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andrebearakovsky · 4 months

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Please explain Dowd's 4th line to me. I think he must like it, but it makes no sense to me at all that he's not playing higher-up

(An ask about my favorite topic, Dowd’s 4th line? Oh yes please)

Nic Dowd is a very talented hockey player, and he would probably excel on higher lines if he were placed there. HOWEVER, that won’t happen, because he is perfectly suited for the role he has, which is the shutdown center. While the top two lines are scoring-focused, Dowd’s line is a defensive line. Their first focus is not to score but to stop the other team from scoring. Dowd and his linemates get 90% of their starts in the defensive zone, which lead the team by a country mile:

That’s their job, and they’re quite good at it. They get put out on the defensive side because Carbery trusts them, they’re pretty lockdown and good in front of their own net. Dowd and Malenstyn are also the top two penalty killing forwards who WILL be the first out on the PK every single time (provided they’re not the one in the box, which is why you will often see me say “of all the people to be in the box Dowd/Malenstyn is not who I want” when I’m liveblogging the game). The numbers back this up as well, teams aren’t scoring that much when that line is out there; the three of them only trail Mantha and Protas on the team in plus-minus. And that’s your fourth line that’s 3 through 5 on the team in plus-minus, that’s pretty impressive.

So like, the answer to your question is he’s on the 4th line because he’s the defensive shutdown center, a role he’s insanely good at. In fact he’s so good at this, that it’s become A Thing over the last few years that his job specifically is to shut down the other team’s top line. I have a name for this game, every time I see this happen I say “looks like we have another edition of ‘Nic Dowd tries to shut down the other team’s top center’” (or something along those lines). This mostly happens during home games, when we control the line matchups. The coach will deliberately put the Dowd line out there against the other team’s top line in hopes that they can neutralize the opposing star players - usually this means the top center because that’s who Dowd will be taking faceoffs against, but sometimes one of the wingers is the star who needs shutting down. This is why they will often start the game (if the other team is starting the top line), and opposing broadcasts and people will often get super confused we’re purposefully playing the fourth line against the other first line, cause general wisdom says the first line will crush the fourth line. But the thing is, it works. I have watched many, many games where the Dowd line is the one out there against the opposing top line, and those top players do nothing. This isn’t always the case of course, but I’ve watched a lot of games at Capital One Arena where the visiting stars are eerily quiet and they can’t get anything going, which is in large part due to the Dowd line annoying the shit out of them and shutting them down. He’s done this and been super effective at it against, in particular, Connor McDavid, Nathan MacKinnon, Tage Thompson, Jason Robertson, among others. He recently did this against the Horvat-Barzal line against Isles.

But there’s no one he does this better against than Sidney Crosby. Of course Sid still scores against us a bunch sometimes, but it would be much more if not for Dowd. He has an uncanny ability to win faceoffs against Sid (I think it’s something to do with him being right handed, which none of the other caps centers are), which was probably a factor in matching them up in the first place. And not only is he effective but I can just see on his face that Dowd just annoys the absolute shit out of Sid lol. I’m pretty sure one time Sid punched him in the face lmao. I like to joke around that Dowd is Sid’s “enemy” and that Sid has like an enemies board on his wall that he stares at and gets angry at and there are many people on this board but Nic Dowd’s face is front and center lol

Dowd doesn’t always get the direct matchup against the top line, but it happens enough that it’s a thing. How many other fourth lines are getting matchups like that? In my opinion, the Dowd line is the best fourth line in hockey (I’ll take arguments for that Islanders fourth line but that’s it). And not only that, but this fourth line has existed in two different iterations and they’re both damn good. For YEARS, the fourth line was Carl Hagelin-Nic Dowd-Garnet Hathaway. You KNEW they were gonna be together every single game, and they stayed together as a line for a long, long time. The other lines would all shuffle around but that one was set in stone. After they were established I can’t remember them ever being separated save for if somebody was injured. And they were one of the most effective and fun fourth lines I’ve ever seen. They were mean, and tough to play against. They all blocked shots, and they all hit and hit hard, Hathaway especially. Not to mention that Nic and Garnet were besties and clearly loved playing with each other, and Carl was like exasperated by them but fond of them and worked with them very well. And now the Nic Dowd line 2.0 is much the same way. Beck Malenstyn-Nic Dowd-Nicolas Aube-Kubel have the same role and plays almost the same as the iteration before them. Malenstyn slotted perfectly into the role that Hathaway left, he’s a big guy who hits a bunch and blocks a lot of shots and I believe he’ll only do more and more of the physicality as time goes on, that’s what he was known for in Hershey. NAK, like Hagelin, is faster than the other two. And all three of them aren’t afraid to throw a punch. And they very very clearly work incredibly well together. You could see evidence of it last year: Malenstyn visibly clicked with Dowd and Hathaway when he was up with the big club, and I am a firm believer that he would’ve had that spot for the entire rest of the season had he not gotten hurt. And NAK also clicked with Dowd and Hathaway and he was with them for like the second half of the season if I remember correctly. Dowd very clearly really liked the both of them (I used to say that “those two are fraternal twin shitstarters and Nic Dowd just has to absolutely love them and want them on his wings always”), and tbh I was really surprised when they sent down NAK before opening night. Dowd and Malenstyn had been working well together since the beginning of the season, but they absolutely BLOSSOMED once NAK returned to the NHL level. The two of them literally didn’t have any points on the season until NAK came back. My friend and I would make our jokes, like “those are Dowd’s two sons and he wants to play with them” and how he was probably saying “you can pry them from my cold dead hands” and how he grabbed each of them (beck especially) and was like “okay these ones are mine these are my wingers and I am taking them with me everywhere.” And like I thought it was just jokes but then all 3 of them popped off in NAK’s return game and I’m like oh I see it wasn’t just me projecting it was 100% real. They hadn’t all 3 played together before the season and I was curious to see how they’d play together and they did not disappoint, their chemistry from that first game has been absolutely wild.

So, to bring it back to your original question, there are many reasons why Dowd doesn’t play higher up in the lineup. His strengths lie in this particular role of defense, and he and his linemates are very effective at it. Also, while he’s very good at what he does, he is not more offensively talented than the other centers on this team: Strome, Kuznetsov, and McMichael (and Nicky). Like, he’s not above them in the center hierarchy. And he’s not gonna move up to play wing, he’s a center the end. And I am perfectly happy with him where he is, he’s a stellar fourth line center that most any team would probably kill to have tbh, and he does a beautiful job at what he does.

This uhhh likely went much longer than you expected it would, sorry. I’m passionate about the fourth line. But I hoped this answered your question.

#i spent like an hour on this #lol #but I will always take opportunities to gush about the fourth line #anon #asks #washington capitals #nic dowd #beck malenstyn #nicolas aube-kubel

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ms-cartoon · 11 months

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Hello! I like your HB takes and art. They are really good.

To me, I just get mad at Stolitz for Stolas because of how he sexually coerces Blitzø. I mean I don’t condone Blitzø using him to get the book at first, but the fact from the rest of that point onwards that he has to do once a month sex in order to keep using it even though Stolas could have just taken the book back. I just have difficult time viewing their relationship as anything involving love given with how season one started. With how he demeans Blitzø.

If they wanted him to find happiness away from his wife and to heal, then I don’t mind that. It’s just that they don’t write it that way sometimes and it shows. I can’t tell if they want him to be happy or if they want to make him exploring how abused people can become abusive or toxic too, which can happen, but from fandoms I’ve been in most fans don’t like that because it negatively portrays abuse victims. That many prefer them to have happy endings. Even if this is an adult oriented show, I doubt most are interested in watching toxic characters not help themselves. If that’s the case, can’t he at least acknowledge what he did to Blitzø and figure himself out first? Can he finally sit down and calmly explain to his daughter that he was never really happy with Stella? Because anything is better than these two family members having to go through the same arc several times. It’s exhausting.

I hope you didn’t mind me asking. Have a good day/evening.

Alrighty, first off, I don't mind at all! Thank you!! I try my best!

And yes, while Blitzo is an ass for the things he pulls, even I'll admit that you can't really help but feel for the guy sometimes. One of the main reasons why some folks mainly feel for Blitzo and not Stolas is mainly because... well, pretty much all that I pointed out in my rant post about Stolas. Stolas had been taking advantage of him quite a lot, more so than Blitzo, and its a bit more complicated in his situation. Stolas knows Blitzo can't do anything without the book and he also knows that Blitzo doesn't even like him, so he uses that to his advantage. Since he liked that one-night stand with Blitzo so much, he agreed that he'll let Blitzo have the book in exchange for sex. Blitzo knows that the grimoire is the only access to the living world (as far as he is concerned anyway I guess. If he knows that a grimoire can pull that off, how does he NOT know that Asmodean crystals exist? The story would've changed entirely if he did. No need for a book and no need for sex each month. Done deal... or no deal.) and since he feels his business can't go on without the book and Stolas could take it back and secure any time he pleases, he decided to just roll with it and agree to this deal. So now Stolas pretty much got what he wanted; he made Blitzo do something he doesn't wanna do, making his job much harder for him. Not only is it hard for Blitzo, its hard for Stolas too since he's not even allowed to lend Blitzo the book. But who cares?! He gets laid and he finds it pleasurable. Is it really that worth it man.

Also, while we're on the topic of love, there's something I'm confused about. On Stolas's part, this deal was much easier to make, because he knew Blitzo didn't like him and didn't want to get involved with him romantically, let alone sexually. I mean, he must have given the obvious signs of disgust Blitzo displayed. Yet, several episodes later, the show makes it seem like Stolas was under the assumption Blitzo had always returned his feelings??? Not to mention one of the lyrics in his songs said "Was what we had all a lie?", which definitely implies as much. How is Stolas gonna act like Blitzo loved him all along??? Why else would he make a deal like this?? The only way he would is if he knew Blitzo doesn't like him, cuz he's making him do something he doesn't wanna do with him. It doesn't make any sense. If Stolas was under the impression that Blitzo loved him all along, he wouldn't have made that deal? So, which is it, Viv???

Yeah, with a show like this, most fans don't care for the build-up or the story. As long as Stolitz becomes a thing, that's the only happy ending that matters. Stolas could actually have a chance to take responsibility for his actions and acknowledge the sh*t he pulls, but screw that! Ms. Vivziepop is gonna continue to have us take pity and baby him as always, letting him continue to be a less-than-potential horny bag of feathers. Cuz she just loves to favor some of her characters over anyone else. And while that's not a problem, you can't just ignore other characters and you can't have your favorite character be toxic while acting like the victim who did nothing wrong! Like, to this day, Viv STILL won't even have Stolas acknowledge he's a selfish idiot and that he took advantage of Blitzo while seeing him as a walking dildo.

About Octavia, I do get what you're saying. I don't know why Stolas didn't just say what he said. I get that it's not easy for a parent to tell their child they never loved the other or they just stopped loving each other, but bro, Octavia is 17. She should be grown enough to understand something

"Via, you're mother and I weren't.... She hasn't been... I haven't been... I-... I don't know. I don't have the words."

Just say you and Stella were arranged to get married and didn't really love each other like that!!! Come one, man!! I honestly don't believe she needs to be explained anything anyway. How could she NOT know her parents didn't love each other! They always fight in front of her! She should've gotten the idea! We didn't even see her feel all the bad about the divorce!! Are you kidding me!!???

#helluva boss criticism #helluva boss critique #helluva boss critical #anti helluva boss #vivziepop #critique

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audioaujom · 11 months

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Day Five, Zac/Murph/Brennan

CHPowers Hub, next >

These first two chapters will be rather short, but they're mostly an introduction. All breaks in this chapter indicate a shift in point of view.

Word Count: 1484

Chapter TWs: Implied/Referenced Experimentation

It took Zac an embarrassingly long amount of time to realize he wasn’t alone.

Despite the enhanced hearing and usual high awareness of his surroundings, he was rather preoccupied with the scientists constantly poking and prodding at him and coming to terms with his abduction and the like. He was quite busy.

It was on the fifth day during a rather fitful sleep—that was more restful than the night before—that he awoke with a start, hearing yelling from what sounded like directly next door. Zac was too confused to hear exactly what was said, and by the time he’d woken up enough to come to his senses he heard footsteps retreating down the hall. He got up only to sit back down against the wall closest to the noises he was hearing, finding a vent high on the ceiling and sitting near it to see what he could make out from next door.

Pacing, mostly. Some mumbling. Occasional kicks against the wall.

Wait… is there someone else here?

“Um…” Zac cringed at the sound of his own voice, clearing his throat and speaking up a little. “Hello?”

“...hi?” Came the confused reply, Zac hearing whoever it was stop pacing.

“Are you okay? I, um, heard you get tossed back in there.”

“No offense, man, but what’s it to you?” They approached the wall, and Zac could picture the scowl on their face without needing to see them.

“Just an honest question!” Zac defended, turning to face the vent a little better. “I didn’t know there was anyone else here until you, well, woke me up.”

Silence stretched out between the two of them for a few moments until the stranger asked, a little sheepish, “...was I really that loud?”

“I’ve got… sensitive ears.” Zac answered honestly. “I’m Zac, by the way.”

There was another long stretch of silence before the man answered, voice quieter but not so quiet Zac couldn’t clearly make it out, “...Brian. But my friends all call me Murph.”

“Is… what?” Zac cut himself off, turning to face the wall, completely confused. “How do you get Murph from Brian?”

“It’s my last name.” Murph explained, not even bothering to suppress the quiet chuckle he let out at Zac’s very audible confusion. “Murphy.”

“Oh, that would make sense.” Zac nodded several times, before lazing back onto his elbows with a soft sigh. “But are you alright?”

“I guess. It’s not like anything in here ever changes.” Murph winced almost imperceptibly, also seeming to make himself more comfortable while continuing the conversation, “I’m assuming you’re new?”

“Um… yes?” Zac answered hesitantly, not quite sure what that meant. “It’s been almost a week, if I’m counting right. You?”

Murph laughed humorlessly, and Zac heard him thud his head against the wall. “You really start to lose track after the first month.”

“...oh.” Zac fell silent for a long moment, processing.

How many people are here? And for how long?

And what does that mean for me?

“Sorry, that… sounds awful.”

“We’re in the same situation, nothing to be sorry for.” Murph sighed, letting another moment of silence hang before interrupting it with, “You seem like an alright guy.”

“Thanks. Could say the same about you, talking to me even when hurt.”

“Not much else to do in here.”

“Suppose that’s true.” Zac paused for only a second before turning to the wall again and blurting out, “Wanna play a game?”

“What?”

“You said there wasn't much to do and I'm bored out of my mind, so…” Unbothered by Murph’s very obvious confusion, Zac tried again, “Wanna play a game?”

It was quiet for a moment. Then two. Then—

“Sure. Why not?”

——

Murph hated to admit it, but he’d started to feel better after regularly chatting with Zac.

He was funny, and always ready to talk about the most random of things to pass the time. They’d play insane 20 questions or questionable ‘Never Have I Ever’s, and it didn’t take long for the sensation of laughing once again became a normal feeling for Murph. It was a relief to not be alone, and to not go entirely crazy between experiments.

The two of them had been going back and forth for several rounds of the most insane noise-related dares they could come up with when a loud voice suddenly cut in from through the opposite wall.

“Are you really going to talk to him again today?”

Murph instantly went rigid and stared straight at the wall, Zac on his other side going quiet as well.

“You two are starting to get on my nerves.”

“Wow, you sound completely devoid of joy.” Murph huffed, getting to his feet and pacing towards the other wall—knowing that Zac would somehow still be able to hear him. “Assuming you’ve been here a long time, then.”

“Don’t talk to me. There’s no point in making attachments.” Whoever they were, they were at some sort of limit, and Murph felt a spike of guilt at never having tried to reach out to anyone before.

Not that this guy sounds like he’d like to chat with me, anyway.

Before he could say anything else Murph heard Zac call through the vent, “Tell him he sounds like he’s real fun at parties!”, not bothering to hold in the laugh that burst out.

“Something about that funny to you?”

“Nah, Zac was just telling jokes.” Murph shrugged lightly, finding a comfortable place between the two walls to take a seat so he could communicate with them both. “It’s at least slightly less miserable with company.”

“I doubt that.” The stranger huffed, Murph already set on getting through to whoever this was in at least some capacity.

I could’ve turned out the same way if it wasn’t for Zac, so… my turn?

“I’m Murph. Zac’s the guy on the other side. He can hear you if you say something loud enough.” Murph introduced, gesturing between the walls comically even though he knew neither of them could see him.

“Cool. Can you leave me alone now?”

“Absolutely not.” Murph asserted at the same time Zac chimed in with, “Nope. No way.”

“And Zac agrees with me.” Murph continued, scooting a little closer to the stranger’s wall hopefully. “At least tell me your name.”

“...Brennan.” The man answered after a long moment, before adding, “Will you fuck off now?”

“Oh, it’s even less likely now.” Murph nodded, hearing Zac cheer quietly. “Nice to meet you, Brennan.”

“What have I gotten myself into?”

“The worst 12-year old sleepover you’ve ever been to.” Grinning, Murph turned back towards Zac’s wall. “Now where were we?”

“Wait, if I yell loud enough can Brennan hear me too?!” Zac tried, raising his voice as best he could.

“Yes, a little.” Brennan mumbled, but both Murph and Zac clearly heard him.

“Awesome!” Murph could picture the way Zac nodded, turning to face the wall between them. “I was just about to do an impression of a bathtub falling through the floor.”

“...what in the actual hell?”

“I came up with that one.” Murph declared proudly. “The floor is yours, Zac!”

——

To say Brennan was floored would be an understatement.

He’d long since lost count of how long he’d been stuck in this damned room, and of how many times they’d poked at him and made his life completely and utterly miserable. And now here he was, listening to a random stranger make loud water and crashing noises—with a surprising degree of accuracy Brennan would never admit out loud—through two walls while another stranger through one wall laughed hysterically.

It was shaping up to be a weird, weird day.

“Murph, can you do any accents?” The one furthest from Brennan—Zac, as Murph had introduced him—spoke loud enough they could both hear him, sounding self-satisfied.

“Um… New York, probably?” Murph replied uncertainly after a minute, Brennan rolling his eyes.

I bet it’s going to be bad. They're always bad.

“Oooh, you should do it.” Zac immediately encouraged, Brennan's expression souring further. “Say something like… ‘I’m a trash man’.”

“Why would I say, ‘I’m a trash man’ in a New York accent?” Murph retorted, but he didn't sound entirely opposed to the idea.

“Beats me. I just think it would be funny.”

“Fine, fine.” Murph laughed a little, before tentatively trying, “I’m a trash man!”

“That was horrible.” Brennan found himself chiming in instantly as Zac laughed loudly, leaning his head back against the wall between his room and Murph’s. “Not even close.”

“Oh, you can do better?” Murph challenged immediately, defensive.

“Of course I can do better. I can do like… every accent imaginable.” Brennan defended himself, glaring at the wall as if they could see him.

“Prove it, then.”

“Yeah, prove it!”

“I don’t have to prove anything to you two morons.” Brennan complained, leaning against the wall.

“You brought it up, though!”

Shit. Zac had a point.

“Fine. But just this once.”

#fanfic #fanfiction #cross posted on ao3 #collegehumor #dropout tv #dimension 20 #zac oyama #brennan lee mulligan #brian murphy #lou wilson #emily axford #whump #angst #powers au #writing

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honeybee-babe · 2 years

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I’ve seen so many “Why is only Allison getting hate for her actions when no one else did?” posts it’s hurting my brain. Has everyone forgotten Luther has been consistently hated by the majority for 3 yrs? The over abundance of moon jokes even though he mentioned it a few times in s1? All the sibling ranking posts with Luther at the bottom bc they say he’s irredeemable and a villain? Countless I hate Luther posts and an anti tag for him filled to the brim? Bc I think everyone’s forgotten that

Yeah and also. None of the other siblings sexually assaulted someone for no reason other than a power play. Allison is getting ‘hate’ because her actions this season were objectively terrible, she was so selfish, and like 90% of the things she did this season she did for selfish reasons because she was hurting and wanted a power play and couldn’t deal with her ‘loss’ even though everyone else lost things too(though also keep in mind, losing a child is like the worst thing that can happen to someone and she’s used to getting WHATEVER she wants, so it probably does hit her more). Luther’s bad/questionable actions in season 1 were intended to save the planet/greater good. Allison’s were literally only for herself.

And I mean what really terrible actions did the other siblings do this season? Yes, Klaus is an idiot for supporting Reggie and believing him (but Klaus is always an idiot lol), you could say Viktor was being ‘selfish’ when trying to protect Harlan over the rest of the world (though Harlan was kinda like his child in a sense too, obviously not the same thing as Claire but it’s somewhat comparable in a way). Did Diego do… anything bad this season? Did Five? Luther did some pretty dumb things for sure but it’s another Klaus situation; he’s just dumb. And didn’t do anything ‘bad’ if I remember correctly.

And listen I don’t hate Allison. Though what she did was objectively irredeemable and awful (the SA part; the rest is at least explainable in their universe), we have to keep in mind she did catch herself and stop it (thank god) and I think she can grow. I actually think her arc was really interesting, because I’m not here for characters with perfect morals; it makes the plot more interesting and, if she grows from this in season 4, could be a really interesting journey for her. But to wonder why she’s getting ‘hate’ when she very clearly had the most morally objectionable actions this season out of everyone (except, y’know, Reggie) is flat out stupid.

#Allison Hargreeves #Luther Hargreeves #Klaus Hargreeves #the umbrella academy #tua #umbrella academy #the hargreeves siblings #the hargreeves #viktor hargreeves #diego hargreeves #five hargreeves #reginald hargreeves #tua spoilers #tua s3 spoilers

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winns-stuff · 11 months

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LO RANT:

Genuinely believe the fans don’t know what Lore Olympus is even supposed to be anymore. It’s sad going into their comment sections and seeing so many fans be poisoned with utter hypocrisy and be so blinded that they don’t even read what they’re saying. This is why having just one positive opinion isn’t always the best way to go, it’s okay to say that Lore Olympus is not doing the best this is not going to kill Rachel. It’s fine if you’re getting tired of the plot stories, it’s more than fine if you can’t read anymore because of the bad character designs etc. Every time I see a fan it’s like they’re under some mind control and it truly does make me wanna shake my head especially when arguing with a critic, their points will always never make any sense or they’ll just be horrible takes.

For one I’ve noticed a lot of fans love to use the whole “this is how the myth goes!!!!” statement whenever someone has a problem with either the story or the characters in that episode that day. You guys please stop saying that shit, it’s getting old and it doesn’t even make sense. You can’t say that Lore Olympus is exactly like the myths and in the same breath defend Rachel’s abstract artistic choices by saying “she can do whatever she wants!! it’s a retelling!!” which one is it damnit? Is she following the myths or putting a massive spin on it? Pick one you can’t have both at the same damn time.

That’s the backwards thinking of this entire fandom that really trips me out though, the fans want two very opposite and different things to exist all at once but in reality it never will. Your webtoon is plagued with so much hypocrisy that even defending it or trying to make a point will make you a huge hypocrite. Lore Olympus does too much of “yes we can do this but no we cannot at the same time”, it’s never standing clear on beliefs, personalities, morals, relationships, etc. Everything always has to be both at the same time and I’m thinking the reason for that is because Rachel probably thought this would help her case more, like is pedophilia inside of the story? In a way yes but also no. Is feminism in the story? In a way yes but also no. Is mental health in the story? In a ways yes but also no. Are y’all seeing the pattern? Someone from outside of this fandom with zero knowledge about Lore Olympus cannot outright say that “Lore Olympus doesn’t talk about sexual traumas” because it does but it doesn’t at the same time. They just use both sides of every topic they decide to throw into the story that day so theirs never a person who can genuinely be upset that something isn’t there because it is, it’s just not being handled well or written with any decency.

Also last thing, I wish that a lot of the fans would stop the blatant sexualization of the characters it’s so uncomfortable to sit through and a lot of the comments are dehumanizing. There’s a difference between saying that the characters are hot and begging for them to literally scramble your insides and headcanoning how they fuck each other. Genuinely it’s getting out of control with how you guys treat this story like it’s some kind of kinky fanfic (which I can’t even blame you for because that’s what this is to Rachel at this point) mainly because there’s serious topics being discussed in your beloved comic that your amazing author decided to write into this series. So no, it’s never been about watching these random characters fuck each other it’s always been so much “deeper” than that sadly and even though I’ll never stop explaining how Lore Olympus never should’ve put those very real and serious conversations in her story if she was not going to shed any positive or even respectful light on those themes because it’s giving the readers a horrible depiction of all of them I will say that you all need to settle the fuck down and start realizing that this comic is more than seeing Persephone and Hades get naked (fucking barely, you don’t even see anything yet everyone still wants more detailed and graphic scenes).

#lore olympus critical #lo critical #anti lore olympus #anti lo #lore olympus criticism

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notwithaste · 1 year

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there’s actually so much to unpack in 3.2 it might in fact be their most telling episode yet, after car crash and unnatural habits one of course. (and i dare say that having also seen the italian episode tonight 😮‍💨; two episodes back to back serving that delicious jealousy trope, exactly what i deserved 🏌🏻‍♀️i will try and assemble my thoughts on ~that piece of madness once i’ve rewatched it. twice. for research 😌)

this ep though. i was wondering if they’re going to progress them steadily throughout s3 following the date thing in 3.1 or if they were gonna make them get in the way of themselves (and how well that was going to be done because so often on shows it’s angst for its own sake rather than being character-driven). and they went for the latter and the fact we seem to have regressed is making all the sense in the world because it makes all the sense for the characters. and while i hated seeing phryne in that hangar, the discomfort surrounding it was exactly the right emotion, regression exactly the right term - for her uncertainty about what is happening with jack, for her going back to the easy and familiar.

and i mean obviously yes and yes again to all the jealousy from jack which is delicious and should get its name on the opening credits at this point (keep it up, show!). and while his jabs to her at the beginning are meant to be flippant, it is so obvious they are anything but (his jaw is working extra hard this ep, for starters. the fact he also looks hurt as hell is a dead giveaway, too).

but for me it’s the fact that phryne explains herself to him that’s the main event. and i don’t mean right after canoodling with captain flashheart; i mean right off the bat really.

the fact she does this - explains who compton is, what he was to her and when; and jack wait, and jack you have to understand - and the fact she feels like she owes him an explanation at all. and she does so willingly and so genuinely; she never once dismisses jack and she never plays down his discomfort or his hurt - and it’s such character growth, and it’s so organic, honestly i absolutely loved what they did there.

but then he pushes just that bit too hard, makes it a little too personal, with the dancing to compton’s tune line and you can ~see the shift in phryne; her whole demeanour changes and i knew - i KNEW - she would panic. because she doesn’t dance to anyone’s tune except she’s been dancing to jack’s tune a little bit lately and that scares her - the fact that she doesn’t really notice, doesn’t even mind it.

her going to compton is her wanting to regain familiar footing, feel on solid ground again.

too much ballast for lift off line is ~so spot on, so well placed, exactly how she feels. it conveys so many of her reservations and fears about this budding new relationship with jack, this trajectory she finds herself on, one she has been flirting with and tempting and longing for; but equally one that’s always scared her. and i think the fact it’s been so easy to slip in to that with jack is almost part of the problem, part of the reason why it’s so frightening.

(the fact compton asks her about jack after seeing them together for all of 17 minutes cumulatively is also so very telling!)

the scene where he catches her on the base in the middle of the night, his face and he knows and he’s so hurt and betrayed - and rightfully so - it’s painful to watch. but again, it’s phryne’s reaction that brings it home for me. not just that she goes after jack, but the fact she is so genuinely regretful. she knows she’s hurt him and she owns it; he is hers to hurt. and for phryne to allow herself to be that attached to a man that being with someone else feels like cheating is, i mean, that’s huge.

and as for jack, i know why he’s reluctant and guarded and scared, i do. he’s her hero but he doesn’t want to be just one in the long line of her heroes. one of her men (what other men? there are no other men that can be compared to jack); but god if he knew what she knows, see what she sees in him. if he knew that she’s just as scared as him but for exactly the opposite reason - because she knows he’s not fleeting at all; he’s the one that’s forever.

(ESCORTED BY MY FIANCÉ AND THE HAND OVER HIS HAND AND HIS KNEE JACK YOU ARE GOD’S STRONGEST SOLDIER)

#miss fisher's murder mysteries #phrack #phryne x jack #mfmm #phryne fisher #jack robinson #murder and the maiden #they are so insane for this ep #sorry for the ramblings #it just keeps getting worse #they’re a disease

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tsintotwo · 1 year

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[POV: You were born a Dream vortex, and Lord Morpheus has been watching you all your life. Though at this point, he’s doing much more than just watching you... Part 5. Part 4 here.

(I’m going over again, this looks like the 2nd to last part now. I am aware that this story is way too long for tumblr and at this point not many people are reading. But as always, I’m writing for myself and that’s because when I feel it I can’t not- finding readers is just the lovely bonus! Anyway, slight smut/NSFW.)]

I am 20, and I am going back to my old palace.

My father is no more. He has been killed in war. My brother still managed to win. He has taken the throne now. And he has invited me to visit.

‘Come for the funeral ceremony. After, we can talk.’ His message was formal and did not say this, but it was the gist.

I didn’t know how to feel. I didn’t know if I should go. And there is only one whom I would discuss this with.

‘Why does he want to see me now?’, I ask Morpheus. We are in one of the high rooms in his castle. From the window, I can see the bridge over the canal. So many people on it, yet no one can see each other. And they are all seeing their own version of the Dreaming, living in their own story. I always marvel at this, but today I am too distracted.

‘I can’t believe he is so generous as to consider my feelings- he isn’t doing this just so I may pay last respects to my father. And the body has been buried long ago anyway, it’s just the ceremonial proceedings of the proper funeral which- ‘ I get more agitated as this occurs to me, ‘women aren’t even supposed to attend! I forgot about that. And I am supposed to be a witch! There’s no way my brother wants me to attend this. I bet I reach there, and he’s ready with his men, just waiting to- to capture me, kill me, I don’t know what-‘

Dream was listening to me attentively. Now he places a hand on my shoulder. He doesn’t have to say or do anything else. There’s a gravity to his touch that instantly pulls me down from my agitated state.

‘Why does he want me there?’, I ask again after a pause, calmer now.

‘I, as a monarch, would confer with another if we had business.’ Dream lets his hand fall away from my shoulder, and I immediately miss it there. ‘This may be a proposed allyship, a matter of conflict that needs settling, asking or returning a favor. And I would never harm an honored guest. Neither would I be expected to be harmed when invited as such. But-‘, he shrugs his slim shoulders slightly, ‘I am not human.’

No, no, he is not. Still, there’s something to his words. My brother may want something besides just killing me. But what? I shake my head, ‘Do you think I should go?’

‘I think you should be careful.’, the way Dream looks at me distracts me from my turbulent thoughts for a moment. He looks concerned- for me. The idea of it makes my heart do a sort of twist. And the longer I look at him, the more I want to touch him again. The memory of that night flashes in my head- my hand in his, his arm around my body, my head on his shoulder. Soul-deep bliss, vivid happiness. I long for it.

Since that night, Dream and I have not talked about it. But we have been… softer towards each other. In a way I cannot explain, it feels like we are leading up to something. But I fear neither of us knows what it is.

Thinking of softer, quieter things takes my mind to the night I received my father’s death via a messenger. ‘I don’t feel bad. I’m not sorry he is dead.’, I confess to Dream, ashamed. ‘I feel sad that I’m not sad. Does that make any sense? Am I a terrible daughter?’

‘Was he a terrible father?’, Dream asks, and before I can even consciously think the answer has fallen from my lips, ‘Yes.’

‘Then it is fitting.’, he says, and I smile despite myself. He would not say I’m not terrible, only it is fitting that I should be. Not a human thing to say, but whether it is all the time I’ve spent with him in my life or all the experiences I’ve gone through, I prefer this to meaningless condolences. Still, a sigh floats out of me- to have only one parent to begin with, and yet never having them at all.

‘Do you have parents?’ I ask Dream, as it occurs to me for the first time.

‘I was born of Night and Time.’, he replies.

Concepts to struggle with if given real thought, but all I can say is, ‘You are the son of Night?’, the smile is creeping onto my lips again.

He frowns, ‘Not the son. Such concepts don’t apply-‘

‘You look it.’, I inform him, properly smiling now.

‘Look what?’, he doesn’t understand.

‘Like you’re the son of Night.’

‘Not the son-‘

‘So you were a child once?’

‘I was’, he says cautiously, and seeing me grin, demands, ‘What?’

I can’t tell him that mental images of an adorable baby Dream are making things melt inside me, neither how much I appreciate the warmth right now. But it doesn’t last as my worries defeat follow up questions in pace. And along with anxiety, a fear simmers. It is not exactly fear for my life even though I think my brother might attempt to kill me. It is something else. A premonition of a kind. Like just when I’ve managed to have things going well finally, it is all about to change.

It is daytime in the waking world, and I nearly forced myself to sleep so that I can visit here. But I didn’t expect solutions or even advice, not really. Morpheus wouldn’t give either directly regarding my affairs, I would have to infer them myself, only facilitated by our discussions. But above all, I just wanted to see him and feel better. And I do. Yet, there is this… this ominous sense of grave future loss I can’t shake off.

I take deep breaths, trying to expel it from my nerves. ‘I will go’, I tell Dream. ‘I am not a coward, and I admit that I am curious. If he wanted to kill me, would he really be so obvious and do it at his own castle, having invited me there for that sole purpose? Though…’, I start doubting my logic as soon as I present it, ‘what would be the consequences, really? My people are mostly happy under my rule as far as I know, but they are still not completely at ease with me as their Queen. I cannot imagine them rallying to avenge me, or my councilmen arranging for a war- half of them will be easily bought and the other half will be vying for influence, putting forth their own candidates of choice …’ I trail away, realizing this for the first time. ‘No one will actually care if I die, I suppose. Some of my guards, servants, maids, maybe-’

I’m lost in my own comprehension of this core truth, shaken- but then I’m startled as Morpheus speaks- he sounds different suddenly, his voice cutting cold and sharp as a shard of ice.

‘I shall have you know that’, he steps in front of me, ‘for anyone, attempting to harm you may result in having to contend with me.’ He says this slow and clear, eyes gleaming with the promise of violence, and the hard press at the corners of his mouth is cruel, like he’s already thinking of punishments. It’s a terrifying picture. For a moment, I’m transfixed. Then my eyes are full of tears.

This startles Dream. He says my name but is a question. He is perplexed, trying to understand why I’m crying.

I wish I knew the answer. But suddenly I’m feeling three dozen tangled emotions and all of them are trying to break my heart and I don’t know how to explain any of it. ‘Dream-‘, I start not knowing what I’m going to say, and what comes out is, ‘I’m afraid. I have a- a premonition, this feeling that things are about to change.’

Dream only nods like he agrees that might be true. This makes me feel worse.

‘I don’t-‘, looking at Dream, only one thing matters. Trying not to let the tears fall, I finish simply, ‘I don’t want to lose you.’

His eyes flare, lips parting a little. His chest rises and falls like he’s breathing heavier. But he doesn’t say anything. His gaze is fixed with mine, and I desperately want to touch him, want to be in arms, and by now, this is nothing new, but today, there is something new- and that is this thought: then why not just have what I want? Why not just touch him? What am I waiting for? I’ve always tried to shove aside these thoughts, control myself – because I didn’t know what they meant, because I didn’t know what Dream thought, because I didn’t want to influence our dynamic in a way I could never change back. But at this moment, I find that I don’t care anymore. I just want to hold him, and that’s enough to know.

So I do. I close the space between us in a few steps. The cloak he’s wearing over simple clothes today is loose and open in the front, and I slip my arms in to put them around him. I bury my head in his chest, breathing deeply. Dream is very still, not moving at all. But I hold him as tightly as I can. I won’t let go.

His body is slender but very hard, and I can almost feel the thrum of immeasurable power within. Doubt plagues the back of my mind- have I overstepped, am I being overfamiliar? Is my touch unwelcome? But my worries prove futile as slowly one of Dream’s arms goes around me. He places the hand on the back of my head, keeping it rested against his chest. His other hand is on my waist.

And through his touch, I feel his reassurance for me, and dare I believe, affection. Just beyond this simmers that doubt still, that sense of falling towards something without knowing the shape of it. But he would ignore that and be here, and I hold him even tighter, and I cry. I cry for my mother I never knew, my father who never wanted to know me, I cry for myself, for things that were and things that I fear will be. I have not cried this much in years, but in this moment, I let myself be that child again, the child who knew how to cry and do it unrestrained, and wrapped in Dream’s arm, secure and still around my back, I feel safe to be her.

___________________________________________

My brother lets me know in quite clear terms what he wants from me. He wants my queendom. My throne. My agency.

‘I must applaud your talent.’, mildly he tells me, ‘Lifetimes go by when one does not hear from a woman, a proper woman. And here you are - within a few years you managed to create multiple scandals, cause a kingdom to implode upon itself-‘

‘Nothing imploded.’, I interrupt, ‘The queendom is thriving. I am ruling it.’

‘Sure.’, he says, voice silky, and I know that whether he knows or believes what I tell him won’t make a difference in front of his own agenda. ‘But ours is a high, ancient family, sister. A woman of this family being so incredibly wanton, doing whatever she wants- it is a disgrace. You must stop at once. And I can help you.’. He attempts a benevolent smile that makes him look like a predator instead, ‘It is now time to return to your true place- quite beyond the veils of the inner halls- and leave men’s businesses to men. I have the perfect King for that land in mind-‘, he speaks of a first cousin who must have become an ally, ‘and the transition can be easy and smooth as long as you cooperate.’

‘But you’ll control him, right? And you’ll be the real King.’

‘Well’, he tries to appear modest but fails, ‘Is that not ideal? I am your brother-‘

‘You are no brother of mine.’, I say flatly, ‘And why you think my people would be fine with me just handing over power to a foreign King is beyond me.’

‘Oh, people.’, he dismisses them with a wave of his hand, ‘They can be convinced to see things my way. Don’t you worry.’

‘I see how you would rule.’, I say, words glazed in ice, ‘But it is irrelevant, because you can’t bully me out of my own throne, brother.’ I spit out the last word, his thin, oily face making anger churn in my stomach, ‘I am my own self, and I am the rightful Queen, and I will rule as I am meant to.’ I stand up, ‘It has been good to see the old palace. But I have my own now. It is time for me to leave.’

He stands up too, calm. ‘I am asking you again, for the last time.’ He is not much taller than me, but he cuts an imposing figure. Malice oozes out of him, ‘Because I will have those lands. You can’t stop me, with all your tricks and petty magic that you may have. You being difficult now will just make it a much, much bloodier transition than it could have been.’

‘Asking?’, I have to control my voice so it doesn’t shake, ‘You’re threatening me. You’re threatening war on my queendom and my people.’

He shrugs, ‘Let time be the witness that I gave you your chance. You will have blood of your people on your own hands.’, he sneers, ‘and it will be your own fault.’

He has changed from the hot-headed, restless young boy I knew. The older version of my blood brother seems calculated and contained in a way that is ten times more dangerous. But I cannot be afraid.

‘Wordplay won’t change the truth.’, I answer, ‘Whatever terrible things you’ll do, you can choose not to. You’ve always been power-hungry-‘

‘Ambition makes a great king.’, he doesn’t let me finish, ‘But you wouldn’t understand. Women are not fit for ruling, this is just further proof.’ He sighs, ‘Father in his old age became soft and did not see the merit of my ideas, or we would be having this conversation much earlier-‘

This startles me. ‘What? Father didn’t approve of you wanting to invade my lands?’

He brushes this away, ‘He was still disgusted with you, trust me. He just became increasingly afraid of risks.’

He doesn’t sound entirely convincing, though, and despite myself, a very tiny flame of love for my father is lit within. Grudgingly or resignedly, maybe in the end he did accept me as I wanted to be.

But not my brother. So I tell him, ‘Do what you will. And I shall do what I must.’

_______________________________

‘I saw a real forest.’, I report to Dream. ‘I travelled my way this time, taking plenty of stops to see things.’

But I did not enjoy any of it much- thoughts of impending doom had their hold over me both while travelling to and back from my old palace. Only the second time it was much more real. I don’t tell that to Dream yet, and he smiles. ‘I am glad.’

We are walking in the Dreaming. This particular place I don’t have a name for. It looks like the edge of a naked forest, leafless trees with large overhanging branches standing in line like sentinels. The path takes us along a river, but there is very little water. It is all a little gloomy.

‘What did your brother want?’, Dream asks, and I don’t know why but I am dreading this conversation. I could’ve come seen him the very same day that I saw my brother, but I didn’t. Now the moment is here.

‘He wanted my throne.’, I tell Dream everything. Afterwards, there is silence. We walk in small paces. The bank of the river has widened, yellow sand peeks from under the pebbles. The forest has marched away. Everything feels barren. Still there is a haunting beauty in it that I’ve come to expect from the Dreaming.

I fill the silence. ‘I don’t know when my brother will strike. But my queendom must prepare as if he’ll do it tomorrow.’

‘And how will you prepare?’ Dream has stopped walking. He’s looking at me, his blue gaze turning liquid silver in the harsh daylight, and I know exactly what he’s asking me.

‘I promised to protect my people, Lord Morpheus.’, I stop too, and face him, ‘So I must deliver now. My land is small, and my army too. And even if they weren’t, innocent blood will be spilled by a physical war. So if I could…’

‘You mean to meddle with Dream elements again.’, he is not asking for confirmation, he knows. So instead, I implore gently.

‘I will prepare.’, I say. ‘I will practice, for as long as it takes, until I have control-‘

‘You cannot practice for situations you cannot predict.’, he dismisses me harshly. ‘And these things are too volatile to do anyone’s bidding.’

‘They do your bidding.’, I point out.

‘Yes.’, he agrees, voice stony, ‘That, I suppose, would be a way for you. If you shaped worlds as you see fit, if you didn’t destroy it all, you would take my place as the center of the Dreaming.’

‘I- what?’, this is a shocking thought, one that I am not fully able to comprehend.

‘You would be Dream. I would cease to exist.’

I have no idea how that would even work, and even if I did, I would find it just as unthinkable.

‘Okay, stop it.’, I refuse to entertain this conversation, ‘It would not be ‘a way’ for me, never. Are you crazy?’

But the way he looks at me, with cold appraisal, makes me feel like he didn’t hear anything I just said. So I try again, ‘I would never endanger you-‘

‘Endangering the realm is endangering me.’, he cuts in, the resentment in his eyes piercing my heart, ‘And you seem determined to do that.’

‘What am I supposed to do, then?’, helpless anger flares in me, ‘Just let people die? Give in to my brother’s invasion? Will you help me?’

‘Wars change the course of human history and have long-reverberating consequences. I cannot take sides in such an event. I cannot manipulate the results.’

‘Yes, I assumed as much.’ I did. So I take a deep breath, and say. ‘I must be the one to protect my land and people. And I can do it. Dream, trust me, please.’

This is all I can do- beg him to trust me, but my truth is a dirty secret, and it’s making me sound weak. The truth is- I don’t even trust myself. I haven’t used my abilities in a precise manner in a long time, and in the meantime I have felt them grow bigger and wilder. I have no idea about the extent to which I can exert control.

Dream is no fool, and I can see that I haven’t convinced him. And as I am a Queen thinking about my realm, he is a King thinking about his. So I can’t blame him when he starts walking away. It takes me a few moments to realize he means to leave no parting words, but when I do, something starts breaking in me. Just as I feared, a rift has opened between us, and it feels like I am losing him to it. I don’t know how to stop it, so, desperate and terrified, I run after him and grab his hand.

‘Dream, don’t-‘, I have no words, but doesn’t he know? Doesn’t he know I can’t lose him? I can’t, I can’t…

But, after a glance at my hand holding his, he pulls it away. He doesn’t look at me, but his voice is thick and rough. ‘Go back.’, he says, and not bothering to keep up the pretense of having to walk, disappears in a shimmer of golden sand. I stand there, feeling like this is the beginning of the end of everything.

___________________________________

I wasn’t prepared for it- the width of the chasm that has opened between Dream and I. I hated the way we left things off, and despite knowing maybe some space and time apart would be wise, I went to see him again soon after. I had a dozen frantic thoughts in my head- maybe he’s calmed down, maybe I can reason with him, maybe I can be bold and firm and demand that he listens, maybe I can show how miserable and afraid I really am and implore him to lend me strength and courage, what will I do, what will he say- but all of it was futile. The moment I reached the Dreaming, it felt different. Diminished. Something was missing.

It was Dream himself. He wasn’t here. ‘Traveling’, I was told by Lucien.

Okay, this had happened a few times before. Dream has things to attend to all over infinite universes. So a few days later, I looked for him in the Dreaming again.

Again, he was not there.

Neither the next time I looked for him.

Neither the next.

And the next time, for the first time in years, I got lost in the Dreaming. I did not know where I was. I could not find his castle. So I sank down on my knees whatever land I was passing through, and I let tears fall. Because faster than I thought possible, before I could realize, it had happened. Morpheus was out of my reach, and that is what he wished. The closeness I felt with him, the connection I thought we had, all our moments spent together- over a single conversation, he decided none of it was worth anything.

He was not my friend.

Back to this realization, again. I could not believe it. In my mind, I screamed at him- how dare you push me away like that, I sobbed in his arms- do you know, do you have an iota of an idea of the excruciating pain of not seeing you, talking to you, being with you, I begged at his feet- stay, stay, stay, I threw a poisonous last glance as I left him- oh, oh you think I need you, just see… But, in the end, all I was left with was a yawning, bottomless chasm within myself, its maw open, teeth forever seeping a black, bleak poison in me.

It was distracting, at a time when I needed to focus more than ever. In the meeting with my councilmen, they were subtle enough, but did not hesitate to make it clear that they thought the only reason they’re facing this war was because of me. It was not untrue. But none of us had time to dwell on this- there was so much to do.

So I do it. Endless hours of meetings- about everything. Growing the army. Readying the army. Start accumulating supplies. Taking account of existing relationships with other kingdoms- who would be on our side, who would not? Reaching out for possible allyships…

Every night I am exhausted, but I never get enough sleep, because in the Dreaming, I’m practicing. Growing dreams. Shaping nightmares. Controlling them. I feel like doing all of this got much harder in the span of a few years, and it’s not just because I am out of practice. Whatever I make is hungry, and they never want to stay in the confined shapes I make them in- they want to take over everything. Every time there, I am both scared and grotesquely hopeful that Dream will appear, ready to stop me. But he never does

I am not successful in invading my brother’s mind through his dreams. Doubtless he knows about this ability of me, my father must have passed along this knowledge along with access to the mages he threatened me with to convince me of marriage. They haven’t come after me in any way yet, but they must be protecting my brother. I don’t find Morpheus’s castle anymore so using his library is out of question. I am grappling in the dark, no help when we’re trying to predict my brother’s plans in meetings. And we fail at it because what we didn’t count on is his insidiousness.

The disease that made the grainfields die was new. Neither the farmers nor the naturalists could figure out what was causing it. Neither could they stop it. Blackened and dead, fields of harvest stretched to the horizon as farmers wept, and then they got angry, and along with them, everyone, because what I learned later is there were rumors. Rumors about me.

Just here and there. People in villages, passing through, people in city inns, in local clubs and communities, planting words, whispers. A holy curse, they suggested tentatively. Bitter payment for serving a Witch Queen. Is this really a surprise? Like tinder the words caught fire- they confirmed the worst fears of the people. Yes, this makes sense, sooner or later holy wrath would catch up to them for having a ruler such as me, would it not? And now it has.

The ’disease’ was really poison. The insinuations that I was the cause of it all were planted carefully. And it was my brother’s doing. All this time we were wondering why he was not making his attack, supposing he was taking time gathering his strength, but he had been ten steps ahead all along.

The damage is done. There is no food, the youth are being pulled into the army, things cost three times more as supplies are stashed away by the palace for future rations, and the war hasn’t even started yet. All of it is my fault. The only reason I do not face a full-on rebellion is I did give people what I had promised, I did rule kindly, I did harvest some goodwill. There are still those who are not convinced of the holy curse, those who are undecided, those who would face whatever this is than go back to the old days. But they are almost evenly matched in number by those who want to be rid of me. We get protests, and violence, and even with my public speech making clear that this is part of an enemy attack and not a curse, I don’t convince people of my innocence. ‘You’re the reason we have this enemy!’, one shouts from the crowd. ‘As if we didn’t have enemies and wars before? At least she will fight the war for us!’, responds another, and there is a brawl, then several, then everything descends into chaos.

Chaos is all it feels like all the time now. I don’t know day from night, awake from asleep. Differences with the inner circle of my men are set aside as together we work towards a common goal- we must protect the kingdom, from both outside attacks and inside turmoil. But it’s always something, too many things, and I feel like it’s all slipping from my hands, much like the dream elements I practice with at night. Still, among all this, some work is done, some level of preparation is taken, and when in the afternoon the messenger runs into the room in the middle of a meeting, breathless with the news that our watchers have spotted cavalry headed this way, all of us sit quiet for a moment and expel a breath. This is the moment, the eye of the storm. One side has swept over us, we’re still standing. The other is coming right now. And it will be much more brutal. It will make us or break us.

My brother’s troops are huge in number, I am told, and at their pace, they will be here three nights from now. Our army is small and we could not find any ally who would lend us soldiers, so we cannot afford to spare troops. The strategy is to face the enemy at the borders rather than going out to meet them.

On the third night, I sit in my bedroom. It is the room below the tower, the one I had the architect remake for myself. I sit, and let all the exhaustion, tension and fear wash over me. It sounds like a fast process, but it is not, because there are waves after crashing waves. But then they settle into the background like a subdued roar, and what’s left sharp and vivid is the familiar ache throbbing in its own relentless rhythm- the pain of Dream’s absence. Still here, still raw, still fresh like the first day I felt it.

I shut my eyes. I gather my hands close to my chest like I’m praying. And I murmur- ‘Lord Morpheus. Dream of the Endless. Dream. I don’t know if you can hear me. I don’t know if you’d care if you could. But I am calling to you. Come to me. Be here. See me. This may be the last time. Please. Come to me.’ I say this, my secret prayer, and I think of Dream with every fiber of my being. It isn’t hard. It is what I’d be doing every moment all these months if I could afford to give myself the time or mindspace.

I speak- pray- and I’m so exhausted maybe I’m only half-awake as I send out these thoughts, and maybe I’m only imagining, dreaming Morpheus’s aura, his energy here, seeping into the room, its warmth wrapping around me, but then I look and jolt upright, because he really is here.

Months it has been since I last saw him, and in the meantime, I’ve felt so many things towards him- hurt, anger, annoyance, frustration, resentment- but right now, seeing him, on the night that will reshape my future or obliterate it, all that remains is a deep feeling of resigned truce. He is here, and that is what matters.

I stand up. ‘Dream Lord.’

‘Queen.’, he nods slightly. It is hard to tell with his ethereal beauty, but I think he almost looks as exhausted as I feel. His hair is falling wildly on his forehead, there are lines on his smooth face, his shoulders droop ever so slightly. The ache in my heart is unbearable. All I want is to go away with him, I realize. All these things- wars and politics and dreams and the enmity between us- I wish I could wipe away with a hand-swipe like his, and I then he would take me away, and us being together would be the beginning and the middle and the end of it all.

Trying to swallow the storm of emotions swirling inside me, I say, ‘Thank you for coming.’

He doesn’t say anything. He is staring at me, I realize- no, he’s drinking me in, like a desert soaking up water. I feel my body start to shake slightly. Trying to ignore it, I speak again, ‘When I had my bedchamber made here, I did it because I wanted access to the tower at all hours. I like it up there- it’s nice and quiet and cozy, but also, it provides a view of the whole capital, the whole kingdom beyond.’ I take a deep, shaky breath. ‘I- I always thought one day I would invite you to my palace, and we would go up there together to look at the queendom I made- a prosperous land, nice homes and happy people and…’, I trail off. So long ago it seems now, that dream. And in that dream, who was Morpheus to me? Just a friend? Just my only confidante? Or much more? Why did I wait to find out? Now it’s too late.

‘My lands are about to be ravaged. There won’t be much of a view anymore. So I thought, before it all burned down, if I could take a last look, and if I could have you with me when I did…’ There’s a big wad in my throat and I can’t talk anymore. Months of preparing for doom, and I have not been weak, I have not frozen in panic, I have not cried once. At this moment, all if it wants to escape out of me in a rush. I feel dizzyingly vulnerable.

Dream steps towards me. Stands very close. ‘Show me.’, he murmurs. I realize my eyes are glistening with tears. I half-laugh through that, ‘Th-thanks! There are a lot of stairs to climb, by the way, sorry about that-’

Wordlessly, Dream winds his arm around my waist and pulls me close against his body. My arms go around his neck. With his other hand, Dream pulls out his sand pouch and sprinkles sand around both of us. There is a rush of wind. I close my eyes and feel the ground disappear from beneath my feet. I hold onto Dream tightly. When I open my eyes again, we are at the top of the tower.

It is not a nice night. The sky is tinted with a reddish glow, gusts of chilly wind bring the promise of a storm. Occasionally, forks of lightning flash silver. There is no moon or stars, and we should not have been able to see anything as we look out to the queendom, but we do. All around the borders, soldiers are ready. Inside, all over, the people are on high alert. So, fires glow. Torches burn. Rows of lanterns are lit and hanging from posts. Even this high up, the wind brings snatches of faraway sounds- indistinct murmurs, neighs of horses, ruckus laughter trying to mask fear.

Dream and I are still holding each other. We look out into the dark pierced with fires and lights for a long time. We do not speak. But wordless and close, through our touches, I think we understand each other, I think we reveal each other. Each of us have been worn down with the other’s absence, and this is the moment to close our eyes to everything else that would rob our attention, and breathe in the cool relief of sharing space again.

‘I traveled many realms.’, Dream says eventually.

Traveling - I remember Lucien telling me again and again, every time, and involuntarily my arms snake tighter around Dream’s neck. I fear he’ll dissipate from between my arms, blow away like sand, and I’ll lose him again. But he only turns to me, looking down on my face, ‘I traveled, and I tried to learn. I asked about Dream vortexes, whomever I could and wherever I saw fit. But-‘, he shakes his head, ‘It’s about Dreams. I should know. But I don’t. Nobody knows. Nothing fruitful in any realm. Nothing in my library.’

I stare at his tortured face, awed. I thought he was only hiding away from me. But actually, all this time he had been trying to find a way. I remember- years ago, another bedchamber of mine, me accusing him of only doing the easy thing- so this time he did try to do the difficult thing for me. He tried to find an answer beside elimination to the Dream vortex problem.

But he did not find it.

Strangely, at this moment, the impact of this fact on me is muted, it is shadowed beneath the realization with which my blood and bones sing- far from abandoning me, shunning me away in disgust as I had feared, Dream did all this, for me. This thought fills me as rays of a blinding sun, and seeing my hint of smile and sparkling eyes, Dream is baffled.

‘Do you understand what I am saying?’, he wants to confirm, ‘It means-‘

‘I know what it means.’, I interrupt. ‘I’m just-‘, I’ve had enough of hiding my thoughts and not saying or doing the things I want to, so I reach out and place a hand on the side of Dream’s face, and say, ‘Thank you for trying to save me.’

‘But I cannot!’, his eyes are like twin stars in the dim glow of brazier-torches and even though I can’t see it I know the blue is blazing. ‘So if you-‘

‘We have had this conversation before.’, I interrupt him again, ‘And we will see, won’t we? We will see what happens. But for now, will you just be here, please? Just be with me.’ I push myself even closer to Dream. One of my arms is still around his neck, I let the other one go down to his shoulder, then back, hand caressing. I feel reckless and restless, exhilarated and quivering with unknown anticipation. For a moment, Dream closes his eyes. ‘It would not be wise,’, he murmurs, voice lowered to a husky pitch, ‘Mortal Queen, to tie your heart to an Endless…’

His eyes open again as he feels my body shake with laughter against his. First with incredulity, then with genuine mirth I laugh, and I can’t stop laughing. ‘Would not be wise?’, tears sting my eyes, and I don’t know just which of the five dozen emotions churning within me has caused it, ‘Oh. Oh, Dream, darling, you will excuse me, but it is too late for that warning. Way, way, way too late. And something tells me,’ I look into his eyes as my laughter subsides, ‘you have not been very wise either.’

‘No.’, he doesn’t take his eyes off mine, and I feel his arm wrapping tighter around my waist, ‘No, I have not.’ With his other hand, he pulls my face towards his, and kisses me.

Dream’s mouth on mine is not gentle. He possesses and commands, molding my lips to his effortlessly. I am helpless against his claim on me, and only too eager to obey. His hand is strong on the nape of my neck, and greedy and unrestrained, he drinks my kiss. He feeds it back to me, and I gasp finding his soft lips between mine. Desperate and shameless, I match him- I suck and bite on his lips, I taste his mouth, and every moment I do I want it even more. From Dream’s neck, my hand has found its way into his hair, and clenching a fistful of it, I tug so that his face turns slightly, and then I’ve taken my mouth to Dream’s face- his chin, jaw, cheek- and I kiss him everywhere, breathless and hungry, over and over.

I had never been kissed before, this is the first time. In the most secret, guarded corner of my mind, there have been thoughts- of Dream and me, us, together- but those were shapeless and formless, because I did not know how to think about any of it. I only knew to yearn.

But now I know that no mere thought could have held what the touch of his lips does to me, the way it scorches, the fire it lights; and no thought was necessary anyway, I only ever needed what I always had- the yearning.

It guides me now, and I plant kisses all over Dream’s beautiful face- his cheekbones, his forehead, his eyelids, his nose, his jaw- like I want to mark him mine. Perhaps Dream was not expecting this- his breathing is ragged, his skin is feverish against my lips, and for a few moments he surrenders in my arms and just lets me do this- trace my burning affection on him through the stamp of my kisses. Then he moves and takes charge again and my world blurs, because it is too much, this closeness and this passion, the pleasure so excruciating it feels like pain- his fervent mouth on the side of my face, against my neck, his blazing kisses on the soft skin of my throat, the graze of his teeth on the underside of my jaw, his short burst of hoarse groan when I touch my tongue into his ear the sound of which jolts through me like a lightning strike-

We have to stop, we have to breathe. My body is shivering, and even with Dream’s arms wrapped tight around me, I can’t stop. I close my eyes, try to find some calm and perspective, but I can’t, I don’t want to, all I want is Dream, again, more-

Then my eyes fly open, because there is a sound. And then many sounds. Horses, and people, and shouts and roars and weapons clanging against each other- indistinct from afar but multiplied by the mass of people and quite obvious.

My brother’s army is here. The war has started.

I swallow and look up to Dream’s face, ‘I have to go.’

He releases me, taking a few steps back. Each inch of distance hurts like a knife. Everything I’m feeling wants to spill out of me and I could scream, but it is time to cap all of it instead.

So I do, and tell Morpheus, ‘Forgive me if… if I make things go terribly wrong. If you can.’

He knows exactly what I’m saying, and says, ‘You shall see me when you make things go wrong.’, ‘when’ he says, not ‘if’. ‘You can ask for forgiveness then. Say your prayers.’

‘Oh’, I smile slightly, ‘My only prayer ever has been you, don’t you know?’

I see the pain etched in the lines of his face and in the sheen of his liquid eyes, but then he is stepping into the golden swirl of his sand and gone, and I am alone.

I let a few tears fall. Then I wipe them off, straighten my spine, and start the long climb down.

I have a queendom to save.

__________________________

Tags: @warmtoastedbread , @karlighthouse

#sandman fanfiction #the sandman fanfic #morpheus #dream of the endless #dream x reader #morpheus x reader #dream x oc #morpheus x oc #fanfiction #fanfic #fic

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juju-on-that-yeet · 1 year

Text

At My Worst (Chapter 4)

Work Summary: Thanks to his enduring popularity in the fandom, The Author pops back into existence and the egos must suddenly contend with someone they thought was gone forever coming back from the dead. No one is more shocked than Dr. Iplier, who can’t help but remember how things used to be - and slowly fall back into bad habits, despite his better judgement.

Chapter Summary: The Host is still angry that The Author’s back, and The Author still wants to dissect the past. Dr. Iplier is set adrift between two hard places, and things are about to get much harder.

Read on AO3

Enjoy!

Dr. Iplier is more or less used to The Author’s presence in Ego Inc., he thinks. He’s still put on edge by every conversation between them, still afraid that Author might try bringing up the past and dredging through everything in their past, but it’s at least a familiar feeling by now. It no longer puts him so off balance, it’s no longer so difficult to brush off (though it still isn’t easy). The rest of the egos seem well used to him as well; he’s fully integrated into the friend groups of some egos, and the ones who don’t care for him as much have learned to live with him.

All, that is, but The Host.

Yes, Host has a reason not to like Author. Yes, Host is justified in being worried about Author’s presence in the building. Yes, Host is allowed to be annoyed and angry and frustrated that he has to share a living space with a walking reminder of all his worst traits and most terrible decisions.

However.

He does not have to make it the subject of so many of his conversations with Dr. Iplier.

Every time Dr. Iplier treats Author in the clinic or runs into him in the hall, Host seems to know about it, and always has to say something about it. Dr. Iplier is sure that some of that comes from his own behavior; spending time around Author does get him a bit rattled, and no doubt Host can sense that. But that can’t be all of it, Dr. Iplier isn’t convinced that Host isn’t doing some spying via narration. Honestly, Dr. Iplier wouldn’t even mind it if Host just kept it to himself. But he never seems able to, never seems willing to take Dr. Iplier at his oft-repeated word that Host has nothing to fear. Dr. Iplier loves Host, and he understands that Host loves him back, and that the root of his behavior truly is his love for Dr. Iplier. But The Author’s arrival has turned Host into a paranoid, territorial, angry person that Dr. Iplier hardly recognizes, and Dr. Iplier’s patience is starting to wear thin.

He goes to the library one day after treating Author at the clinic, hoping to see Host, hoping to enjoy his company while he has a free moment. He finds Host standing between bookshelves with a sour expression on his face, though, as has become typical.

“Before you say anything,” sighs Dr. Iplier as he walks up to him, “Yes, I just saw Author at the clinic. He got in a fight and needed some stitches. I gave him stitches, we chit-chatted, then he left. That’s all. Oh, come on,” he groans when Host only frowns deeper, “Don’t give me that face. Host…”

“I’m sorry,” Host sighs, shaking his head. “I just…you know how I feel.”

“I do. And I sympathize, but you don’t have to keep reminding me.”

Host is quiet for a moment. Dr. Iplier comes closer, close enough to reach out and hug him if he wanted. Host lifts his head to Dr. Iplier, as though he were looking him in the face.

“I’m still worried,” Host admits, “I can’t explain why, he’s been here a while already and nothing’s happened, so logically I shouldn’t, but I still am.” He reaches out a hand, cups Dr. Iplier’s cheek. “It’s Author I don’t trust, not you.”

“You keep saying that, and yet…” Dr. Iplier grumbles, but he doesn’t pull away from Host’s hand.

Host frowns at that, but not in the same way he did earlier, not so petulant and accusatory.

“I’m sorry, love,” he says, “I’ve said it already, but I am.”

“I know,” Dr. Iplier replies, lifting his own hand to cover Host’s. “But it gets exhausting.”

“I don’t like how unsettled I’ve been,” Host admits, “But I’m not sure how to stop feeling that way.”

“Maybe if you talked to Author once or twice, you’d realize you don’t have so much to fear.”

Host’s face scrunches up in displeasure, as though Dr. Iplier’s words were a lemon he’d just bitten into.

“I’d really rather not.”

Dr. Iplier chuckles, he can’t help it.

“I figured you’d say that,” he says, “But you can’t just feel like this forever. Author’s not going anywhere; he lives here now, he’s always going to be here, and I’m always going to interact with him when he’s hurt or sick. You’re gonna have to get used to him eventually.”

“I know,” Host sighs, “I’ll try my best to, truly.” He winds an arm around Dr. Iplier’s waist, pulls him closer. “And I ask for your continued patience while I do so.”

“Weeeeeeeell,” Dr. Iplier drawls, though he can’t suppress a smirk as he puts an arm around Host in turn. “I guess, if it’s for you, then I’ll keep being patient.”

“You’re a saint, truly,” Host snarks, grinning back.

Host moves his hand from Dr. Iplier’s cheek around to the back of his head, fingers curling into his hair, and pulls him in for a kiss. Dr. Iplier lets him, kissing back with a slight smile still on his lips.

It’s not the first time Dr. Iplier has had this conversation with The Host, not the first time Host has promised to change, and it turns out to not the last time, either. Dr. Iplier tries to be patient, tries to brush past it and ignore it when it happens. It continues to be a low-level annoyance that impacts every moment he spends with Host, continues to be another effect that The Author has on the building.

So far, it’s the only real negative one. Dark also doesn’t like Author, probably for similar reasons to the Host; Author’s a reminder of the one time Dark went too far, and he’s still better at wearing down Dark’s patience than any other ego has been. Google finds him annoying and probably wishes Chrome wasn’t friends with him. His powers and devil-may-care attitude make Eric nervous, but then, so much does. Other than these things and The Host’s persistent anger at Author’s presence, the building has been much the same with Author in it.

There’s also, however, the turbulent thoughts that go through Dr. Iplier’s mind whenever Author is around. Equal parts pleasant memories and terrible traumas, past history and present conflict. Maybe Host’s reaction to Author is making it worse, keeping those thoughts always at the front of Dr. Iplier’s mind. He doesn’t know for sure. But he can’t help but feel that things might come to a head sometime soon. In what way, he isn’t sure, but he turns out to be right, and thus finds out before long.

He goes to the library one day, for once not to see Host – though that would be a welcome side effect. Instead, he’s aiming to find a good book or two to occupy him after work for the next week. He knows the shelves well by now, and knows that the books he enjoys always tend to be in the shelves in the center of the room. The center of the library also holds Host’s writing desk and typewriter, and an armchair perfect for someone to sit nearby him as he writes. Dr. Iplier manages to find a couple good books on the way there, but decides to keep going to the center anyway. For all that Host has been cranky lately, Dr. Iplier still likes to see him, and there’s a decent chance he’ll be there.

Instead, however, Dr. Iplier finds The Author at the center of the library, sitting in the armchair, legs crossed and up on the desk nearby, writing something in his notebook. Author looks up at the sound of Dr. Iplier’s footsteps, and smiles when their eyes meet. Dr. Iplier, however, can’t help but feel trepidation.

“Hey, Doc,” Author says, “Fancy meeting you here.”

“What are you doing back here?” Dr. Iplier asks.

“Chilling,” Author replies, “Writing a bit. No peeking, though, it’s not finished yet.”

“Host wouldn’t like you being here,” Dr. Iplier says, “He especially wouldn’t like you putting your feet on his desk.”

“Aw, come on, Doc,” Author sighs, “Some of the books in here are mine, at the very least I should be able to hang out here.” He does remove his feet from the desk, but he stays sitting in the armchair.

“Author–” Dr. Iplier says, coming closer, half-looking around to make sure Host isn’t near.

“Doc, relax,” Author soothes, chuckling a little, “If Host was gonna chase me out he would’ve done it already. Either he’s not here or he doesn’t care.”

“He must not be here, then,” Dr. Iplier grumbles, “Host would absolutely care.”

“He’s still bent out of shape about me, huh?” Author sighs. “I try to avoid him, but I guess “out of sight, out of mind” doesn’t really work on him.”

“You’re trying to avoid him, yet you’re in his library sitting in his armchair?” Dr. Iplier asks. He’d normally say something like this with snark, but it comes out full of nerves instead.

“I can’t not come here, Doc,” Author says, a more serious note to his voice than he’s had so far. He sighs yet again, and closes his notebook to fully focus on Dr. Iplier. “You know me, words are in my blood. This place is everything I could’ve hoped for. This is…” His expression sours just a little. “This is what Dark promised me, if I cooperated. And now it belongs to someone else. Wilford got his studio, you got your clinic, I was supposed to get this.” He gestures around himself, towards all the shelves and countless books. “I can’t just stay away, no matter what Host thinks.”

Dr. Iplier can’t help but feel a pang of sympathy. What Author said is true; back before Ego Inc. existed, Dark had to persuade all the egos to join him there, to gather everyone in one place where they could be hidden and safe – and under Dark’s supervision. It was a hard sell for everyone, so he promised to fulfill each person’s desires if they came willingly. Author was the last stubborn holdout, and by the time he finally acquiesced, Dark’s patience had already run dry…and then The Author was dead, and only The Host was left to inherit Author’s dream of a library. Ego Inc. has a magic to it that makes every one of Mark’s figments feel at home, and that magic is strongest in each ego’s favorite place. Author can likely still feel inside himself how this room was made for him, as his own safe space.

But it’s not his own safe space anymore, not while Host is here. Dr. Iplier is still worried that he could show up at any second, and Author can clearly tell.

“Geez, you’re still so worried about Host,” Author says, “Has he really been that angry about me?”

“Why wouldn’t he be?” Dr. Iplier says, “You just…you remind him of a lot of things he’d rather forget.”

Author wants to probe further, just like he always does, Dr. Iplier can see it in his face. He wants to dig into their shared history and lay everything out in the open. Usually, though, these moments happen in the clinic, and Dr. Iplier can brush past them by refocusing on Author’s treatment or ushering him out if his treatment is completed. Here, though, there’s no easy distraction. Dr. Iplier only just got here, so he can’t get away with pretending to have to leave. Author already doubts that Host will come by, so that’s not a good deterrent, either.

“What kinds of things?” Author asks, pointed. His eyes are piercing. “Like how Dark killed him, or like how we used to be together, or both?”

“Author…” Dr. Iplier begins, voice lowered in warning.

“Just asking,” Author mutters, looking away. “Just…feels like you complain about him a lot, lately.”

Dr. Iplier feels his cheeks heat up just a little. It’s the truth, but he didn’t notice until it was pointed out.

“I guess so,” he admits. Author seems unable to stifle a chuckle.

“Sorry,” he says in response to the look Dr. Iplier gives him, “Not trying to make fun of you. Things are going okay, though, right?”

“More or less,” Dr. Iplier sighs. He takes a step closer to the armchair Author’s sitting in. “He’s sorry for being so crabby, but that doesn’t seem to stop it…”

He trails off partly for lack of anything else to say, but partly because it occurs to him that it’s bad form as a boyfriend to complain about Host like this, especially to Author. But Author has a way of making Dr. Iplier into an open book, has a way of reading him just as well and getting every word he desires out of him. Even now, Dr. Iplier can’t seem to resist it.

“Sounds rough,” Author says, “And annoying. Is he like that all the time? Kinda sounds like it.”

“No,” Dr. Iplier mumbles, trying not to backpedal too obviously.

“Hm.” Author chews his lip for a moment. “Guess he still has a bit of me in him after all.”

“W-What?” Dr. Iplier sputters.

“Doing something that upsets you, apologizing, and then doing it again anyway.” He grins ruefully, but there’s regret in his tone. “I used to be real good at that. Not too surprising that Host still has that skill, I guess, but…you think he would’ve learned that by now, huh?”

“You’re one to talk,” Dr. Iplier snaps, a burst of anger going through him to hear Host be insulted.

“Yeah, but at least I figured it out,” Author counters, voice all-too-casual. “I remembered the lesson I learned from that, and I know that about myself. You think Host does? Or do you think he’d just get pissed at the thought of being anything like me?”

“Author, enough,” Dr. Iplier mutters, “I may not like hearing Host complain about you, but I like hearing you complain about Host even less.” Even if Author’s words are probably true.

“Sorry, sorry,” Author sighs. To his credit, he sounds genuinely remorseful. He thinks for a moment. “Guess we really are alike still. Even after everything I went through, everything he’s been through since…we’re still so similar.”

“Author, stop,” Dr. Iplier says, trying for a warning tone again but not quite managing it. There’s nothing to hide behind, now.

“Stop what? Remembering?” Author asks, challenging, voice taking on the slightest growl.

“Stop bringing it up,” Dr. Iplier says, unable to help taking the bait, unable to stop himself from saying the quiet part out loud. “What do you expect me to do when you say things like that? You can’t keep trying to rehash everything!”

Come on, Doc!” He stands up from his chair in his frustration. “We can’t keep dancing around this. It’s been a long time but it happened. We happened. We have to talk about it at some point!”

“How can we??” Dr. Iplier asks in return, just as volatile, “What is there to say? We did happen, but now we’re here.” Dr. Iplier looks away. The words he’s saying are unfamiliar, but the sound they make coming out of him reminds him of arguments with Author long past. He takes a breath, calms himself a little. “It’s over, Author.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Author says, words in a rush. He steps closer to Dr. Iplier, eyes glinting. “You loved me, and you love Host, and we’re the same. I’m still me.”

“Author…”

“You broke up with me, but you still cared, otherwise you wouldn’t have ended up with Host. We can still have something. We can still be something.”

Author reaches out, puts a hand on Dr. Iplier’s shoulder, warmer and stronger than Host’s hands. Maybe Dr. Iplier should shrug it away, but his head is still swimming with Author’s words.

“Edward,” Author says, quietly, urgently. “I’m in love with you. You know I still love you. Some part of you loves me too, it has to.”

“Author, I…”

“And Host has been such a pain in the ass lately, hasn’t he? You were just complaining about it. He can’t even appreciate you enough to be secure in the two of you.”

“You’re asking me to betray him?”

“But we’re the same!” Author grins, a little manic, a little sad. “He and I are two sides of the same coin. Do you want the angry one that keeps frustrating you, or the kind one you’ve had so many nice moments with, not just recently but years ago?”

“Author, this is insane,” Dr. Iplier gasps. He knew deep down Author still cared, but how could he have expected this? His hands are white-knuckle tight around his books. The part of his heart that remembers the good times doesn’t want to hurt Author, but the part of his brain that understands the reality of things wants to end this now.

“Say my name, at least,” Author murmurs, almost begs. “If you’re going to say no, use my real name.”

Dr. Iplier swallows. Author is so close. His eyes are still so piercing.

“I’m – I –”

Author waits, but Dr. Iplier can’t say a word. Once he realizes nothing is coming, Author sighs, the deepest one he’s made yet, and smiles sadly.

“That’s okay,” he says, voice quiet.

“I’m sorry,” Dr. Iplier whispers. Part of him wants to apologize further, part of him doesn’t think he should be apologizing at all. No one’s ever been as good as putting him at odds with himself as Author.

For his part, Author takes a moment to fully calm. His hand is still on Dr. Iplier’s shoulder, he’s still so terribly close, but Dr. Iplier still can’t bring himself to pull away.

“No, I’m sorry,” Author murmurs. “That was…a lot. I shouldn’t have put all that on you. I don’t…I don’t know what I was thinking.”

He sounds so raw and his words are so honest that Dr. Iplier is taken aback. The Author in his memory would never admit fault so fully.

“It’s okay,” he finds himself saying. “But you already know what my answer is. And we can’t talk about this again.”

“You’re right,” Author says, “And we won’t, I promise. Whatever happens, just…” He takes in a breath. “Remember that I do care about you, alright?”

Before Dr. Iplier can respond, Author leans forward, kisses his cheek, and walks away, disappearing through the library shelves.

Dr. Iplier is left frozen.

He knows he shouldn’t be. He should be incensed, he should be marching after Author to chew him out, or at least storming off in anger. He shouldn’t be stunned still at how much like memory that kiss was. He shouldn’t have the feeling of Author’s lips on his cheek still, warm and smooth, not chapped like Host’s. Just a little more forceful than a typical peck, the way Author’s kisses always were when given in a hurry. He shouldn’t have a hand halfway to his cheek to touch the place where Author’s lips were. He shouldn’t be running the moment through his mind over and over again if he’s not going to imagine shoving Author away right after. He shouldn’t have bright red cheeks.

He shouldn’t, but he does.

He shouldn’t, but he is.

He has no idea what to do.

Logic says he can’t keep this to himself. It doesn’t rise to the level of getting Dark to intervene, but someone has to know that Author did this. That he professed his love for and kissed Dr. Iplier. But the only person it makes sense to tell, the only person who would truly care to know, is Host. And Dr. Iplier should tell Host, he knows he should. But he already knows what would happen: Host would throw a fit, go into a rage, maybe even go after Author or do something else unwise. Dr. Iplier would never hear the end of it. And that’s just the start, that’s just if he could retell the event without letting on how it’s making him feel, without acknowledging the memories getting caught in his chest from not just the kiss, but the whole conversation before it. How the hell could Dr. Iplier ever play it off? He could never explain this to Host in a way that would satisfy him.

So Dr. Iplier ultimately decides not to tell him at all.

Choice made, he finally manages to uproot himself and hurry out of the library, books still clutched to his chest. He tries to read one when he reaches his room, but the words swim away when he tries to focus on them. He can think of nothing but Author and of that kiss and of the sinking feeling deep in his gut.

#dr. iplier #the author markiplier #markiplier fanfiction #my writing #fanfic #markiplier #at my worst #heh >:3

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starglitterz · 2 years

Text

to all the boys i've loved before.

─── CHILDE ! // your best friend.

─ a short series based on my own personal experiences with love and crushes. a sort of messy goodbye to all the boys i’ve loved before.

warning(s); writing style is quite casual compared to the other parts idk why LOL, reader's hands are mentioned to be smaller than childe's.

series masterlist.

so. childe. how on earth did you end up dating the most idiotic, most playful, but surprisingly level-headed boy in your class? sure, he isn't as bad as some of the others like scaramouche or dottore, but to say he's well-behaved would be a total lie. yet somehow, you, the 'golden student' of your class, gravitate towards him and his weird sense of humour. you don't know what it is about him that attracts you, but over a few years, the two of you become best friends.

perhaps best friends is a bit of an understatement. best friends who flirt all the time, or best friends with half-benefits of being wingmen for each other, would be a better description. it's funny, really, how you had to listen to him gushing over signora when he was obsessed with her, and he had to listen to you going crazy over diluc when you had a crush on him, but after all that you both fell for one another. (fun fact; the irl versions of signora & diluc became a couple later LMAO)

although when you think about it, it's impossible not to fall for him. seeing his smile practically lights up your world, and he always manages to make you laugh, and the two of you have so many pictures together where you're going :D and he's just -_- to annoy you by not posing properly. you just never expected him to possibly reciprocate your feelings.

you've just got off a call with kokomi and yoimiya where you talked about your feelings for childe, and both of them encourage you to confess. unfortunately, you decline, saying you'd rather not ruin your friendship, but when you see his status as online, a stupid impulse washes over you. maybe it's the fact that it's 2am, or the fact that you're willing to throw caution to the wind at this point, you'll just play it off as a joke if anything goes south, but whatever the reason, you end up texting childe and asking 'hypothetically speaking, if i asked you out, what would ur reply be?'

yeah. basically you're a coward AND a dumbass who can never ask things straight. archons, this is stupid. but then he replies almost immediately, 'yoo??? hypothetically i'd say yes' and you're like ?!?!?!? and then he goes 'hypothetically, if I asked you out, what would you say' and you reply 'i'd say yes too' and both of you are just kinda !??!?! then childe, who has such a way with words (/s), says 'wait can i ask you now' and you're like 'WHAT' and he goes 'can i ask you out now or is it like a bad time idk how to do this' and finally after a lot of flustered-ness from both sides he eventually goes 'y/n, would you like to go out with me?' and obviously you reply 'yeah childe i would'.

anyways, then childe is like 'can't believe i finally got myself a cute s/o' and you're like 'well i finally got myself a cute bf' and both of you are just kinda rambling to each other about how cool is this, and although you're not entirely certain you're pretty sure that both you and childe are equally flustered but also having so much fun.

the thing is, childe manages to say the cutest things ever while seeming so genuine that it really makes you want to spontaneously combust or fly to the moon or just hug him. like that same night he's like "wait i can finally call you cute… oh ur so fucking cute" and then goes on to explain in length all the reasons you are. and you just ?!?! then you say that you can barely form a coherent reply because you're so happy and he's just like 'that's right i always leave you speechless' please slap him. he deserves it!!!!!!!!!!

yk that thing in relationships where they ask stupid questions like 'if i was a bug would u still date me?' yeah childe does that except he says 'if i was a ghost would you still date me', and when you reply 'yeah sure' he goes 'okay good because if you said no i would haunt you'.

also literally every single time you flirt with childe he'll tease you by saying 'stop flirting i'm taken, i have an s/o' and you'll be like 'what a coincidence, i have a boyfriend but he's an idiot.' and he gets so offended,,, but then you say 'he's my idiot though' and he switches up real quick LMFAOOO

as for your friends' reactions to hearing that the two of you are a couple now when you get back to physical school, honestly nobody's surprised. you and childe are the couple that everyone knew was going to happen, even the teachers, and it was just a question of sooner or later.

being in school together is a million times more fun though! you get to spend so much more time with him, and although you've been friends for years and dating hasn't changed much between you both, it's still more fun to hang out now that it's a definite fact that he likes you too.

one time you're in the library studying, and childe stands behind you with his hands on the back of your chair and bends over to ask, "hey, how are you?" you lean back to look up at him and grin, "good now that i get to see you." and he just smiles although his face is turning redder by the second, "you're so cute." now it's your turn to be embarrassed!

also you talk to him all the time in class because you sit behind him, and you just kick his chair whenever you want to get his attention. he leans back and catches your hands with his (they easily dwarf yours and he later tells you that your hands are adorable) and you make fun of him, "are you trying to hold my hands? simp." "yeah, i am!" is his immediate reply, though he can't meet your eyes after that and you end up getting more flustered.

childe brings food for you too. it's just one of the little ways he shows you affection, remembering your favourite and bringing an extra in his lunchbox just for you, it's genuinely so sweet. you always scold him and say that you need to repay him for all this, but he just laughs it off and tells you not to worry, after all, "you being my s/o kinda means i get to shower you in gifts. does that mean you're my sugar baby though?"

his entire family knows about you too! teucer especially likes you, and randomly gifts you cans of fizzy drinks from the vending machine, which you accept wholeheartedly with a lot of gratitude. you and teucer also bond over your shared love of the game genshin impact, and childe complains that teucer gets heart eyes whenever he talks to you about all the characters he has and that childe is really getting jealous. you reassure him that he's still your favourite no matter what, and that satisfies him.

you and childe have a private discord server just for the two of you, with multiple voice and text channels although you don't even really need them. one of the voice channels is named 'childe bullying' and that's the one you've spent the most time in, talking for hours and hours about the stupidest things yet when you're together they become the most interesting stories in the world. you also use the truth or dare bot and have a ton of fun forcing each other to answer the weirdest truth questions.

also, childe is a closeted romcom enjoyer, and you swear he's watched even more than you! he finishes them all so fast too and gives really good recommendations. it is slightly embarrassing though when he tells you to watch 'love chuunibyou and other delusions' and you haven't started it but he's already finished watching 'the pet girl of sakurasou' which you recommended last week. he also reads 'spy x family'! and it's so awesome for you to finally have someone to scream about it with, it makes you so happy that he likes it and you're even happier that he actually takes your recommendations into consideration.

for your birthday, childe gets you a necklace. it's stunning, though honestly if it was from him you'd have accepted a rock. but the fact is, he put so much thought and effort into this gift, shopping at jewelry stores for almost three months and messaging all your friends to confirm what they think you'd like, and eventually buying it and wrapping it and giving it to you. just to tease him, you ask childe to help you put it on, and although he nearly explodes while doing it he finally succeeds at fixing the clasp and promises it suits you perfectly.

and every time the two of you talk and laugh together, you're certain that you love childe, and that he loves you, and for the moment, that is the most wonderful feeling ever.

a/n ; he also texts u stupid stuff that is somehow cute such as 'can we play val together (romantically)?' ahhh :(

#childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #childe fluff #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin fluff #genshin headcanons #childe headcanons

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padfoot0216 · 5 months

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Part 1 of me single handedly trying to grow the Miracle Workers fandom because I love the show.

Segment 1: Out of context quotes (Season 1)

1. Eliza - “Theres no way we can answer all of those [prayers].

Craig - I generally try and shoot for three, four a day. Although, now that I’ve got you, a teammate, theres no telling what we can do. I’m thinking 5…6…maybe as many as 6!”

2. Eliza - “There’s got to be something we can do .

Craig - I mean you can press F7.

Eliza - Does that stop typhoons?

Craig - No but it turns the sound off.”

3. Craig - “And does the debris ever dance?

Person - What?

Craig - Say the debris had lost an object, and then that object were found for it, would the debris be like *insert Craig dancing slightly*”

4. God - “But if you fail…

Eliza - Earth explodes.

God - Yeah but also…you have to eat a worm. Alive. The whole thing. The head and the butt. In front of everyone.”

5. God - “So we could explode his heart, or his lungs, *under his breath* or his penis.

Sanjay - Explode his penis?

God - Woah now that’s an idea!”

6. Abe Lincoln - “Out of my way black cat I’m late for my fun play!”

7. Craig - “Oh, no. No. Im not scared.

Eliza - You’re not?

Craig - No. I’m a bold, intrepid man with a strong mind. I’m a risk taker. I’m a big, bad…boy?”

8. Man 1 - “Oh shit my melon.

Man 2 - There goes our fruit salad.”

9. Craig - “If the world explodes then you will go down as history’s greatest murderer. Nobody wants that.”

10. Person - “This isn’t the department of anuses. We have integrity.”

11. Craig - “Thank you, and this pizza gentleman is gonna live, right?

Eliza- We are back on track.”

12. Eliza - “That necklace…why? I mean who wears bones to a massacre. I mean ugh I thought I was so hip.”

13. Sanjay - “We just watched you eat mud out of a bog.

Craig - Yeah that was clean mud.”

14. Person - “Why is the tornado staying in one place! This is impossible!”

15. [God scatting]

16. Craig - “It would make me really sad if God couldn’t read.”

17. Eliza - “Did he just turn that guy into a jellybean?!”

18. Eliza - “I am objectively bad at my job. I have accidentally killed a ton of people and I’m the leader of this group.

Sanjay - It’s true.

Craig - She leads us.”

19. Craig - “Yes! She saved us! Nooo, I have it away! He knows.”

20. Sanjay - “Okay, okay, new pitch. Uh, how about a romantic carriage ride?

Craig - Nope. Sam’s afraid of horses. Doesn’t like their eyes.

Sanjay - All right, then, uh, what about an eyeless horse? We get some crows, right?

Craig - Wait, where are you getting crows from?

Sanjay - It’s Earth. Anywhere. We get them to swoop down and peck the eyes out of the horse.

Craig - No, crows only peck out of dead things, though. So unless you’re going to get a dead horse-

Sanjay - Then I’ll get a dead horse!”

21. Eliza - “You’d go for it, right?

Craig - Well, no, not necessarily. Not if I was unsure about how she felt about me, or was scared to death if losing her as a friend, and also pretty frightened of her in general.

Eliza - What?

Craig - What?”

22. God’s Brother - “Explain cows.

God - I don’t want to do this anymore.

God’s Brother - Tell mom and dad what a cow is.

God - It’s like a big dog you can drink from.”

23. Gods Brother - “Tell then about giraffes. What’s a giraffe.

God - Tall dog with a leg for a neck.”

24. Craig - “(singing) Mr. Mop and Mrs. Bucket you live on a shelf. One is wet and one is dry and you are both my friends.”

25. Eliza - “(to Craig) Listen I’m sorry we put you in the cabinet.”

26. Person - “I’ll be honest, I’m always high, you know?”

27. Eliza - “Craig! Craig! Are you okay? Craig?

Craig - Bzzzzzzzzzz.

Eliza - *gasp*

Craig - Just kidding.”

28. Sanjay - “(pointing to a word that is clearly mammoths) We do it right here in the department of love.

God - Oh. Makes sense. Okay.

God - There sure is a lot of mammoth stuff in here.”

#single handedly trying to grow this fandom #miracle workers #tv shows #tv show quotes #out of context quotes #please watch it #it’s so good #craig bog #Eliza #Sanjay prince #Rosie #god

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altschmerzes · 1 year

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First Sentences Game!

tagged by @disappearinginq (thank youuuu!!!)

Rules: share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written less than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway.

putting the rest of this under a cut so it’s not a huge long post! decided to take a leaf out of disappearinginq’s book and use only WIPs that haven’t been posted yet so >:) enjoy. we got 4 ted lasso fics, 2 9-1-1 fics, 2 locked tomb fics, 1 now you see me fic, 1 flashpoint fic, and 1 ffxv fic. yes that adds up to 11. it’s a surprise.

i have included the opening...... Couple Of Paragraphs. Or for these lmao because as always with me, i cannot help it and it is longer than intended.

tagging some folks up front no pressure but if you want an excuse to share your stories or brag on yourself this is your cue. i dont think it matters if it’s posted fics or wips - @heavensenthale @appalachianapologies @bold-and-nosy @nativestarwrites @impossiblepluto @roguelibrarian (and anyone compelled to do this who can go ahead and take this as a sign to say i tagged you and Do It)

1. Love Stuck - ted lasso

the aromantic jamie tartt fic. jamie realizes he’s aro, and this becomes a study of his and keeley’s post-breakup friendship and how aromanticism can open doors and allow for more freedom and personal choice in relationships for non-aro people too.

The only warning that Keeley gets before Jamie shows up at her house is a text message that she knows he sent by voice-to-text because of its use of capital letters and the complete lack of emojis. It announces his imminent arrival and apologizes for the lack of warning, explaining that he forgot to do that until he was almost there, all in one long, run-on sentence without punctuation. She has just enough time to grab a cardigan, because she’d been getting kind of chilly anyway, and pause the episode of Sex and the City she had been watching before he’s ringing the doorbell.

When Keeley opens the door, Jamie bypasses any kind of perhaps typically-expected greeting. While this isn’t exactly unusual for him, what he says is.

“I’ve got great news,” he tells her, smiling like he really does have great news, which helps to somewhat offset the sense of foreboding she’d been starting to feel. “I am not in love with you. Can I come in?”

2. Wriggle Up On Dry Land - ted lasso

au where everything is pretty much the same except for the part where jamie is the fifteen year old groundskeeper’s assistant who works part-time at nelson road. proceeds approximately through the timelines/events of seasons 1 and 2 (and maybe 3 depending on how that goes).

At this point, Ted has been in England for less than forty-eight hours, he’s slept for somehow both too many and not enough of those hours, and people keep saying things to him that are ostensibly in English but have no coherent meaning he can wring from his exhausted, jet lagged brain. This, he thinks, is a reasonable explanation for why it takes him several moments to process what he’s seeing when he reaches the coaching office.

One hand loosely gripping the strap of his backpack, the other holding out his keys in preparation to unlock the office, Ted stands there for a long time and blinks. The office does not need unlocking, it turns out, because the door is already open. The door is already open, and there’s what appears to be a kid crouching next to it, doing… something to the lowest hinge with a screwdriver. The boy glances up when Ted approaches, but makes no direct acknowledgement of him and goes immediately back to whatever he’s doing with the tool.

Now. On the one hand, this is a teenager Ted has never seen before and he is messing with the door of the head coaching office. That feels like bad news. On the other hand, he is wearing a grey zippered jacket with the Richmond logo on one lapel and STAFF embroidered underneath it in cursive. That, and his non-reaction to Ted catching him mid-potential-mischief, seems to indicate maybe this whole situation is above board after all.

“Uh,” Ted says after the silent pause has gone on long enough that he officially feels like he’s being rude. “Good morning?”

3. the bus curse 5+1 - ted lasso

Five Times The Curse Of The AFC Richmond Away Game Post-Game Bus Ride Home (Mostly Referred To Simply As 'The Bus Curse' For Conservation Of Time) Ruined The Night And One Time It Tried To But Couldn’t. tl;dr bus is haunted (roy voice It Is Not) (for fun and profit the chapter titles for this are ‘twitter’ ‘illness’ ‘the heavy existential burden of captaincy’ ‘nightmare’ ‘injury’ and ‘double birthday’)

The most important thing to understand about The Curse Of The AFC Richmond Away Game Post-Game Bus Ride Home (mostly referred to as ‘the bus curse’ for conservation of time) is that it doesn’t fucking exist.

Roy is fully ready and willing to die on this hill and go to his grave still swearing up and down that the ‘curse’ is superstitious bullshit, just like the one on the training room. Sure, he’s experienced two flat tires and a radiator overheating on the way home with Richmond, which never happened with any previous team, but that’s probably because management always hired the cheapest charter possible. Sure, the driver once stopped off for petrol and simply never came back from inside the station, but that’s because the bloke apparently had some kind of epiphany and decided to radically change his life, not because of the bus itself. Sure, there have been some dozen-odd other assortment of events ranging from inconveniences to calamities that have disrupted specifically the return bus journey from away matches, but there are explanations for all of them, none of which involve any kind of curse.

4. Never Been In Love - 9-1-1

the aromantic evan buckley fic. buck has a very rocky time coming to terms with being aro, and then telling everyone about it. ft internalized arophobia, romance repulsion, found family, the power of queer friendship, and the way the episode with red the retired firefighter was the perfect set-up for an aro character realization but of course they’d never go there.

The thing about dates is that, theoretically, at some point they are supposed to go well. And it’s not like Buck’s never been on dates that he has fun on. He has! A lot of them, actually! He’s a people person, he always has been, he likes spending time around others and spending time one-on-one is extra nice - it feels nice to bask in the attention and to focus his attention solely on someone else for a while. However, there always comes a point where the woman Buck is out with starts blatantly flirting and he knows he needs to flirt back, or he just… remembers that he’s out on a date and not just hanging out with a cool person he wants to get to know better, and it all goes sour.

The end of it is, even when Buck’s dates go well, they don’t. The mere fact that they’re dates is enough to thoroughly ruin the experience, either in the moment or in hindsight, particularly once there’s an expectation that there are going to be more dates and, at some point, a relationship. And that… Buck really just doesn’t know what to do with that.

5. One-Way Mirror - now you see me

oneshot set between movies 1 and 2 that gets at explaining some of the shifts in character dynamics and digs into what it would be like for dylan to mesh with the team when they were already a team and he was on the outside. lot of focus on what happened to create such a faith in him from jack specifically.

The nice thing about setting yourself up to look like the lawman who got duped by a team of criminals just a little too smart for him is that, when you announce your intention to take a sabbatical, nobody really asks too many questions. Dylan must have played his role effectively, because not an eyelid is bat when the Agent who got too invested in fugitives that ultimately eluded him decides to take off for a while. He has the leave accrued, it’s a matter of putting in the paperwork. Fuller is a little concerned but Evans waves it through with barely a thought. Cowan swans around the office dripping smug satisfaction, and Dylan keeps his head down and swallows it.

He goes to France to visit Alma first. While things are still white-hot in the fallout of the case, the Horsemen are laying low in the area. They’ll take off for a house the Eye has arranged soon enough, but in the handful of days intervening Dylan gets on a plane to Paris. Alma deserves some answers after everything she went through on this case with him, and if it means he’s going to get arrested after all, well, so be it. The others are set up, they’ll be okay.

6. untitled fic about mercymorn and augustine in a doc labeled ‘rotates them’ - the locked tomb series

this is simply me losing my mind about this dynamic, getting somewhat at how they came up with the plan they attempted to enact in ht9.

“Do you love your brother?”

Augustine stops in his tracks, facing away from her. His body twitches in a horrid, disarticulated little spasm, like a marionette that’s been electrocuted. The question has hurt him, and she can tell.

Good, Mercymorn thinks. Pain sharpens the senses.

“How dare you ask me that.”

Mercymorn does not back down. For one thing, she does not, as a rule, back down. Ever. For another, she’d caught up to him here and brought up the subject for a reason, and it isn’t just to torment him with it.

7. One Right Move - flashpoint

time loop of the episode one wrong move where lou young died. spike relives his best friend’s death over and over and over until he can figure out how to make it stop.

This is the way the world ends. This is the way the world ends.

This is the way the worst day of Michaelangelo Scarlatti’s life ends - not with a bang, but with the echo of one.

Explosions have not been an unusual occurrence in Spike’s world to date. Moments of ground-shaking thunder and fire have come and gone for him the way a lawyer conducts depositions or a surgeon draws a dotted line indicating where they plan to cut - something that is an incomprehensible oddity to those outside the profession, but as familiar as the tree on the corner of the street you drive down every day to those inside it. While the detonation of a bomb may be the worst or most shocking thing to happen in the life of just about any random person you grabbed off the street, it’s Tuesday for Spike. Even when they go bad, they still ultimately go. He doesn’t spend hours reliving them after the smoke has cleared.

This time, he does. Laying on his side on the couch in Greg’s living room, the moment that mine went off replays again and again. Sometimes it’s hard to tell if he’s imagining it or if something is still actually exploding, because Spike can still feel himself shaking from the percussive force. Or maybe shaking from something else. It’s hard to tell, now, in this diluted, slipping evening that doesn’t feel remotely real.

8. Can’t Grow A Proper Branch - 9-1-1

5+1 of five times someone got one of the pieces indicating that buck’s childhood and family were Really Fucking Bad and one time he just straight out told someone.

Man plans and God laughs.

When Bobby was growing up, the Nash family’s next door neighbor had been a Rabbi and his wife whose older daughter had been his age. Often, when his parents were working late, Bobby would end up at the Rose house, playing with Sarah Rose or doing homework with her at the kitchen table under Rabbi Rose’s quiet supervision. Man plans and God laughs. A Yiddish proverb Rabbi Rose had been fond of. Even though it’s been decades since he’d lived in the house in St. Paul next door to the Roses, decades since he’d last spoken to the man at all, the phrase he’d used so often still pops into Bobby’s head sometimes. It even makes its way out of his mouth now and then.

From the moment they meet, it feels to Bobby like Evan Buckley is God laughing at his plans.

9. Game Over. Try Again? - final fantasy xv

the first time noctis had to use a phoenix down on each of his friends. exploring game resurrection mechanics from a narrative standpoint.

Gladio has been twenty years old for all of nine days when he dies in an assassination attempt that leaves Noctis without a scratch. It all happens so quickly that there’s no time to feel the energy in the air change before the shooting starts.

A second before the first bullet shatters what had been a perfectly fine, unremarkable afternoon, Gladio’s hand closes around Noctis’s arm, the other plants in the square centre of his back, and he’s being shoved so hard it propels him several feet forward. He’s all ready to be pissed, to whirl around and demand that the big dumb bastard explain what, precisely, his issue is when a chunk of concrete explodes from the waist-high wall he’s landed behind. Noctis isn’t really sure what he thinks is happening at first, but ‘someone is shooting bullets at me because they are trying very hard to kill me’ is not it.

10. baby heist au - ted lasso

the one where bex decides to leave rupert, rebecca decides to help her, an extremely unlikely friendship forms, and i cast spell of ‘hold a baby’ on the entire richmond greyhounds roster.

The first thing that enters Rebecca’s mind when she gets the initial message is suspicion. She stares at her mobile, squinting at the text from the number - unattached to anyone in her address book - and trying to piece together who it could possibly be from.

Hello Rebecca. I was wondering if you might have time for a coffee and a chat soon. I have something I’d really like to discuss with you.

It came through just as she was walking to her desk upon first arriving at the office, and caught her so off-guard that she’s still standing there in the middle of the room looking at the screen when the second message arrives.

Oh, this is Bex by the way. Bex Harper.

A third, not a moment later.

Well. Bex Mannion I guess.

bonus 11. baby heist au 2: 2 heist, 2 baby - the locked tomb series

modern au (i know, but bear with me) where it’s like pov. you are ortus nigenad. you are in your very early twenties. you have come to the unfortunate realization that you are in a cult and you have Fucking Snapped and you cannot be here one more moment longer. on your way out, you decided to take a pair of toddlers with you. pov. you are abigail pent. you are a professor and you live with your husband in the top floor of a duplex. a young man with a pair of little girls just moved in downstairs, and you’ve got the feeling there’s something Going On with them.

The bottom unit of the building has been empty since before Abigail moved into the upstairs of the duplex on Primis Street. She’s never met the person who owns it, and so there has never been an opportunity to ask after this curiosity, despite her desire to know if there was a reason for it. Magnus tells her that it’s probably just not a keenly desired neighbourhood, especially for the university demographic comprising most of their area, but still she has always wondered.

When someone does move into it, Abigail doesn’t notice at first. It’s such a shock the first time she hears a sound and looks out of her unit just in time to see the downstairs door close behind someone that she nearly calls after him on the spot. She manages to repress the instinct, but she calls Magnus immediately upon going back inside.

“What? Since when?” he asks when Abigail tells him they’ve finally got neighbours.

“I haven’t the faintest idea! I just saw him coming home. Didn’t see much, just the door closing behind him, but I think he’s young. There’s not even a car out front! It’s all quite mysterious.”

Things do not clear up from there, especially not once Abigail catches her first glimpse of the children.

#gav gab #tag meme #writing liveblog #i did not tag ten people i tagged five people but frankly that much is a win #pls feel free to message or ask about any of these #i always need the encouragement slkdfjsfd #so drop me a line if there's one you're excited for or smth

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lanistas · 1 year

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I've got demons, you've got scars (1x06 canon divergence; Daniel accidentally sends Maura to the Prometheus with Eyk)

also on ao3; tw for panic attacks

They’ve been searching the house for hours now, and still there is nothing, absolutely nothing that could help them find the boy, lure him out into the light. Decrepit walls, and dozens of closed doors, and utter, complete silence. Silence that is maddening. Maura cannot stand it. She feels like this is not normal, not a single thing about their situation is normal, and especially not the silence that is almost deafening in this place, a house that feels like a graveyard of her memories, all jumbled and broken. If Maura stays still even for a minute, this ugly silence is going to creep under her skin and suffocate her from within, and so she runs along the endless corridors, sprints up and down the stairs, hoping Eyk understands, praying that he follows her with every step and every turn.

He does. Always one step behind, one breath away - but he does, a constant presence anchoring her to here and now.

Another flight of stairs, and there it is. Where her father’s office is supposed to be. But no, of course there is no door, no entrance. What else could she expect of this place, this labyrinth that makes her question every memory she’s ever had? Maura touches the wall in disbelief, her fingers searching for something, anything that is going to make sense.

“No, no, this is impossible,” she whispers, tearing the wallpaper down, one tiny piece at a time. “It’s supposed to be different. My father’s office, it’s right here! Why is it not here?”

Eyk appears by her side, gently touches her elbow as her fingers claw on the wall now barren, the wall that seems strangely similar to the ship’s hull.

“Maura-”

“No!” she cries out, banging on the wall with so much force that it is sure to leave a bruise on her fist. Maura’s only hope is that the door will simply reappear if she’s stubborn enough to kick her way into the room.

No magic happens. Or maybe it does, but the result of this sorcery is not something Maura expects. Instead of an entrance or an opening, some eerie-looking black protrusions appear, sticking out of the wall and growing larger and longer with an unsettling sound. Maura jumps away from it, her back colliding with Eyk’s chest and his arms encircling her, his instinct to protect activated in a matter of seconds.

“What is that?” Eyk asks, and Maura shakes her head, having no idea how to explain any of this. She reaches out, because maybe, just maybe touching these crackling formations is going to give them some of the answers they seek.

“Stop! Don’t get any closer to it!”

Maura and Eyk turn in unison, watching as the man none of them expects to see here (and none of them trusts) runs to them, shouting. Maura takes a moment to recall his name. Daniel. Yes. Daniel. This strange man who always looks at her with such sadness and intensity that Maura feels her world shifting slightly - just a smidge, but shifting nonetheless.

Eyk doesn’t take any moments or any chances. He is quick to pull out a gun, doesn’t think twice before pointing it at Daniel. Maura shudders. How many more people have to get hurt while they are searching for the truth?

“What are you doing here?” Eyk asks, and Maura could swear he sounds angry, and nervous, and tired, so very tired.

“I followed you,” Daniel answers, approaching them with caution, his eyes darting between Maura and Eyk, not sure which one of them is more likely to listen to him, to believe his version of events.

Maura supposes he hopes it would be her. But Daniel, here, inside her memory, in this caricature of her childhood home, looking as if he is not at all confused by what’s happening, can only mean one thing. And this thing, the thought of it makes Maura wish she was the one holding the gun right now.

“You’re working for him. You are working for my father.”

Daniel’s face falls at her words. As if she broke his world into before, hopeful and naive before, and after with all its cruelty and emptiness.

“Don’t you remember?” he pleads, teary-eyed. “Don’t you remember who I am?”

Maura doesn’t remember. She tries, she really tries to place him, to figure him out, but his voice or his eyes bring no recollection or recognition. Only an itch in the back of her brain, a blurry picture of something she cannot give a name to.

Daniel moves to touch her, and then everything happens at once.

Eyk shaking his gun at him (“Stop. Stay where you are.”), not letting him get too close.

Daniel getting angrier and more desperate (“Maura, please, you have to remember… I’m not going to let this happen again.”), attacking Eyk and knocking him off his feet, taking out some kind of a control panel, fiddling with weird-looking buttons, pointing the device at Eyk while he is trying to get up.

Maura moving, rushing to Eyk’s side, reaching him just before the tablet in Daniel’s hand makes a creaky sound.

…And her eyesight betraying her, her vision going dark, and it’s as if she is floating in space, disintegrating into millions of particles and then reassembling slowly, painfully.

…And when her eyes can see again, she lies on the ground in the middle of the forest, Eyk lying next to her, holding her hand in his.

* * *

Waking up in Eyk’s memory, being transported there by some mysterious force, is far from the strangest thing that happens to Maura today. Because when they find their way back to the ship, what they see is broken glass and dusty cobwebs. Disaster. Decay.

“How is this possible?” Eyk wonders, looking around, taking in the darkness and the cold. “We are… we are on the Prometheus.”

Impossible. No… no… Suddenly every breath comes with a struggle. Suddenly all Maura is able to do is cover her ears and tremble, all that exists is dread and doubt and madness. And the voices. An echo of voices, swarming inside of her head, making her breath hitch, disorienting and confusing her.

“No… no…” she is panting, shaking her head, trying to banish these pestering voices, praying for them to stop. She can’t breathe. Her vision is blurry. She is choking on voices and whispers that are everywhere, in every crack and every corner of her mind. “I am Maura Franklin. I am not crazy. I am Maura Franklin. I am not crazy. I am not crazy…”

“Maura!” she hears Eyk’s voice as if through a haze. She looks up, tries to concentrate on him, right here, right in front of her, but it is a difficult task, and panic pierces her heart as he continues speaking to her, quiet and soothing, as if she was a frightened child. “Maura! It’s okay. I am here. You are not crazy.”

Eyk puts his hands on Maura’s forearms, presses and rubs, and the ground beneath Maura’s feet becomes less shakier, and the voices in her head stop screaming for blood.

“You are Maura Franklin. And I am Eyk Larsen. We are on the Prometheus. We have no idea how we got here, but this is not the end. We’ll find a way out of here.”

One breath after another. Eyes closing and opening. Maura calms down, exhaustion washing over her. Eyk. Thank god for Eyk.

He takes her hands in his, massages her palms, drawing tiny circular patterns next to her index finger, and then her thumb, and then her wrist. Soothing her, putting shattered pieces of her back together. Her sleeves are in the way, so he unbuttons them, and Maura, her mind still muddled from struggling with voices in her head, registers what he is doing when it’s too late to stop him.

Her sleeves, unbuttoned. Her scars, revealed, uncovered for all the world to see. Maura holds her breath as she watches Eyk, braces herself for his repulsion, his rejection, while he stares at her wrists, silent and unmoving.

This is it. The moment when he turns away from her, shuddering in disgust, because what else is she, if not mad? What else is this, if not evidence of her insanity? So, Maura waits for the inevitable.

She waits, and waits, and then Eyk traces his thumbs across her scarred wrists, his touch soft and reverent, and Maura hisses quietly, startled, not daring to believe that this man is not running away from her and her ghosts.

She hisses, and Eyk looks her in the eyes, his gaze filled with worry.

“Did I hurt you?”

Maura thinks she is about to cry.

“No,” she whispers. As if this man could ever hurt her. She knows. She knows it deep in her heart that he would never cause her any pain, and the thought scares her to the point of tears.

She doesn’t dare to believe she deserves any of this, as Eyk plants slow, gentle kisses on her scars, as his lips touch her palms and the tips of her fingers, as he places her hands on his cheeks so that she cups his face, as he looks at her with such softness that Maura feels like this is truly just a dream. A dream that she doesn’t want to wake up from.

Eyk doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t demand any explanations. He simply holds her close, and Maura feels real warmth blooming in her chest.

“You need to rest.”

Maura nods, holding back unshed tears.

"We both do," she says, and Eyk gives her the tiniest smile.

Later, when they finally find a comfortable position, lying on the floor and huddling for warmth, Maura finds courage to trace Eyk's facial scars with her fingers, to plant soft, tentative kisses on his cheeks, on his forehead and on the bridge of his nose.

Under the cover of darkness, their muscles aching and their wounds reopening, they help each other heal.

#tv: 1899 #maura franklin #eyk larsen #eyk x maura #my fic #anyone interested in some scar kissing in these desperate times?#just eyk and maura kissing each other's scars #nobody touch me i drove myself mad while writing this

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