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heavyhitterheaux · 1 year

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Not So Happy Birthday

AN: He should have known better

Synopsis: You have been spending a lot of time with Ace planning something for Jack and you wanted to get everything just right. Too bad everything blows up in your face.

Pairing: Jack Harlow x Reader

Requested by: a beautiful anon 💖

Appearances by: @nattinatalia and @hoodharlow 😘😘

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

It was 2 am and Jack was sleeping peacefully next to you. When you had heard his light snores, you took advantage of that and were texting Ace to help you plan a surprise birthday party for your boyfriend of three months.

Jack had asked you to visit him on tour and you quickly agreed. You had that advantage seeing that you worked at your parent's company and could come and go as you pleased.

You were what people called a trust fund baby. You didn’t have to work, but you chose to, wanting to say that you earned something for yourself.

You were introduced to Jack by Ace after the two of you had met and hooked up, but it didn't go anywhere. The two of you remained close and became really good friends and he got the bright idea of introducing you to Jack. When that happened, you could have sworn that your heart stopped when you saw these blue eyes.

Even though the relationship was still fairly new, you found yourself wanting to spend all your free time with him if both of your schedules allowed it.

Your best friend Blanca was excited for you since she couldn't remember the last time she saw you so happy, but she also happened to have no problem threatening Jack and told him that if he hurt you to count his days.

While your other best friend Jessica was just happy that you found something else to occupy your time with instead of just work.

The idea that you came up with for the party is that it would be Louisville themed so Jack could have a little taste of home while being on tour. You knew it did get hard sometimes, so you decided that you would do what you could in order for him to fill the void without actually being home. You had also planned to fly out his parents, grandparents, as well as Clay on your family’s private jet and everything would take place in one of the vacation houses that your parents owned.

The current conversation with Ace centered around what type of cake you thought he would want and the different foods to have. Urban, Quiiso, 2fo and Shloob were going to help you go and pick out a gift for him tomorrow. They were all in on the plan and the only other person you wanted to tell was Druski. Jack told you that he would be coming later in the week and you will fill him in on the details then.

Ace- OPEN BAR!

You- Ace! My baby doesn’t drink! We all know this!

Ace- Okay, but I do! And I’m helping you plan this soooo once again, OPEN BAR!

You- Okay, okay! I’ll have the open bar, and I can ask our private chef if he can do the food, or should we get it catered from somewhere? Like this is more so an intimate setting with all of his closest family and friends

Ace- Get Morris Deli sandwiches

You- Ace, imma smack you. NO.

Ace- What in the world is your private chef going to cook? Spoiled ass smh

You- Hmm, I’m thinking of multiple options. Chicken, fish, beef, and then we have our vegetarian options so that everyone can have something to choose from that they like. And of course all of Jack’s favorites

Ace- His favorite is you

You- But I cannot be spread eagle on the dinner table

Ace- Says who?!? Jack will only want to be around you anyway, ever since he laid his eyes on you it’s like we don’t exist

You- Stop being dramatic

Just then you felt Jack move closer to you and wrap his arms tighter around you and whisper in your ear.

“Mamas, why are you still up? You complained about wanting to go to sleep and you're steadily typing away on your phone. Put it down and go to sleep.”

“Okay, just one more thing that I have to do and then I will, I promise.”

“Baby, you stay overworking yourself and I thought I told you about that.”

“But!”

“I get it, you’re a perfectionist and when you want things done a certain way you do them yourself, but you have all day to do that. Come and cuddle with me please.”

How could you say no to that?

You- He’s awake so we shall continue this conversation later

Ace- And snails better not be on the menu either with your bougie ass

You- Imma order them from room service to you in the next city we go to

Ace- 😐😐😐😐

You put your phone on the charger as Jack kissed your shoulder and you then fell into a peaceful slumber.

It was around 6 am when you had also dragged Ace to wake up and go to the gym downstairs in the hotel with you.

As much as he put up a fight, he finally agreed and you let Jack sleep in.

“We only slept for four hours! I’m tired!” Ace whined as you began to warm up on the treadmill.

“Stop being a big baby! I have to use all of my free time to plan this so that he doesn’t find out. I want this to be special for him. He’s worked so hard and definitely deserves this.”

“Are you at least buying me breakfast after this?”

“Did you not hear anything I just said?! All you’re focused on is eating and going back to sleep.”

“Do you blame me?! Since no, you and your family are the types to wake up on Thanksgiving ad run a fucking 5K. Jack has no idea what he has gotten himself into. And quite frankly I don’t know either, but I WANT OUT!”

“Did I ever mention how dramatic you were? Now I have to go finalize the details for his cake and pick up one of the gifts that I got him today and Neelam knows the deal. Keep him distracted so that he doesn't suspect anything. If worse comes to worse, I went shopping and that really isn’t a lie… and… Ace you can lift heavier than that. That’s only five pounds.”

“I’m a beginner, do not shame me.”

“This isn’t Planet Fitness and you are not a beginner so I am shaming you. Get those 40s and stop playing around. The sooner we get done, the better.”

“Are you this hard on Jack when he works out with you?”

“The only working out with him that I’ve ever done is sex so no.”

“And I did not need to know that.”

“Well you asked.” You answered Ace while shrugging and going over to the bar to do squats.

When you and Ace had finished, the two of you went back upstairs to your rooms to get ready for the day and you walked in to see Jack looking like he just woke up and was rubbing his eyes.

“Baby, where’d you go?”

“Downstairs to the gym, I dragged Ace with me and now I’m going to shower and I promised him that I would buy him breakfast for waking him up so early. Just didn’t say when he was going to get the breakfast. Maybe he’ll get it next week from me.”

“Not you making the man work out and not feeding him. Your workouts be hard as hell and that’s the least you can do. I am never working out with you. The most work out you’ll get out of me is giving you this dick and that’s it.”

“You two are definitely friends because he complained the entire time too. My workouts are not that bad.”

“Baby, 2fo couldn’t walk for three days after he went to the gym with you, I’ll pass. But, you know we could always save water since I have to get ready too.” Jack answered you while wiggling his eyebrows.

All you did in response was peel off your workout bra and let it land on the floor and Jack’s eyes went wide quickly following you into the bathroom.

Druski came a few days earlier than expected, and you hadn’t been able to get a chance to talk to him because he always happened to be around Jack.

You would try to pull him to the side tonight while Jack was performing to tell him the plan and explain what was happening, but it seemed as if he had been a little standoffish towards you since the other day. He saw you along with Ace having lunch in the city and kind of stood a little to the side so that the two of you wouldn’t notice him. The two of you had gotten hungry on your excursion of trying to find yet another gift for Jack so the two of you stopped to get food. Little did you know Druski had taken pictures and sent them to Jack. But that wasn’t all, this had happened every day since he had been there and noticed how if he saw Ace, that you weren’t far behind and the last thing he wanted was for one of his good friends to get hurt.

Jack didn’t quite know how to feel when Druski told him and sent him the pictures.

He had told you about his trust issues and that his last relationship ended because he ended up getting cheated on.

But that wasn’t it.

He got cheated on and she got pregnant by the person that she cheated on him with.

So when Ace came to him and told him about you, he had his hesitations, but Ace insisted that Jack give you a chance and he finally agreed.

He knew that the two of you had hooked up in the past, but Ace assured him that he had no feelings for you whatsoever and that the two of you were just friends.

Now if that were true, why were you all over the city with Ace and it was just the two of you? And every day?

When he sat down and thought about it, you had been blowing him off to spend time with Ace and now he knew what he had to do.

He wasn’t about to get hurt again, so he needed to end it before it got to that point.

You had gotten Jack a specialized necklace that had ‘KY’ on it and was making your way back to the hotel to put it away before tonight’s show. It came in handy to know multiple jewelers in different states as well as different countries.

There were still about two weeks to go until the actual party, but everything was just about ready and set into place.

You were excited to be able to do this for your boyfriend and couldn’t wait to see the look on his face.

He had spoiled you early on in your relationship and you wanted to be able to return the favor.

Once you reached your shared hotel room with Jack, you walked in to see your suitcases by the door and Jack sitting on the bed with a defeated look on his face.

“Umm, did I miss something? Is everything okay?” You asked while trying to come closer to Jack, but he immediately got up and moved away from you.

“Baby, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” You asked while setting the bag down that contained his necklace on the nightstand.

“I should have known it was too good to be true, so you can take your shit and this plane ticket and go the fuck home. I don’t need to be cheated on again. And the fact that you did this knowing my trust issues? You got some fucking nerve.”

“First of all, what? And second of all, I would NEVER cheat on you.”

“Well that’s the same thing she said and she did and ended up getting pregnant in the process.”

“Jack, where is this coming from?!”

“It doesn’t matter, you got caught.”

“I didn’t get caught because I didn’t even do anything. You know how much I care about you!”

“Do I?” Jack asked and your breath hitched in your throat.

“I would never. I know how it feels too so why in the world would I do that to you?! You won't even tell me who I apparently cheated on you with!”

“It doesn’t even matter anymore. Here’s your ticket and I want you gone by the time I get back from my show.” Jack said while leaving it on the bed and slamming the door behind him.

You were at a loss for words and immediately started to cry.

Confused, hurt were just a few things that you were feeling and you just didn’t understand how the two of you had gotten to this point.

You looked down at the ticket to see that the flight was for 7 PM which was two hours from now and decided to catch an uber to the airport.

If he wanted you gone, he was going to get his wish.

And he better not come crawling back to you either once he realized what he did.

Jack’s show was about to start and Ace was looking all over for you since he had a suggestion about the party and wanted to run it by you. He went to go ask Jack and when he went into his dressing room, he saw him with a pissed off look on his face and Druski not even acknowledging his presence.

“Where’s Y/N? Has anyone seen her?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Druski said and Ace looked at him confused.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Jack, where is your girlfriend?”

“Ex-girlfriend and she should be on a plane going home by now 30,000 feet in the air.”

Ace was immediately confused.

“What? Why? What happened?”

“You two happened, that’s what. I should have known that it was too good to be true talking about we only hooked up once, but we’re still friends and don’t have feelings for each other.”

“Because we fucking don’t! I’ve been trying to get at one of her best friends, Blanca! So where the fuck is this coming from? As much as she talks about you and how highly she talks about you, ain’t no way in hell she would cheat, especially with me!”

“Then what the fuck were yall doing all cozy and shit this entire week?” Druski asked and Ace immediately got quiet.

“Don’t get quiet now. I have the pictures to prove it.” Druski added while Jack was simply scrolling through his phone trying to not think about his girlfriend cheating on him with one of his best friends.

“Pictures to prove what exactly? Her planning a surprise party for him for his birthday in two weeks? Is that it? Because that’s what we’ve been doing and she’s actually been doing this for an entire fucking month.”

“Wait, what?” Jack asked while putting his phone down and looking at Ace.

“Now you really thought I would hurt you like that and sleep with your girlfriend when all she asked for was my help because she wanted to do something special for you? All she does is talk about you.”

“Oh shit.” Druski muttered while looking back and forth between the two of them.

“Here, you can check my text messages to her to prove it.” Ace said while handing Jack his phone and he began scrolling to see that he was in fact telling the truth.

“You’re more of a dumbass than I thought and now you’ve probably lost her for good. She deserved better than you kicking her off tour and sending her home all because of a miscommunication and you probably didn’t even give her a chance to explain. And knowing Blanca, she is not going to let you anywhere near her because I know she’s going to tell her what you did. So congratulations, you just fucked up your relationship with a girl who would do absolutely anything for you. Oh, should I mention that the party was going to take place at one of her family’s vacation houses, with a private chef and she was flying in your parents, grandparents as well as Clay? You don’t deserve any of it for how you treated her.”

All Jack could do was sit there in utter disbelief.

“And Druski, the next time, I mean if there is one since you know Y/N is probably done with his ass and might be done with me too since I introduced them to each other, just fucking ask me.” Ace said before slamming Jack’s dressing room door behind him.

“I..” Druski started to say, but Jack immediately held up his hand to cut him off.

“You better come up with a good fucking plan in order for me to get my girlfriend back since all of this is your damn fault.”

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#jack harlow #jack harlow fic #jack harlow fanfic #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x black reader #jack harlow angst #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow x you #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow fanfiction

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puppetwoman17 · 2 months

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Ladies and gents, my first Billy Batson-centric fic! It’s called: The Batson Family Soap Opera: Ft. The Justice League

Here’s a snippet of the first chapter, already released on AO3 under the name SunShade878

In Study Room #1, Billy propped himself up on a chair and opened his laptop. The screen lit up the room, showing a half-finished Whiz Radio broadcast script. On another tab, Billy pulled up a bullet point list of topics to cover, and got to work.

He took bites out of the sandwich he got from the cafeteria as he worked. Looking from tab to tab, Billy paraphrased some of his talking points and left slots open throughout the script for a few brief questions.

He tapped a nail against the table when he paused after a commercial break slot and glanced at the time.

“Five minutes ‘til monitor duty,” he muttered. “Better close off for now.”

Not to say Billy was satisfied with his work, but he was proud of his clean punctuality record from his time with the League. It also translated to his reporter work, so that was a nice bonus. Now that he thought about it, Morris told him he could give Billy a small bonus if he turned everything in today…

Nope! He shook his head. Monitor duty now, Whiz work later.

Billy quickly packed his things and slotted his laptop in a cubby before making his way toward the monitor station. He checked the time on his watch, sighing in relief when he saw he was two minutes from the beginning of his two hour shift.

Okay, good.

He quickened his pace toward the familiar room, dutifully ignoring the concerned and curious looks on several familiar faces.

I swear, you’d think I was catatonic with the way these people look at me.

The monitor room had a large, imposing window that showed the expanse of space. It was something Billy could never get over, no matter how long he stared at it. Multiple screens were lit, showing various cities with superheroes of their own, helping children out of burning buildings and stopping robberies in progress.

A transparent hologram of Earth spun around slowly in the middle of the room. Graph lines went over and across each section of land and sea. Several small, red dots blinked green, and Billy smiled in satisfaction that they were doing good. He was doing good.

“Hey, Little B!”

Billy rolled his eyes. “Hey, Hal.”

Billy doesn’t have to turn around to see the Green Lantern’s cheeky grin as he sauntered into the room, power ring glowing emerald. “Ya seem tense, little man.” The grin faltered, revealing what Billy knew to be truer than the smile. “You okay?”

Now, you remember what Billy said about loving how protective the League was, right? And the thing is, he didn’t lie. He didn’t blame them for it, and he understood the need to protect people younger than you. Hell, he was well known enough in Fawcett for the younger street kids to know him by name. For them to know he knew all the best hiding spots and hoarding spots around the Cobbler District.

But sometimes it could just be so. Damn. Annoying.

“Oh, it’s just some last minute revisions for my broadcast tomorrow. Nothing major.”

“You remembered to eat, yeah?

Don’t roll your eyes, he’s not being condescending. “Took a sandwich from the canteen.”

“Cool, cool.”

Yeah, this was definitely one of those times where he felt coddled instead of protected. Now, maybe seven year old Billy, who’d just learned that he was now responsible for the wellbeing of an entire community and subcommunities of ethereal-infused life, would’ve loved the worry on Hal’s face.

Fourteen year old Billy, on the other hand, couldn’t help the queasy feeling in his stomach.

“Anyway, we should get started, huh?”

The whites of Hal’s domino mask widened. “Uh, yeah. Let’s.”

Billy mustered a small smile as he propped himself on one of the two chairs facing the screens. Hal flopped unceremoniously onto the other one, the smile on his face more prominent. Weird. Before, the smile seemed…dim, somehow.

Now, though, with the two of them looking through screens and chatting quietly as the hours ticked by, Hal’s nervousness and tenseness was chipped away, revealing the bumbling idiot Billy knew and cared for. The easy way with which they communicated was something Billy was thankful for. If anything, his identity reveal only strengthened their relationship.

It sort of felt like he was the reason for Hal’s better mood. But that was silly.

Right?

Tell me what you think on AO3!

#billy batson #captain marvel #justice league #shazam #dc universe #fanfiction #magic users #Ebenezer #Sinclair #mary batson

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unicyclehippo · 6 months

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release (cr3) for the one word prompt

‘okay. alright,’ imogen says when nana morri gestures for them to go, that all is prepared. no one has stepped into the muck yet. ‘this might be a dumbass idea—‘

‘say it,’ chet encourages, immediately. ‘that’s pretty much the main thing we’ve learned today, right? no bad ideas when they’re just ideas.’

imogen nods, once and then more quickly. ‘right. okay. well, okay. okay. y’all might’ve noticed i took off the circlet—‘ orym nods. so does laudna. the others glance up to where it’s been sitting, which makes sense, being too occupied with their own things to see the tiny change. ‘so. i can look into your minds and then we’ll know who is the doppelgänger.’

silence.

then,

‘it sort of defeats the purpose of the challenge, doesn’t it?’ laudna inquires. ‘you know you’re welcome in my mind any time you wish, darling, but…this is supposed to be about trust, is it not?’

‘i dunno. i’m with mogen. trust is fine when you’re with your pals but if there’s two fuckos in the mix?’ chetney narrows his eyes. ‘bet i could sniff ‘em out. wonder how that works, changing into us. reckon they smell like us? walk like us?’

‘doppelgängers are fucking excellent at what they do. real hard to find.’ ashton scowls at the sidelong looks that earns them. ‘what? i fought one before.’

‘what do they look like cracked open?’ chetney cups a hand around his ear when ashton mumbles something. ‘what was that?’

‘i didn’t get it, okay?’ ashton snaps. ‘it got away. it can look like anyone, of course it fucking got away.’

‘hm. excellent at what they do. got away from you and your hammer… maybe. or maybe you are a doppel and you’re big talking your friends!’ chetney accuses, whipping out a chisel.

‘whoa!’ orym stepped between them, hands outstretched. ‘hold on.’

‘oh, so accusations are a good move but readin’ minds isn’t. got it.’

‘not helping, imogen.’

she lifts her hands in surrender. turns a worried look toward the muck and the altars. they’re wasting time with this. it’d be so easy—read for unfamiliar fey minds, kick out the doubles, grab the sticks.

‘it’s about trust,’ laudna whispers in her ear. she touches a finger to imogen’s wrist as if she doesn’t know - isn’t sure if it’s okay - and some of that is ambient thoughts, imogen thinks, which means it’s gotta be laudna. right? how far did the doubles magic extend? had laudna been thinking about that through both their tests, if it would be wrong to touch her? she grabs laudna’s hand tight. laudna sighs, relieved. ‘it’s about trust,’ she says again. orym nods. ‘what if… we must trust ourselves. our judgement, our instincts. do you remember what it was like to be a group at the start? we didn’t know one another but we had a mutual goal. we trusted one another just enough.’

‘enough to think you guys wouldn’t fuck us over,’ ashton muttered.

‘or you us,’ orym pointed out.

‘point.’

‘so…’ imogen picks up where laudna had left off, giving her hand a squeeze. laudna wraps her other hand tight around her wrist and leans in close, close enough for the floral-rot of her smell to overtake imogen’s senses, lighting her world up pink and bright. ‘uh. we - we can pretend we’re brand new. we need these branches.’

‘i think we can all agree imogen’s herself,’ FCG begins.

‘what! i mean, i am, but -‘

chetney hoots a laugh. ‘you’re blushing over laudna like you’ve never kissed a girl. you have kissed her, right?’

‘yes!’

‘multiple times!’ laudna insists.

‘ooh, multiple,’ chetney teases. ‘sounds sexy.’

sounds like it’s none of your business, imogen says harshly direct into chetney’s mind.

he winces, hand going to his temple. ‘yeah, that’s our imogen. damn! can you chill out? you gotta scream it?’

she narrows her eyes. he flinches, exaggerated, but there’s a smug grin curling his lips up on one side. it feels good to tease and be teased like this. imogen releases a breath she’s been holding onto way too long. rubs her temple.

‘so i’m normal. chet’s normal.’

‘fearne’s been quiet,’ laudna husks in her ear.

fearne’s ears prick up. ‘whoa! ‘scuse you!’

‘well it’s true!’ laudna hunches into herself, uses her grip on imogen’s hand as an anchor, ‘Its true, it is, its true, and none of us would suspect you, she’s your nana, it could be you—’

‘laud.’

‘it could be true,’ laudna says, lip jutting forward.

imogen kisses her. ‘it could be,’ she agrees, voice gentle. ‘but you’re the one who just told us we need to trust.’ she watches laudna blink, then blink again.

‘i did. i- i’m sorry, fearne.’

the faun feigns insult for a moment before she smiles cheekily. ‘that’s alright. i wasn’t listening anyway. i was thinking about trust.’ she eyes each of them, then her nana, and with a very casual sigh and a shrug, steps into the muck.

‘fearne!’

‘we’re not getting anything done hanging out there. orym? wanna get on my back? the mud looks pretty deep.’

orym scrambles up to her shoulders, leaning over her head to peer across the muck. ‘i think i see a path to the first altar. see?’ he points.

fearne hums. ‘i could drown you in the mud pretty easy.’

orym blooms a flower in his hand, tucks it into her hair. ‘please don’t.’

she laughs and walks deeper into the mud, into the test. the mud parts behind her, vague currents pulling through the sludge. it makes sense. there’s such a gravity to fearne. such a pull. did it feel any different? was this still fearne?

trust.

chetney uses ashton’s arm to climb him, keep him lifted out of the mud. he perches on the shoulder of the new arm. laudna eyes the mud warily. it sucks around imogen’s ankles and she knows immediately that FCG and laudna are going to have trouble.

‘ash, wait.’ he flinches when they talk to him now. his mind—she’s not looking but she can’t help but hear—his mind flinches too, scatters like the thunder wasps. flighty, storm front. then reordering to attack. was he afraid her next words would be, stay here? we can’t trust you? kill yourself? ‘can you carry FCG?’

ashton limps to FCG. ‘okay?’

‘sure!’

‘i’ll put you down when you want. you just gotta say.’

‘i know,’ FCG says. ‘i trust you!’

ashton ducks their head. they lift up FCG with a grunt and march into the mud behind fearne, wordlessly following where she leads.

imogen turns. ‘i can make us fly. keep your pretty new dress outta the mud.’ laudna flushes a mottled sort of pink-purple. she nods. her thoughts are syrup sticky-sweet as she meets Imogen’s eyes. ‘i love you.’

laudna smiles. ‘but do you trust me?’ when imogen hesitates, laudna brushes a crooked finger over imogen’s cheek. ‘i don’t think you have since i broke your rock.’

‘i forgave you for that months ago, laud,’

‘yes i know. i know. but there’s a part of you that knows i’m—i’m not me. i’m her.’

‘no—‘

‘yes. and you don’t trust her. you hate her. she disgusts you.’

‘laudna.’

‘it’s fine,’ laudna tells her, so quietly, so sweetly, so sadly. ‘i know. i understand. i feel it myself. but for right now, my love, do you trust that i am myself?’

imogen nods. how can she not? it’s laudna, standing right in front of her. she lets her magic fill her, rise into her skin and out, crackling into her air surrounding her, surrounding them. hooking an arm around laudna’s waist, she lifts them both into the air.

the first and second branches are easy. they’re guarded by traps and quick, muddy creatures they repel and run from, not wanting to harm anything in nana’s realm that can’t be healed.

they’re approaching the third branch when fearne says,

‘i don’t think any of us are doubles.’

ashton pauses. ‘wait. what?’

‘i don’t think any of us—‘

‘we heard you, fearnie,’ imogen says through gritted teeth. she’s trying to run the maths. two doubles. laudna and chet are definitely who they say they are, so is she. so it’s orym and fearne, most likely. right? ‘why do you think that?’

‘it doesn’t make sense! this is supposed to be trust building for all of us. why would any of us sit out?’

‘it’s a trick,’ laudna breathes. ‘a conniving trick. if we are all ourselves—‘

‘but we think two of us aren’t ourselves,’ oryn takes up the train of thought,

‘then we waste time being suspicious of each other instead of just doing what we’re supposed to do.’

‘seems like an apt tie-in to what we hope to do on the moon,’ FCG says, cradled in ashton’s arms. ‘less likely to succeed in our mission if we’re too busy double-checking what everyone else is up to.’

‘fearne,’ imogen breathes. ‘that’s brilliant.’

fearne flips her hair, demurs with a coy smile. ‘of course.’

‘plus, wouldn’t it make us trust each other less if we couldn’t figure it out now and forever more sort of weren’t sure if any of our friends had been replaced?’

‘true, but when you put it that way, that does kinda sound like something nana would do,’ fearne laughs. ‘look out, trap in the mud here.’ orym leans over and drops a white snapdragon blossom where fearne points. ‘okay, third stick, here we go!’

#tagging my stories #prompt fill #cr fic #imodna my beloveds #just random musings after the show #cr spoilers

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towards-toramunda · 6 months

Text

Back on my BUT WHAT IF PREDATHOS IS A GOOD OR NEUTRAL ENTITY HUH????

WHAT THEN???????????

WHAT IF LUDINUS IS ONLY TRYING TO RELEASE PREDATHOS SO HE CAN USE HIS MORE ADVANCED HARNESS THAT HES HAD HUNDREDS OF YEARS TO DEVELOP TO EAT THE GOD EATER AND THEN HE’LL BE ABLE TO EAT THE GODS????????????????????????

WHAT IF THE BELL’S HELLS DISCOVER THAT PREDATHOS EATS GODS “NOT BECAUSE OF MALICE, NOT BECAUSE OF MURDEROUS INTENT, BUT BECAUSE SOME THINGS HAVE TO EAT AND SOME THINGS HAVE TO BE EATEN” (QUOTE FROM MATT MERCER IN EPISODE 71 WHEN THEY WERE IN THE SHATTERED TEETH THAT I HAVE NOT BEEN ABLE TO STOP THINKING ABOUT)??????????????????????

ALL CAMPAIGN WE’VE SEEN THE GOOD SIDE OF “BAD GUYS” LIKE WITH NANA MORRI OR THE NIGHTMARE KING OR BOR’DOR OR EVEN THE PCS THEMSELVES LIKE THEY’RE ALL TEXTBOOK VILLAIN NPCS (except orym thats my father right there)

WHAT IF THAT WAS ALL TO LEAD US TO PREDATHOS ACTUALLY BEING A FINE DUDE??????

Okay but all caps is hurting my eyes so lets discuss:

- we haven’t seen predathos and presumably they’re either asleep or in some sort of dormant state and have been since nearly the beginning of recorded history so there is no record of their form, true power, personality, etc. all we know is they (presumably, but lets be real yes they did) ate two gods

- Predathos was said to create “twisted life” but so far what we’ve seen from the life on Ruidius is just… *different* life. Red and spindly and alien, but not necessarily bad. Yes we’ve seen some reilorans siding with ludinus in the fight near the lava a few episodes back, but we also know that reliorans called by imogen have to do what she says so how do we actually know these ones were working on their own volition/weren’t misguided like bor’dor was?

- Quite a few times in this campaign we’ve been shown the theme that bad things are often not evil or malicious, (and evil things can be useful shoutout to Teven Klask). As mentioned earlier and by many people throughout this campaign: these PCs are easily the villain NPCs in any other dnd campaign

- When they went to the shattered teeth Matt said “You are uncertain who is who, but you get the sense that many innocent creatures have met their end in this land violently, not because of malice, not because of murderous intent, but because some things have to eat and some things have to be eaten.” And ever since I heard him say that I keep wondering if THAT is gonna be who predathos is! Because gods may meet their end to predathos violently, not because of malice, but because *some things have to eat and some things need to be eaten*

- And NOW with the introduction of ludi’s old harness and seeing just how powerful and dangerous it is I absolutely think that Ludinus has been working on a new one since he left molaesmyr and my *theory* is that he’s only trying to release predathos so he can suck in his power (maybe he’ll be the one controlling imogen’s powers then and YIKE) and have the ability to devour the gods/become one himself.

- Imagine how JUICY and INTERESTING it’d be if the hell’s realize that predathos is actually not a bad being, but a being who has been treated badly and then BAMB LUDINUS COMES IN WITH AN UPDATED HARNESS AND SUCKS HIS POWERS INTO HIMSELF?? HOW BATSHIT WOULD THAT BE?????? LIKE??????? COME ON

(This is all speculation I hate when I speculate on this hellsite and someone claims I’m trying to pretend I have a crystal ball that can see into the future with 100% certainty: I’m trying to have fun calm down)

#critical role #cr3 #bells hells #bell’s hells #critical role meta #cr meta #predathos #back on my what if predathos is good actually bull shit #I think predathos being good or neutral or apathetic is the most interesting *for me personally*

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youcouldmakealife · 7 months

Text

LBTE: Jared (111-114)

New arc, and things get serious quick

If you want to read along, the series page is here. All previous parts under the 'liveblogging the end' tag.

111 - Change of Scenery

A new arc! One I believe I thought was the last. Spoiler alert: it was not.

And he knows that’s probably the most ungrateful attitude in the world, that every single hockey prospect in the entire province probably just felt a chill down their spine and went ‘someone isn’t appreciating the fact he’s in the fucking NHL’.

AND he’s defiled The Battle of Alberta.

“If you’re trying to make it harder to leave, it’s working,” Jared tells Bryce. Honesty is very important in a marriage.

“I don’t even want you to stay,” Bryce says, in possibly the worst acting job ever. The fact his arms tighten around Jared doesn’t help.

These two.

“Yeah,” Jared says, blows out a breath, gets one last kiss that doesn’t last long enough, then grabs his bags, Bryce hovering in the doorway when he walks down the hall like Jared’s going to trip and die on the way to the elevator, or maybe like —

“Quit looking at my ass,” Jared says without slowing.

“Training did you nice,” Bryce says in like, the sleaziest voice of all time, and Jared’s still laughing when the elevator doors close behind him.

THESE TWO.

“Okay, Halla,” Jared says, when it doesn’t abate as he heads to the front hall.

“Dinner,” Julius says when Jared opens the door.

“Hi, Julius, good to see you after months, I missed you too,” Jared says.

“Dinner,” Julius insists.

“Yeah, okay, I could eat,” Jared says, and Julius impatiently hovers while Jared puts his shoes on, grabs his wallet and his keys.

Jared's stray cat came back.

“Go be social with your team,” Jared says.

Bryce scoffs.

Still so far for Bryce to go! From this to slutty butterfly.

go b social go to bed ur so bossy, Bryce texts.

Bryce like ‘is he going to be even bossier now that we’re married? …that’s so hot’

112 - Stumbling Block

“I’ve been wondering if it’s too early to propose to my girlfriend,” Morris says.

Jared almost says ‘aren’t you a little young?’ before he realises that sounds patently ridiculous, considering Morris is at least a year older than him, and Jared’s currently wearing a wedding band.

20 years old, the AUDACITY of this boy. (Ben won’t propose for awhile, actually, but Vicki will, of course, say yes, and years down the line comes Liam’s godbaby/Luke’s fave niece Sadie)

“Just, you know, do it when it feels right?” Jared says uncomfortably. He’s not good at advice. Advice isn’t his thing. Does this ring mean he’s going to have to keep doing it? Not that he’ll take it off even if it does mean that, but it’ll suck.

Every single opportunity Jared has to mentor someone results in horrified backpedaling. Do not make this his responsibility.

“Got any pics from your wedding?” Johnson asks. He’s new to the team, picked up in free-agency, so Jared doesn’t know why he’d even care.

Jared: How dare he try to get to know me better upon meeting me, what the fuck is the matter with this guy?

“Not on my phone,” Jared says, and then Johnson, who apparently got married that summer himself, starts showing Jared picture after picture after picture of his own wedding, which is boring, but at least means he drops the subject. Jared’s pretty sure he just asked for an excuse to show all of his pictures, actually.

Trying to bond with a new teammate through a shared experience, what a fucking weirdo, right Jared?

His wife looks very pretty in her wedding gown, and Jared gets slugged hard in the arm for saying so, which he thinks is meant to be affectionate thanks? It hurts.

Jared sulkily rubbed his arm at least three times after that.

Rogers asked if he got married around Calgary, which is an easy question, and Morris asks why they haven’t ever met Jared’s spouse, which he can kind of side-step with a ‘it’s long-distance right now, they’ve got a job they love in Calgary’, and Jacobi asks him his wife’s name, which is — not one that’s easy to side-step. For a couple obvious reasons.

Jared shrugs. “It’s a secret,” he says, trying again to sound bored, probably failing.

Jared Matheson you made it a mystery. Never make it a mystery.

Jacobi waves a dismissive hand. “I’m just saying, the rookie’s fucking with y’all.”

Jared bites back an indignant ‘I’m not a rookie anymore’. It’s not worth it, and Julius will just roll his eyes again.

Jared living in fear of Julius’ disdain.

“Oh yeah?” Jacobi asks. “What’s his wife’s name?”

“It’s a secret,” Julius says without batting an eye, and Jared half wants to hug him, half wants to strangle him.

All hugs from me.

“Let the kid have some privacy if he wants it,” Rogers says, which Jared appreciates.

Whoooole lot of alarm bells ringing in Darryl’s head at this point — it ain’t his first rodeo.

He thinks Julius is smirking beside him, but he doesn’t check, because then he’d be obligated to elbow him.

TERRIFIED of Julius’ disdain. It doesn’t feel nice, does it Jared?

Jared takes back every single bad thing he’s thought or said about Darryl Rogers in his entire life. And it’s a long list, because he’s a good D-man and he’s been the enemy for like, a decade. All scratched. Good dude.

I cannot overstate how viscerally Jared has hated Rogers at points. Like, this guy’s been on the Enemy since Jared was a kid. He’s won games for the Oilers and made plays that lost the game for the Flames. And while he’s managed to let go of (most) of his Oilers angst, that one’s been around for a long time, and it’s one of the last things to go. But clean slate. Good dude. Rogers is a bro.

The Flames still apparently haven’t noticed Bryce is wearing a wedding ring. It’s hit pathetic level of obliviousness. Or maybe they have noticed, they just don’t care enough to ask Bryce about it.

Yeah it’s the second one, Jared.

Jared’s convinced Julius to actually start helping him in the kitchen, decided to tackle some of the more ambitious recipes provided by the team nutritionist, and sometimes the recipes fail and they suffer through it or order delivery, but sometimes him and Julius are sharing a silent, proud nod before shovelling greatness into their mouths.

The friend Jared deserves <3 The next generation of Mathesons will eat well.

The first indication there’s something officially rotten between Jared and Oilers management is, well — it’s not subtle.

Just a general all-round ugh for everything to do with Deslauriers.

His parents always warned him about the hazards of being a gay pro athlete, about the homophobia in the league, and it’s not that he didn’t believe them, he absolutely believed them, but he just — he doesn’t know. Figured he’d be the exception? Hoped, at least.

Again, he’d argue, but he’s an optimist at heart.

112 - Succor

Jared has to call Greg now, he guesses. His parents are probably both working, Bryce he needs to save for last, and Greg’s job is literally Jared. Among other players, obviously, but still. He should call Greg.

Greg doesn’t pick up, so Jared leaves him a message that it’s important and finishes his Gatorade, staring at the blank TV. He’s poured himself a glass of water — hydration’s important or whatever — is halfway through it when Greg calls him back.

Just including the end of this sequence, but the entire start of this part Jared’s gone so hard into repressing his anger he’s hit full on dissociation.

“Greg?” Jared asks. “You still there?”

“You know what this is, right?” Greg asks.

“Deslauriers being a fucking asshole?” Jared asks.

“Well,” Greg says. “Yes. But he’s targeting you professionally for your personal life.”

“I mean, I figured that out, yeah,” Jared says.

Greg, ten minutes into the call: WAIT, THIS IS HOMOPHOBIA. Jared: Yes please keep up.

Poor Greg, he’s so out of his depth.

“And Halla excepted, the ones who know are punishing you for it,” Greg says. “Jared, you don’t have to play for a front office that is personally targeting you. If you want — I can’t necessarily make anything happen, but if you want to request a trade, or I can contact the NHLPA and file a—”

I know this sounds like it’s stating the obvious (and it is), but Greg is just straight up having the realization now because he really didn’t think any of this would fall out the way it did, like, it’s the 21st century, who cares anymore, right?

(Dave knew.)

Greg sighs. “I know you do,” he says, like it isn’t news to him. It’s news to Jared, how much he wants to stay. “Keep me updated, okay? On anything. If he so even walks through a door you’re holding open without saying thank you, I want to know.”

This is a serious crime in Canada.

His dad calls him back within a minute. “On my way to one,” his dad says, with faint distance like he’s driving, using the hands-free. “What’s up, bud? Is Julius coming for dinner? Obviously he’s welcome, I just need to know so I know how much food to make, you guys pack it away.”

Julius is already so welcome in the Matheson household, which is going to serve him well in the future. Don accepted an Oilers player into his household before he was even dating his daughter! (Well. Two Oilers players. One was his son, so he didn't have much of a choice, even as an avid Battler of Alberta)

“Sorry,” Jared says.

“Don’t be sorry,” his dad says. “Deslauriers should be fucking sorry. If I got him in a room he’d be—”

Jared bites down a smile, what feels like his first real one of the day.

Don and Jared are so often at cross purposes in the narrative that it’s always nice when Don is 100% on Jared’s side.

“They can do whatever the fuck they want,” Jared snaps. “I’m not you, Bryce, if the Flames scratched you the entire city would be speculating about what the fuck got their star player scratched. They can do whatever they want to me, doesn’t matter if it makes sense, doesn’t matter if it’s just out of spite, and I can’t do shit, and they know it, and they’re making sure I know it. This is just—”

It’s a message. They can do whatever the fuck they want, they can make Jared sit out a game against his husband, they can make Jared sit out a game in front of his family, they can make Jared sit out a game in his hometown. They can do whatever the fuck they want, and they have.

Message received.

Jared has no interest in bullshit power games, it’s not a tongue he speaks, but he can read it fluently.

“I can’t believe you’re on his side right now,” Jared says.

“I’m on your side,” his mom says. “I’m always on your side. But I know you, Jared, as much as you like to think you’re unknowable, so I’m asking you, right now — when you’ve been meeting with Deslauriers, have you been rude?”

“Well, apparently polite’s rude now, so probably,” Jared says.

“Defensive,” she says. “Combative. Distant. Unwilling to listen.”

Not that Jared has no right to be, he obviously does, but — yeah, Susan has her finger on it. There has been a chill.

(Also 'as much as you like to think you're unknowable' is as absolutely savage as it is accurate)

“In any other industry your front office would be opening themselves up to a lawsuit with this, because this is textbook retaliatory practice. I’m furious for you. But Jared, you need to pay attention to how you come off. You’re not Bryce, you can’t antagonise your management.” Jared doesn’t know if she means that he’s not as good as Bryce, which is accurate, or that she’s implying Bryce has antagonised Flames management, which is — also accurate, but either way he’s pissed.

“Sorry,” Jared says. “I’m so terribly sorry my marriage has been mildly inconvenient for my management, of course they’re right to scratch me, because otherwise how else could I learn—”

“This is exactly what I’m talking about, Jared,” she interrupts. “You’re still young, and I don’t think you realise—”

Susan’s seen a lot of people’s attitudes sink them, and she doesn’t want it happening to Jared This… may not be the ideal time for her to state this. None of the Mathesons are good at holding their tongues when they’re upset. Susan’s typically the best of the bunch, but then, she's quite upset.

Julius has the same protest as everyone else, that he’s playing well, and Jared still appreciates it, maybe extra from Julius, who’s protesting like he’s annoyed his line is getting worse. Not that Greg, his dad, Bryce didn’t mean it about Jared’s play, not that they wouldn’t know what good play looks like either, not just in general, but good play for Jared in particular. But with Julius it’s less ‘why are they scratching you, then?’ and more ‘how dare they take my linemate away? You being scratched personally inconveniences me and I am not here for it’.

I love that Julius being upset for selfish reasons makes Jared happy.

“I could—” Julius says.

“Don’t,” Jared says, before he finishes whatever he was about to offer. Jared’s pretty sure the best thing for him, for this stupid fucking situation, is to grit his teeth and smile and bear it, that Julius protesting, or talking to Deslauriers, anything like that, would just set Deslauriers against him more.

Jared is correct.

114 - Rejection

The Oilers go to Calgary. And like, Jared’s not excluding himself in that. He’s on the flight, obviously, because scratched players travel with the team — the whole point of having more dudes on your roster than on the bench is so they’re there if someone gets hurt or sick last minute, or like, married a Flame and is subsequently getting punished for it.

All common occurrences.

It’s not a long walk to his apartment, and he feels this fundamental sense of relief as soon as he walks in the door, gives the concierge a smile and a wave as he heads for the elevator. Home.

Hi James! (Add him to the name twin pile with all the Mikes and Not-Mikes, Matthews (given and surname), and multiple unrelated Bradleys)

Jared barely hears Bryce’s key in the lock before Bryce is behind him in the kitchen, chin on his shoulder and hands curling around his hips. He must’ve like, sprinted it.

He didn't walk, I'll tell you that.

“If you want to eat you can’t distract me,” Jared says, and Bryce digs his chin in harder before he kisses Jared’s neck, making it very clear where lunch lies on his priority list.

“No lunch?” Jared asks.

There’s a hint of teeth in the next kiss.

Bryce has priorities. Lunch is not on the list.

“We are not having sex in the kitchen,” Jared mumbles against Bryce’s mouth as he fights Bryce’s shirt buttons, and Bryce makes a disagreeable noise in response, but starts steering them towards their room, so that’s good.

Jared has sacrificed his safety for shower sex, but he draws the line at health. No kitchen sex. They make food there. Okay, he makes food there.

Every time he thinks Bryce has reached the plateau of being the best at blow jobs, he figures out how to make it even better. It’s like. There’s probably a hockey metaphor in there, applying himself to his game, getting on the scoresheet, something, but Jared’s too come dumb to think of one.

I admire Bryce's dedication to be the best at all his passions: hockey, marriage, sucking dick.

Hmm,” Bryce says, and kisses Jared’s shoulder in a blatant violation of the no-touching policy. Jared will allow it.

Well that edict lasted ten seconds.

He cuts it close: less than a minute after curfew there’s a curt knock on the door. Jared exchanges a glance with Julius, a silent ‘who’s stuck getting up?’, but considering Jared’s probably the reason it’s happening — they periodically check in on at least the ELC guys to keep them honest, but Jared suspects this is not a random spot check — he gets up and goes to the door.

“Good kid,” Mulligan says, then turns on his heel and walks away.

Mulligan hates everything about this situation.

Mulligan didn’t even check if Julius was there. He could have been out partying.

lol, okay Jared.

Julius is bobbing his head to whatever Finnish death metal band he’s obsessed with at the moment — they all sound the same to Jared, and he bets they would even if they were singing — screaming? — in English — while peeling an orange with his teeth like a total weirdo.

I love him.

He shoots the nauseated face Julius’ way.

Julius looks down at his phone when it buzzes, then pushes his headphones down, scowling at Jared. “What?” he asks.

“Peel the orange with your hands,” Jared says.

He really should have expected the half-peeled orange that comes flying his way.

“Go back to your husband,” Julius mutters.

“Would if I could,” Jared says.

Brothers <3

Jared works very hard on keeping his face completely stoic when the goal goes in. It helps that Bryce just scored on Jared’s goalie, which tempers the flare of vicious satisfaction he feels, thinking of Deslauriers’ face right now. Jared doesn’t like it when people score on his goalies, and that includes his husband. It’s rude.

Poor etiquette to score on your husband's goalie.

They’re wheels up in nine hours. Less than ninety minutes until curfew, and maybe this was a bad idea, maybe he should have gone back to the hotel to stew instead of getting not enough of Bryce again, the time so short he’s just going to feel worse when he leaves, feel cheated. He would have seen even less of Bryce if he was playing, so it’s not the scratch, except it is, it’s the scratch, and the distance, and he puts his fucking ass on the line every single time he steps on the ice, worked so fucking hard to get there, and —

Jared’s so tired.

Oh Jared.

“They gave you first star, right?” Jared asks into Bryce’s chest.

“Yeah,” Bryce says.

“Good,” Jared says. “You deserved it.”

"Thanks,” Bryce says, then, “Sorry,” and Jared closes his eyes when he feels Bryce’s lips brush his hair.

Oh buds.

#liveblogging the end

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nightghoul381 · 10 months

Text

This a fan translation so it is definitely not 100% accurate. I do not own anything related to Ikemen Villains. Support Cybird by buying their amazing stories!

No Warnings for this part, but it does become NSFW in later parts, so MDNI

(Wow… That’s a big boat…!)

I couldn’t help but gasp when I saw the luxury liner Orellus in the midst of a larger than normal crowd of well-dressed people and cargo.

William: “Ahaha, you look happy.”

Kate: “Yes! I’m so happy to be able to go on a boat trip with you, Will.”

Kate: “And it’s not even for a mission—its so extravagant for a completely private trip, it almost feels wrong!”

It was only a few weeks ago that I received an invitation from the ship’s owner—Viscount Morris.

(A ticket to the maiden voyage of the world’s most luxurious liner as a reward for my duties as “Fairytale Master.”)

(As expected of an organization that reports directly to Her Majesty the Queen.)

William: “I thought you said it was your first time on a boat trip, aren’t you worried?”

Kate: “Well… Of course, a little bit.”

(Boat trips can be dangerous and unpredictable…)

(Before I met Will, I would never have had the courage to take the first step.)

(But now--)

My heart is nearly bursting with anticipation.

Kate: “You know what? I like it when things are a little dangerous.”

William: “Huh?”

Kate: “You know what? I like it when things are a little dangerous.”

William: “Huh?”

William smiled softly, as if he knew what my response would be.

He sees through my heart, and Will loves my honesty.

(These moments are my favorite.)

Kate: “Also, if something dangerous happens, I’ll be with you, so I don’t have to worry.”

William: “Haha, you’re predictable.”

William: “…but this time, as I said, it’s both private and a reward for you.”

Kate: “Ah…”

He hugged my waist and put his lips to my ear.

William: “I’m more focused on pampering you as your lover than shielding you as your knight.”

Kate: “…o-okay…”

William: “…Fufu.”

William: “Your ears are red, cute.”

Kate: “Ngh?”

He kissed me on the ear, and I could feel myself turning red up to my neck.

(I…my heart might burst by that time we get back to London…)

A ship’s whistle sounds. It’s almost time to set sail.

As soon as the ship left the harbor, we stepped onto the wide deck.

The expansive sea spreads out as far as the eye can see, and a feeling of exhilaration fills my heart.

Kate: “It feels nice…! Ah, look Will, there’s a piano on the deck.”

On the deck is a beautiful grand piano.

Kate: “…won’t it be damaged by the sea breeze?”

For a moment, I thought it was a decoration and walked over to see it, but there were real piano wires lined up under the large open lid.

William: “It’s a very ‘luxury-liner’ way to use it.”

William: “Whoever put the piano here, even if the wire gets rusted, reducing the life of the instrument…”

William: “I think they wanted to enjoy the pleasure of hearing its music while looking at this scenery.”

Will’s fingertips caressed the edge of the piano’s side plate.

The sailor on deck noticed and came up to us with a smile.

Smiling Sailor: “Anyone is free to play, if they wish.”

(…!)

(I want to hear Will play on this ship.)

I glance at Will’s profile and he smirks, as if he could tell even with his eyes closed.

William: “Your gaze is hot. I feel like I’m going to burn.”

Kate: “…you know why, don’t you, Will?”

William: “I’ll pretend I don’t know.”

Kate: “Huh…?”

William: “…I feel like being begged by my lover.”

His inviting glance made my cheeks heat up again.

Kate: “…Oh, God.”

Kate: “You know I’m weak against your temptations, right?”

William: “Of course.”

Kate: “…I want you to play a song. I hope it’ll make whoever put the piano here feel great.”

William: “Haha, the hurdles are high.”

William: “…But if it’s a request from my lover, of course, I’ll gladly play.”

Just as Will began to walk over to the piano bench—

Female voice: “Kyaah! Somebody, somebody come!”

Male voice: “Gah, a person… a person is dead!”

(What…!?)

William: “…Sailing with a corpse.’”

William: “Sounds right up our alley, eh?”

What an amazing interior… If you only look here, it’s more like a luxury hotel than a ship.

Deck passengers were instructed to gather in the hall until safety was confirmed.

We descended the stairs and step under the glittering chandelier.

William: “It’s so crowded, don’t stray too far.”

Kate: “…uh, yes…”

A hand around my waist pulls me in smartly.

I feel so carefully protected that the shock of the earlier screams had already vanished without a trace.

William: “Look… Here comes trouble.”

Kate: “Hmm…?”

I followed Will’s line of sight to the middle of the crowd.

A man with green eyes and black hair wearing a frock coat seemed to be arguing about something.

Red-faced aristocrat: “I don’t know if you’re a detective or something, but treating someone like a murderer when you’re not the police tests the limits of our patience.”

(Detective…?)

Red-faced aristocrat: “Excuse me!”

Man in frock coat: “I’m not treating you like a murderer.”

Man in frock coat: “If you’re not the real culprit, we’ll never meet again!”

The aristocratic man huffed away and the other man lifted one corner of his lips in a smirk.

William: “That man is a detective in London. I’ve heard stories.”

William: “It’s said that he protects the peace of mind of citizens by solving cases that even the police won’t deal with.”

William: “He’s a weirdo who wants to get himself in trouble.”

Kate: “...seems like someone you would like, Will, doesn’t it?”

William: “Fufu, you know me well, don’t you?”

(…!)

Will smiled happily and pressed his lips to my hair.

(…I’m happy that Will can see through me.)

(And I’m really happy that I can feel like I’m starting to understand Will.)

At that moment, the detective’s green eyes suddenly turned toward us.

William/Kate: “…!”

The detective headed our way, walking steadily toward us.

(Wh-what is it…)

Feeling like prey in the eyes of a predator, I swallow unintentionally.

Detective: “Pardon me. Are you Earl William Rex?”

Part 1 | Part 2 | Premium End | Epilogue

#ikevil william #ikevil #ikemen villains #ikemen villains william #william rex #ikevil translations

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i-didnt-do-1t · 11 months

Text

“Don’t really think Death cares if someone’s got a big brother to fight him off Jack.”

To the anon who asked if I could write a Morris getting hurt fic, I have finally done it :) Enjoy, it’s a slightly longer one

“I mean we can’t just leave him here.”

Jack was silent for a second too long. Davey whacked his arm. “Jack.”

“Look, I ain’t saying we leave him here but whatever happened him he probably done something to deserve it.”

“Jack.”

“Don’t give me that look Dave, I ain’t a heartless bastard.”

He rolled his right shoulder and crouched down next to Morris, unconscious on the dusty cobble stone street, pressing two fingers to his neck, just to double check, just to make sure.

“He’s alive.”

“I never thought he wasn’t.” David said, and he could hear the accusation in his own voice, even if he knew it was unwarranted. “You’re telling me you thought he was dead? And you were going to leave him?”

“Christ Davey, I weren’t gonna leave nobody okay, we just-“ he stopped, moved around Morris’s body, tried to avoid stepping in the pool of blood that had formed- formed from somewhere. Some mystery injury that Davey couldn’t see yet but already had him more on edge than usual. He took his hat off his head and shoved a hand through his hair just for something to do so he wouldn’t start fidgeting. “We just needa get him somewhere that ain’t here. Dave, grab his legs okay? Or take his other arm an’ we can keep him upright.”

He put his hat back on his head.

“Are you sure we should be moving him?”

“No. But I ain’t sure what else to do, so stop complainin’ and grab his other arm.”

For once, David did as he was told without debate, grabbed Morris’s arm and hoisted him upward, pulling the dead weight limb over his shoulder. Jack did the same with his other side until he was in some approximation of standing, his entire body weight reliant on both of them, a little more tipped in Jack’s favour because Jack was stronger. (The arm wrestle they had which confirmed this was unbelievably embarrassing but the result of it was surprising to no one)

It was obvious now, as they pulled him up, where the pool of blood had come from if the stained red torso of Morris’s shirt was anything to go by. Suddenly, David could taste bile in the back of his throat.

“Shit.” He muttered and he made the active decision to not let his knees buckle. All at once Morris’s body felt ten times heavier. “Jack he’s been stabbed or something.”

“What?” Jack’s head jerked up from where he was adjusting Morris’s arm around his shoulder. “Fuck.” It was a low murmur. “Shit, okay. Do you know where he lives?”

“No? Near the distribution centre. right?” He paused. “Wait, shit, okay Les said they came from around the back of it, it can’t be far.”

Jack readjusted his grip on Morris again. David did the same.

“He’s not going to die right?”

“Course’ not.”

Jack was liar. But he wouldn’t now, surely, not about this.

“Right.” David breathed, “Of course not.”

(The thought sat heavy in the pit of his stomach anyway)

—

It took five minutes to reach the distribution gate, another two to decide which ramshackle apartment around the back belonged to the Delancey’s. Morris hadn’t woken up yet, not properly. Nothing more than a few groans when one of them moved a little too quickly, when one of them readjusted their grip on him a little too roughly. As bad as it might sound David took the noises of discomfort to be a good thing. A thing that meant he was still alive.

About halfway back David decided he couldn’t stare at the spot of shiny coppery blood on his stomach anymore, had made Jack stop just long enough so he could take off his jacket (it was cold mid November) and tie it tightly around Morris’s waist. At least maybe that could help stop the slow sluggish bleeding.

“Alright.” Jack said, a little out of breath. “This one I think. That’s Weasel’s hat in the kitchen window.”

Davey didn’t need to be told twice, he tightened his grip around Morris’s ribs, ignored the way his head lolled forward and the forming purple-blue bruise around his eye, and knocked as loudly as he could manage on the door.

It hadn’t occurred to him until now that no one might be home, or that Weasel himself might open the door.

One glance at Jack told him that he hasn’t thought about it either.

It was a given to both of them that Oscar would be there, that Oscar would help but now that they were here, there was no guarantee that he was even in the house.

And as much as David tried not to think about it, it had happened once before that the Delancey’s had shown up to work, Morris with a bruised cheek and Oscar with bruised knuckles and maybe Jack wasn’t the smartest guy around but he was smart enough to put that one together, and had mentioned it to David a few hours later.

It had only been once, but the memory made Davey’s shoulder’s tense a little, still, Blink had punched him once and he still knew the guy had his back. He couldn’t judge anything, and the Delancey’s were weird.

He banged harder on the door.

On the other hand he had actually seen Weasel backhand Morris at the counter one time, and the more he thought about it, the less comfortable he felt about the idea of leaving Morris here with Weasel if Oscar wasn’t in, even if he had just shrugged off the slap with a tensed jaw, an eye roll and practically threw the papers at David’s chest hard enough to make him stumble back.

But what were the other options? Bring him back to the lodging house? To David’s home-

“Christ Mo,” The voice from the other side of the door was oddly fond, slightly frustrated, familiar enough in the way that David had heard it on his own tongue before. “Just cause you forgot your goddamn key don’t mean you gotta take it out on the door-“

The front door was roughly yanked open. It took less than a second for Oscar’s face to morph from something somewhat neutral to a snarl as his eyes jumped from David to Morris. His gaze finally rounded on Jack.

“What the fuck did you do?”

“We ain’t done nothing, we found him alright?” He propped him up again. “You gotta sofa we can lie him on or something?”

He thinks Oscar would’ve fought him on it, if his second glance at Morris didn’t have his eyes darting to the jacket, tight around his waist, already stained through with red.

“Fucking hell.”

He didn’t ask before he shouldered Davey out of the way hard enough he stumbled back, and took his place, Morris’s arm around his shoulder and his own around his brother’s waist.

He led them into the house. David followed.

And David continued to follow when they turned off from the kitchen, Oscar kicking open the rickety wooden door that led to what he assumed was their bedroom.

He did his best not to look around. Did his best not to notice the lack of things anywhere but he was nosey by nature. Maybe it was because his house was filled with stuff, smoothed pieces of glass that Les found interesting and had decided collect, various doilies and sections of lace Sarah had hung up anywhere she could hang things, articles his father enjoyed and had cut out of newspapers, stacks of his mothers favourite books, piles of pages of David’s own writing. Every surface, every nook and cranny was covered with things- this house, not so dissimilar from David’s own- was empty. Blank. Like ghosts lived there instead of people.

“Bed to the right.” Oscar muttered, voice low.

Jack complied without a word, gently moving around the bed, careful in the way he lay Morris down on it.

There was blood soaked in to Jack’s shirt Davey realised, now that Morris wasn’t slumped against him, it was barely noticeable against the already red background, but deeper and smeared, making his shirt stick to him. David didn’t need to look down to his check his own, he could already feel it.

Oscar had his hands on Morris’s face, on his neck, on his chest, on his torso untying the jacket with an urgency that made David need to do something to help.

“What the fuck happened?” Oscar ground out as he grabbed a sheet from the end of the bed, (messy and unmade Davey noticed) and bundled it up in a ball, pressed it to the hole in Morris’s lower right stomach. He didn’t look at either of them.

It felt like an oddly intimate act to witness, the gentleness with which he brought a hand to Morris’s pale face and flushed cheeks.

Davey shuffled uncomfortable, desperate to do something.

“We found him,” Jack said, “not far from the distribution centre. He was like this when we got there.”

He sounded as uncomfortable as David felt.

“What and you ain’t seen nobody else?”

“Woulda told you if we did Oscar.”

“Yeah? Cuz I ain’t so sure Cowbo-“

“Can we do anything to help?” Apparently David was good at finding his voice just before things went to shit.

Oscar glanced round at him like he had forgotten he was there.

The silence went on for less than a second but felt like it lasted a lifetime.

“Get some water.” He said eventually, abruptly.

“Right.” He grabbed Jack’s forearm. Vaguely aware he was leaving sticky fingerprints on his skin. “Water.”

He dragged Jack out of the room behind him, didn’t know whether or not he was meant to close the door so he didn’t touch it.

“Did he mean water to clean the wound or to drink.”

“I don’t know. Both?”

David nodded, “Right. Both.”

He had an excuse to look through the cupboards now, a reason to use his hands in a way that helped shake the nervous energy. He was vaguely aware of the smear of copper he was leaving on everything he touched but couldn’t find it within himself to care just yet, because Morris could still die. People had died from less right? The man that lived in the apartment above them died two years ago after a cut on his leg got infected, and that was only a small thing, Morris’s wound seemed deep, and it was still bleeding and-

“Dave.”

Shit. Everything smelt like iron.

“Sorry, sorry, here’s a glass.”

“You alright?”

“Should we see if we can find a cloth?”

“Oi. Davey.”

There was a hand on his shoulder.

He stopped, took a breath, refused to meet Jack’s eyes. “Sorry. I’m fine I just-“

He didn’t know how to end the sentence.

“You ain’t never seen someone stabbed before.”

David glanced down at the glass in his hand, now covered with rusted fingerprints.

“Something like that.” He shook his head and shrugged Jack off and turned to the sink while Jack grabbed a clean looking cloth from a dish wrack with two washed plates next to it, and ran it under the warm water.

“He’ll be fine Davey.” His voice was quiet in the empty room. And then softer. “Specially if he’s got Oscar looking after him. He ain’t gonna let anything happen to him.”

“Don’t really think Death cares if someone’s got a big brother to fight him off Jack.”

And something on Jack’s face shifted for a second, near imperceptibly, then his mouth pulled up at the corners in the way that meant it was forced and didn’t carry to his eyes as he ducked his head and squeezed the water out of the cloth.

“I think he might.” Jack swallowed awkwardly and cleared his throat, then louder, over David’s shoulder. “Oscar, take his shirt off him.”

“Done it already Kelly, I ain’t a moron.”

He moved around Davey, slapped a hand in his shoulder on the way past. “Stay here Davey, clean up the blood maybe.”

For the second time that day, Davey did exactly what Jack asked without debate.

—-

It was forty-five minutes later. Morris’s eyelids had flickered once as far as he was aware and he was warm to the touch, according to a low mutter from Oscar who asked for another cold cloth to place on his forehead.

Jack had nipped out to see if he could scrounge up something to drink that was a little more sugary than water and some thread to close the wound, David for his part tried to stay out of the way.

He wasn’t meant to be here. This ghost town.

He wrapped and unwrapped the bandage he’d found in a cupboard which had been empty aside from a couple cheap bottles of beer around his hand as he headed back to the bedroom, except he stppped short outside the bedroom door (Oscar had closed it the second he left) when he heard speaking.

“Jesus Morris.” Oscar’s voice was low, quiet, only a little louder than a whisper. “You’re an idiot you know that? I’m gonna kill you if you die you know that right?”

He paused, David overheard the light clacking of something, wooden bead against wooden bead.

“You want me to pray is that it? This some big idea to get me to use your dumb beads cuz I’ll do it but I’ll be pissed about it.”

More silence.

“Christ Morris, c’mon open your eyes or somethin’ alright? Morris?”

More shuffling, the sound of knees hitting the floor.

“You can’t leave me here on my own alright? You can’t do that to me Mo.”

He shouldn’t be hearing this. He wanted to knock on the door but couldn’t bring himself to move his hand.

“But fine, see I’m doing it alright?”

A pause, a somewhat shaky voice.

“God, it’s been a while. An’ I know I ain’t exactly been a model citizen but you ain’t done shit for me either, I-“ an exhale. “but Morris, he’s tryin’ n’ you can’t let him die.” His voice wavered. “C’mon Morris. Don’t leave me on my own.”

A pause. David didn’t breathe.

“Hail Mary, full of grace-“

David shouldn’t be here.

Before his brain was even aware his body was moving he slammed his fist into the door, knocking hard and loud. He pretended he didn’t hear the scramble as Oscar rose to his feet. Pretended it took him a second to get the door open because of the bandages he was holding.

“What?” The word was snapped.

He made the active decision to ignore how Oscar’s eyes were rimmed red, to ignore the rosary beads shoved half-heartedly in his pocket.

“I got bandages.”

His eyes didn’t soften any as he snatched them, David almost flinched. “Good.”

____

“Hey, hey Mo.” For the first time in hours his eyelids moved. “C’mon moron open your eyes, you done it a million times before.”

“Christ,” Morris’s voice was cracked and quiet, like he’d barely spoken at all. “Why m’ I feeling like someone came at me with a belt.”

Oscar barked out a laugh and David couldn’t process the sound, he looked at Jack who was stood stock still leaning against the wall in the corner of the room instead.

Oscar’s hand carded through Morris’s hair in an action that looked rough, but wasn’t, another hand on his shoulder, keeping him pinned in place so he wouldn’t tear his stitches.

“You got stabbed you fucking idiot. Always pickin’ fights with the wrong people.”

Immediately Morris rolled his eyes, despite them being barely open to begin with. “Yeah like you can talk Oz.”

His voice was drowsy, like he’d had one too many whiskeys.

It was one of those moments again that David had been having so many off since they first stepped foot through the door, a moment he didn’t think he was meant to witness, one he shouldn’t have been allowed to see.

Apparently half-conscious Morris shared the sentiment, David jumped when he heard his name.

“The fuck is Jacobs doing here. Why the hell-“ he exhaled sharp and harsh, coughed twice something rough and painful. “Why the hell have both Jacobs been in my room. What the fuck is this.”

“Davey and Cowboy found your dumbass after you got yourself stabbed in a back alley.” He shoved a glass toward him. “Drink some water.”

“I got blood on my sheets.”

“Yeah moron you were bleeding.”

Then all at once the fight seemed to drain out of him, not that there was much to begin with but he’d woken up which was a feat in itself. “I’m real tired Oscar”

“Go to sleep then.”

“I ain’t said my prayers.”

“I’ll say em’ for you. Go to sleep.”

Morris didn’t answer, instead nodded near imperceptibly as he seemed to suddenly forget there were other people in the room and closed his eyes the millimetre they’d been open. Immediately his body relaxed again, the tension David had barely noticed over taking his shoulders, leaving.

Accidentally he met eyes with Oscar, but it was only a second before his gaze darkened to something familiar and shifted to Jack instead. Davey took that as his cue to step back and notice how the bed on the other side of the room was made up, how it had a couple of books sat on the night stand next to it, a pair of brass knuckles on top of them.

“You tell anyone about this and you’re dead Cowboy.”

Jack held two hands up in surrender. “I won’t say a word. You need an excuse why he won’t be at the gate tomorrow?”

“Not from you.”

“Okay.” He paused. “I’m glad he’s alright.”

Oscar scoffed, looked at his brother. “Sure, Kelly.”

And then Jack took that as his cue, turned to leave. He got as far as swinging the door open when Oscar spoke again.

“Thanks.”

It was short and gruff, Jack just turned around, face blank, and tipped his hat.

Which left Davey stood there. Like an idiot.

“I’m glad he’s okay.” He said, for lack of anything else to say. And because it was the truth. (He had washed his hands a hundred times over but could still feel the stickiness of dried blood clinging to them)

Oscar gave him a look, one he couldn’t decipher, which wasn’t unusual, but it wasn’t one he was familiar with either. Something more inquisitive than threatening.

“Why the hell did you care. You and Kelly both.”

David exchanged the weight of his feet from one to the other, glanced at Morris asleep and pale but alive, then back to Oscar again, he shrugged lightly.

“I have a younger brother too.”

XxX

(When Morris showed back up at the distribution gate two weeks later, David could feel his gaze following him. He didn’t say anything, nor did Morris, nor did Jack. But he noticed when Morris handed him his papers instead of shoving them into his chest.)

#newsies #jack kelly #morris delancey #davey jacobs #the delancey brothers #oscar delancey #newsies fanfiction #I love alluding to Michael with Jack

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hellosammy19 · 1 year

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Delancey Backstories from Stage Actors

Okay, so there's a few things - I'll put them in order of date said. This is for an objective look.

Trading Cards - OBC Delanceys Mike and Brendon's backstories (this is the only pair of Delanceys that outwardly said Wiesel was their uncle)

2. Mike Faist saying that deep down Morris is a nice guy in his interview video filmed by Andrew

youtube

3. Anthony Norman saying in an article that his Oscar grew up in the refuge -https://www.broadwayworld.com/chicago/article/BWW-Interview-Chicago-Native-Anthony-Norman-Discusses-Life-on-NEWSIES-National-Tour-20160725

4. Alex Prakken saying on his Newsies Rally's QnA session

(he says that each pair of Delanceys have their own interpretations)

(his working understanding is that Delanceys used to be newsies but turned to working for Wiesel and the brother's relationship with the newsies bitter because of it- they're just kids that were just in a bad situation)

5. Uksies - Alex and George saying that Oscar was older than Morris

(if there's something I missed, please reply to the post with a source)

(I thought it was about time to do a resource post because our resources are scarce and we can't leave anything behind)

#Alex P's video is a big one #newsies #morris delancey #oscar delancey #mike faist #brendon stimson #anthony norman #alex prakken #alex james-hatton #george crawford #the delancey brothers #newsies broadway #newsies the musical #newsies uk #Youtube

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vickyvicarious · 1 year

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May 24, or: Lucy and the Three Suitors

The first was too straightforward, the second was too jolly, and the last was just right.

...Okay, it's not quite that simple, especially given that Lucy didn't describe Arthur's proposal in detail, but it's still interesting to notice the differences in their proposals and what that reveals about them as characters, or more specifically about their relationship to Lucy. Let's take a glance. (This wound up just being Lucy/Arthur propaganda, basically.)

John 'Jack' Seward

"number One came just before lunch"

"He was very cool outwardly, but was nervous all the same. He had evidently been schooling himself as to all sorts of little things, and remembered them; but he almost managed to sit down on his silk hat, which men don't generally do when they are cool, and then when he wanted to appear at ease he kept playing with a lancet in a way that made me nearly scream."

"He spoke to me, Mina, very straightforwardly. He told me how dear I was to him, though he had known me so little, and what his life would be with me to help and cheer him."

"He was going to tell me how unhappy he would be if I did not care for him, but when he saw me cry he said that he was a brute and would not add to my present trouble. Then he broke off and asked if I could love him in time; and when I shook my head his hands trembled"

"with some hesitation he asked me if I cared already for any one else. He put it very nicely, saying that he did not want to wring my confidence from me, but only to know, because if a woman's heart was free a man might have hope."

"he looked very strong and very grave as he took both my hands in his and said he hoped I would be happy, and that if I ever wanted a friend I must count him one of my best"

Number One obviously practiced for this. He rehearsed it in his head, had a clear script, and only broke away from that when it became very obvious that his straightforward and direct approach was upsetting Lucy. He cut himself off right away once he did notice, to his credit, but still seemed to hold hopes that perhaps this might be just because she doesn't know him well enough yet, or that he might hold out hope for the future. Depending on whether or not you think the suitors all knew they had shared affections for the same girl (I lean towards yes), then the hesitation kind of points towards him hoping it isn't what he already suspects to be true.

He knew he would be extremely nervous and attempted to hide his nerves by carefully and deliberately controlling his actions. But again and again, Lucy saw through him. I think his coming earlier in the day points as well to 'getting it over with', not letting his nerves build up even longer (especially if he knows the others are proposing too and if she says yes he won't get a chance). The way he spoke to her, very directly and clearly, points not only to nerves and trying to stick to things that are simple/difficult to bungle, but also to a more direct approach socially. He's not as comfortable with talking around things, he wants to be clear and direct. This isn't a bad quality but is one that might be difficult for Lucy if he expects the same from other people. She has already made a couple of comments that suggest she has a hard time being honest/direct with her words. If this man doesn't notice her unease until she is literally crying in front of him, he's probably not tuned in enough to be able to get her to admit when something is bothering her.

While he meant only the best, he was unable to easily read her feelings, and unable to hide the depth his own. He left Lucy feeling guilty that she couldn't reciprocate, knowing that by failing to do so she was causing him pain.

Quincey P. Morris

"number Two came after lunch"

"He is such a nice fellow, an American from Texas, and he looks so young and so fresh that it seems almost impossible that he has been to so many places and has had such adventures. [...] I know now what I would do if I were a man and wanted to make a girl love me. No, I don't,"

"he found out that it amused me to hear him talk American slang, and whenever I was present, and there was no one to be shocked, he said such funny things"

"Mr. Morris sat down beside me and looked as happy and jolly as he could, but I could see all the same that he was very nervous."

"'Miss Lucy, I know I ain't good enough to regulate the fixin's of your little shoes, but I guess if you wait till you find a man that is you will go join them seven young women with the lamps when you quit. Won't you just hitch up alongside of me and let us go down the long road together, driving in double harness?'"

"he did look so good-humoured and so jolly that it didn't seem half so hard to refuse him as it did poor Dr. Seward; so I said, as lightly as I could, that I did not know anything of hitching, and that I wasn't broken to harness at all yet. Then he said that he had spoken in a light manner, and he hoped that if he had made a mistake in doing so on so grave, so momentous, an occasion for him, I would forgive him."

"He really did look serious when he was saying it, and I couldn't help feeling a bit serious too"

"before I could say a word he began pouring out a perfect torrent of love-making, laying his very heart and soul at my feet. He looked so earnest over it that I shall never again think that a man must be playful always, and never earnest, because he is merry at times. I suppose he saw something in my face which checked him, for he suddenly stopped, and said with a sort of manly fervour that I could have loved him for if I had been free:—'[...]Tell me, like one good fellow to another, is there any one else that you care for?"

"That quite won me, Mina, for it was brave and sweet of him, and noble, too, to a rival—wasn't it?—and he so sad; so I leant over and kissed him."

"He wrung my hand, and taking up his hat, went straight out of the room without looking back, without a tear or a quiver or a pause; and I am crying like a baby."

Quincey followed right after lunch, right in the middle of the day. Once again, she saw that he looked nervous, but by and large he succeeds too well in hiding his own feelings from Lucy. This is the opposite problem from the last proposal. She notices his charm plenty, but because there is so much of it and because he does it so well, she initially feels that he is less sincere, or at least less vulnerable. Lucy is more moved by Quincey, and thinks he could win her over if she weren't already in love, but she also seems to think his charm is more generally polished and not as specific to her. In reality though, Quincey has been altering his behavior to please her and came with a planned proposal that he thought would make her happy. Once again, it didn't go the way he expected and he had to improvise, but the way he did so was different. He deliberately opened up and let her see how deeply he felt, and then that moved her much more than his lighthearted approach had. But he also noticed her emotions weren't quite matching his, and stopped himself. He noticed sooner, and she again responded to him more, but this was still after he had given his big speech 'before she could say a word', somewhat cutting her off. Once again, the communication isn't quite on a level, although it comes closer.

Quincey is more socially adept but also more likely to hold back his own feelings. He tells stories and jokes to please others. While he's generally more confident, I think the way it takes him so long to bare his emotions also can point to him having difficulty opening up like that. Sure, it was a strategy, but one that speaks to how he usually approaches difficult conversations. He's generally not as comfortable being so direct, at least about his own feelings (of course when he has to face that she doesn't return them, he isn't hesitant/is brave, and once he acts he does so resolutely). He's more similar to Lucy in this way, but maybe too similar, enough that it's hard for both of them to be serious/straightforward with one another. When he got her to take him seriously and it didn't work out, he retreated and she was left feeling guilty once again. Less so than before, I think, as she has more confidence in his ability to handle his own emotions, but that could also just point to her not being able to see him as clearly.

Arthur Holmwood

"Arthur tried twice to make a chance, and I helping him all I could;"

"it was all so confused; it seemed only a moment from his coming into the room till both his arms were round me, and he was kissing me"

"I am very, very happy, and I don't know what I have done to deserve it. I must only try in the future to show that I am not ungrateful to God for all His goodness to me in sending to me such a lover, such a husband, and such a friend."

Less to say here! But let's notice how it contrasts the others. While they had only one successful try, Arthur has taken three attempts to get out his proposal (counting this successful one). This could point to a couple of things - he sees her more often, he's alone with her more frequently but for shorter amounts of time, he's more confident he will be received well, he's having trouble holding his feelings back. I think it's probably a combination of all of the above. They've spent a lot of time together, enough to start rumors. Her mom likes him a lot and wants to spend time with him too, and perhaps thus interrupts them more. Lucy has also been trying to help him make chances, which he's noticed. And lastly, he doesn't even attempt to hide his feelings here.

Earlier, Lucy mentioned that she wasn't sure he loved her back, but it seems like that may be more her doubting herself than him trying to restrain his emotions. Because at least as far as we are told, he doesn't try to control himself at all. He also does not have a speech. Maybe this is down to the earlier failed attempts, and he wants to just get it all out now in a rush. But regardless, in this entry at least Lucy is able to clearly read his interest, and he can clearly read hers in return. Rather than the mistakes made between the others, there is no confusion here. They are both on the same page.

Any one of these men could have potentially won Lucy over in different circumstances. They all genuinely love her and they all have good relationships. (I love the way Lucy emphasizes that Arthur is her friend too, as well as the others.) But Lucy/Arthur is the couple we end up with. Partly this is due to pre-existing feelings. But I think timing aside, we also see that there are some communication difficulties with the other two men. Whether it's trouble noticing the other's emotions (Lucy for Quincey, Jack for Lucy), or difficulty communicating the depth of their own feelings (Quincey, Lucy), etc.

The usage of the planned and specific proposal vs. the more spontaneous and confused one illustrates this well. Lucy entries continue to have a focus on the ability to speak freely. Sure, we don't actually hear either of the couple speak directly here, but that actually points to them being so caught up in/openly expressing themselves that it's all just a jumble. There is no long stilted conversation, no one-sided speechifying. They're both involved, both equally caught up in emotion.

Not to get into spoilers, but... I think it's important for Lucy to be with someone who is able to tell how she is feeling, and communicate his own emotions clearly to her. It's a good match for her tendency to downplay or have difficulty expressing herself. While everyone could do well enough, the way the proposals are written set Arthur up as having the best ability to be open/get Lucy to open up as well.

Sure, her mother likes him, and he's rich and titled, but on an interpersonal level I think he is genuinely the best choice for her, not merely a safe one.

#dracula daily #lucy westenra #lucy/arthur #suitor squad #jack seward #quincey morris #arthur holmwood #my meta

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studentinpursuitofclouds · 15 days

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That one recent question about Amethyne RSV gave me another one; how would the event be if Lance ever met with one of the Amethynes?

Let's just say the family had something to do with the adventurers. Maybe they tried to established a new Ferngill Republic department of defense, or a private security company that specializes with monsters (it's just a prompt that I randomly came up with, I'm sorry if it sounds dumb 🥲)

They need someone they can consult with, or even better, establish collaboration. For some reason, they managed to contact Lance (either they asked Farmer, or just knew him since from one of Victor's heart event, Lance seems to be the type of adventurer who is famous and approachable due to his friendly nature)

I can imagine, since from what I heard somewhere, Lance came from a noble family. So he knew pretty well high society etiquette, but never show them to anyone because of his humble personality. But when he met the Amethyne, he unconsciously let those etiquette lesson seep out (again, this might sound dumb, but I just love a situation where Lance unknowingly let others see his nobility side, especially to other noble that doesn't know his family and known him only as an adventurer)

Thank you for reading my super long rambling

Yes yes yes yes! Y E S !

Be aware, dear anon 😅 also super long rumbling:

_________________________________________

I definitely remember discussing with someone the possibility of Lance meeting the Amethyne family (at least one of them, like Maive), as the Farmer's spouse, not on official business. But this event is entirely possible!

Because if you recall the events in SVE, civilians can hire adventurers as mercenaries and bodyguards, and it doesn't violate the rules of the Guilds themselves or the Order. How exactly this happens, and whether it is somehow documented (by contract) is unknown, and yet it is there. Gunther was able to hire a Farmer to accompany him to the Mines, so why can't other adventurers do such a thing if it means extra profit and glorification of the Guild's name?

The north of Ridgeside Village is teeming with monsters, and although ninja assassins stand guard, they don't officially show up anywhere. Also, people are realizing that monsters exist, which means that if the problem gets to be too big, it's time to call in the professionals. And since the Amethyne family are (officially or not - I can't say) patrons of Ridgeside Village, looking out for the very community, like Lenny, they will send urgent letters to verified Guilds, offering work in the "cleanup".

Maive would definitely push for an urgent meeting with the Guild heads or deputies, as she wouldn't allow a possible threat to Ridgeside Village, plus the area covered in monsters could be utilized. I came up with this "Maive want an expansion everywhere" theory, because I vividly remember meeting her at the resort on Ginger Island, and the first thing she said was about "expanding the resort and creating a tourist spot here", or something like that. That surprised me a little bit. I don't know why the hell our Madame thinks she can do whatever she wants, but apparently she has enough power and the means to do it, she feels so confident. So Maive can do the same with Ridge Forest.

Now the question: which Guilds will respond?

The famous Castle Village was the first choice, since it's all professional monster hunters (also the prices are sharp, as Morris confirms when he hired them for Spirit's Eve, but it's not a problem for wealthy noble family), but due to some personal factors, Camilla said no. Okay, whatever, Maive will complain, and starts looking for other options later. The Adventurer's Guild is the most logical option, as the headquarters is not far away, but Marlon is unlikely to agree to deal with this family of demanding aristocrats, even for a lot of money (his own nerves are more important). And The First Slash Clan comes to mind.

Jolyne could safely let Lance, as her second-in-command, negotiate such contracts if it meant a benefit to the First Slash itself. Given that our pink-haired adventurer is smart and well-mannered (we won't mention here the possibility that Lance can be a smug bitch), his charm, silver tongue and friendly nature, he will always make good deals, Jolyne trusts him to do so.

Maive will invite Lance to a meeting at her mansion for dinner because that's what the rules of hospitality in her house require (also headcanons, because idk how this things works). Madame was morally prepared for all the antics of the guest, considering adventurers rather rude in communication and ill-mannered. Anything to bargain for the work. And what was her surprise when Lance spoke to her according to all the rules, as a civilized man, knows table etiquette perfectly and in general a very pleasant and polite person. Maive's discerning eyes wouldn't miss it all. The conversation somehow touched on Lance's personal life, to which he would politely and modestly confirm his pedigree of noble adventurers.

So now the adventurer from First Slash will take care of the monster problem, because Maive is sure that at least one of their guild members can be dealt with properly.

She won't ask about Lance in more detail about his life, because with all due respect, these are rather personal matters and her upbringing doesn't allow her to go overboard. But it will be allowed if Lance also happens to be the husband of Farmer, best friend of all Amethyne members and grandchild of Maive's old friends. That's where she learns all the details.

_________________________________________

I apologize if my rumbling got a little chaotic, but I've always been in favor of the idea of Lance interacting with the Amethyne family and what would come of it. Thank you again for your interesting thoughts, I really enjoyed rereading your ask! 😊💖

#sve #stardew valley expanded #sve lance #ridgeside village #rsv #sve headcanon #rsv headcanons #thanks for the ask!

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yallemagne · 1 year

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Okay but consider: If Quincey hadn't died... the other option of someone from the crew dying is undeniably Jonathan. He had DEATH FLAGS GALORE on him.

Oh, buddy. You came into my house. Didn't even take your shoes off at the door, didn't ring the doorbell. Oh, buddy. Dunno what this is in response to or if it is in response to anything?? I haven't talked about Quincey's death like... since it happened.

So, here we go.

I have already thought of this, you fool. It’d be very easy to kill Jonathan off instead. At the very end? Definitely. It’s just a matter of switching who gets stabbed. And, to be honest, it's... the obvious choice. That neither Jonathan nor Van Helsing die but Quincey does is surprising from a storyteller's perspective. The Lover doesn't die valiantly saving his wife? The Mentor doesn't die valiantly saving his student? The Cowboy dies?

Now, the happiness of the original epilogue would be… impossible to replicate with this change. Anyone who might attempt to suggest to me that Mina could/would remarry and have children with someone else can leave immediately. Never talk to me.

Baby Quincey (perhaps he'd be called Jonathan instead?) could not exist in the same way because that's not how pregnancy works. Mina would have to be pregnant a looooong time for her baby to be born on the anniversary of her husband's death. Though I suppose you could pull a Phantom Blood: have Mina already pregnant with Jonathan’s child and just have him be born earlier than the anniversary. Make it the anniversary of something else, perhaps. I just don’t like that people would then speculate about the father (they already do even when it’s impossible with the original epilogue). But that’s not what this is about. We’re not talking about new life, we’re talking about death.

Jonathan Harker dies. The knife that would have pierced Quincey Morris in another lifetime stabs Jonathan instead, and all his strength flees from his body as soon as the Count has crumbled to dust. Quincey catches him as he falls and shudders at just how light the man is. This is the same man who jumped onto the back of a moving cart and threw that bastard's crate of dirt off the back like it weighed nothing to him...

Mina screams. She runs to her husband, paying no mind to the circle that she should not have been able to cross. She's certain that not even God could keep her from her husband at this moment. With trembling hands, she rips off her scarf and presses it to the wound, helplessly trying to stop the bleeding. She’s abandoned all fear of being seen as hysterical, screaming at the doctors to do something, for God to have mercy, for Jonathan not to leave her. She screams, and no one can stop her.

“You swore—!” she cries, and if not for the circumstances, she would have grabbed him by the shoulders and shaken his body in anger. “You swore I would never have to go into that unknown and terrible land alone!”

Jonathan’s breath falters at the words being spoken aloud. However, his gaze falls on her face where the scar condemning her to that dreadful unlife should be, and his cracked bloody lips pull into a grin as he brushes her hair back with a shaky hand. “I swear... I did not lie, Wilhelmina.”

The other men only catch a glimpse of her unmarred forehead —whiter than the snow beneath them that is staining red, red, red— before she lurches forward and presses it to Jonathan’s own.

Mina clenches her jaw so hard that she feels her teeth may shatter. What should be a moment for rejoicing is anything but. The same God that shunned her and burned her only grants her his love again after stealing away from her the only thing that ever mattered. Is this the mercy what she had been asking of Jonathan a month ago? Is this emptiness in her chest the same she would have inflicted upon him by forcing him to drive a stake into her heart?

She prays aloud, though to a different god this time —the only one whose love and acceptance ever truly mattered— her Jonathan. She begs for a miracle, her tears falling upon his cheeks and mixing with his, and he would grant her wishes if only he were capable of such things.

They kiss. Nothing could ever prevent them from doing so. Even if the stain had not disappeared, no force could be strong enough to pull them apart, and no deathly fate could be worse than being denied this final goodbye.

It occurs to Jonathan that he should say something. There should be a brilliant send-off to make his death mean something. But just as the men are taking in his death, marvelling at the bravery and strength he accepts his own death with, he cannot help but break the illusion of the courageous soldier with a pitiful “I don’t want to die, Mina.” Shame pierces each man's heart as they remember he's truly only a boy.

There’s no peace in the departing, only two lovers determined to make their last words spoken to one another each other’s names, each desperately clinging to the other until one loses his grip on life and falls silent.

#I'd prefer that no one died but you asked for it!!#ask and ye shall receive #update #people ask me things #dracula #dracula daily #dracula fanfiction #fanfiction #jonathan harker #mina harker #mina murray #jonathan x mina #jonmina #dracula au

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stitching-in-time · 21 days

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Voyager rewatch s1 ep12: Cathexis

Another one I didn't remember at all, this one was quite exciting to watch. Voyager's first 'crew getting possesed by aliens' story, it's another one of those episodes that's pretty much a copy of an earlier Next Generation episode, but it was well done, and very creepy and suspenseful. I like the way they played up the crew's paranoia to add to the tension. And it was the first time we get to see Captain Janeway's Victorian governess holonovel, which is one of my favorite things, and not just because I'm tickled that Captain Janeway shares my taste in literature, but because she looks absolutely gorgeous in period costume. Like, let me fangirl for a moment here, because look at this perfect vision of beauty, oh my god:

I want her whole outfit, it's perfect. Major kudos to the costume designer for giving her an historically accurate dress and hairstyle. As someone who used to do a lot of historical costuming, I'm very nitpicky about those things, but this is a good costume on every level- beautiful design, well fitted to the actress, fits the character's personality, absolutely nothing anachronistic about it anywhere. 10/10, no notes! I need to cosplay this so bad!!

Okay, I'm done being a costume nerd, back to the episode itself: I appeciated that they mentioned the EMH being programmed with knowledge of various cultures traditional healing practices instead of just having him dismiss Chakotay's medicine wheel as superstition. While I have issues with the wheel prop itself not looking very realistic, I do like that they made a point to say that Earth's medical establishment will become more open minded and inclusive in the future. (But the artwork on the wheel looked central or south american, and I'd always thought Chakotay was supposed to be from the north american southwest- it says a lot about how much the writers didn't care about him that after 7 years of episodes, I still have no idea what continent he's even from. sigh.)

Also lol at Tom Paris talking about how when he was a kid he had a doctor that made housecalls- who the heck has that even now, let alone in the 24th century?? I think this was probably where I started to get the headcanon that the Paris family is super rich- like I know that Earth is supposed to be a utopia with no poverty, but I feel like rich people with inherited wealth would keep on living in their fancy houses in their gated communities, and Tom Paris strikes me as being a privileged kid who grew up in a big house with a swimming pool and a tennis court, who spent his youth riding around in his expensive car (or would it be a shuttlecraft?? do rich people have their own shuttles on earth??) and being a slacker/prankster king at his fancy prep school like a 24th century Zack Morris. (I know I read Pathways back when I was a teenager, and it may have mentioned something about his childhood, but I don't remember any of it, and novels aren't technically canon in Star Trek universe, so I'm sticking with my rich kid Tom Paris headcanon.)

More of Neellx being possessive of Kes in this episode, ughhhh.

I didn't remember that they gave background crewmember Lieutenant Durst a pretty prominent supporting role in this episode. Obviously it was meant to make his subsequent death more impactful, but it was anyway, since I still remember him for getting killed off. (I probably don't have to give spoiler warnings for a decades old show, but spoiler: he dies in the very next episode.)

Anyway, tl;dr: a solid alien possession episode.

#star trek: voyager #voyager rewatch #rewatching star trek #cathexis #star trek #captain janeway

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sparkedblaze · 10 months

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morris and oscar’s pa, or any former carer, would often lock morris up when he was being bad or having meltdowns. in a cramped little closet where it was hard to hear him screaming unless you were right up next to it, totally dark, and full of sharp edges for him to hurt himself on as he threw himself around and screamed and begged. oscar always had to go and find him when he noticed him missing, and nobody would ever tell him where mo was, but he soon learned to always rush to that same closet.

a couple of medda’s boys, all those years later when morris and oscar are starting to visit medda again, lock morris in a closet when the opportunity arises. it’s mean-spirited, done because they don’t like oscar nor his brother, but it’s not *cruel*. just a prank. hazing.

they don’t expect morris to freak out as bad as he does.

THE CLOSET ASK

Also this turned into absolutely not just being a prank, but revenge that had gone too far.

T/W: blood, injury, s/h, bullying, panic attack

I think that's all of the t/w needed but please please please read cautiously.

Morris was sitting on the couch on the wall, next to Os, and across from Blink and Mush. The others were scattered around the house. Mike and Ike had gone to one of the back rooms to show Hotshot where they were sleeping, JoJo and Katherine had gone out to get more nail polish, and mama Medda was in the kitchen with Jack and David.

He’d been staring at the couple across from him and his brother. They were huddled together and whispering and laughing. Morris’s ears burned, wondering if they were talking and laughing at him.

The question melted away as his curiosity got enraptured by something else. “Wha’ hap’ned?”

He felt Os nudge him, and looked up to see the shake of his head. “Mo, don’t.”

But it was too late, the other two were already looking at them. Blink with the glare that made most boys quake in their boots, and Mush with an uneasy smile, trying to keep the peace.

“What?” Blink’s voice was deadly quiet, unusually calm, and it raked at Morris’s spine.

Morris’s hand came up to brush his fingers just under his eye, asking again. “Wha’ hap’ned?”

“It ain’t your business wha’ hap’ned,” Blink’s glare hardened, and he crossed his arms. “It don’t matter.”

Morris was silent for only a moment, it was all the time he could keep his curiosity at bay. “Why you gotta wear tha’ thing?”

His hand moved to cover his own eye, mimicking Blink’s eyepatch.

Blink’s brows furrowed further, and Morris watched Mush take his hand and saw his knuckles turn white with how tightly he squeezed.

Blink yanked his hand away from Mush, and stood, storming out of the room. Morris watched, looking back at Mush for an explanation.

The other boy just shrugged, picking at his nails as he stood, going toward the kitchen instead.

Morris looked up at Os, frowning, wondering what he’d done. Os ruffled his hair and sighed. “ ‘S okay, Mo. They ain’t understand you. Nobody do. ‘Cept me.”

About an hour later, Morris was sitting on the floor with Mike, building with the big blocks mama Medda had gotten for them. Os had gone to see if they’d needed any help setting up the tables and everything, had trusted Mike enough to not hurt Morris to leave them alone together.

Red walked in and leaned over the back of the couch. “What’re you two doin’?”

Mike held up one of the blocks, grinning around his chewelry.

Red smiled at him, ruffling Mike’s hair as he turned his attention to Morris. “Hey, Delancey. We gots somethin’ we wan’na show you.”

“Me?” Morris asked, eyes lighting up at the prospect of actually finally being accepted in the house. When Red nodded, he scrambled to his feet.

“Yup, c’mon, ‘s in your room.”

Morris bounced on his toes as he followed Red back to the room he shared with Os, Mike walking silently behind him.

When they made it to the open door, Morris’s excited bouncing and quieted chirps turned to clacking teeth and wringing hands. He stepped inside the room, the only light coming from the glowing stars across the ceiling.

“Wha-” he was interrupted by Red shoving him down. Morris’s hair stood on end as he felt someone move behind him. He flailed, trying to get them away.

Someone heaved him up from beneath his arms, and started dragging him to the other wall. Morris kicked his feet, swung his fists, threw his head back, trying to make the person let him go.

Red grabbed his legs, lifting him the rest of the way off the ground, now carrying him that way.

Morris looked toward the doorway, where Mike had been just a second before. He was gone. He wasn’t going to help Morris. He left him.

“Maybe this’ll teach you to keep them questions to youself,” he heard Blink’s voice in his ear, and he started thrashing harder.

They dumped him on the floor, and the light turned on, making Morris wince and cower back. Red and Blink were above him, grinning.

“It’ll give ya some time to…” Red paused, thinking, and the words made Morris’s stomach churn. “Think ‘bout what you done.”

With that they closed the door, and Morris screamed.

He pounded against the door, threw himself against the wall. He could hear the other two laughing outside. Why was this so funny to them?

Oscar had been helping set up tables outside. It was menial work, something that Medda couldn’t do on her own, so she usually asked Oscar and Jack to do it.

He would go to the glass door between setups, where he could see Morris and Mike sitting in front of the couches and building together. Mike had been silent all day, but Morris never seemed to mind.

He finished setting up the table in his hands, immediately moving back to the door. He frowned when he saw that the pair were no longer building-didn’t seem to be in the room at all. He planned on going inside, to look for them, but Medda asked him to get the chairs.

He looked between her and the door and back again, torn between repaying their debts and going to find his brother.

Medda raised a brow at him. “Oscar? Is everything okay?”

He chewed at the inside of his cheek. He was supposed to be trusting Morris. Supposed to be letting him learn more independence.

He took a shaky breath. “It’s- it’s okay, Medda…”

Oscar tore himself from the door, going to grab stacks of chairs from the side of the yard. He had the stack halfway across the yard when Mike slid the door open.

“Mike, dear, the door,” Medda chided him, frowning when she was ignored entirely. “Miguel?”

Ike perked up at Mike’s name, looking up, finding nothing but panic in his face.

Mike, instead of going to Ike as everyone expected, went to Oscar. He tugged at his shirt and pointed inside and made frustrated grunts when others came up to tell him to calm down.

Oscar watched the way he moved for a second, recognized the agitated bounce in his feet.

“Mike, what happened to Mo?”

Mike just pointed more fervently toward the door, tugging at Oscar’s shirt.

He dropped the stack of chairs and started toward the door.

Oscar broke into a run when the scream rang out.

Morris’s head was pounding, and his arms were aching and screaming at him. His nails were scraping against himself, tearing up skin and opening old wounds. He was rocking, curled up as tightly as he could on the floor against the back wall, teeth clacking together, nails digging into his thighs.

The door swung open, making Morris whimper more, head slamming against the wall he was leaning against. “No, no, ‘m sorry I ain’t meant to-”

He screamed again as the person’s shadow moved over him.

“Momo, hey, ‘s me,” Os’s voice was soft, quiet, gentle. Morris knew it was bad. He knew that Os only talked to him like that when it was really bad.

“Os?” He whimpered, unmoving from his curled position, still scratching at his skin. “I’on know wha’ hap’ned- i’on know wha’ I done.”

“You ain’t done nothin’ Mo. You ain’t done nothin’ to them,” Os held his hands up, asking if he could touch Morris.

Morris dove into Os’s arms, clinging tightly to him as Os lifted him off the floor and out of the closet. He wasn’t watching, but he could hear Blink talking to Mush behind Os.

“-deserved it, Nick! He was makin’ fun of me! Mockin’ me eye an’-”

“So you locked him in a closet?!” Morris pressed closer to Oscar at the loudness of Mush’s voice. “Are you insane?! You lucky it weren’t worse, Lou! God! The kid could’a-”

“He ain’t no kid!”

“Yes he is!” Os shouted over them, holding tighter to Morris, who’s shaking bad enough to move both of them. “He jus’ as much a kid as you is! As Albert. As Racetrack. As Jack fucking Kelly.”

Os practically spat his name out, leaving it at Blink’s feet.

“C’mon, Mo, we’s leavin’,” Os told him, pulling back just far enough to peel his jacket off, wrapping it around Mo’s shoulders. “We goin’ outside to tell Mike an’ Medda bye, an’ we leavin’.”

Morris nodded, clinging tightly to Os as he was led outside, to Medda’s side. He hugged her tight, shying away from her worry over the fresh blood beneath his fingernails.

“Medda,” Os’s voice sounded harsh, angry, the way pa’s used to sound right before Morris would get locked up. “You either get them boys to leas’ see us ‘s people, or we ain’t comin’ back.”

Mike came up, clenching and unclenching his fists in the air, tilting his head in part of his and Morris’s unspoken language. Morris shook his head, and Mike chewed harder at his necklace. He held his hands up, and once again Morris shook his head. Mike deflated, but nodded. He knew what it was like to be overwhelmed, especially after bad stimuli.

Os helped get Morris all the way into the jacket, and brought him to the car, glaring darkly at Blink and Red on the way out, and Morris couldn’t help but wonder.

What had he done to deserve being put in the closet?

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papermonkeyism · 11 months

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wurr questions! beware i am being exceedingly nosy, and also willing to wait for my answers!!

1. within the crater, how common are deepblood females? what happens when such a female is found pregnant, or in heat ( and is heat even a thing among the wurrlings? ) ? if born, would all her children be considered deepblooded for safety's sake, or is that judged on a case-by-case basis?

2. what other canids of the wurrworld are sophonts? i remember mention of african painted dogs in the south. what are relations between them, dogs and wolves like? what are the societal stances on hybrids between those species and dogs? how are those species dogs cannot interbreed with treated?

3. are hounds genetically closer to dogs or wolves, or are they essentially a third species at this point? can even a deepblood mate with dogs/wolves, or is that still unsafe?

4. in your art, how do you distinguish between actual wolves and dogs that just have pointy ears, thick coats and augoti colours?

1: Okay so the definition of a deepblooded is one who's mutations are hard or severe enough that if they had puppies A: they would all be stillborn B: die shortly after birth, probably painfully and/or C: kill the mother at the process of giving birth. That's basically a scale of tragedy from "losing all your babies" to "suicide by breeding". I'm sure you can use your imagination.

Pyramos is deepblooded because of his skeletal deformations that basically made him impossible to be born (he was cut out of his dying mother, and was the only one of his litter to survive). Crippled is deepblooded because of his innards not being functional, including barely functioning digestive system and having two hearts neither of which work properly. His parents technically weren't, on their own, but their personal mutations were too similar and stacked, which made their blood "too deep" when combined, and he's, again, the only survivor. Iacar's aunt Crom is deepblooded because she's physically incapable of getting puppies out of herself.

On the contrast, despite his size and shape, Morri is not considered deepblood because he was born a normal (seven eyed) puppy, who got his growth spurt around puberty, so he's not a case of murder-by-breeding.

2: I prefer not to waste energy and mental resources on worldbuilding something that's never ever going to be even remotely relevant to the plot/story/making of the comic. I want the story to reach its end someday, I don't want to derail it by turning it into an epic of discovering uncontacted continents and political intrigue on the other side of the dang planet when the story happens in relatively limited area that's still basically neolithic. Please, this thing has eaten enough of my life, I don't need to make it a globe spanning monster. Feel free to fanfic, but I, personally, do not have the spoons.

3: Depends on which definition of "species" you're using here. Proto dogs, I guess. They're dogs who got stuck at a place that turns everything living into monsters, but like, wolves aren't that far either. For deepbloods, again, it's death by breeding, do not recommend. No matter how healthy of a guy the dog/wolf would be, aunt Crom still could not squeeze live puppies through her deformed pelvis even if they somehow made it long enough in her twisted innards.

4: I mean, I hope you can see it just by looking at the comic, there is one wolf in it for a while, plus a half-wolf who looks very wolfish by design.

Wolves are wolf-shaped, and I hope I can do good enough job at it for people to tell them apart. I don't make dog characters wolf-shaped. There are internal rules for wolf-markings, that I just don't use for dog characters. If you look at the comic, you might notice I haven't designed a single dog with complete wolf markings (no matter what Grimmon might tell you), and there are extremely few who even have any gradient markings at all, and those are definetely not wolf-shaped. Wolves are also bigger (approx Surama sized) and have wolf eyes (little to no visible sclera), while all Wurr dogs have human eyes. You might also notice the only characters to have visibly drawn inner ear hair are of wolf blood.

But I honestly really hope the art itself is enough without me having to explain aloud the design choices. Kinda feels like I've failed at making them if the only way the readers can tell them apart is if I have to tell them how.

#wurr

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