said and smiled through the tears. "What's your name?" 

I smiled a little, forgetting where we were and just saw handsome Billy in front of me. He was so tall but had an ugly wound over one of his brows and down his cheekbone.

"Joan, but everyone calls me Joanie." 

"That's really pretty…" he smiled and started carefully taking away the sheets from the bed. 

"Do you need help?" I asked as I walked into the room. 

"Ehh…" Now he looked embarrassed and even got pink in the cheeks. He was so cute. "I laid in handcuffs here the whole day so I… I needed to urinate.." 

I smiled calmingly towards him. 

"I've cleaned worse things doing this job," I said and started to help him remove the sheets. He smiled big towards me and dragged a hand through his greasy hair. 

"Thank you," he said and looked me deep in the eyes. I blushed and shrugged. 

"I mean, Joanie?"

 I looked up at him again, deep in those big green eyes. 

"Thank you for treating me as a human."

××× 

When Billy went to the canteen to eat breakfast I stood frozen in the hallway with his dirty sheets. He had smiled beautifully at me and dragged a hand through his hair in that sexy way he did in the movies. It affected me so hard that I was stuck standing in the hallway with a stupid smile on my lips while I imagined myself riding in a muscle car with him through floral fields. 

"Joanie? Are you still here? I thought your shift ended an hour ago," said Annike and looked at me worriedly. 

"Oh, yeah…" I said with a dreamy tone. 

"Has something happened?" She laid her hand on my shoulder and looked at the sheets in my hands. 

"I'm just tired," I smiled a little. 

She nodded and released my shoulder. 

"I hope you tell me otherwise… Dr. Woods…" She started the sentence but then looked at me with a careful smile. 

"Just tell me then but if you want to you can come back here. When is your next shift?" I smiled big and imagined Billy's beautiful eyes in front of me. 

"Next week on Tuesday. 10 am to 7 pm." 

Annike nodded with a smile. 

"I will talk with Dr. Fredricks. It's really nice to have you here," she said and once again laid a hand on my shoulder. 

"Thank you, Mrs. Larsen." I smiled sincerely because it was actually nice working at the psychiatric ward. No stupid Doctors, no jealous girls and instead of boring patients with a broken leg or fever there was actually a Hollywood star here. A Hollywood star who smiled at me brightly and I had even got to see him naked. 

××× 

My mother stood in the kitchen when I got home. It was silly really, how she could get up at 5 am just to prepare what we would eat for dinner twelve hours later. That was my mother's picture of the perfect wife, the dream for a woman to be, the dream for a man to have. If she knew I dreamt about Los Angeles, short skirts and now, also, an actor's penis she would have been horrified. She even thought the image of me as a working woman was horrible, me becoming an actress was almost as bad as prostitution. 

"I'm going to bed…" I said without saying hello and walked with tired steps towards the stairs. My mom looked up at me and shook her head.

"I'll wake you up in a couple of hours, you must help me bake bread today." 

I closed my eyes and walked up the stairs just by memory. 

"The Dawson's are coming to dinner tomorrow," she continued and I whined loudly. My mom wanted me to meet their son, Jacob. She had shown me pictures of him and tried to impress me with the university courses he had taken. I asked as a joke what kinda car he had but that made my mother irritated for real. I was hopeless in her eyes and she wondered how I could become that way when my sister was such a good housewife. I wonder the same thing sometimes. Maybe it was my lack of friends or it was the movies I've watched but something in me believed there was something more than becoming a housewife like my mother. I was far too special to just have such a boring life. 

I laid down in bed when I had put on my nightgown and thought about Billy again. I wanted to give him something. A gift. And maybe a pink letter with splashes of my perfume. I giggled and rubbed my cheek against the pillow in embarrassment when I thought about giving him my flower. A picture of his steel bed in the ward flew by in my mind and I shook my head to myself. We would do it somewhere else. Maybe on that floral field after we had cruised through it with his shiny car. 

××× 

Do young, cool men really wear bowties 1961? 

Jacob Dawson did. A green plaid one that clashed with his blue striped suit. He looked like a little old man but my mom looked at him like he was the most charming boy.

For once I had done my hair in another style than a ponytail and it laid down over my chest with perfect bent tips. I felt pretty in my newest dress, a lime green dress with a shirt collar. It actually ended over my knee and I felt daring and like I had some spice. Jacob looked at me with big eyes while our parents spoke. I was far out of his league and just felt uncomfortable when he smiled at me. 

"What… What do you like to do? When you don't work at the hospital?" He asked carefully and wiped the sauce in the corner of his mouth on his jacket sleeve. Charming. 

I wanted to tell him the truth; Movies, Hollywood, music and fashion. But my mother hated all of those things and she sat and looked at me intensely.

"Oh, I read… I bake? And I take long walks." 

My mother looked pleased and everything except the baking was true. And the walks were often just a way for me to escape and pretend I wore high end fashion and flirted with millionaires. 

Jacob smiled at me and nodded. I didn't ask him back because I wasn't that interested but as most men he didn't seem to need a reason to talk about himself. 

He talked about books he had read, lectures he'd been to and also the course he had taken to become a good husband. He was such a snoozefest that if my dress hadn't been sitting so tight I would have fallen asleep. 

As a doctor's family we didn't have the luxury to ignore the phone while eating. My dad's job was way too important so when the phone rang my mother, as the perfect little housewife she was, walked to the phone to answer. The odds that it was to her was small but she wouldn't let my father do any unnecessary movement when he was home and now he also was in a deep conversation with Mr. Dawson about useless secretaries and stupid elevator staff. When my mom came into the dining room again she waited for my dad to look at her before talking. 

"It's Dr. Fredricks on the phone but…" she turned to me and I looked at them confused. "He wants to talk to Joanie." 

My dad looked at me then at my mom. 

"Well let her then?" He just said and then turned to Mr. Dawson again. I looked at my mother to get her approval too. She gave me a worried look but showed with her hand it was okay for me to leave the table and take the call. I didn't know if it was what I wanted. Mr. Fredricks was bad news and it didn't feel like he could say anything positive. On nervous legs I walked to the kitchen where the phone stood on a side table. 

"Yes, Dr. Fredricks?" I said politely and felt the nerves in my hand. 

"Hello… Lovely Joanie," said a smooth manly voice. Not at all as Dr. Fredricks. 

"Hello?" I said confused and looked around in the kitchen for an answer. The man laughed sweetly on the phone and exhaled deeply. 

"It's me, Billy… Skarsgard." 

"Billy??" I was surprised before I realized I probably should pretend like I was speaking with Dr. Fredricks.

"Yeah. I have some friends here that have helped me with some things… Do you want to take a ride? Now? Tell your parents that you have work and meet me at the parking lot on the north side of the hospital."

×

[somethinginworl]

Honestly I did have to draw Shadow Kirby to get a feel for what felt off about him to me since he isn't bad at all design wise. Skirby's hair, while cool looking, doesnt make much sense. The big clumps of hair on the sides look like a completely different texture than his bangs, which are straight. For Dark Meta Knight the sleeves, the coat, all that give more "Wizard on the back lines" feeling and not "swordsman about to stab you". Try to envision him fighting in his current gear. Touching on the neon green again it really doesn't fit him. Coupled with the plague doctor mask, it brings to mind things like radiation. I tried changing out the green with the same Red from his hat and it both looked way better. I feel his hat that would be a distraction from what should be the main feature of his design (his mask), but it's neat enough.

Ok so lemme go in parts:

About SKirby's hair, I hope this doesn't sound like a cop-out but I kinda messed them up the sketch, it's supposed to look like this:

Which are inspired by bubble braids

Which now looking at it I realized that I messed up the bangs cuz they're still a bit curvy, good observation anon lol.

About DMK, yeah I do agree he does give off a wizard vibe instead of a Knight one. My plan was to kinda fuse Plague Doctor and Knight, but I fucked it up and it ended up wizard. He was supposed to look elegant and his sleeves were big to look like a sage of some kind, but mistakes happen along the way >.> I'll try to focus more on the dangerous vibes.

I got too caught up on SK's neon palette that I wanted to do one for DMK too (Which I still tend to do), so I thought the red would be too loud of a highlight so I went with green because I guess it gave me sickness vibes? Idk, but yeah I tested it on red and it does look better, might do a red/black palette.

The hat is mostly there cuz it looks Spanish and cool tbh.

Either way, thank you again for your input anon! I'll take it into consideration.

[whimperwoods]

Oswin - Fog and Vertigo

Part 9! Oswin Greystone is a wizard, a con man, and, now, a warlock’s pet. He needs to find a way out of it.

tw: pet whump, tw: non-sexual nudity (he’s technically in his underwear), tw: abuse, tw: abuse by a representative of the law, tw: fantasy cops, tw: threats, tw: mental fog, tw: panic attacks, tw: dizziness, tw: vertigo, tw: vomit mention, kind of nothing happens, but kind of something does

There’s a masterpost now!

Taglist:  @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi,  @starnight-whump

****

Oswin could barely believe his luck as his master’s booted feet retreated down the stairs. His jaw still ached faintly from the captain’s tight grip on it and he could hear that voice telling him, low and growling, exactly what would happen to him if he made a noise this time. He’d started shaking and he knew he’d never stop if he couldn’t get the images his master had painted back out of his head.

He waited, keeping his ears open and focusing on what he could hear in the hope that it might drive the thoughts away and settle his racing heart.

The sounds were the same as yesterday, the low hum of men talking and laughing downstairs with no idea he was here. It was hard to imagine why his master thought they would care, given how little they’d seemed to care about him when he was in their dungeon instead of their attic, but that was another thought that didn’t help.

He focused on breathing. He’d been left collared, but with his mouth uncovered. That, at least, he could live with. For now, he could live with that, and for now he needed not to think about what it meant to be able to live with it. He could calm down. He would calm down.

When he felt confident that the man wouldn’t return any time soon, he rose hesitantly to his feet, biting back a curse as straightening his battered knees sent pain shooting through him.

He felt weak and wobbly, but standing at all had been beyond him not so long ago, so he let himself stand still and breathe and wait for the uncertainty to pass, holding his arms out for balance like a toddler. Gods, what was he? How had he been one thing three days ago and become another so fast?

Stumbling over to his master’s desk was more instinct than strategy. It was solid, heavy, and the right height to help him keep upright. Once he was there, though, there was plenty to catch his eye. He moved some papers off of a map of the city, labeled with a set of symbols he couldn’t make heads or tails out of.

Swaying on his feet, he started rifling through the papers instead, and then the drawers, hoping for anything that jumped out as useful. He could tell he wasn’t thinking straight, that the fear and pain were clouding over his mind, but he forced himself to focus. If nothing else, he would focus his eyes on the pages. If nothing else, he would read the words enough times to know what they were about, generally. If nothing else, he would decide if the things were useful.

It was all slow, too slow, painfully slow, and he couldn’t stand for that long, sinking into his master’s chair almost without noticing.

He barely heard his master’s feet on the steps before the man arrived, and even with the spike of terror that hit him, his mind was too slow to react, and he had time to fling himself from the chair and onto the floor, but not the time to fix the papers that scattered with him.

“Wizard,” his master barked, the anger in his voice making Oswin curl up into himself on the ground. “Were you going through my things?”

Oswin’s mouth went dry, and the fog in his brain rose up to silence him, his mind too muffled to answer.

As his master’s booted feet came closer, it was all he could do to stammer out the truth - “Yes!”

The feet stopped, and Oswin didn’t have the courage to look up.

“What did you say?” the man asked, an edge of danger in his voice.

“Yes, master,” Oswin said, his voice so soft it almost gave out.

“And did I give you permission to go through my things?”

“No, master.”

Blank. Empty. Howling. Why wasn’t his brain more useful? Why couldn’t he think? Oswin realized he was breathing fast, too fast, fast enough to make his empty, foggy head start spinning on its axis. He pressed his forehead to the floor, hard, in the hope that it might stop the spinning.

His master’s feet were moving again, but even if he’d been fast enough to think of running, he couldn’t have known which way was away. He gasped for air, losing himself to the way the world reeled around him.

The quiet thud of his master’s knees landing on the floor beside him made Oswin flinch away, even as he struggled to make sense of it. A huge hand wrapped around the back of his neck, squeezing in a vague threat he felt more than he understood.

He looked up into his master’s eyes, unable to keep his own locked into the cold brown ones that seemed to spin along with the rest of the world, dizzying and impossible.

All of a sudden, his master released the back of his neck and felt his forehead instead.

“You’re not feverish,” he said, “Pull yourself together.”

The shove that sent Oswin sprawling was almost gentle, compared to most of what had come before it, and Oswin laid his head back down on the floor, trying to find words around his panting breaths. “Th-thank you, master.”

“The next time you touch something that isn’t yours without permission, I’ll crush your fingers under my boot.”

Oswin nodded, the motion making the vertigo worse. His chest hurt. Had his master done something to make his chest hurt? But no, that was him. His lungs. His heart. He felt like he’d messed up a lightning spell, like the energy running though him was too much, too fast, too dangerous.

The toe of his master’s boot pushed his chin away from his chest, and Oswin forced himself to look up at the man again, even as everything in front of his eyes continued to whirl.

“If you can look at things for yourself, you can look at them for me. Stand up.”

No. No, that wasn’t possible. For a moment Oswin didn’t move, but then his master’s face shifted, darkening, and Oswin fought his way through the spinning of the world and figured out how to move.

The floor was definitely down. The floor was down. He rolled onto his hands an knees, which meant his hands and knees were down and his head and back were up. He felt his stomach twist, but the good thing about not having eaten since yesterday was that there was nothing in there to rebel against the pain that still spiked with every twist of his back or the spinning of the world.

When he leaned back, onto just his knees, the spinning got worse, and he had to close his eyes.

His master grunted, displeased. “I said stand, pet.”

Oswin couldn’t nod. Couldn’t speak. He knew which way was which, as long as he didn’t think too hard about the spinning, as long as he didn’t try to look. He struggled to his feet, swaying as soon as he was upright.

His knees didn’t feel any better this time, but what was more pressing was that he could feel the world swinging around him, even with his eyes closed. He half-crouched, trying to give himself a wider base to keep from falling over.

Then his master’s hand was on his chin again, pulling Oswin’s face to tilt up towards his own. “Open your eyes.”

Oswin did, looking straight into those cold eyes, and even as he continued to feel everything whirl, whirl, whirl without stopping, his master’s eyes stayed perfectly steady.

Oswin reached up and grabbed his master’s forearm, moving on instinct before he could think about what he was doing.

“P-please Sir,” No. Wrong. Oswin took in a deep, shuddering breath and tried again, “Please, Master, make it stop!”

His voice sounded afraid, even more than he expected. Even more than he felt, because even the fear seemed blurry beneath the vertigo, like that too was wheeling around him at top speed.

His master sighed. His brow softened, the anger fading. The Captain’s eyes were still cold, still mean, but he was less dangerous now, had to be less dangerous when he wasn’t angry. Oswin started tearing up, his legs still shaking and his grip on his master’s arm still desperate.

His master’s other hand cupped his cheek, moving his face more gently this time.

“Make what stop, wizard? What have you done to yourself?”

“The spinning, master,” Oswin answered quietly. “Everything is spinning.”

The Captain scoffed, letting go of Oswin’s face with a little shove that, disoriented as he was, meant Oswin could only stay upright by closing his eyes again and clinging more tightly to the man’s arm.

“Lie down,” his master said, sounding vaguely disgusted. “You’ll look at things for me later. Get some rest.” He muttered something under his breath that Oswin only half-heard. Whatever it was, it wasn’t good.

It was a relief to let go of his master’s arm, as much as it made him feel unmoored in the time it took him to get carefully from his feet to the ground.

Everything still spun, but the pressure of the ground against his side was reassuring, more reassuring than being balanced on his feet.

“I’m going to leave some bread,” his master sad, “Don’t eat it until the spinning stops. If you vomit, I’ll make you lick it up.”

Oswin couldn’t bear to think of either the promise or the threat. Instead, he focused on the darkness inside his eyelids and tried, again, to get ahold of himself. His master’s footsteps sounded impossibly regular, descending the stairs, but when they were gone the world seemed even more impossible, somehow.

Everything was still spinning when he fell asleep, too exhausted for even the sense that he was about to fall to keep his frazzled nerves from giving out.

[eyeballtank]

Guess i still got more OC related ideas, so i lied again.

But let's see what they are instead of updating the main OC post:

Thought that Bonka's birthday might as well be April 1st but in Brinkaedea, nobody sees it as "April Fools" day.

Maybe Linda's main design might be a "theater stage play female warrior" one instead of the jester design.

With Holmes and Marlon, i could develop their relationship a bit where there's a "third actor" between them and it'd be a mysterious figure (Was thinking of Corto Maltese, Rasputin and the monk from that series as one bit of inspiration).

The character Reptile could have a large shuriken/"blade boomerang" like weapon that could serve as a bouncy projectile and to add some absurdity to the setting.

Because i'm copying Punisher Max, i thought of a moment where Booker forces some cop guy to dig his own grave, who even tells Booker that he could help him find who killed his family; Then the guy just accepts his fate after digging deep enough and Booker blows his brains out with a shotgun.

Some new location being a weird castle in a white cloudly/foggy area and the bridge has like pillars/entrance things that are black and with golden decorations.

New character 1: Upper half of an orange colored female robot where almost everything about her is orange but she has like black/brown hair and a blue cap hat?

Char 2: Like a cartoony "ghost" dog where the head is white and has color splatter spots (Yellow, blue, green, purple) and the body is like a "sheet" thing (Almost like Zero from The Nightmare Before Christmas).

Char 3: A similar "ghostly" figure but there's a skull attached to a part of the "sheet" (And the skull is upside down and hanging while missing a lower jaw/row of teeth).

Char 4: Some weird fleshy monster with a tube coming out of its mouth and it's like a wall sized creature.

Char 5: A female soldier with a bald head and she has some tattoo on her head (Not sure if it's inspired by something from Warhammer).

Char 6: A short anthro pig character who's a cartoony soldier with a mask covering hs head but still has the pig nose on said mask and the eyes are "animated" (Like a mix of Porky Pig from Looney Tunes and that one guy from Ralph Bakshi's Wizards with the gas mask that accidently killed his friend).

Also, said midget pig soldier had a crush on the bald chick (They came from a dream i had lol).

Once thought of a character called "Maggot" and still thought of using that name somewhere, because the one that originally had it is now "Fragile".

Might make a guy called "Phineas Abe" as pat of the "Krimb-Stone" setting, like a mobster with an Irish accent.

Anyway, with Nortubel, i thought of showing off characters outside the setting through optional levels and do it like this:

Bonka, Leon and Holmes show up in easy-to-find levels where you get to interact with some characters and explore parts of their settings.

Kalub, B-Man, Uulga and Booker get to be the "harder secret" characters whose levels are a bit more difficult and their settings are not as explorable maybe.

This is because the 3 characters above are in "E/T rated areas" while the other 4 are in "M rated areas".

If i'm lucky, i could even have other characters from certain settings show up as NPC's or in some story moments, but for other characters they show up in their memories/flashbacks or mentions.

(Even if this sounds like a bloated version of when an MCU movie has a "reveal" for an upcoming movie or something).

I also said i wouldn't show more OC art because "i need to develop them ingame first" but i think people would be more interested IF i show them being developed alongside their games being made.

(And see my art hopefully progress alongside my game dev skills).

Though Booker is a character that might have his main game a bit after other characters.

I might need some more time to figure him out, but i want to keep most of what i thought for him (Because i don't want to regret thinking out stuff, even from a severe case of "ideas guy syndrom").

At the very least, these characters will push my "range" in certain areas.

[vaderman212]

Year End Game Reviews 2022 #2

Game – Frog Detective 2: The Case of the Invisible Wizard (2019, Windows/MacOS)

Date I Beat It – February 7th, 2022

Background – Same as Frog Detective 1 more or less. Only now people in-game have heard Lobster Cop solved the mystery of the haunted island from the last game, so you’re kinda miffed about that.

Gameplay – Much the same as the last game in the series, Frog Detective 2: The Case of the Invisible Wizard, you wander around a small village in this case, and they really upgraded everything in this one. THEY ADDED AN ECONOMY. There are coins in the game you can use to actually buy things at the shop in town. (There’s even a fun game breaking “bug” where you can spend your finite number of coins on something that causes the creator to actually step in and give you the coins back so you can get the plot sensitive item that leads to one of the more creative achievements, but I won’t tell you how to get it.)

Also, there’s pies hidden around the game for you to find. They’re part of a quest. Fun times.

Visuals – Much the same as the last game, only instead of being on an island, you’re in a village who the inhabitants swear has an invisible wizard in it. Or at least they thing there’s an invisible wizard in it. I mean, after all, the house they supposedly live in was empty, and now it’s not.

Sound – Again, the smooth, detective jazz is here in full force and is still a wonderful addition to the experience.

Story – The chief (who if I remember correctly is portrayed exclusively as a voice on the phone) says the village’s mayor has called and asked for you specifically despite Lobster Cop seemingly getting all the credit for the last case you solved, just because there was a lobster dancing around in the dance competition doesn’t mean Lobster Cop solved the case! Geez! How many times do we have to tell you? Anyway, this game is a little spookier than the last game and I think it plays into the setting well. The inhabitants are funny, some of them know everyone’s business, some of them know nothing about anyone, it’s just like real life.

Multiplayer – Again, no multiplayer to speak of.

Other Information – The game has two endings, one where you choose option A, and one where you choose option B. The game only autosaves, so after you make a choice, you have to more or less speedrun the game to get back to the choice just to see what you’re missing, and you’ll want to since it’s such a uniquely funny time.

Oh, and the game ends with a Marvel MCU style stinger saying “Frog Detective will return in Frog Detective 3: Corruption at Cowboy County” which released October 26th, 2022, so I really couldn’t have picked a better time to get into the franchise.

Overall – It’s again, also $5 and for that $5 I got about an hour of playtime including the second playthrough I sped through to get the other ending. Completely worth the price if you’re using it as a buffer between huge games and want a simple, fun little break.

[rivers-rambles21]

The one with the flipping

Part 10 of The one where Bucky has a cute neigbour series!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader (f)

Summary | Reader and Bucky become friends after he saves her from  a creep in their apartment building. Each chapter explores a different point in their friendship - very slow burn!

Warnings | 18+ only, Smut in later chapters (this is a slow burn), swearing, unprotected sex, oral sex, (later chapters)

We’re starting to see more from The Falcon and The Winter Soldier - there are some bits taken from the show to help shape the story.

We’ll also be seeing Y/N & Bucky texting whilst he’s away

Chapter 10 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 1 | Masterlist

It didn’t feel right with Bucky away. Although he’d only been gone for just over a day you felt the void he left. Over the past few months you’d become inseparable, seeing each other every day - whether it be hitting the gym together, cooking or just hanging out.

After coming home from yet another terrible day at work, you wanted nothing more than to open a bottle of wine and binge watch TV with Bucky who was undoubtedly now your best friend. 

You were two glasses in when you heard a banging outside your apartment door. 

Stepping out into the hallway you were greeted with two cops hammering away on Bucky’s door, nearly breaking it clean off. “Excuse me, can I help you?” 

Both officers quickly spun on the spot and reached for their guns, stopping when they saw you were on your own. “Do you know the man who lives here?” 

“Yes, do you?”

“Ma’am do you know where he is?” 

“No I don’t” You lied, not trusting the two men infront of you. 

One of their radios suddenly turned on “-he’s is now in custody in Baltimore” 

Both cops nodded to one another before turning back to you. “Nevermind ma’am” 

You watched as they left as quickly as they arrived before running back into your apartment, grabbing your phone and frantically calling Bucky. You tried a few more times before stuffing your wallet into your purse and heading for the door. 

Fortunately you managed to catch a last minute flight to Baltimore after confirming with the police precinct they were holding him in . You hadn’t thought twice about going to him, your heart ached at the thought of him being confined to a cell, trapping him like an animal. 

After paying the cab driver your fare, you sprinted into the precinct heading straight for the desk. 

“Hi, you’re holding my friend Bucky -  I mean James Barnes.” You panted, tired from the sprint to the officer behind the desk.

“Who the hell are you?” 

Turning around, you came face to face with someone you instantly recognised. “Falcon” You grinned, a little bit star struck at meeting an actual Avenger. 

Sure Bucky was one too but to you he wasn’t some superhero on the evening news who fought aliens and terrorists, he was just Bucky - your friend who stole your food and listened to your never ending rants. 

Realising you hadn’t answered his question, you continued. “I’m Y/N, a friend of Bucky’s.” You extended your hand out to him which he shook. 

“Sam” He replied, releasing your hand from his. 

“The one who believes wizards are real” You joked, trying to remove the tension. 

“I’ll tell you the same thing I told the cyborg, a wizard is a sorcerer without a hat!”

“Uhuh” You laughed, rolling your eyes. “Have they said when they’ll let him out yet?” 

Sam gestured you to the seating area and sat down. “Once his therapist arrives they’ll let him out.” You sat in comfortable silence for a few moments as the busy precinct bustled around you, cops and civilians passing through constantly. 

Sam was the first to break the silence. 

“Do you want to watch a funny video?”

The first time you watched the video of Bucky jumping out of the plane you were worried sick he’d hurt himself with his terrible landing. But by the fifth time watching it you’d found it hysterical as you laughed along with Sam as you watched the video over and over again from different angles to kill the time. 

Reluctantly, you left the waiting area and headed to the restroom to relieve yourself. When you came back you were stumped to find Sam wasn’t where you’d left him. 

“Excuse me, do you know where the man that was sat there went?” You asked the officer behind the desk. 

“Therapy session” She replied, pointing towards the double doors before returning back to furiously typing on her computer. 

“Thanks” You muttered before returning back to your seat, patiently waiting. 

You didn’t have to wait for long before Sam came back with an annoyed look etched across his face. “He’ll be out in a minute” he said as he passed by you, heading for the exit. 

With a sigh of relief you stood from your seat and adjusted your clothing as you watched the door with eager eyes. 

The moment you saw him through the small windows you felt all the stress and anxiety of the day seep out of you as you saw he was relatively okay. 

Bucky must have been distracted as he didn’t notice you standing in front of him until his eyes landed on you, his mouth hanging open in shock. 

“Hey Buck” 

“Doll what are you doing here?” He asked as he strode over to you, pulling you into him in a tight hug, your face pressed against his warm chest. Your arms wound around his back, pulling him in closer, his scent overwhelming your senses. He left a kiss upon your head before pulling back slightly to look down at you, searching for answers. 

“Cops came to your apartment looking for you, and then I heard they’d got you and I just panicked. Are you okay?” Reaching up, you cupped his face in your hand, your thumb stroking his soft cheek. 

His eyes fluttered closed for a moment before he opened them again, suddenly aware of where you were. 

“C’mon lets get out of here.” Taking your hand in his, he led you out of the station and into the fresh evening air. 

A shiver ran down your spine as the cold air hit your bare arms. In your rush to go after Bucky you’d foolishly foregone a jacket. 

Instantly noticing your discomfort, Bucky dropped your hand and shrugged his jacket off and wrapped it around your shoulders, the leather swamping your form. 

“Thanks” You said shyly, Bucky merely smiled back at you in response. 

“Well I feel better” Sam’s voice broke you out of the moment as he walked up to you both. Bucky opened his mouth to respond before being interrupted by the sound of a siren and flashing lights.

“Gentlemen!” You recognised the voice from the news - the Captain America knock off. “Good to see you again.” 

You felt Bucky's hand slide down your arm to grasp your hand once again as he walked towards the imposter, angling you behind him. 

“Look, if we divide ourselves, we don’t stand a chance, you guys know that.” 

“So what do you got?” Sam asked, rolling his eyes. 

“Well the leaders name’s Karli Morgenthau. We’ve been targeting civilians who’ve been helping Karli move from place to place.”

“They geotagged a location then scrambled the signal. But our satellites have found their symbol popping up in various displaced communities all across Central and Eastern Europe.”

“We think she’s taking the medicine she just stole to one of these camps.” 

“Well, there are hundreds of those all over the planet since The Blip so I guess you’ll have to look real hard.” If it wasn’t for present company you’d have rolled your eyes at Bucky’s sarcasm.

“Good thing I have 20/20 vision, huh?”

“Where is she now, Walker? Do you know?” 

“No we don’t know Bucky. It’s only a matter of time before we find out”  

“Things are really intense for you, aren’t they Walker” Your lips twitched as you fought off a smirk.

“Take it easy. Look Walker’s right. It is imperative that we find them and stop them. But you guys have rules of engagement and all kinds of authorisations you have to get. We’re free agents. We’re more flexible. So it wouldn’t make sense for us to work with you.” 

You all turned to walk away, Bucky squeezing your hand as you did before fake Captain America stopped you in your tracks. “A word of advice then… stay the hell out of my way.” The two men turned and began to walk before Walker stopped again. “Nice to finally meet you Y/N” 

You felt Bucky tense as he turned back to the two men, his eyes glaring at them. Gently, you squeezed his hand and tugged his arm, pulling him back towards Sam, not bothering to respond to dumb and dumber. Looking down at you, he sighed before complying. 

With one last glance behind, you raised your hand as though to wave before smirking and flipping them both off instead - earning a chuckle from Sam.

A few blocks later, Sam hung back to give you and Bucky a moment alone. 

“I can’t believe you came for me doll” Bucky couldn’t keep his hands off you, he kept switching from rubbing your arms to keep you warm and tucking pieces of hair behind your ears. After the day he’d had you was a welcome sight, reminding him that not everything in his life was terrible. 

“Of course I did” You replied, confused as to why he would even doubt it. “I’d do anything for you.” Your confession came as a shock to both of you. You weren’t quite sure as to why you voiced your feelings, maybe it was the day of stress finally getting to you, or the realisation what Bucky and Sam was up to was dangerous and you feared losing him. But regardless of your reasoning, you didn’t regret saying it. 

Bucky's breath hitched as his blue eyes searched yours, looking for the moment where you’d crack a smile and make a joke out of it. But that didn’t happen. 

Gently, Bucky leant forward and pressed his lips against your forehead, lingering for a moment before pulling back. “I don’t want you getting caught up in this doll.” His right hand cradled the back of your head as his eyes sought yours, trying to memorise every part of your face, committing it to memory. 

“I’ll stay out of it, I promise. I just couldn’t bear the thought of you caged up again-” Your voice had become erratic as you processed the days events. Bucky pulled you into another hug, silencing you as he did, his metal hand rubbing up and down your back. 

“I’ll be fine y’know that right? But I have to stop these people Y/N, the serum can’t end up in the wrong hands. I need you to trust me, to trust I know what I’m doing.” 

You merely nodded in response, too caught up in the feeling of being in his arms. 

Bucky pulled away from the hug and stroked your cheek, wiping away the tears you hadn’t realised had fallen. “Cmon, where’s that smile?” 

You couldn’t resist his boyish charm and smiled back at him, although weakly. 

“Attagirl”

__________________

If you’d like to be added to the tag list let me know!

 @xpurpleglitter​

[daydream-believin]

What About the Smaller Picture (3)

Summary: Merlin knows best. And what he feels is best for you and Douxie right now is to sit around and wait for him to come back from New Jersey, Merlin-knows-when. (3) You’ve adjusted to Arcadian life pretty well. (1) or (4)

Warnings: Swearing, sleep problems?

Word count: 2474

A/n:  sorry this wasnt out sooner I’ve had a week

The curtains were blue. They had a little pattern of navy and white flowers and curvy lines like pottery painted with indigo. You had moved one of Doux’s bookshelves to be the second wall to allow the curtain rod to even be in place. This layout effectively created a nook of sorts around your little bed. To be frank the curtains weren’t absolutely necessary. The space kinda gave you university dorm vibes with the two twin beds across from each other. But there was no way you were letting this guy you barely knew watch you sleep. Even if you were good friends, you wouldn’t let him watch you sleep. That kind of vulnerability was special, reserved for only those closest to you.

Speaking of closeness, Douxie had been very adamant about you not calling him by his full name anymore. Made him feel like you were reprimanding him, he said. You could relate to the feeling, and so you were now being careful to replace all ‘Hisirdoux’s with ‘Douxie’s in your head. Or at least a ‘Doux’. Not ‘Babe’. Who told you that. You definitely never referred to him as Babe in your mind. Nope. That Is Not Something Friends Do.

“And,” Douxie rubbed the back of his neck, “Normally when people call me Hisirdoux nowadays it’s because they want to kill me. Only strangers and enemies call me that. Or Zoe when she’s pissed. So yeah, just Douxie is fine.”

“Just Douxie?”

He chuckled, “Yeah.” You looked up at him with a smile.

“Douxie.” He flushed, nodding. “Well, Douxie, what do you want for dinner tonight.”

That little nook you’d built hadn’t stopped Douxie from trying to talk to you all night, however. You’d think the curtains would be a clear message of don’t talk to me I want to be left alone but Doux hadn’t really taken that hint. You tried your best to brush him off the first few nights, even pretending to fall asleep. It didn’t stop him. By the fourth night you spent in Arcadia, you gave in. You had trouble sleeping anyways, as it was apparent so did your roommate, so might as well indulge him. It’s not like ignoring him did any good. Instead of staring at a blue-light screen that messed with your circadian rhythm, you talked about nonsense with Doux. And it was good nonsense. He was way too funny. Or maybe it’s that thing where if you’re into someone then everything they say is hilarious. You’ll never know. But it was nice, either way.

The funny thing was that not only did you actually start to like this, but now it was becoming hard to sleep without it. He helped. Your whole life you stayed up late, and then tossed and turned all night anyways. Now your bedtime routine was talk to Douxie for a few hours, slowly falling asleep, and then you’d sleep the whole night through like a baby. No more restlessness. No more waking up over and over again. Even if you did, you could just listen to him snore for a bit and fall right back to sleep. You guessed it was the feeling of safety he provided. Like someone was watching over you, even when you were at your most vulnerable. You’d never really had that luxury before.

 You had started noticing the trouble coming back when he would stay out late sometimes. And Douxie was gone one night and you suddenly couldn’t sleep at all. This was bad. A problem, if you will. But no matter. There were more pressing things to worry about.

Like the fact that all week, Douxie had been hinting that he had something you two were going to do soon. He would not tell you what it was. In fact he was taking quite a bit of joy in dangling this “surprise” in front of your face but not telling you anything about it. It was driving you a little crazy. You hoped what he had planned was nothing too wild, though. It’s not that you weren’t down, you were just tired. But you could use a little shaking up. This bookshop existence was boring. You weren’t boring. You had enough crazy stories to last an immortal lifetime from growing up in New Jersey. Not just modern-day Urban New Jersey. Early colonial Quaker-dominated New Jersey was wild too. Especially as one of those infamous New England witches. Maybe Douxie was taking you on some magic errand. That would be great, you were dying to do something actually in your job description ever since you got here. Not that working in the bookshop wasn’t nice, it just wasn’t magic. You were craving magic.

But alas, as the sun was setting and the last patrons left the store, life moved on as mundanely usual. You flipped over the sign, scratched a sunbeam bathing Archie behind the ears, and started the process of re-shelving all the damn books that customers left strown about. The sunset turned the bookshop pink. There were fewer cars rushing by. Now that there were no customers, it was very peaceful. Just you, Archie’s snoring, and the soft lute music playing. The music was lute covers of popular songs, and at this point you were pretty sure it was Douxie himself who recorded this shit.

Speaking of Douxie, you hadn’t seen him all day. It had made working the bookshop extra extra boring. Like if he wanted you to be free labor, he could at least give you the decency of his lovely presence. But no, it was just you, all day long. All by your lonesome, with nary a cute theater-kid adjacent wizard to keep you entertained with his company. It was a travesty really. But anyways, where was he. Better not be having fun without you.

You like to think your thoughts summoned him. He came in through the back door, panting, disheveled. Singed? He frantically looked out the door’s window into the alleyway from which he had just came from, looking for something. Whatever it was, he must have seen it, since he looked panic-stricken. In a painfully obvious attempt to swallow the fear, he turned to you, trying his best to sound nonchalant.

“SO. You know that thing? The surprise? Well. It is here a little sooner than I expected it to bE—” A loud crashing noise came from the alleyway. “Oh, fuzzbuckets.”

You dropped the book in your hand. “WHAT DID YOU DO.”

There was another very loud crash, this time closer. Douxie glanced back for less than a moment before rushing over to you, taking you hand.

“I’ll just have to tell you on the way love, come on!”

You two fled out the front door of the shop like your tails were on fire. Speaking of tails on fire, once you rounded the shop to the alleyway, you found out just what Douxie had been running from that was making such loud noises. Hellheetis. Five large hellheetis. Blazing bright in the Arcadian dusk. How the neighbors haven’t already called the cops or the fire department was a mystery. The large lion-like creatures growled, stalking down the alley. It was only a matter of seconds before they smelled and or spotted you and went back into the chase. You had to make a plan and fast. Distracting you from your thoughts, Douxie nervously laughed beside you.

“hehe, uh, could you believe there was only one of these at the start?”

You slowly turned to the wizard, “Did you,, hit them, Hisirdoux?” You could call him that now because you were in fact pissed off at the moment.

“Only twice.”

“Only twice… Okay”

“I may not be the best at monster identification. Or remembering which tactic to use for which.”

“I can see that.” You tried to keep your voice as calm as you could, which got a little easier to do as the hellheetis turned down a different alleyway, putting some more distance between them and you. They were still searching though, that was apparent. Thankfully the stench of the alley trash was keeping you covered.

“Believe me, Archie gets onto me about this all the time.”

“It’s okay… just. I think I have a plan. But one of us has to be bait. And it’s going to be you.”

“That’s fair.”

You sprinted up the stairs of the bookstore and up through the ceiling hatch onto the rooftop. You first instinct was to get them to the center of the square, where you could use the fountain as a water source. The alley they had started going down opened up to the square anyhow. It would have been a straight shot. But dear Mr. Casperan made a fuss about that being too out in the open or whatever.

Next solution. The bookstore’s rooftop had a facet, Douxie told you. You’d like to imagine it was put there so some nice old lady could have had a sweet rooftop garden without too much hassle. Maybe you should start a sweet rooftop garden. You and Douxie could have a little oasis in the city up here. You could grow veggies and flowers for your table. Maybe make a cute little picnic area. Stargaze at night. The facet. You quickly found it and made work of turning it on. Or at least you tried your best. You could hear roaring, getting louder, getting closer. The scary growls and roars were punctuated by Douxie’s frantic footsteps, grunts, and gasps. Please don’t get eaten, Douxie.

The facet was so rusty, it took all of your strength to get it to budge. And then nothing came out really, the hose attached to it lifeless without so much as a trickle. You tried to unscrew it from the facet to see if there was a problem and the metal part of the hose disintegrated in your hand. Okay. No water was in fact coming out of that facet.

Imaginary sirens rang in your ears. You had to get water, fast, or your partner was gonna be kit & kadouxle. Hellheeti chow. Growl mix. Douxies. Fiery feast. The big cats were gonna eat him okay. After managing to get the facet turned as fast as you could, fueled on pure adrenaline, and still getting little to no water, you made a judgement call of fuck that. Magic time. To be completely frank here that should have been what you had done in the fucking first place, but hey, fear dulls the mind.

Gathering up as much water as you could, like, metaphorically feel in the pipe, you pulled that shit out with all your might. Aaaannddd because of this you may have not actually remembered that you would need to catch said water in order to, you know, use it. Instead of a nice bubble to be used at your discretion, a magic roof-water tidal wave washed over you and over the side of the building into the alley below. Thank your lucky fucking stars that Douxie just so happened to have gotten the fire felines to the right spot in time. The uncontrollable rain rushed down, dissipating the hellheetis, soaking Douxie darling, and flooding not only your alley but all the alleys connected to it. Holy shit, stop it! STOP IT! It took a second, but you did finally get the river to stop pouring out of your rooftop. Fingers crossed there were no basement windows open and all your neighbors had flood insurance. And that no one saw. Can’t be connected to you if no one saw right. Shhhhhh.

You peered over the ledge to see if Douxie was alright down below. He looked like a cat caught in the rain himself. You probably did too. Douxie’s soaked bangs covered his eyes. Nevertheless, he was able to see you up on the ledge and gave you a thumbs up. You awkwardly returned it.

Toweling off your hair, and now in nice dry pajamas, you walked out of the bathroom to join Douxie on the couch. His own hair towel hung around his shoulders. You took a moment to enjoy how cute he looked all ready for bed, cozy in the blankets on the couch. And that semi-wet hair was looking pretty nice too. You only allowed yourself to linger on this for that moment however, as you remembered you were supposed to be mad at him right now. You crossed your arms as you approached the wizard.

“SO, dearest Hisirdoux, may I have the decency of getting to ask the question, WHY.”

“Funny story really.”

“Really?” You raised a brow

“Really.”

Douxie fidgeted with his hands. You watched this little nervous gesture intently as you sat down next to him. He took a deep breath before beginning,

“First thing. You’ve been here for some time now, and I thought it was enough time for me to start sharing my little, er, excursions with you,” Douxie’s face flushed a little, “I like monster hunting, and now that I know that I like you, I thought I’d like it more if I brought you along with me?”

Your face was flushed a little too now. “Hey, stop it, I need to be mad at you.” Yeah well the smile you wore gave up any pretense of that. Sorry.

“I didn’t know how familiar you were with monsters or how skilled at fighting you were, so I decided to go get some test monsters from Mervin the Monster Dealer, just to make sure our first time would be safe. FIRST TIME MONSTER HUNTING TOGETHER.”

You stifled a chuckle. “And you didn’t just ask me?”

“It was supposed to be a cool surprise okay.” He buried his face in his hands.

“… Hellheetis?” Safe monster your ass.

“Yes, I mean no, I- Mervin sold me the wrong thing alright. I thought I was buying those cute little fire sprite things you can easily just put out with your boot.”

This time you did not hold back that laughter. And you laughed, and Douxie laughed, and soon both of you were uncontrollably cackling until you were out of breath. Archie came in to see what the commotion was about and then promptly turned back around to go back to his spot in the window. You clutched your chest, still cracking up despite the lack of oxygen. Douxie wiped some tears from his eyes you were sure hoping were just from laughing too hard. You rubbed a hand on his back.

“So, I think I’ve had enough excitement for one day. How bout movie night?”

Douxie’s tired eyes smiled at you, “Yeah, I think that would be lovely.”

“Hey, I had a good first monster hunt, Douxie. Thank you,” You pulled your cold feet up under your legs, “But could you stop hogging the blankets!”

[capsironunderoos]

Does This Mean We’re on a Quest?

Barley Lightfoot X Elf!Reader

Summary: The reader is home from college for fall break, and she finds herself in the back of Guinevere, hiding under a bean bag...

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: None!

Author’s Note: I honestly can’t believe I wrote this but here we are! I haven’t decided if I want to kiss Barley or be his best friend, so until I figure this out here’s this little tidbit that was highly requested. Hope you enjoy! If you do, and you wanna see these characters more, don’t hesitate to ask or shoot some ideas my way!

Masterlist

This was not how you expected your fall break to go. 

Your plans were to come home to New Mushroomton for the break, see family, catch up with old friends, and maybe have a chance to play Quests of Yore with Barley. 

Nowhere on that list had you included hiding under a bean bag in the back of Guinevere, trying not to squirm when being sat on, and definitely trying not to scream at the speed you were currently going. 

You could hear Ian yelling, followed by smaller voices yelling back, and occasionally the sound of a horn and tires squealing. 

Maybe being under the bean bag wasn’t such a bad place to be right now.

A hard jerk of the van sent you colliding with the wall, and the breath was knocked out of your lungs. 

Forget it, under the bean bag was definitely not the place to be right now. 

You’d for sure have a few dark blue bruises whenever all this was over. 

You could hear the boys screaming over something, but you were focused with covering up your sneaker clad foot, which had come out from under the bean bag and hit something across from you when the van had hit a bump a few moments ago. 

Ian and Barley are still screaming at each other, and you’re frantically trying to pull your body back under the bean bag when you hear the click of the back van doors open. 

Your heart stops. 

Now, not only do you have to keep yourself concealed, but you’ve got to make sure you stay in the van. You risk sticking your hand out and grabbing onto something in the wall, and whatever it is, it does it’s job and keeps you in place as the van bucks with each bump in the road. 

You hear the boys have stopped arguing, but the noise of their screaming is replaced with something much worse; police sirens. 

You try not to groan out loud. 

Why did you ever think listening to Ian was a good idea? In what realm is hiding in the back of your best friend’s van, under a bean bag no less, to surprise him a good idea? 

Guinevere comes to a halt and you notice someone stepping out of the back of the van at the same time someone leaves the front. 

Once you hear both doors snap securely shut, you risk sitting up and taking a deep breath of air that doesn’t smell like cheese puffs, the plastic covering of the bean bag, and the carpet Barley probably found in his attic. 

You try to listen to the conversation outside, but all you can hear is Officer Colt, who you were pretty sure was not with the boys when they left. 

Great, you think, if he’s the cop that pulled us over we’re all done for. 

You listen again, this time hearing two female voices. You’ve yet to hear Barley and Ian speak at all, but it’s not like you can get out and further assess the situation. 

As far as you can tell, you’re the only one that knows you’re here, and you don’t plan on changing that anytime soon. 

After a few more moments, you hear footsteps getting closer to the van and you scramble to cover yourself back up with the bean bag. 

One of the boys stomps beside you as if he’s never seen the inside of the van before and then literally falls onto the bean bag, and you have to place your hand over your mouth to keep from screaming at the weight sitting against your chest. 

The van door slams shut as the front one opens, and you still hear what sounds like Officer Colt stepping into the front seat. 

The conversation ends quickly and the door slams shut before Guinevere gallops into movement again, the speed slowly picking up but not enough to summon anymore unwanted cops. 

The van is eerily quiet now, and you can hear the boys mumbling to each other. 

The weight on top of you shifts and stands, and you let out the smallest gasp of relief. It’s hard to relish in the moment though as the music is turned up to eleven and you feel the van jerk again and come to a screeching halt. 

It’s thrown into park and the doors creak open, both boys getting out but leaving them ajar as they do. 

You assume they’re arguing again, and you can’t help but roll your eyes. 

You also can’t help but be mad at the fact that they left the doors open so you can’t move to get comfortable again. That and the music is so loud you’ll never hear them coming back to the van anyways, even if you did want to risk moving around. 

A few more seconds of deafening rock pass by before you feel the van moving, shaking. 

You furrow your eyebrows, wondering if one of those nasty unicorns had decided to chew on the tires, hoping they don’t make their way into the van and decide the dark green bean bag looks like their next five course meal. 

All you can do is focus on staying still and keeping quiet, but your train of thought is interrupted when you feel something tapping the bean bag. 

You try to shift without notice and have to bite down on your tongue to keep from cursing when your foot slips out. 

You freeze, not sure if you’ve been found out or if you’re still safe. 

The tapping against the top of your sneaker proves otherwise. 

You gulp down the inevitable embarrassment and peek out from behind the bean bag, surprised to see neither of the boys, but instead a man wearing khakis and… a hoodie? With sunglasses? 

The tapping on your foot intensifies and you look down to see it’s his foot. It pushes up against your shin, as if urging you to stand up. 

It clicks then that he was probably what you hit earlier when your foot slipped out the first time, but he hadn’t sold you out, so that was a plus. 

“Um, sir, you see I’m not really supposed to be here so I can’t really stand up right now, but if you’d keep watch for me and let me know when they come back that’d be great.” 

You quickly explain, hoping Ian and Barley are so engrossed in whatever argument they’re having that they don’t hear you trying to talk over the music. 

After your explanation, you begin to shrink back under the bean bag, but the man begins almost pulling you out from under it. 

“No please I’m embarrassed enough don’t do this to me, sir. I’m on fall break and I just wanted to surprise Barley and now I have no clue what’s going on and I have to pee and I haven’t eaten in like, twelve hours-“ 

“(Y/N)?” 

At the sound of your name, you freeze, not even daring to look outside. 

The man seems satisfied with his help in your discovery, and he makes his way onto the ground beside the van, starting to dance terribly to the music still streaming from the speakers. 

“I’d recognize those sneakers anywhere.” 

You slowly glance down and quietly curse yourself for wearing the shoes you’d been drawing on in class since high school. 

Barley’s name on the right toe seems to smirk up at you now. 

You slowly stand up, pushing the bean bag to the side and wringing your hands together as you turn to face the boys and step onto the ground. 

“Oh man, I forgot! You’ve been in there the whole time?” Ian asks, rubbing his hand on his forehead. 

You nod slowly. 

“Wait, what?” Barley yelps, a hint of amusement in his words. 

“Surprise,” you say shakily, waving your hands at your side in mini-jazz hand formation. 

Barley laughs as he runs over to you, engulfing you in a hug and lifting you off the ground, spinning you around. You can’t help but smile at his actions, and despite the world spinning, when Barley sets you down you’re laughing with him. 

“You mean you’ve been hiding under that bean bag since we left?” He asks and you nod. 

“Unfortunately. Serves me right for listening to a Lightfoot.” You gesture to Ian and he rubs the back of his neck now. 

“Yeah, sorry about that.” You shrug. 

“Just means you owe me.” 

He groans, skulking off to be with the man from earlier, who’s still dancing.

Terribly, you might add. 

“Oh yeah, man do I have a story to tell you.” 

Barley starts, and the sparkle in his eye makes your heart skip a beat. 

It’d been so long since you’d seen him, you’d forgotten how catching his personality was. 

He could light up a room the second he walked into it, and he was never afraid to be himself. You envied him for that, wishing that you had even half the amount of confidence he did. He told you repeatedly that you had it in you, but that was normally followed by his advice of going on a quest to unleash it. 

“Well Barley, you know how I love your stories.” 

He nods, excited, before pulling you into a hug again. When he pulls away, he holds you at arms length, shaking his head, smile still big as ever. 

“I can’t believe it. You hid under a bean bag!” 

You roll your eyes, smile on your lips to mimic his. 

“Are you gonna tell me the story or not Lightfoot?” 

He laughs and turns you to look at Ian. 

“My brother… is a wizard!” 

At the sound of him being referenced in the conversation, not to mention Barley yelling the word “wizard,” Ian sheepishly turns to face where you two are standing. 

He grabs the man who sold you out and lifts his top half, and your eyes widen when, instead of blue skin, similar to yours and Barley’s and Ian’s, you see blue light. 

You make your way over to him, almost in a trance, and you can’t stop yourself from reaching out and waving your hand over the blue twinkling light emitting from this strange mans waist. 

“It’s our dad. We can bring him back for one day with a visitation spell but we broke our Phoenix gem so we have to go find a new one.” 

Ian rushes out and places the top half of his dad back on his waist. 

You think about the information you’ve just been told before the lightbulb clicks on. 

You turn to Barley standing behind you, a smirk growing on your lips. 

“Does this mean we’re on a quest?” 

You ask, and you think you hear Ian groan behind you. 

As the rock music still pouring out of Guinevere swells to a crest, Barley grins, and brings his hand into a fist in front of his chest, almost in triumph. 

“It most certainly does, your powerfulness!”

[stonecoldjerseyfox]

Jersey on my mind (part 39)

“Okay, so… what’s the plan?” Mila looks at Daryl, while pulling the knitted cardigan over her shoulders. “You gonna interrogate him? Tie him up in a chair and go good cop bad cop on him?”

Daryl meets her eyes from the other side of the bed. 

“What, ya’ don’t think he’s gonna have to answer some questions?” He asks, while searching the floor for his shirt. 

The morning sun shines in through the windows in the bedroom and it looks like it’s gonna be another fine day.

Mila dozed off as soon as she laid down in bed next to Juri the night before; after she had a quick but violent shower to get rid of dirty gas station toilet-cooties, and didn’t wake up to Daryl coming to bed or to Jesus strolling into the house in the middle of the night. Baffled to say the least, Mila was therefore greatly surprised when she came out of the bedroom this morning, fifteen minutes prior around eight, and met Jesus who came out of the upstairs toilet.

“Good morning!” He said happily and disappeared down the stairs.

Mila, unable to speak, just gaped and waved back at him lazily, whereupon she closed the bedroom door again and turned to Daryl, who was in the process of turning his sleeveless shirt inside out.  

“Am I still sleeping or did Jesus just walk out of the bathroom?”

“Prolly.” Daryl said with a shrug. 

“Is he just-” Mila paused to find the right words, pointing at the closed bedroom door. “You know, walking around-”

“He escaped.”

“Oh.”  

How he’d freed himself from the townhouse basement no one could figure out, and he didn’t tell them either; Mila was sure they’d captured a wizard.

“I don’t get why everything has to be so hostile.”

“Ya’ gonna teach me ‘bout hostile?” Daryl raises his eyebrows at her.

“Okay fine-” Mila sputters, knowing very well what he refers to. “But this guy isn’t like that- that weird wolf guy. This guy is Houdini-weird, not dangerous.”

“Are ya’ some sort of expert now?”  

“Gut feeling.” Mila replies.

Daryl shakes his head at her words. Mila realizes that it doesn’t sound that convincing, but she gives him a steadfast look; she’s sure about her gut feeling. She looks at Daryl while he buttons the shirt. He must’ve taken a shower too before he went to bed. The brown hair looks tousled, as if he went to bed with it still damp. Her gaze wanders down to the unbuttoned, washed out jeans; he wears boxers underneath for once, something he probably started to do for the first time ever when he realized that there would be a snoring three and a half-year old in the bed too. Mila bites her lip as she rests her gaze at the edge of the boxers, right above his pelvic bone. Her sudden rush of desire, or blunt frantic horniness, is obviously visible, because Daryl frowns at her.

“Ain’t doin’ it in front of the kid.” He nods down at the bed, where Juri still lies asleep, bundled up in the sheets.

“We can put him on the bath rug in the bathroom.” Mila suggests half hearted. “It’s really soft. He’ll just think he’d sleepwalked.”

“Jersey-” Daryl walks around the bed and stops in front of her; softly he lets his fingers run down her hair, playing with it while contemplating under silence. “Fine.”

“About the rug or that you gonna go gently on him?”

“The latter.” Daryl mutters. “Dunno why you care-” He rests his cupped hand at her chin. “I won’t knock him, unless he’s being a-”

“Ap-ap, language.” Mila pulls his hand big to her mouth and gives his fingertips a featherlight kiss. “Thank you.” She places another kiss on his fingers. “I like you when you’re all soft and diplomatic.”

The slightly erotic gesture of tenderness is enough to turn the big man in front of her into water between her fingers. His breath becomes heavier, he exhales through his nostrils and the eyes become soft and the gaze deeper, lingering even.  

“Uhu?”

“Mhm.” She leans in, places her head under his chin and kisses his collarbone, while fingering on the half buttoned shirt. “You know- I’m a good rider, like… really-”

A knock on the door drags them both back to reality.  

“Son of a- what?” Daryl turns and looks at the door that opens slightly and Rick peeks into the bedroom. “Don’t ya’ fucking know how a door works either?!” Daryl mutters huskily.

On the other side of Daryl, Mila chokes a grin. Rick looks questioning, but says nothing about Daryl’s, to him, odd remark; of course he knows how a door works?

“We need to talk.” He just says.

He doesn’t even tell them about what; they already know. Reluctant, Daryl sighs and looks at her.

“Duty calls.” He says, while, discreetly, correcting the crotch on his jeans. 

“Be gentle.” Mila winks.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Daryl leaves the bedroom and follows Rick; to talk to him and Michonne about what to do about the ‘situation’ walking around freely in the house. Mila sighs; so much for that ‘ride’. Not even a quiet quickie in the bathroom. She turns, combs her fingers through her hair and looks at Juri, lying on the bed with his back against her. The blonde hair looks like a bird’s nest, the only thing missing is a couple of spotted round eggs. What a fun job I have in front of me to untangle that bundle of mess, she thinks to herself and kneels down on the bed. Softly she strokes the boy over the back; the pyjamas are so warm and soft and he smells cosy, a warm, sleepy scent mixed with fabric softener. 

“Prosypaysya, solnyshko.” She coos softly, tickles his warm neck. “Wake up, sunshine.”

Juri starts to move, softly pats his feet towards the covers and rolls over, to face her. He blinks, squints a little with his piercing blue eyes at her.

“It’s time to awake.” Mila says.

With the newly awakened boy in her arms, she then walks down to the kitchen, where she’s met by Jesus, sitting at the kitchen island.

“I’m not gonna ask how you got out.” Mila greets him and puts Juri down on the sofa, to awake at his own pace.

She doesn’t really believe in magic, but growing up in Russia, surrounded by ancient stories and with a grandmother who said she was a psychic and was convinced that she had seen both Baba Yaga and a vodnik, Mila’s quite versed in folklore; no sane Russian child disowned Baba Yaga. 

“Slept well?” Jesus replies with a polite, even hearty smile. 

Mila, still slightly bitter about the black eye and the cracked, aching lip he caused her, doesn’t answer at first; instead she puts a kettle with water on the stove and scoops up two abundant spoons of instant coffee in two mugs; the chances of her being in a better mood after she had some coffee is quite high. She needs that first sip of coffee to function. She throws a glance out of the window; where’s Carol? Her eyes are then drawn to a mint green tin can with a pattern of daisies around the brim. Smiling, Mila lifts the lid and peeks inside. Of course, Carol, she thinks with a smile. White chocolate chip cookies. She and Juri must have baked them the day before. She puts the lid back on and turns to the two cups with instant coffee. She awakes from her thoughts -mostly revolving around how unearthly tasty a really fucking strong, big salty caramel latte would be, instead of this sad, colored liquid that nowadays has to go under the name ‘coffee’- when she hears the water bubbling on the stove. 

“I think the water’s done.”

Mila peers at Jesus.

“Yeah I got ears-” She replies surly. “And eyes.”

“Not a morning person?” He asks. 

“I’m not super happy with you.” Mila peers at him as she pours the hot water into the cups and takes out two spoons from a drawer. “No offence, Houdini, but you gave me a black eye.” She hands him one of the cups and stirs around the coffee powder in the water. Not exactly a caramel latte with two extra shots, she thinks and sighs. 

“Sorry about that.” Jesus says. “You’ve ever thought about a career in wrestling?”

“I'm good at running, shooting and drinking-” Mila takes a sip of the blant coffee. “I haven’t got the muscles.”

“I’d say the opposite.” Jesus drinks and makes a grimace; there’s a pretty valid reason why everyone says no when she offers them coffee. According to everyone in Alexandria it’s like drinking tar. “At least you got the spirit.”

“Okay-” Mila sighs. “How did you get out?”

“Magic.” The man in front of her smiles. 

Over at the couch, Juri has finally awakened fully. He climbs down and hurries over to the kitchen and demands to be held; awake or not, he’s always in desperate need to be close by, just in case he needs a cuddle. Mila lifts him from the floor and puts him down on the counter.

“Ready for breakfast?” She asks and Juri nods eagerly. “Let me just finnish my coffee.” Mila looks at Jesus. “You can’t possibly be named Jesus.” She asks and raises her eyebrow at him. “I mean, I get why-” She nods towards his face, the beard and the long hair. “But-”

“Paul.” He smiles, a genuinely kind smile, and offers her his hand over the kitchen island. “Paul Rovia.” 

Mila looks at it, before taking it and giving it a firm shake; like a car dealer who’s just managed to sell a poor fellow an overpriced car. 

“Mila.” She replies and nods at Juri. “My son, Juri.”

With a bright smile Juri waves at Paul from where he sits on the kitchen counter in his pyjamas; Paul’s face bursts into a happy grin. Juri’s sunny demeanor usually has that effect on people.

“Any last name?” He then asks. “Just- you know. Formality.”

“Sergeyevna.” Mila says, takes the tin jar from the other counter, opens it and offers him a cookie; there, now they have put down the hatchet. “So, what should I call you? Sorry, but Jesus-” She grimaces and shakes her head. “Feels odd.”

“Paul’s fine.” He smiles as he takes a cookie and once again looks at Juri. “You’re a lil’ charmer, aren’t you?”

Juri nods and makes the ‘I know that’ sign with his hand, which makes Mila grin. Of course he knows he is, she thinks and takes out the big pack of Quaker oats from a cabinet. She pours the oats at random into a pot, covers them with water and puts the pot on the stove. It will be enough for both her and Juri. She looks up from the pot just in time to see Juri’s small hand being pulled away from the tin jar.

“No.” Mila says, takes the jar and puts it back on the other counter. “You get a cookie after you have breakfast.” 

Juri nods reluctantly, then gestures ‘okay’. 

“He’s mute?” She hears Paul ask behind her.

“He is.” Mila turns around in search of the salt. “Don’t need a voice to be the most charming rascal in the apocalypse though.” She smiles at Juri and winks.

“Is he the father?” Paul asks. “You know- the big guy?”

“Daryl?” Mila shakes her head as her eyes land on the pack of salt. “No, I don’t know who Juri’s father is.” She shrugs a little. “A happy accident.” She pauses and puts a pinch of salt into the pot. “Daryl’s-” 

Yeah, what exactly is Daryl? Mila doesn’t have to think for long. Juri tugs at Paul’s coat sleeve and places his thumb against his forehead, with his fingers outstretched. 

“Have you told Daryl?” Mila smiles at Juri while she opens a drawer and takes out a wooden spoon to stir the oats.

Before Paul can ask what Juri meant by his gesturing, the front door opens and Glenn, Maggie and Abraham enter. Mila greets them with a ‘morning’ and Juri waves frantically at everyone. From the stairs, Rick, Michonne, Daryl and Carl appear.

“Nice talking to you.” Paul winks at her, gets off the bar stool and walks over to the dining table, where they all sit down, looking at Paul.

Mila turns her attention back to her and Juri’s breakfast in the pot. Juri stirs the wooden spoon as she gets honey out of another cupboard and the home made oat milk from the fridge. She listens with half an ear to the conversation at the table while she portions the steaming oatmeal into bowls, puts a spoonful of creamy honey on top and then puts the oat milk over it. She places Juri at the counter next to the window, he likes to look out at the trees and the birds, and then starts to feed him; one spoon for Juri, then one spoon for her. He doesn’t need to hear the grown-up talk and Mila’s too tired to care, well, except for when Rick asks Paul how he got out.

“One guard can't cover two exits, or third floor windows. Knots untie and locks get picked.” Paul replies. “Entropy comes from order, right?”

Mila grins to herself while taking another spoon; it hurts to chew. Apparently he trudged around a lot during the night, peeking at their arsenal, their storage. Juri eats with a big appetite and has soon finished his breakfast.

“Bravo.” Mila praises and scrapes the last of her oats from her bowl. “How about-” She puts the bowls into the sink and turns back to Juri. “You and I hang out today, all day? I need to repay you for not bringing back those marshmallows.”

Excited beyond measure, Juri starts to clap his small hands, which causes the group at the table to pause and turn to look at them. Mila puts her hands around Juri’s and hushes softly, resting her forehead against his. 

“It’s a date.” She whispers and gives Juri a kiss on the nose. “Now- hurry upstairs, pick some clothes and pour a bath, I’ll join you in a minute.”

Smiling brighter than a sky full of stars, Juri scurries over the hardwood floors and starts to climb up the stairs while the group around the table gets up. Glenn, Maggie and Abraham leave, Abe gives her a cheeky wink and a ‘lookin’ sharp, lady’, probably referring to her ravaged face. Daryl gives the big, red haired guy’s back a squinting, dark gaze as he disappears out the door. For some reason she feels flattered about the ‘Dixon jealousy’ today; maybe because she feels anything but appealing. A confidence boost. 

“So?” Mila asks. “What’s been said?”

“He says he’s part of a community.” Daryl replies, referring to Paul. “Raises livestock and crops.”

“Okay. And?” 

“His job’s to find other communities to trade with.”

“That’s it?” Mila asks, slightly disappointed; given his Ninja-skills she’d at least thought he was part of a special force or something. “Okay. What’d you say then? We don’t have anything to trade?”

He thinks we may be in a position to help each other. They got livestock. Grows things.” Daryl pauses. “We’re gonna go back with him. To his community. Hilltop. See if he’s tellin’ the truth. If he does, we’ll see what they’ve got to offer. He also said they’re trading with other groups.”

Mila raises her eyebrows.

“They have contact with other communities?”

“At least that’s what he claims.”

“You think he’s lying?”

Daryl shrugs; apparently he doesn’t know what he thinks about it. On one hand; another community is something they, he and Rick, have talked about for a while. There had to be more people like them out there, other communities with survivors, they knew it. They had expected, or hoped, to be the ones who discovered the other group, not the other way around. The tables have turned and now they’re vigilant. Even though he doesn’t say anything, Mila sees exactly what he’s thinking. The thought has struck her as well. What if Paul Rovia belongs to the group they saw looting the arms deal?

“Does ya’ gut feeling say something ‘bout that?” Daryl asks with a wryly, barely noticeable smile upon his lips - sometimes it seems like they really can read each other’s minds.

“Shut it.” Mila shoves him softly. “No. No, he might fit in at that Harry Potter-school though. How else did he get out of the basement than by magic? I’m not convinced what he said before was the truth.”

“Magic ain’t real, Jersey.”

“At this point, I’m ready to believe it is. Living dead walking around, magic-” Mila shivers throughout her body; it’s as if her dead grandmother was in the room, taunting her for not believing in her wacko stories about trolls and other foul creatures. “You leaving soon?”

“As soon as possible.” 

She nods. 

“Ya’ coming?”

“I’ll pass.” Mila replies. She’s had it with adventures that, more often recently, ends with her getting bruises for a few days. Besides, she wants to spend the day with Juri. “Carol and I hold the positions here.”

“Good.” Daryl lightly strokes her arm. “Where’s she by the way?”

“Out, I believe.” Mila smiles. “You’re cute when you’re worried.”

“I ain’t.”

“Worried or cute?” She gets a light buff in reply to her cheeky question. “Carol’s fine on her own.” Mila ensures her big, worried archer. “Are you going to prepare for the trip?”

“Nah, I’m ready.”

Mila smiles faintly. Had she been Daryl, she would probably at least have changed her shirt to one with sleeves. He notices her smile, frowns a little.

“What?”

“I like that shirt.” 

“Ya’ flirting now?” 

“Yeah.” Mila nods. “Might be because of the concussion.”

“Ya’ didn’t have one last night.” Daryl says doubtfully.

“No, you’re right. But I am actually flirting with you.”

With an entertaining, barely visible, smile, Daryl takes her chin between his thumb and forefinger; a gesture that says more than he does verbally.

“Jersey-”

Mila sighs; she may well suppress the tingling in her body for a few more hours.

“Fine.” Mila pushes Daryl towards the door. “Off you go. Discover new civilizations, Dr. Dixon.” She proclaims theatrically.

In response, she gets a teasing middle finger over the broad shoulder, before Daryl disappears out the front door. Mila turns just as Rick scurries down from the upper floor, holding Judith in his arms. 

“You’re stayin’ behind?” He asks.

Mila holds out her arms; as if to show that her outfit says the most about the matter.

“Okay.” Rick nods. “Good.” He’s just about to say something, but Mila interrupts him:

“I’ll watch Carl too. Promise.”

“I think he’s sneakin’ out.” Rick says, while letting Judith chew on his finger. “He and Enid-”

“-Are teenagers.” Mila shrugs while putting the two coffee cups into the sink. “Be glad Carl’s not doing the shit I did when I was a teen.” She walks around the kitchen island and gives Rick an encouraging pat on the arm. “We’ll be alright.” She smiles overly excited at Judith. “Yes we aaare!”

As Rick closes the front door, Michonne comes down the stairs. As soon as their eyes meet, Mila grins broadly; her missing Jesus trotting into the house in the middle of the night was nothing compared to the disappointment she felt when she learned that he had stormed into Rick’s bedroom, only to discover that Rick and Michonne were lying naked in bed. Michonne raises a warning finger at her.

“Don’t-” She alerts. “Not a word.”

“Ohh I have a lot of words I want to say about it.” Mila chuckles. “How about; finally!”

Michonne says nothing, just smiles. As if Mila didn’t realize before that there was ‘something’ going on. They don’t have time to say anything else on the matter; they are interrupted by Paul, who emerges from the toilet.

“Ready?” Michonne asks him. 

“Yup.” Paul looks over at Mila. “Hey- I’m really sorry about the blackeye.” He looks sincerely sorry. “We friends?”

“Hm, fine.” Mila gives him a sharp gaze. “But I want my grumpy archer back. So no funny business while you’re gone. Then we’re friends.”

Paul nods gravely; hopefully, he doesn’t dare to pull any ugly tricks after yesterday’s haywire ride. In addition, Mila offered him both coffee and cake earlier, so he owes her. She follows them out of the house, still wearing her sleepwear; yoga pants, t-shirt and the knitted cardigan, to the motorhome. Maggie stands by and watches the motorhome. The young woman looks worried, deep into her own thoughts.

“See it as a honeymoon.” Mila suggests with a smile at Maggie as she approaches. “Minus the fancy hotel, the rose petals...” She continues jokingly, in an attempt to cheer her up.

Maggie smiles a little, but there’s obviously something on her mind.

 “Things don’t really go by the book ‘round here.” She replies. “I’m scared, Mila.” The green eyes look worried. “The crops, the baby, other people-” She sighs. Apparently she’s been pondering a lot lately.

“Hey-” Mila grabs Maggie by the hand. “Stop it. We all got days when everything feels like shit.” And those days you spend in bed getting jagged, Mila thinks to herself; that’s at least what she does. “But it’s gonna be alright.” She smiles. “We have made it this far. You’ve made it this far. See it as an- an adventure. And tomorrow is another day.”

Although Mila herself finds it difficult to absorb her own clichéd words, they seem to instill hope in Maggie; somehow Mila thinks that booze works better in her case. 

“Wow, where did the motivational speaker come from?” Maggie smiles, squeezes her hand warmly. “Thanks.” She looks down on her bump. “You know I’ll need all the help I can possibly get when this one pops out, right?”

“Yeah I know.” Mila replies. “But we’re not there yet, thankfully.” She winks. “I have to sober up until then. Well, off you go, adventurer.”

They part, Maggie walks over to Glenn and they get inside the motorhome. Daryl shuts the small hood and brushes off oil from his hands on his jeans. Mila wraps her cardigan tighter around her; she’s still in her tank top and yoga pants, standing bare feet on the hard asphalt.  

“Ya’ sure you’ll be alright?” Daryl asks.

“I’ll be fine.” Mila ensures. Honestly, she thinks, there’s not much that can go wrong when hanging out with a three and a half-year old. “Be careful.” She says and places a quick kiss on his lips. “Don’t punch people.”

Daryl gruffs in reply.

“Let’s chew up some asphalt!” Abraham hollers behind him.

“See ya’.” Daryl places a quick kiss on her mouth, before getting into the motorhome and shutting the door.

Mila and Carl, holding Judith in his arms, watch as the engine of the motorhome starts and it rolls away along the road, before disappearing. 

“Do you think it's safe?” Carl looks at her. “This other place?”

“Honestly, I don’t know.” Mila replies, while letting Judith grab on to her fingers and play with them. “But I hope so.” She meets Carl’s eyes, smiles and caresses his thick, brown hair. “Come on, let’s get inside. Juri’s having a bath-” Mila smiles at the girl on Carl’s arm. “You wanna bath too?”

Happily, Judith giggles; no sane toddler says no to a bath with rubber duckies and lots of bubbles.  

It turns into a peaceful, playful morning. Juri and Judith bathe for probably an hour under Mila’s supervision; over and over she has to push the floating rubber ducks under the water, for them to jump out of the water again. Judith laughs to the point of her getting hiccups. With one toddler on each arm, drenched in bath water from head to toe, Mila carries them both downstairs.

“Ah, great!” She exclaims just as Carl and Enid walk into the house. “Keep an eye on these two as I get dressed, will you?”

Mila disappears up the stairs before she gets an answer. In the bedroom she removes her wet clothes and drops them on the bathroom floor. She quickly puts on a pair of jeans, glances at the long scar that runs along her stomach, before hiding it with a t-shirt. At least that’s easier to hide than the blackeye. She puts on a pair of socks, sticks her feet into a pair of Birkenstocks and hurries back downstairs. Carl and Enid sit on the carpet in the living room with Judith, still wrapped up in a lilac towel with flowers, while Juri runs around, naked, wearing his towel as a cape.

“Come here you!” Mila sweeps the naked toddler from the floor. “What have I said about being naked Batman?”

Silently giggling, Juri tells her that she’s wrong; he’s not Batman, he’s Spiderman.

“Well, first of all, Spidey doesn’t have a cape-” Mila presses her mouth into his soft belly and makes a loud farting noise, while Juri cries with laughter, silently. “Secondly-” Mila says, while lifting her head. “We gotta find you some clothes.”

“There’s some folded stuff in the laundry room.” Carl gets up from the floor and takes Judith in his arms.

They help out to sort the folded laundry while finding clothes for the toddlers. Mila’s heart swells when she observes Carl with Judith; he’s so much more grown up, so wise and kind, than she ever would have been able to at that age. He dresses Judith, who sits still on top of the washer and calmly lets herself get dressed. Juri on the other hand is in a rowdy mood. Carol returns, stained with blood, in time to see Mila chasing a laughing Juri, dressed in underwear, socks and shirt, around the ground floor; she carries a bucket in her hand, filled with acorns. She catches Juri with her free arm, like a hook, and hands him over to Mila, who can finally put him in a pair of trousers. 

“Thanks.” Mila sighs and brushes her hair out of her face when she has closed the button in the small pair of jeans. “I hope he’s not this cheeky when he’s with you.” She looks at the acorns while Carol assures her that Juri’s usually very angelic when they hang out together; it’s probably just an extra exciting day. Mila nods towards the bucket. “What are the, the-” The english word seems to have disappeared from her vocabulary. “those for?”

Carol looks down at the bucket. 

“You’d be surprised what you could do with acorns.” She smiles, mysteriously. 

“And the blood?”

“An unpleasant surprise.”

“Ah.” Mila nods understanding; a walker. “The others left a while ago.”

While Carol puts the bucket down in the kitchen, Mila tells her about Paul Rovia and the others, Rick, Michonne, Abraham, Daryl, Glenn and Maggie, leaving with him to go to Hilltop. Carol receives the news with calm, a trait Mila loves about her; by now not much seems to surprise her. As Carol disappears to take a shower and change clothes, Juri wonders what they should do first during their extra special fun-day. Mila suggests crafting; Juri loved crafting when he went to daycare and always brought home necklaces, drawings and scrapbooking cards to her. When she was looking for new sheets in the house that belonged to Jessie one day, she found a whole lot of craft materials in a cupboard; Jessie wouldn't need it anymore, so Mila took it. 

They spread the material over the dining table, Mila picks out Capri Sun as snacks and starts to make beaded necklaces and bracelets while Carol returns back after a while, and starts to bake more cookies with the acorns. Deeply concentrated, Juri methodically places pearl after pearl on the small wire, with his tongue between his teeth. He makes necklaces and bracelets for his ‘big brother’ Carl, ‘auntie Carol’, Mila gets a necklace and for Daryl Juri makes a bracelet and a little pendant to hang on his crossbow.

“That will be very nice.” Carol assures as Juri holds up the pendant for her to see, made with beads in all sorts of shapes and colors. “Daryl will be very happy.” She smiles. “I will wear my necklace every day from now on, sweetie.”

While the cookies are in the oven, Carol quickly sweeps up a vegetable soup for lunch. Just in time for lunch, Aaron pops in and joins Mila, Juri, Carol and Judith around the table to eat. Mila sits in-between Juri and Judith and has a full time job making sure Judith doesn't play with her food and tells Juri to stop making another bracelet, this time for Aaron.

“You can finish it after lunch.” Mila says, for the fourth time, before Juri listens, but by then he’s already done and stretches over the table to hand Aaron the bracelet.

“Thank you.” Aaron looks tenderly at the bracelet. “The nicest gift I’ve ever received.” His genuine expression of gratitude makes Juri blush behind his second package of Capri Sun. “I’d love to have kids on my own.” Aaron looks at Juri with glistening eyes. “They’re amazing.” He sighs. “But these times-” He shakes his head.

“You can borrow mine whenever you’d like.” Mila suggests while scooping up the soup in her spoon, pouring it down her still aching mouth. “Besides, you’re already uncle Aaron.”

Juri nods at Aaron at the other side of the table; he’s got a lot of uncles and aunts all of a sudden. But only one big brother, he assures them through his gestures.

“Yeah, there’s only one Carl.” Mila agrees.

Juri points at Judith.

“And only one Judith.” Mila nods. “And since you’re older than Judith, you get to show how to behave at the dining table. Like, you’re not supposed to make bracelets while eating.”

After lunch, Aaron thanks Carol for the lunch and heads off to the construction site, Carol clears the table from bowls and spoons and leaves to go and hand out the still steaming warm cookies to the Alexandria residents. Mila takes on the mission to put Judith to sleep, while Juri finishes off his second portion of vegetable soup at the table, now fully occupied with his walkman. It’s apparently completely impossible to sit and eat without amusement; on the one hand, Mila understands him. She herself likes to have a book or a newspaper with her at the dining table. Before the outbreak, when they lived in Brooklyn, she loved to eat in front of the TV when she was alone; channel surfing until she found a channel with a program about 'tanks in the first world war', 'ancient sharks eating ships' or 'grown men running around in the dark looking for ghosts'. 

Softly Mila sings the girl to sleep while stroking the soft, light brown hair. She sings a Russian lullaby from her childhood, the one her mother used to sing to her when she’d had a nightmare; a heartbreaking song about a dying child. In hindsight, Mila’s surprised she could even fall asleep at all after hearing that song, but the way her mother sang it as they lied next to each other in Mila’s bed, was like being swept in a blanket of protection, a safe embrace from the bad dreams. Then it didn’t matter that Vanya died and was buried the next day. Mila softly strokes the now sleeping girl over her cheek, smiles and leaves the room. 

“Wow, two whole rounds of soup!” Mila exclaims, as she returns to the dining room and Juri, proud beyond measures, shows her two short, tubby fingers. “Bozhe moy, I gotta find you new clothes soon, you’ll grow like a sprout-” She says as she helps him down from the chair. “So, nap or no nap?”

Juri shakes his head; no nap today. Instead he points at the kitchen island, where Carol’s left a couple of cookies on a plate. With the big cookie in a firm grip, Juri announces that he wants to have a dance party. He’s high on sugar from the Capri Sun and needs to let off some steam, pronto! Said and done, Mila runs upstairs, again, collects their dear collection of cassette tapes, runs downstairs and puts a cassette in the stereo in the living room. Having small children is a single gym workout; never a quiet moment. Juri wastes no time and starts to jump around to Van Halen’s “Dance the night away” with the cookie in his hand. Her heart overflows with love as Mila, smiling, watches as the little person moves around on the carpet, making his sporadic, spontaneous moves to the music. Sometimes he takes a bite out of the cookie.

Carl and Enid return just in time to see Juri make a pirouette to “Mr. Blue Sky”.

“Hey, great moves, dude!” Carl greets him. 

They sit down on the couch and watch Juri dance, while Mila sorts the crafting supplies; she has a feeling they’re done making bracelets by now. Activities shift quickly when you’re a child and as a mother, Mila is left to clean up. But when “Dance in the dark” comes on she can’t refrain from wanting to dance; yeez Louise, she loves this song. She lets herself be dragged out on the living room carpet by Juri and shakes her head, making her hair dance. 

“Dance with us Carl!” Mila pants mid air. “You too, Enid!”

Slightly frightened by the invitation, Enid shakes her head so the brown hair swings around her face. Carl on the other hand rises from the couch, widely smiling, and starts to dance with them. It’s fun, liberating; just dancing around, jumping, making silly moves, while singing their hearts out. 

“Come on!” Carl grabs Enid by the hands and pulls her up on the floor. “Don’t be such a bummer. Let loose!”

“I-” Enid looks anything but pumped.

“Live a little!” Mila encourages; she herself feels very much alive at least. Her heart is pounding and the pulse is at ‘moderately working’. It’s actually quite exhausting to dance. She’s a little impressed that she used to go to parties and dance almost every weekend back in university - in heels, moreover. She looks down at her socks and Birkenstocks. 

When the song fades out and the intro to KC & The Sunshine Band’s “Give it up” they hear a soft thud from the upper floor; Judith must’ve thrown her plushie on the floor.

“I’ll go get her.” Mila says. She lets Carl and Enid continue to dance with Juri, and runs up and gets the now awake, well rested little girl. With Judith locked on her hip she walks downstairs again. Judith points at Carl and starts to wiggle her arms, spits out the pacifier and starts to babble.

“You wanna dance too?” Mila asks, while bouncing Judith on her hip. “Come on, let’s dance.”

With a squealing Judith in her arms Mila sways to the music, hops around and swings the girl around the air. But Judith doesn’t get Mila’s full attention for long; Juri, unaccustomed to competition, soon wants her attention, he also wants to dance in her arms. With Judith on one arm and Juri on the other she moves over the carpet, while the two toddlers laugh excitedly by her, a grown up, acting incredibly funny.

Carol returns from her walk around the community in the middle of the chorus to [song], when Enid has returned to the couch and Carl makes an impressive attempt at a moonwalk.

“I disappear for a moment and poof; I come back to a disco.” She laughs.

“Gotta raise the roof around here.” Mila pants and twirls around with the two toddlers locked at her hips. “Right, malysh?” She gets support from Juri, who strikes a disco finger for Carol to marvel at. “But I would actually need a break now.”

The break is accompanied by “Twistin’ the night away” and more Capri Sun, taken on the couch. Carl playfully fans Judith with the wide-brimmed hat and Mila twists her hair in a sloppy ponytail and curses her poor cardio; it’s gotten pretty bad all of a sudden. That uncomfortable nausea she’s felt on and off the last week begins to creep in and she trembles at what Juri wants to do next. “Ya izmozhden.” Mila says when Juri tells her, with sugar rushed excitement, that he wants to dance more. “I’m exhausted. Mummy’s old.”

As if Juri was going to buy that excuse. He answers her firmly that she’s not old, but that they can go out and draw with the street crayons instead. Mila throws a glance out the window. It’s sunny, looks warm. “Fine.” She replies. “Let’s go, Picasso.”

While sitting on the hot asphalt, drawing with the chunky, chalky crayons Mila’s struck by a feeling she hasn’t felt in a long time; it all feels almost as before the virus. It’s been a very normal day. Just as when Mila had her day’s off from work. On those day’s Juri didn’t go to daycare; instead they did all sorts of fun stuff. They went to the park and occupied the swing sets until some irritated mother asked Mila if she would mind sharing with the other children. On the days Jim had a day off as well they went to coffee shops, had coffee and juice and tried different pastries and cookies. Other days they stayed at home playing, or Mila invited her friends (none of them had children of their own) over for lunch and to watch a day-movie with her and Juri. 

Soon Mila puts down her pastel blue crayon and lies down on the warm asphalt, while Juri continues with his masterpiece; this time a zoo with green tigers and yellow monkeys.

“Right now, life’s pretty nice, right?” She exhales and closes her eyes. In the distance she heard the light, barely noticeable, breeze sweeping through the nearby trees. A gentle, soothing sound that mixes up with the faint sound from the walkman, lying on the ground next to Juri. “Pretty, damn nice.”

[septembercfawkes]

[Edit: for some reason Tumblr is being weird with the original post, so this is me trying to fix it--sorry if you see this twice]

I do! Well, at least I can tell you what has been working for me--I hope it works for you too. . . or that it gives insight.

1 - Make sure to pick a theme that fits the story.

To some, this may sound obvious, but once in a while writers try to fit in a theme that doesn’t actually naturally fit into the story they want to tell, which can make it feel off and wooden in the text. It’s like a puzzle piece in the wrong puzzle box.

A lot of stories will actually naturally hint at a theme just in their premise. More on that here.

Some stories have more wiggle room, but since theme needs to come out of the story, not be forced on it, the contents of the story need to fit it.

2 - Utilize this Robert McKee exercise.

One of the problems with addressing theme, is that often teachers teach us the end result/conclusion of the theme, instead of all the other moving parts.

They teach us the thematic statement. But theme itself is broader. It explores a theme topic.

Thematic statement: Love conquers all.

Theme topic: Love

Once you have a topic, you can do this exercise that Robert McKee came up with (you can learn about it and how to do it here.)

Some of you may have seen my recent rendition of it for Songbirds and Snakes:

This will give you at least three other topics to play with. It may give you more, because more than one answer may fit each blank.

This may also bring up other secondary theme topics, as the opposite of “control” is also “freedom.” And another contrary of control and chaos is “trust” (these are both secondary themes in that book.)

If you want, you can then take secondary theme topics, and do this exercise again (the contradictory of trust is distrust, etc.) But I don’t want to get too complicated.

Now that you have four elements, you’ll look for ways to adequately and fairly illustrate and explore them in the story through the plot and characters.

In a sense, these topics are sort of in an argument or power struggle with each other--makes sure to include and look at gray situations. One of the most common problems I see is when the writer tries to portray everything as black and white (control is always the “best”), but life is more complex, so it falls flat because it doesn’t ring true.

When you come up with ideas for the story, or you are brainstorming, pull this out and look for ways to possibly touch on one or more of these subjects (that’s what helps me). It’s not always about telling and stating them--it’s most often about “showing” them to the audience.

So in one of my WIPs, the theme topic is authenticity. So this last week as I was revising a section, I looked for ways authenticity, fake, privacy, and being inauthentic within yourself, could be rendered in that section.

Before you come to a conclusion as to the “winner” of the power struggle, you need to “visit” with each opponent--if that makes sense. So you need to touch on each of these topics.

3 - Look at the Protagonist

*For some it may be helpful to do this before the exercise above.

Most protagonists will have a character arc--meaning they will grow and change by the end of the story.

But let me explain this another way. At the beginning of the story, the protagonist has a flaw, weakness, or misbelief about the world that is inaccurate. This will, in some sense, be the opposite of the thematic statement.

Some quick examples:

Zootopia: Officer Hopps believe the problems with bias is in everyone else, and so she’s going to prove them wrong by being the first bunny cop.

In reality, by the end, she grows and realizes she has her own biases she needs to address. The thematic statement is, in order to defeat bias, we have to start with the biases within ourselves.

Harry Potter: Harry starts unloved and powerless in a cupboard under the stairs. By the end, he learns he’s so loved, it can defeat the darkest wizard of the wizarding world. The thematic statement is, love is the most powerful force in the world, it conquers all.

You can learn more about this here.

So the protagonist starts with an inaccurate worldview, and through the story, that worldview is challenged and called into question. The character will be pushed to reconsider his or her beliefs, and will have to overcome a misbelief or flaw, to get to the true thematic statement.

Again, it’s critical that the story look at gray areas and situations, otherwise the transformation won’t ring true.

If the protagonist doesn’t arc (which is rarer), instead they will have their accurate worldview tested by the environment. It will be costly for the protagonist to adhere to this worldview because of the pressure put on by the environment to try to get them to change. By the end, the environment shifts its worldview to the correct thematic statement, not the character. (Legally Blonde is a good example of this).

Both approaches should be shown in the story, more than told to the audience.

And the true thematic statement should not be fully realized until the end of the story. The beginning should illustrate the inaccurate worldview/problem, the middle should challenge that and explore gray areas.

Also, you can learn a bit more on this here.

4. Look at Side Characters and Relationships

Just as the protagonist will touch on the theme topic, other key characters (usually those in a relationship with the protagonist) will as well. Look for interesting viewpoints and arguments the side characters can have about the theme topic.

In Hamilton, all the key characters touch on the theme topic of legacy: Hamilton, Burr, Eliza, Laurens & Hercules & Lafayette, and George Washington--but they each have a slightly different viewpoint or experience with legacy.

In Moana, each key character touches on personal identity: Everyone on the island says who they are right now and what they do every day on the island is who they are, period; Maui’s entire identity is built around what others think of him, he thinks who he is, is what others think he is; Tamatoa’s identity is based on his appearance, his shiny outside is who he is. Te Fiti has become a monster because her heart was stolen, so she no longer knows who she is. Moana’s grandma helps Moana see who she truly is.

Side characters and their stories and interactions often offer exaggerated, inverted, mirrored, or complex looks at the theme. These will often come into play in the middle of the story, illustrating that the theme topic is actually more complicated than the protagonist (or audience) first thought (therefore challenging and testing their views).

5. Look at the World and Society

Turning broader, in some stories it may be helpful to look at how the world or society touches on the theme topic.

For example, in Moana, Moana’s people have an inaccurate view of themselves, because Maui stole the heart of Te Fiti, which consequently led to them being stuck on an island. Therefore the only way to fix the problem is to restore the heart so Te Fiti remembers who she is, which leads to Moana’s people remembering who they are, which connects to their ancestors--another group of people.

How can what is happening in the society or world of the story illustrate the power struggle of the theme topic and its counterparts?

In Les Mis, the theme topic is mercy. Within the world and society, we see mercy and justice and everything in between play out within France itself. Whether that’s Fantine’s societal situation or the Master of the House, or the revolution, or the orphans on the streets.

6. Save the Best for Last

The true thematic statement should only be fully realized and fully illustrated by the hero at the end. The biggest mistake I see writers make, is they pick a thematic statement, then swing it around everywhere--beginning, middle, end and everything in between. It doesn’t work because life isn’t like that.

The thematic statement is the manifestation of wisdom.

True wisdom is only gained by learning to reconcile life’s complexities (a.k.a. the grays). This means in order to reach true wisdom, we need to fairly explore and consider the grays of life. Only after the protagonist struggles through the grays and complexities, will the thematic statement feel “earned” and “true.”

Only after Moana encounters everyone’s views of identity, is she able to come to the wisdom of what identity actually is--what her identity actually is.

This moment usually happens at the end of the middle or the beginning of the end--then, the protagonist will implement what’s been gained through the end. (Moana’s realization leads to her realization about Te Fiti, which sets everything right.) But I won’t get into structure too much.

7. Judge Not

It’s important not to “judge” or condemn your characters through most of the story. This will make the theme feel flat and preachy.

When we meet Maui and Tamatoa, the story doesn’t get preachy about how they are wrong. Instead, the story simply lets them do them. It doesn’t need to tell us they are wrong, because as natural consequences take place in the story, the narrative will illustrate that by the end.

Sure, the protagonist might pass judgement to an extent (Jean Valjean doesn’t like Javert in Les Mis), but it’s key to let the other characters simply play out their belief system. This relates to showing the theme, more than telling it.

When you start trying to condemn a character in a text too early, it shifts the tone and undercuts the power of the theme, because you aren’t exploring each aspect fairly.

Only at the end, after everything is fairly explored, can judgement (of some sort) be passed--and this is often shown more than told. (Generally speaking, as there are exceptions.)

For example, Javert can’t live with himself after Jean Valjean shows him mercy, so he takes his life. Obviously his belief system, which was fairly shown through the whole story, is wrong.

Voldemort, who shows no love, is boiled away by love into a wisp.

In the Lion King, whose theme is about fulfilling your proper place in the “Circle of Life,” shows hyenas attacking and killing Scar. Scar tried to upset the Circle of Life, and now something perhaps more unnatural happens to him--he’s being eaten by scavengers.

This works the other way too, as Simba is honored, restored, and accepted as true king.

Harry succeeds in defeating a dark wizard and is more loved and powerful by the end.

And Jean Valjean finds God’s grace in the afterlife.

But these are all more shown than told.

Telling is okay. You can say it straight out. As long as it’s shown more than told.

And it’s better not to condemn your characters when exploring them--let the consequences of their choices and the story’s outcome do that on their own.

There are a couple of other things I could talk about, but I think I’ll leave it at that.

I hope this helps--I know it doesn’t directly relate to getting word on the page. But when it comes to theme, it’s more important the content touches on it, than the actual sentences. I guess I would say, look at whatever you are writing and . . .

A) If it’s the beginning, consider how it can show a wrong or inaccurate worldview of the theme topic. Or, another way to approach this is to look at “black & white” views. In Les Mis, mercy and justice are black & white concepts in the beginning. Harry Potter? Harry is hated and despised, while his nephew is loved to a fault. In Hamilton, Hamilton’s white view of legacy is contrasted by Burr’s black view of it.

B) If it’s in the middle, consider how you can bring in other views and opinions and gray situations related to the topic(s). (Like I talked about above with Moana and Hamilton). This will most likely include side characters and their stories. It will probably challenge or at least complicate the protagonist’s view of the topic.

C) If it’s the end, consider what can play out to illustrate the true thematic statement. Those who believe it should usually find some sort of reward. Those who don’t will usually find some sort of defeat.

[sergeantsporks]

[deep, deep, deep, deep, sigh]

Mmmmmmkay. Not sure this is going to be a popular post. In fact, probably going to be pretty darn unpopular (making the bold assumption that anyone will see it and/or care). But I want to talk about the PROBLEMS in the Tales of Arcadia writing.

Now, Tales of Arcadia has some diddly darn good writing. I like it. A lot. And most of it is fantastic and beautiful and makes me cry. All of the character arcs are 👌. Buuuuuuuuuuut as a whole, as a multi-show story, I do find issues with the plot.

Honestly, first off, I'm not going to bring 3below into this because 3below is a bit disconnected from the rest of the series. Maybe that will change Rise of Titans, but in general, the protagonists and conflict in 3below doesn’t really intersect much with Trollhunters and Wizards. Sure, it’s in the same world, and the characters interact, but the 3below plot is only minimally connected to the Trollhunters plot, and aside from Wizards picking up where 3below left off and Krel showing up and helping with the Hisirdoux’s Eternal Time Trap, the two shows don’t intersect at all, so. Moving on.

First of all, Trollhunters. Morgana, specifically. I have... issues... with the ending. I really, really, really felt like Jim and Gunmar kind of got sidelined for Claire and Morgana respectively. Now, is this issue biased by my dislike of Claire in general? Oh, definitely, I’m not going to deny that it factors in quite a bit. But even that aside, we’re given this protagonist, Jim, and they spend 3 seasons building up this big scary troll villain named Gunmar, and how there’s going to be this invasion/eternal night thingamabob where Jim’s gonna have to face off against Gunmar and-- PSYCH! Gunmar goes out like a little punk and we flip over to the universal story constant of “if there are two girls on the battlefield, they absolutely must find each other and fight.” And okay, Morgana was built up, too. She was, it’s not like they threw her in last minute. But she was built up as the MASTERMIND, as a puppeteer in the shadows, and I don’t know, it just sort of felt like she kind of lost her place in the story and became just another endgame boss. And I 100% absolutely DESPISE the fact that Jim got sidelined for Claire. Angor Rot coming in and holding Morgana? Fantastic. Superb. Again, the character arcs in this show are great. And Jim even stabbed Morgana! It was a great fight! The protagonist overcame harrowing ordeals, stabbed the-- oh, wait. Nope. She’s not dead. Now, let’s just knock Jim out cold (albeit in a very in-character way, taking the hit for his friends) and hand the reins over to Claire, who finishes her off. And I just [sighs again] it felt a little forced? Especially since in Wizards, we re-hashed the exact same thing and just made Morgana turn good instead of killing her. I felt like Morgana was rushed in as a villain when more time should have been taken, especially if they were just going to resurrect her and do it all over in Wizards. The pacing could have been better, that’s what I’m saying.

Speaking of Wizards and Morgana. Let’s talk about Wizards and Morgana. Again, it felt like they just re-hashed the ending of Trollhunters into Wizards and changed up the ending. Now, I have no problem with Claire fighting Morgana IN GENERAL. It’s cool. However, that being said, in Trollhunters, Morgana was built up to be a puppeteer character, then became the main villain that was just a cool final boss, like I already said. And since we brought the whole fight back up in Wizards, I feel like a better alternative would have been to yes have Claire fight Morgana in Trollhunters! But for that to be the side fight and the main fight to be the fight we were originally promised of Gunmar vs. Jim. For Gunmar to get beaten in something a little more epic than “One down, one more to go!” and then for Morgana, locked in her fight with Claire and seeing that the battle is being lost, slip away into the shadows and live to fight another day. Leaves a bit of intrigue, and keeps her initially-established role as a voice in the shadows intact. Granted, this does raise problems later in Wizards as to what zombie Arthur wants and why the Arcane Order would need to destroy the amulet, but I’m sure they could find a way around it, like that Morgana’s power was severely weakened by creating the eternal night and they were unleashing more power. Instead of “Hey, I liked being dead, it was quiet” it could be more of a “without my powers, I realized the error of my ways.” There are ways to fix the issue, is all I’m saying. Plus, to leave Morgana as an unsolved, living mystery would make it even more of a big deal to see her in the past in Wizards-- instead of Claire being “Grrrrrr, Morgana, that person I killed once!” it would be “Grrrrrr, Morgana, that person who’s still at large and we never managed to defeat!” Just makes more sense for you to be mad at an enemy you have unfinished business with than one you already defeated pretty soundly.

[Deep inhale]

Okay, let’s talk about the large, stone, elephant in the room. Troll Jim and his transformation back. Pure, honest, unadulterated opinion, right off the bat? Felt like a cop-out. Now, I have to sit here and constantly remind myself “It’s a kid’s show, it’s a kid’s show, remember that it’s a kid’s show,” but I’m sorry, I like my permanent things to be a little more permanent. I liked the fact that the Airbenders remained extinct in Avatar and we didn’t [gasp!] discover more! during the show (that changed in Legend of Korra obviously, but we’re not going to get into my feelings on that). It felt a bit cheap when there was a secret colony of living Alteans in Voltron. I know, I know, it’s a kids’ show, sometimes you like a happy ending, especially when the kids’ show is Wizards and ends up getting incredibly dark (what with the amulet getting destroyed, Merlin dying, the whole Beast-Jim thing, THE PROTAGONIST STRAIGHT UP DYING, all of the emotional/psychological darkness of the Arthur and Morgana arc) through the course of it! Yay, little bit of feel-good, Jim’s not a troll anymore. That being said, again. We got told that troll Jim was PERMANENT. There was no way out of it. Apparently Claire didn’t find a way to change that through whatever gap there was between Trollhunters and Wizards. And then it got fixed, by, uhhhhhhhhh, oh. They didn’t explain what exactly fixed it. Besides I guess the [heavy sigh] *low grumbling* power of love. Felt like a cop-out, and it felt like it cheapened Jim’s sacrifice at the ending of Trollhunters for it to just *poof* fix! at the end through the power of Claire’s love. Now, granted, Jim went through the absolute wringer of first turning into a great big monster and then getting turned to stone, so sure, give the boy a break and some therapy but it still felt like a cop-out.

Okay, all this to say. I ranted for like, three paragraphs about... two issues. I COMPLIMENTED parts of the writing WHILE I WAS BASHING OTHER PARTS. That is pretty dang good, guys. Yes, I have a whole essay on why there is a PROBLEM in this WRITING, but seeing as I could only find TWO THINGS that I had a problem with? That’s some pretty solid writing. Granted, they were two pretty big things that I had essays on, and that’s not great. But hey, two big plot issues versus a multitude of plot holes? Hot dang. Not bad. So, yeah, the character arcs are all fantastically carried out, and the plots in general are sound with the Sporks seal of approval on everything but two points. Thanks for reading through, I know it was long. Feel free to tell me exactly why I’m wrong about this being bad writing. I’d love to see someone else’s opinion and/or someone making me feel better about these issues that I have.

[bookofmariokingofmaiami]

I decided to mess with the incorrect quote generator with 6 characters from book of mario king of kami and before I knew it I had a fuck ton of text so lets go

Also I like to hink these are cannon because it gives personalities to characters that apeared once or twice and gives insight on others

maria: Time for plan G.

bolivia : Don’t you mean plan B?

maria: No, we tried plan B a long time ago. I had to skip over plan C due to technical difficulties.

Hampton : What about plan D?

maria: Plan D was that desperate disguise attempt half an hour ago.

Barney one: What about plan E?

maria: I’m hoping not to use it. Belize dies in plan E.

Ptricio : I like plan E.

maria: Hewwo.

Bolivia : Hihiiiiii!

Hampton : Greetings, Humans.

Belize : Three kinds of people.

Barney one: I want pudding.

maria: Four kinds of people.

Ptricio : WHAT’S UP FUCKERS?

Belize : Five kinds of people.

maria: Who the fuck added me to a fucking group chat?

Bolivia : >:O language

Hampton : Yeah watch your fucking language

Barney one: OKAY WHO TAUGHT HAMPTON THE FUCK WORD?

Belize : 'The fuck word'.

Ptricio : Are you stupid? You guys use the f word all the time

Hampton : Oh my god they censored it

Belize : Say fuck, Ptricio .

Hampton : Do it, Ptricio . Say fuck.

maria: If you bite it and you die, it’s poisonous. If it bites you and you die, it’s venomous.

Bolivia : What if it bites me and it dies!?

Hampton : Then you’re poisonous. Jesus Christ, Bolivia , learn to listen.

Barney one: What if it bites itself and I die?

Belize : That’s voodoo.

Ptricio : What if it bites me and someone else dies?

Bolivia : That’s correlation, not causation.

Barney one: What if we bite each other, and neither of us die?

Belize : That’s kinky.

maria: Oh my God.

maria: You're a loose cannon, Bolivia .

Bolivia : No, I'm not. I'm a cannon maybe, but a loose cannon? Is that what you think of me?

Hampton : I think you play by your own rules.

Barney one: No way, they think rules were made to be broken.

maria: Those are all attributes of a loose cannon.

Bolivia : No, I'm just a reckless renegade. Belize is a loose cannon.

Belize : *smashes a chair*

maria: There are seven chairs and ten kids. What do you do?

Bolivia : Have everyone stand.

Hampton : Bring three more chairs!

Barney one: The most important ones can sit down.

Belize : Kill three.

maria: We’ve been conducting an ongoing study to see what Hampton will and will not eat.

Bolivia : Grass? Yes!

maria: Moss? Yes!!

Bolivia : Leaves? Ohh, yes!

maria: Shoelaces? Strange but true!

Bolivia : Worms? Sometimes!

maria: Rocks? Usually nah.

Bolivia : Twigs? Usually!

maria: Belize 's cooking? Inconclusive!

Barney one: How did you… test this?

maria: You just hand them stuff and say ‘eat this’ and if they eat it, they eat it.

Barney one: ... I don’t know how to feel about this.

Belize : IS THAT WHERE ALL MY SPARE SHOELACES WENT?

maria: What did you guys get in your yearbook?

Bolivia : 'Prettiest Smile'

Hampton : 'Nicest Personality'

Barney one: 'Most likely to start a bar fight'

Belize : 'Least likely to start a bar fight, but most likely to win one'

maria: Bridge the generation gap by combining old and new slang into one!

Bolivia : Tubular AF!

Hampton : Mood to the max!

Barney one, annoyed: Groovy, I hate it.

Belize , just as annoyed: If she breathes, she’s a square.

maria: What if the person who named Walkie Talkies named everything?

Bolivia : Pregnancy tests are Maybe Babies

Belize : Socks are Feetie Heaties

Barney one: Forks are Stabby Grabbies

Bolivia : Defibrillators are Heartie Starties

Belize : Nightmares are Dreamy Screamies

Barney one: Stamps are Lickie Stickies

Hampton , annoyed: You are disappointments

maria: Anyone d-

Bolivia : Depressed?

Hampton : Drained?

Barney one: Dumb?

Belize : Disliked?

maria: -done with their work... what is wrong with you people ...

maria: What does 'take out' mean?

Bolivia : Food.

Hampton : Dating

Barney one: Murder

Belize : IT CAN MEAN ALL THREE IF YOU'RE NOT A COWARD.

maria, trying to convince Belize to join the group: You know... I thought it'd be good to have someone come along who's really... strong!

Bolivia : And loud!

Hampton : And grumpy!

Barney one: And oblivious to reality!

Belize :

maria: That's it, we're gonna go out and find what we need!

Barney one: To the city?

maria: Yeah, no matter what!

Belize : Well- How exactly do you propose we do that, exactly?

maria: I... I don't know!

Bolivia : Oh come off it, be serious!

maria: I am serious!

Bolivia : You're insane!

Hampton : Why, if only we were all wiener dogs, our problems would be solved!

Everyone:

maria: What???

Hampton : Or maybe it was a basset hound!

Bolivia , panicked: YOU'RE ALL INSANE!

maria: Poison is a magic transmutation potion that turns people into corpses.

Bolivia : This knife is actually a magic wand.

Hampton : Meet me in the Denny’s parking lot for a wizard duel.

Barney one: *cocks gun* Magic missile.

Belize : What the fuck is wrong with you people.

maria: Why isn’t the statue smirking at me?

Bolivia : It isn’t smirking at anyone, they’re all just imagining it.

maria: Three of us saw it, Bolivia . How do you explain that?

Bolivia : *points at Hampton * Sleep deprivation. *points at Barney one* Paranoia. *points at Belize * Delusional personality disorder.

maria: Good morning.

Bolivia : Good morning.

Hampton : Good morning.

Barney one: You all sound like robots, try spicing it up a bit.

Belize : MORNING MOTHERFUCKERS

maria: We need more help. Maybe I should call my friends.

Bolivia : ... Your what?

maria: My friends.

Hampton : Are they saying “friends”?

Barney one: I think they're being sarcastic.

Belize : No, no, no, this is delirium, they've cracked from being awake all night. Hey, maria! All of your friends are in this room.

maria: I have other friends! You asked me to make new friends, I made new friends! It was a task. I complete tasks.

maria: On the count of three, what's your favorite cake? One, two, three-

maria and Bolivia , in unison: Chocolate cake peanut butter frosting with chocolate chunks!

Hampton : Our turn, Belize! One, two, three- vanilla!

Belize, deadpan: I've never had cake, what is cake.

maria: Yo is Belize sleeping or dead?

Bolivia : Hopefully dead, I hated their guts.

Hampton : Yeah, so did I.

Belize: Okay first of all, fuck you-

maria: Bolivia isn’t answering their phone

Hampton : I’ll call

maria: Belize and I have both tried six times each, what makes you thi-

Bolivia : Hello?

maria: Listen, I can explain...

Bolivia : You’re making $500,000 and you’re only gonna pay me $30,000?

Hampton : You’re getting 30 grand? I’m getting $1,000!

Belize: You guys are getting paid?

maria: You lying, cheating, piece of shit!

Bolivia : Oh yeah? You’re the idiot who thinks you can get away with everything you do. WELCOME TO THE REAL WORLD

maria: I’m leaving you, and I’M TAKING HAMPTON WITH ME

Belize, picking up the monopoly board: I think we’re gonna stop playing now.

maria: You know those things will kill you, right?

Bolivia , pouring another glass of whiskey: That’s the point.

Hampton , smoking a cigarette: We’re trying to speed up the process.

Belize: *Nods while eating raw cookie dough*

maria: Is stabbing someone immoral?

Bolivia : Not if they consent to it.

Hampton : Depends who you’re stabbing.

Belize: YES?!?

Cop: You’re receiving a ticket for having three people on one motorcycle.

maria: Shit.

Bolivia : Wait, three?

Cop: Yeah?

Hampton : OH MY GOD BELIZE FELL OFF!!!

maria: Dammit, Bolivia !

Bolivia : What?! It wasn’t me!

maria: Sorry, force of habit. Dammit, Hampton !

Hampton : Not me either.

maria: Oh...Then who set the house on fire?

Belize: *whistles*

maria: Hah! 69! You know what that means?

Bolivia : What?

Hampton : That you're a child.

Belize: HOW'D YOU GUESS MY IQ!?

*maria is cooking*

Bolivia : Any chance that’s for me?

maria: It’s for Belize. I’m planning on making some bad choices tonight, and I need them on my side.

Hampton : I never realized the forethought that went into being a disappointment.

maria: Tonight, one of you will betray us.

Bolivia : Is it me, maria?

maria: No, it’s not you.

Hampton : Is it me, maria?

maria: It’s not you either.

Belize: Is it me, maria?

maria:

maria, mockingly: Is IT mE maria?

maria: Truth or dare?

Bolivia : Dare

maria: I dare you to kiss the hottest person in the room

Bolivia : Hey Hampton

Hampton , blushing: Yeah?

Bolivia : Could you move? I’m trying to get to Belize

maria: On a scale from “damn Daniel” to “fre sha vaca do”, how are you feeling?

Bolivia : In between “it’s an avocado, thanks” and “how did you defeat Captain America”, but as a solid answer I would say “I don’t need a degree to be a clothing hanger”. How about you, Hampton ?

Hampton : Probably “road work ahead”.

Belize: I speak many languages, and this is none of them.

maria: Fitness tip: never stop pushing yourself. Some say 8 hours of sleep is enough. Why not keep going? Why not 9? Why not 10? Strive for greatness.

Bolivia : Next time you’re working out do 15 push ups instead of 10. Run 3 miles instead of 2. Eat a whole cake instead of just a slice. Burn your ex’s house down. You can do it. I believe in you.

Hampton : There were so many mixed messages in that I can’t-

maria: Hampton and I are having a baby.

Bolivia : That's gre-

maria, slamming adoption papers on the table: It's you, sign here.

maria: I told Bolivia their ears flush when they lie.

Belize: Why?

maria: Look.

maria: Hey Bolivia ! Do you love us?

Bolivia , covering their ears: No.

Belize:

maria: Don't worry, I got a plan.

Bolivia : Alright.

maria: TraitorSayWhat?

Belize: Excuse me?

maria: What?

Bolivia :

maria:

maria: No wait-

[whimperwoods]

Oswin - The Archdevil

Part 2 of a new series about Oswin Greystone, wizard con man and deeply unfortunate man.

So anyway, yeah, the captain of the guard wants a pet wizard. Things are not looking great for poor Oswin. They’re not looking great in his own series, now, because this is long enough to need a readmore. Let me know if you want to be on a taglist and I’ll start one. I’m not sure how much of this there will be, but he and his creepy captain really grabbed my imagination, so certainly there will be some more after this.

Continuation of this post.

tw: abuse, tw: abuse of authority, tw: fantasy police brutality (though he’s kind of stopped pretending to be acting as a cop at this point), tw: fantasy devil worship, tw: pet whump (working toward it anyway), tw: devil contracts

*****

Oswin’s legs couldn’t hold him, but the whip that had nearly killed him was back in the guard captain’s hand, so he kept dragging himself along beside him, crawling awkwardly forward on his good hand and his knees and nearly tangling himself up in the robes that, with the back sliced open, hung down in his way, barely attached to him anymore.

At the bottom of the steep, winding staircase, Oswin’s limbs were already quaking, and he let out a soft whimper that made his throat ache.

The captain moved around him and squatted down in front of his head, cupping his face in one hand. “First choice, pet. You’re going up two flights of stairs, up to my chambers over the main office. You may crawl, you may be dragged, or you may be carried. I spent too much on that healing potion to hope for dragging, but you’ll need to be a very good boy if I carry you.”

Oswin’s brain couldn’t catch up. This wasn’t right. None of this was right. This wasn’t how people talked. It wasn’t how people were. Except - wasn’t it? He’d been in the courts of petty, tyrannical lords before, on occasion. He’d watched men who could get away with it pinch serving women and belittle servants and - and perhaps that was what this man thought was happening. Perhaps he thought Oswin a servant, or likely to become one. And without Oswin’s books available to him, maybe he was right.

Oswin wanted to look down, to avert his eyes, but his time when he tried, the captain kept a steel grip on his chin, forcing him to meet his eyes. They were dark, a brown that tended toward gray, without any of the warmth of his own, and hard as stones. He swallowed heavily, the pain in his throat insignificant next to the pain still raging across his back, but still easily made worse.

It had been hard enough getting himself to the foot of the stairs, and he couldn’t imagine breathing or moving would be easier on an incline.

“I can be a good boy, Master,” he whispered.

The captain smiled. “Clever. I’ll have to keep my eye on that. But then, I knew you would be. Come on, put your arms around my neck.”

Oswin knew he was a little underfed, but the captain picked him up like it was nothing. The pressure of the captain’s arm across his ruined back felt white-hot, and he cried out hoarsely as he wrapped his arms around the captain’s neck and tried to hold himself up, away from the contact. He wasn’t strong enough, and had to settle back into his new master’s grip, his eyes filling with tears and his breath growing ragged again.

“That doesn’t sound like being a good boy,” the captain whispered into his ear, a low half-growl, “That sounds like complaining when you’re being done a favor.”

Oswin forced himself to breathe through the pain, to catch his breath, to talk. His voice came out strained, and barely above a whisper. “No, Master, please! I’m grateful! I just -” he grunted in pain, in spite of himself, “I just needed to adjust but now I can be - I can be fully grateful, Master, please.”

He wasn’t sure he’d ever begged so much in one day, but this time it seemed to work, or at least, his master didn’t drop him down the stairs. Instead, the captain started climbing, not winded no the stairs even carrying Oswin’s weight. Oswin shivered in the man’s arms. He’d hoped during his whipping, before his mind fully abandoned him, that the beating would stop when the captain grew tired, but he was certain now that that hadn’t been the case.

He’d been in dangerous spots before, but this time - this time he couldn’t afford the sob that threatened to rise up in his throat, so he buried his face in the side of the captain’s neck, clinging more tightly so that the man wouldn’t think he had any thought of trying to get away.

The captain’s pleased little hum made the pressure behind Oswin’s eyes spike, but he couldn’t afford the tears, so he focused instead on his breathing, on keeping it steady, on leaning into the captain’s grip so as not to fall, and then they were at the top of the stairs and his master was still carrying him, his footsteps steady as he walked through a small receiving room, a smaller office, which was little more than a closet with a desk in it, and into a sparsely-decorated bedroom.

The captain set Oswin down on the floor, just inside the door, and Oswin watched as he pulled an old, soft-looking rug to the side and revealed a set of sigils carved into the floor in circles, which he calmly traced over in chalk, reinforcing them.

Oswin’s skin crawled, and his stomach soured, but he knew he had no hope of making it down the stairs, much less out of the building, without being caught and, presumably, tortured to death.

The captain retrieved a set of fine wax candles, more expensive than Oswin would have expected in a room like this, and Oswin thought, passively, that a quick death might have been worth it, but that wasn’t what he’d been promised.

The captain lit most of the candles and then came toward Oswin, manhandling him into the center of the circle without a word, and then arranging him on his knees, barking a single order: “Kneel.”

Oswin’s hands were bound behind his back, and he hung his head, not sure if he was going for deferential, or just for too pathetic to hurt again. Either way, the effort of staying upright soon took all of his attention, so that he hardly noticed the final candle being lit.

An enormous, winged figure stepped into the room, out of nowhere. He seemed to fill the space entirely, then shrunk down to merely looming, a head and a half taller than the guard captain and clearly strong enough to break either of them in half.

Oswin’s master was beside him, and knelt, too, albeit only on one knee, bowing deeply to the archdevil.

As the captain’s back straightened, the devil said, “Rise. Why do you request an audience, my champion?”

The captain got to his feet, but then bowed again, still standing. “I humbly propose an addendum to my contract, Master.”

Oswin’s mouth dried instantly. Power radiated from the archdevil like nothing he’d ever felt before, and his voice dripped with it. Was this fool really going to try to negotiate with it?

The archdevil laughed. “I already own your soul, child. What else is left to offer?”

The captain gestured toward Oswin. “His, for a start.”

Oswin looked up in surprise, and instantly regretted it. It had been one thing to sneak glances at the archdevil through his eyelashes; it was another to look directly up at him, meeting a pair of terrifying eyes that seemed made entirely of fire.

“You think you can make contracts with other people’s souls?”

“I can if you’re willing to agree to my terms - what I want is his soul, but not to keep, of course. I’m happy to cede it back to you the moment he dies. And my original contract stipulated that I was willing to work for you, but not to proselytize. It was a point of contention at the time, if I recall, but I told you I would not be certain enough to promise such a thing, outside myself, for some years. It has been ‘some years,’ Master, and I’m happy to find you new followers, provided that it does not jeopardize the other work I do for you.”

“And your interest in his soul?” the devil asked, still looking Oswin in the eye. Oswin found himself paralyzed, unable to look away. Under that devilish gaze, he felt like his chest was being torn apart, his insides pulled out and studied, even though no one was touching him.

“I’ve always wanted a pet wizard,” the captain said casually, “Call it professional curiosity. I know my magic is yours, of course, Master, but I’d like to study those humans who do it on their own - and I’d like to harness it. I won’t be learning myself, of course. I know where my skills lie, and the purpose you’d have me put them to. But I don’t like the idea of humans with power, and I want this one under my thumb, where I can learn to tear those apart.”

Oswin was shaking, the wounds across his back pulsing again, agonizing, while the devil’s eyes continued to rove over his front. He felt like a bug, pinned to a scientist’s paper, but the paper was burning, too, acidic and deadly.

“And why this one?” The devil’s eyes suddenly left him, turning their full force on the captain, and Oswin sagged forward, gasping for breath.

“This one’s a very interesting case,” the captain said. “No respect for a contract, which I’m hoping to beat out of him, but for once I had a wizard in my sights who wasn’t blatantly dangerous, and I thought I’d make good on the opportunity. He’s been selling counterfeit spell scrolls, and then disappearing to ply his trade somewhere else in town before his victims actually try to read or copy the damned things. The thing is, we know he’s strong enough that he could make the real thing, were he properly - motivated. He’s useful, but in need of - management.”

The archdevil hummed thoughtfully, and the captain added, “In our attempts to capture him, he displayed quite a bit of power and - spunk. I know better than to think I could control him without your direct assistance, my lord. But I hope to use him in your service.” He bowed again, more quickly this time.

The archdevil stepped forward into the circle, which Oswin had really been hoping he couldn’t do, and reached down, raising Oswin’s chin to make him look into those flaming eyes again, and nearly lifting him off the ground by the head as he did it.

“And I suppose it doesn’t hurt that he’s a pretty little thing, hmm?” the devil asked, his flame eyes flicking quickly to the captain and back.

The man chuckled. “No, my lord. It does not. Nor does it hurt that he’s already proven he breaks beautifully. You should have heard him begging earlier.”

“We will negotiate the details without him,” the archdevil said imperiously, “It’s simpler that way. And he can agree or refuse.”

Oswin was nearly hyperventilating in the devil’s grip.

“I’m not sure which I think is more interesting,” the devil added casually, before letting go of Oswin’s face and waving his hand in a pattern too quick for even Oswin’s practiced eyes to follow. A blanket of silence fell over him and he could hear nothing, not even his own breathing, for so long that he found himself collapsed inward before the sound returned, bowed low, with his forehead on the floor and his chest and stomach cushioned against his legs, where he could feel the rise and fall of the breaths he couldn’t hear and know that he was still alive.

He realized he was sobbing in dry, heaving gasps only when sound came rushing back to his ears, but he wasn’t sure how long he had been doing it.

“Very well,” the archdevil said, “Lift his head. I want to look him in the eyes again.”

The captain’s hands forced Oswin upward, tilting his head back to make him look up at the looming devil.

“Oswin the wizard,” the archdevil said, power already crackling in his voice in a way that seemed to bind up the air in Oswin’s lungs. “I assume there’s a surname that goes with that.”

“G-greystone, my lord,” Oswin said, the answer tearing out of him in spite of his dry mouth and aching throat, “My father was a mason, but thought to better himself, or at least our family.”

“Hmm, well, now you’ll be in service of a captain of the city guard - and of me. It seems he’ll be getting his wish.”

Oswin shuddered. The archdevil’s voice was oil-smooth, but so, so dangerous. He nodded wordlessly, knowing better than to disagree.

“Should you agree to cosign this addendum with my champion,” the archdevil continued, “You will be bound, body and soul, to his service. Your soul will be mine, to be delivered upon your permanent death. You will be marked as mine, but you will not receive any of my power, nor will you be allowed to use yours outside of your master’s orders.”

The archdevil’s mouth quirked upward into a smile. “I should warn you, wizard, this is an extremely bad deal for you. But my champion assures me that you are a genuine affront to order, and that whether you sign or not, you will be brought to heel. Or you could choose to be tortured to death. But you should know that your master’s contract with me stipulates that if you do not cooperate, he may kill you up to five times and have you returned to his care to try again. I have never seen a man strong enough to withstand being tortured to death a third time, much less a fourth. I’m afraid a bad deal is the only one you’ve got.”

Oswin’s mind swam. He was trapped again, pinned by those eyes, and he was burning, he was sure of it. His mind felt like it was caught in an earthquake, struggling to run to safety with the land bucking underneath him. Just as he took in a breath to speak, the archdevil interrupted him.

“Do not think you can make a deal of your own with me, instead, Oswin Greystone. This one likes a challenge, and he is a useful servant. I don’t make contracts with the desperate. Not worth the work of keeping an eye on them. Break his hold on you, and I will let the consequences be what they will. But try to take your soul back from me and I will destroy you where you stand. I do not have the patience to shepherd one who is reluctant.”

The captain held up a knife. “This agreement will be sealed in blood, or not at all. What do you choose, submission or death?”

The archdevil’s eyes had not left him. Gods, he was burning up. He knew with complete certainty that death, even drawn out, would mean facing this devil again, would mean those flaming eyes burning into him, that oil-slick voice talking to him, that crackling, unbearable power licking at the edges of his own, and he’d just wind up right back here again, waiting to be tortured.

What escaped his lips was a sob, and not an agreement, but the archdevil looked away, making a soft noise of satisfaction. “He chooses submission. Bring the parchment.”