#the go about day as normal option is for those who already wake up with a dick everyday. but dont let that stop u from picking other options

[hellhoundlair]

#the go about day as normal option is for those who already wake up with a dick everyday. but dont let that stop u from picking other options #truth be told this poll is just to test my followers predisposition towards jacking it

[theladysunami]

I listen to a lot of audiobook murder mysteries, which has me thinking:

Shen Yuan transmigrating into a murder mystery… as the killer!

There are a couple of ways the story could go.

First Option: Shen Yuan lets his System know, in no uncertain terms, he will not be murdering anyone.

Its response: [Alternate Plotline Initiated. New Assignment: Designated Red Herring].

Poor Shen Qingqiu finds himself stuck in a whole murder mystery series, and any time anyone is murdered, he somehow ends up being the number one suspect!

The victim? Probably picked a fight with Shen Qingqiu at some point. (Shen Qingqiu tries to avoid such arguments, but it never seems to work!)

The murder weapon? Yeah, Shen Qingqiu is almost guaranteed to have touched it. (Shen Qingqiu is severely tempted to start wearing gloves 24/7.)

The body? Either Shen Qingqiu finds it himself at some inopportune time, and/or it was stashed somewhere “only” he is supposed to have access to. (At some point it's just: Shen Qingqiu opens a door… sees a body… closes the door. “Time to call the cops, yet again.”)

Shen Qingqiu ends up a tad paranoid about the whole thing, setting up cameras outside his house, in his office, in his car, etc. just to (hopefully) stop people from planting evidence any of those places.

If anyone asks about the truly absurd number of (eventually dropped) murder allegations, Shen Qingqiu insists he's cursed. Even with genre blinders on (making the number of convoluted murders in the area seem normal somehow), it's hard for anyone to argue the point.

For Shen Qingqiu's day job (when he's not busy being charged with murder) he works as a professor at a university with a highly regarded Criminology & Criminal Justice program. I'm thinking the original goods was a literature professor, with a strong distaste for cops, who was known for grading anyone in the criminal justice program exceedingly harshly. Naturally one of his students is the protagonist, Luo Binghe.

After his transmigration, professor Shen Qingqiu suddenly becomes a very kind and doting professor with a real passion for literature. This leaves Luo Binghe quickly smitten and makes him a very motivated amateur detective, since he's determined to prove his beloved's innocence as quickly as possible and as often as needed!

Second Option: Shen Yuan takes over after the original goods already committed the murder.

He wakes up with a splitting headache (the victim attempted to defend themselves presumably), looks at his bloody hands… looks at the victim… looks at the weapon… looks at his bloody hands again. “Damn it, Airplane.”

He decides he doesn't want to try and hide a body actually, just to be caught by the protagonist later and charged with a whole slew of things in addition to murder, so he calls the cops himself. He might as well take advantage of the fact he has a concussion and literally doesn't remember a thing. Maybe he can get the charges reduced somewhat and get a lighter sentence.

Of course the first cop that arrives at the scene is Yue Qingyuan, who as the #1 Xiao-Jiu stan gives Shen Qingqiu way too much benefit of the doubt. The most obvious evidence also keeps being erased or damaged by weird as hell coincidences.

Shen Qingqiu knows he certainly isn't responsible for damaging evidence and wonders if the System is working overtime behind the scenes to ensure there actually is a mystery for Luo Binghe to solve. (After all, it wouldn't be much of a story if Shen Qingqiu was already charged and sentenced before Luo Binghe had a chance to even do anything.)

To his complete bewilderment, after a few days leave to recover from the concussion, Shen Qingqiu is actually allowed to return to his university teaching job. He decides to make the best of it, since who knows how long he'll be a free man.

As in the first scenario, a few months later and Luo Binghe is absolutely smitten, not to mention all the other students and faculty that have come to adore him.

As Shen Qingqiu has successfully endeared himself to pretty much anyone and everyone local that could actually charge him or provide eyewitness testimony, not to mention all the shady shit about murder victim Qiu Jianluo the ongoing investigation keeps digging up, the plot stalls for a bit until the state police (aka Huan Hua Palace) are finally called in by Qiu Haitang.

Unfortunately for the ‘HHP’ folks, the protagonist himself is on Shen Qingqiu's side, and Luo Binghe is perfectly happy to muddy the waters by conveniently “losing” evidence, sending them after every single red herring he comes across, and “accidentally” digging up dirt on all the shady dealings going on in their department.

The System keeps trying to motivate Shen Qingqiu to hide evidence, lie, or do literally anything suspicious to progress the plot further, but all its punishment protocols involve sabotaging Shen Qingqiu's coverup attempts (of which he has none) or revealing information to the protagonist (who is complicit by this point) so it's fresh out of luck.

Eventually the System gives up and Shen Qingqiu is congratulated for “getting away with murder!” despite the fact he didn't actually do anything.

“Seriously? Does it even count as getting away with murder when the original goods was the actual murderer? I didn't kill anyone!”

[...]

#BingQiu #Shen Qingqiu #Luo Binghe #SQQ #LBH #Scum Villain's Self Saving System #SVSSS #SVSSS Idea #Story Idea #* I know nothing about the Chinese justice system... but the 'original book' would have been written by Airplane so it's fine.

[itsgodepi]

If I lose my mind | Ch. 9

Series summary: When life has given you more than enough lemons and you cannot figure out how to make a lemonade, the only way to make it work is to get rid of the whole basket. But was it neccesary to send you to a whole different dimension for that? A juicer would have done the job, really. Or, one day you go to sleep as a normal person and the next you wake up as a Formula One driver. You've never been a fan but isn't it like, one of the most exclusive sports? Pairing: CL16, LH44, CS55, DR3 x fem!reader Chapter: Previous | Next Word Count: 2.7k Also on AO3

You recognize his laugh now. Not the one recorded by the nosy photographers or the overstepping interviewers, but the real one. The way he leans his head to the side and his eyes turn into beautiful crescent moons. Those low chuckles as well, so carefree and sweet, resounding in your head and bringing you back to the hundreds of videos saved in your camera roll, the ones you have been watching for nights on end since you found that phone. 

It is difficult to decipher if the goosebumps raising in your skin come from the happiness the mere sound induces inside you, or the fear of realizing how deep you have been dragged into this nightmare. 

After landing in Belgium, Daniel’s first instinct had been to send you a message, an invite out for dinner which he admitted was long overdue. Two months had already gone by since you fainted in Austria —or better said, the day you woke up surrounded by a whole Formula 1 team in an unknow place—, two months since he fought with Nick in the middle of the track and promised to ‘talk later’. Two months.  

Safe to say you were surprised enough to ignore the hundreds of messages higher on the chat. It’s better to take in this kind of news one by one. 

“My friend said the steak tartare was amazing, you should have a look at it” Daniel offers when you lower your eyes to the menu, skimming over the dishes as if that could help you ignore the tingling on your stomach  

Pursing your lips, you finally focus your gaze on the words written before you. “I don’t know if…” you begin to show your doubts about the raw dish, trying to locate it on the menu among the rest of unrecognizable food names. 

Daniel can see the exact second you find it.  

“Don’t you dare look at the price,” the driver threatens when your eyes widen at the quantity, eyebrows furrowed as you wonder if the meat is wrapped in gold or something “You’re not paying again, I’m telling you!” 

“What do you mean again?” you ask through a chuckle, scanning the rest of the menu for a more reasonable option. After all, it is always Daniel who passes you gummies and other unhealthy treats under Nick’s nose when you are on the track, and not the other way around. It would have been impossible anyway, it’s only recently that you have acquired some form of payment. 

Daniel calls for the waiter after a shake of his head, a smirk falling of his lips “Yeah, sure, I’ll let you play dumb now... gave them my card already, so no use in sneaking to the bathroom and paying behind my back” 

To be fair, although you doubt you could have invited Daniel to more than a sip of coffee in the short time you’ve know him —you absolutely do not have the kind of money needed to invite a Formula One driver out, that’s become obvious, those kinds of antics do ring a bell or two.  

After all, you may have picked them up from the best at that type of tricks: your father.  

On your time away from home, you have found yourself holding onto the little pieces of your family which have so easily become a part of your personality over the years. Your father’s silent gestures of love, your mother’s caring nature, and honestly, being unable to talk to them had taken a toll on you. Probably, that is why you had melt into a poodle of tears when you heard your dad’s voice on the phone. 

“¿A ti te parece normal estar dos meses sin llamar a tus padres? (Does it seem normal to you to go two months without calling your parents?) "

Even hearing his scoldings felt like the most precious moment of your life. 

Charles had come crashing into the room as soon as he heard your cries, kneeling beside you on the floor thinking you might have hurt yourself with how fast you had run away to your room. His concerned look rapidly turning into one of confusion when you firmly held his hand and whispered between sobs “It’s my dad!” 

The discovery of this new device had not only opened a channel of communication with your family, which had both been a blessing and a curse, but also brough an infinity of unanswered questions. Although the first few minutes of your conversation had been centered around your mother’s question about your wellbeing and if you had been eating well, it had not taken long until that precious moment was broken. After checking that you had been doing alright and apologizing for not talking to them, your father could not hold it any longer and started gushing about the amazing few races you had had before the break. 

A reality check so sudden that it takes your breath away. 

Their happiness and eagerness to congratulate you on the highest place of your career, managed to sober you up completely. You heart sinking with every compliment they threw at you, their desire to see you climb up in the sport, to see you win one day. “It will come” your mother says, as if any of this was real. As if they were real.  

When you finally found your voice again, you had cut the conversation short with promises to call them soon —even if the mere thought of it made you nauseous. 

This encounter only renewed your desire to break free from what had become you own personal prison, and that device was a new key for your escape. While the phone you had been carrying since the start of this journey only had a couple numbers from the team members saved on it, this one was filled to the brim with messages, photos,... a whole life encased in such a small object. Your life? 

And somehow a main character in a large part of them was the man in front of you. 

“You sure you don’t want to taste it?” Daniel queries with a half-smile, having clearly caught the way your eyes followed the delicious looking cake as the waiter placed it on the table 

The colors rise to your cheeks in shyness, looking to the side while you jokingly sigh “Daniel, I won’t fit in the car if I keep eating...” 

“You’ll drive mine then” he quickly resolves, taking a huge piece of the treat and offering the spoon to you. Honestly, you had swapped the list of amazingly sounding desserts for a simple tea because you felt too full to even think of eating anything else, but a spoonful of cake can’t hurt, right? “Have to wear the McLaren suit though” 

Although you do it unconsciously, the look you give Daniel over the mouthful of cake, tells him everything he needs to know regarding your opinion on the bright orange race suit. The driver lets out a loud laugh, putting on his disbelieving facade as if that hadn’t been his intention in the first place. 

“So nice hearing you criticize my team’s color, really, I don’t know why we stopped having lunch together. Yeah, not a clue...” Daniel scoffs, digging into his plate to drown his fabricated sorrows. So dramatic. 

“I didn’t even talk!” you quip back to his amusement, just now having managed to get through the enormous bite of cake. Daniel only response is a disapproving shake of his head, and you let him have this one as you stir your tea. You are more interested in the second part of his grumbles “Why did we stop though?” 

“Don’t know... I guess with the whole start of the season, new team and everything” Daniel relays with a frown, gesturing to the air as if to explain that life had gotten in between what seemed to be a tradition the two of you had. “And also, that fucking diet...” the driver snickers with a roll of his eyes, having thrown that last jab as joke to lighten up the mood after such serious turn of the conversation.  

However, a soon as your eyes meet, he knows it’s been a misstep —even if it is just a coincidence that what he thinks is your how dare you say that? look is more of a what diet are you talking about? Look. 

“Sorry, ‘shouldn't have said that” Daniel apologizes straight away, leaning back into his seat with a sigh and the last piece of the cake. The time it takes him to munch on the treat is enough for him to debate whether or not he should make his opinion on such an important cmatter. Finally, he opts for a more conservative approach “It’s just... you already know what I think about it. Nick too” 

The mention of your Formula One trainer’s name makes all the alarms go off in your head, more so when the last time you saw them together, they were having a pretty heated conversation in the middle of a Grand Prix “Is that why you fought with Nick?”  

You try to appear outwardly calm about the situation, swirling what’s left of your tea as if your hands weren’t trembling in anticipation. This is it, at last, some real information. Not some meaningless clues which do nothing but mess with your poorly constructed theories.  

Your grandmother’s necklace burns against your chest, the feeling grounding you against all the thoughts brimming on your head. After all, the piece of jewelry is still the only fragment of an ever-distant reality, one you have kept safe and close to your heart ever since you found. You rest your hand over the pendant, sensing the heat even through the fabric of your blouse, as you wait for the response. 

He brushes a hand over his curls, looking everywhere but at you. “Yeah, kind of... I mean,” he accepts, clicking his tongue and taking in a big breath, as if he couldn’t bring himself to say it plain and clear. Daniel takes a second to reorganize his thoughts, straightening up in his chair and leaning his arms over the table in deep thought. However, when you think he’s managed to make up his mind and talk, the only words that come out his lips are “Look, we shouldn't talk about this now” 

A frown instantly forms on your expression at the premise, jaw set as you prepare yourself to most likely yell at Daniel everything that’s been on your mind thorough your time trapped here —whatever here means. You were finally going to clear one of the millions of unknowns surrounding this dream or whatever this is, and the man has the audacity to want to leave this incredibly important conversation for later. Oh, hell no. 

“No, listen” Daniel tries to settle your worries, having perfectly recognized the signs of what was about to come for him, from the slight closing of you hand over the table to the uncredulous grin lightly lifting the side of your lips “We’ll talk in the ride back to the track. C’mon, I’ll drive you” 

The soft sound of the radio fills the silence on the way out of the parking, a ballad which does absolutely not fit the speed at what your mind is running. Daniel can probably feel the weight of your stare, trying to let him have some space since it seems to be a sensitive topic for him, but so eager to learn what transpired between the two of them.   

The driver decides to preface his explanation with a “Don't get mad at me, okay?”, a strained smile pulling at his lips. For starters, that sentence does sound familiar. “I know I should stay out of it, and I think... well, no, I know! I know you’ve been really stressed out lately, that everything’s different now and all of that. I mean, they won't shut up about the fucking ‘second year in F1’ or whatever”  

Daniel tries to check your reaction out of the corner of his eye, his thoughts, although disorganized, always careful of your feelings. Yet, you can only regard him with a confused look.  

“What I’m trying to say is... I think you’ve been pushing yourself too hard” the driver lets out, the words flowing out of him like they have been weighting him for too long. His urge to explain his intentions straight away, showing how much of a push back he was expecting from your part "Again, I’m not trying to start an argument, I’m just worried about you! I’ve seen you training, seen that diet... this is not good for you”  

You’ve kept your eyes in the road in front thorough the conversation, taking in how concerned he has been about you. You had never seen this side of Daniel, he has always seen friendly and eager to help whenever you needed, but nothing had ever seen this deep. Still, you don’t understand what any of this has to do with his fight with Nick. 

“I understand that...” you acknowledge his worries, making a mental note to check everything he said later. In the time you had spent following this professional motorsport driver schedule, none of it had seemed as harsh to you as he had mentioned. Maybe something changed? Why though? “So, Nick and you talked about that? Is that it?” 

“Well, yes, Nick and I kind of had a... disagreement, yeah, we can call it that. About this new training plan you had going on. We had already talked about it like, back in Canada, and obviously nothing came out of it. But after Austria...” Daniel lets a second go while he enters the road, a harder grip on the steering wheel than needed. “Listen, I know we haven’t talked about it at all, I don’t know if you and Nick did?” 

You almost want to laugh at the supposition, your trainer had shut down any attempts of talking about it the day after the incident, so you had eventually given up “No, nothing” 

“I didn’t want to pressure you into talking about it but... We got really scared that day. I went to celebrate your qualy and, suddenly, you started panicking and freaking out! I didn’t know what to do, and then you fell unconscious. Do you remember any of it?” the driver wonders, his voice showcasing the whirlwind of emotions he went through despite the fact that he might be giving you a diluted version of what went down. You can only nod at him, the memories fresh on your mind “When they took you to the hospital, I thought, they for sure won’t let her race tomorrow, right? And then I see you on the track, all dressed up again, I couldn’t believe it...”  

“Didn’t Nick say he sent you a text?” you try to fill in, fingers fiddling with your own phone. Two months might have passed, but the images of that day keep replaying in your mind every single night. 

Daniel clicks his tongue in disbelief, eyes still focused on the road “Yes, he sent me two fucking lines saying the doctor discharged you, that you were fine and that’s literally it. You can take my phone and see it for yourself! I kept blowing up his phone but that’s the only thing he would say: exhaustion, she’s alright” 

That would explain the way Daniel approached you in Austria, how furious he had been with Nick after the secrecy with which the incident had been treated. The first thing he asked you that day was if you were alright, after the pre-race activities had finished and as away from the public as he could knowing you were in the middle of a Grand Prix. That is why he pounced at Nick when he mentioned the exhaustion diagnosis, fed up with the discourse. The distrust he had in your trainer’s statement clear in his words.  

Yet another thread to be pulled. 

Author's note: Hey, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. It's been a while! My masters is clearly kicking my ass and I didn't have a single second to write, but here it is. Thank you all so much for reading, any kind of interaction is greatly appreciated!

Taglist: @purplephantomwolf @raye2000 @yuiiimd @drezzerk33 @leclercdream @homie0sapien @minkyungseokie @carlossainzwho @rewmuslupin @kyuupidwrites @raevyng @lazybot @gills-lounge @hiraethrhapsody @jjkclub @darleneslane @therealcap @aespie

#daniel ricciardo x reader #carlos sainz x reader #charles leclerc x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 x you #formula one x reader #formula one x you #f1 imagine

[wrathful-banette]

sooo.... I've been getting into slay the princess. here are some headcanons for the voices if they were given free reign to exist in the outside world. also they all live in the same house since I'm a sucker for that trope. also the princesses be there

under the cut because it will be very long. endgame spoilers for stp btw.

Voice Of The Hero:

the one that everyone is at least mostly chill with.

all the other voices have a fair amount of experience with him, considering the routes.

overall a pretty kind and considerate guy ←this is literally just canon what am I going on about

Can very easily miss subtext and sarcasm also.

↑the contrarian exploits this for friendly reasons!

↑↑the cold exploits this for evil reasons

I imagine he would look basically like a smaller the long quiet.

him and the contrarian are thick as thieves, as well as him and the long quiet.

struggles with feelings of loneliness and disconnection from the world around him.

semi-frequent nightmares, ranging from mostly being unpleasant dreams to "waking up in the middle of night terrified." thankfully, the latter option is rather rare for him.

very fond of physical affection.

Voice Of The Contrarian:

he's a crow!

very good at using reverse psychology.

However, this comes at the cost of being very susceptible to reverse psychology himself.

forgets to preen with alarming frequency, with surprisingly little consequence.

extremely loyal to those he cares for, just in weird ways.

Shares the hero's trait of being rather susceptible to loneliness.

he really likes giving the other voices nicknames! it's a show of affection for him.

him and hero kind of have what you'd call a bromance going on.

Voice Of The Hunted:

a sandpiper.

He's grown a lot more comfortable with the others, even though he still retains his prey animal mindset in a lot of ways.

very frequently puttering around making sure "the flock" (the other voices) are doing okay.

↑ especially when it comes to food!! his ass WILL make sure you've eaten

one of the main driving forces reminding the broken to eat drink and preen himself.

very meticulous about preening himself, but somehow even more meticulous with the others (headcanon inspired by someone else idr who sadly)

Can go from just standing on the ground normally to flying like 20 feet in the air in just a couple seconds.

he can and has done this on pure instinct when he's been startled outdoors.

desperately wants to carry people around you should totally let him do that pleasepleasepleaseplease

Very nervous around the beast/den, but has been calming down a bit in that respect.

surprisingly protective over the other voices, the broken and paranoid especially.

Voice Of The Smitten:

flamingo <3

struggles with feelings of inadequacy, feeling like he has to give 110% to the acts of service with the damsel at all times, even when that just isn't feasible for him.

He has a... complex relationship with the stubborn.

He struggles to understand how the hell his relationship with the adversary even functions, but is able to respect it for the most part.

↑This respect was only fostered when they almost got into a physical fight because the smitten questioned if he really loved the adversary.

Smitten's really bad at asking for help, sees it as unbecoming for himself.

For this same reason, he's also terrible at expressing his more genuinely bad feelings.

overpreens when stressed, leading to bald spots which he always gets extremely self-conscious and embarrassed about. nobody knows he gets these except himself.

resents the voice of the cold for the burned grey route, but refuses to give him the time of day about it.

Voice of the Broken:

He's been doing better. the others have been helping the best they can.

surprisingly enough however, one of the biggest catalysts for his improving mental health has been... the nightmare/moment of clarity?

it started off as her not having any fun messing with somebody who was already so beaten down, but the paradigm has long sense shifted from that.

Don't get me wrong, he's still a pushover. but less so now.

^these headcanons courtesy of @kalkori btw (hiii kb :3)

His feathers are a mess most of the time. the hunted is his saving grace in this respect.

actually, him and the hunted have grown rather close, in their own weird way.

Voice of The Stubborn:

he's a shoebill stork!

him and the adversary/eye of the needle are in a relationship together.

They've since branched out and gotten other hobbies other than beating the shit out of eachother (though they still do that frequently),

like beating the shit out of invasive plants, and picking fights with the more powerful princesses together

^the tower has not known a moment of peace since this began. she will not know a moment of peace again.

he frequently wrestles with the long quiet for fun!

hotblooded in the most literal way possible. actual walking heater.

likes pestering the skeptic.

Voice of the Paranoid:

most of these headcanons are also going to be courtesy of kb they are the number one voice of the paranoid fan to me

He's a Bittern! longass neck having ass

he is straight up sneef snorfin it

Frequently overpreens, leading to multiple bald spots.

the long quiet has put him into a longass cone over this one at least one occasion.

unlike the smitten, he doesn't really care about the bald spots.

buddies with the hunted!

is not happy about the whole "Moment Of Clarity hanging out with the broken" deal. Is only going along with it because he seems so much happier nowadays. (relative to how he was before, anyway.)

Will instinctively start muttering "heart lungs liver nerves" whenever he senses she's near.

By the way, the mantra still works. and now he can do it on other people, same body or not.

Considering using this ability to become a doctor!

extends his neck out really far on instinct whenever he feels threatened. just bittern things <3

Also, him and the smitten are friends, against all odds. nobody knows how their friendship functions with the way they are

Voice of the Cheated:

dont have a solid bird idea for him but a dodo bird could be really fun

i love him he sucks so much

Somehow keeps getting himself injured in ways that he just straight up could Not feasibly predict or prevent. he is NOT taking it in stride.

absolutely despises the opportunist, considers him a slimy, cheating bastard.

Isn't allowed to participate in board game sessions anymore.

not after the incident.

but he is allowed to observe and call people out if they try and cheat.

He's mellowed out a bit since the construct. just a bit.

he hates preening himself, and tends to get fidgety when other people preen him. but he always relents eventually, if only because he very much dislikes how uncomfortable it is to have unpreened feathers.

Voice of the Cold

also someone who's mellowed out a bit. Still, his walls are up.

But it's a lot harder to keep up a facade of disconnection when you have your own body. when you're more than just an observer. he tries regardless. And mostly succeeds. But the long quiet knows the truth.

The spectre and moment of clarity will sneak up behind him and try to jumpscare him with cold hands on his shoulders. it never works.

always ridiculously cold. counteracts this with the power of always layering.

butts heads with the smitten a lot. and the stubborn, actually.

He considers both of them hopeless romantics with nothing better to do except fawn over their partners.

Voice of the Skeptic

He'd probably be some kind of owl?

i'm gonna be honest i ain't got much for him but he does get along well with the paranoid, being able to reign him in from his more... impulsive worries.

Nobody realises that him and the prisoner are in a relationship. they don't plan on telling anyone until they find out.

he enjoys puzzles of any kind! jigsaw, logic, math, crossword, you name it.

good at white lies, but terrible at telling lies with any sort of substance or ill intent behind them.

tends to pace around a lot when deep in thought.

him and stubborn are shitasses to eachother most of the time.

Voice of the Opportunist

definitely a vulture.

he sucks so goddamn much i love him

he's actually turned the two-faced-ness down a bit since the construct. just a bit.

likes hanging out with the smitten, he thinks he's funny. No, no, he's not getting attached. shut it.

him and the witch hang out a lo too, but in a way that involves, well. a lot of biting.

they basically just playfight, but like. fighting dirty playfighting.

...He tends to avoid the thorn. he feels a bit guilty around her.

quiet ass footsteps. he just... appears in places sometimes. refuses to acknowledge this.

he eats bugs. and a lot of other weird things, actually.

both of these are because he's pretty much always hungry. if you leave food out he will have some.

he is much more impulsive than he would have you believe.

aaand that's all of them for now! if you read all of this we are now married /j

#slay the princess #stp #voice of the hero #voice of the contrarian #voice of the hunted #voice of the smitten #voice of the broken #voice of the stubborn #voice of the paranoid #voice of the cheated #voice of the cold #voice of the skeptic #voice of the opportunist #slay the princess spoilers #op

[ew-selfish-art]

Okay so ignore me, a Maribat shipper using the Dcxdp fandom for my own gain but like y’all keep doing de-aged Danny plots without considering something. Yes it’s great for those paternal and found family vibes but you know what it can also be used for: shipping.

This is heavy on the maribat vibes so skip if that’s not your thing:

> Danny, early 20s, pretty solidly being an everyday hero, left amity and kicks it on his friends couches when not in the GZ because going home is no longer an option. The town is basically rigged to find phantoms ecto signature

> Danny becomes a part of the JL and is fast friends with Kon and Jon but warms up to Damian over the years. He just thinks “huh what a weirdly spicy guy” and enjoys the chaos of befriending him. They have regular conversations about animal conservation and video games. Damian has always played the newest one, and he’s always down to best Danny

> Ladybug has also joined the JL and is very skittish about making friends since she’s trying really hard to keep her identity under wraps. She eventually warms up to Danny, talking about you guessed it, old video games, and she brings him like, so many snacks, that it helps him rewrite the normalcy of having food attack him. He starts to notice that she is her own flavor of chaos gremlin and they get along thick as thieves

>Here’s the thing, Robin has an great Admiration for (aka huge crush) Ladybug and only Danny has noticed. Ladybug is oblivious, Damian thinks he’s undetected and Danny might combust from the amount of times he’s now tried to set them up. The rest of the JL just, meh, doesn’t really see it.

> Danny gets a note from CW that the GIW are honing in on his ecto signature and something needs to change quick, or he’s going to pull him from the dimension for his safety. Well, the note mostly says: find this artifact and it’ll change your frequency. Take a bird with you.

> Danny initially recruits Tim to go as Red Robin but then he can’t bring himself to wake the bird up when found asleep at his desk. Robin steps in and says he’s free so long as the mission doesn’t take more than a day.

> Danny is de-aged, the artifact is lost, Damian is now barely functioning as a young 8yr old Danny opens up a portal to get them back to the watchtower before he detransforms and gets a bit younger. He looks like he’s seven and if his powers are linked to the aging cycle- then no powers for danny.

> ladybug enters the watchtower trying to escape a team member who needs to get a clue about the fact that she needs to detransform every now and then, goes into her normally empty meeting room, and as the magic washes off her - boom portal and Danny and Damian appear. Marinette is so fucked. Everyone is floundering and then Danny gets an idea about how this can still turn around to be an ideal outcome for all three of them.

> Danny decided now is probably the best time to pull a Cupid gambit: joint parenting. He demands that ladybug be the one to help portal them back to Gotham. Congrats, you guys are going to help me wait out this spell. Ladybug feels like she should just run from this whole thing, her identity is already compromised, but then Danny begs her for her help since it’s magical

> Just, Damian and Marinette trying to jointly manage Danny while trying to sort out aging him up- CW leaving vague notes here and there about why he’s not going to help them reverse the spell- Danny having so much fun going between Gotham and Paris with his “parents” and trying to nudge them together

>hell yeah they fall in love.

> oh and then Dani shows up and quickly gets Danny to sort himself out. The Dummy forgot that shapeshifting was a thing he could do.

#maribat #marinette dupain cheng #damian wayne #damian x marinette #ml fanfic #mlb x dc #dc x dp fic #dc x dp #mlb x dp #danny phantom #maribat fic #de aged danny

[drama--universe]

Adopted

Requested by anonymous: Heyoooo! So I'll try the children's reader 😊 headcanons Zewu Jun, Lianfang Zun and a trio from Yi City started caring for a homeless child?

Pairing: Untamed boys x child!reader

Lan Xichen:

he's in a town when he finds you

the juniors were walking through the market, smiling from ear to ear when they passed the stalls

Xichen just trailed behind them, a soft smile on his own face

until he noticed something

rather someone

you were a small child, your frame thin and covered in dirt and your hair long and unkept

he pauses, looking around to find a possible parent or guardian

when unable to find one, he approaches you carefully

he's careful to not spook you and kneels down to show that he means no harm, holding out his hand

you looked scared, but also curious as you took a small step back

Xichen could see the wheels in your head turning, knowing full well that you were weighing your options

you choose to take his hand

and Xichen felt shivers up his spine as he realized how thin you actually were

your hand felt thin, almost like it just bones

the first he does is get some food, more specifically some bread

not too much, just enough to make sure that your stomach would stop growling

"eat slowly"

you nodded as you grabbed the bread from the man's hands, slowly munching on the treat

Xichen took the chance to ask your age

you held up seven fingers

and Xichen feels bad again

because you definitely didn't look seven

rather four or five years old thanks to your small frame

when he asks you about your parents, he watches as your expression drops

before tears start running down your face

he comforts you before explaining that he lost his parents too

he doesn't know if it helps, but you push yourself against him while crying in his robes

he doesn't care for the looks of others as he carries you into the inn and to his room

you're fast asleep already

he takes you to Gusu Lan

although some don't agree to just bring in a child that had no known origin, Xichen is always quick to refute them by listing off the rules

"help those in need if possible"

the first thing he does is clean you up

he makes sure that the dirt is scrubbed off your body, your wounds are cleaned and your hair is back to normal

(he assumes it to be normal anyway, he doesn't know if it is healthy or not since he doesn't know the last time that you washed your hair)

when you're fully clean, he dries and dresses you

the robes are slightly too big, but it was just for now

you're asleep by the time he gets back to his room

laying on his bed, curled up in the pillow

Xichen just covers you with a blanket before making his own make-shift bed on the ground

when he wakes up the next day, you are curled up against his side

he can't help but hug you softly, watching as you just cuddled closer to him

he didn't know where you came from or who you exactly were, but he'd take care of you

Jin Guangyao:

he found you when he was kicked out of the brothel

you were two, maybe three years old

left behind

normally, he wouldn't care

but he saw himself in you

left behind to rot by your parents

he basically adopts you as his younger sister

takes care of you, even if it means that he has no food for the evening

surprisingly, he really does care for you

in his own way, of course

when you get older, he is quick to teach you some useful skills

lying, manipulating, stealing, etc.

he's also quick to teach you to only use it on others, not on him

you're a quick learner, using your age as an advantage to get what you wanted

Guangyao feels proud as he saw what you could achieve on your own

be sure that you get roped into his own plans for the future

but all that aside, he is really attached to you

he is often by your side, no matter where you go

and he makes sure that you are accepted by others

but with his own reputation, this is rather difficult

you don't seem to care, you're a loner at this point

so he focuses on his plan instead of you

but every night, he'd come back to take care of you

he'd make sure you would be safe until the end of his plans

he didn't mind risking others, but you were not just someone

you were his sister and he'd die for you

Yi City Trio:

it had been the three of them for awhile now

nobody else was around while they stayed in Yi City

until one day, someone was dragged into the city

courtesy of Xue Yang

how did you get there?

once again, thanks to Xue Yang

he had found you during a walk around the market

you were laid down on the ground, thin form covered in dirt

your hands were bleeding, scrapes and cuts littering your skin

and you were unconscious

he watched as a man lifted you before carelessly tossing you aside to clear the road

he watched carefully, waiting for anyone to help you

but no one did

he inched closer with care, almost like a lion stalking its prey

when close enough, he softly pushed your form with his foot

you don't stir, so he assumes your dead

then he notices that you're breathing

and for some reason, he can't seem to walk away

so he throws you over his shoulder before setting off

weirdly enough, no one actually stops him from doing so

when he gets back, he approaches Xingchen before laying you down

"Help them."

Xingchen is kind enough to follow the request

Xue Yang is a bit surprised once again with how easily Xingchen does this task while being blind

A-Qing notices you later and her eyes widen slightly in shock

she's not that good at acting like she's blind, or at least Xue Yang thinks so

surprisingly, she lowers herself and gently raised her hand to your head

you wake up in a few hours

when you do it is quite a sight to behold

your head is laid in someone's lap, when you look up you spot a woman who is asleep

raising yourself up from her lap, you noticed two men

one dressed in white and one in black

the latter one was clearly asleep, head thrown back against an empty wagon

the one in white was not asleep

not that you could really tell thanks to the cloth on his eyes

it was only due to the fact that he was slowly pacing

you didn't mean to startle him as you spoke, but he did flinch slightly before relaxing

he turns around, face turned in your direction as he nodded for you to continue

when asked by where you were, he was quick to give you an answer

and when you asked if you could stay with them, he was just as quick to tell you yes

you basically are a family from that point on

a happy family of four

you just hoped this wouldn't change...

#the untamed #the untamed x reader #untamed x reader #untamed #mdzs #mdzs x reader #the untamed lan xichen x reader #the untamed lan xichen #untamed lan xichen #untamed lan xichen x reader #mdzs lan xichen x reader #mdzs lan xichen #lan xichen #lan xichen x reader #the untamed jin guangyao x reader #the untamed jin guangyao #untamed jin guangyao #untamed jin guangyao x reader #mdzs jin guangyao x reader #mdzs jin guangyao #jin guangyao #jin guangyao x reader #the untamed xiao xingchen x reader #the untamed xiao xingchen #untamed xiao xingchen x reader #untamed xiao xingchen #mdzs xiao xingchen x reader #mdzs xiao xingchen #xiao xingchen #xiao xingchen x reader

[biggerbetterbat]

WITH YOU [2] THE DAY THAT WORLD WENT TO SHIT

Daryl Dixon x reader!OC

Summary: after what she saw it the safe zone, Charlie can’t live her normal perfect life. She knows that she has two options: wait for the death or do someting.

Warnings: language

Song: If I die young The Band Perry

Author’s note: Hello :) Thank you for reading the first chapter and liking it. I promise that it’s the last chapter like that and in the next one true action will happen.

DAYLIGHT ON WATTPAD

It was different.

Something at least felt different.

She was going to work, smiling brightly to the camera, and then quickly coming back home. Going out was challenging and she felt paranoid that from around the corner, she might get attacked. So obviously there was no walking around after dark.

Ever since her visit to the safe zone, she couldn't sleep - it's been three days.

Every time she was lying in her bed and the slightest shadow of sleep was approaching, her sense of hearing sharpened. It was enough that she heard her neighbors, some screaming on the street, little noises that normally wouldn't matter, and she was up. Not to mention that as soon as it was getting dark, she was lighting every light in her house.

Sometimes she got a little bit of sleep. Usually, it was on the couch while she was watching something, sometimes she was waking up on a windowsill with her head leaning on a glass.

That was another thing.

She was sitting late at night on her windowsill, watching the city. It was her habit before the virus, made her mind wander to different places, turning itself off. All the lights and cars or planes noises. She couldn't believe how lucky she was. But now she was also feeling lucky, but only because her flat was high above the ground - high enough to protect her.

With fear, she could watch the streets now.

When the epidemic had just started, people lived their normal lives. They were walking at night, hanging out and just living. Now, it was quiet. People still had to live or go to work, but after sunset, there was no one outside. And when she did see someone in the dark it was obvious that it wasn't a living person.

Atlanta looked dead.

One night Charlie saw one of those things from her window and she lost her mind. It couldn't see her from the ground, but from that moment she felt like a desert on a plate. Ready to be eaten.

She was getting ready to work that morning. Her insides were already up in her throat, her hand shaking with fear. Charlie opened her bag and without hesitation put a knife inside of it and chuckled humorlessly. In the past her necessity was Dior lipstick or Chanel's perfumes, now she would love to have one of her dad's guns.

The most stressful moments of leaving her house were going down or up the elevator. It was claustrophobic and there was no way out if something went wrong. She was going down the corridor to the elevator with her heart on her shoulder. It was stressful waiting for it and even more stressful when it opened.

During waiting time she was looking out the window. She could jump out of the window because right next to her building was a lower building with a flat roof, and then next to this one was another and another. At the end of this sequence of buildings was a ladder, so she could go down.

Somebody touched her arm.

Her heart stopped and her blood ran cold. She was sure that that was the end, that's how she died. With fear, she turned around and what she saw was put into calmness again.

"Hey." a young man smiled. "Did I scare you?" his face dropped.

It was Sam.

He was her neighbor and lived at the end of the corridor. He was around thirty and they were on three dates top. Sam was a charming man, who had a lot to say about everything and he liked to crack jokes here and there.

"Hey." she smiled lightly. "Yeah. You did a bit."

"Sorry." he said. "Haven't seen you in a while."

"Oh...yeah. I'm not going out much lately." she shrugged. "With everything that's been going on...you know."

He let her enter the elevator first as the true gentleman he was. Charlie smiled lightly and picked the right floor that they were both going into.

"Maybe you let me invite you to a dinner?" he asked with hopeful eyes. "At mines. If you don't want to go out. We had fun last time."

And the thing was that they didn't.

Charlie was a good actress and she didn't have the heart to break it to Sam, that she wasn't having fun. Let's say that he was perfect in every way possible. Forgetting that he had an amazing apartment much bigger than hers, Sam was a lawyer in one of the most popular office in Atlanta. His monthly paycheck was enough for him to pay rent and to drive around in a brand-new Maserati.

He liked to look good, so his clothes probably cost more than his car. Every free moment he spent in a gym, so he had the body of a Greek god or even better. He was smart and sometimes too full of himself, but the right word to describe Sam was boring. Yes, he was boring. He was perfect, but Charlie felt with him as if she was still in school. She had to stop herself from yawning next to him all the time and telling the whole truth? He was as boring when they were intimate.

But if that was the cost she had to pay for a comfortable life in luxury and comfort, then she was willing to do it.

"We should totally do it." she smiled.

He did the same, clearly happy.

Moments in the car were the happiest moments of the day. She just felt safe there- away from people and whatever was out there.

She was standing in traffic as she tapped out the song from the radio. Charlie was looking out the window at children playing on the playground. They were smiling and shouted merrily. Her view was soon covered by a big tank. Fear that was asleep deep in her, was woken up again. The military was a reminder of what was happening in the world.

It was a completely normal view by now. Soldiers on the streets, walking around with guns that she would see just in pictures.

Her head moving to the tune of Need You Now by Lady Antebellum, eyes turned to somewhere else. She probably heard this song a hundredth time as it was one of the most played ones lately. She could bet that right after that she would hear Airplanes and then Love The Way You Lie.

But she didn't.

Instead, she heard the voice of a woman who was presenting news. "Epidemic update." she said."We're still not sure how many people are infected by a new mysterious virus. Worldwide Health Organization is still not sure about the number of sick and scientists from around the world are working hard to finally answer all the questions." she said. "They don't know what caused the virus or how to cure it."

"Great." Charlie mumbled.

"For now we know that you can get infected by bit or scratch, so please go somewhere safe." said the woman."Every bigger city, but mostly state cities is being fortified and supported by the military. The safest place now is Atlanta, so please go there if you can."

"Please don't," she said under her breath, looking in horror at the radio.

"Take your families and let's stay safe." the woman appealed.

Then from the speakers, she heard Rihanna singing and her phone lit up.

Mommy

we're leaving tonight. see you soon baby, i love you :*

It was another evening in her apartment, alone. Nothing showed that today was the day that the world went to shit. Officially.

There were no signs of her parents or brothers, which only made her more worried. Atlanta at this point was almost all overrun. The fear when it was just one walker in front of her window seemed like a joke now, when she was seeing whole herds of them. She might live high above the ground, but still, she heard them snarling.

Charlie was sitting on a windowsill with her phone to her ear.

"Pick up. Pick up. Pick up. Pick up. Pick up. Pick up. Pick up. Pick up. Pick up. Pick up. Pick up. Pick up. Pick..."

"Sorry. The number you're calling is..."

"Shut the fuck up for Goodness Sake." she clenched her teeth.

Her family was probably dead by now. She was waiting for them in her apartment and missed the perfect moment to run away.

Now she will die here and she will be walking around like those things below her. She bit her lip and tried not to sob. She had to be quiet just in case one of those things was on her floor. So she just closed her eyes and let hot tears run down her face.

She was woken up by the glass of her window shaking. Everything was shaking.

Charlie rubbed her eyes and blinked a couple of times to adjust her vision. She looked out of the windows and saw around three helicopters. She narrowed her eyes and stood up from the windowsill. When she realized what was going on, she dropped to the floor and shut her eyes tight.

Bomb.

Bomb.

Bomb.

It was enough to make the whole city go completely dead. Power went out, so now she was standing in front of her window and watching as Atlanta was drowning in the dark.

Charlie could probably stay just like that. In the darkness and silence. Alone.

But after the bombs, there came shooting. It was military bullets, not some cheap shit. She ducked down and crawled on the floor, praying that shattered glass was the worst thing that could happen to her. 

Charlie didn't know for how long she was just lying there, watching the ceiling. Helicopters were gone and there was no shooting outside anymore.

It's not like hearing shotguns was something new these days.- she thought to herself.

Slowly she turned her head to the right and saw her ceiling lamp shattered on the floor. There were a lot of things on the floor, like for example framed photos, vases, and flowers. She examined the living room from her new perspective. Some bullets were stuck in the walls or some of the furniture, but at that moment she was glad that nothing damaged her doors as she heard scratching on the surface.

Her lip trembled as she heard snarling that she had become similar by now.

Charlie held her breath and just hopped for the best and the best in that case was that it would just shut up and go away, instead of bringing friends for a free meal. Again, she had no idea how long she was laying there before she made up her mind.

She had to leave.

Even if it was crazy and probably suicidal, she had to do something, because that would be better than just sitting around and basically waiting for death.

As quiet as she could be, Charlie tiptoed to her bedroom and pulled out the biggest bag that belonged to one of her brothers, while they were in military school. 

She didn't have much time. She had to leave...at this point, she needed to leave.

After opening her closet the inner woman just came to life as she decided that she had nothing to wear. She was the owner of heels and elegant dresses and well, she was almost sure that those weren't the best choices for the apocalypse.

"Stupid dumb thing you are Charlie." she whispered to herself.

With a heavy sigh, she took off her pajama top, which stuck on something on her neck, but she didn't have time to check what was, so she just pulled stronger. Her wide flannel trousers followed shortly after. She replaced them with skinny jeans and a shirt that hugged her body. From the very bottom of her closet, she took a pair of shoes that wouldn't make her slip on something or she wouldn't sprain her ankle while running.

While she was dressed, it was time to finally pack her things. Three pairs of jeans, around twenty tops or T-shirts, as many panties and socks as she could take and stuff into the bag. What she also found useful was some of her shirts, so without blinking she put them in.

She tiptoed once again to the kitchen as everything from her bedroom was already taken. As she was passing her dinner table something caught her eye and made her halt.

"Son of a bitch." she cursed quietly.

Apparently, bullets weren't stuck just in her walls, because one of them was just chilling in the middle of the table.

"That was mahogany."

But she didn't have much time to think about her table, though. Snarling and slow steps right behind her doors reminded her that she had some things to take care of.

From the bathroom, she took her toothbrush and toothpaste because everything else seemed to not be that important. In the kitchen, she was looking for food that was canned or had a long expiration date. She couldn't take a lot either, because the bag would be too heavy and couldn't move - let alone run. She also grabbed some knives from her kitchen counter, because she was sure that she would need more than just one.

She came up to a shelf in her living room and picked up a belt with a big, military/survival-type knife - present from her brothers. The only thing that wasn't really necessary was a photo of her and her brothers and other of her parents. She just wanted to have them.

Charlie stood up and looked around her, checking if she had everything she needed. As she was doing that she looked out of the window and a plan came up to her head, maybe she wasn't exactly stuck in here. If she would make it, she would be able to at least leave the building. She would worry about the next step if step one will work out.

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#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl x reader #daryl fanfiction #daryl twd #daryl dixon twd #daryl the walking dead #daryl dixon series

[wingedblooms]

Groundings

This is a Maasverse post, and as such, there are spoilers for all Maas series. Proceed with caution.

A mystic is someone who gains a heightened sense of consciousness and seeks to become one with divine beings. The word mystic derives from the Greek word to close the eyes or lips. When Elain uses powers that are reminiscent of mystics, she does this:

Elain again glanced at the map. At me. Then closed her eyes. Her eyes shifted shifted beneath her lids, the skin so delicate and colorless that the blue veins beneath were like small streams. "It moves...," she whispered. "It moves through the world like...like the breath of the western wind." (acowar)

As I mentioned in The Ancients, an oracle, which derives from the Latin word to pray or to speak, was believed to be a messenger, or conduit, for gods. In acowar, Feyre suspects that Elain hears the whisperings of the Cauldron. She is also more inclined to pray than her sisters, suggesting it to honor her father and using it when her younger sister is in mortal danger.

Had she beheld this, in whatever wanderings that new, inner sight granted her? Had the Cauldron whispered of it while we'd been away? I hadn't the heart to ask her. (acowar)

The Cauldron is connected to a divine trio (Mother, Cauldron, and Fate/Forces That Be) like the Three-Faced Goddess. Mystic and oracular powers seem to complement one another, and would suggest a deep connection with the gods. It makes sense for Elain to be able to gain higher consciousness, become one with gods, and act as a divine messenger and protector through her Sight with a combination of these gifts. I believe Nesta's interlude with the Mother was just the beginning. In The Ancients and The sense chanted, I mentioned that the Blueblood witches were known for their rituals in caverns and forests, and were considered oracles, mystics, and fanatics. The priestesses in the Night Court also have rituals in a cavern.

Gwyn huffed a soft laugh. “In part. We honor the Mother, and the Cauldron, and the Forces That Be. We have a service at dawn and at dusk, and on every holy day.” (acosf)

The dusk service helped Nesta scry with stones and bones. But what about the dawn service, a time of day Elain is repeatedly connected to?

Elain had already departed with Feyre, claiming she had to be up with the dawn to tend to an elderly faerie’s garden. Cassian didn’t exactly know why he suspected this wasn’t true. There had been some tightness in Elain’s face as she’d said it. Normally when she made such excuses, Lucien was around, but the male remained in the human lands with Jurian and Vassa. (acosf)

Elain wakes with the dawn to garden or bake, but Cassian suspects she wasn’t telling the truth in this scene. What could she have planned? This occurs after she says she can reacquaint herself with her powers, and that her family can find her when they wish to begin. It’s possible she began experimenting with her powers in earnest at this point. On winter solstice, Nesta suspects she might be training with the twins and/or spymaster, so that is one plausible option Sarah wanted to plant. Another possibility (and these can both be true, so it doesn’t have to be one or the other) is that Elain may have sought out knowledge about her gifts at the library and learned about the dawn ritual. Could the ritual the priestesses perform at dawn help Elain understand and hone at least one thread of her Sight? 

As Gwyn poured herself a glass, she said, “At the temple in Sangravah, we had a set of ancient movements that we would go through every sunrise. Not for battle training, but for calming the mind. We did cooldowns after those, too, though we called them groundings. The movements took us out of our bodies, in a way. Let us commune with the Mother. The groundings settled us back into the present world.” (acosf)

The wording here is interesting: the movements took them out of their bodies, in a way, and they used the groundings to settle back into the present world. This ritual sounds like what mystics might be able to do, and it also seems made for Elain for a few different reasons:

the time of day, as she is compared to the dawn;

the concept of drifting away to connect with the divine, as she sometimes behaves as though she isn’t entirely present;

the earthy term to remain tethered to the world, as she is a gardener and brings forth life from the ground.

What if the priestesses in the library do something similar at dawn through ancient movements rather than ancient songs (or both)? While it would make sense for this ritual to take place underground in the same cavern, there might be a reason reclusive Blueblood witches needed access to the wind. Does it help them become an unseen force, help them travel on the wind? I can imagine Elain with her eyes closed, embracing the song of the wind as the sun rises with her consciousness, her soul.

@silverdreamscape theorized about Gwyn and Elain using their powers together, and I think that’s a possibility given the presence of priestesses in the bonus. They will continue to play a part moving forward and one (or several) of them could be helpful as Elain explores her powers since they may also seek to commune with the divine. Like calls to like, after all.

Elain said to Azriel, perhaps the only two civilized ones here, “Can you truly fly?” He set down his fork, blinking. (acomaf)

She angled her head, hair shining like molten metal. “Do you sing?” He blinked. (Azriel’s bonus chapter) 

These conversations are separated by time and space, but they are eerie in their similarity. It’s like the Harp echoing Elain’s earlier words about reacquainting herself with her powers. And it inevitably brings me back to the two glass caverns: could the priestesses, and perhaps Gwyn specifically, function like sister-glass for Elain, linked in song and dreaming? What would it look like to commune with the Mother, or travel with the Cauldron? Something like this, I'd imagine:

I could not remove my hand. Could not pry my fingers away. I was being shredded apart, slowly, thoroughly. I flung my magic out, desperate for any chain to this world to save me, keep me from being devoured by the eternal, awful thing that now tried to drag me into its embrace. [...] Some tether slipped, and my mind slid closer to the Cauldron’s outstretched arms. I felt it touch me. 

And then I was half gone. Half there, standing silently next to the Cauldron, hand glued to the black rim. Half…elsewhere. (acowar)

Feyre becomes one with the Cauldron through a living bond. She is half there, half elsewhere like a mystic. This is a liminal space, like the time when services occur and the bridge where light and dark meet. It is a time of transformation. Elain's wooden rose is also placed in a liminal space next to the Mother on the mantel, giving us a big hint for her future:

Her gaze shifted to the carved wooden rose she’d placed upon the mantel, half-hidden in the shadows beside a figurine of a supple-bodied female, her upraised arms clasping a full moon between them. Some sort of primal goddess–perhaps even the Mother herself. (acosf)

Now, let's look at how the Cauldron moves through the world to imagine how Elain might move if she communes with it:

Flying through the world. Searching. The Cauldron now hunted for that power that had come so close … And now taunted it. Nesta. The Cauldron searched for her, searched for her as the king now sought her. It skimmed across the battlefield like an insect over the surface of a pond. (acowar)

-

Come, Nesta’s power seemed to sing. Come. The Cauldron caught her scent and hurtled us onward. We arrived before the king did. The Cauldron seemed to skid to a halt at the clearing. Seemed to coil and reel back, a snake poised to strike.

The Cauldron moves like a force, starting as an otherworldly bird of prey and shifting form as it moves. If this reminds you of Elain and Urd, the goddess of fate, you're tracking with me.

Time seemed to slow and warp. The dark power of the king speared toward us. Toward that clearing where I was neither seen nor heard, where I was nothing but a scrap of soul carried on a black wind. (acowar)

A scrap of soul on a black wind, she says? That sounds familiar.

But Mor scented nothing, saw nothing. The tendril of power she speared toward the woods revealed only the usual birds and small beasts. A hart drinking from a hole in an iced-over stream. Nothing, except— There, between a snarl of thorns. A patch of darkness. It did not move, did not seem to do anything but linger. And watch. Familiar and yet foreign. Something in her power whispered not to touch it, not to go near it. Even from this distance. Mor obeyed. But she still watched that darkness in the thorns, as if a shadow had fallen asleep amongst them. Not like Azriel’s shadows, twining and whispering. Something different. Something that stared back, watching her in turn. (acofas)

A patch of darkness between a snarl of thorns. Interesting. Familiar and yet foreign, like Silba’s voice. In Oorid, Nesta hears a mysterious voice and a disturbance in the thorns while she is on a mission to retrieve the mask. This voice attempts to warn her of the danger she faces, just like Elain warned Feyre in Hybern.

Run, a small voice whispered. Run and run, and do not look back. The voice was female, gentle. Wise and serene. 

-

Run. Was that voice merely all that remained of her human instincts, or something more? She gazed at her reflection as if it would tell her. 

-

Something rustled in the thorns of the island, and she snapped up her head, heart thundering as she scanned for that familiar male face and wings. But there was no sign of Cassian. And whatever was in that bramble…she should find another island to head for. (acosf)

The thorns remind Nesta of roses when she first arrives, and that patch of darkness on Mor's estate looked as though it had fallen asleep among the thorns...but it was still watchful, like the Eye of the Goddess. A dark bloom resting among the thorns, a scrap of soul on a black wind. This reminds me of Elain’s hidden movement and her mental gates, where the Cauldron made its deepest mark.

The gates to her mind … Solid iron, covered in vines of flowers—or it would have been. The blossoms were all sealed, sleeping buds tucked into tangles of leaves and thorns. (acowar)

Who would know about Nesta's mission in Oorid, and who would act from the shadows to help and protect her? There's a clear answer that takes us back to the the Cauldron's hunt for its stolen power.

Not again. I could not watch this play out again. Standing by, idle, while those I loved suffered. The Cauldron crept along with Nesta, a hound at her side.

A hound at her side, hmm? Now, where have I heard that recently?

...Az would have told him already if he'd wanted to share what had been hounding him enough to exercise at night, rather than in the morning with them. (acosf)

-

Elain was like a dog, loyal to whatever master kept her fed and in comfort. (acosf)

Feyre senses the Cauldron's surprise when Nesta covers Cassian with her body, just as Elain sensed its anger when power was taken from it. And when hope seems lost, Feyre begs for a divine intervention. And it comes not from the Cauldron, like she expected, but Elain.

Anything, I begged the Cauldron. Anything— 

The king’s hand began to drop. And then halted. A choking noise came out of him. For a moment, I thought the Cauldron had answered my pleas. But as a black blade broke through the king’s throat, spraying blood, I realized someone else had. Elain stepped out of a shadow behind him, and rammed Truth-Teller to the hilt through the back of the king’s neck as she snarled in his ear, “Don’t you touch my sister.” 

After hunting her down in different forms, the Cauldron creeps along Nesta like a hound at the end. Elain then appears out of shadow in its stead and snarls like a hound, fast as the wind and loyal to the end. I’ve wondered before if Elain’s Sight functions like this living bond. The Suriel comments on seeing her doe eyes from across the world, so I imagine her form may be fluid like the divine trio when she uses her Sight. Her eyes even shift beneath her lids as she hunts like the Cauldron, the blue veins compared to water.

Her eyes shifted beneath her lids, the skin so delicate and colorless that the blue veins beneath were like small streams. “It moves …,” she whispered. “It moves through the world like … like the breath of the western wind.” (acowar)

And when Mor explains the difference between faeries and witches at Nesta's request, the focus moves to Elain as she casually observes the tent. The light dances in her mass of hair as it shifts. All before her appearance is glamoured to help and protect others.

Elain silently surveyed the tent, head tipping back. Her mass of heavy brown-gold hair shifted with the movement, the faelight dancing among the silken strands. […] Elain at last slid into the chair near Mor’s, her dawn-pink dress—finer than the ones she usually wore—crinkling beneath her. “Will—will many of these soldiers die?” (acowar)

This dawn ritual, if it is in fact something similar to what priestesses did in Sangravah, might be enough to keep her grounded in most cases. But I can also imagine a scenario where Elain travels in the embrace of that eternal, ancient beast too long or too deep, and loses sight of her body and her home like the forest witch in the Hind's tale. How else might she find her way back if that happens?

"But one day, a warrior arrived in the forest. He'd heard of the monster so vicious none could kill it and live. She set out to slaughter him, but when the warrior beheld her, he was not afraid. He stared at her, and she at him, and he wept because he didn't see a thing of nightmares, but a creature of beauty. He saw her, and he was not afraid of her, and he loved her. [...] His love transformed her back into a witch, melting away all that she'd become. They dwelled in peace in the forest for the rest of their immortal lives." (hosab)

The forest witch had a warrior who found her transformation, her monstrous form and power, beautiful. His love for who she became, not who she once was grounded her. So, who is Elain's warrior? I believe it’s going to be someone who won't flee from a patch of darkness, familiar and yet foreign. Someone who acknowledges the beauty in her mighty power, and hears what she cannot say, sees the heavy burden that she bears. Someone whose gentle voice she can follow in the void, singing her home across space and time. Someone who embraces Elain in all her forms, their hand an anchor in the vast tapestry of the universe.

Series: wise woman. seer. witch.

#the last post…for now #witch elain #witchy elain #witchy archeron sisters #acotar witches #tog witches #crescent city witches #maasverse witches #groundings #dawn ritual #prythian priestesses #mother cauldron fate #eye of the goddess #oracles mystics fanatics #elain archeron

[thediaryofa20somethinggirl]

week one

week one of i don't even know. i just want to write.

the week started with a two-day fast; a cleansing of my stomach as i thought she was swollen. my binge eating disorder is slowly taking more and more control over me; before bed snacks of oatmeal and dried tart cherries, empanadas, eggs with hot sauce, and multiple oatmeal raisin cookies. i then wake up with a stomach almost triple its normal size. to make me feel better i pretend im pregnant. i give her a name, and i tell myself to be strong for her. i then kill her with three laxatives, three digestive enzymes, and three pills of apple cider vinegar - making my stomach feel cold, shitting her out the next day. i told myself that monday would be the last binge. i relapsed both thursday and friday this week. we will try again tomorrow, saturday, and i will win and loose weight and regain control. guilt and regret isn't productive. im too focused on getting better, to spend an unreasobale amount of time umination on how much of a shit person i am. its the only option. tomorrow starts the goal of daily exersize, besides being at work. i am delaring my success now.

family came to visit this week, from Monday morning to Thursday morning. family i havent seen in almost 4 years. family i haven't talked to in 5. family that my mom resented, even till the day she died. i wonder if those feeling have changed.

one thing my mom taught me, was that change is work but growing is work too. if you want to grow with someone, and make something out of the relationship you have with eachother, you need to not only be able to be vulerable and talk about hard and uncomfotable things. you have to be willing to change: for yourself ALWAYS for yourself, grow for others, change for you. i need to change for myself, be more vulerable with myself, and work through hard things - not numb myself with drugs and sex. not distract myself with work. no more waiting for tomorrow. i’m changing today, im changed right now and i am going to act as if i already have. oprah taught me that life is filled with good and bad. the two can't exist without eachother. the perfect pair, the most effortless way of being perfect pair.

i’m realizing that this is life; periods of good and bad. maybe this is just that bad part, the part that is needed to give me perspective understanding. as much as dealing with what i’m dealing with has been extremely isolating and exhausting, it’s offered me perspective, depth. i know things that people who’d through hard things only know. i wake up with a different sense of awareness and go to bed that much more full. im holding onto the idea that the good part will be coming later, hopefully soon. i’m the one who decided what’s next.

that’s what’s stressed me out the most this week; thinking about what’s next. i need my mom; not only to help me get over her passing, but to help guide me. to give a sense of belief in myself. selfishly, if i needed a boost of ego, i could ask stupid questions and fish my mom. most of the time i just have to stalk her facebook to remember who the fuck i am. also reminder that i’m HER daughter, and that is more worth than i need. i taking pleasure in the study of how similar our faces resemble our blood relation. looking at photos of her at my age now, making me giddy at the naive thought of us being twins. hoping that this innate obsession of our mother daughter friendship warrants our existence in our past lives, with promise for reunion in the next one. oh, please wait for me!

i keep picturing myself, interviewing with Oprah talking about the hit release of my first-ever book; the motivations behind it, and hopes for the future. how i create my art for me and only, being completely selfish with it. however, throughout this interview, i have no idea what the book it is that i wrote. that’s my goal; to write a book. but i have to start with the idea. let’s make that the goal for next week.

the more you lead with love the more love will follow.

the mantra of the week, the thing i keep telling myself to overcome any anger i have toward anyone - to be at peace with maybe just meeting you at wherever the fuck your at - and not taking anything personal. protecting my peace and not giving u the power of my anger.

however, i avoided my family as they visited; refusing to cause confrontation as my filter is broken and needs constant fixing, charging. and since my mom died - that filter has been gathering dust in the corner. i simply don't give a fuck. and i felt that in my bones, the pure social sphere of having a stranger in my house only 3 weeks after my mother died, loosens my tounge and hungers my asshole to begin to eat my underwear. acting on emotion rather than logic, and avoidance is my way of still digesting these angry and tense emotions. fiercely defending till the end. i dont fuck with sweeping things underneath the rug.

so how did i stay away, and avoid? i spent my time working, and when i wasn't working i was attempting english homework, that i have still yet to finish. Saturday, i keep telling myself, Saturday is when I finish. i'll keep you updated. since i haven't finished, i was procrastiating my time, putting it elsewere; filling three hefty trash bags full of colored clothing - only to be replaced will an all black wardrobe with few white, grey and navy accents. i want to feel chic again. i want to feel myself again. i wonder what i'll wear tomorrow.

i spent my day off deep cleaning, and getting my eyebrows done which also are installing small pulses of i don’t give ANY fucks energy throughout my face and walk. my eyebrows are bushy but clean, and i am unstoppable.

today at work, i decided to wear an oversized dad sweater, that houses a mid-size picture of a beautiful garden; greenery with accents of white birdhouses and benches as characters in the scene. it made me feel a sense of humidity, a strange feeling which motivated me to support the 99c purchase. the oversized dad sweater that housed a photo of a humid garden accessorised with two nods of praise; one from a boy who i can only describe as the purest man of florida; small calfs followed by the thunderous suprise of thick thighs - a solid lap to sit on. his legs were dressed with mid thigh athetic shorts, making his thighs appear hairless and even more thick than expected. because of small his calfs looked. he wore a plan black t shirt, allowing his pecks to make an indentation to were the shirt falls. his feet were exposed - something common in florida, something every proud floridian embraces; the ability to be walking almost barefoot. something that i rarely do, almost never, even at the beach - as my feet may not be ugly but crave the dressing of an 80's chucky socks followed by a chunky sneaker. his feet were dressed in a clean, almost new looking of black unrecogonizable sldies. clean enough to be expesniive looking, but plain enough to be bought at the dollar store. a physical representation of things that cost money don't always mean they are better. "sometimes things that are expsive are worse." his toes were clean however, inspected for judgement rather than enjoyment, giving the impression that he puts effort into his heigne; a signal to flirt.

when he made his way to the cash register, i didn't allow the anxiety of his attractivesness show; keeping my voice calm not letting myself rush, embracing the akward silence of the slow register in the store, and no desire to talk. we locked eyes multiple times; him showcasing to me piercing blue eyes that look even more piercing, on the backslash of his sunkissed skin - another florida staple. almost like makeup. a handsome face, a manly face, i thought. the only thing that i didn't get to perceive was his hair - mainly as it was covered with a black bass pro baseball cap. something that reminded me of my grandpa; large and flat brimmed. i couldn't tell if his compliment was a sign of flirting or just being nice. maybe he just wanted to fill the silence of my lackluster desire for conversation. maybe he just said it to say it. i will never know, and i have to move the fuck on.

the second compliment also came at the cash register; this time from a girl. flirting with girls is something, i really never do. i tend to get more intimidated in the sense of my questioning if a woman could ever be attracted to a girl like me. i don't and didn't allow that thought to win this time, especially coming off of florida mans encounter.

shes a regular, seeing her only days before. her style consdiently mirrored that her florida man co star; housing her body in all black, giving emphasis of her silver butterfly knecklace that rests perfectly in the center of her chest - making me think of my tattoo. making me feel warm in my cheeks, and itchy in my toes.

her smile was clean, something i could suck on and feel refreshed; a crystal clean glass of iceless cool water. eye contact lingered, and i couldn't tell if she was flirty. the words ill see ya next time are now an obsession; playing on repated for the whole night, even now as I type the reencounter of our meeting.

that was the most interesting thing that happened at work today. that and we almost caught a woman stealing; a young white woman with a puppy named Chanel and a doggy stroller. her face reminded me of Amanda Bines, in the snese that it was the canvas for a small heart tattoo that also sits under the left eye. she was nice to me, especally as i tried to help her finds books. i could tell she was trying to steal, which made me second guess the genuineness of our conversation; trying to take advantage of the fact that i am nice. i really gave her the benefit of the doubt, until she lost her wallet last minute; leaving $350 worth of business and self help books on hold for tomorrow at 11am. my shift starts at that time. ill let you know if i see her again. i really hope to.

well that’s it for this week, for now. my goals? get my homework in and be caught up. go a whole week without cutting myself. to go a whole week without binge eating.

xx

mattea

#diary #dear diary

[supernaturalkickparty]

So I'm sick and can't be near my son and it's killing me. So here's a gen teenchesters ficlet I wrote with sick sammy and caretaker Dean

Dean was pulled from his sleep by the sound of violent retching and Sam's sniffles. He knew it was going to happen eventually, a lot of kids at the last high school had been sick from the cafeteria food. They both hoped that Sam wouldn't get sick, Dean knows full well how much Sam hates throwing up.

"Sammy, you good?" Dean went straight for him, pushing his sweat soaked bangs out of the way.

"No. I can't stop hurling." Sam whined, eyes screwed shut as he had his arms wrapped around his thin frame. It worried Dean, Sam was already too thin and too small for fifteen.

"Let me see if we have any pepto or something. I'll be right back."

He went through their makeshift med kit, trying to find any form of medication for Sam, who was currently puking his guts out.

"De!" Sam cried from the bathroom, Dean found the bottle at the bottom of the box, rushing back to the bathroom.

He hated seeing his brother sick, nothing scared him more than anytime Sammy's gotten sick. He grabbed a washcloth, ran it under the cold water, he hoped a cold compress would help Sam's heated clammy skin.

"Here, chug this in one go. It'll get you better." Dean pressed the compress to Sam's forehead, wiping away the sweat from his face.

Sam gagged as he drank the foul pink medicine.

"You lied to me." Sam leaned against Dean, wincing in pain.

"What are you talking about?" Dean was completely confused by that. He wasn't sure what Sam was talking about.

"When I was six, you told me if I threw up enough that I would never have to throw up again." Sam tried to chuckle, it came out more of a pained huff as he leaned further into Dean.

"Yeah and I told you that if I rubbed your stomach that it would help it go away faster." Dean chuckled. He remembered that time, their dad was supposed to be gone for two days and had ended up being gone a whole week. Sammy had never been sick from his stomach before and he wasn't sure what to do. He called his dad panicking, not sure what to give him until their dad calmly talked him down and told him what to grab from the corner store and promised he was going to be rushing back.

They sat there in silence, Sam leaned forward towards the toilet, throwing up once more. Dean held his shaggy hair back, rubbing his back.

"It's ok Sammy, shh. I know that this sucks man. You just need to get the infection out of your system." He continued to rub his back until Sam fell back against him.

"Do you…I mean do you think you can rub my stomach? You feel so warm and the warmth helps." Sam kept his eyes closed, leaning further into Dean. He knew fully well that Dean wouldn't say no.

"Brat." Dean scoffed, moving his hands to Sam's stomach. He normally would have calmed him bitch, but he was saving that teasing for whenever Sam was healthy enough to talk back.

Sam groaned, mumbling that he feels sore and hurts all over.

"It's gonna be ok. This'll blow over soon." He spoke softly as he rubbed his hand in small circles over Sam's stomach. He could feel the rumblings underneath. He hoped that Sam wasn't going to be sick the rest of the night and that this was just his stomach trying to settle.

Eventually he had dragged Sam off to bed. They had fallen asleep sometime around five in the morning, Dean waking at every little sound Sam made.

School wasn't an option for Sam and Dean didn't have a job at the moment since their dad was the next town over.

He looked over at Sam, noting how he wasn't clammy looking or as pale anymore. He still didn't look quite healthy but it was an improvement from last night.

Sam slept until one o'clock, only waking when he heard the motel door opening.

"Hey, how are you feeling? I did a quick run to the gas station. I got you some gatorade and those unsalted crackers you like." Dean set the bags on the opposite bed that was still made up.

Sam vaguely remembers Dean staying in his bed the night before.

"I feel really sore and my throat hurts."

"Your stummy don't hurt anymore?" Dean smirked.

"Oh fuck off, I was a little kid when I would say that." Sam threw a pillow at his laughing brother.

"I know, I was remembering how you used to say that." Dean handed Sam a drink and some crackers. "Talked to dad earlier, he's on his way back already, do you think you can handle riding in the car or do you think you're gonna spew some more?"

Sam grimaced as he took a sip of the gatorade.

"Not gonna have much of a choice, if dad's ready to go we have to go."

"Yeah but I already told him how sick you were last night. He's the one who wants to know if you can handle the drive." Dean handed him a couple more of the crackers, waiting on him to think it over.

"I guess we can wait and see how I'm feeling later…thanks for taking care of me last night."

"No problem, I mean I wasn't going to get much sleep with you hurling up a lung all night."

The brothers both smiled softly at each other, the moment quickly ruined as Sam bolted to the bathroom throwing up whatever little he had eaten.

"You're stummy again?" Dean made a face as Sam loudly retched.

"Fuck you jerk." Sam shouted from the bathroom.

"Love you too bitch, I'm already grabbing the pepto."

#ash writes #spn #supernatural #gen fic #caretaker!dean #bigbrother!dean #sick!sam #teenchesters #teen sam winchester #teen dean winchester #i got food poisoning so now sam does #spn fic #fluff

[careless-with-your-heart]

Lay You in the Ground (WIP CHAPTER) - An iZombie AU - Blaine x OFC Fic

Kiss me.

Those two little words reverberate in his brain for the next several hours, so aggressively intrusive despite their softness that Blaine can’t focus on the task at hand—the new online ordering option that will run through the Point-of-Sale system of Romero’s, allowing brain purchases to print cheerily out into the kitchen as custom menu items. The potential to make even more money, even more under the radar. Normally, he would be all ears. But Blaine barely even hears as Darcy explains the intricacies of the new network.

He registers words, vaguely.

“…and it’s critical that the actual products that go into those menu items be added to the kitchen order to cover the true nature of our “special deliveries.”

The meaning is clouded by the memory of big, dark eyes looking up at him. Soft, warm lips millimeters from his own. A heartbeat so loud in his ears, beating so fast that he wonders how she didn't faint. Then, the words that are both a heady arousal and an albatross, making him ache and scaring the shit out of him at the same time.

She'd been so close, so tempting. He has no idea how he’d mustered the willpower to leave that room.

Kiss me. Don’t you want to?

He wants to. So badly. In fact, thinking about kissing Catherine Cohen takes up way too much of his average day—even eking into the late hours, when he lays in bed awake, thinking about all the delightful little ways she would react to his kiss. And then, to his hands on her. His mouth on her. His body over hers. Hers, trapped beneath his, with none of the flirty back-and-forth, no means of escape.  

His little runaway—there’s also that. The woman fled Vegas with twenty large of the mob’s money. And despite how he’d reassured her, Blaine isn’t a hundred-percent confident that whoever this Foreman guy is, he’s the type to take twenty Gs as a write-off. But if Kitty’s father has already paid the fatal price, there’s the shakiest of chances that the debt’s considered paid.

But also the chance that the tab’s still open, running, and gaining interest.

A problem, perhaps, but not for right now. 

Now, Blaine blinks and looks at the pair of Darcy and Don E, who are both smiling broadly. He returns the gesture, expert at pantomime. He gestures to the office surrounding them, the extra monitor that will soon display the new orders.

“It all looks great. Let’s start slow, though, yeah? Offer this to our higher-paying customers. VIP. We’ll roll it out on a small scale. Darcy, can you hang here tomorrow night just in case I need to work out any kinks?”

Darcy blanches. Blaine, realizing his choice of words, winces. “With the system. I promise, no more dramatic movie kisses.”

Blaine cracks a real grin when Don E. scoots a little closer to his wife.

Unearthing his cell phone from his jacket pocket, Blaine wakes the screen to check the time. An hour until The Post opens. Romero’s is already in full swing, and the sound of dinner service sifts back to them, clinking and shouting and the crackle and hiss of flame and steam sounding almost intentionally arranged.

An alert makes Blaine swipe again, to bring up the security feed that surveils the area surrounding The Post. In the short clip that pops up, a man lurks in the alley just a block over, smoking. The time stamp is ten minutes past. Then, another alert—this time, the same man, across the street and visible in the camera feed that is mounted above the front door.

Something about the man—short, stocky, thinning hair and heavy eyebrows, a nervous shift back and forth from foot to foot that’s apparent even at a distance—makes Blaine uneasy. Right now, The Post would be occupied only by back-room girls, Chief if he’d decided to be early, and…Kitty.

Blaine watches on the front camera as the man shuffles to the edge of the far sidewalk, watching traffic, seeming to prepare for a jaywalk to The Post.

“Trouble, boss?” Don asks.

Blaine isn’t sure. But he puts his phone to sleep and tucks it away.

“No, no. Bums setting off the cameras. You know what? Don, take the night off. I’ll go work The Post tonight. As a thank you for all you’ve done”—he bows slightly—“and an apology for getting so intimately acquainted with your wife’s tonsils, stay and have dinner. On the house.”

Darcy squeals and jumps, clapping. “Really? Oh, we haven’t had a date night in forever. Baby, can we? Can we? Please?”

She punctuates her plea with a few well-placed kisses on Don’s smooth cheeks, landing last on his lips, pulling him in for a kiss that almost rivals the one that Blaine had laid on her. The kiss that had been impulsively intended for the woman Blaine was now—suddenly—very anxious about.

A problem for later's become a problem for right now.

Blaine leaves Don and Darcy still in flagrante as he hurries past diners and dodges staff on his way out into the darkening Seattle evening. The man lurking outside of The Post—he'd had a very Vegas look about him.

#more soon #promise i haven't forgotten #izombie #blaine debeers #original female character #fanfiction #fanfic #wip #au #get out of my brain little puppets

[scratchandplaster]

Stack The Deck - PART 11

CW: obsessive thoughts, drug mention

Intermezzo ⇽ [Masterlist] ⇾ PART 12

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Yaletown Park looked more like a rocky desert than anything adjacent to the open hangout it was sold as, especially in the hollow glow of the streetlights. Caught between high-risers and vacant retail space, the few square meters of cobble only offered some trash or needles to pluck from the ground. If the grass patches shooting out here and there were ever kept trim in the first place remained a mystery.

Behind a strategically chosen planter sat a reserved man, smoking the second pack of the day and stewing in his jaded mood, still waiting for whoever wanted to stop by. All this was normal for Morris by now.

The evening had started promising, with frat boys strolling along the sidewalk and a few girls in tow; a view that was starting to become more and more frequent. He smiled joylessly, remembering how he met Amber on a night like this.

More than a year must've passed since then, he figured, trying to cling onto thoughts that wouldn't shock him with memories of someone he didn't have to think about anymore. At least when he was chased around enough.

"You're gonna sit there until I tell you otherwise!"

Goddamn. Not that it was easy for Belanger either, patrolling the streets to prospect the usual scum. No regret laid in avoiding each other, but since Morris was dependent on any signal to engage with the more casual clientele, he was stuck in place. 

That's what I get for my not so tight scheduling. 

As a fixer caught at the bottom of the food chain, and honest to god no agency or willingness to change his position, it was better to keep his mouth shut and head down. But with skin still in the game, did he have another option? For all he cared, they could make him do their laundry and scrub all crack houses of the state squeaky-clean. Anything else than ending up in Dutch's office with that thing-  

Another thought he quickly shoved aside, another problem to ignore till it blew up.

Except a lone hobo who threw up way too close to his shoes, nothing ripped Morris out of the daydreaming that kept his last sliver of sanity alive. The risk of being arrested on the spot or stabbed to death by someone who needed cash even more than him aside, the prize of it all was just...surviving.

"One day you wake up, and your whole life is spent in what?" Amber's life lesson was now sober reality, spot-on to the last detail.

Hearing her voice again used to pierce through his gut and leave him wrecked with self-hatred, although these feelings had died down in the time they spent apart. Not that he didn't try to distract himself from the distraction, oh no, he had several chances to drown out boiling memories of past love during the spring months, but this year it was different. Nobody was waiting at home. Morris couldn't let go, not this time, not since her...since him-

If Belanger didn't call right now, he would find a good use for all those narcotics in his pocket.

A break from it all, that's what he needed to work himself to the bone for. 

Wrapping his leather jacket closer around his body, Morris wished to disappear into it completely. Even the colorful August couldn't hide that it had gotten colder in the last days of an already far too chilly summer. 

Without any warning, his peaceful solitude was interrupted again. 

A figure stumbled blindly along the sidewalk. Morris' gaze followed them closely, how disoriented feet pushed each other forward and finally letting them flop down onto a bench near the park's exit.

Drunk or high, certainly. Care for another round? 10 bucks for a flat of fentanyl - dark green, quite popular at the moment. 

Still, Belanger didn't give him the go-ahead yet. Maybe he should make today's slow business hum: be proactive, independent. Write it on a resume, why not.

His stiff knee gave an audible crack as it was forced to stand straight, lazily stretching the sore muscles in his back and taking the first few steps towards his potential customer, Morris started to become flustered. 

Could be a setup, for all he knew. Something was off. 

The soon-to-be buyer was wrapped up in shadows, sitting quietly by themself and only rarely mumbling at the stones below their feet.

He approached until their shoes nearly touched, time to play offense: "You good?"

Nothing. Awkward, he wasn't used to making the first move like this.

Shoving at the motionless shoulders only made their head flop forward, and a forced sigh quickly followed it. First week on campus, probably, lost their friends and self-control only to aimlessly walk around the neighborhood.

"You definitely had enough fun for today, buddy," Morris scoffed, ready to turn around. 

Suddenly, he faltered. They had to rethink Belanger's strategy if he ought to stay here, passed-out freshmen were only good for catching unwanted attention and as long as Dutch didn't want to see his ass in jail, any cops on patrol should be avoided. Not that they lost sleep about the mass of catatonic bodies scattered throughout the city streets, just when they were seen in the wrong parts of town - the pleasant ones.

"Move," so he demanded, quickly lifting up their chin, nestled against the stiff collar of their windbreaker, with his fist. "You're gonna get me in trouble."

The hot breath against Morris' hand sent shivers up his spine. After nights like these, he felt mostly frozen numb, but the air coming out in labored and shallow puffs let his fingers tingle with newfound life.

Suddenly, the howl of an ambulance cut through the silence. Not for them, of course, it was surely headed east. As it took a turn and rushed past the unusual couple, Morris caught a quick glimpse of his vis-à-vis.

For less than a heartbeat, his body froze.

His mouth began to open and close like a fish on land, unable to produce a single word, whilst the prickle spread from his back through every inch of his body. A wonderful illusion bloomed under the blue-red-blue-red flicker and as quickly as it had reached both, it left them alone in the nightly glow of streetlights.

Morris didn't hear himself gasp, the rush of blood in his ears was too deafening. Now dead focused on the freckle-sprinkled skin, tousled dark hair and soft lashes, an inward pull kept him from blinking: the fear that he would be ripped out of his trance.

No dream, no wishful thinking. Morris would recognize this face anywhere.

"Elliot?"

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Thanks for reading 🤍 [Masterlist]

Taglist: @whatwasmyprevioususername, @canislycaon24

#stack the deck #christoph morris oc #elliot ribera oc #they are b-b-b-back #only took me 8 months whoops #happy halloween #nothing is scarier than meeting your whumper while plastered #whump series #kidnapping #not really but kinda #whump #whumpblr #creative writing #whump community #lima syndrome #drug mention #accidental overdose #disabled whumpee #drug addiction #fentanyl mention #obsessive whumper #recapture #but offscreen

[goshdangronpa]

In SDR2, Ibuki Mioda bites the dust as a result of Monokuma’s latest diabolical motive, the Despair Disease. This element, and Chapter 3 as a whole, remain controversial in the fandom. I’ve seen quite a few YouTube videos proposing “fixes” for the storyline (TinyLeaf’s thoughtful rewrite comes to mind). Many fans think the whole motive is too nonsensical to be salvaged. I happen to find it interesting, and I’d like to keep it in "I DISAGREE: An Ibuki Mioda SDR2 Protag Swap AU" … with a few radical changes of my own.

Down with the Sickness: Starting the Game with Despair Disease

First, let’s review the basics of the Despair Disease. It’s …

A motive! One of Monokuma’s ways to push ordinarily non-homicidal teenagers into concocting and enacting fiendish murder plots. I’m not sure if I’ll invent any new ones for this AU. The ones currently in SDR2 really compel me. That said, I’m definitely not just copying and pasting them. AUs are for bold rethinking, and I’d like to twist this thing around and freshen things up.

More literally, a communicable illness. While symptoms include fevers and fatigue, the standout side effect is a major reversal of the sufferer’s personality. Some say it turns people into their exact opposite, which seems … a bit simplistic, but it’s a good starting point. It might be most accurate to say that the infected is definitely not acting like themself.

Well … a bit bullshit. I agree with many of the criticisms often leveled at this plot device. The drama of Danganronpa comes from thoroughly fleshed-out characters taking desperate actions based not just on their circumstances, but on who they are and what they value or stand for. A magical personality rewiring doesn’t keep with that. Still, there’s something spicy about characters suddenly becoming different, becoming unpredictable, losing control over themselves …

So yeah, I’m keeping it for this AU. But I’m not keeping Chapter 3 intact. This most contentious of Danganronpa plot points will actually move to the very beginning of the story!

Well, almost. The beats of the beginning will stay the same, with virtually the only differences being that Mikan wakes up Ibuki (who foams at the mouth and faints from the island reveal) and they meet everyone at the beach (besides Hajime, who passed out cold). This story still needs those precious few days before things start really going downhill. Time for characters to discuss their options over communal breakfasts, explore their surroundings, and grapple with the reality of their new nightmare lives. Time for them to get to know each other … but not much time at all.

One morning, a few of them are acting out. Granted, they all still think of each other as a little strange, but this erratic behavior seems different. It’s not long before Mikan Tsumiki notices that those classmates’ foreheads are running hot, and Monokuma finally confirms that the first motive is a contagious illness. He’s stingy with details, asserting that the Ultimate Nurse and all these other Hope’s Peak smarties can figure out the details. What he will reveal is that it’ll keep spreading until another life ends through less natural causes.

What a world of difference this rearrangement of events would make! Consider: by Chapter 3, the characters (and the player) already know each other well enough to recognize exactly what’s happening with the Despair Disease. They know to be weirded out by Akane’s nonstop weeping, Nagito’s baseless conspiracy theories, and Ibuki’s mindless obedience. At this early point, (almost) no one will know what to think of their infected classmates’ behavior. Is it that hysteria is a symptom, showing differently in each person? Is it just a normal psychological reaction to an abnormal situation, exacerbated by high body temperature? Is it … something else?

That’s what Mikan and her brave volunteers, including our plucky protag, will spend Chapter 1 investigating. One change cascades into an entirely fresh chapter, and those changes in turn will affect the entire narrative.

To be clear, I’m not doing any of this to “fix” SDR2 Chapter 3. It’s not like I think I’m fixing SDR2 by recasting another character as the main! This is all a creative exercise, a writer’s playtime between the boring day job and more serious personal projects. With that said, I wonder if Despair Disease haters might get something out of what comes from this decision. I’ll share more of this story next time.

PREV: The Major Side Characters

NEXT: The AU Narrative's Chaotic First Three Mornings

#I DISAGREE: An Ibuki Mioda SDR2 Protag Swap AU #danganronpa #sdr2 #goodbye despair #ibuki mioda #despair disease

[misscaptainamericana]

Twenty-Three

content warning: pregnancy, covid, dodger's surgery, chris cries a lot in this chapter, and i think that's it?

word count: 3637

a/n: not proofread, so sorry

Chris came into the kitchen to his brother finishing up stuffed raviolis, “She go to bed already?” 

Scott nodded, “We were making dinner and she got pretty sick, and after that she was just over it. So she had one of those protein shake things and some applesauce before telling me goodnight.”

“That’s too bad, how long ago?”

“Eh, forty-ish minutes.” 

“Alright, do you mind if I scarf down dinner really quick and go lay with her?”

“Oh no, not at all! I actually, uhm, I have a date to get ready for.” 

Chris got a beer out of the fridge before turning back to his brother with an amused smile, “Oh?” 

“Yeah.” Scott said blushing slightly before beginning to plate up their food. 

“What’s his name?”

“Steve.”

“Have I met him?” He asked before taking a swig of beer. 

“No, I think even I’ve only met him once or twice but our friends set us up.”

“That’s great! I’m happy for you!” 

“Thank you, I was a little worried I would be alone forever after you know who.” 

After dinner and a little more conversation, Chris stripped down to his underwear before he slipped into bed behind her and began gently rubbing her outer thigh. Nicole smiled with a light hum before rolling over to face him, “You’re finally here.”

He couldn’t help but smile at how cute she looked when she was half asleep, “How are ya, pretty lady?”

“I’m okay. I’m just tired is all.” She answered before pressing her forehead against his chest.

He wrapped both arms around her and kissed the side of her head, “I see that. You okay other than being tired?”

“Mhm, even better now that you’re here.”

“You’re too sweet to this old man.” He jokingly said and squeezed her a little tighter. “I took the dogs for one last big walk around the yard so they should be tuckered out until morning.”

She simply nodded against his chest starting to fall back to sleep as the sound of his heart beat comforted her back to sleep.

Days passed of him seeing her be miserable Chris decided to spend a day researching what he could do to help her morning sickness until he found a helpful handful of options for her.

Any more morning sickness?” “Nope, that bagel before bed really seems to be a miracle.” She did a little wiggle in celebration before looking back at her phone. “What do you want to do today?” 

“I was gonna make today all about Dodge before his surgery tomorrow. We spent the morning playing around the yard and now he’s passed out in the living room with Ken. I wanted to make you some breakfast before I laid around with him all day.” 

Nicole reached out and gently grabbed his forearm, “He’s going to be okay, Chris.”

“I know, I know. I’m just nervous, I can’t help it. I’m also mad that it has to happen regardless.” 

“I know…But all we can do is focus on making his life better from this point on.” 

The duo normally wouldn’t wake up before eight but Dodger had to be at the vet by seven. Chris petted Dodger a couple times before grabbing his leash, “Cmon buddy, let’s go. Atta boy.” 

Nicole opened the door for the two of them and after they walked through she followed quickly behind resting a hand on his back. 

Chris cleared his throat, “Uhm, he hasn’t eaten since six last night. He’s had some water, not a lot. I also took him for a walk so he got his bathroom needs out of the way. He’s all good to go for ya.” 

The tech smiled at him, “Sounds great, We will take good care of him.” 

“I know ya will, thank you guys so much for doing this.” 

As he handed her the leash she handed him a clipboard, “Of course, we love Dodger. Just make sure all your contact information is updated so we can call you when he’s ready to be picked up.” He nodded before starting to look over the form of information.

“Bye dodge, we’ll see you later buddy!” 

Chris sniffled as soon as they got outside and she looked up at him to see the tears running down his face. 

“Baby.” She said with a little pout before stopping to hug him. He wrapped his arms around her tightly before hiding his face in her hair letting himself fully breakdown. “I’m sorry, I don’t  mean to cry.” He choked out as she rubbed his back.

“I know, baby. Surgery is always scary, but he’s going to be okay.” 

“I know he is, I know he is.” He nodded a few times before fully burying his face in her neck. 

The two stood in the parking lot in front of his audi for a few minutes until he could fully collect himself. As he stood up straight pulling away from him, Nicole grabbed onto his arms, “Do you want me to drive?”

“No, I got it. You ready to go home and have some breakfast?”

Nicole nodded quickly, “Oh we definitely are.”

Chris smiled before leaning down to kiss her forehead, “Then let’s go home.” 

He smiled at her, “you’re my entire world, you know that?”

“Our world is about to get bigger.”

“I know… I know that. I just want to take care of you the best I can these next few months. You and Dodge and Ken… I just… I’m so exhausted.”

“I know, baby, I know. 

The next two weeks we’re a bundle of nerves for Chris. Between Dodger recovering from surgery and the launch of his political project it was a stressful month for him. He had spent most of his waking hours working on things for ASP but occasionally he would retreat to the bedroom to see Nicole in there either napping or watching TV. Today, he assumed she was napping but she must’ve just laid down because Nicole couldn’t help but giggle as Chris shifted her legs around him again. “I’m so sorry baby.” 

He let out with a sigh as she opened her eyes into his, “It’s okay, what’s wrong?” 

“I’m nervous about ASP.” 

“It’s a great idea, baby, and the people are going to love it.” 

Chris nodded, “I’ll be okay, I’ll get some rest. How are you feeling?” 

“I’m feeling better than I did last week.” 

“So, still not good?” 

Nicole gave him a small smile, “I don’t want to ruin your breakfast routine.” 

“I can take a little gross bodily function.” 

“No, baby, it’s the pesto eggs. The smell of it sets me off for the rest of the day.” 

“Oh, I’m so sorry baby. I didn’t know. How long have you known that it was that?” 

“A few days. I couldn’t figure out what it specifically was. I didn’t know if it was the eggs or the dogs coming in from the rain or the stupid expo marker I was using. The plot twist was all of it but, the nauseousness is supposed to fade out soon, that's why I can deal with it.”

“Nope, I get it. That is good to know. We need coats for the dogs and just normal eggs until the morning sickness passes, we got this!”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously helpful!” He said with a smile causing her to laugh. 

It was the second day of ASP being active and accessible to the public and Chris was hunkered down in his office. This was to be expected but with Scott over at Carly’s house having a sleepover with the kiddos, Nicole was a little bored. After eating two big bowls of cereal she decided to lay down and scroll through tik tok until the work day was over and he was ready for dinner. A few hours later, he walked softly through the bedroom door with a light yawn. 

“Move, Ken.” Chris patted her dogs back lightly and Kennedy moved to the top of the bed letting him through. Nicole shifted her gaze to the man crawling up the bed to her. Chris lifted her right leg up slightly before laying down on the bed and resting his head lightly on her stomach. “How’s the ASP stuff going?” 

“It’s going good, really busy. Lots of phone calls but you know that I’m so sorry. Just launch week stuff, the rush will be over soon.”

“Do you feel better now that you know it’s not a failure?”

“Well, it could still turn out to be a failure. I’m just stressed.”

Nicole’s face fell into a pout, “I’m sorry, is there anything I can do?”

Chris lifted up the shirt she was wearing and kissed her stomach, “Just wanna be with my girls.”

“Oh, you think bubba is a girl?” He nodded against her skin with a smile, “I think so yeah… she’ll be so cute with your curls and sass and big tutus.” “Well, I think he will be cute with my curls and your eyes and smile.” Chris looked up at her with a big smile causing her to smile down at him, “There it is. There’s that smile that I love so much.” “I love you.” “I love you too.” “You really aren’t upset with me?” “Why would I be upset?” “Because I came into your life twice your age and within the first year I proposed and got you pregnant.” “Well, jokes on you because I have been waiting for a handsome, mature man to come into my life and ask me to marry him to start a life together.” “Yeah?” “Yeah, I mean you’re no Jon Hamm but the money helps too.” He laughed before moving his head back down and running his hand lightly up and down her stomach and side.” “Are you busy tomorrow?” “Zoom call in the morning other than that I’m all yours for the weekend. What’s going on?” “I just wanna go swimming, have a relaxing day in the pool with the love of my life. Maybe watch him grill up some burgers and hot dogs for lunch like the suburban dad he’s about to be.” She felt him smile against her skin, “Chris finally gets to be a daddy.” Her face fell into a sad smile as she felt the tears hit her skin as he started to cry. “Thank you.” “Don’t thank me… Well, maybe thank me after I push it out because that’s going to be the part when I hate you.” He laughed and hugged her a little tighter, “You can break all my fingers if you need to get through it.” “Oh I certainly will remember that…” Biting her lip she ran her fingers through his hair before taking a deep breath, “Thank you for loving me.” 

He lifted his head up to meet her gaze, “Wait, what?” “Thank you for choosing to love me and committing to me and-“ “You don’t ever have to thank me for that.” 

“Well,” Nicole let out a sad laugh, “From the words of others I never thought I would get here.” Chris got up resting his hands on either side of her and climbing up to meet her eye level. “I am so sorry if anyone ever made you feel like you were hard to love because they were wrong.” Leaning down to kiss her, he could feel her smile against him as their lips met. He quickly pulled away with a smile and kissed her cheek, “Don’t even think for a second that me loving you is a chore. If you think that I haven’t fell head over heels in love with you because you’re you then I am doing something wrong.” She gasped slightly as his kisses went down her neck, “We cannot do this right now and you know that.” “Mm? Why not?” “It’s my night to make dinner.” “And?” “And this can wait until after dinner.” Nicole lifted his chin back up to look at her. “Cmon, I need my knife skills guy and you can have me for dessert.” 

After getting pregnant, their sex life calmed down a lot but when Chris opened up his fourth beer she knew she might get a little something extra from him and she was right. His tender touches were replaced with hair pulling and love bites on her neck. When they were finished, he gently laid her on the bed before resting behind her.

Chris kissed her shoulder before pulling her body back against him. “Mmm, I love you.”

“I love you too.” 

His palm was rubbing circles on her hip before she reached down and took his hand in hers.

Nicole squeezed his hand and took a deep breath, “You are the best.”

“Lover? Husband?”

She smiled at the tone of his voice. He was more than a little tired causing his accent to come through in a lazy drawl. Nicole kissed the back of his hand before speaking, “Yes. The best of everything.”

“I don’t think I’m the best, you’re the best.” Nicole grumbled and shook her head causing him to laugh. “Yes, I do. You are so caring and creative. You’re an amazing baker. You have such a big heart. You have the cutest little curls, especially the ones that frame your face that are extra springy. And I don’t mean to take this back into a dirty direction but you have an incredible body and are my favorite sexual partner.”

“Shut it.”

“I’m just speaking the truth…How are you feeling?” 

“Mmm, I’m good. I’m tired mostly, how are you?”

“Tired… Just worried more about you.”

“Why?”

“Our baby.”

Nicole groaned, “You aren’t going to make this weird, I'm poking the placenta with my dick thing, are you?”

He let out a loud laugh, “No! I just mean when I grab onto you tightly or flip you around. I just don’t want to hurt you guys or make you uncomfortable. Your body is doing something amazing and I don’t want to mess it up.”

“You won’t mess it up…Do you want me to have Cindy explain that to you tomorrow?”

“Oh, no. God, no. I just, for the next few months we’re just going to take things nice and slow and intimate.”

Nicole let out a huff as her face fell into a pout, “Lame.”

“I know, I know, I’m the worst.” He said with a smirk before pressing his lips to her shoulder, before continuing, “Just think about how fun trying for baby number two is going to be?” 

“Oh yes, the great sex I will have to wait two years for.” 

“You are so dramatic. I’ll make you waffles in the morning to make up for it.”

“You promise?”

“I swear.”

The next morning he woke her up with chocolate chip waffles and a lot of bacon which put her in a better mood. This appointment was the first one that Chris got to be a part of and see what was happening. He didn’t cry when the picture first came up on the screen but as she turned up the volume so they could hear the heartbeat he completely lost it. Chris was grateful for the fact they discussed the important stuff before doing Nicole’s check up because he couldn’t focus on anything else. 

“Cindy sent over the site to order the birthing tub from.” Nicole groaned, “This is getting real isn’t it.”

“I think it became real when you got your little bump babe.”

“I wouldn’t say that’s a bump yet. I have a lot of lower belly fat.”

“Nah, that’s our bubba. Do you want to order the tub Chris smiled at her while opening up his laptop, “You chickening out yet?”

 “No.” She pouted, “I just what if it hurts?” 

“You know that it’s gonna hurt.” Chris let out a chuckle. 

“What if something goes wrong?” 

“That’s what Cindy is for.” 

Nicole took a deep breath and squeezed his hand, “You gotta stay with me the entire time.” “That’s why we’re doing this now because I will be here.”

“I know…I just, ugh. Childbirth is scary.” 

Nicole rested her head on Chris' shoulder as he put his sandwich back down, “Hey wifey.” He said cheerfully with a mouthful before reaching up to pat the side of her head. 

“Taking a break?” Scott asked before taking a drink of water. 

“Something like that, Cindy just sent over the rest of the supplies list. She said that we should start buying whatever we can now because everything is on backorder because of COVID.” She cleared her throat before handing over the piece of paper. Chris’ eyes widened at the size of the list, “Wow, we’re going to have a small little hospital here.” 

“Yeah, I think that’s the plan baby.” Nicole laughed slightly and kissed his cheek, “I can find them and order them if you’d like.” 

“No baby, I can do it. I’ll just do it in between meetings.” 

“No, no, you have things set up. I can do my research stuff at any time.” Nicole took the paper out of his hand, “I will take your credit card though.” With a small laugh she ruffled his hair as he fished his wallet out of his pocket. 

It was a little after six when he came into the bedroom to see her on her laptop and the dogs resting on his side of the bed. “How’s it going in here?”

“Not bad, how was work?”

“Just as boring but somehow still stressful as it has been. Order anything yet?”

She nodded excitedly, “I got four sets of sheets, but I really don’t want to give birth in our bed so I’m hoping we can change one of these four rooms into a delivery room. Because we will have our room, the nursery, scott’s room, our office, and then the guest room where all the nurses and Cindy are staying. But I think we could move all my computer stuff into that closet that last month and use that room.” “That’s a great plan baby. Maybe we should get some plastic drawers or additional shelves to put all the things to make it easier.” 

She smiled at him, “Whatever you think is best. You are so much better at organizing and preparing than me.” 

Chris smiled and kissed her cheek, “I don’t think that’s true, but what else have you ordered?” 

“I got eight towels, twenty washcloths, and eight receiving blankets from Target. From amazon I ordered the cotton balls, rubbing alcohol in seventy, ninety-one, and ninety-nine,  thermometers, silver duct tape, two coolers, two flashlights and extra batteries, a cookie sheet set, a large mixing bowl set, bulk black trash bags, two rolls of plastic sheets, newborn diapers, overnight pads, and large brown paper bags to store them in until delivery. I placed an order for the paper towels and toilet paper but they’re on back order for a month. I’ll find the baby hats, clothes, and my clothes later. I have time for all that later, I’m sick of looking at screens today.” She said with a small yawn, “Ugh, I don't know why I’m so tired.”

“Maybe because you are growing a small human inside of you, just a thought.” 

He gave her a slight smirk causing her to roll her eyes, “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. What’s for dinner?” 

“Scott wants tacos.” 

“Thank god, but can we make chicken wings tomorrow?” 

“Baby wants chicken wings?” 

“I want a big ol thing of chicken wings and fries, oh my god fried chicken also exists. Fuck, I just love food. I love food too much. Is football happening soon? Can we just get a big buffet and pretend it’s for the game, please?”

“Maybe. We’ll see, that’s still a few weeks away. Let’s go get some dinner in ya’ right now though.”

Nicole looked over at him with a smile as he continued to read through another pregnancy help book. “What number is this?” Chris looked from the pages down to her smiling face as her head laid gently against the pillow, “This is the third book I bought.”

“Mmm, how many do you have left to read?” 

“Six.” He said before letting out a small sigh. “I wanted to get through one every month of your pregnancy so I’m catching up. I’m trying to stay at least a month ahead of what’s happening so I’m prepared. It’s also just nice to know the facts but also how I can help you best. Did you know bubba is the size of an apple now? And next week he will be the size of an avocado. Like how incredible is that?” 

“You’re so cute like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re a college kid cramming for his finals.” 

He let out a little laugh, “I guess that is kind of what I’m doing. Is it bothering you?”

“No, I think it’s amazing that you want to know so much. It means a lot that you want to be prepared and aren’t just going with the flow.”

“Always…Just one more chapter and I’ll turn my light off, okay?”

“It’s okay. Read as much as you want. I can sleep through pretty much anything.” She said with a sleepy smile. He looked down at her with a smile, “You’re so beautiful.”

“Oh shush.”

“I mean it.” He said with a quiet laugh reaching his left hand over to stroke her cheek, “Do you want to cuddle up to me so you can fall asleep? I know you sleep better when you’re being held.” 

Nicole shook her head, “No, I’m alright. I’m really tired today, honestly I might fall asleep any second.”

“Not before I tell you I love you.” 

She opened her eyes lazily with a smile to match, “I love you too.”

(Next Chapter)

#rewrite the stars

[crackonhq]

SMS ⏩ BASH: good morning! it’s time to head to casa amor. wake up some of your fellow islanders and head to the front entrance for a ride. maddox, josh, dylan, marcus, and frankie will be coming with you. #theultimatetest

SMS ⏩ RHYS: rise and shine! half of your fellow islanders have already left the villa for casa amor. soon, those of you remaining at the main villa will be joined by six new islanders – let the week begin. #stickorswitch

please refer to this post for a general description of casa amor and what is happening. here is a reminder of how it is sorted :

home villa

rhys

jenny

naomi

romi

seb

callie

dante

jude

stella

zeke

angel

charlene

casa amor villa

bash

josh

dylan

marcus

maddox

frankie

mali

layla

miles

phoebe

val

adela

how casa works

half of the islanders have been transported to another villa while others have stayed in the main one. these villas are not close enough to see or contact the other group, and there can be no communication between houses. 

there are separate casa amor discord channels you can use for any interactions within the casa villa, and you can also use the dash. 

there will be a couple special discord events to play casa amor games, later we will vote on when to schedule these events. there will be more than one – i understand not everyone can make it to everything. 

islanders do not know exactly how many days casa will last or what the consequences for their choices will be. producers will stress to them that it shouldn’t be about the consequences : it should be about whether you want to stay with the person you’re with or not. 

beds: you can use the #beds channel on discord under the ‘ic info’ tab to inform where your muses will sleep every night, i’ll probably prompt the question as days start to end.

all bombshells are guaranteed a bed inside to sleep, ie, an og cannot kick a bombshell out of the bedroom. otherwise, people can pair up in the beds how they want or sleep outside or on the couch. bombshells have got to sleep in the bedrooms though.

DO NOT OUTRIGHT STATE YOUR MUSE’S CHOICE. let’s have a bit of mystery. so, muses cannot outright state who they are going to pick. it can be implied, it can be suggested, it can be deliberated over, but try to avoid them saying straight up what they will decide to do until you’re filling out the form. normally those watching the show would have it edited so they wouldn’t know for sure until the recoupling, so for our own fun, let’s do the same. obviously some things will be more obvious than others (like if muse a spends the whole time moping and being loyal to muse b) but i figured this would be a fun way to get some surprises. 

what it’s like to be a casa bombshell: 

each set of bombshells is driven to their villa that morning. they’ll do an interview with producers and then they’ll get to introduce themselves to the islanders, mingle, get to know them. day 28 is really all about ‘getting to know you.’ 

all casa bombshells have seen FOUR WEEKS of the show, up to the end of day 26. they have not seen day 27, but producers have briefed them on some key points, so going in they know max and dejan were sent home & that josh and dejan got in a fight on dejan’s way out, but that’s it. view a recap of the timeline here.

casa bombshells do not know long they have either, and they will likely have no decision to make. in the case that two og islanders want to recouple with them, they will be allowed to make the choice between them, but other than that, they will have no recoupling form to fill out or options. they will just have to see what happens !

YOU CAN NOW POST DAY 28 THREADS.

in both villas, the #firepit channel should be used for GROUP THREADS/GROUP INTERACTIONS ONLY during this time. please don’t post one-on-one interactions in this channel and use them to interact as a squad. 

#crackon:casa #week 5

[animalsmealbuzz]