#thank you for the ask! sorry if this a bit disjointed. I'm still a bit sick but wanted to reply

[cecils-dragons]

i loooove the way you do colour, it's always so cohesive and pleasant. do you have any tips?

Aw thank you so much!!! That means a ton to me because I do pride myself on my colors and color theming. I may not be the best to ask this tho as my tablet has slightly warped colors and in truth, I'm just making it up as I go. I have basically no actual artistic schooling outside of the minimum extra curricular school classes, so I apologize if I don't use correct terms or mess up along the way of my attempt at explaining.

ALSO! Apologies but I use the disc color pallet, I use the classic once in this but it will mainly be shown on the disc pallet because it works easier on my tablet and brain.

I use mainly warm tones in my art because that's what appeals to me, so that's what this will be about :D There are ranges of colors that I stray away from in my usual art as they can usually be achieved in some way in a warmer tone. Like instead of using the pink on the color wheel, a light red is a much nicer and warmer pink. Same things with yellow greens and teals.

But my pallets tend to keep within the warm yellow to red range, a tight range can be very appealing.

Stay away from pure white and the upper right corner of the pallet, these are both extremes and should be used only to make things pop. Diluting the colors make the world of a difference to make the colors look more natural and earthy. Even the whites of my characters eyes are not a pure white, I tend to add a smidge or yellow or orange to give them a more alive color. Don't be scared to add greys to your color and dilute it, it can work!

But on the other hand, a pure black is still so nice, I use block shading and that pops so nicely with line art.

Another thing is picking skin tones. I usually stay between an orange-yellow and the edge of reds. But even theses, I usually keep towards the center of the pallet. Skin tones can easily get muddled up if you accidentally go too bright or grey, but it can still be pulled and pushed to create a nice range of tones. For my skins, I usually have a base color and a "blush"/darker color to go with it to add depth. This blush is a tweaked version of the base slightly redder and darker to the corner of the pallet, but this rule can be tweaked if you have a fun idea for a different vibe.

Even with my brighter colors, they are still slightly diluted. Keeping them in a slightly muted tone will make it easier to add a larger range of colors together without getting overwhelmed.

But seriously, have fun out there playing around with colors and don't be scared of color dropping from references.

[yorshie]

If you're still doing requests, would you be willing to do Raph with 18 as fluff? Something like reader coming to the lair after work and trying to brush off a fever? (Side blog is rye-smiles, recently made. I've only followed for a few weeks but I've always loved TMNT. Your writing is getting me into bayverse for the first time ☺️ I love your style and characterization (of the turtles and the reader))

Hello! Thank you for including your side blog name! Doesn't matter how long you've been in the Trash Pile, we're just happy you're here :)

And YEEESSS another convert! Glad you're getting into bayverse, I'm sorry my writing operates on the assumption you've already seen the movies lol. It is my main jammy jam, but I try not to talk bad about the other iterations, I like all the turtles.

And Alrighty~ Let's get to Big Red (sorry if this feels a bit disjointed i was going for sick reader-not much visual info)

The world wasn't quite spinning sideways when you tipped through the turnstiles and into the Lair, but you definitely counted yourself lucky that a cool grip caught your shoulder before you could spill onto the floor.

A flash of red fluttered beside your face, and you let out a little sigh, comforted that it was Raph who had caught you. His grip was gentle, fingers curling to squeeze lightly when you did nothing more than hang in his grip.

"Are you alright, sweetheart?" He asked somewhere above your line of sight, and you nodded stubbornly, not realizing you continued the motion doggedly until his other hand came up to press against your forehead, the little scales on the back of his hand almost smooth against you.

"You sure about that, tiger? Cuz you feel really warm." You leaned into the cool hand pressing against your skin, barely feeling it when he moved to palm the side of your face.

"Alright, clearly out of it then. C'mon." The earth swayed violently, and you were intensely glad there was nothing left in your stomach to protest the movement. Another blink and you were airborne, cradled in a strong grip that gently swayed. Your mind tiredly supplied different parts of the familiar Lair moving slowly past as Raph carried you through the living room and up the stairs leading to personal spaces.

You thought you'd only blinked, but the next thing you were aware of was cold sheets and a blanket being tucked over you, breath painting your face as Raph crouched in front of you.

You tried to shift away into the comforting plush of his blankets, but he tapped you gently on your cheek to get your attention. "Not yet, sweetheart. You gonna puke?" When you tiredly shook your head, he spoke again. "You take any medicine?"

Another shake, and he finally smoothed a hand over your hair, inviting you to snuggle into the silent affection. "Alright, well.... stay here, don't go trying to wander off. I'm gonna go check with Don on some stuff. Be right back."

You did little more than hum to show you'd heard, and maybe understood, before footsteps walking away drifted through your sleepy mind and you snuggled into Raph's bed once more.

In what felt like no time at all, hands were curling around your arms, pulling you upright to lean against the hard edge of a plastron. You grumbled at the treatment, trying to slop back into the blankets and return to their warmth.

Raph snorted, gave his own grumble that rattled across your skin, and your eyes opened blearily just in time to see the cup of reddish pink medicine heading straight for your slack mouth.

Artificial cherries. You must have made some sort of face, because Raph shushed your apparent protest.

"Nu uh, take it all." Your hand came up to hold onto the cup, to control the flow of liquid, and Raph let you do so, only pulling the cup away when it was empty. "Alright, now, drink some water."

You did as he asked, watching him watch you oh so closely, taking in the way he kept his hands out in case you toppled off his side. When you handed the water back and laid down once more, you captured one hand, bringing it lazily up to your face as a substitute for a cold pack.

His chuckle was lost to the undignified snore you let loose, but you felt the slow pet of his thumb over your cheek right before you dropped off.

[allastoredeer]

HIIIII your Just Kiss Already series has consumed me!!!! I’m OBSESSED! Do you have any idea how long it’ll be in total? I adore slow burns but also the painnnnn of waiting. I totally understand if you don’t know but I am constantly refreshing for updates even though I know this stuff takes time! Do you happen to have any recs for radioapple fics that are similar or you’d recommend to hold me over?

Hello! Sorry for the late response.

I'm still doing a bit of reading myself, I haven't gone through all the fics I've wanted to read, but here's some of the RadioApple I've found so far that I enjoyed:

Lucifer and His Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Relationship by keelywolfe - A series following the overall dysfunction and strange terrain of Lucifer and Alastor's relationship...of sorts. There is smut involved. I really enjoy the fun, disjointed dynamic between them, especially with Lucifer having to learn/figure out how Alastor thinks to get a grasp of how to interact with him. Do mind the tags, there is some unhealthy relationship in there, miscommunication on both sides, lots of dysfunction involved, and smut, but I really enjoyed their interactions and how they're learning to read each other. Also, it has bottom!Alastor which is my favorite :3

My Kingdom Come Undone by literalmetaphor - Charlie roping Alastor and Lucifer into doing trust exercises to help them get along. Heheh I really like the humor in this one. Both Alastor and Lucifer are such petty little bitches, and it amuses me to no end. They do not hold back their verbal punches. I also really like a lot of the author's descriptions. They're fun and scratch my brain in just the right way. I haven't finished it just yet because I've been busy, but it's still open in my browser so I can get back to it whenever I get time.

Unhealthy Attachments by keelywolfe - More dynamic between Alastor and Lucifer, and what Alastor gets out of having sex with Lucifer (Rated E in case that wasn't obvious). Alastor and his strategic brain, and how that bleeds into the dynamics he builds with other people. I love getting insight into his brain like that. (Another bottom!Alastor fic because 😫👌 I love that shit).

And...huh, that's it, actually. I have a few more pulled up in my browser that I'm gonna get around to reading, but as for RadioApple these are the ones I bookmarked. LOL I'm actually just noticing how many RadioStatic fics I bookmarked.

Hope you enjoy these! I love fics with a fun, bitchy Alastor and a deep-dive into his brain and social interactions with other characters. It's my bread and butter.

EDIT: I forgot to answer your question at the beginning of the asks XD Thank you! I'm glad you're enjoying the series! I'm not sure how long the series is going to be just yet. I know, at the very least, they'll have to kiss, per the name. My brain loves developing plots though, so it may span longer and REALLY deep dive into Alastor and Lucifer's relationships and the trials and tribulations that put it to the test.

Hopefully, I can get around to writing the next part soon!

[samgirl98]

Mending a Family 24/?

Prev | Next

I'm not too proud of this chapter. It feels a bit disjointed, but I needed certain things to happen to progress the story a bit. Sorry if it's not my usual standard of writing. Let me know what you think

Dick was with his siblings. They were playing with Mar’i. Soon, she would start school, and he was terrified of letting her go alone.

She was his baby; she was too young.

Tim came up to him, holding a cup of coffee. Dick frowned at his younger brother. Tim had the audacity to smirk and take a sip. His bags were prominent. The brothers stood next to each other in silence for a while. Dick watched as his little girl floated in the air and her aunts and uncles chased her.

“I found some footage of Jason close to the Canadian border.”

Dick straightened. He knew his younger brother was alive thanks to the present he had sent Alfred.

“He had a kid with him.”

Dick turned toward Tim, surprised.

“What,” he asked.

“Yeah, the kid was four or five, maybe six, but I doubt it. Barbara and I found the footage a while ago, but I didn’t know how to bring it up. I haven’t found any more traces of them, but I think Jason crossed the border.”

Dick turned to Mar’i. Did she have a cousin?

Why was he feeling betrayed when he had kept Mar’i away from Jason?

“Give me a moment,” Dick said, walking away from Tim. He took out a phone and called Roy. He was surprised the man had picked up.

“What do you want, Grayson?”

“Does Jason have a kid,” he asked without preamble. He wanted to catch the other man off guard. A surprised person was most likely to tell the truth.

“I have no idea what you mean, Grayson.”

“Listen, if Jason has a kid with him, we deserve to know.”

“You don’t deserve to know shit about Jason. You guys abandoned him. How about you leave the man alone, and you and your whole family get therapy? I hear Dinah has some openings.”

Roy hung up, and Dick still hadn’t gotten his answer. How was Bruce going to take this? Should they even tell him without more evidence? What if Jason had a kid and left because he didn’t want the family around his child?

Mar’i’s laughter seemed to haunt him.

____

Danny pouted as Jason took pictures of him. He looked so cute with his little backbag.

“Daddy, are you done yet,” Danny whined.

“Almost, kiddo, just one more picture, please?”

It wasn’t fair for daddies to have puppy eyes.

It was Danny’s first day at school, and his dad was going overboard with the first-day pictures. Jazz couldn’t help but smile.

“We’re gonna be late,” Danny said. He didn’t care about being on time but wanted the torture to stop.

His dad had enrolled him in a school for gifted children. He would be taught in French and English. Danny knew he would hate it. Well, he would only have to deal with it for one semester, and then he could bow out of preschool.

Daddy drove him to school.

He suddenly felt nervous when he saw the building and all the kids entering.

“It’ll be fine, chum,” Jason told his son. He felt his little boy’s anxiety. “Do you want me to walk you to your classroom?”

Danny nodded. He took his daddy’s hand, and they walked into the building. Jason introduced himself to the teacher. She seemed nice.

“Okay, kiddo, you’re gonna be brave, right?”

Danny nodded. He had never been away from his dad. What if something bad happened?

“It’ll be fine, darling boy.”

His dad hugged him, “Now, go and have fun.”

Danny let go of his dad. He looked back one last time before entering the classroom. It was colorful. The five-year-old in him liked all the colors and toys. The sixteen-year-old in him cringed away from the noise. It was tough being two ages at once.

Danny sat by a girl with glasses and blonde hair.

“Bonjour, je m’appelle Sarah. Comment t’appelles-tu?”

“Sorry, I don’t speak French,” Danny said.

“Hi, I’m Sarah. What’s your name?”

“Danny,” he said. The girl smiled at him, showing that she had missing teeth. Oh, Ancients, were his teeth going to start falling out soon?

“Nice to meet you, Danny.”

Danny took a deep breath. If he would be here for the next few months, he might as well make a friend so he wouldn’t be lonely.

Danny smiled at the girl, “Nice to meet you, too.”

“Okay, class, let’s get to know each other,” the teacher suddenly said.

Danny sighed; it was going to be a long day.

____

Jason sighed.

It was going to be a long day. He didn’t know how dependent he had gotten on taking care of Danny.

Now that his little boy was gone, he didn’t know what to do with himself. He went back home and spent the day with Ellie.

He kept the phone close in case the school called.

He never imagined how long the day would be without Danny around. Is this what every parent had to deal with when their child went to school?

He knew school was good for Danny. It would help entertain him, and it would be easier to make friends. But, God, he was missing his little boy!

Ellie giggled at him as she threw her baby food on his face.

“Now, Ellie, we don’t waste food.”

The little girl gave a toothy grin. Jason couldn’t help but smile back.

“Maybe you should go out on a walk,” Jazz came and said suddenly.

“What, why?” He got another spoonful of baby food, and Ellie gladly bit into it. Her little teeth left marks on the spoon.

“You need to learn to deal with Danny being away. Maybe find a hobby to do. You’re not going to feel better staying indoors.”

“I’m fine,” Jason said. Ellie had finished her food.

Jazz rolled her eyes and took Ellie with her. Great, now what should he do?

He went outside and sat on the porch. Suddenly, the phone rang.

Jason picked it up before the second ring sounded.

“Hello,” he said, feeling scared. What if something had happened to Danny?

“Hey, Jay, it’s me.”

Jason felt himself relax at Roy’s voice.

“Hey, Roy, how you been?”

“Good, good,” Roy’s voice trailed off.

“Is something wrong? Is Lian okay?”

“Yeah, Lian is good. How are the kids?”

“Great, Danny started his first day of school today.”

“Oh, ouch, I remember Lian’s first day in preschool. It was tough.”

“I have a feeling you called for something,” Jason said after a moment of silence.

“Dick called me earlier,” Jason tensed again, “He asked me if you had a kid. I didn’t tell him anything.”

Jason sucked in a breath. Dick knew, which meant that Bruce would know soon. Would he have to move again? He didn’t want to lose his son!

Jazz came out with Ellie in her arms, frowning, “What’s wrong?”

“Do they know where I’m at?”

“From what I can tell, no. Look, I don’t think you should worry, but I had to tell you they knew about Danny.”

“Yeah, thanks, Roy. You’re a real one.”

“Take care, Jay. I’ll keep my ears to the ground.”

“What’s wrong,” Jazz asked. She sat by Jason; even Ellie looked concerned.

“My old family knows about Danny. What if they come and take him away from me?”

Jazz put her hand on Jason’s, “Hey, look at me. Neither Danny nor I will allow anyone to break up this little family. Besides, Raven has shielded us with spells; they won’t find us. And if they do, we’ll kick their butts.”

“Thanks, Jazz.”

They sat in silence, each contemplating the future.

@itsberrydreemurstuff @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @skulld3mort-1fan @theauthorandtheartist @emergentpanda-blog @jaggedheart11 @fisticuffsatapplebees @booberrylizard @fantasticbluebirdfan @thegatorsgooseoose @cyrwrites @kjoboo91 @crystallicedart @amaramizuki666 @spekulatiusmuffin @meira-3919 @kilasmess @bubblemixer @lexdamo @wonderland-daisy @mj-arts-n-stuff @amyheart19 @dolfay @the-church-grimm @undead-essence @aph-mable @lizisipancardo @purrloin77 @writer-extraodinaire @charlietheepic7 @sinfulloccultist @nootherusernameworked @coruscateselene @chaoticchange @itsberrydreemurstuff @gmkelz11 @feral-bunny31 @paroovian @thatonegaybitch68 @d4ydr34min9 @overtherose @fandomwandererer @vipower001 @thordottir45 @blackrabbitt3t @rosecinnamonbun @bianca-hooks123 @epilepticnerd @dat1angel @consouling @flamingenchiladadragon @all-mights-asscheeks @ender-reader @fuyu-bitch @ravenswife

[everybodyshusband]

Tw: Emetophobia

Can you please consider writing a hurt/comfort fic about a little ghoul who gets sick and has tummy hurts?

I threwed up today and my tummy still hurts and my mom (I’m not a minor I just live with her) is being even meaner and scarier than usual even though I don’t feel good. I would like to haves some ghoul comfort please? I wanna feel safe for a whiles and feel taken cares of please. Thanks you, I loves yous /p!

of course i can, love. it sounds like you've had a really bad day, i hope you're feeling better now <3 i saw your other ask as well, and of course i can have them cry and be comforted (and i'm very sorry to hear about your dropped crackers. i hope you managed to cry a little bit without your mum seeing <3)

mountain/nonbinary regressed rain comfort coming right up :) cw for mentions of vomiting

“Rain? What’s going on in there, love?” Mountain knocks on the door sounding worried and Rain can’t help the sad, longing whine that escape their throat at the sound of his voice.

"I– I don' feel good... Hurts." As Rain speaks, the world seems to start spinning all over again, despite the fact that they’re now sitting on the cool bathroom floor. They slowly realise that maybe they’re the one doing the spinning. They wouldn't be surprised, their limbs feel a lot shakier than usual and their head feels all… fuzzy.

The earth ghoul opens the door slowly and his face immediately scrunches up in worry as he walks in to find Rain swaying where they sit, leaning against the sink with a plushie held limply to their chest with arms that feel too wobbly. He runs to the little ghoul’s side and crouches down beside them, brushing his fingers softly against their—concerningly warm—cheek. "It hurts? What's hurting, my darling?"

"I's here." They point to their stomach and almost immediately let out a hurt whine and hug the plushie closer to their stomach as another wave of nausea overwhelms them. "Tummy hurts an' feel sick." They manage to force the words out past the dizzying sensation as Mountain tilts his head in confusion at their original, vague answer.

"Oh, Rainy, poor love." Mountain pulls them into a loose hug, leaving plenty of room for the little ghoul to breathe—or to escape his hold, if that’s what they need—and Rain wraps their arms around Mountain as tightly as they can manage in return, sniffling and burying their head in the earth ghoul's shoulder. "Do we need to get your plushie out of the way in case anything comes up? We don’t want them getting dirty, do we, hmm?” His arms are already reaching out to take the plushie from their arms but Rain pulls back and shakes their head quickly.

"Already comed up…” They sniffle as they speak; partly from the memory of only a few minutes before that makes their stomach churn the more they think about it, and partly from fear that Mountain really will take their plushie away if they get sick again. “But I don' feel good. I thinked was gonna feel gooder, but I don't!" They don’t realise they’ve started crying until Mountain pulls their head away and swipes a tear off their face with gentle fingers, pressing a soft kiss to their wet cheeks afterwards for good measure. The realisation that they’re crying only makes them sob harder as they bat their hands weakly at Mountain’s chest, their breaths coming out short and disjointed from their panic. “I– I don’ wanna be sick, Mounty! I don’ wanna feel bader!”

“Hey, hey, no, love, it’s okay,” the earth ghoul soothes, stroking their head and running his fingers through their hair as gently and calmly as he can. “You’re okay,” he whispers against Rain’s hair. “You’re gonna be okay, tadpole.”

Rain pulls back and looks up at Mountain through their tear-blurred vision. “Promise?” Their voice wobbles with unshed tears.

They’re not sure if they can believe Mountain when he says they’re going to be okay, but they do their best to nod and wipe their tears away as the earth ghoul reassures them. “Yes. Yes, you’re going to feel better soon, my darling. I promise.”

“O– Okay. I buh-leeve you, Mounty.” They surge forward to hug the earth ghoul, burying their face in his chest once again. They smile as Mountain laughs, the vibrations in his chest rumbling against Rain’s cheek, helping them regulate their breathing as they begin to calm down.

They still feel sick, and a little bit like crying again, but they’re relatively content to be held in Mountain’s arms for as long as he’ll let them. If they’re really lucky, maybe he’ll even let Rain fall asleep in his lap and carry them back to bed, tucking them in with a kiss on their forehead and a whispered “Sleep well, little one. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

[cloud-somersault]

Hey, how are you doing? I hope you’re alright. 💕 I’ve been reading your status updates on Constellations and the Epilogue, and I just wanted to let you know that I think you’re amazing. Your writing is incredible and I love it. Your stories are so well thought out and the characters are ✨on point✨, and the plot is complex and detailed and aaahhh! It has me hooked! 🤩

And I understand how it hurts when you put so much effort and love into a story, only to post it and not see others be anywhere near as excited or invested as you are. I know how discouraging it can be. And it may be a little silly, but I do want to apologize for not commenting lately—life took some difficult turns for me healthwise around the end of last year and I haven’t been able to catch up! I’m still on Chapter 4 of Constellations! 😭 BUT Chapter 5 is open on my phone, and I am READY to read it as soon as I have the time (and mental energy, but that’s a whole ‘nother issue 😩). Don’t worry that your writing isn’t enough, or be discouraged if some readers don’t catch hints while others are figuring it all out seemingly too easily. Everybody reads and comprehends stuff differently, and it’s not a sign that your writing is bad if they don’t catch it! Honestly, I’m pretty bad at catching hints the first time I read a story unless they’re pretty darn obvious. I don’t usually notice subtle hints until the second, or third, or even seventh read-through, haha! (on the bright side, rereading stories and rewatching TV shows is always fun!) 😅

I guess what I really wanted to say is… don’t give up hope. Don’t lose your love and enthusiasm for your works, or feel like they aren’t worth writing because others don’t seem interested in them. At the heart of it all… at the end of the day… write because you love to. Because it makes you happy. And know that it doesn’t have to be “perfect”—the main goal should be that you enjoy it. That’s something I’m trying to teach myself, too. 💕

Thank you for taking the time to write this message and send it. I appreciate you're very kind words 💕I'm doing okay, I just had to take a step back for a bit from socials and stuff. I'm gonna keep that up for a while.

Please don't apologize for not commenting or taking your time reading. Your health always comes first, and I'm sorry if I came off as childish or needy, that wasn't my intention. Two things just happened that set me off and the timing of it was incredibly poor 😓

Please take your time reading; none of it is going anywhere, and don't feel obligated to leave comments either. i'm realizing that, even if chapters are short or long, finding the time to finish things is difficult, and everyone lives different lives. And I'm sorry about all the spoilers on this blog, I'll tag that better from now on.

But I really do think I got confused or disjointed in my perceptions; everyone here knows so much because i've been asked questions and given answers and people have interacted, so people following me here have more context than the average ao3 user. But I've kinda been expecting everyone to be on the same page, which will never be true.

I'm also the same way where it takes me a while to pick up on hints. I actually changed my writing style to prevent this. I got tired of reading books in college where you had to dive into every little thing. the hints and clues weren't obvious to me. I decided then that, when I wrote, I wanted things to be bold, obvious, but beautiful. I didn't want to make readers feel like they're missing something. I wanted them to trust that every answer, every clue would be answered in time. I made that promise to myself a decade ago, and being reminded of how different people interpret things just...made me remember.

I take writing really seriously, probably too seriously, but I've been doing it for so long and I love doing it. I want to be good at it. When it feels like I've gone back on that promise to myself, I get frustrated. I think of ways I could've fixed things. But I also remember that those books and those writing styles just weren't for me. I wasn't the target audience.

Sorry to go off on a tangent, but I wanted to explain why I got upset. I still love Constellations and I'm posting it on ao3 out of convenience, really. It's easier to reference and search there in one "Entire Work" than to have 5 documents open. The fact that others can see and read and have fun is a bonus. But I'm committed to telling this story, and I'm gonna finish with a bang.

Thank you, I won't forget why I'm doing this and that my thoughts/feelings come first! 😤I hope your health concerns are taken care of soon. Take it easy, and thanks again! 💕

[moonchildreads]

small town

Chapter 14 - Missing You

IN THIS CHAPTER: The meaning of flowers, homemade cake, and Maureen and Margaret become friends [6.0k]

WARNINGS: angst, discussions about dead parents (car accident/unspecified terminal illness), survivor's guilt, unprocessed grief - please heed my warnings. i'm currently grieving someone and this is very raw, proceed only if it won't hurt you

A/N: shout out to @duquesademiel and @justahappycloud for teaching me that it is okay to write as a form of therapy, and i'm sorry i keep sending you the sad bits of this fic only. i love you and i can't believe i get to call you my friends. also, big thank you to @boomhauer for letting me use her chosen name for eddie's dad - i admire you greatly and everyone should go and read disjointed as a thank you. we're so very lucky we have you in this fandom <3

masterlist - prev - next | playlist

You had so much hope for a brighter day Why were you my flower plucked away?

Sunday, May 11th - 1986

“What on Earth are you doing?”

Mother’s Day had always been a weird day for Dottie. When she was a toddler, it was just another calm and quiet Sunday, albeit one where her Dad wanted more cuddles than usual, which, quite frankly, already were a lot. Still, she enjoyed the extra attention and he loved holding his little girl in his arms while she took a nap on his chest so there were no complaints to be heard from either side. When she was in kindergarten, her class spent an entire Friday making gifts for their Moms. Dottie came back home with a hopeful smile and gave her paper mache and macaroni flower to her Dad, asking if he could send it all the way up to Heaven for her. James had neer been happier about the fact that they now had separate bedrooms so she wouldn’t hear him sob clutching her handcraft to his chest while she slept. When she was around 8, she asked her Dad why couldn’t they simply celebrate Mother’s Day like everyone else in her class.

Margaret’s physical absence in her daughter’s life wasn’t an unusual topic in their home; in fact, a lot of teachers commented on it as Dottie grew up, praising James for keeping her memory alive and normalizing a sad situation so his kid wouldn’t suffer. James wasn’t sure why telling his daughter that she had been so very much loved by her dead parent was worthy of being praised, but as a single dad in the ‘70s, he took whatever kind words he could get. He made sure that Dottie understood she had a Mom, that she didn’t suddenly appear from thin air one day to change James’ life forever, that she’d been wanted and dreamed of by both parents. Margaret’s face was in countless pictures around their home, they stayed in her old bedroom whenever they visited her side of the family in Pennsylvania, they talked about what she’d say or what she’d do at all times. Margaret Burke was a constant presence in their lives despite her untimely death, and the fact that they celebrated that every day except during Mother’s Day didn’t feel right to her daughter.

That’s how Dottie found herself establishing little traditions that were still in place that Sunday afternoon when she opened her front door to find one of her best friends holding a small bouquet tied together with a big silver ribbon. Dressed in an all-black ensemble as he usually did, the lilac and white flowers sprinkled with greenery were the only pop of color in the foggy drizzly afternoon. Eddie was smiling wide despite the ugly weather, his dimples perfectly on display for the world to appreciate.

“Hey! This is for you,” Eddie thrust the flowers forward. “Actually, they are for your Mom but… yeah.”

“You bought my Mom flowers?” Dottie said, disbelief present in her tone as her fingers brushed against his chunky rings when she accepted the bouquet, skin bristling at the contact.

“Yeah, you like ‘em? The purple ones are rosemary and the white ones are, uh, bellflowers? The lady at the shop said there are, like, a million white flowers that look like bells so I picked the prettiest ones,” he dropped his backpack on the armchair in the living room and followed her to the kitchen.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did you pick these?”

“Well, I kinda… borrowed your flower book?” he admitted, leaning on the kitchen island to watch her fill a glass vase and start arranging the flowers. “The one you and Jeff were talking about at lunch? It’s in my bag.”

“Wait, what? When did you grab it? I didn’t even notice it was gone.”

“Yesterday, when you left me alone in your room to go get snacks. D’you have any more of those strawberries? They were so good.”

“Yes, but you can’t eat them. We need them for the cake,” Dottie cut a few long stems until she was happy with how her vase looked and tied the silver ribbon that the bouquet had been bound with around the glass. “So if you stole my book, what do these mean?”

“I didn’t steal it, I was gonna give it back!” he said, faking being offended at her accusation before he dropped the act and stared down at his hands. “The, um- the rosemary is remembrance. The bell flowers are gratitude.”

“Gratitude? For my Mom?” she searched for his eyes with her own but he kept looking at his rings.

“Just wanted to thank her, y’know,” he looked up at her after a pause. “For giving me you.”

“Shit, Ed, you can’t say things like that without a warning, you’re gonna make me cry!” she fanned her face with her hand, voice playful but eyes full of very real tears. “Thank you, you’re… thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” he smiled shyly, reaching across the island to grab a flower out of the vase and bump her nose with it.

She giggled, taking the long stem from his fingers and setting it behind her right ear before turning around towards the counter where baking supplies were neatly laid out. She picked up two envelopes: one was the now familiar soft pink rectangle she had been carrying in her backpack all week but the other one was unassuming plain white. She slid the white one across the ceramic countertop; Eddie opened it to find a Garfield themed Mother’s Day card, the orange cat grinning on the front of the glossy paper. A pen entered his line of vision and he looked up to see Dottie nervously staring at him.

“I got you your own card,” she explained, clicking the pen and offering it to him. “Thought maybe you’d like to join my little ritual later.”

“Ritual?”

“I write down the things I want to say to my Mom and then I burn the card. It’s dumb, you know I don’t really believe in, like, the afterlife or whatever but… Dunno. Feels like the words reach her if I burn it.”

“No, I get it,” he reassured her. “So I can write whatever I want?”

“Yeah! I mostly just update mine on how everything’s going. About my Dad, and school, stuff like that. Like leaving a message on her answering machine.”

“Okay, I can do that,” he smiled. “I’ll join your ritual.”

“Yeah? Okay, cool! I’ll… I’ll get started on the cake while you do that then.”

Happy to have a task to focus on instead of staring at him for an hour, Dottie opened a bottom drawer and took out a dark green apron with a tiny lemon pattern, quickly tying it behind her back with a thin bow. Eddie watched her move around her kitchen with ease, measuring ingredients and lining up a cake pan with parchment paper like she’d done it a thousand times. He supposed she’d had; kids with hard childhoods always knew their way around ovens and knives. It was simply a matter of survival: sometimes you were hungry and there weren’t any adults around even if the grownups in your life weren’t neglectful, like Wayne or James. Eddie looked down at Garfield’s large face printed on the paper and began spilling everything that was rattling inside his brain through his pen. He wrote, and wrote, and wrote until the left side of the opened card was full and had no more space to write on, so he continued writing on the backside.

He told his Mom about Wayne while Dottie mixed flour, cornstarch, baking powder, and salt. He promised her he’d graduate this year while hearing the sounds of two eggs being cracked, the overwhelming sweetness of vanilla extract filling the air. He confided that he didn’t feel as lonely as before anymore, that he thought he finally had great friends, a club that looked up to him, a band that made him proud. He asked her not to worry about him anymore when Dottie poured the batter into a round pan and offered him the spoon to lick. And thus, Eddie wrote to her Mom about the girl he had a growing crush on, how he felt like he didn’t have to hide anything from her because she understood him in ways that other people had never understood, and how desperately he hoped she would look at him in the same way he saw her. If he had lifted his head up when he was putting the card back into the envelope, he would have seen Dottie sneaking glances at him while she cut strawberries and realized that he didn’t have to hope for anything anymore; Dottie already looked at him with stars in her eyes even if he didn’t think he was worthy of it yet.

With the cake baking in the oven for the next 30 minutes, all the strawberries cut in half, and the homemade jam finishing its 48 hour setting period in the fridge, both teens sat down on cushy stools at the kitchen island to finish the half-done homework they had abandoned on Saturday after it got dark. They could hear James pottering about upstairs, cleaning the bathroom while listening to the radio. He was singing along to West End Girls by the Pet Shop Boys - “the latest #1 on the Billboard Hot 100” the announcer had said. James didn’t really like the Pet Shop Boys, but he had heard it so much on the radio during the last couple of months that he couldn’t be blamed for knowing the lyrics by heart at that point.

“You done?” Eddie asked, gathering his stuff and shoving everything into his backpack.

“Yeah- yeah, I’m done,” Dottie said, moving to clear her stuff too. “Cake should be done in five, I think.”

“What’s next?”

“Wanna whip the cream while I do the glaze?”

“Sure. You’re gonna have to guide me though,” his face lit up in a mischievous smile. “And I’m gonna need one of those cute little aprons you’ve been hiding from me too.”

“You get plain dark blue,” she said, going through the drawer. “Or… I can offer you a “Kiss the Cook” apron with a big red heart on it?”

“Princess, you already know which one I want,” he batted his eyelashes at her. “Besides, it matches my scrunchie!”

Dottie tried to contain her giggles with no success when he tied his hair up into a bun with the red scrunchie that had found permanent residence in the depths of her empty fruit bowl, twirling around to show off his new hairdo. He bowed his head so she could slip the apron around his neck, leaving the tying up to him and fetching the ingredients for their next tasks. She separated them into two small piles, his ingredients to the right, hers to the left.

“To make whipped cream you put heavy cream in this,” she slid a bowl in front of him. “And you use the mixer to whisk it until it gets a bit bubbly. Then, you add the sugar and the vanilla extract, and you mix until it’s not runny anymore.”

“How much of everything?” he asked, pushing his sleeves to his elbows.

“One tablespoon of sugar and one teaspoon of vanilla extract.”

“The tablespoon is the big one, right?”

“Yes, chef,” she said, juicing a lemon for her glaze.

They worked together in relative silence, the loud sounds of the mixer drowning any words they could say. Eddie found out that he could draw on the cream when it got a bit more stiff, and quickly proceeded to spend the next few minutes drawing penis shape after penis shape into the mixture. He thought it was hilarious until Dottie unplugged the electric appliance, shaking her head at his antics. He got the cake out of the oven while she finished up her glaze, concentrating on not burning her concoction heating up on the stovetop.

“Do you always bake a cake for Mother’s Day?”

“Pretty much, yeah. It was my Mom’s favorite cake, it’s her recipe, so... Dunno, it feels nice. And I get to eat cake in the end so everything works out.”

“Y’know, I don’t think I’ve seen anyone make lemon glaze since I lived with my Grandma for three months,” he said, fanning the cake with a takeaway menu to cool it down.

“That sounds fun. How old were you?”

“Eight. Stayed with her the whole summer. She made awful lemon bars, I mean that shit tasted like fuckin’ cardboard,” Dottie snorted at his horrified expression. “But she made the best apple pie I’ve ever had. I think I gained like 10 pounds that summer.”

“Just from apple pie?” she asked, adding the last bit of the lemon juice to the pot.

“And ice cream,” he smiled. “Best summer of my life.”

“Eddie?” she said softly. “Can I ask you something kind of personal?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“How old were you when you moved in with Wayne?”

“After that summer. Actually,” he snorted bitterly. “The only reason I got to stay with my Grandma all those months was because my Dad got himself locked up and didn’t think it was important to mention he had a kid.”

“What?”

“They found out I existed when the school year started. A teacher asked me about my summer and called Social Services. When they came to see me, they said my Grandma was too old to raise me, so Wayne asked for custody. Been living with him since then.”

“What happened to your Dad?” she turned off the heat and turned to look at him.

“He’s still in prison. Won’t get out until I’m in my thirties as far as I know. He’s an asshole so… I don’t really care about him, and Wayne doesn’t either. Never went to visit him. Shit, I don’t think he even knows where they’ve got him, and that’s his little brother.”

“I mean, you just said he was an asshole so…”

“Yeah, I did,” he let out a wry chuckle.

“What’s his name? It isn’t Edward, right?”

“No, my Mom chose Edward. His name’s Wyatt.”

“Ah, that sucks,” she shook her head, moving past him to cut the cake in half to start assembling. He looked at her questioningly. “Wayne and Wyatt? ‘Cause you like alliteration?”

“Doesn’t ruin it for me. Actually, you might like this - you know what other two names start with the same letter?” he leaned onto the counter next to her. She was still wearing a sprig of rosemary in her hair.

“Bilbo and Baggins?” she joked.

“Maureen and Margaret.”

Dottie stopped cutting, knife halfway into the soft vanilla sponge, and stared at him. Eddie was looking at the two envelopes laying side by side next to the flower vase, right hand twirling the rings on his left hand. She remembered a conversation she’d had with Ms. Kelly early on in February after the excitement of being the new kid had died down and everyone had forgotten about her, going back to their cliques and usual groups of friends without sparing a single glance at her. If you want others to open up to you, you have to be open with them too, Ms. Kelly had said, in that gentle voice she always talked to troubled students with.

As much as Eddie wore his heart on his sleeve, he wasn’t keen on talking about his past. He rarely offered up pieces of important information about his childhood, choosing to only share the inconsequential parts instead. Everything else was locked up tight in his chest, just like Dottie did with her deepest memories. She wondered if the reason he was being candid with her now was because she’d let him peek behind her curtains first on Friday night at Lover’s Lake. A key exchanged for a key.

“Your mom’s name was Maureen?” Dottie asked, resuming her cutting.

“Yeah. Wayne says everyone called her Mo.”

“That’s a pretty name,” she smiled. “Mo and Maggie. Maybe they would’ve been friends.”

“Yeah. That would’ve been nice. We could have introduced them.”

“I don’t know if I’d be in Hawkins if my Mom was still here, though,” she said, sliding a big spatula under the first layer of cake to move it to a different plate. “Don’t think we would have moved out of New York.”

“Dunno if I’d be here either,” Eddie admitted, watching her spread the whipped cream he had made on the cake. “My Mom wasn’t from Hawkins. I don’t really know where she was from, I asked but Wayne doesn’t know either so… Said she didn’t like talking about it ‘cause her parents kicked her out when they found out she was pregnant.”

“That’s actually so wretched.”

“I know, right? Like, I know my Dad was always a fucking asshole but it wasn’t her fault, she was barely 17.”

“How did she meet your Dad then? If she wasn’t from Hawkins.”

“As far as I know, she worked at a diner my Dad stopped at on his route. Wayne got him a job as a trucker when he turned 18. So he met my Mom there, dated her for like, three months at the most, and then I showed up to ruin everything,” Dottie scoffed at him but he continued. “She dropped out of high school, he brought her to Hawkins and I was born here. They got married when she turned 18 a few months later. Actually, my Grandma kinda forced them to get married. She really liked my Mom and didn’t want people to treat her like shit ‘cause she had a bastard child.”

“God, people sucked back then.”

“It was the ‘60s, The Beatles were the biggest band in the world, everything sucked back then.”

“Say that again and I’ll kill you in your sleep,” she deadpanned and he let out a huge snort, enjoying how easy it was to rile her up. “You were saying, though.”

“Nah, it’s just… If they were married, it didn’t look like I was an unhappy accident, y’know?” Eddie got a bit more serious. “Anyway, Wyatt didn’t really want to be a dad. He would get in his truck and leave for days, and then when he came back he treated my Mom like shit. I don’t remember much but my Grandma told me once that he used to hit her a lot. I mean, I was his own personal punching bag so that shouldn’t surprise me as much as it does but still.”

“Jesus Christ,” she breathed out.

“It’s been ages since I’ve seen him and my Mom died when I was three, that’s why I don’t really remember anything,” he said, but he did. He remembered everything about Wyatt Munson; every hit, every insult, every scream. He cleared his throat. “After that, my Dad quit his job and started working at Brimborn before it closed down.”

“Brimborn… That’s the abandoned warehouse on Cherry Lane, right?”

“Cherry Oak Drive.”

“There’s like three different roads with “cherry” in their names in Hawkins, it’s so dumb.”

“Nobody said we were very original around here,” he chuckled.

Dottie moved around the kitchen to go find the strawberry jam she’d made a few days prior and found him still staring at the cards when she turned. He wasn’t crying at the memories, he didn’t even look sad. Just… resigned. Like he’d gotten used to things being shit all the time so it was a waste of time to get upset about them anymore. She left the jar on the counter and wrapped her arms around Eddie’s waist, her chest colliding with his back, her face buried between his shoulder blades.

“I’m so happy Wayne was there for you. He’s a great man.”

“Yeah,” he said, voice uncharacteristically soft, hands curling around hers. “Sometimes… sometimes I used to wish he was my real Dad, y’know?”

“He is.”

They stayed like that in the middle of Dottie’s kitchen, a million different things running through their heads: the dead mothers that shared the first letter of their names, the men that had raised them, and the people who had cared for them along the way. There was love to be found here in this kitchen, they both knew it. Only time would tell what it could turn into - what it would turn into - but for now, this friendship that only seemed to grow stronger every day was more than they had dreamed of when they first met in that dark props room thanks to the one and only Dustin Henderson. Maybe a Thank You note was in order.

Eddie thought it was very fitting that there wasn’t a bit of sunshine to be found as they stepped out into the backyard to begin what Dottie kept calling her “little ritual”. He held their envelopes carefully, one on each hand, while he watched her shove bits of craft paper and small branches into an empty bucket of paint, a box of matches resting on the floor next to her sneakers. She grabbed one and lit it on fire, throwing it into the can that had been scrubbed clean of any traces of paint ages ago and was now used as a regular bucket of water to douse the embers whenever James felt like using the grill. Wordlessly, she took her envelope from him and knelt in front of the can with her eyes closed, pressing the paper to her chest for a few seconds before lifting it up to her lips for a quick kiss, letting it fall onto the flames. She watched how the fire consumed her written words for a moment and went back to stand next to her friend.

She didn’t give him any indications as to what to do, simply choosing to let her hands fall in front of her, right hand twirling the ring on her left middle finger, eyes never leaving the flames. Eddie took her solemn silence as permission to approach the metallic can, kneeling on one knee and dropping his card inside. It was a strange feeling, he reckoned, to be sharing such an intimate and private moment with Dottie, and yet knowing that his words would never be read by her or any other person. Whatever he’d said in his letter was between him and the wind that he hoped would reach his Mom’s ears. I guess that’s the point of the ritual, he thought, moving back to his spot next to the pensive girl.

“It’s my fault,” she mumbled, gaze still stuck to the orange dancing in front of them and yet so far away from what she was actually seeing. “It’s my fault she’s dead.”

He turned to look at her, eyebrows meeting in the middle. Eddie had never seen her look so defeated. He wondered how he’d never noticed it before: the weight of the guilt she was carrying on her shoulders, the deep seated shame in the pit of her stomach that felt all too familiar to him, the vacant space within her eyes. It was like looking into a mirror that he’d been trying to ignore for so long. He reached out to her, his right hand wrapping around her left, rings brushing against each other’s, and squeezed tightly.

“She knew she was sick while she was pregnant and delayed her treatment for me. I killed her.”

“Dot, you know that’s not right.”

“Isn’t it? She knew it was me or her, and she chose me,” she held on tighter to his hand. “Sometimes… god, sometimes I wish she’d chosen herself instead. And it’s not that I want to be dead, I swear it’s not about that, but… it wasn’t fair. Not to her, not to my Dad. And it wasn’t fair to me either.”

“It’s my fault my Mom’s dead,” Eddie said, moving his fingers to intertwine with hers. She turned to him, both sets of wet brown eyes finding each others’ in the backyard. “It was the last day of preschool before the Winter holidays and I wanted pizza, so she went out to go get it. A drunk guy ran her over. She never saw it coming. My Dad wasn’t even in town. She died alone on the side of the road and with a fucking 2x1 pizza coupon in her coat pocket.”

“Eddie, you couldn’t have known. That wasn’t your fault-”

“It wasn’t yours either but you’re still gonna blame yourself for the rest of your life, aren’t you?” his lower lip trembled and they both squeezed tighter. The skin stretching over their knuckles was as white as the bellflowers in the kitchen. “They were adults, they made their own choices but you’re always gonna think about what you could have done differently, even if you didn’t know how to wipe your own ass yet.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” she insisted. “That drunk asshole should be to blame, not you.”

“It wasn’t your fault either,” he said, matching her intensity. “You didn’t make her sick, that just happens sometimes and it’s no one’s fault.”

“It is! It’s my fault she didn’t get the treatment she should have gotten!”

“And it’s my fault my Mom was out there that night because I wanted pizza,” he lifted the hand that wasn’t holding onto hers and cupped the side of her face, thumb brushing away an angry tear. “If you’re not gonna stop blaming yourself, then I won’t stop either. You can’t have it both ways, Dot. Either we both move on, or we stay here together because fuck if I know who else to talk about this shit with.”

“It’s not fair,” she pouted, head falling forward until it hit his chest, his hand sliding into her hair.

“No, it’s not,” he agreed, taking a deep breath.

There was nothing else to be said, nothing left to clarify or explain. There were no words to soothe the pain, because it was so embedded into who they were as people that no amount of comfort would ever patch up the wounds that had healed badly and left deep scars that would never completely disappear. Margaret and Maureen were no longer there, and Eddie and Dottie had to move on. They weren’t sure how, and by God if they hadn’t tried  to do so all these years, but it felt a lot easier to forgive yourself when someone else was walking down that road with you.

Dottie sobbed quietly against Eddie’s chest, head bowed with his right hand tangling into her curls, cupping the back of her head. Eddie let his own tears fall, his cheek pressed onto her crown, thumb brushing the exposed skin behind her ear. In the silence filled with paper and wood crackling inside the paint bucket, they thought about how much they longed for something they couldn’t even remember having, and how their rusty padlocks were starting to fall limp at their feet. How even when their brains were miles away from their bodies, they still anchored each other down, hearts beating in sync and hands holding hands, Eddie’s thick mood ring on his right hand clashing against Dottie’s only dainty band; her Mom’s engagement ring glinting on her left middle finger.

Suddenly, she startled him by laughing softly through her tears, bringing their joined hands between their chests. He peered at her face curiously, waiting for her to speak.

“She would have fucking loved you,” she said, looking up at him with a big smile and shining eyes.

“Yeah?” he smiled back.

“I told my Auntie Rachel about you, and she said that she wants to meet you. That you remind her of my Mom.”

“I do?”

“It’s because she was the glue. She was the one that introduced everyone in the group, they are all friends because of her. And that’s what you do for us with Hellfire. You’re our glue.”

“You know,” he stopped his sentence to chuckle. “Wayne said something like that about you too.”

“Yeah?”

“He said that you boss me around like my Mom did with him,” he laughed. “And that you always tidy up his coffee table like she did.”

“That’s so embarrassing,” she laughed with him.

“I think Wayne likes you more than he likes me,” he whispered conspiratorially. “But I know my Mom would have loved you too.”

“Eddie? If I wanted to get a tattoo to honor my Mom-”

“I’m taking you to get it when you turn 21. It’ll be your birthday present, I promise. Just… wait until you’re 21 so I can take you to a nice shop, because mine look really awesome but it’s honestly a miracle I’m not dead,” she snorted loudly. “I’m serious! I don’t think the guy washed his hands since he came back from Vietnam.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll wait. But you gotta promise we’ll still be friends in three years.”

“Oh, princess, I’m a ride or die. No getting rid of me now, sorry.”

“Good. Didn’t want to get rid of you anyways.”

While Dottie was inside setting up the TV to watch The Wizard of Oz, Eddie excused himself to the backyard for a smoke. He ran through everything that had happened between them that week, starting with their argument about his moldy ceiling all the way until the last ten minutes when she was still buried in his arms. Being vulnerable wasn’t something that came easy to Eddie; he was way too used to covering everything up in leather and sarcasm, but now that he’d started shedding the layers, it was surprisingly liberating to keep going, especially when he kept being rewarded by Dottie letting down her barriers too. He was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn’t realize James had slipped out into the backyard too and was walking towards him, glancing at the pile of ashes at the bottom of the metallic can.

“She got you to join her ritual?” James asked, coming to a stop next to the younger man who was smoking under the patio roof.

“It was interesting. I enjoyed it,” he said, the right corner of his lips twitching upwards into a soft smile. He offered his pack of cigs to James, who shook his head, hands in his pockets.

“No, thank you. Haven’t smoked in years.”

“I should probably stop smoking but it’s hard when my Uncle does it too.”

“I know what you mean, my parents are smokers,” James said, nodding. “I only stopped because Maggie got pregnant and she hated the smell on my clothes. Said it made her want to throw up.”

“Dot hates it too,” Eddie chuckled. “She’s always wrinkling her nose when we smoke near her.”

“She does it to my mother too, don’t take it personal.”

Eddie didn’t really know what else to say so he stayed quiet, busying himself with his cigarette. He knew Dottie hated the fact that he and Donny smoked, but despite that, she’d never told them to not do it. Instead, she moved around them to stand next to Gareth or Jeff, away from the wind that blew the smoke into her space until they were done indulging in their vices. She had never complained about the smell either; the only time they’d heard her say anything negative about it was when she said that her Grandma liked smoking inside her kitchen while sitting next to an opened window and that the smoke made her cough, so Eddie tried not to smoke in the van when he was driving her around. He tapped the butt to the sole of his boot and saved it in the little cardboard box, fully intending on throwing it in the trash when he came back inside when James cleared his throat.

“Eddie, do you mind if we have a talk? Man to man,” he said, his tone friendly but firm.

“Y-yeah, of course. Is there a problem, sir?” Eddie’s palms were sweating. He had seen this coming but didn’t think it would happen so soon.

“No, actually I wanted to thank you,” James began. “Dottie told me what you did for her on Friday, that was… very thoughtful of you.”

“Oh,” he was surprised. “I… You don’t have to thank me. I don’t know if she told you but… I haven’t been a very good friend lately and I wanted to apologize to her. That’s all.”

“Well, either way, thank you. Proms and school dances are… a touchy subject for her, you know? Not a lot of good memories. Just- thank you for making her senior prom special.”

“Of course,” Eddie said, scratching the skin under his watch. “We’ll make sure she has a good prom. And if- if you want us to bring her back at, like, a certain hour, we- we can totally do that too. We’ll look out for her.”

“I know,” the older man smiled at him, noticing how nervous he looked. Eddie might be almost 20 but he was still a little boy trying to impress the father of the girl he liked; James supposed he’d looked the same when he’d started dating Maggie. “You’re good kids, all of you. And Dottie’s never really had good friends before so… if she’s happy, I’m happy.”

“I’m glad. That’s she’s happy, I mean,” he hurried to say. “Not that she had bad friends before. That part sucks, she’s… she’s great and I’m glad I- glad we got to meet her and… stuff.”

“You all mean a lot to her, but you… You’re very important to her. You know that, don’t you, Eddie?” James said, and Eddie felt very much like he was being tested.

“She’s important to me too, sir.”

James smiled, satisfied with the boy’s answer. He understood now the glee his father-in-law felt whenever he made him squirm, it was very enjoyable. It was in good faith though, Roger had never outright disrespected him, and James didn’t intend on doing it to Eddie either, but he supposed it was his God given right to mess with the kid a little bit as the father of a teenage daughter. Maybe one day Eddie would understand it too.

“Everything alright?” Dottie said, popping her head out of the kitchen backdoor and looking at the two men standing on the grass with curiosity.

“Yeah, just two guys having a manly talk. You know, about sports and stuff,” James said.

“You only watch sports when the Olympics are on.”

“I also watch the Super Bowl,” he argued.

“You never watch the rest of the season, what’s the point?”

“It’s fun,” he said, turning to Eddie. “Right, Ed?”

“Only reason I watch is because Wayne makes the best spicy wings in Hawkins,” he grinned. “Sorry, sir.”

“You two are missing out,” James shook his head, jesting. “Gonna watch The Wizard of Oz?”

“Yeah, wanna join?”

“Nah, I’m gonna go lay down for a bit. I’ll take a piece of cake though.”

Later that day, when they were hanging out on the couch stuffing their faces full with vanilla sponge and strawberry jam while watching Judy Garland and her merry gang of new friends walk down the yellow brick road, Dottie eyed Eddie suspiciously until he turned to her, whipped cream staining his upper lip.

“Okay, spill.”

“Wha’?” he asked, cheeks full of cake.

“What were you and my Dad talking about outside?”

“Manly stuff,” he swallowed quickly. “Can’t tell you. If you knew, I’d have to kill you, it’s the law.”

“You’re such an idiot,” she giggled, stealing a strawberry from his plate.

He gasped in horror but still let her do it, because she was important to him and he’d do anything to keep that smile on her face, including tearing down the walls he’d carefully built around himself all throughout his life. And hopefully, by shedding that weight, she’d be able to get rid of hers too, and Mo and Maggie could be proud of them for finally moving on.

taglist (comment below or shoot me a dm if you want to be added!): @munsonology @kurdtbean

[gentleeclipsey]

Was it worth it?

I swear to god if this is who I think it is I'm going to lose my fucking mind. I'm going to be brutally fucking honest about my feelings and I don't care, if you decide to read this that's on you. I have blocked you five times, there is a hint and then there's a blatant get the fuck away from me.

But, if you're not who I think you are, in some capacity I'd say yes. Fair warning, a lot of bad stuff mentioned, also a bit of a rant because I've never told anyone outside a few friends who aren't on tumblr. Also I'm sorry, this is gonna be long and disjointed, the whole thing makes me angry to an unnatural degree, I've never been this angry at someone in my life. TL;DR just below the cut:

TL;DR: my ex destroyed my mental state and Trollhunters made me realize that, now I'm single and happier for it. Now onto the rage.

I made a lot of friends despite my partner's actions, and I have characters who I absolutely love, I'm free, I feel good, I'm not scared to be alive. I'd say it wasn't worth all the bullshit I put up with. I'm angry at myself because I was so spineless, even now I still can't fucking make heads or tails of half the shit that happened.

I don't care anymore. They'll always see me as a horrible person, I did my best and I was never enough, I'd never be enough no matter how much I tried. No matter how many times I cried, no matter how many times I had to hide things from myself so I wouldn't leave new marks, no matter how many times I apologized, it'd always be my own fault and at this point I've just accepted I was fucking pathetic and horrible and I don't care. I had to spend every waking fucking moment catering to them, talking to them, and they'd get angry because I wouldn't realize what was wrong and I wouldn't fucking pry it out of them and bend over backwards for days to make them feel better. I had to ask for a break somewhere in the middle because between classes, work, and them, I was so fucking overwhelmed and I tried to explain it to them but they didn't believe me or didn't care but every time they had the chance they'd rub my face in the fact they were so hurt over the fact I needed a break to regather myself.

Mind you, their pain was more important than mine. When I first had Jackie, she was my favorite OC. I loved using her, I still do, but they hid their feelings about her for so long that when they told me they didn't like her and called my emotions toxic for being upset. When they tried to rub that break in my fucking face again I told them about the absolute painful hurt I felt over what they told me and most essentially they basically told me that pain didn't mean anything because it wasn't like their pain. I was fucking trying to craft her to be appealing to them, to make her what they wanted so we could just be happy again but they fucking threw all that out the window.

Wanna hear the best part? I couldn't fucking talk to anyone outside of them publicly, even to use Jackie with others despite the fact they hated her. I have Sage to thank, because they were the first person I interacted with publicly that made me start seeing my partner for who they were. They got so fucking mad over a short text RP, later told me they wanted me to make friends, then fucking went back on it and fucking got upset because I apparently treated people I talked to casually better than them.

They rubbed my face in the fact they had breakdowns in public because of shit they started. When I'd pass out they'd get quiet with me and have a short temper but if they passed out I had to be understanding. If they vanished for days at a time I wasn't allowed to be upset but if I vanished they'd have a fucking breakdown. I made myself be so understanding to them becsuse they were sick and they never fucking thought twice. Never. Because I wasn't sick like them that meant I always had to be perfectly fine. Always. Perfectly. Fucking. Fine. They admitted to me they tried to train me. Train me. Like I'm a dog. Like I'm a fucking dog. I cannot begin to tell you the absolute whirlwind of rage I felt in the moment I read that but I kept my head by some fucking miracle.

Trollhunters is what broke the back of all the shit that'd been happening. It started with Undertale, it ended with Trollhunters, and they took my fucking OC from me and told me for years that that OC wasn't mine exclusively, and now I don't have a fucking choice. I can't even begin to describe the absolutely disgusting anger I feel over the fact I literally can do nothing to get my OC back because they've told me for years she wasn't mine and I can't fucking remember anything clearly and I doubt myself constantly now. I cannot begin to describe the absolute disgust it makes me feel I can't do anything to fucking get my OC back and that I hate more of my OCs because of their bullshit.

To contact a fucking artist, an amazing, wonderful person fucking 5 years later and say that I stole their OC and to take down the art? What the fuck. Funnily enough, I have Jackie most specifically to thank for making me realize! Wanna know what the fuck they said to me? "I was upset because I felt you loved her more than me." I WISH I WAS FUCKING LYING. I have so few screenshots but Jesus fucking christ I cannot explain to you the absolute seriousness in which that was stated.

I cannot even begin to describe the anger I feel over everything that happened. Not in the fucking slightest. They always accused me of not loving them anymore, of hating them, when they first started saying that it wasn't true, but now I can't fucking stand the idea of them anymore. I hope they see all the shit I do now, how much I draw Jackie being happy despite their shit.

So yeah. I have Trollhunters and Jackie to thank for helping me realize how bad things had gotten, because if it weren't for my absolute hyperfocus on it I don't think I would've seen what'd happened as soon as I did. There are so many emotions in here I can't describe at all, and I know if they saw this they'd immediately try attacking me publicly. Hell they might see this because I've had to block four fucking accounts already. Five if you count discord.

I feel like I should've taken way more screenshots than I did, but I'm not going to post them, I want to move on from this but I have so much simmering rage over what's happened its taking me a while. They're not in the Trollhunters fandom, at least, they're barely on social media as is aside from lingering accounts. Trollhunters is my safe space now, as is Jackie and my closest friends.

[ourlordapollo]

Okay well. Behold the products of the MvK brain rot that has consumed me these past few days.

(It's 3 oneshots.)

Hey it's about your straw villain. Yeah, a freak with ADHD hyperfixated on him and turned him into a twink. Yeah, they twinkified him. Yeah and theyre not sorry. No yeah you heard that right, they twinkified your straw villain. If it's any consolation, if you look really closely, you can see the monster he's destined to become.

Anyway @musashi thanks for the karma brainrot. It shows up a bit at the end there.

Rambling: Okay so the first oneshot is thematically distinct from the other two. The other two are all Twinkfred and some OCs.

Can't believe I have to say this but some of the characters in this work of fiction express views that I do not agree with and say things that aren't true. If that very concept blows your mind, this is not the fic for you.

Lastly, this is kind of a disjointed mess rn but I have an idea for a longer, more cohesive narrative i just don't have time for that kind of commitment rn. This is not the last of Twinkfred.

Content Warnings: one (1) very brief mention of hypothetical physical abuse, one (1) scene of not-upsetting dubcon kissing & grinding, alcohol use, non-graphic depiction of at-home ear piercing

1.

Tea soaks into the napkins where Phoenix presses them down. It must be scalding him; it's still steaming, but he doesn't flinch. Not like Miles, who does nothing but flinch. It's not usually so obvious: a sharp glare, an unkind word. It doesn't usually produce a physical result.

"I'm sorry, Miles," Phoenix says, and his gaze moves from the damp napkins to Miles' eyes and Miles does not flinch. Does not allow it. Phoenix swallows. "Did..." The weight of his hesitation is so heavy that Miles knows what's coming next, the desperate cry for connection he's trained himself to anticipate and ignore. "Did he ever hit you?"

Slowly, Miles shakes his head.

—

Von Karma's hand has already begun to swell, the skin around the puncture wounds turning deep blue. His sharp cry still hangs in the air, heavy with the raspy authority he uses when training his dogs. Walther licks his palm and von Karma lets him, stilling his shaking hand.

But Miles sees, just for a moment.

"Sir?" Miles doesn't bother asking if he's alright. The answer to that will always be a stern 'of course.'

"Speak, Miles Edgeworth."

"Why..." Even the question feels unimaginably cruel, but Miles persists. "Why didn't you hit him?"

Von Karma raises an eyebrow. "Do you think I should have hit Walther?"

"No, sir. But I know that other people hit their dogs when they misbehave." He'd seen it, a little swat on the rear of a dog that yapped at passing cars, an open-palm strike to a dog that pulled on the lead.

"We're not 'other people'," Manfred replies, eyes flashing. His voice makes it clear exactly what he thinks of 'other people.' What Miles should think of them, too. "Do you know what happens when you strike a dog?"

"No, sir."

"You make it afraid."

He pauses, and Miles repeats the word: "Afraid."

"A fearful dog doesn't think. A fearful dog acts without concern for anything but its own immediate safety. It lashes out in irrational panic, mindlessly attacking anything that moves." Von Karma's eyes are far away. "It undermines itself. It destroys. I do not raise frightened dogs."

"I understand, sir," Miles says, trying not to let his voice quiver.

Von Karma looks right through him. "Good," he says, exhaling. "That is good, Miles."

And by his sides, his hands shake.

2.

The neon lights blot out the stars, which is just as well, because Fredi navigates by them tonight, the blinking and the flashing. The music calls to him, the driving thud of deliverance on the promise he'd made to himself.

Berlin would be different.

Clouds of cigarette smoke hang low over the group of people— his people— lingering by the gaping mouth of the club. He goes right in. No identification, no pause. He just walks in.

The music crawls inside him and vibrates under his skin and a thousand bodies move in tandem, rocking him deeper and deeper into their midst.

The lights flash, illuminating intertwined couples of all genders, wearing all sorts of clothing. All the things he'd promised himself. But still, his heart stops when he sees two men pressed close, their lips locked. What would Father and Mother say?

Hands find him, anchor on his hips. He reaches out reflexively and catches the incoming kiss with parted lips. His back hits the wall. The stranger's tongue is cold against Fredi's own, his palms hot under Fredi's waistband. The strangers thigh slots in between Fredi's, touching him— he freezes.

Everything stops, just for a moment.

In the colored lights, Fredi catches a look of annoyance as the stranger pulls back. "You have to say something if you don't want it," he spits, and staggers off.

The crushing weight of his failure dims the lights in Fredi's eyes— he'd done it wrong. Everyone here seemed to know how already, how to drink and dance. How to be queer.

His hands curl into fists but the stranger is long gone.

He's found again, later, by a bedraggled group who have created their own little atmosphere inside the club.

"How old are you?" someone shouts in his ear

"19," he lies.

This new person grabs his hand and drags him out a side door, where the air cools his skin and the music pulses with less violence.

"Let me ask you that again. How old are you, really?"

"I'm short for my age," Fredi says, glaring.

"17 at the oldest," says another member of the little group, and laughs. "What's your name?"

"Fredi." There's a pause, and he adds, "Fredi von Karma."

More laughter. She smiles. "Not your stage name, sweetheart."

"I like the sound of that," titters a third person. "Von Karma."

Fredi would roll his eyes if he wasn't so used to this conversation. Their family history had not been well-documented, and Father had never uncovered the reasoning for the strange name. "Did you want something?"

"Let us introduce ourselves first!" says the one who had first spoken to him. "Let's be polite, yes? My name is Timo. This is Maren, Zissi, and Wolf."

Wolf howls. Fredi only raises his eyebrows.

He stays quiet for a moment, examining them. Wolf and Timo wear earrings in their right earlobes. Maren and Zissi hold hands, their nails short and rounded. They all wear bright colors, Wolf's shirt unbuttoned low to reveal leather straps forming an X across his chest.

"What do you think?" Timo asks, flexing. Zissi laughs and leans over Maren to swat at him, her pupils impossibly wide.

"What do you want?" Fredi counters.

Timo's jovial manner drops. "To check on you, honestly. When you see a new face, a young face like yours..."

"With lipstick on his cheek," Maren adds.

"I'm fine," Fredi says at once.

"Where are you staying tonight?" Timo counters. "With Mama and Papa?"

Despite all his plans, Fredi hesitates for a second too long. And he'd made plans; he had a little money. It would be easy enough for someone like him to find a job and he'd always been frugal.

"Ah, Fredi, Fredi." Timo slings an arm around him, blowing whiskey-scented breath across his cheek. "Don't think we don't know what this is. You're a long way from Bavaria, you know."

"I know," says Fredi, looking from face to face. They really don't seem to mean him any ill; Wolf is dancing to the beat, Maren and Zissi are kissing.

"I'm just saying, we have a couch you can sleep on. We'll even feed you if you ask nicely."

Fredi swallows. His plan... His perfect plan. He'd spent so long picturing it, his little slice of paradise in Berlin.

His little slice of perfection.

But reality looms with sharper edges, slicing his fantasy to ribbons. He doesn't know what he's doing. He's young and alone in an unfamiliar city, and these people (his people!) have chosen to be kind to him.

Fredi looks at the hoop flashing in Timo's right ear. "I accept."

3.

Zissi says, "Do you know what 'karma' means?"

"Lean your head on my chest" Timo says.

Fredi's head touches down just below Timo's collar bone. Vodka cools his earlobe. "It doesn't mean anything," he says. "There's no such place as 'Karma.'"

"Someone hasn't studied the Eastern religions," Zissi says, like she hadn't dropped out of university after less than a year.

Still, heat flares in Fredi's chest and he spits fire before he can even think of controlling it. "Why should I have?" And how dare she try to make him feel inferior? He has no reason to know anything about Asia.

His reasoning kicks in a second later and he catches her eye and softens his expression.

"This will feel cold," Timo murmurs, pressing ice to Fredi's earlobe.

"Karma is the sword of justice," Zissi says. "That which goes around comes around."

"Like the flu?" Fredi says drily.

"Very funny." Zissi rolls her eyes. "Timo, stab him."

A great pressure and a great release bore in and out of Fredi's numbed earlobe, then an uncomfortable wiggling sensation. A part of his body that had never been touched before is now open to the world.

It is the first piece of metal to pierce Fredi's flesh, but it won't be the last.

"You're sure you want both ears?" Timo asks. "The right ear is the gay ear."

"Both my ears are gay ears," Fredi retorts. It's not quite true, but he's found it's easier to just be one thing at a time. He was straight in Gersthofen; he is gay in Berlin.

"Fine," Timo sighs. "Flip over, then."

Fredi keeps his neck stiff so his ear doesn't press into Timo's chest. The cycle begins again: ice, vodka, ice, vodka. "What do you mean by justice?" he asks to keep his mind off the throbbing pain.

"The things you do, the actions you take, they have a way of finding their way back to you," Zissi explains. "Bad things will happen to bad people and vice versa."

It's a funny coincidence, that some typographical error could align so neatly with Fredi's path. He will be a lawyer and school starts soon. "Karma is the sword of justice," he repeats contemplatively.

The needle drives into his ear.

He barely feels it.

Karma is the sword of justice.

You could make a religion out of that.

[existentialcrisis-24-7]

Roles of the major fairies before/during and after the whole mess with the wizards ? (Sibylla,Aurora,Diana and Nebula)

Are they associated with the elements/have powers over them ? (like earth for Diana and Water for Aurora)

Also when I imagine how earth fairies/witches look , based on how in the show, different fairies look really different to each other (mainly seeing the different outfits of students from the different colleges in season 6)

Like maybe the followers/students of the major fairies have different looks between each other ,but look y’know cohesive as a group with all four of them

Thank you for the ask!

To explain the Major Fairies of Earth, I need to explain a bit about Earth's hierarchy and system of ruling. Earth was a matriarchy, with fairies being once the most common alignment and kinda the only ones actually represented in court. Witches and wizards were few and far between. At the top of the pyramid was the High Queen, next being her direct family as well as her advisor, then the Major Fairies, then Guardian Fairies and various nobility, and then more or less everyone else.

The Major Fairies are both master warriors and master magicians and are sort of like delegates. Think Avatar: the Last Airbender kinda style, with each one representing a certain element and being in charge of Guardian Fairies also representing that element. So in other words, you're completely right about them being based on certain elements.

The Major Fairies represent the following

Morgana - Air

Sibylla - Fire

Aurora - Water

Diana - Ground

In terms of transformations, as a whole transformations differ per person naturally. Even the uniform ones will still look slightly different depending on who has it. That being said, there's some semblance of control you can have over what your transformation looks like which means you can get an army of water Guardian fairies that have very similar outfits in spite of being different people. Transformations can also just naturally change slightly after a while (usually for fairies if they lose their wings it will be replaced with a cape/cloak of some kind or if they had an open back it will usually be covered).

I'm sorry if this feels super disjointed bc I didn't take my meds today and really tired and I definitely didn't proofread this

[saw-x]

I just found it, and I already love your blog. Your gifs are very quality, and you have great taste.

Even though I'm not a big horror fan myself (thank you for tagging it accordingly), I love Yellowjackets. Natalie was my fave, and even though I'm a grown-ass 40 years old woman, I was so upset by her death that I dreamed the following night that they could save her. I agree with you that season one was better, even though I liked season two as well (Natalie's death was an exception, they did Misty very dirty with it, and that random attack by Lisa was weird and didn't feel inherent).

I knew Lottie wasn't the Antler Queen, but I was in the dark who was supposed to be then, did you know it, or have you guessed it, bc it came to me in surprise. :)

So yeah, my rant is over, and I'm sorry if I bored you but I needed this out of my system.

Keep up the good work, and please tag horror further as it is!

Hi - first of all thank you for sending this ask it's always lovely to have nice messages like this and you definitely didn't bore me 🥰

I am still pretty upset about Nat's death as well and I agree the whole thing was very weird and felt contrived. I understand if Juliet wanted out of the show (which I have suspected since some of the comments she made in season 1, which made me think Natalie dying was a big possibility) but I just wish they had taken actual care and respect to the character when killing her off you know? It all feels mean spirited and disrespectful to me, which is crazy since apparently they had a meaner cut where everyone on the plane laughs at her (wtf?)

I was pretty surprised by Nat being the antler queen and I thought it was an interesting turn of events. In general I still quite enjoyed the first half of season 2, but around episode 5 or 6 I started to find the show a lot less enjoyable and felt like there were a lot of problems with the season and its pacing. For example, I really enjoyed Tai's character in season 1, but I feel her storyline in season 2 was really lacklustre and a lot of her agency was taken away. Everything is explained away as a 'dark, other tai' which feels lazy and kinda feels like backtracking since I feel the implication in the season 1 finale was that she did a ritualistic sacrifice to win the senate race. I would've liked them to explore a bit more of her as a senator since they spent much of season 1 on the senate race and I also find it so weird that Simone is literally never seen again in the season after she was shown in a coma. Character motivations also feel all over the place and I feel like the characters in the adult storyline have big swings in their behaviours which feels weird since that storyline for the season only spans a week.

These are just a couple of examples where I feel the storytelling and pacing just feels really disjointed. I've heard that they originally had 10 main episodes and a lot was cut from the season, and I think the season really suffered from this (I'm not referring to the bonus cabin episode). So yeah... sorry I ranted a bit in return.

[solarmorrigan]

For the Newmann prompts, how about either #16 or #24, whichever catches your fancy!

Thank you!

Ah! Thank you very much for the prompt! I'll admit to seriously wanting to write both numbers, but in the end I only had the time/energy for one :/ I enjoyed writing it, though, so I hope you enjoy reading it (if you're still around; I'm sorry it took a bit!)

#24: “You’re the only one I trust to do this.”

-

It happens for the first time when they’ve been stationed at the Hong Kong Shatterdome for nearly three years.

A knock comes at Hermann’s door far later than could be considered polite, and as he makes his way over, Hermann can only assume there’s been some kind of emergency.

Instead, upon looking through the peephole, he finds Newton standing on the other side.

With a frustrated huff, Hermann opens the door, but the pointed remark about manners dies on his tongue when he gets a better look at the man on his doorstep – Newton’s eyes are red-rimmed and wet behind crooked spectacles, his face is pale where it isn’t blotchy, his shoulders are tensed up nearly to his ears.

He looks terrible.

“What’s happened?” Hermann asks, low-level anxiety already shoving the frustration away.

Newton shakes his head. “Nothing. Nothing happened.” He gives an entirely unconvincing little laugh that is followed by what is probably meant to be a discrete sniffle. “I know it’s late, but I, uh. I wanted to talk to you because I had an idea? Can’t – can’t pick when brilliance strikes, right? And I need to, uh– sound it out. Like, now. If… you don’t mind.”

As an excuse, it is deeply unconvincing, if only because Newton has never before asked if Hermann would mind before he barges into his space or starts spouting incomprehensible biological terms, but being as something is clearly wrong, Hermann steps aside.

“Thanks,” Newton mutters, crossing the threshold quickly, as though he thinks Hermann might change his mind and send him away after all.

He’s dressed for bed, Hermann notes, in a threadbare t-shirt and flannel pajama bottoms, the cuffs of which are stuffed into the tops of his boots, the only concession Newton has made to appropriate attire for leaving one’s quarters. It does make Hermann feel a little less underdressed in his own pajamas and dressing gown, however, so he finds he doesn’t mind much.

Hermann offers Newton the desk chair, the only place to sit aside from the bed, and Newton thanks him but doesn’t take it. Instead, he begins to pace the small room, radiating nervous energy as he cuts glances at Hermann.

“So, uh. Yeah, I’ve been thinking about – about this sample I just got in. Old shit, but they did a pretty good job preserving it. But, yeah. No, um – I’ve been studying it… obviously. And I’m thinking…”

What follows is a ramble that, even to Hermann, who has not made a habit of studying any kind of biology outside of what he’s absorbed from Newton’s impromptu lectures in the past, sounds like disjointed nonsense. It’s full of prevarication, unrelated observations, and occasional segues into the definitions of basic terms. If it had been turned in as a written assignment, Hermann would have given it a “D” at best.

It isn’t about the content, though, Hermann realizes after five straight minutes of bafflement. As Newton paces and waves his arms and fidgets with his hands with such intensity that Hermann is briefly concerned he may dislocate one of his own fingers, Hermann realizes that what Newton is really doing is working through the final stages some sort of anxiety attack.

There is a desperate edge to his voice, the barest hint of a tremble, and he scarcely even pauses for breath, as though he fears something will happen if he stops talking.

Hermann has absolutely no idea why Newton’s come to him, of all people, in the midst of his panic, but he tries not to disappoint. As much as he and Newton pick and prod at one another, there are some things that must be considered separate from their usual feuding. So Hermann pays attention, hums when it seems appropriate, asks questions when it seems Newton is running out of steam and devolving into anxious stuttering, and waits for Newton to wind down.

He does, eventually, sinking into the desk chair that had been offered to him some time prior and continuing to babble intermittently, until he is more sleepy silences than chatter.

“It’s late,” Hermann finally says, stifling a very real yawn. “I think we ought to get to bed.”

“Yeah.” Newton nods, a bit dazed but no longer vibrating. “Yeah. Thanks for, uh – listening.”

“Of course.” Hermann pauses, considering whether he ought to add any more, but he eventually just allows himself to remain in awkward silence.

Newton quirks an odd little smile at him, and goes.

Hermann expects it to be a one-off sort of event – that Newton came to him in a fit of desperation when, for some reason, he had nowhere else to turn.

This does not turn out to be the case.

Newton continues to show up at Hermann’s door, usually later than Hermann would prefer, though he never denies Newton. Sometimes it happens as frequently as once a week, sometimes it does not happen for months at a time. Hermann cannot help but look for a pattern, though he is no psychologist, and finds hints of one in the turns of Newton’s moods, in the rising tension within the PPDC, in the amount of funding and leeway K-Science is given – or denied.

What Hermann cannot fathom, however, is why Newton comes to him at all.

Hermann is notoriously impatient with high levels of emotion, and, as Newton himself has pointed out on multiple occasions, Hermann isn’t a “people person.” He isn’t ashamed of this, not after years of building up armor against the jabs people make about it, but he has found it’s made him… less approachable, over the years. Yet Newton comes to him when he is anxious and vulnerable and is inexplicably soothed by him.

Though Hermann tries to provide whatever it is Newton is looking for when he turns up in the night, he can only go on so long before his curiosity gets the best of him.

“Why do you come here?” Hermann asks one evening, breaking the silence that usually settles once Newton has tired himself out.

Slumped over in the desk chair and fiddling with one of Hermann’s wooden hand puzzles, Newton glances over at Hermann. “Huh?”

“I asked why you come here,” Hermann says again.

This time, Newton snorts, looking back to the desk. “I thought that was kinda obvious, man. I have… like, sort of severe anxiety issues. ‘Cause of, y’know, the bipolar, and the general stress, and also the world is ending, and, like–”

“I know all of that,” Hermann snaps. “I mean… here. Why do you come here?”

Newton shrugs. “Because you’re here.”

As if it’s that simple.

“Why me?” Hermann asks quietly.

Newton shrugs again, but he’s staring very pointedly at the pieces of puzzle he’s spread over the surface of Hermann’s desk. “You’re the only one I trust to do this.”

“And what is ‘this’? What is it that I do?” Hermann has been dying to know, if he’s honest – what could he possibly be doing that Newton finds solace in?

“You just… you’re here. You watch out for me while I get my brain back together. You’re, uh. Present, I guess, when I can’t be.” Newton glances over at Hermann, a furtive look from beneath his lashes, cagey and uncertain. “No one else would do that for, y’know… me.”

“Ah,” is all Hermann can think to say for a moment.

“Yeah,” Newton says.

“I’m… glad,” Hermann finally manages. “That I can be of some help.”

This time, Newton says nothing, but sends Hermann another of those, queer, tired little smiles.

When Newton goes back to his own quarters, Hermann finds himself oddly disappointed to see him go. For one mad moment, he wonders if, sometime in the future, he might just tell Newton that he’s welcome to stay – stay the night, stay in Hermann’s room. That’s if it helps Newton, of course, but also because Hermann has grown strangely protective over these nights between them. Possessive, suddenly.

These nights are theirs.

But these are thoughts, Hermann decides, best examined when not in a haze of exhaustion. He lays down to sleep and vows to think it through some other time.

[steelycunt]

Ridi, I am so sorry that I just saw your new fic! I read it as soon as possible - with many breaks because christ my heartstrings are going to break soon when your not carefull! - and I really regret forgetting my ao3 login, but I'll tell you what I love about this one here, I suppose.

Remus folds the newspaper in half, watches the last of his milk marbling his tea for a moment, before stirring it in (white mug, yellow-and-black Wolverhampton Wanderers F.C. logo—Sirius found it in a charity shop, presented him with it back in Talgarth: look—wolves, Moony, wolves!). There’s not quite enough, so it’s still a deep, dirty brown; the colour of tobacco. His shower this morning ran cold.

This is such a perfect picture for the quiet misery that eminates from r in this fic, like fog eminates from the sea, I want to hug him. And the wolves! And s getting him a mug!

The part of Remus he keeps muzzled often considers himself lucky that his mother will never have to bury him.

God, oh god. I might like rs grief in this more than anything else.

A Welsh women calls him annwyl when he offers her his seat on the one-seven-seven bus to Peckham. It dislodges something important, and when he gets off at his stop, he starts to cry.

This reminds me so much of when someone called me "deern" (just "young lady" in low german, does not sound like the animal in English) after my grandpa died and I started bawling right that second.

R comparing s to paintings is such gay nerd behaviour I am going to get sick if I dwell on it for too long. But also r 🤝 me re: comparing our crushes to paintings.

I loved the friendships between the four of them so much!!!!! And the coin thing for j and s?? Just- won der full!!!!

And r feeling so awfull about his crush/being gay is so heartbreaking (and perfect. Having a crush on your friend is so hard)

R hating apperition is also wonderfull.

And well, now I have to ask how do you pronounce remus without enlonging the E?

R and s being from completly diffrent worlds is shown in so many wonderfull little details I just- the household magic!!!

This is so disjointed - sorry for that!! I love your writing style do much! It's subtile in a very charming way! And you have a way of weaving in detailes without losing focus that's very impressive.

agnes omg hi love hello!! not at all this is such a. sweet message to open my inbox to my god!! i'm so glad you liked it!! i think you definitely picked out the sort of. quiet little misery he carries about with him while muddling along in this one :-) both for s and for his mum! i really enjoyed writing the bits about his mum honestly they were super fun in a sad sort of way and just not something i get to write about an awful lot (<- says guy who has full autonomy over what they write). he is SUCH a little freak about describing s also i. got a ton of art books for christmas and i found id keep trying to describe him and a specific image id seen in one of them would come to mind so i just thought hm okay. guess that's what he'll do. i feel like you mentioned quite a few of my little. favourite bits i had when i was writing like the little details and objects which are honestly my favourite things to put in (in my planning document i'll have a plan for a scene which will literally just say something like: BIKE GREASE or TATTOO) which i could probably talk about for far too long about but just!! thank you so much bab this is so lovely :-))

[i-am-a-closet-fanfic-fiend]

As It Should Be ~ Lucy x Caspian

A/N: Hello lovelies, so this is well out of my wheel house. But thanks to Shadow and Bone I am well and truly back on my Ben Barnes Bullshit. Which included re-watching the Narnia movies and then I had some feels. I'm completely ignoring the books and this is way AU but I couldn't get it out of my head. So if there's any Lucian shippers out there, this ones for you. Spoilers for the movies.

Summary: Lucy had not been ready to leave Narnia. And Caspian had not been ready for her to go. Perhaps fate still had a plan.

Characters/Pairings: Lucy Pevensie/Caspian (everyone is of age, time works funny between the realms); Edmund Pevensie, Aslan

Warnings: Fluff, a little bit of angst, pining, spoilers for the movies.

Word count: 5800 (I don't know how it happened. I just had a lot of feels)

Caspian’s voyage on the Dawn Treader had been a success on all counts. But in spite of his resolve to be a great king of Narnia and to treasure the lands and people he had been chosen to rule, the young king was sorrowful on their return journey. His crew had known better than to question him when he returned alone from Aslan’s country. Drinian put a comforting hand on his shoulder, and Caspian clasped it for a moment before giving him a meaningful nod. Drinian got the Dawn Treader sailing for home while Caspian ducked below deck for just a moment to mourn the loss of his friends. When he returned, his smile was not quite so bright as it had been when the king and queen of old had been on the ship.

The crew was happy to be going home, but they also felt the loss of their companions quite acutely. It had taken no time at all for them to love Lucy and Edmund. The younger of the Kings and Queens of old were kind and hardworking and had immediately treated them as old friends. Narnia they supposed was their great love. And while Eustace had taken some extraordinary circumstances to warm up to, he too was missed, and they all found the ship far too silent with Reepicheep’s running commentary.

Their return took nearly six months as they returned all those who had been taken by the mist to their home islands. So, while the crew was joyous to be returning home after nearly two years, everyone was weary when they finally docked on the shores beneath Cair Paravel. Drinian directed the landing team, as more sailors came to help them unload. Caspian gazed up at Cair Paravel in all its glory. It had been mostly restored before he departed, but now, it was back to its true grandure, he wished Lucy and Edmund could have seen this.

He had only a moment before his advisors were upon him, welcoming him back and informing him that a feast was already being prepared for his return. They clamored for his attention, luckily with good news. They each were reporting that peace remained and things had grown even more bountiful in the past six months. Caspian listened carefully making notes on what to discuss with them tomorrow, before finally excusing himself to clean up before the feast.

After what could only be described as the most delicious meal he’d ever had, Caspian took his time reacquainting himself with the halls of his castle. During his time away, the team in charge of the interior restoration had finished all of their projects, which included the portraits of the Pevensies at the height of their rule. He inspected each one closely, trying to find the familiar features of his friends in the older faces.

For the most part he could see it. Although it was odd to see them at that age - all older than his 23 years. Well, all but Lucy. She had been just shy of 21 when they tumbled back through the wardrobe. She was the only one who never mentioned how hard it was to go from being an adult back to being an 8 year old. But he suspected that she struggled more than she let on, though she would never tell her siblings while they suffered their own distress. His thoughts lingered on the youngest of the great kings and queens. He couldn’t help but wonder if his dear friend would look the same when she reached 20 again.

Her portrait hung beside her sister’s and one could easily spot the differences. Susan held a quiet beauty, befitting her title of Gentle. But even the stillness of a portrait could not tame Lucy’s wild beauty and adventurous spirit. He knew well the twinkle of excitement the artist had captured. It was one that never failed to bring a smile to his face.

Caspian had been captivated by Lucy during their time on the Dawn Treader. More than he’d been willing to admit, even to himself. Though he suspected Edmund had seen it. He’d even expected a brotherly talk at one point, since Peter was absent. But he merely smiled, and took every opportunity to let them be together. Drinian had also made more than a few subtle comments, but Caspian had chosen to remain silent.

While the young prince had had eyes only for Susan upon their first meeting in terms of amorous intentions, Lucy’s unwavering faith and goodness had endeared her to him. When she stood across the river with only a dagger in her hand, facing down an army with a smile he could see why she of the four was the Valiant. She was amazing, even at age 11.

Her return 3 years later, had only deepened that opinion. She had matured and Caspian found himself lost in her. He’d been telling the truth when he told her that he hadn’t found a queen as beautiful as Susan, but what he left out was that there had been none as fierce as her either.

The pair had spent every possible moment together – stargazing, checking maps, telling stories. He loved her stories. Queen Lucy the Valiant had truly been a queen of her people. While her siblings had often been on the frontlines of battle, Lucy had always been protecting the people – evacuating them, learning from the healers how to dress wounds that didn’t require her cordial. She was the most beloved of the four, even in the stories Caspian had heard before he met them. Though she would refute that claim a thousand times over.

Other stories were filled with tales of dancing with fauns and dryads. Mr. Tumnus was a frequent character, and Caspian could hear the heartache in her voice when she spoke about him. He would often take the opportunity to squeeze her hand in comfort, which she also responded to with a grateful smile. Edmund would often join in, offering tales of his own or teasing Lucy.

One time in particular, he felt the need to remind her of the time a suitor had come to court and she had been so used to dancing with the fauns during their revelries that she panicked when he had offered his hand for a formal dance.

“All you could hear in the ballroom was Tristan grunting and Lucy apologizing,” Edmund chuckled.

Lucy’s cheeks flamed red and she glared at her brother for a moment, before a smirk slid across her features.

“At least I didn’t end up in a fountain after my first kiss,” she shot back.

Edmund’s cheeks tinged ever so slightly, but his expression was wistful.

“She was lovely. And it was worth it. I hope she had a good life.”

“I’m sure she did. But I’m sure she missed you.”

The siblings shared a look, regrets and memories flowing through their minds. Once again, Caspian was struck by how much life and loss these two “children” had experienced.

Later that night, after confirming their course with Drinian, Caspian was ready to retire to the barracks area for a few hours of sleep. But as he passed his quarters which he had given to Lucy, he heard humming. Moving as quietly as he could, he neared the cabin, noting the slightly ajar door. Caspian couldn’t help the smile that crossed his lips as he watched Lucy dance to her own tune as she looked in the mirror, the steps somewhat disjointed. He slipped inside, leaning against the doorjamb, making sure she couldn’t see his reflection.

“Would you like a partner?” he finally asked.

Lucy jumped at the unexpected voice, whirling as her cheeks filled with color upon realizing she’d been caught.

“Caspian! I was just… Edmund made me remember and I thought I’d practice.”

“In case we have a ball on the Dawn Treader?” he asked, grinning wildly at her.

“Of course. I’ve been to many balls on ships,” she giggled before sobering slightly. “No, but there’s dances back home. And I’ve never been, but I suspect they don’t much care for the type of dancing the fauns and dryads do.”

The mention of home twisted in Caspian’s gut, but he pushed the thought away. He would enjoy what time he had with her. Each moment was a gift.

“Well, I don’t know how they dance in your world, but it always helps to have a partner. May I?”

She nodded, uncharacteristically shy.

He snapped to attention and made a formal bow, which made her laugh but she curtsied anyway before taking his hand. He pressed a quick kiss to her knuckles, before placing her hand on his shoulder. His right hand fell to her waist, he his left clasped hers firmly.

“’Ready?”

“Absolutely?”

He wasn’t positive, but they both sounded breathless.

He began to hum, counting the beats by gently tapping his fingers against her side. He gave it a count of 8 before he began to move. It was rough at first, they were both out of practice… and nervous if he was being honest. But after a few crushed toes, they found their rhythm and soon they seemed to float. Caspian waltzed her around the room, twin smiles adorning their faces. Before they knew it, they were simply swaying in place gazing into each other’s eyes.

“I wonder if Susan is dancing like this with her naval officer,” Lucy wondered aloud, regretting it the moment it slipped past her lips. “Oh, I’m sorry, Caspian. I wasn’t thinking.”

He chuckled and shook his head.

“Don’t worry, Lucy. I’m not upset. I’m happy that your sister is moving on with her life. No one deserves to be alone.”

“But you’re alone,” Lucy pointed out.

Not cruelly, more confused by his logic.

“I’m not alone right now. I’m with you.”

And I will take that, he thought to himself. Just this moment and whatever else I get.

“Susan and I are worlds apart. In more ways than one,” he added slyly.

Lucy gazed up at him, no longer swaying at all.

“Caspian, I-“

At that moment, the ship lurched sending her crashing into his arms. It lurched again and sent them both to the floor. A storm had reached them and they heard the crew members racing about on deck. They shared one more moment before sprinting into action.

“Your majesty.”

His chief advisor’s voice jostled Caspian from his memories.

“Lord Pallburn. How can I help you?”

“You requested updates on the refugees and the five lords.”

“Of course. We shall speak on the way to my chambers.”

Caspian shot one last look at Lucy’s portrait before leading his advisor away.

Lucy sighed quietly as she watched the happy couple spin around the dance floor.

Years ago, on a ship a world away, Lucy had been held like that. Her thoughts strayed to Caspian and his near obsidian eyes. She had thought of him often in the years since. She wondered how long it had been for him.

Was he married by now?

A father?

Dead?

No.

Her heart couldn’t bear that last one. She had to believe Caspian was alive and well and happy or she wouldn’t be able to carry on.

She shook the thoughts away and returned to the view in front of her.

Susan was absolutely radiant in her wedding dress. Her smile lit up the room as Tom held her in his arms, leaning down for a peck as the song ended. They held hands as they exited the dance floor to chat with their friends.

Peter had his younger daughter, Jane, balanced on the top of his shoes as he moved them about in a decent facsimile of a waltz. Lucy smiled as she remembered her oldest brother doing the same with her when she was much younger.

Edmund was sitting with his girlfriend Margaret and their cousin Eustace laughing quite merrily.

With the exception of her cousin, Narnia had taken on the golden tint of a fond memory. But a memory none the less. Her siblings had been content to leave it at that. Lucy could not find it in her to do the same. Narnia had always felt more like home than this world. A fractured childhood would do that to you she supposed. After all she had grown up in Narnia first.

She still knew their customs and constellations better than England’s. But she knew it wasn’t just that. Her heart lay in Narnia, or rather with the King of Narnia. Caspian had a way of making Lucy feel seen when others didn’t.

“Enjoying the party, Lu?”

She nodded as she looked to Edmund who had slipped into the seat beside her.

“It’s wonderful. Everyone is having so much fun.”

“Everyone?”

“I’m having fun,” she insisted, knowing Edmund could see right through her.

“Talk to me.”

She looked again to the dance floor, eyes flitting from couple to couple.

“Do you think that I could ever find that here?”

“Love?”

Lucy nodded again.

“What makes you think you won’t?” he pressed, avoiding her question.

“I can’t imagine finding anyone to share my life with like that. There’s so much I couldn’t tell them. I don’t know how you all do it.”

Edmund hummed in response.

“Narnia meant everything to me. It made me who I am, but the only one who needs to know about it for it to be real is me. And I’m lucky enough that I got to share it with you, and Peter, Susan, and Eustace. Margaret doesn’t need to know what made me the man I am. Only that that man is someone she wants to be with.”

Lucy regarded her brother carefully for a moment. He’d clearly put a lot of thought into this and she appreciated it.

“I guess that makes sense. I guess I’m not ready to admit that Narnia is my past. Even though I have to.”

They were quiet for a moment.

“Is that the only reason you think you won’t find love here?”

Lucy knew where he was going with this, and finally she sighed – more an exhale after holding one’s breath.

“I think I loved him,” she whispered, not needing to specify who “him” was.

“Loved?” he clarified.

“Love,” Lucy corrected.

“He loves you too for what it’s worth. I could see it. Clear as the Northern Sky.”

“I don’t think it matters much. We’re worlds apart now. He’s probably married by now. I’m not sure how I managed it, but it seems I’ve left my heart in Narnia.”

Edmund wrapped an arm around her shoulder and tugged her into his side. She leaned her head heavily against his shoulder.

“What has been lost, can be found. We just need to have faith about these things. You taught me that.”

Lucy smiled at the reassurance.

“Thank you, Edmund.”

“Anything for you. Would you like to dance? We can even pretend we’re at Tumnus’,” he offered.

Lucy shook her head, but smiled more genuinely than she had all night.

“I think I’m going to take advantage of the gardens, and get some fresh air.”

“It’s not like there isn’t air inside,” he joked making her roll her eyes.

“I’ll be back soon.”

Edmund nodded and squeezed her once more before letting her go.

“Be safe.”

Lucy slipped through the crowd unnoticed, as usual. After a few minutes walking through the gardens she happened upon the entrance to a hedge maze. Looking back at the lights of the reception, she took a deep breath and hurried into the maze, following the turns at random.

It couldn’t possibly be big enough for her to actually get lost.

Caspian perched on the rail of his balcony, one knee up as his back was pressed against the palace wall twirling Lucy’s dagger in his hand. If anyone entered his chambers they wouldn’t be able to see him unless they stepped outside. Closing his eyes, he leaned his head back against the stone enjoying the cool breeze off the Eastern Sea. He had chosen this room specifically for the view of the water. It had always calmed him, and now it held an even more special place in his heart.

In the morning, he would return to his duties as king and this journey would leave the forefront of his mind to make room for diplomacy and logistics. And if his advisors had their way, finding a queen. But for now, as the wind whipped around him, he could imagine that he was back on the Dawn Treader. And if he listened closely enough, he could hear Lucy’s familiar humming. He allowed his mind to run wild with memories.

When the humming only grew louder, even after shaking himself from the sweet memories, Caspian grew concerned. Alert now for possible danger, he scanned the grounds for the source of the sound.

The beach was clear. As were the cliffs to the north. But as he turned his gaze to the south, a flash of auburn hair in the garden maze caught his eyes. She was deep within the heart of the garden without alerting the guards which was no easy feat.

Fastening his sword belt on, he sheathed Lucy’s dagger which she had gifted him on the shores of Aslan’s country.

“I think you’ll need this more than I will.”

“It shall never leave my side.”

You shall never leave my heart had remained unspoken.

Not wishing to alert the guards, Caspian scaled down the side of the castle, jumping from the lowest window and rolling to his feet.

The wind was carrying the humming to his ears quite clearly, as though it was actively helping him find the intruder. At the edge of the maze he took a deep breath before stepping inside. He allowed himself to be led through the turns by the voice, although he was nearly certain it must be a trap. Surely it was a siren or some spell luring him with his heart’s desire. But still he pursued her.

A few times it seemed they were just on the other side of the hedge from each other, but he would round the corner and find only a dead end.

Finally, he caught a flash of lavender fabric whooshing around the corner and he sped up as well as he could while maintaining his stealth. Lucy’s dagger fit comfortably in his hand. Peeking around the corner to ensure she was coming, he waited until she had passed by before leaping out and grabbing her, the dagger pressed against her throat.

“Who are you? And what are you doing here?”

She froze in his arms.

“Caspian?”

The woman squirmed in his grip enough to see his face and in his surprise he let her.

“It is you. How on Earth did you get here?” she asked.

“Lucy?” he mumbled as he released her and she turned to look at him, giving him his first good look at her.

“Yes, it’s me. I know I look a bit different. But goodness, you haven’t aged a day,”

“Lucy,” he repeated before dropping the dagger and pulling her into his arms, burying his face in her neck.

She held him just as fiercely as if he would disappear if she let go for even an instant.

“I missed you so much,” he murmured. “I thought of you every day.”

“As did I. How long has it been for you?” she asked as she lifted her head to look at him, unwilling to break their embrace any further.

“Six months and thirteen days.”

Lucy huffed out a little laugh.

“Is that all?”

Caspian already knew it had been much longer for her. Years, he guessed, given how much she looked like her portrait.

“How long?”

“Six years. Four months. Eleven days.”

She’d been counting. In spite of knowing that Aslan’s plans for Narnia did not include her.

“Oh, Lucy,” Caspian sighed.

Years. She had thought of him every day for years. The knowledge made his heart beat faster.

“It’s okay. You’re here now. How on Earth are you here?” she asked again.

Caspian glanced upward, just to ensure he hadn’t been transported to her world, but sure enough his stars remained, twinkling down at him.

“Lucy, you’re in Narnia.”

Whipping her head around to gain bearings she didn’t know she’d lost, Lucy’s expression clouded with confusion.

“But how? I was at the wedding. I just stepped out for a few minutes –“ She paused and shook her head with a serene smile. “Things never happen the same twice,” she murmured. “Or four times I suppose. I’m not sure how it’s happened, but I am glad to be home.”

Caspian’s heart both clenched and soared at the word home. But he was still stuck on the earlier revelation.

“You were at a wedding?”

His mind raced as he took in her demure dress and artful curls.

Six years, his mind screamed. Even if she had thought of him, of course she would have found someone else in that time.

“Yes,” she affirmed absent-mindedly. “Of Susan will be so cross I’ve left her wedding.”

Elation.

“Susan’s wedding?”

“Yes.” Lucy’s face dropped. “Oh, I’m sorry, Caspian.”

“So you are not married?” he asked, ignoring the apology.

Lucy’s laughter was a balm to his soul.

“Goodness, no. Not even close. The closest I’ve come to marriage was holding hands with Dennis Macmillian when we were 17. And even that was mainly because I was slipping on the ice. I’ve never even gone for a stroll with a boy.”

Caspian smiled, pulling back just enough to offer her his arm.

“Well then, please, allow me. It would be a shame to waste such a lovely Narnian evening.”

“So it would,” she agreed, looping her arms through his. “Tell me everything I’ve missed,” she insisted as they walked deeper into the maze.

“There’s not that much to tell you. We’ve only just arrived back to Cair Paravel this morning. It took us several months to return everyone to their homes before we could return. Beyond that, I’ve just received reports of peace in Narnia.”

“That’s wonderful, Caspian.”

“I’m sure your time has been far more interesting. Tell me everything.”

“Longer doesn’t always mean more interesting.”

Caspian shot her a look of disbelief.

“I’m telling the truth. After the Dawn Treader we stayed with Eustace until the end of the War. After that, once Susan, Peter, and our parents returned, I went back to school. I learned how to become a nurse.”

“Did you now?”

“Mhmm. Top of my class even. It’s been fascinating to learn, although I still think the healers here have a better bedside manner. And goodness have there been days where I wished for my cordial on the job.”

“It sounds intense.”

“It is. But I love it.”

Her smile confirmed it.

“It suits you,” he agreed.

“Besides all that, not much has changed for me. I spend most of my time working or with my family, though that’s been difficult of late.”

“Difficult? Why?” he asked with a furrowed brow.

“They’ve all become convinced I’m doomed to become an old maid. Well, not everyone I suppose. Mainly my parents and Susan. Peter would prefer it that way, over protective as he is. And Edmund, well he just wants me to be happy.”

Despite her comments, the fondness she had for her siblings still shone through.

“I’m sure they all want you to be happy.”

“I know that. I just wish they wouldn’t keep trying to set me up. I think falling in love should happen naturally.”

She glanced up at Caspian who was watching her closely.

“As do I. So it sounds to me that you’re turning suitors down left and right.”

“Hardly,” she scoffed. “Although I think Susan believes that she’ll have a better chance at marrying me off now that she’s officially taken. They’ll have to settle for the lesser Pevensie sister.”

Caspian narrowed his eyes at the assertion, footsteps coming to a halt as he turned to face her.

“In what way lesser?”

“In every way,” Lucy laughed humorlessly.

“You are Queen Lucy the Valiant. The most beloved Queen Narnia has ever seen,” he reminded her, continuing on before she could argue with him. “You are amazing. You are in no way lesser.”

His words made her smile but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“That may be who I am here. But in my world, I’m just Peter and Susan’s little sister. An afterthought.”

Caspian hated to hear her talk about herself like that.

“Then everyone in your world must be fools. You are valiant and beautiful in every world.”

Lucy found herself unable to hold his intense gaze.

“I’m not beautiful like Susan.”

He lifted her head up with a finger underneath her chin, forcing her to look at him.

“Perhaps not. But you’re beautiful like you. And brave. And kind. And loving. And a million other wonderful things.”

“No one’s ever seen me the way you do.”

“It’s an honor to know you this way, Lucy.”

He reached up cradling her cheek before sliding his fingers into her hair.

“I love you.”

It was a relief to finally say it out loud, and her smile was well worth it.

“I love you too, Caspian. I have for a long time.”

He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. When he pulled away, he leaned his forehead against hers.

“I was so scared I’d never see you again,” she whispered.

“I was too. I was certain that I’d lost my chance. But you’re here now.”

“I am.” She looked around and somehow he knew she was looking for Aslan. “But I still don’t know why.”

“I’m sure Aslan has his reasons.”

“He usually does,” Lucy agreed with a smile. “I’m sure we’ll figure it out in time. For now…”

“For now, I’m just going to be grateful. And enjoy every second of my time with you.”

“I like that plan.”

They walked through the gardens for a time before Caspian escorted her up to the castle.

Sure enough they spent the next few weeks enjoying their time together. In fact the entire kingdom rejoiced at the return of their queen. But with no indication as to why she was there, soon a quiet anxiety crept in.

Neither Lucy nor Caspian were willing to make too many plans when they didn’t know when she would be returning, so instead they focused on ensuring Narnia was well taken care of. Lucy helped Caspian reinstate the High Council so that every type of creature was represented. Caspian watched in awe as the land flourished and now that everyone had a voice they found it even easier to keep peace. In fact, many days it seemed there wasn’t much ruling to do at all. So he spent more time with his people than ever, which he loved.

And he grew to love Lucy more every day. He knew at some point that she would have to leave, to return to her family, but he also knew that he couldn’t bear to be without her. His decision was made, although he was sure that many would consider it selfish.

Which is why a year after she arrived, Caspian led Lucy into the maze he had found her in.

“This is quite lovely. We haven’t done this in a while. What brought this on?” she asked as they walked.

“Well, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately. And I have a question for you. And I thought this would be the best place to ask it.”

She tilted her head in question, noting the slight nervousness in his voice.

“What kind of question?”

“An important one.”

They had reached the center of the maze and Caspian led Lucy to sit on the edge of the fountain that contained a stone carving of Aslan. He hoped it would bring them the Great Lion’s blessing.

He took both her hands in his as he sat beside her on the edge of the fountain.

“Lucy, my love, ever since I first met you, you have been a source of strength and someone who I have never failed to believe in. On our first adventure I learned never to overlook you, and I am eternally grateful for learning that lesson. Because it allowed me to see you for who you are on our second adventure. On the Dawn Treader, I fell in love with you. And the day I had to say goodbye to you it felt as if my heart would never be whole again. But by the grace of Aslan, you were returned to me. And I have spent the past year falling more and more in love with you. I’m not sure how long we have left in Narnia, but I don’t want to waste another moment without asking you to be my wife.”

She gasped as Caspian shifted down onto one knee.

“There is no other I would bind myself to. I love you, Lucy Pevensie. And my only wish is to have you by my side for as long as you’ll have me. Will you marry me?”

“Of course.”

She tackled Caspian to the ground in a very unladylike move, and kissed him soundly.

“Of course I’ll marry you.”

Caspian’s smile was brilliant as he reached up to cradle her face before pulling her down for another kiss. They reveled in their new engagement alone for a while longer before deciding to return to the castle.

They were nearly out of the maze when they saw a flash of golden fur.

“Aslan?”

Lucy took off after the lion and Caspian was right on her heels. He couldn’t help but wonder at the timing.

They made it back to the fountain and found the lion himself in front of his stone counterpart.

“Aslan, it is you.”

Lucy launched herself at him, burying her face in his fur.

“Hello, dear one.” It came out in a deep rumbling laugh.

Caspian knelt before Aslan, keeping his eyes on the ground.

“Rise, King Caspian.”

“Aslan, what are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to talk to you about your future, dear one.”

Caspian felt unease coil in his stomach.

“My future here or…?”

Lucy took a step back to stand next to Caspian taking his hand in hers.

“That is your decision to make, Lucy. Your heart longed for Narnia when you returned home. You had not been ready to leave it behind. Is that still true?”

She looked to her betrothed and considered her words carefully.

“I could leave Narnia. But I cannot leave my heart. I cannot leave Caspian. Not again.”

Aslan turned his massive head towards the king – looking at him expectantly.

“Caspian?”

The king lifted Lucy’s hand to kiss her knuckles, looking to her as he answered.

“Narnia was the only home I ever knew. But Lucy is the only home I will ever need. I would leave Narnia if she wished me to. If you would allow it,” he added as he finally turned to face Aslan.

“Caspian?” Lucy gasped at him.

Aslan seemed to nod so Caspian continued, looking back to his love.

“Lucy, in the past year we’ve changed Narnia. It is ruled by its people. As it should be. They don’t need a king. But I need you.”

Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes, but there was no mistaking her smile.

“Are you sure?”

“I am,” he assured her.

Lucy kissed him for a moment, before turning to Aslan.

“Aslan, is it possible?”

He huffed a laugh and nodded with a shake of his mane.

“Yes, dear one. It is possible. All is as it should be with Narnia thanks to you. But you both must be sure.”

They shared a look before turning back to Aslan.

“We’re sure,” they said in unison.

“But we must not abandon Narnia this time,” Lucy insisted. “I want to say goodbye properly.”

“Of course. You two can stay as long as you like, you have earned that. When you are ready return to this fountain and take the path behind it.”

They both peeked around as the hedge directly behind Aslan’s statue opened up. If she listened closely Lucy could hear the music of the reception.

“You’ll be returned to when you left,” Aslan answered her unspoken question.

Lucy hugged him again and Caspian joined in this time.

“Thank you, Aslan.”

“Thank you, for all you have done for Narnia. It is better for knowing you, dear heart.”

Lucy and Caspian were married after six months on the day before they stepped down and allowed the high council full rule over Narnia. Surprisingly, no one begrudged them their decision. Narnia was happy and they saw that they could rule themselves and be their own heroes.

Two years to the day after Lucy arrived, they said their final goodbyes to the land that had given them so many gifts, the dearest of which was each other.

Hand in hand they entered the maze and followed the turns to the center. With one last look at the great stone lion, they walked through the hedge behind him, coming out into a dark night. Lucy was once again in her lavender bridesmaid dress. Luckily she had had the foresight to have a suit made for Caspian so he would blend in.

“Shall we?” she asked, excited to see her family after so long. Well so long for her. Just moments for them.

“Are you sure I shouldn’t just wait here until after the wedding? How are we going to explain me just turning up?” Caspian asked, daunted by the new world around him.

It was louder than Narnia, and undeniably strange. Lucy cupped his cheek, and kissed him.

“The evening is nearly over. The others will want to see you. You were at the other party and we ran into each other in the garden. You’re an old friend from our time with the professor. And I insisted that you come say hello and congratulate Susan in person.”

“You’ve thought about this,” he teased, considering the plan in his head.

“Of course. It was the first thing I thought when you threatened me with my own dagger,” she reminded him with a mocking look.

“Oh really?” Caspian chuckled, quirking an eyebrow at her.

“Yes. Right after ‘he’s here. Maybe I get to be loved after all’.”

“You are so loved, my valiant Lucy. And I shall love you forever. In every world.”

She smiled up at him, blissfully happy.

“And I you, Caspian.”

They shared one more kiss before walking hand in hand back to reception. Everything was as it should be.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this. I've got loads of Ben Barnes feels lately and this is how I'm dealing with it lol. Thanks for reading!

[fancykraken]

AU Meme:

1. Jimmy Darmody/Richard Harrow. AU: What if they both lived?

2. Richie Tozier/Eddie Kasprak. AU: What if Eddie managed to live at the end of It: Chapter 2.

Leave an AU and a pairing in my ask and I’ll give you the plot of the fic I won’t write for it.

I'm so, so sorry it's taken me so long to answer this! Please forgive me. 🙏🏻

1. So... this is kinda awkward for me to answer because I don't actually ship Jimmy/Richard beyond them being friends and work buddies. I'm so sorry if this lets you down. However, I do have a bit of an idea of what could've happened and it kind of piggybacks on to sort of similar discussions/ideas that @runn0ft and @portiaadams have shared before, so I cannot take full credit for all of this.

Also, I would like to pimp out @portiaadams amazing fics where Richard does live and will continue to do so. Go check them out, Portia has worked so hard on these fics and deserves all the love:

Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow

Hand in Hand to Hell

(this is kind of a disjointed mess because I wrote it fairly quickly and didn't flesh out a lot of things more. It also still involves Angela dying, which I hate and don't want because I love her, but I'm kind of stumped on how to avoid that yet still get where I want to go. So apologies to Angela 😭)

Jimmy stays in Chicago and things start getting really hostile between him and Nucky after a few years. Old wounds etc are reopened + Gillian is pulling the strings behind the scenes as per usual.

Richard is there and working alongside Jimmy, but he's trying to get out of the game because he's through with it all and wants to settle down.

Like canon, Angela is killed because she's caught in the crossfire of Jimmy's mistakes, so Jimmy goes for revenge but fucks up harder than ever so he has to disappear to keep Tommy and Gillian safe.

So he leaves, and Richard, Gillian, and Tommy move back to AC and things move along like what went on the show. Julia comes into the picture and Richard finally sees a real out to all this. Gillian is fucking up by opening the Artemis club and Richard doesn't want Tommy to be around this anymore so he, with Julia, go to court to fight for custody of Tommy (which he is granted because the whole Artemis club etc and maybe Gillian killed someone, I'm not sure).

Richard, Julia, Paul, and Tommy move to Wisconsin where they count cows along the way.

Life goes on and Julia gets pregs. Tommy is a little miffed, but ends up really loving his little brother/sister/???.

Jump to 1931 where Nucky is killed (by someone, possibly Gillian because she deserves that) and Jimmy comes back out of hiding because he knows that the heat on him and repercussions for his family should be gone. Gillian has kept in touch with him sporadically over the years despite him telling her it's too dangerous.

Jimmy comes back to AC to maybe, idk, help Gillian cover her tracks or something. After he does that and knows 100% it's safe, he goes to Wisconsin and enters back into Richard and Tommy's life.

So Jimmy tries to adjust to Wisconsin life while he gets to know his son and he and Richard become friends outside of all the violence from the past.

Maybe one day Jimmy and Richard are on the porch having some whiskey and Jimmy breaks down thanking Richard for raising his son better than he could ever do with all that's happened. And they hug and life goes on.

2. What do you mean 'if Eddie lived?' He lived. 😂

So, this could go either of two ways. One way where he isn't stabbed or one where he is but survives the injuries he's been given. I don't really have a huge difference from other AU's for either scenario, so it's not going to be too exciting. Also, Stan is alive in this because if Eddie lives then Stan lives as well.

(and I'm going to put the rest under a cut so I don't piss off anyone who may be tired by the length of this reply)

I'm going to go in the direction of Eddie not being stabbed and Richie pulling him away just in time after he's released from the dead lights.

Pennywise bites the dust (in a better fashion than what the movie gave us, I think). Everyone exits the sewers and is shellshocked. When they get back to their rooms everyone kind of separates for a bit to clean up and decompress. Lots of alcohol is consumed. They probably get dinner or something later and they just sit and eat and try to come to terms with everything and also try to help lighten the mood. The energy between Richie and Eddie is different now, things have definitely changed between the two but they can't really figure it out (or they have, they just can't admit it quite yet).

The Losers all go back up for the night and to try and get some sleep. Some are staying an extra day while other's are leaving in the morning (one of them being Eddie).

Naturally, Richie can't sleep because he keeps going over what he saw in the dead lights and also going 'holy shit holy shit, holy shit, I love Eddie. I always knew I loved him but oh my fucking god it's real.' So he gets up and ends up knocking on Eddie's room door. Eddie answers, obviously not having slept at all. Richie invites himself in, because Richie. He's acting super fidgety and wired up even by Richie standards, so Eddie keeps pressing him what the fuck is going on. The flood gates open big and wide so Richie recounts to Eddie what he saw and how he's felt most of his life even if they forgot each other for 27 years.

Eddie's still on unstable footing because 1) he's married, even if he's come to the realization that he's very unhappy in it and 2) he's in love with Richie as well.

They kiss and talk and maybe have sex, but if they don't things definitely happen to change it all between them.

Eddie leaves early in the morning, but not without saying goodbye to Richie and the others. They all make promises to keep in touch etc, which they all do.

Richie goes back to LA, Eddie NY. By the end of the first day, there's already well over 200 text messages between the two of them, so they are definitely talking. Eddie needs space to figure stuff out and also deal with his marriage and other things. Richie respects that and tells him he'll wait, blue balling it the whole time like a champ.

A few months go by and the divorce is about to be finalized. Eddie and Richie talk every day and are basically dating long distance but neither will put an official label on it. It is what it is and they're both happy with that. It isn't until Richie brings up the subject of maybe moving to NY or maybe Eddie coming out to visit him that things get a little tense. Eddie seems a bit spooked or vague about it so Richie starts to freak out a bit that he's fucked up or pushed Eddie too far. Naturally, he shoves it under the rug and doesn't bring up the subject again wanting Eddie to feel completely at ease with the topic.

However, a little less than a week later there's a knock at his door. Thinking it's just the food delivery guy he practically falls over as he opens the door and it's Eddie standing there scowling at him. Richie is like 'man, how badly did I fuck up and what did I fuck up on?' but then Eddie says, "Hey asshole, I just moved into a short term rental a few minutes away need to give my boyfriend the spare key."

Richie's practically passed out on the floor by now so Eddie just edges his way into his place and puts down the key on the kitchen table. Eddie wanted to surprise Richie by moving out to LA but didn't want to move in with Richie right away (or so he thinks). They still want to take things a little slow, but less than two months later Eddie is fully moved into Richie's and they are living happily and hornily ever after.

[taltos-seidmadr]

Hiya! Id love to get a reading from you for the spooky season :) My birthdate is March 1998, 23 years old! My question is kinda appropriate for the season of change, I just started a masters program after moving across the country alone and am feeling everything shifting out from under me, I'd love a heads up or an insight on what these changes will hold in the year ahead of me. Thank you so much!

This is reading 1 out of 8 (they may be out of order). At the moment of me writing this, there are no slots left, but you can still get a reading in exchange for a small donation.

Hello Theo, thank you so much for your kind message in the reblogs you are so sweet! 💖 And congrats on getting into masters too, this is so huge! I can totally understand how hard this time must be for you, maybe even scary. But please don't be afraid, the uncertainty is only temporary.

What you are asking is pretty broad, I think in a year the weave of fate will be rewritten several times over, but I did try to do a reading that covers maybe the next... 6-8 months or so. It ended up a bit disjointed but I uncovered are some glimpses into the future that are probably certain enough at this point that they will happen. I think that at least some of them could be related to each other in ways that I don't see yet, in a butterfly effect sort of way.

ace of wands. seven of cups

These are really good cards for your situation. As far as your college studies and your social life goes, I don't think this will be a very rocky semester in the bigger scheme of things. It's going to be a time full of opportunities that you can spend exploring about what you really want in life. I think, once you manage to set foot in your new place, you will have a great time overall.

three of wands reversed. king of wands

I pulled these as a clarification/elaboration on the previous two. It kinda seems like something that you had originally planned fell through, and maybe this is why you are upset and just want to go home, go back to how things were. I totally get that and I'm sorry. But the cards think that you are a little bit stuck in the past at this moment. Do you see this king? That's you! Time to get back on your king shit! You will have so much control over your own life like never before. Which is daunting, I get it. But I think you will see a very enjoyable side of this independence very soon.

three of cups. six of cups

Try to socialize as much as you are comfortable, in some way that you like (and is responsible during covid) because the friendships that you are going to make in the near future will be strong bonds that you can count on for a long time coming. There is a slightly narrower interpretation of these cards, that could say that you run into someone whom you used to know and you end up getting way closer with them than you have ever been. But depending on how far you have moved, the chances of this are probably slim in my opinion. Either way, friendships will be the best part of the upcoming months for you.

king of pentacles. judgement reversed. the lovers

Yeah, so there's this guy. I kinda feel like they are bad news. I'm not completely sure if that's the true nature of this message but the most surface level interpretation of these cards is a romantic connection of sorts. Are you looking for partners at this time? If so please vet them carefully cause I feel like there is someone approaching you who seems very enticing at first but they are more trouble than they're worth. They are not... actively malicious but they have a lot of emotional baggage that they don't really think of as their own problem. Not saying anything about the gender of this individual but I'm getting like a real Christian Grey type of "self proclaimed daddy dom" vibe here (read: i have no idea how respectful power dynamic plays work in a relationship but I use them as a front to take out my issues on my partner) I think a relationship could work at least for a while but sooner or later it would turn toxic. They might be willing to work on themselves but I wouldn't bet on it, and it's not your job to fix them.

But the other thing is, that I feel like they are somehow connected to the "opportunity" card, though I don't know how, and they are clearly loaded with resources, so maybe this is not a lover at all, rather someone who will try to bring you an enticing opportunity? Either way. I don't know what they want from you but if/when accepting their offer, be cautious within reason. I don't think they want to hurt you but don't place too much trust in them either because they will probably disappoint you in some way.

three of swords. chariot. the magician

This was pretty frustrating for me because had it been in words instead of card-pulling, we would have had the following conversation with the deck:

"sadness, heartbreak" "Oh? What is this about?" "Dont worry about it fam. He's got this." "Um. Okay but like, what's the topic, or..." "I SAID. DON'T WORRY. ABOUT IT. HE'S GOT THIS."

Incredulously, the cards wanted you to know that "SOMETHING" will happen at one point that will upset and inconvenience you at first for a very brief period of time before it's revealed that it's actually the best thing that could have happened to you. The Chariot can sometimes refer to moving or travel so um... I'm not sure. But let's say that you are booted from your accommodation only to find your dream home immediately afterwards. Just an example but something like that is what I would expect to happen. Either way, it could not be any more certain that you are more than equipped to handle this. Could it be that the cards are quiet because this has already happened and you already know what it is? Either way. The only advice I can give you is that even if it all seems chaotic right now, don't get TOO upset by anything.

I feel like there is only one thing that I can tell you after looking back at this reading. And I'm not saying this just to make you feel better, but if the cards told me the complete truth, you are WAY more powerful than you think. And I'm not even saying this in a "you will survive this uwu" kind of way - you are like some kind of level 80 sigma manifestation king or something. I think maybe you are just a little bit stuck in your ways, like, if something didn't come true in the way you imagined you lose faith that they can come true at all. I totally get that, I can be like that too sometimes. But during this time, while doing your masters, your perspectives will inevitably broaden, and I hope you will be able to see how much you are capable of and believe in yourself more.

tip 💖