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brokenjere · 2 years

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seventeen going under (j.f) (ch. 15)

seventeen going under (j.f)

A/N: so this is unedited and it's.......long haha i will probably edit it eventually but i wanted to get it out and i was happy with it so lmk what you think and if you wanna be added to the tag list :)

synopsis: deb ball volleyball tournament and a love confession

catch up here

I told Susannah I didn’t want to play in the volleyball tournament. She was sad, of course. She begged me practically on her hands and knees, pleading with me that “all the debutantes are doing it” and “it would be good to give back” and “don’t you want people to remember you?”

And honestly, no. I didn’t want anyone to remember this night except Susannah. If I could, I’d have dressed up just as nice and put Jeremiah on my arm and waltzed around the living room while she drank wine and clapped like we were little kids again rehearsing for our school musical. If I could, I’d burn this memory out of everyone’s heads.

The volleyball tournament was where I drew the line. I will not be putting on baseball tees that were printed from some shady website with my name on it and I will not be making Jeremiah wear a matching one. I also am not the most athletic of the bunch but that was one of my last excuses. Jeremiah was, of course. I’m sure he would kill a volleyball tournament enough for the both of us but I could not, and would not, risk sand in my mouth in the name of Susannah Fisher. It didn’t matter that it was raising money for good causes. The good cause was saving my knees.

She pouted for a while, asking me over late brunch again and again if I had changed my mind. I kept telling her no until eventually, my mom had to tell her to stop asking. “If you don’t be quiet, she’ll back out of the ball completely,” she threatened one day while we all stood around the kitchen island. I hadn’t threatened that, of course, but at the time Jeremiah hadn’t agreed to be my date so the thought was more than tempting.

After that, Susannah stopped asking. She flaunted Belly’s neon green shirts that read TEAM BELLY on them and Shayla’s highlighter yellow one that read TEAM SHAYLA. Just because Steven had to wear it, didn’t mean I did. I smiled and nodded at her while she showed them off and then I disappeared in the backyard.

I wondered if maybe I should be making more of an effort. Maybe I should have signed up for the tournament and wore an ugly shade of yellow too or maybe I should be spending more time with her while she baked in the kitchen instead of sticking my finger in the wet batter and licking it off like an animal. Despite knowing Susannah is nearing her end, it hasn’t quite hit me the way I think it should have. I think I’ll be living in denial as long as Jeremiah is in the dark. His ignorance is my ignorance.

Despite not participating in the event, I still dragged Jeremiah along with me to watch. He was going to go anyway, to cheer on Belly, but we drove together and grabbed lemonades the size of our heads and sat down on the sidelines. Susannah made an announcement, telling everyone how to donate and the excitement in her voice panged me with guilt and regret.

“She loves these things,” Jeremiah said as he leaned into my shoulder. His mom was beaming on the court. Not even the giant microphone in her face could hide her smile. It was infectious and I’m sure, the reason every event every year was a success.

“Did Conrad have to do this last year?” Jeremiah laughed and nodded his head, remembering. “I wish I had stayed to see it.”

“It wasn’t that eventful. The only reason Mom made him escort Nicole was because her date dropped out last minute and he already knew the waltz.”

Susannah stepped off the court and announced the first team. It was a normal bracket style tournament. Two teams faced off and whoever won moved to the next round. So on and so forth until there were only two teams left. The teams lined up against the fence, watching each game as if they were studying the players. It reminded me of when Conrsd would play chess. How focused he would get on whatever move his opponent would make next.

Jeremiah would stare off aimlessly into the distance, not paying attention to what Conrad or I did and then ask, “what happened?” But Conrad would stare. He’d plot. He’d stick his tongue out in pure concentration.

“I hate sports,” I said out loud, making Jeremiah laugh.

“I know you do.” “I’m just so bad at them. I have zero hand-eye coordination.”

“You throw a pretty mean punch,” he added, throwing a smirk in my direction. I can’t help but turn a shade of crimson. When we were kids, I’d beat on Jeremiah relentlessly. Like a little kid on the playground being mean to their crush. I don’t know if I had a crush on him then but he often stole my cereal in the mornings or the candy out of my lunch box and made me chase him around for it until eventually I’d land a punch on his bicep.

When we were fifteen, I actually punched him. It was an accident but it left a bruised eye on his perfect face. He was hiding behind my bedroom door, presumably waiting for me to come upstairs and scare me. He jumped out so violently and screamed so loud, my only reflex was to punch. Unfortunately for my hand and Jeremiah’s face, my punch landed exactly on his right eye.

I scrambled to collect him off the floor, throwing out apologies as fast as I could. He was just laughing. “Holy shit, Yn. I didn’t know you could hit like that.”

“You scared me!” I defended, holding him up as I walked him to my bed. He cradled his face in his hands and I pried them away so I could see the damage. It wasn’t much now, but it was bright red. The next day it was black and blue and Jeremiah told everyone he ran into a door. “Let me get you some ice,” I offered. Mom didn’t ask any questions as I collected a bag of frozen peas from the freezer and wrapped them in a dish towel. She just eyed me suspiciously as I moved through the kitchen. Upstairs, Jeremiah was still holding his eye.

He let me press the peas to his face but took over the compress once it was comfortable. “I am so sorry,” I repeated.

“Kinda hot,” he teased, bumping his shoulder to mine. How could he be so nonchalant? How could he be acting like I didn’t just assault him in my bedroom? “You could kiss it better?“ He offered when he noticed my face wasn’t relaxing. If I worried for him any harder, I’d develop worry lines at the age of fifteen.

I scowled at his suggestion and he gestured toward my hand. “Let me see it,” he said. I gave him my hand and he inspected my knuckles for signs of bruising. “My face is pretty hard, you know. It’s the Fisher jawline.”

“I didn’t hit you in the jaw,” I reminded him. He shrugged like it was all the same. “You’re gonna have a black eye.”

“You’re gonna have bruised knuckles.”

We stared at each other. Peas held to his face with one hand and my hand in his other. I started to cry and he laughed. He audibly laughed and then because I couldn’t help it, I started to laugh too. The tears dried up almost as soon as they’d arrived and then we were both cracking up on my bed.

“Don’t remind me of that,” I said to him now. He smiled as if it was a fond memory. One he’d kept forever in the confines of his mind. Like a favorite beach trip or school field trip.

“Just saying, don’t count yourself out so soon.”

“Maybe I should take up boxing?” I asked, holding up my fists as if I was going to start fighting him. I shook them around in front of my face and Jeremiah used the palm of his hand to lower my weapons.

“More like MMA. Could knock a sucker out with those.” I smiled, proudly. “Belly and Cam are up,” Jeremiah said, pointing toward the court. I actually paid attention now. Not that I really knew the rules to volleyball, but it was Belly after all and I should at least pretend to know what was going on.

She and Cam move across the court with ease. They speak with their eyes, Belly telling him where to go and he does it automatically. They won. They won again and again until they didn’t.

The fourth game down, after a winning streak that didn’t even break a sweat, the other team was kicking their ass. Cameron was fumbling over his own feet, barely scraping the ball with his knuckles. I was pretty sure he had a mouthful of sand at one point. “What the hell is going on?” Jeremiah asked, I think mostly to himself because it came out as more of a mumble than anything.

“I don’t know.” I felt bad for the kid. Belly was competitive. Especially when she got in the zone like she was now. I could see it in the way her eyebrows furrowed and her cheeks puffed out when she breathed. She was fully prepared to do whatever she could to win.

Across the court, on the other side of all the players, was Conrad and Nicole. They leaned against the rail, both a cup in their hands. They weren’t speaking, just watching the game unfold intently. Belly said something to Cam, pointing to a bench off to the side and then she was waving Conrad over. “What the fuck?” I asked.

“What did she just say?” Jeremiah asked, sitting up further in his seat like he was watching a scary movie that was keeping him on his toes. They were talking to each other. She was pointing and she looked mad but I couldn’t decipher what was being said. Cam took off his neon green t-shirt and gave it to Conrad, who stripped off his own shirt and put on the TEAM BELLY one. Conrad. Always team Belly. “What is going on,” I mumbled.

“Belly is about to win the damn thing,” Jeremiah boasted. He was happy. He was excited. He was proud. “Conrad is going to kick all these kids' asses.”

“He’s not even her escort, is that allowed?” I huffed. I crossed my arms over my chest. It was a defensive move, shielding me from whatever feelings were attacking my chest and whatever questions I was sure were to come.

“Why wouldn’t it be allowed? It’s not an Olympic tournament. It’s for charity,” he said, playfulness in his voice. He was leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and I could see the sweat that was dripping down his neck and under his shirt. I could see his biceps protruding from his sleeves like the shirt was way too small for him.

“I’m just saying, kind of cheating to switch partners halfway through the game.” He turned around to look at me now and I recoiled into the bench. I hid my face with the cup of lemonade and averted my eyes to the court. They were killing it which just made me more mad.

“What’s your problem? Don’t you want her to win?”

“Yeah but why does he need to be a part of it? Poor Cam was just pushed to the side.” I decided to focus on that. Cam. “He’s her boyfriend for crying out loud. I'd never do that to you.”

“Well, I’m not your boyfriend,” he pointed out. He wasn’t even watching the game at this point. I had his full attention. He looked amused, like me picking on Belly was funny. It wasn’t funny and I felt bad even as I was saying it but I was trying to place my angered feelings and I was placing them in the wrong spot. I was mad that Conrad was on Team Belly and not Team Me and I didn’t know why. He wasn’t even who I wanted.

I was selfish. I knew that. It was a trait of mine I had been forced to come to terms with when I was younger and my mom would make me share with other kids on the playground and I would tell them the toys were covered in mold or dead bugs so they’d want to play with someone else’s stuff. I think it stemmed from being an only child. I never had to share or be selfless. I had whatever I wanted whenever I wanted it. I knew it when Jeremiah got his first girlfriend and I was so jealous, I wanted to break them up even though he was perfectly respectful when I was dating Elijah. I wanted all of it to myself. Both boys.

“You could be,” I replied with a knowing smirk. Jeremiah let out a huge laugh. One that threw his body backward and forced his hand to his chest. “What’s so funny?” I asked, offended he would think this was funny.

“Just a few weeks ago you were begging me to stop flirting with you. You said you needed space. And now you’re saying you want to be my girlfriend?” His eyes were shining with admiration, even as he called me out for my inconsistency.

“I didn’t say I wanted to be your girlfriend, I just said you could be my boyfriend,” I clarified. I kicked my feet in the sand a little bit and watched as it covered my toes. “You know, if you wanted.”

“If I wanted?” He was staring at me. I looked up.

“If you wanted.”

Everything went silent. I thought I went deaf for a minute. Lost all ability to hear or feel anything in the outside world except the heat from his knees on mine and the weight of his longing gaze on my face. I didn’t even hear the crowd cheering for Belly and Conrad as they won the game. I didn’t hear them announce the next team. All I heard is Jeremiah saying, “well what if I want to?”

I thought about my response. I could just word vomit everything I was thinking: then you’re my boyfriend. I love you. It’s a done deal, don’t ever leave. Or I could tease him like I usually do but that'd be cruel and unfair. So instead I said: “then we’ll talk later. In private.”

That seemed to satisfy him enough. He sat back on the bench, our arms touching and he inched his hand toward mine. He wanted to hold it and I let him. He laced our fingers together and even though it was hot and our fingers were getting sweaty, we kept holding them the entire time.

The sun was starting to set by the time the last few games were being played. Belly and Conrad had done it - they were in the final bracket. My lemonade was gone, a ring of condensation was stained into the bench only to be dried up by the sun and then arrive again a few moments later. I thought about getting a refill or some water or something to replenish the hydration that was leaving my body with each drop of sweat. Even the shade of the awning that we were sitting under didn’t shield us from the heat but I had gotten up to pee more times than I can count while we waited for this dreaded tournament to be over so I decided against it. But now that the sun was going away, it was getting cooler.

There was an orange hue to the world around us now. A soft glow illuminated Jeremiah’s face as he watched the game intently, smiling to himself as he watched his brother play. I had known these boys my entire life. Since we all in diapers, playing in the same sand box and then cleaning up in the same bath tub. It was strange to see them now, all grown it. It was strange to love both of them with every fiber of my being. It was strange to feel this strongly about the one sitting next to me now. But what’s stranger, was how their relationship developed over the years. From being tight as thieves as kids to now, what seems to me, almost utter strangers.

There was no doubting the jealousy in Jeremiah’s eyes as he watched Conrad play. He couldn’t hide his jealousy from a hundred miles away since the moment he turned fifteen and they were no longer little kids, but young adults waiting to become Adam’s little robots. Since the minute Adam picked Conrad as the golden child, no matter how hard Jeremiah tried. And he tried. And that’s what hurt the most. Watching Conrad get everything Jeremiah wanted so badly: his dad’s approval, football super stardom, and throw it all away.

I reached over and squeezed his hand. He sent me an appreciative grin and I gave it right back, but I could feel the sadness creeping up behind it so I looked away before it could show it’s ugly face. I wanted him, I knew I did, but I also knew that I had to tell him about Susannah before I could be with him. It was only right and seeing how he watched his brother now, with contempt and wistfulness, it pained me to know I was keeping a secret that could bond them again. They needed each other and if Conrad was going to be too stubborn to tell him, I had to.

While the last game raged on, Jeremiah and I eagerly waited by the railing overlooking the court. I leaned into his arm and he welcomed me like a warm blanket. The up and down of his steady breathing kept me sane as I watched the same ball going back and forth and back and forth for the hundredth time today. He looked down at me and said, “it’s almost over. You’re so impatient.”

“I’m just bored,” I said, letting out a groan. I turned over so my back was leaning on the railing and I was giving Jeremiah my full attention. “Besides,” I drag, “we need to talk. Remember?” Jeremiah’s eyes lit up.

“I remember,” he whispered. He leaned forward, his hand on one side of me and his chest dipping almost too close to mine. “Wanna dip early?” A smirk curled up on one side of his mouth and the suggestion was tempting, but I shook my head.

“It’s almost over, remember?”

“I think whatever we’re gonna talk about it is more exciting.” The twinge of amusement and flirtation was undeniable and I wanted to kiss him right then and there. Put my hands on either side of his face, pull him as close as possible and kiss him until I could no longer breathe. Instead, I put my hand on his chest and push him backward slightly.

“Your brother is about to win a volleyball tournament, don’t you wanna watch?” I asked. Cheering exploded from behind me but it had been ongoing all afternoon, so I didn’t bother to even look.

Jeremiah did look. He glanced up over my shoulders and onto the court and mumbled in disbelief, “looks like he just did.”

I whipped around to see Conrad snatch Belly up in his arms and twirl her around. His smile was so big it could eat up the sun. I hadn’t seen him smile that big in months. Susannah made her way down the court, meeting them halfway with the trophy in hand. Jeremiah grabbed my hand and dragged me down to the sand. It kicked up as I walked quickly, trying to keep up with Jeremiah’s big strides. He hugged his brother and Belly was hugging Steven and I stood there, alone. Watching.

It was warm in Jeremiah’s room, despite the dropping temperature outside. I laid on his bed, my feet kicked up on the headboard as Jeremiah rifiled through his drawers. I didn’t even know what he was looking for, only that he had been looking since the second we got back to the house. We had not brought up our conversation from earlier yet. It was like a big balloon in the room that sucked all of the air out of it and neither one of us wanted to pop it and the air any more muggy than it already was.

“What could you possibly be looking for?” I finally asked. He was digging around a bottom drawer now, and groaned as he slammed it shut.

“Something.”

“Obviously.” Jeremiah moved to the closet now and ignored my sarcastic comment. I watched him upside down contently. I watched as his body moved, a perfect specimen waiting for his feathers to be ruffled. He threw out dirty clothes from the floor to the closet to the floor of the bedroom until finally, he dug something out.

“Ah-ha!” He said in victory, rolling back on his heels.

“What is it?” I asked. He stood up and when he turned around, he had a pink stuffed pig in his hands and a smile plastered to his face. I shot up, the world turning right side up. “Is that Porky?” Jeremiah nodded enthusiastically as he threw himself on the bed next to me. I grabbed the stuffed pig from his hands and admired it on my lap. “You still have this?”

When I was a baby, my dad gave me a stuffed pig that I slept with in my crib. When I moved to my toddler bed, so did Porky. I carried him around with me everywhere. He dragged on the floor behind me, trailing along collecting dirt and germs but I didn’t care. He must have went through the wash at least three times a week. So much so, he lost an eye when I was six. I loved Porky more than anything. He was my best friend before Jeremiah was my best friend, really. I told Porky everything. When Mom made me so mad because she said I had to eat my vegetables and how frustrated I was that I couldn’t write my Q’s the right away. I told Porky everything until, eventually, I trusted Jeremiah enough to tell him instead.

When I was ten, I gave Porky to Jeremiah. I set him on this exact bed, almost seven years ago. He was disheveled, even then, with a missing eye and a chunk missing out of his ear and his light pink snot stained a dirty brown color. He was sitting poised in front of the pillows and when Jeremiah saw him he asked me, “what’s he doing here?”

“I want to give him to you,” I told him. “I don’t need him anymore.” Jeremiah gave me a questioning look, like he was unsure what exactly I meant or what he should do with the information given so I explained further, “I already trust you best.”

“What am I going to do with this ratty thing?” He asked, picking up Porky by his chewed up ear with his fingertips.

“As a token of my friendship,” I said to him then. Now, as I looked down at it, I realized it wasn’t just a token of my friendship with Jeremiah, nor was it the beginning of our real, true, best everythingship, it’s the first sign that I loved him. At the age of ten, it wasn’t anything more than platonic but if I gave it to him now, it would have my heart in it.

“As a token of my friendship,” he mimicked my words from all those years ago into my ear. I smiled, feeling my cheeks heat up. “Of course I still have it.”

I held Porky’s hands and made him dance a little on my lap. “I almost forgot about this thing.”

“How could you?” Jeremiah asked, appalled at my confession. I laughed and set him down on the bed beside me. I turned to face Jeremiah now, his body was leaned into mine and he was watching me, his blue eyes staring into my soul. He was no longer smiling, not really anyway. He just looked happy. “Do you still trust me best?”

I nodded and asked, “do you trust me best?”

Jeremiah nodded in reply. He put his hand on my cheek, caressing the side of my face. His thumb felt warm. My entire body felt warm. Wherever his skin touched, mine tingled like he was leaving a million little kisses everywhere. There were stars in my blood. Closer, closer. He was inching closer and I knew what I wanted: him. I knew it with every fiber of my being and instead of following my gut and telling him the truth, I kissed him.

I kissed him with everything that I had in me. His hands grabbed at me like he had been searching for me his entire life and now that he found me, he refused to let go. My hands were in his hair and his hands found their way up the back of my shirt, leaving a warm trail on my skin. I let him lean me back on the bed and he stopped kissing me, only for a moment, to look at me. His eyes were questioning, a quiet question if he should continue or not. “I love you, Jeremiah. I’m in love with you and I’m so sorry it took me so long to say it,” I confessed.

His eyes searched mine frantically. The blue in his eyes were bluer. His eyelashes looked longer. His skin looked smoother. “Finally,” he said and then he kissed me again and this time, he didn’t stop other than to catch his breath or place kisses down my neck. He started with my cheek and then my jawline. I pulled at his shirt, wanting it off in a frantic wanting sort of way. I wanted to be closer to him. As close as possible.

He sucked on my neck gently, making a moan escape from my lips. I pushed him off of me just long enough to take off my shirt and he mirrored my movements without question and when we collided back together, every inch of my skin felt alive.

We were a tornado of emotion, a frenzy of every almost confession, secret emotion, and suppressed feeling either of us have ever had. I put every I love you I have ever thought since I was fifteen years old into kissing him. I let each word linger behind my lips. I wanted to explore his entire body. I knew what he looked like, for the most part. I knew how his muscles moved when he walked, ran, and swam. I could tell you exactly where his birthmark was on his lower back but I wanted to learn it in a new way, in this exciting way.

He wanted to learn mine, first, it seemed. My lips felt swollen when he stopped kissing them but then they were on my collarbone and my chest and between my breast. The bra suddenly felt like an unwelcome barrier between us. One that needed to be removed, immediately. Jeremiah didn’t remove it, though. He moved his hands over my breasts and then to my back, lifting me closer to him.

After his lips met every part of my upper body, he made his way back to my lips but he kissed me slowly this time. Sweetly, like he was savoring every minute of it. Like he was scared it would never happen again. The neediness of only a few seconds ago was replaced with a tenderness that I didn’t know I wanted. His hands moved slower as if he was trying to memorize the way I felt and his kisses were gentler.

He didn’t attempt to take off my pants until I asked him to. I wrapped my hand around his wrist and guided it toward my shorts but he did the rest himself. He unbuttoned them with ease and it made me wonder if he had done this before and with who but that thought quickly evaporated as my shorts hit the floor.

Everything about this felt right. His hands, his lips, the way he was looking at me, and the way that our bodies fit together like a puzzle. It all felt perfect. There was not a single thing about this moment I would change. Not the fact that Porky was digging into my back or the fact that everyone we knew was in this house just below us. All that mattered was Jeremiah, my Jeremiah. And my Jeremiah he would be - forever.

taglist: @things-that-make-sa-happy@marajillana@calpurnia2002@revemixer@harrysswhore@liltimmyst@chickunn-nuggett

#jere x reader #tsitp #conrad fisher #the summer i turned pretty #conrad fisher x reader #jeremiah fisher #tsitp imagine #jeremiah fisher imagine #jeremiah fisher x reader #jeremiah fisher fan fic #conrad fisher imagine #belly conklin #jenny han #reader insert #gavin casalegno #chris briney

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hccn-overseer · 10 months

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I 13, 7/12/2 23 - The seer

Issue Masterpost About the Overseer

Hello, everyone, and welcome to a very special edition of The Overseer. We would like to begin this week by including a trigger warning for kidnapping and very heavy talk of it. Please consider your own health before reading if this is a topic that is sensitive or triggering for you, and take care of yourselves above all. Normal issues resume next Wednesday, so see you then! - Staff of The Overseer

This week’s issue is accompanied by a PDF version created by the lovely C̴͇͆ẖ̶͂e̶̛̬e̶̜͘r̸͇̀! Pick it up here to check it out!

Now onto othe news n the cut!

W̷e̵e̷k̵l̷y̴ ̴W̸e̸a̷t̴h̵e̸r̷ ̵R̴e̵

The Hermitcraft Charity Event!

By Ỉ̸͍l̶̥͋e̶͚͑a̸̮͠ Zei

Well welcome back to The Overseer™!

Today’s talk will be about the Charity event that was held here on Hermitcraft server not long ago and specifically about the games that were built for it.

The games that were built were:

Basalt Assault by non-other than Tango of The Tek variety

Battle Bane by Etho Slab (Ethos Lab)

Bucket Rush by Ex-I-suma-Vojd (Xisuma Void)

Derailed by ImpulseSV (author definitely didn’t laugh alot about the game name.)

Dunk Tank by CubFan one tree five (spelling mistake is for a reason. It’s funny.) (One of the game by him was also Total Chaos!)

Ice Bucket challenge by non other than queen of heads, hearts and body parts! (False Symmetry!)

The Horse course by The married couple (Etho and Bdubs)

And the finally, the last but not the least: Panda Rescue by GTWScarrrr (GoodTimesWithScar!)

Let’s see what some people think of those, shall we? [Quotes taken directly from subjects]

“I dropped my popcorn as soon as Basalt Assault started, and I wasn’t even sad! The game was worth dropping my popcorn tenfold. In fact, I’m gonna go home, make some popcorn, and drop it on the floor in *honour* of the game.”

“I was working in the Entity the day of the event so I couldn’t watch it. But I kept hearing bang after bang outside the window. It was terrifying, but invigorating. It’s impressive how an event can make you excited even if you’re not watching it.”

“I almost pooed myself when the first bang in basalt assault went off – it was bloody terrifying. But a 10/10 show nonetheless.”

“The whole charity event was an absolute blast and it was amazing seeing Hermits and the community come together as a whole to raise money for Gamers Outreach, which was the charity they chose to support! It was absolutely a blast how much was raised all together‼”

“So I will say battle bane because I am an Etho girl and it was great to see it being played.”

“i don’t know why but i got very much into bucket rush, definitely one of the highlights for me. Its hard to describe the feeling but watching was a mix of being extremely funny, extremely stupid, and extremely nerve racking.”

“i have got to say i have a soft spot for horse course, it was such a funny game to watch since No One seemed to know what they were doing. A few of my coworkers and i heard of the racket that was leading to the games, and i had seen the games before they were played, i remember myself along with some other people were crowding around to get a glimpse of the games being played. because of that and the non-stop energy i have got to say watching and experience some games up close has got to be a special experience for me."

Well it certainly seems like people like these games and the Charity event as a whole! I certainly do and I’m glad everyone came around to help with organising and helping the event to happen.

That would be it for now! Join us again in reading next .

ADV RT MEN S

By J̷̺̚a̴̧͝m̷̖͗í̸͕ê̴̠ Uncle Rob (He is now everyone’s uncle)

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If you’re like me and not artistically inclined, then feel free to stop by Painted Wings. They’ll paint your elytra any colour you want! It’s like tattoos but for wings. Don’t you want to spite your parents just a little?

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Are you good at getting plants to cooperate? Cool! I haven’t been able to grow anything since 9th grade biology. If you want to gather at a totally safe space this Friday the Garden Club will be behind Impulse’s shop.

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Do you like the Scar Safety Services? Well, I identify as a threat. Be sure to call your local Scar UNSAFE Service office to get your base fixed up and ready for any type of visitor.

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G̸͙̓ă̵̞m̴̖̔è̷̤ŝ̵̳ ̵̭̂à̷̖n̴͎͛d̸͓̉ Fun and Games

By Kidnapper (Fizzello)

What's a better way to appreciate our many contributors this week, by making a word search using their names! The goal is to find all the names at the bottom of the word search. And if you see any "questionable" words in there; do what anyone would do. Ignore it! You can't see them if you don't acknowledge them.

Good luck, fellow citizens!

Did you find all of them? Congratulations! Did you not find all of them? There's always next time! Did you find some words you probably shouldn't have? No you didn't!

Anyway, onto the answer key!

Wow, that's a bunch of names! And no other words. If you see anything circled that is not one of the names; ignore it! Those are errors that were not able to be filtered out in time for this week's paper. And nothing else!

Nothing else.

Weekly Weather Report

By Nes

Due to unforeseen circumstances we are unable to report the weather how we typically do, however you’ll be pleased to know this week we here at The Overseer offer you an indepth look on the weather in a basement!

Thursday - Basement is expected to be damp in the morning, dew is likely to seep through the cracks in the ceiling. Hopes are high it will dry up during the day so we don’t soil our socks… again. High is estimated to be a cool 5C down here thanks to the air conditioner we were so kindly provided.

Friday - It continues to be damp in the basement, luckily today there appears to be minimal leakage from the upper floors. However the air conditioner is either broken or has been unplugged, leaving us at a miserable 20C temperature throughout the day.

Saturday - As the days pass I would like to humbly suggest that whoever kidnapped us get someone down here to look at their basement, as there is a lot of leakage due to the rain today. With a high of 17C, we are in dire need of more buckets.

Sunday - Rain continues into the morning and fills the basement to about waist level for most of us. Good news is the air conditioner is back on and gives us a lovely breeze and a high of 10C.

Monday - False alarm, air conditioner was broken by the flooding. While the rain has stopped, what replaced it isn’t much better. It’s rather dry in the basement if you ignore the flood, and we have a high of 30C.

Tuesday - Flood is mostly gone today thanks to the work of everyone tossing buckets out the small window we have. Sun appears to be out, the conditioner continues to be broken, and it is a high of 34C, hopefully that will help dry off our clothes.

Wednesday - It did not help dry off our clothes. Instead they smell rather musty, no one is amused. Air conditioner continues to be broken, skies continue to be clear, and we have a high of 40C today. 0/10 would not recommend staying in the basement.

Editor's Note: Found these scraps of paper lying in my office along with the other articles. Not sure if I'm supposed to print these too but at this point I'm too afraid to ask. At the back of one piece of paper it says 'Astrology Corner'

And that's all for this week's news folks! Thank you for reading and have a wonderful week!

#tw kidnapping #tw kidnap mention #issue #hermitcitizen #hccn fun and games #hccn advertisements #hccn weather #hccn astrology corner

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choliosus · 1 month

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Happy one year to the QSMP!!!!

There’s a lot going on with the server right now that is being sorted out, but I just want to share my appreciation for every part of this project.

This server means so much to me. I used to watch DSMP and it will always hold a special place in my heart, but as anything does, it ended. It was already dwindling out but I think the thing that really did it was technoblade passing. And I’m gonna be honest I’m still not over that. I watched him more than any other creator, he means so much to me. The time in between his death and the start of the qsmp was especially sad. I was just missing a lot. Him, the server he played on, that community, etc.

I wanted to engage with the content from the people that he played with, but it was hard. Every update about him, such as technodad streaming, dream making the song about him, was a lot emotionally.

Also not to mention I was sooo hyperfixating on both him and the dream smp as a whole. So it left a big void in my life. I wanted to be wholeheartedly invested in something again.

Around the beginning of 2023, I started watching old Quackity vods and that became my new comfort thing. Just the silly ones where he was watching soap operas and stuff.

Then not so long after I had started doing that, he announced the QSMP. I cannot describe to you my excitement. That week or so before it started I was just so excited. And before that lmaoooo I was not thriving. School was crazy busy, I cut my own bangs and it looked terrible, and that pretty much exemplifies where I was at.

I remember switching to slimecicle’s perspective at some point during the first stream and I followed him, fit, roier, and Mariana as they went mining and were very silly. I smiled the whole time. And then, I watched more the next day, and the next day.

I had forgotten what it felt like to be a part of something that was actively taking place. It had been a while since that was how the dream smp was. I would go weeks or months without any updates, and I would just be by myself reading fanfics.

It felt really fucking good to be able to enjoy something new. Not to replace what I had before, but to start a new adventure. That’s what it feels like to me.

There was a lot to keep up with at first and luckily I had social media to sum things up for me.

Fast forward and the Brazilian members join, then the French. Each time I was a little hesitant to accept them with open arms into my mind palace but it wasn’t very long until I couldn’t imagine the server without them.

And from day 1 I was so impressed with the planning and story of the server, forcing people to stay interested. That’s something the dream smp didn’t have. I honestly don’t think I would need any of the events to have a good time, but oh my god do they make it so fun.

And the animatics???? Hello?????? I love it so much.

Now I’ve learned to accept any new members immediately. Korean members join? TIME TO DRAW THEM!

Quackity started this project with a clear vision. It is so clearly a huge passion project for him. I don’t doubt for a second that it will keep going no matter what happens.

This server has exposed me to so many creators I would never have even heard of and that’s the point. I only speak English. Without this server, I would not know half of my current silly little blorbos.

I can’t believe how creative and funny Roier is. I think about Cellbit Bagi’s lore all the time. I find myself saying “I am the best!” After Etoiles. I’ve tried to absorb as much of the fuga impossivel lore as I can. I adore Baghera’s chaos. Even some of the English speaking people I didn’t really watch that much, like jaiden, fit, even slimecicle, who I now watch probably more than anyone else.

The other day, I watched the stream of cellbit and roier playing hospital 666. In Spanish!! I don’t speak Spanish!!! I only understood about half of what they’re saying and I’m sure that half is because of QSMP. That’s incredible. This is something so much bigger than any one of us.

QSMP has given me so many people to start watching and drawing/writing/thinking about. It has given me hours upon hours of laughing and smiling. It has given me a new hyperfixation to occupy my thoughts before bed.

It means so much to me. Ever since it started, I’ve been so much happier. I could never have imagined something like this would come around. Honestly, there is not anything like this. It is the first of its kind, hopefully not the last 👀

A year went by fast. And I’m so glad to have been here since the beginning. But even then, new people join this community all the time. That’s so cool. This server has in just a year added so many more content creators, and by extension, fans. It’s insane.

And I am so, so excited for what the future will bring us 😊

#qsmp #qsmp thoughts #QSMP anniversary #QSMP 1 year #happy birthday QSMP #qsmp appreciation #thank you quackity

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pastanest · 1 year

Text

A/N: you’re wondering why I’m having to repost this, or why you were perhaps previously following me but no longer are, please refer to this post. I was able to retrieve this thanks to @bakedcrispss - thanks so much!! ♡

Daryl Dixon x she/her!reader

spoilers: set in season 5

Night To Remember

The knock at the door sent everyone into full alert, with Daryl immediately standing up and beginning to pace the same single step back and forth, making sure to continually shield you in some way. When Rick opened the door, however, it turned out to only be Deanna, and the room packed tightly with your family began to relax, at least a little. You gently took ahold of Daryl’s arm and tugged him to sit back down beside you, and he complied, but he still felt very tense beside you. The tension amongst all of you in this new place was definitely going to stick around for a while, and that’s putting it lightly. After Terminus...you shuddered at the thought, and Daryl’s eyes focussed on you instinctively, studying you as you shook the thoughts he couldnt read from inside your head and fixed your gaze on the darkness beyond the window that was on the other side of you. Looking out there meant that you could shield Daryl, too, but not from a threat of some kind, just from the sadness in your eyes.

“And Im just trying to figure Mr Dixon out, but I will.” His name passing from Deanna’s lips caught your attention, and you turned to look at her, causing her to smile.

“I can tell that (Y/N) would offer to partner up with Daryl no matter what job I offer him, though.” She teased, and you gave her a small, but genuine, smile. That was all you could manage before you drifted back to the view of the darkness.

Deanna’s next words brought your head snapping back around again to stare at her again.

“Tomorrow night, Im hosting a welcome for all of you, in my home. I would very much like as many of you to be there as possible.” She looked up at Rick as she spoke, but you couldnt help blurting out your question.

“A party?” You asked, feeling Daryl’s confused scowl burning into the side of your face.

Deanna smiled, her eyes twinkling with excitement at the enthusiasm she could sense radiating from you. “Yes, a party.”

You blinked rapidly, feeling something in you that had been absent for so long it was unfamiliar, before you could manage an answer. “I’ll be there.”

Deanna nodded at you, clearly very pleased at you not only choosing to speak to her, but also the fact you werent afraid to voice your own commitment to the event in front of your far more reluctant family.

The conversation between Rick and Deanna soon ended, you barely even registered the sound of the front door closing behind her because you were so lost in your own thoughts. A few seconds passed, and then Daryl couldnt wait for you to voice your explanation on your own, he had to ask.

“Ya lookin’ forward to the party?” He questioned, very obviously bewildered by what had just happened.

Something flashed in your eyes then, Daryl could only see a flicker of it because you were looking down at your legs, but then you smiled and turned to him.

“Y’know what...I am.” You said, and the sincerity in your voice stunned him, he didnt know what else to say, so he just hummed.

Those events played on repeat in Daryl’s mind for the entirety of the following day.

Just like on the outside, you stuck by him, so Daryl had umpteenth moments to ask you about it, but he didnt. He couldnt. He was scared that if he voiced it then the fragile, light smile on your face would disappear. He thought he had seen all of your smiles, but apparently there was an especially rare one that had stayed locked away. Daryl couldnt tell whether it was selfish to not want to ruin that sight, or if he was sacrificing his curiosity to preserve whatever this newfound joy was in you. All he knew was that seeing you sitting on the opposite side of the porch, picking through the small pile of flowers you’d gathered to make a chain, it was easily the most perfect thing he had ever witnessed. There was something about you; you were like a deer. Beautiful and undisturbed, distracted and safe enough to do something as meaningless as making a flower chain, simply because you could. So, Daryl stayed quiet, you stayed smiling, and he couldnt have thought of a complaint even if he tried, which he didnt even consider.

A little while ago, Maggie came and found you and dragged you off the porch to get ready for the party, and that small smile blossomed into the most gorgeous, beaming grin. Daryl stayed sat on the porch, staring up at you in wonder, like you were a scene in a movie, a scene of normality that in the world before would have made him scoff and turn the television off; for some reason, when it was you that was smiling like that over the simple act of getting ready for a party...it was the closest thing to a spiritual experience that Daryl had ever witnessed while sober.

Your smile turned to him, and he felt the air in his lungs escape in the quietest gasp imaginable. He waved you off, giving a small smile to encourage you to go, and you squealed. You squealed! If you didnt have Daryl wrapped around your little finger before, you sure as hell did now.

While you were gone, Daryl reminded himself that he had already decided he was not attending the party. No matter what happened, he was not going, he could not imagine anything worse than a party. Forced social interaction with naive strangers in a confined space where he was obligated to stay until everyone formed a hive mind and made the decision to leave? That was the end of Daryl’s world, plain and simple. No amount of alcohol in that scenario would make it any better, not even moonshine.

You’re gone for so long that Daryl starts to wonder what he’s waiting for. There is no reason for you to come back and see him before the party, you know without asking that he wont want to go, and you could have quite easily arrived at the event alongside Maggie. Daryl stands up from the porch, deciding that he’s going to go for a walk. Maybe he’ll stroll past Deanna’s house, see if he can spot you as he casually passes the windows, just to make sure you got there alright. Maybe he wont. Or maybe he’ll tell himself he isnt going to do that when he knows he’s going to.

Just as he jogs down the steps, Daryl hears the sound of heels clicking down the street, and when he turns to face the sound, he very nearly passes out. Your hair is the same as it had been when you’d been sitting on the porch with him earlier, it was the way you liked it. In this world, makeup was hard to come by, so your face is as bare as had been earlier, too. The slinky red dress that hugs your figure perfectly, though, that is new, that is something Daryl has never seen, and he wonders how you can still look so much like you when dressed in a way that he didnt think would suit you. But then you smile, and everything clicks. Daryl had never considered that you would look comfortable in a dress like that, he didnt think it was your style, you had never mentioned that it was - but why would you? What would be the purpose of a dress like this in the world today? What would be the point in bringing it up in conversation, when so many other details of the world before were so much more deserving of remising? This, it wasnt an extremely important, sentimental thing, it wasnt vital to know in order to know you. But it was a small part of you that had previously been reserved entirely to the world before, and now Daryl has the privilege of witnessing it.

Quite suddenly, he becomes aware of just how long he has spent staring at you without saying a word. Chuckling, you look down at the ground shyly, holding your forearm with your other hand.

“I was just coming by to see if you were planning to go to the party tonight...” You say, your voice dancing through the night air like the most euphoric song he has ever heard.

“Dunno.” Daryl replies gruffly, and you nod, but your smile falters ever so slightly.

“It isnt really your scene, I get that. You dont have to come if it makes you uncomfortable. But if you do decide to go, it’d be nice to steal you for a dance...” And then your smile is back, you’re glancing over your shoulder at Maggie and Glenn as they jog down the street towards you.

Maggie loops her arm through yours, Glenn hyping the two of you up hilariously as you make your way to the party, leaving Daryl lost in a way that no amount of tracking experience can help him escape.

Not knowing what else to do, Daryl speeds inside the house that the group had spent the previous night in. He paces from the kitchen to the living room, biting his thumb as his mind spins.

“I aint goin’ to no damn party.” He mutters to himself, trying to reassure the thoughts that are swarming him.

Feeling claustrophobic all of a sudden, Daryl storms back outside to get some air, hoping that the outdoors will allow him some clarity, some space to think. Unfortunately for him, the space to think presents him with the image of you in that dress that is now imprinted on his brain for as long as its working. Daryl stands in the middle of the street, glancing down in the direction of Deanna’s house. The memory of that smile returns to him, and Daryl shakes his head.

“Fuck it.”

The mental image of you blinds him, blocks out any other thought, until he arrives at the party. By the time Daryl is able to think for himself again, Rick has already seen him, and it’s too late for him to discretely sneak back out. Rick approaches Daryl, drink in hand, and he picks up another one for his friend as he nears him. Daryl takes it with an appreciative nod, and then his eyes are scanning the room. Every other face blends into the background, clearing a visual path to you as you stand by the record player, flicking through a box of vinyls with a focussed expression.

When your eyes light up at the sight of a particular vinyl, Daryl braces himself. He has no idea what song you’re going to pick, yours and his taste in music is another conversation topic that seemed too pointless to ever bring up. In the world before, things like your taste in music would have been a bonding point, a vital factor in knowledge about anyone you call a friend, but those things dont matter anymore. Daryl knows your soul, so even if your taste in music is the polar opposite to his, it wont change a damn thing.

The second Dancing Queen by ABBA starts to play, Daryl cant help smiling as he tips his glass of whiskey to his lips. Of course, what else? You close your eyes, smiling and swaying to the music for a little while, but then you’re turning and miming the lyrics. Following your gaze, Daryl spots Maggie on the opposite side of the room, miming the lyrics back at you, and the two of you approach each other, beginning a dramatic dance in the sea of people that are just standing around and talking.

It doesnt take long for Maggie to pull Glenn to the dance floor that you have crated, and when you search for your own dance partner, your eyes find Abraham. Initially, Daryl cant help feeling slightly jealous, but when he sees how over dramatically you serenade Abraham, that jealousy fades into a low laugh.

“See that girl, watch that scene, diggin’ the dancing queen!” You mime up at the ginger giant, and he smiles, batting his eyelashes and letting you very awkwardly twirl him as though you were leading a formal dance, causing the two of you to burst into fits of laughter.

Towards the end of the song, you happen to glance around the room, and finally, you meet Daryl’s gaze. Your eyes widen in shock, which quickly transforms into excitement as you make your way through the crowd to reach him. Rick pats your shoulder and laughs as he walks back over to the others, leaving you to talk with Daryl.

“Im so glad you’re here! I wasnt planning to drink unless you came, ‘cause even if you were drunk yourself, there’s nobody I’d feel safer around. Oh! I know exactly what song to play now! Wait here!” Your words are rushed, and before he can reply you’ve run back over to the box of vinyls.

Daryl finds himself thankful for your brief greeting, because he’s absolutely positive that seeing you with rosy cheeks would render him incapable of forming a sentence.

The song you choose next, Daryl recognises instantly. Summer Of ‘69 by Bryan Adams, a classic, and one that he’s somewhat surprised you picked after a song like Dancing Queen. Feeling himself drift back to his teenage years listening to this song, Daryl starts subconsciously nodding in time with the beat, but then he feels a pair of eyes on him and he’s brought back to the present. When he sees you on the other side of the room, miming the lyrics at him, Daryl realises that there’s nowhere he’d rather be.

“When I look back now, that summer seemed to last forever, and if I had the choice, yeah, I’d always wanna be there - those were the best days of my life!”

Daryl glances around, feeling like the population of the room is staring because you’ve cleared a path to him that is naturally drawing attention to whatever you are now doing. But you’re walking closer, and Daryl has another moment of sudden ‘fuck it’ clarity, downing his drink and discarding the glass on a table nearby. Discarding his nerves and general social ineptitude, he focusses his mind on the fact that this is possibly the only time he’ll ever experience something like this with you, and he’ll be damned if he’s going to waste it. So when you start dramatically air-drumming along with the song, Daryl joins in. He doesnt know whether it’s the alcohol already effecting him, or whether it’s the magic of you, but even with the entire room looking at him, he feels completely at ease.

“Standin’ on your momma’s porch, you told me that you’d wait forever. Oh, and when you held my hand...”

Now standing close enough to Daryl, you hold your hand out to him, and his constantly overthinking mind is sent into a state of peace he has never known, because his hand is in yours.

“...I knew that it was now or never. Those were the best days of my life!”

Thinking back to your dance with Abraham earlier, and assessing his current wondrous situation of holding your hands, Daryl doesnt waste a second to spin you out and back into his arms. By no means is it the slow dance that he hopes to do with you someday, but he cant help wondering whether it’s even better.

Until tonight, Daryl had never known that you were the life and soul of the party, that you enjoyed dressing up and dancing with your friends. A side of you that he had never known is right in front of him, and Daryl is utterly amazed that despite having never known these aspects of you, he was head over heels for you regardless. You are caring, kind, a good fighter, and an even better friend. The things he knew about you likely didnt exist in the world before, so the people that knew you then wouldnt know the things he does about you, but tonight he has been given the pleasure of catching a glimpse of something that was brand new to him, but seemed ancient to you. In a world that is so dark, you being the ray of sunshine that you are changes everything, and Daryl can see now that even when the world was so much brighter, you brought the same joy wherever you went.

“And now the times are changin’, look at everything that’s come and gone.”

You turn back around and hold Daryl’s hands, smiling up at him to mime the next lyrics. It‘s like you’re taking them and somehow applying them perfectly to this moment, and everything that this group has lost. Everything led to this, to the two of you dancing together, and anything could happen after this, but it wont change what’s going on now.

“Standin’ on your momma’s porch, you told me that it’d last forever. Oh, and when you held my hand, I knew that it was now or never - those were the best days of my life!”

You squeeze his hands, beaming up at him with tears shining in your eyes, but they were happy tears. Happier than the ones you cried when you held Judith for the first time and remembered what it was like to hold a baby. Happier tears than he had ever seen, and the fact they didnt escape your eyes somehow emphasised the emotional weight of them. They didnt need to be cried.

As the song finishes, the people around you applaud, everyone laughing as Maggie and Glenn cheer and whistle for the two of you. Shaking your heads, you make your way back over to your family. The rest of the night is spent venturing back and forth between conversations with your friends and the irresistible pull to the dance floor. But no matter where you are, one of your hands stays in Daryl’s.

By the time everyone has reached their social interaction quota for the day, it is pitch black outside, and the night is cold when you and Daryl step into it. The alcohol in your systems warms you both considerably, and you giggle about nothing at all as you stumble down the street together. You let go of Daryl’s hand to dance ahead of him, for a few seconds you even act like you’re walking on an invisible tightrope as you hop on and off the curb, singing away to yourself.

“In this world we're just beginning to understand the miracle of living. Baby, I was afraid before, but I'm not afraid anymore.” The spirit of Belinda Carlisle grabs ahold of you, and you jump off the curb dramatically, breaking into the chorus. “Ooh, baby, do you know what that's worth? Ooh, heaven is a place on earth! They say in heaven love comes first, we’ll make heaven a place on earth!”

In a state of blissful, drunk bewilderment, Daryl watches you dance back over to his side and slip your hand back into his.

Silence is a distant memory as you walk beside him, humming the rest of the song to yourself, neither of you feeling the need to say anything. That could very well be the fault of the alcohol, but that hardly matters now. You finish the song in your own time, and the silence that starts to set in is clearly not something you want, because that’s when you decide to speak up.

“Y’know what we didnt get to do tonight?” You ask, glancing up at Daryl with dreamy eyes.

“What?” He enquires, staring down at you in drunken wonder.

“Slow dance!” You cheer, throwing your arms - and therefore one of Daryl’s hands - into the air.

He shakes his head. “I aint no good at that.”

But at his shy objections, you simply roll your eyes. “Of course you are!”

Moving to stand in front of him, you prevent Daryl from taking another step down the street, and you move the hand you’re holding so that he can hold your waist, before doing the same to his other hand. Daryl is tense for a moment, but as you wrap your arms around his neck and rest your head against his chest, he suddenly feels like the strongest man on the planet.

The two of you start to sway, but for the first time since entering the party, there’s no music being provided by you or a record player. Your only company is the stars above, and the people of Alexandria who are walking past you on their journeys back to their homes. Daryl cant help noticing the way they turn their heads in your direction, the way their gazes linger. He scowls.

“Everyone’s starin’ at you.” Daryl says to you, so quiet he’s almost whispering, but it’s almost impossible for a voice as gruff as his to do that.

“Maybe they’re staring at you?”

Daryl finds it endearing that you would even entertain that thought enough to vocalise it, but he knows the truth, and it causes him to shake his head.

“Naw.”

So, you offer up an alternative. “Maybe they’re jealous of you.”

Daryl is quiet for a moment, his drunken mind struggling to process your words. Had he been sober, he’s sure he wouldnt have even answered you, but the alcohol in his system is encouraging previously unspoken thoughts to reach your ears.

“You aint mine, I aint no threat to ‘em.”

Ever so slowly, you pull away from Daryl. Not enough to leave his warm embrace, but enough to look up at him with the stars reflecting in your eyes. You smile, a smile that he recognises, one that he has only ever seen directed at him. And it is without a doubt his favourite smile on any person he has ever seen.

The world moves in slow motion, then. Your hands unclasp from the back of Daryl’s neck, one of them carefully sliding down his shirt to rest over his pounding heart, but your other hand ventured to tuck some of his hair behind his ear, then caressing his stubbled cheek as it also travels down to rest on the other side of his chest.

“Oh, Daryl, I think they should be terrified of you.”

Unlike his, your voice can whisper, and it wakes butterflies that you had been the first one to bring to life within him. Rising to your tiptoes, you close your eyes, and the hold you have over Daryl makes him close his eyes too. The people passing by disappear, as does the street they walk on. All that’s left is the two of you under a starlit sky. The instant your lips meet his, you create an entire world for him behind his closed eyes. A blinding light that somehow plays a split second reel of every memory spent with you, every smile of yours that he has ever cherished, every time you have had his back or he’s seen you have someone else’s, every occasion that you have made him fall in love with you all over again. But none of them even come close to this.

The kiss is brief, lasting maybe two seconds, and you once again introduce Daryl to something new. He had no idea that he could live an eternity of euphoria in just two seconds. Those rosy cheeks return on either side of that beaming smile, the perfect combination of the one you reserve for him and the one from the world before.

Without a word, you step away from Daryl, intertwining your fingers with his and continuing your casual, stumbling stroll through the night and back to the house.

He doesnt know if the small smile that you brought to his face will ever leave again, but he knows that even if it cant be seen, his heart will always remember this.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x reader #imagine #imagines #x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #headcannon #headcannons

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wrenreid · 2 years

Text

Conflict of Interest

mature content in this story

Chapter Eighteen: Memories and Longing

It’s well into the next day when you finally text Spencer back. You would like to say that you forgot, but you didn’t. His simple text message lives rent free in your mind for the entire 19 hours it takes you to respond.

Sorry it’s been a minute. I’ve been so busy! You type up this excuse, but it isn’t true, so you don’t send it. You haven’t been busy at all today. All you’ve done is watch t.v. with your brothers and take Dad out for lunch. Other than those thrilling events, you’ve been in bed.

This bed holds a lot of memories, but not ones you would think. You would stay up late under the covers with a little flashlight and read. You would lie here and gaze up at the ceiling, playing out your future in your head. It’s safe to say the scenarios were not accurate to the now present.

These sheets and pillowcases have caught a gallon of your tears. The earliest memory you hold of your tears spilling down onto the pillow beneath you is the night your parents told you about the divorce.

Quinton was the only of the 4 of you who had already known, granted he’s the oldest at 17. But you were only 7 and your other brothers 10 and 13, so your parents decided to break the news over dinner. Your mother cooked a family favorite meal and even bought a pie.

The dinner was great until it wasn’t, until you found out your parents weren’t going to share a last name any longer and your mother was moving out. Sure, maybe it was only 20 minutes from your house, but that’s a light year for a 7 year old who feels like she’s losing her mother.

You had been silent for the rest of dessert and whole night until you laid down for bed. The tears started flowing. You were sad and angry. Angry that your parents couldn’t love each other anymore even for the sake of their 4 kids. Now, you understand the separation was the best option.

There were other instances where the cotton below you had to absorb the salty tears from your eyes. Like when you were 13 and your best friend moved away to Louisiana because she was a military brat, and her father was stationed there.

Or when you found out your boyfriend of 4 months slept with Jasmine Bailey, a senior girl who you’d never spoken to but had a reputation. She was beautiful and a woman, and you were just barely 15 with braces, still wearing A cups, and refused to go past first base. Of course he had chosen her over you, you thought as you cried and yelled as your face buried into a pillow.

This bed also held the memory of when you found out you got into the FBI Academy and jumped up and down on the mattress like a little girl.

‘Yeah, I am. Are you?’ You finally respond to Spencer’s text from the previous night.

You’re not even really sure why it took you as long as it did to respond. Maybe because you wanted to distance yourself from him a little bit. Distance may help the feelings go away. But then again, as the saying goes, distance brings fondness, so the plan is flawed.

It doesn’t take him long to respond, only about half an hour. ‘I am too, yeah. I’m going to a party with my friend Morgan.’

‘In DC?’

‘Yep. I think it’ll be fun.’

‘I’m sure it will be.’ You text back and feel a sting in your stomach at the thought of him being in a party with girls in skimpy dresses and seductive smiles they’ll flash at anyone.

‘What are your plans?’

I’m not sure. I’ll probably just hang out with my family and watch the ball drop.

You press down on the back space until the words are gone, then you send: ‘Going to a party too. San Francisco on New Years can get wild;)’

‘I hope you have fun!’

‘I will.’

The bad thing about texting is that you can’t read people’s emotions unless they use emojis to show it. Spencer does not use emojis. Is he jealous? Is he excited for you? Or does he just not care?

You’d have every right to sleep with someone at a wild San Francisco New Year’s Eve party because he isn’t your boyfriend. But you aren’t going to.

He would have every right to sleep with some skank- some woman- at a party in DC because you’re not his girlfriend. And he may very well do it.

The thought of him inside another woman makes you want to scream. She’d be lucky because not only is he great at making a woman feel good, he’s also the sweetest guy in the world.

Maybe being underneath another man would take your mind off him. Or maybe it would remind you of how you miss him.

Ugh this is stupid!

chapter nineteen

i’m so sorry it’s been so long!!! also i promise this is the last chapter without spencer, i know that annoys some of you

tags: @reidsmilf @reidslovely @awhoreforspencerreid @sexualityisajoke @nomajdetective @kenreadsfanfics @assemblemotherfuckers @calicocatty @hotchandspencearedilfs @kodiakwhiskey @rory-cakes @kbakery @reidsprettygirl <3

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #mgg x you #spencer reid #spencer reid angst #spencer reid smut #mgg angst #mgg fic #spencer reid and reader

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selfproclaimedunicorn · 10 months

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Chapter seven was so cool, I think I’ve said this before on AO3 but the amount of detail you put into this story is unreal. (I mean, I don’t even have the patience to explain the rules of the simplest games like UNO and here you are inventing super detailed games and characters for the kids in your fic to play with. It’s so atmospheric and engaging I just wanna get under a warm blanket with some hot chocolate and read it slowly while it’s raining.

This chapter in particular was so warming because we follow Rhaella’s hopes of her family finally being reunited for good and despite knowing how selfish Daemon is and the improbability of that happening I still felt so heartbroken with her at the end of the chapter where she realized that’s not going to happen.

Reading this fic I always want Ella to see her father for who he truly is and at the same time I don’t want her to find out the truth. Poor girl.

Baby Aemon is so sweet (despite the circumstances under which he was conceived making me see red) and now the thing about the three heads of the dragon coming to bite Daemon in the ass makes a lot more sense. Can’t wait for that to happen.

Every time Daemon hints at the twins marrying each other I want to pull out his hair. Also I noticed him bringing up the fact that he now has two sons to Viserys multiple times so I wonder what he’s trying to achieve with that. I think Viserys is going to suggest Rhaenyra marrying Yorick…

I’m generally soooo excited to see what will happen when the fic reaches the time of episode 1. but also want the twins to stay children for a little while longer because you write kids really well.

You are picking up so much of what I'm putting down & also so nice omg???? Legitimately giggling like a loon reading this, my cat looked so concerned at the outburst.

And yeah, honestly those are my feelings on Ella too. I am foaming at the mouth for when she realizes her dad sucks, but also it's gonna be so sad & I know it will break my poor daughter's heart. The pitfalls of trying to brute force your way into being a daddy's girl when your dad is a died in the wool misogynist.

There's only one more chapter before we get to the events of season one (small preview of the final Event before the show: Borros is getting married). I'm both looking forward to this and dreading this, because it'll be cool but also it will hurt.

BTW, feel free to join me in bonking Daemon each time he's an incest freak about his two oldest kids

#asks #fic: sins of the father #also i cant wait for when we get to Aemon being a little older #my gigantic goth king 💕

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callofdooty · 1 year

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5-4-3-2-1 Tag Game!!

Tagged by @alidravana ! Thank you so much for the tag! :D

top 5 works i’m proudest of (not in any particular order):

Since I only have two actual works, I'll just put them both LOL:

Just Us - Keegan and Merrick havea moment after the events of the game

My Bed Is A Pool And The Walls Are On Fire - Keegan being delirious for 1000 Words

top 4 current wips i’m excited about:

Mostly all Whumpuary works since they've got my full attention rn LOL

Woken Up Like An Animal - Fill for the prompt Nightmares. Logan makes friends with Mouse after he accidentally kicks her across a room. Title is a line from Human by Daughter (aka one of the best Logan songs to exist LOL)

Keegan's Hypothermia fic - Prompt fill for Hypothermia and "Stay With Me" - Trying to play into the found family as much as I can because I am a SUCKER for it) Pending title ^^

My Heroes Are Dead (They Died In My Head) - Prompt fill for Betrayal. Bitter stream of consciousness, takes place after Struck Down, from Keegan's perspective (but Ajax's fate will be left ambiguous so he might be dead, might be canon divergence that lets him live) Title is a line from Diluted by Slipknot

I Won't Give Up On You (So Don't Give Up On Me) - Prompt fill for "Don't Do This" and Blurry Vision. Not entirely sure what this will entail but it will probably center around Hesh and Logan :) I love :) Angst :) I'm just hella into the title and the prompts as a combination. Title is a line from The Sadness Will Never End by Bring Me The Horizon

top 3 improvements in my writing:

Actually rewriting drafts. A lot of the time, I don't typically rewrite drafts, but for some of the Ghosts ficxs, I've actually got multiple different versions of fics LOL

Uhh I'd say I've definitely developed a stylised way of writing? Which, is actually pretty much just the way I write normally AHA - a lot pauses in strange places, and of course the angsty internal monologuing. I also like messing with structure when I can (Unfortunate House of Leaves simp over here)

Catching when my tenses slip. I don't know why, it might be due to roleplaying, but I find that I often flip between past and present tense in the middle of writing (where it wouldn't make sense to) But I've been able to catch it, lately. Makes editing fics a bitch LOL

top 2 writing resolutions:

Just posting more honestly. Last fandom I wrote fics for got a grand total of three fics because I didn't get to finish the others LOL, and then I kind of drifted off to other things (it's still some of my best angst work, so hopefully I can bring that energy to the Ghosts. The character I fixated on actually might have some similarities to Logan ssooo 👁 👁)

Maybe trying to branch out more? My two modes of writing are Hurt/No Comfort (hilarious, because I hate reading Hurt/No Comfort) and Whump so maybe I can try smth else? Maybe romance? Definitely not something I'm familiar with writing, but it feels like something I could try. (The real issue is finding ships I wanna write about /hj)

number 1 favourite line:

Hmm, this is hard, so I'm going to make up for all the other ones I can't fill by giving a few LOL

From Just Us, I'm quite fond of this line:

Shame stirs in his stomach, making him nauseous before working its way up, gripping his heart and then balling up to cause a lump in his throat that he tries his best to swallow around. "I miss him." The shame ignites like a gasoline trail, flaring quickly into anger (whether it's at himself or Rorke... it's hard to tell with all the smoke) that only makes him feel more sick. "God damn it, I miss that piece of shit."

From the Nightmares fic I'm working on (almost done with it!):

Her eyes did more than enough talking on that front, strangely expressive for how closed off she otherwise seemed. They told a thousand stories; all indecipherable, written in a language that no one could speak of, but could understand all the same. The mind's exact tales of suffering were locked away, hidden, but their effect still seemed to shine from the soul's very own fractured looking glass. A hint of resignation acted as dust upon the reflection's surface; a house haunted by time more than any other phantom.

and then this giant excerpt from a WIP abt Hesh :)

Occasionally, a glimpse will come to Hesh’s mind. Sometimes it’s intrusive, lightning flashing against a canopy of dark clouds, shaking the foundations of his mind with a deafening roar. Sudden, brief and violent in nature. Other times it’s… slow. Easy and gentle, like ocean waves crawling their way up the beach; soft, hushed. Almost comforting, if not for the deep grief that the tide often brought with it, the wind brushing by carrying the faint echoes of laughter and excited voices.

On days like this, the wind only seems to carry his own distant screams. The tide now feels lonelier than it ever did. That one set of footprints trailing in the sand was just that; a single set. The second set of imprints settled in his own stride now gone.

Instead, the ghost of his shadow is embedded yards away, a trench dug out by desperately grasping hands, reaching for anything. Reaching for him.

It’s still the gentle ease of a memory washing over him, sea foam gathering, swaying and receding slowly, but that’s perhaps what makes it worse. The slowness. The time he has to sit there and dismantle himself from the inside out, while his own head taunts him with things he no longer has, can no longer reach out for. Even the ebb and flow of water can wear down cliffs with enough time, steady and persistent in its movements.

Imagery galore! LOL

tagging... @bubble-dream-inc , @goorehound and @neon-amnesia (If y'all want to, don't feel pressured to! ^^)

Basic Template:

top 5 works i’m proudest of (not in any particular order):

top 4 current wips i’m excited about:

top 3 improvements in my writing:

top 2 writing resolutions:

number 1 favourite line:

#54321 game #tag game #call of duty ghosts #doot does things #long post

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tuulikannel · 2 years

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just some nightly ramblings about Nagito

I was just thinking about a post I made recently about how much I love the interactions of Nagito and Hajime in the Ultimate Talent Development Plan, and… it’s all so funny, except honestly, it’s actually quite sad. And then I started thinking about Nagito in general, his past and family and, well, you know, everything. And… well. This is the point where I tell certain mutuals who’ve not played DR2 yet to stop reading, in the case you are. ^~ In fact, let’s put here a cut…

So. Here are those scenes from UTDP:

Hajime: Do you say this kinda stuff to everyone you meet? Nagito: *surprised Pikachu face* Yes, I do. Why?

Hajime: Nagito, let go of my hand. Nagito: What? Why? Hajime: Why…? This is a handshake. Normally you let go when the handshake’s done.

I mean, it’s funny, it’s dorky, it’s cute, and it’s a clear sign that someone here has very low social skills and ability to read social situations. And most likely this is something caused by his condition; apparently difficulty interacting socially with others is a key symptom of frontotemporal dementia. So, yeah, first of all, Nagito… I’m sorry I’m laughing at you for being “funny” like this. Of course, I’m no expert in the matter, and I don’t know how well Nagito’s behavior really fits this condition, and who am I to guess authorial intent and all that, but I’m at least assuming this is what his weirdness is supposed to be about. So, yeah… is it really that funny?

And I wonder if there aren’t other sources for his social awkwardness, too. Like, for example, the lack of social relationships during his whole(!?) life. I wonder if he has ever really had friends. In Ultimate Summer Camp, there is an event where he goes to movies with Hajime and Ryoma, and he’s all excited about it, saying that it’s his first time going to movies with friends. Just think about that. First time. Going to movies with friends. In high school. Also, in the island mode of DR2, he mentions that he has only been to an amusement park once before with his parents. Never with friends, in other words. He has never even sat at a park talking with someone.

Is it any wonder, then, that just trying to talk normally with someone (albeit someone important to him), makes him feel like this:

I was also wondering about his relationship with his parents. I think it’s safe to assume that Nagito has always had his crazy luck. What did his parents think about it? They must have noticed early on something was off. Did they worry over their son? Did they fear him? Did they love him despite everything? They took him to an amusement park – once. I wonder what happened that they never did that again…

One line Nagito said in the first class trial remained with me long after, even before I knew anything else about his past: “Nobody's ever complimented me on my appearance before! Not even my own mother!” I mean… there are all kinds of personalities, and I bet not all mothers are always gushing about how handsome their little boys are, wearing a suit for the first time or whatever, but still. Never? His parents never gave him any compliments, at least not when he was old enough to remember it? That’s… sad.

There's also Nagito's firm believe that he is ultimately worthless. Where does that come from? He is clearly quite intelligent, yet he calls himself stupid and insignificant. For a 15-year-old kid to be so sure of his worthlessness... that doesn't happen without outside influence. I doubt mere lack of support (what his parents never complimenting him hint at) is quite enough for this. Okay, maybe I'm overthinking things... but the bits and pieces we have about Nagito's relationship with his parents do seem quite worrying to me. I’m kind of wondering… did all the bad stuff their son brought to their life make them resent him?

When Nagito talks about his parents' death, he doesn’t really show any sorrow at all. OK, it might be partly due to his condition, and partly because just to remain sane on any level, he has convinced himself that all the bad stuff will lead to good stuff in the end… so even his parents’ death is just a sacrifice for the greater good. But what is that greater good, in this case? His parents died in front of his eyes, and he’s telling about it like, “oh, but then I inherited a lot of money, so all’s good!” Now, I’m not saying he wouldn’t have felt sad (and guilty) about it, and perhaps he just blocked it all away, but I honestly wonder about his relationship with his parents and how close they really were. It’s also good to keep in mind that this happened when he was in elementary school. That means he was under 13 years old. This was years before his sickness kicked in, so in this regard, apart from his weird luck, he should have been a pretty normal kid. I wonder how he really felt about their death back then. If it was even half as devastating to him as it should have been, would he really be able to talk about it so lightly now?

Btw, do we know anything about what happened to him after their death? Who took care of him? He was way too young to be on his own, anyway. I’m also now wondering about why they were traveling with him in the first place. They must have known it’s risky business to get on an airplane with someone like him. (A weird new head canon that was just born: they were traveling in order to find healer/exorcist/something in those lines to fix their son’s strange luck!) Or… maybe I really am reading too much into the few lines we have about his parents. Maybe they were a happy family on a vacation, and that’s all. (I wish.)

Yeah… it’s past 2 am, so sorry if all of this isn't making any sense. I should head to bed. What was the point of all this anyway? Just… Nagito’s somehow so funny and so sad at the same time, and I’m eternally torn between “don’t ever change, my darling fluffhead <3” and “imma take this boy to therapy right about now” …that's all, I guess. If anyone has any opinions about any of this, please share, but for me, it’s bedtime now.

#komaeda nagito #sdr2 #danganronpa #just my ramblings #nagito komaeda

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yuujispinkhair · 2 years

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I think tumblr in general is just going down hill. So many creators have left - largely because of a lack of interaction and enthusiasm with their works - the same creators who reblogged a lot . It’s getting a bit depressing. I understand, I used to get so many interactions last year and now it’s like dead, even my dash is kinda dead these days. Don’t get me wrong, I write for myself more than anyone else, but at the same time I’m putting out free content for others to enjoy - content that I KNOW is good but nothing changes. Idk, it’s frustrating and annoying. I hope people on here realise how much comments and reblogs do for writers and other creators because more and more of us are becoming unmotivated to produce anymore work and feeling tumblr burnout causing us to leave .

YES I AGREE!! I am seriously considering going on a writing hiatus atm. I sat down to write today but then saw the few notes on my new Yuuji fic, and I was like, "Why should I even put all that time and work into writing if this is all I get in return? Might as well just watch anime or play a computer game in my free time."

Maybe I am extra frustrated right now because I just reached another milestone and got 3000 followers. I wanted to do a little event, but it just feels so fake now because out of those 3000 people, only the same few ones (who I love and appreciate very much!!) interact with my stories and leave nice feedback. The rest don't even seem to read them, or if they do, they just click the like button. I'm sorry, but that's not enough. 3000 people follow a Yuuji blog, and then only about 6 of them actually say that they enjoyed it when I post a Yuuji story :( What am I doing wrong?

I used to get so many notes and so much sweet feedback. I have no idea what changed. Maybe it's because a lot of my mutuals left? And the new people have their own friends groups which they support?

Or did the quality of my writing get worse? Are my fics too long or too boring? All I know is that it makes me sad, and I feel inadequate anytime I publish something nowadays because it never gets the feedback I was hoping it would get. I assumed that maybe the JJK fandom is dead in general or that people don't want to read about Yuuji, but I see other authors' Yuuji fics get lots of interactions so that can't be the problem either.

Now I assume that people are tired of seeing me write about Yuuji, or they suddenly don't like my way of portraying him anymore. It makes me so sad. I always put so much thought into my stories and try to be creative, and it's important to me to write in character. But now it seems like all of this isn't good enough anymore.

Yes, I always give the advice to others that they should write for themselves and I am doing that too of course. But if I only write for myself, I don't have to spend hours editing and perfecting my stories. I can just write a few short sentences with lots of spelling mistakes and grammar mistakes and leave the rest to my imagination.

I have so many ideas and things I was excited to write and share with my followers, but now I feel like most of them wouldn't be interested in them anyway. Maybe I will write those stories for myself, but I won't publish them.

Despite the complaining, I want to say thank you to the people who always interacted with my stories and gave me sweet feedback and were excited about my ideas and supported me!! I love you so much and I am very grateful for you!!

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snoko27 · 1 year

Photo

“Dreams Come to Life” Book Review~

As a gamer and a reader, I was excited to read this book. I was not expecting some events that is relevant to the video game, Bendy and the Ink Machine. There's actually not much criticism I could say about this book, except that I wanted to know more with a few characters at the end of the book. This wouldn't be the first time I have come across by previous books I read that left a cliffhanger. I'm not saying this book has a cliffhanger at the end, just minor things I wondered about. The reason why I put this as 5 stars is that I like that it puts some historical conversations that Buddy's family has been through. Being the timeline taking place in the 1940's one of them was the era of the Great Depression where Buddy and his mom struggles through poverty. Social status and gender roles also play a big part in the book in Joey Drew studios employees including Joey Drew himself. After reading this book, it answers so many questions and theories I had with the Bendy and the Ink Machine (BATIM) game. Some I want to say but can't in this section of the review because it does contain spoilers to the book. If you played the game and consider knowing more of the lore of the studio such as the employees and how the ink and the machine was made, then I highly recommend picking this book up and read it! Here is where I will be talking about spoilers, so I suggest if you have not read the book and considering reading it then you should stop here and GO READ IT. ***SPOILERS*** So, one of the things I want to point out is that the explanation of the ink having a mind of its own with some last humanity that Buddy had before it taken over. The whole time I thought Boris was Wally Franks in the BATIM game, but when Henry would call Boris "Buddy" just like the name in the book, it makes sense that Boris responded. Also, because Buddy was hired as a gofer it also makes sense how Boris in BATIM knew where he was going. Another thing I was thinking was about the giant hand that chases you in the game when you have to row the boat. I think that hand is the hand that Dot chopped off. Speaking of Dot, I kind of wish her and Buddy had a romance, but kind of glad it didn't happen because then she would have lost another person that she loved dearly. I'm sure even as friends it was sad that she had to let go. I wonder if Dot got caught or she and Jacob escape and just never looked back, but then again, I don't see Dot just fleeing without saving everybody else in the studio. I really hope she didn't get caught. This book has been despised Joey Drew even more with what he done to Buddy. I feel so bad for his family because he was barely accepting his grandfather and learn about his family. That's all my thought for the spoilers. I am so excited for the new game Bendy and the Dark Revival.

#bendyreview #bendy #bendy and the ink machine #dreams come to life #book review

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amtrak12 · 2 years

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Long rambles about my current fic project because I’m too excited but I promise it will be horrifically boring for all who follow me unless you also happen to like reading Lucifer fic so I’m putting it behind a cut.

Okay so I'm that person who actually loved S6 and the finale but who also loves reading all the alternate 'Lucifer stays and gets to raise Rory' takes that fic writers put out because, while I don't want kids in real life, I am such a sucker for a good baby!fic. I'm also a HUGE sucker for time travel shenanigans so all the 'Rory time travels to a different season' fics are mmm *chef's kiss* delicious. Right up my alley.

Time travel shenanigans are also right up my writing alley. So, if I was going to use Rory to change any season of the show, it would 1000% be season 3. I abhor season 3. It was so uneven. It doesn't flow from season 2. The timeline was inconsistent from episode to episode making it hard to follow the main arc. Cain is arguably the MOST boring antagonist of the series and yet he was also supposed to be sympathetic at times???? I HATE HIM!

(also his curse doesn't make any sense. Is he really the only person in the history of humanity to not feel guilty for his actions? THE ONLY ONE? That doesn't make any sense! YOU DON'T MAKE ANY SENSE!!)

Anyway, I have tried multiple ideas to shift the events of S3 but my favorites just weren't working out so I let myself play with an idea someone else did in a fic: time travelling TODDLER Rory. The original fic writer dropped her in S4 right after Lucifer learned about Chloe's plot to permanently banish him to hell -- so you know, the absolute perfect time to drop their toddler daughter from the future on them. It was AMAZING. That fic took me for all I'm worth and then some. I'M IN LOVE.

So I thought, time travelling toddler fic, what a perfect treat to give my brain instead of beating my head against the wall. Except when I dropped a toddler Rory halfway into S3... it worked? Like the entire plot just ran through my head, one event after the other, and the emotions were delicious, but not as delicious as the ones that came after the goodbye to Rory. The fic is done, Rory's gone home, but the GRIEF my friends, THE GRIEF!!!!! Like can you imagine? 'Hey here's your daughter. No she hasn't been born yet but you don't mind, right? Great.' *two months later* 'Okay time for her to go back to her own timeline now. Say bye Mommy! Bye Daddy! See you in two seconds for her and SEVERAL YEARS for you' like ????? Heartbreaking. Just absolutely gutting stuff and I must write about Lucifer and Chloe navigating that. Especially because they're not even in a real romantic relationship yet when Rory goes home? They're full coparents and have recovered their S2 'dancing on the line of a relationship' but they haven't actually crossed that line yet. Then the adorable creature tying them together is just.. gone. She's just gone. Now what are they supposed to do?

(Also my god, the pressure knowing the future would put on you. Like, hey we know we're going to have a daughter before we even start a relationship. How awkward is that? So weird. So delicious to explore too.)

And then of course after the time travel and after the grief, you have to change the timeline right? Like sure, sure you showed Rory triumphantly returning home to her family in the epilogue of book 1. The reader knows they changed the timeline and Lucifer stays. But S3 Lucifer didn't believe the timeline would change when Rory left. S4 Lucifer didn't believe it would change either even as he and Chloe figured out how to have a relationship with each other. So OBVIOUSLY we need a third one to finish the story out. And OBVIOUSLY -- given that toddler Rory accidentally invented time travel because Trixie was sad about her daddy and Rory was determined to go to heaven and bring him back for the 'best big sister ever' -- we show Lucifer moving from 'I'm destined to abandon my daughter :(' to 'oh shit we actually can change the future! I can stay! :D'.... by allowing them to save Dan.

Now, I didn't know if they would save Dan or not. I know it's fic, but I still worried it would feel cheap if I let the *entire* future get rewritten. But if it's a plot device, it's not cheap. It's just smoirt. *taps side of head* Also it would still have to be a close call so that they know they've changed the future. They need to know they've changed the moment that Dan died in Rory's original timeline.

(Also also, since they don't know how Dan died in the original timeline, I get to write things like Maze stalking Dan 24/7 as a protection detail and Dan finally catching her and being like WTF are you doing? It's gr8. I'm totally normal about this trilogy. I promise.)

(Also also despite my main rants about Cain -- he lives in this trilogy? And goes to jail for the Sinnerman crimes/murdering Charlotte instead? But I've also changed his curse to being tied to Abel's guilt instead of his own. It was my spouse's idea to make it God's response to 'am I a brother-keeper?' like yes. Yes you are Cain. And now you don't get Heaven until your brother does. AND this means I get to have Eve interact with her son which would be both interesting and useful because Cain can tell Eve about Chloe being a gift and then Eve can tell Chloe because 1) it would drive a wedge between Lucifer and Chloe and 2) Eve can relate to being created for someone else and thinks it's kind of shit that Chloe doesn't even know she was created but mostly 3) it would drive a wedge between Lucifer and Chloe so Eve can get closer to Lucifer again. \0/)

(I love my girl. She's such a shit-stirrer when she's got that tunnel-vision on. <3)

Um, so yeah. That's what I'm working on. What are YOU working on? Are you also being completely normal about a story idea? :P

#like just picture you're Chloe in S3 and you don't have any idea that Lucifer is the actual devil #and now you're taking care of this seemingly abandoned toddler who - given her looks and last name #is very likely your partner's child despite his protests to the contrary #but you'll try to avoid jumping to super obvious conclusions until the DNA test comes back #and then the toddler throws the biggest temper tantrum you've ever seen a child throw because her toy is missing #and these DOWNY WHITE WINGS burst out that she hide and screams under #FUCKING WINGS!!! ON A THREE YEAR OLD!#like you would lose your goddamn mind if you were Chloe right?#of course you would #I'm so excited to write this fic #I'm incapable of writing narration at the moment #but my ideas #my ideas are solid #(Rory's wings will turn pink at the end of book 1)#(it's a hero's journey for the baby but 'the world gets flipped on its ass' journey for Chloe and Lucifer)#(it's a work of genius)#(I love it)

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