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pedropascalonline · 4 years

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Love is fire

Maxwell Lord x Reader

Summary: Y/N is saving up to attend the university of her dreams,she is shocked to find out that her father got her a job as Maxwell Lord’s assistant. Y/N can’t stand him but soon enough they become infatuated with each other.

Warnings: Swearing.

A/N : Hello everyone. I’m an absolute simp for Max Lord. I hope y'all like this and want me to continue. Feedback is appreciated and remember to let me know if you want to be tagged.

“I’m sorry Wyndham but there’s nothing to do, I just don’t have an opening at the moment.”

“That’s okay, Mr.Lord I was just hoping that maybe there would be a place here for my y/n I have worked here for years and I was kind of envisioning the same thing for her.”

Wyndham had been Maxwell's personal driver since he was 40 and Maxwell only 20, now that he was 65 the time came for him to go home indefinitely at the end of his shift today.

“Mr.Lord, I have them on the phone for you.” said his redhead assistant Anna. Who was visibly uncomfortable in her high heels.

“Are you alright Anna?” asked Wyndham noticing her uncomfortable walk.

“Oh yes thank you, I just can’t wait for this one to finally come out, he’s making my feet swell like crazy,” said Anna as she looked down at her swollen belly.

Max rolled his eyes at interaction.

“Right Wyndham I need to take this call I’ve been waiting for it all week, I’ll see you later then. Remember it’s straight home tonight.”

“Of course Mr.Lord.”

Wyndham and Anna took their leave and left Max to do his job, which seemed like lately, it was only screaming at people.

You sighed as you wiped down the sticky counter top, you couldn’t believe that it was the fifth time a child had knocked over their drink on your shift. Every time you reminded yourself to never have children.

“Y/N when you’re done there can you please come to help me in the back ?”

“Yes, Charlie I’ll be there in a minute,” you answered.

Charlie was your boss but also your best friend. He’s the one that got you your waitressing job after you finished high school together.

His family owned the cafe where you worked. Your family didn’t have enough money to send you to the university of your dreams so you decided you’d make the money yourself. It was proving to be more difficult than you initially thought.

“What’s up?” you asked Charlie.

“Are we going out tonight or what? This week has been exhausting and I need a distraction.”

“You can say that again but unfortunately not tonight, it’s my dads last night of work and I want to be there when he gets home.” You said smiling sadly.

Charlie sensed your change in mood and hugged you.

“Hey, cheer up. It’s the 80’s anything can happen, just don’t give up yet.”

“My parents are old, and now my dad won’t be bringing back money anymore, my mum is getting tired of looking after kids all day and now I’ll have to start helping with bills. I don’t mind doing it but this just isn’t how I saw my plan going yah know?” tears were spilling down your face at this point and Charlie pulled you in tighter.

“Listen, you’ve got this. If there is anybody that can do this, it’s you. I’ve never seen you fail at anything and I won’t have you start now.”

“I love you so much,” you said as you held him closer.

“I love you too babe.”

“You ready Mr.Lord?” Asked the elderly man.

“Always,” replied Max as he got into the back seat of his limousine.

Wyndham got into the car and adjusted his mirrors for the last time. He put on his driving hat. His eyes meeting Max’s in the rearview mirror.

“Going home, Mr Lord”

Maxwell only nodded as the car took off. He’s heard those words for over 25 years and now it’s suddenly stopping. His new driver will be picking him up on Monday morning and he sighed at the thought of having to get to know someone all over again.

The city was alive with teenagers partying, adults dancing and kid’s at the movies. Sometimes he wondered...

The view of The Lord mansion came into view as the large iron gates opened. The doubted rooted in the middle of the drive-in looking especially beautiful with the recently added lights. The head housemaids idea. Agatha practically raised Max since his parents were always away for business.

Wyndham and Agatha were about the only people Max could stand. Well, and of course the exception of his assistant Anna and maybe just maybe his Gardner but he never really saw him all that much but he reminded him of one of the friends he has as a child. Heck, he didn’t even know his name. Alec maybe? Or Rodney?

Wyndham opened the door for Maxwell and swiftly closed it behind him again.

“Well Sir, it was a privilege working for you. I’ll never forget how good you were to me.” The old man’s eyes turned glasses as he took off his hat, handing it over to Max.

“Keep it please, it won’t be same in somebody else. Are you sure I can’t give you any kind of compensation?”

“No Sir please we’ve been over this, I’ve managed to put away a sum of money each month, I couldn’t take any more.”

“This doesn’t feel right Wyndham, is there anything I can do? Anything at all.”

“Well, perhaps there is one thing...”

“YOU GOT ME A JOB AS MAX LORD’S ASSISTANT?” you were fuming.

“Oh come on Y/N this could be your big break,” said your dad trying to cheer you up.

“My big break? Dad, I’m not working for that prick.”

“Hey you watch your mouth, that prick is who paid your school fees and fed you your whole life.”

“I know it’s just...I’ve never liked him, he’s so cold and have you seen him on tv? He’s so full of himself and he doesn’t know what to do with all that money and...”

“Didn’t you use to have a crush on him? You would see his commercials and go all read.” said your mother from across the room.

“MOTHER !!!”

“Listen, honey, just give it a chance. It’s good money and it will look great on any university application.”

“Your father is right Y/N just see how it goes, we would never force you to stay if it’s unpleasant.”

You never could say no to your parents and half of the time they were right.

“What if I take the job but work at the cafe at nights with Charlie?”

“You could do that but won’t that be exhausting?” questioned your mother.

“Being a personal assistant can be a lot of work especially for Mr.Lord.”

“Maybe your right, I’ll go down to the cafe tomorrow and talk to Charlie. How did you get me this job anyway?”

“Well, his current assistant is pregnant and is going on leave soon. When I dropped him off tonight I asked him.”

“And how did he react ?” you hated that you were curious.

“Well he wasn’t surprised but since it’s only temporary he agreed, he mentioned sometime about how he cannot wait to meet you.”

“There she goes all red again.” said your mother giggling.

“Stop bothering the child Lillian.” said your dad grinning at your mother. Enjoy your embarrassment equally as much.

“Okay fine I’ll do it but if he gets on my nerves I’m quitting.”

“What on earth are you wearing ?!” Charlie practically had a heart attack.

“What do you mean this is all I had? I wore it to a christening.”

You shyly pulled down the hem of your dress to get the dress to cover your knees.

“We’re you the one being christened?”

“Oh shut up.”

“Okay listen if you were leaving me to work for Max Lord then you can’t go in looking like that. They will eat you alive. It’s business not pancakes.” said Charlie as he desperately tried to put your hair up.

“What do you suggest?” You asked defeated.

“We'll start by curling your hair if you are going to wear it loose or at least pin it up. Your make up shouldn’t be all over your white-collar and it’s the 80’s your allowed to wear pants, get rid of that dress and maybe buy a pencil skirt.”

“With what money Charlie? I can’t just make a new wardrobe appear.”

“I’ll tell you what. I know this cute thrift place downtown, I’ll take you there and give you your last paycheck early. Sides you get a gift as a thank you for your service yah know.” said Charlie as he grinned at you.

If it wasn’t for Charlie you probably would be a lost cause.

“Okay fine, you and me after work okay. I need your advice if I’m gonna take over the business world.”

Both of you started laughing. Your laughter stopped however when you saw Max’s commercial on the TV that was in the kitchen of the cafe.

“Shoot I’m late, I gotta go. See you later.”

“There she goes.” Mumbled Charlie as he watched you run off.

“Being late isn’t exactly a good first impression Y/N.” said Anna as her eyes landed on you.

“I know I’m sorry I lost track of time. Has he asked about me yet ?”

“You’re in luck, he’s not in today. He’s away for business he’s out the whole week. That’s good because if he saw you in that outfit he’d probably send you home.”

“He’d send me home for wearing a short dress what a - “

“No don’t even go there, he’s not like that, he’d send you home because you have terrible taste in fashion,” said Anna as she gave you a stern look.

“This is not an easy job but I trust in you. I’ll show you the basics today and then at the end of the week you’ll be starting on your own.”

The idea was scary. Would you be able to cope all alone in a big office? The one upside though was that Max’s assistant had their own little office away from the other workers which mean nobody could stare at you the way they did when you came up.

At least you could go shopping with Charlie after work, you didn’t want to admit it but you wanted to make a good impression now that you knew you had a second chance. Maybe your parents were right. This could be good for you.

Monday morning came zooming than you would have hoped. Your thrifting with Charlie went well and at least now you had a decent enough outfit.

Why did you even want to make a good impression, don’t you loathe this man?

Maybe it was just to avoid the uncomfortable stares from your co-workers. Everyone here looked like they belonged somewhere like they had to succeed.

To be honest, you felt intimidated walking to your office, maybe this wasn’t a good idea, maybe you should just go home and -

“Ohf, I’m so sorry I didn’t look where I was going.” you apologized.

Your bright e/c eyes traveled up to meet the dark brown ones of the man you had just bumped into. It was him. Max Lord.

“That much is clear.” His words sounded forced, almost like he didn’t even want to waste his time talking to you.

“I...I -“

“Out with it girl.”

“I'm new I’m filling in for Anna.” you managed to string together a sentence while still locking eyes with his.

“Oh yes, I was told you’d be here. Uh, why are you standing about? You know where to go.”

“Yes of course.” You muttered.

“Also, why don’t you get me some hot coffee. I’ll be in my office. Knock before entering.”

And just like that, he walked off. People seemed to be in awe of him, you couldn’t blame them, so were you.

You hurried down to the cafeteria and got Max his coffee, luckily Anna had shown you how to make it. No sugar, no milk, no cream no nothing.

“Black, like his soul.” Anna’s words came back to you. She chuckled when seeing your fearful face.

“I’m only joking, he isn’t all that bad. Just don’t cross him and by no means be a smart mouth.”

You wondered what she had meant by that, why would anyone want to talk back to Max in the first place?

You timidly knocked on his office door and entered when you heard his authoritative voice permitting you.

“Here’s your coffee Mr.Max.”

He looked amused at you, not in a good way.

“Mr.Max? Honestly are you that nervous, it’s pathetic.”

“So just Max then ?” And there it was. It’s his fault he made you want to talk back.

It was your turn to look amused as he almost choked on his coffee.

“Cat got your tongue, Max?” For God’s sake why couldn’t you stop talking.

“You may call me Mr.Lord or Sir if the former is going to be a struggle for you.”

“I guess we’ll have to see.”

You turned on your heels and made for the door, ready to go stick your head in a hole.

“Were you this much trouble working at that pathetic little cafe ?” He spat back.

“Oh, much more Sir.”

#maxwell lord x reader #maxwell lord #Pedro Pascal #wonderwoman #wonder woman 1984 #pedro pascal imagine #pedropascal #dc

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mstrumpeter · 3 years

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And When He Smiles I Swear I Can’t Breathe

Alan Rubin x fem!Reader

Word count: 1,996

Fandom: Blues Brothers

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Blues Brothers characters or movies. This refers to Alan Rubin as a character in the movie, not the real Alan (although he obvsly played himself but you know what I mean)

I’d like to add that I made everyone of the band a few years younger (so the age gap between the reader and Alan isn’t that big), so he’s approx. in his early 30s.

Sophia & Lisa are two OCs created by two lovely people within the fandom.

Warnings: swearing, mentions of violence, COs having some kind of breakdown

So the next two chapters are gonna be somewhat of a bumpy ride for Charlotte. Just please stay and bear with me until the end of chapter 4, when the magic starts happening. Xx

Chapter III

The next morning Charlotte was having breakfast with her family. “I didn’t hear you coming home last night.” Her dad gave her a harsh look. “Well, yes it got pretty late. I fell asleep during the last movie and the girls felt so sorry for me they didn’t wanna wake me up!” She laughed, trying to lighten up the mood but her father just starred at her emotionless. “I’m sorry, dad. I promise it won’t happen again.”, she added in a apologising tone, which seemed to soothe him. “What films did you watch?”, her sister asked curiously. Charlotte looked at her with big eyes. What the hell? She knew her sister asked that without any ulterior motive, it was just her way but still… “You know, those classic ones. Halloween and some romcom in the end to lift everyone’s spirits.”

“Was it worth watching?” Oh for crying out loud! Thankfully the phone starting ringing, Charlotte’s mother picked it up. “Hello, Sylvia Ellington speaking.... Hun, it’s for you, it’s Lisa!” The girl quickly jumped to her feet. “May I take it in my room, please?” Her mother looked at her husband and gave her daughter a quick nod. In her room Charlotte took the phone to sit on her bed. “Lisa?” “Hiya!” “How was your evening with Lou? Did you…?” “Naah, we didn’t. But it was lovely seeing him again, I missed him so much. He’s just so shy sometimes. I mean I love that about him, I just wish he’d take the initiative more often.” “I’m sure he will eventually. It was your third date after all. Take it as a compliment that he ain’t rushing things and wants you both to be ready.” “I hope you’re right. Sooo…? You and Alan? I saw you two leave…?” “Yeah, yeah stop it right there. He took me home like a gentleman.” “BORING! Nah, I’m just kidding.” Charlotte sighed. “You know, I like him but I don’t know anything about him. Is he single or seeing anyone? Perhaps he was just trying to be friendly, taking the opportunity for a nice drink. No more, no less.” “Just ask him out on a date, pretty sure his reaction will tell.” “And what if he’s interested in a casual hook-up only? I don’t wanna make a fool out of myself.” “I’m afraid you won’t know if you don’t try.” “Hmm.. But I know someone who DOES know! Lou! I’m sure he knows what’s going on in Alan’s life, you always told me there were close.” “Yeah but.. I don’t know. It would feel strange asking Lou about Alan for you.” Both girls were silent for a moment. “Wait, I’ve got an idea.” Lisa said excitedly. “I’m meeting Lou in his lunch break at the cafe tomorrow noon. You could accidentally bump into us and join us.” Charlotte giggled. “Sounds perfect. I see you then!”

The next day Lisa opened the door to the small Soul Food Café on Maxwell Street and greeted the waitress with a warm smile. “Hi Mrs. Murphy!” “Hello sugar, nice to see you again.” Lisa sticked her head in the kitchen. “Hey Lou!” He looked up from the dishes and his face lighted up the moment he saw his girl. “Give me a minute, babe. Right with you.” Lisa smiled and chose a table at the window. She ordered Lou’s and her favourite dish and watched him as he left the kitchen. He quickly pulled off his hair net and gave her a kiss before sitting down. “Food’s already on it’s way.” He grabbed her hand and caressed it with his thumb. “I’m so happy to be back after our tour. I love performing with the boys but I felt sorry for leaving you so early in our relationship.” He softly brushed a strain out of her face when he got interrupted by someone banging against the window. Charlotte. She quickly walked inside. “Oh my God what are you two doing here?” “Well for starters, I work here.” “Would you like to join us, Charlie?” “Sure, why not, thanks. How are you two doing?” “Good thanks, we were about to have lunch.” The tall, handsome man said. The girls gave each other a look, without saying a word. Lou’s eyes wandered from one girl to the other and back again. “You two are terrible actors, you know that.” And he started to laugh. “Why are you here, Charlotte?” “I’m sorry, Lou. It’s because of Alan. I had a lovely time with him the other night and was wondering, is he dating anyone recently?” “Hard to tell, really. I mean with us touring in the last couple of months, it was difficult for all of us to meet anyone at all. I know that he used to see a woman named Lari. They also met a few times when we where on tour. Think she owns her own business, forcing her to travel quite a lot through the states.” “Are they… dating? I mean is it anything serious?” “I don’t even know if they still see each other.” “So nothing serious?” Charlotte kept pestering him. Lou sighed. “Listen, Alan’s one of my best mates but you should know that he’s quite popular with the ladies. Even I can see how good looking he is. Every concert he had some other woman showing up for him backstage and I can’t remember the last time he was in a serious commitment.” He could see the disappointment and sadness in Charlotte’s face and felt sorry for her. “But you’ll never know. Perhaps when the right one crosses his way.” “I heard you, Lou. but thanks for the effort to cheer me up.” She quickly got up from her seat “Really sorry for spoiling your little date.” And with that she left the cafe, Lisa running after her. “Charlie wait, please!” She finally had caught up with her. “I’m sorry Lou didn’t tell you what you’ve wanted to hear.” “It doesn’t matter okay? I don’t even know why I got my hopes up in the first place, we had a drink, that’s all.” Lisa looked at her friend with compassion in her eyes, grabbing on of Charlotte’s hands. “I guess, Alan’s been the first one who showed any interest in me for quite some time and it felt nice.” She looked down at her hands, fiddling around. “Honey I’m sure someone will come along eventually.” “Right, and as soon as the meet my dad they’ll keep running away.” “Don’t you think it’s time to move out? Sophia got her own place, too.” “I already told you, I can’t. It’s complicated. I don’t expect you to understand.” She freed herself from Lisa hand and started walking down the street. “Charlotte!” But she started to walk faster until she ran, disappearing in the crowd on the streets. Lisa went back inside the cafe and sat next to Lou, who softly put his arm around his girl. “I’m sorry for what I’ve said, I didn’t think she’d take it so hard.” She gave him a quick snog on his cheek, reassuring him that her friend would be okay, though she couldn’t stop thinking about her and how hurt she was.

Charlotte got home around dinner time and found her mother in the kitchen preparing food. “Mum?” She leaned against the worktop, resting on her elbows. “I’m thinking about moving out.” Her mother dropped the knife and looked at her concerned. “This again? Don’t let your father hear about your ideas.” “What ideas?” The two women were startled and turned their back to face Charlotte’s father, who had gotten back from work. “I still wanna get my own place, dad!” “I thought we’ve talked about this way too often, Charlotte.” “But I’m old enough, I could get a job and pay for the rent of a little room myself.” She watched him pouring a glass of whiskey and taking a sip. “Dad?!” He crashed the glass down onto the table. “This still ins’t open for discussion! As long as I’m paying for your education, you stay where I can keep an eye on you!” He said angry. “No one’s asking you to pay.”, Charlotte mumbled away and was about to leave the room. “What did you just say?” “Nothing!… Right so perhaps I don’t wanna study law.” “Don’t you forget that your mother and I had to go through a lot of trouble to get you that college place, considering your poor grades.” He walked towards her with big steps, shaking his finger at her. “Well, would have been nice if you had asked me before.” “Do you even listen to what you’re saying?! Have we left our manners at the door once more?” He was furious and discounted his glass from the kitchen table in one motion. Charlotte hated seeing him like this and it was one of those moments when she had to decide whether to retreat, displaying her fear of him or stand her ground, and for the first time ever she decided for the letter. When her father got closer, she could feel her knees began to buckle, she was trembling. Suddenly he grabbed her throat, pushing her head up and forcing her to look at him. “Once in your poor, miserable life you got the chance to do something useful with it. And we’re sticking it up your erse. Show some fuckin gratitude. If it wasn’t for you mother you wouldn’t even be standing here!” He yelled at his daughter wrathful and she felt his spit on her face. She knew what he meant by that. She knew that her father didn’t want her, when her mom, his girlfriend at that time, told him she was pregnant with his kid. “And clean up this mess! Your mother doesn’t have to do everything around here.” He added before he left hold of her and stormed out.

As it got dark Charlotte checked on her parents in the living room, both had fallen asleep in their armchairs. She left the house for a walk, which would hopefully get her mind off her toxic parents. She wasn’t living far away form Chicago city, so eventually she bought herself a beer at some street shop and set down on the pavement between two parked cars, hugging her knees. I will be stuck with them until I’ve finished college. If I finish at all. If he doesn’t care for me why doesn’t he let me go. It wasn’t the first time that night when she thought about just leaving, running away from her family.

And then she heard it. His laugh. His warm and soft giggle. She looked up but couldn’t see no one. There it was again. And then she saw him. He was walking on the other side of the road. A lady at his side, one arm tugged into him. She was absolutely gorgeous, tall, long, straight blond hair, wearing heels, a mini skirt underlining her stunning long legs and as it seemed his jacket hang over her shoulders. They both were laughing and smiling at each other. And Charlotte felt a deep, sharp pain in her heart. She was purely crushed seeing him with another woman. And before she knew it they were out of her sight, disappearing behind some cars.

She laid her head on her arms, squinting her bleary eyes. She wasn’t angry with him. But with herself. Disappointed she had left him into her heart so early, without knowing so less of him. And she felt stupid, like a teenager for getting her hopes up only because she liked him, only because he was nice to her. She felt stupid for believing a man like him could be interested in someone like her, when he could be with an actor or a model, literally anyone. And a single tear ran down her cheek before she started weeping into her arms, trying to wash away the entire day.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

#Alan Rubin x fem!Reader #Alan Rubin x Reader #blues brothers #blues brothers fanfiction #blues brothers fandom

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wonkasmissstarshine · 3 years

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The Chocolatier’s Rose {Willy Wonka x OC} Ch.15

GIFs not mine. Credit go to owners.

Summary: Rose is about to marry Harry, but luckily, Charlie and Willy come to her rescue.

Tagging: @holdmeicant @willymywonkers @sleepiesapphicxoxo

Rose stood in front of a mirror in her dressing room, while Harry's sister, Catherine, adjusted the veil that was secured by Rose's braided updo. She was still crying. She was surprised she still had tears left to cry.

Catherine rolled her eyes at Rose. "You have no reason to be crying" She said with an irritated tone. She never understood what Harry saw in this girl. Catherine wished that her brother would end up with another rich girl, but no, he had to pick a poor girl.

Rose glared her eyes at the girl through the mirror. "You don't know what I've been going through these past two weeks!"

"Well you're about to get married, to my brother no less. So, you better start perking up!" Catherine spat. She then muttered to herself, not caring if Rose heard her or not. "My brother could have done so much better than you..."

That felt like a kick in the stomach. Maybe Catherine was right. Who would want to be stuck with Rose Bucket for the rest of their life? Not even Willy wanted to be with her...

"Alright. Are you ready?" Catherine asked, the bitterness still obvious in her tone. She handed the bouquet to Rose. Her favourite flowers weren't even present in the bouquet. It was abundant in lilies and daisies, but none of the very flower she shared her name with. "And wipe that frown off your face! We don't need you ruining all the photos!" Catherine complained.

Geez, when it comes to spoiled families, the Roberts definitely take the gold medal. The Salts would take silver, but knowing Veruca, she'd be demanding to take the gold one.

******

This wasn't the wedding Rose ever envisioned herself having. The music was boring, she'd definitely have the Oompa-Loompas singing as she marched... no, no... danced down the aisle.

And she didn't want to get married in the church. She wanted to get married in that luscious and colourful candy meadow, with a chocolate waterfall as the backdrop for her wedding photos.

She wouldn't be wearing a white dress. She'd be wearing one made of pink and it would be puffy, something that reminded her of cotton candy. And a tiara with candied jewels on her head.

And of course, Harry wasn't the groom in her dream wedding. Her perfect groom would smell like peanuts and chocolate. He'd be dapperly dressed in that velvet red coat, purple gloves, and a top hat. His eyes would be violet, and he'd have the haircut that Charlie found funny, but Rose absolutely loved.

It should be Willy waiting for her on that altar, not Harry.

And the most important thing, Rose's family would be here. There wouldn't be a room full of stuck up, spoiled, snotty snobs silently judging her because of her lack of wealth.

Harry's father walked her down the aisle, and Catherine acted as her only bridesmaid. This definitely wasn't right. Mr Bucket should be walking Rose down the aisle, and Priscilla and Eleanor should be her bridesmaids.

Rose finally joined Harry at the altar. He was smiling at her, but Rose couldn't meet his eyes. The minister looked between the soon-to-be wed couple. He addresses the guests first. "If you'll all please be seated. The ceremony is ready to begin"

The guests sat down and the minister spoke again. "We are gathered here today to celebrate the marriage of Harold Maxwell Roberts, and Rosalie Genevieve Bucket. Before we continue on, is there any reason why these two should not be wed"

"Please, someone speak up!" Rose thought hopefully. No one was objecting. Although, some people looked like they wanted to speak up, but Harry glared at anyone who dared to even blink.

"Let's move on" the minister said, after moments of silence passed. "Can the bride and groom please face each other?" Harry and Rose turned to one another. "We'll start with vows first. Harry, I believe you would like to share first?"

"Yes" Harry said with a curt nod. He pulled out a piece of paper with more writing on it that Rose would have liked. How much could he possibly have to say about her? It's not like he truly loved her!

Harry started reciting his vows. "Rose, it was the very first day I walked into that quaint little pie shop, and I saw you sweeping up the floor. Then you looked at me, and I was immediately taken away with your beauty..." Rose zoned out as Harry droned on.

What was she supposed to say when it came to her vows? I'm only marrying you because I've given up on love.

"And that's why I'm happy, that finally, on this day, you'll finally be mine. And I promise that you will be forever" Harry finished off. Even though Rose was barely paying attention, she did notice a couple things.

One, not once did Rose hear the word 'love' in Harry's vows, and two, she didn't like the way he said 'mine forever'.

If Rose wasn't regretting this before, she definitely was now. But she was too deep into this now, and there was no one here to save her.

The minister turned to Rose. "Do you have anything you'd like to say?"

Rose shook her head and muttered a quiet, "No"

"Very well" the minister nodded. It then came to the part Rose was dreading. The 'I do's'. "Harry, do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold, to love and to cherish, until death do you part?"

Harry smiled and nodded, an dark glint coming to his eyes. "I do"

"Rose," the minister started, and Rose swallowed the lump in her throat. "Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold, to love and to cherish, until death do you part?"

Rose's heart beat uncontrollably. Tears were brimming at her eyes. She looked at the seated guests. She didn't like the way they were staring at her.

"I..." Rose's answer was halted when something crashed through the ceiling of the church, making everyone scream in fright. But Rose didn't scream. No, instead she genuinely smiled for the first time in two weeks, when she recognized the glass elevator and the two people inside it.

It was Charlie and Willy. They had come to her rescue.

"What is the meaning of this!?" Harry demanded angrily.

"Charlie! Willy!" Rose exclaimed as the two of them stepped out of the elevator. She grabbed the skirt of her dress and lifted it up so she could run to her two saviours.

"Rose!" Willy smiled at her. "I do hope that we're not too late, because I—" He was cut off when Rose wrapped her arms around him. She held onto him tightly, like she was afraid to let go of him. Her eyes were also closed as she rest her head against his chest.

"I'm glad you're here" She whispered to him.

"You are?" Willy's arms were held out at his sides, like he was afraid to hug her back. He wasn't used to hugs. Especially affectionate ones like this.

"Yes" Rose said softly. "I missed you"

And that's all Willy needed to return the embrace. One arm wrapped around her waist, while the other hand gently cupped the back of her head. His chin rested on the top of her head. "I missed you too, starshine"

Rose opened her eyes, and found herself looking at Charlie, who was grinning brightly at them. "Thank you" She mouthed to him.

"Can someone explain to me why these two are ruining my wedding?" Harry demanded, pointing accusing fingers at the two uninvited guests.

Rose, letting go of Willy, now had the confidence she needed to go off on Harry and his stupid family. "This isn't a wedding anymore, Harry. And you know why? Because I'm no longer marrying you!"

Harry let out a maniac laugh. "Yes, you are. You're going to marry me because I've said so. I've already said I do. Now, you just need to say it, and then we'll be married"

He tried grabbing Rose, but Willy stepped in front of her. "You better not touch her" He warned.

Charlie stepped forward as well. "She doesn't love you. She loves Mr Wonka, and Mr Wonka loves her"

"Really?" Harry scoffed. "They've only really known each other for a day! You can't possibly love someone after only a day!"

Rose glared at him. "That's a bit hypocritical of you, isn't it? Because ever since they day you met me, you've been asking me to marry you!"

"W-well," Harry stuttered, like he was unsure of how to respond. "That's because I love you, silly!"

"Love me!? You don't know anything about me!"

"Of course I do! I know you better than anyone!"

"Oh, really?" Rose challenged him. "Name at least five things you love about me"

"Well, you're... beautiful" Harry answered with a shrug. And that's all he could come up with.

"Rose isn't just beautiful" Willy spoke up. He gazed over at the girl. An adoring smiled danced across his lips. "She's kind, smart and imaginative. She's got the most angelic laugh. You just want to think of ways to make her laugh so you can hear it over and over again. She radiates a scent of vanilla, cinnamon, and chocolate. You can look her in her beautiful eyes, and find yourself getting lost in them for the rest of your life"

Rose was speechless as she heard Willy say those things about her. She had never heard someone, outside her family that is, say such kind things about her.

"There's so much more to Rose than you could possibly imagine" Willy added as he grabbed her hand that wasn't still grasping a bouquet. "And that's why I fell for you, starshine, and I'm sorry for everything I said about....f....f..."

Rose smiled at him. "It's okay, Willy. I forgive you"

"Rosie," Charlie spoke up, making Rose look down at him. "We're going to see Mr Wonka's father. Would you like to come with us?"

"Of course, I would" Rose said.

"No, you're not going anywhere!" Harry protested. "I want you as my wife! And I always get what I want!"

"You know, Harry, you remind me of a spoiled little girl. Do you know what happened to her? She got thrown down a garbage chute by squirrels!" Harry furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, and Willy laughed at the memory. "Now unfortunately, there's no squirrels or a garbage chute for you to be thrown into, but I can do this..."

Rose chucked the bouquet at Harry, hitting him square in the face. All the guests gasped. But Rose didn't stop there. She also reached down, grabbing the skirt of the dress, and ripped off a large piece of it.

"My dress!" Catherine shrieked.

"And one more thing" Rose said, an amused smirk coming across her face. She went over to the table where the cake was. It was a large cake, but it was light enough for her to grab and carry. She brought it over to Harry.

"Don't you dare!" Harry warned her with a glare.

"Oh no, I'm losing my balance" Rose said sarcastically. She purposefully lost her balance, tipping the cake over and making it fall on Harry. "Oops. I'm so clumsy!"

Charlie and Willy stifled in their laughs as all the other guests went into a frenzy. Rose had a pleased smile on her face as she entered the elevator with her brother, and the love of her life.

"That was brilliant, Rosie" Charlie said.

"That's my starshine" Willy said, smiling proudly at Rose, and grasping her hand in his own. Their fingers entwined, fitting together perfectly like two pieces of a puzzle.

Willy reached over and pressed a button. The elevator doors closed and then they were off.

#willy wonka x oc #willy wonka x reader #willy wonka #rose bucket #my oc #rose and willy #the chocolatier's rose

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ds-towhoknowswhere · 4 years

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Nightmare Headcanons by wrath-is-a-deadly-sin

I have a few headcanons for people’s nightmares and their reactions after - if I give you a few would you help me with some of the characters I’m less familiar with? Either way here is some of my headcanons (will be long, really long sorry, thought about this a lot) (not sure if this could be considered close to canon???)

Ey! These are really good! And more than happy to help with the ones you couldn’t figure out. =) And hey, since nightmares are a loose canon, anything kind of goes. (And honestly some of my own headcanons are like this too so no worries!) Alrighty, let’s get this headcanon show on the road!

Wilson - He’ll wake up and have a very violent reaction and will attack anyone who tries to calm him. It’s sometimes necessary to hold him still until he calms down and realizes where he is. His nightmares are often fights where he is surrounded by the others dead bodies

Willow - She will wake up with a gasp but quickly realizes it was a nightmare and likes fire and someone to talk to her so she doesn’t think about it. Often about being alone and in the dark being hunted by shadows

Wolfgang - Wakes up with a shout and will shake for a while. Finds it best if people talk to him, doesn’t like contact until he’s back in the present. Dreams of his time in service or violent battles in The Constant.

Wendy - Dreams of her sister’s death or trying to bring her back with the flower but it not working no matter what she does. Likes to see Abigail to remember her sister is by her side. Her reaction is often waking up with tears very quietly. Will accept hugs from those she trusts

WX-78 - WX-78 doesn’t really dream much. Though when they do it’s usually dreams of dominating the world. So, probably no nightmares save maybe frying their circuits in water. They just deal with their nightmares on their own because they don’t need help from any organic life forms. They just wake up quietly and go about their business.

Wickerbottom - Rarely dreams when she sleeps as she is usually too tired. After what few nightmares she has she will sit by the fire and try to read and drink a warm drink of some sort. Usually of losing everyone in fires or of bad situations in The Constant. Wakes up quickly but not violently

Woodie - Woodie has nightmares of losing Lucy. Both how she is now and before she got turned into an axe. He hates remembering how sick she was. Usually feels better by just talking with someone or Lucy herself about his nightmares. Also has nightmares of losing everyone. He tends to wake up shouting or gasping before composing himself.

Wes - Wakes up silent and with no visible reaction other than increases breathing, likes physical contact and quiet talking. Often dreams of when he was trapped in the throne room.

Maxwell - Nightmares of what happened to get him here and of Charlie, Charlie dying, killing him ect. And possibly PTSD of the train crash he’d rather just forget. There’s a lot of things he wish his nightmares wouldn’t remind him of. He tends to like coping on his own terms since as usual doesn’t want to show weakness. (Which hurts him in the long run with bottling things up.) He tries to keep his reactions as quiet as possible but he does tend to wake up screaming. (William is about the same though he tends to be more open with talking if coaxed into doing so. Mainly by Wilson.)

Webber - Dreams of their friends and found family dying or getting hurt. Likes to find and hug whoever died and often wakes up crying and sobbing.

Wigfrid - Nightmares of when she or her friends have died. Failed battles are never fun to remember, especially with what happened. Tends to feel better by doing a patrol around the camp and doing some practice sparring. It gives her assurance that she cane protect her friends. Wakes up with a gasp and shaking like crazy.

Warly - Warly has nightmares of never seeing his maman ever again or They possibly doing something to her. Talking this out with someone usually helps or cooking a meal to get his nerves to calm down. He’s doing his best not to lose hope. His reactions are quiet but he does freeze up when he awakes.

Wormwood - Likes to watch everyone else in the camp to remind themself everyone is still ok, will often sit by a tree and just watch in silence, will accept and enjoy company but doesn’t like to talk until they feel better.

Winona - While she is stoic about it, she still does have nightmares about what happened at the factory, though its worse in the nightmare because she’ll see Genny and the rest of her co-workers dead and Nightmare Monsters everywhere. She tends to cope with building things to get her mind off it. She sits up quickly, gasping when she wakes up, her body trembling.

Wortox - He has nightmares of unintentionally killing everyone in the camp with his powers. He usually calms down after checking on everyone but it’s something he does worry about a lot. Usually doing some nice deeds around the camp can calm him down or playing with fireworks with Willow. He tends to wake up teary eyed and shaking.

Wurt - Wurt has nightmares of being turned on by the others. She needs assurance that this is not the case but it is something she still worries about. She feels better after Wickerbottom reads some stories to her. She’ll usually wake up crying and wanting a hug.

And that should do it. Thank you so much for the submission! Hope you all enjoy and much loves to wrath-is-a-deadly-sin for their submission!

#don't starve #don't starve together #headcanon submission #wrath-is-a-deadly-sin #To Who Knows Where #submission

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badchoicesposts · 5 years

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Don’t Dream It’s Over Chapter 6

Series Summary: Liam and Ali thought that their relationship was perfect, but their whole world came crashing down when Constantine called him back to Cordonia. Four years later they meet again at Liam’s bachelor party, determined to make things between them work even if it isn’t always easy.

In this AU, Liam and MC (Ali Moonessar) dated for a year in New York while Leo was still crown prince. They broke up when Constantine asked Liam to come back to Cordonia, but they meet again at Liam’s bachelor party before the social season. The story will contain flashbacks, which will be italicized, of their relationship and follow them as they try to navigate the season with Ali as a suitor. I’ve messed around with the timeline a bit so that it fits the story better. I’ve also added in a few OCs of my own.

Pairing: Liam x MC (Ali Moonessar)

Word Count: 3,665

Song Inspiration: Old Money- Lana Del Rey

DISCLAIMER: Some of Bertrand’s dialogue is taken from TRR Book 1 Chapter 4. I’ve also changed up the timeline of the social season a bit to fit my story better. I based it off of some research I did on the British Social Season.

Taglist:@flowerpowell, @kingliam2019, @ao719, @emceesynonymroll, @hopefulmoonobject, @dcbbw, @qammh-blog, @liamxs-world, @drakesensworld, @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction, @timmagickfrog, @lauradowning29

A/N: This is my first time ever posting a fic. Please let me know if you enjoyed it and would like to read more. I thrive on validation, lol. Thanks for reading!

Catch Up: Masterlist

Ali and Liam were two very different people. There was no doubt about it. They were crazy about each other regardless, but at first glance anyone would believe that they had absolutely nothing in common.

Liam rivaled Luca for the title of the most well-rounded person she had ever met. He was tall, well dressed, and well respected by everyone he met. His blond hair was always annoyingly perfect, even when it had been slept on for the full seven hours of sleep he got every night, and he was good at everything he tried to do. He worked out five days a week and had a natural charm that drew people towards him wherever he went. Liam slept on silk sheets, drank expensive liquor and, worst of all, was a morning person. He was always up early, eager to start his day and be productive. He was typically easy going, but he could take action and control a situation effortlessly when he needed to.

Ali, on the other hand, was the exact opposite. She barely reached five feet tall in the right pair of heels and spent most of her time in sweatpants or leggings because of the insecurities she had about her body. Her workout routine consisted mainly of walking everywhere she needed to go, and she had terrible social anxiety. She had no constant sleep schedule, and at this point, she was practically nocturnal, only being able to get in small amounts of sleep during the day due to her insomnia. She had found her current bed sheets from the discount bin of a department store, and the most she ever spent on alcohol was twenty dollars for a bottle of tequila. She had perfect grades, but she was still constantly stressed about them.

Liam was put together, and on most days she was a hot mess. When she says the words “trust me, I know what I’m doing” there’s about a seventy-five percent chance that she has no idea what she’s doing. However, when he said the same words, she never once doubted him. That is until he decided he could repair the clogged drain in his kitchen sink on his own. Her suspicions were confirmed as she watched the Prince of Cordonia, his nice dress shirt soaked in water, fiddle with a pipe, determined to be “normal”.

“Love, maybe you should just call someone,” she said, raising her voice slightly so he could hear her from where the upper half of his body was lying under the sink.

“I can do this,” he called back, irritation evident in his voice.

“Sure you can,” she mumbled under her breath, taking a seat on a stool in the kitchen. “Have ever even looked at a pipe like that before?”

The banging noises she heard from under the sink was her only response, and she rolled her eyes as she texted Drake to tell him to contact the building’s superintendent. A few minutes passed by in silence before there was a sudden popping sound and Liam’s angry voice filled the room. Ali looked up to see him emerging from under the sink soaking wet, while more water pooled onto the kitchen floor. She wanted to be mad that he had made the situation worse and not given up when he realized that he didn’t know what he was doing, but the sight of him before her made her burst out laughing.

“It’s not funny,” he said, sending a glare in her direction.

“Yes, it is,” she replied when she had finally managed to calm herself down.

He narrowed his bright blue eyes at her, trying his best to stay mad, but he knew that it was a losing battle. He knew that he looked ridiculous.

“I guess we can cross chef and plumber off of your list of potential jobs,” she said, starting to giggle again as she remembered their first date where he tried to cook for her.

“Now stop the water and clean up that mess. The super will be here in the morning.”

Liam watched as his girlfriend ran out of the room before he could get another word in.

~~~

Ali frantically walked back and forth between her bed and her closet, Lana Del Rey’s Old Money playing softly in the background. It was 12:57 AM and Liam’s plane would be leaving in less than ten hours. She had been packing and unpacking her suitcase for the past two hours. Every time she made up her mind to go, something told her to stay, and every time she made up her mind to stay, something told her to go. She looked down at the text on her phone from Maxwell giving her the flight information and started piling things into her suitcase again. She was just about to close it and try to get a few hours of sleep before the flight when she looked over at her nightstand and saw the framed picture of her and all of the Larson siblings that she always kept there. They all had their arms wrapped around each other and were smiling happily into the camera.

“Nope, not going,” she mumbled to herself, hastily pulling things out of the bag and dropping them on the floor.

The sound of a throat clearing behind her caused her to stop what she was doing and turn around.

“Oh, hey, Luc. I didn’t know that you were still up,” she said.

“Yeah, I was just about to turn in for the night when I saw your light on. I assume by this mess that you haven’t made a decision yet.”

“I’m not going,” she tried to say firmly.

Luca sighed and made his way further into her room.

“You should go,” he said softly.

“I should?” Ali asked, sitting down on the bed.

“If a part of you didn’t want to then you wouldn’t be having such a hard time making the decision. If it all works out you could have everything you’ve ever wanted. You owe it to yourself to go.”

Ali groaned and dropped to her back, her legs still dangling off the side of the bed.

“What if we’re too different? It’s been forever since we were together. What if it doesn’t work out? What about everything here?” she asked, staring up at the ceiling.

Luca walked over to her and grabbed both of her hands in his before pulling her back up into a sitting position.

“You worked so well together because you were different. You balanced each other out. You made each other happy. Besides, if things still don’t work out, you’ll always have a place to come home to,” he said softly.

He kissed her forehead lovingly before leaving the room, the door closing behind him quietly.

~~~~~~~~~~

Ali was clutching the handle of her bag tightly in her hand as she ran as fast as she could through the airport, cursing herself for being so out of shape. After speaking with Luca she still hadn’t been able to properly make up her mind until the last possible second and now there was only five minutes until the plane left. She caught sight of Charlie’s red hair and sighed in relief when he turned around and saw her.

“I knew you would come,” he said, a bright smile breaking out across his face. He was standing next to Bastien, both dressed in grey suits.

“Yeah,” she huffed out, trying desperately to catch her breath, “Back on duty, I see.” She motioned to his uniform with one hand, the other clutching her side as she gasped for air.

“Yes, but we can talk about that later. There’s someone waiting for you on that plane,” he said, motioning for her to board the plane.

“Right,” she said, taking a deep breath and beginning to walk slowly.

Bastien and Charlie were following closely behind her, and the reality that she couldn’t turn back was now hitting her. Upon entering the private plane she saw Drake, Ben, Maxwell, and Leo all lounging casually on large leather seats. Liam had been anxiously pacing up and down the aisle but had immediately stopped at the sound of their footsteps. A large smile broke out over his face at the sight of her.

“You came,” he said.

“Yeah, I did,” she said, fighting her own smile as she launched herself into his arms.

He held her tightly and for a moment all of the doubts she had about leaving New York disappeared. Leo and Maxwell shared a pleased look as the two took their seats next to each other. The plane began to take off, and Ali felt surprisingly calm as she looked out the small window.

“Are you excited?” Maxwell asked her happily, pulling her out of her thoughts.

“Um, yeah… that’s one word for it,” she said awkwardly.

“You’ll be amazing,” Liam said, bringing her hand up to his lips and gently kissing her knuckles.

“You two are disgusting,” Ben joked, prompting a laugh from the group.

They were well on their way to Cordonia now and Maxwell took the opportunity to begin explaining to her what would be happening when they arrived.

“For the next few weeks you’ll stay at the Beaumont estate in Ramsford with my brother Bertrand and I,” Maxwell said.

“Is your brother anything like you?” Ali asked him.

Drake scoffed slightly, causing Ali to raise her brows in question.

“What Drake means is that Bertrand can be kind of… strict. He’s not exactly happy that I’m bringing in a suitor that doesn’t know anything about court or nobility,” Maxwell said with a cringe, “But that just means that we’ll have to spend the next few weeks turning you into a proper lady of the court.”

“Sounds like fun.” Ali tried to force a smile on her face, but it came out as more of a grimace.

“That’s the spirit!’ Leo laughed, ending his sentence with a good-natured clap to her shoulder.

“Once the social season starts, we’ll be spending most of our time at the palace. Most of the nobility live there during the season, including the ladies vying for Liam’s hand,” Maxwell continued.

“Yeah, living under one roof makes it easier to attend the rose ceremony later,” Drake mumbled under his breath.

Ali snorted before stopping to pull herself together.

“Sorry, that probably wasn’t very ladylike,” she said sarcastically.

“You’re no lady of the court,” Drake said.

“I’m going to take that as a compliment,” she said.

“Trust me, it is.”

The two locked eyes for a moment, having a silent conversation. Drake had played a part in convincing her to come, but she also knew how he felt about court and the people there. He always said that Liam was the only one of them that was worth a damn. She knew that Drake wanted to protect her, but there was also a certain edge to his voice as he said those words that she couldn’t quite place.

“Drake,” Liam said, a warning tone in his voice. Ali looked between the two for a moment before Maxwell broke through the tense silence.

“As I was saying, the social season typically lasts for about five months. There are usually a few large events like balls that the entire court attends and there are some smaller events like dinner parties that are invitation only.”

“Not gonna lie, that sounds like… a lot,” Ali said.

“Trust me it is,” Drake said, running his fingers through his hair.

Everyone began to break off into their own conversations and Ali turned to Liam to find him already looking down at her.

“Liam, I’m kind of scared,” she said, chuckling half-heartedly.

She looked down at her hands and began anxiously picking at the skin on the side of her nail.

Liam tilted her head so that she was looking up into his eyes before moving his hand to cup the side of her face, his thumb gently stroking her cheek.

“I know, but I meant it when I said that you’ll be amazing. This is a big adjustment, and I’m afraid I may not be able to be with you as much as I would like to, but you will always have my support. You are the strongest and most capable woman I know, Ali. I don’t doubt for a second that you’ll do great things,” he replied.

Ali smiled and leaned into him as their lips met in a gentle kiss. She rested her head onto his shoulder and felt her eyes closing before falling into a dreamless sleep.

She opened them a while later to the feeling of Liam shaking her awake. Her head was still on his shoulder and their fingers were entwined together. At some point during her nap he had removed her glasses and was now trying to hand them to her.

“We’ll be landing soon. If you look out the window you’ll see Cordonia,” he said with a smile.

She turned her head sleepily and gazed out the window at the land below them. In her still half asleep state, she could just make out twinkling lights against the landscape.

“Wow.”

“Home sweet home,” Drake sighed, looking out the window as well.

Ali groaned as she watched everyone begin to exit the plane one by one. The position she had been seated in had put a strain on her back, and as she tried to stretch it out, the pain only intensified.

“Maxwell, can you give us a minute alone please,” Liam asked politely, pulling her out of her thoughts as she continued to stretch. The other man, who had been waiting for his new friend, nodded and exited.

Even though she knew they were alone, the thought of everyone else just a few steps away gave Ali the feeling that she was being watched. She didn’t have much time to ponder on this fact, however. Liam grabbed her hips and pulled her so that her body was pressed flush against his, all thoughts of the rest of the group automatically leaving her mind. His lips crashed roughly into hers, and she found herself grabbing onto his arms to steady herself. She moaned softly against his mouth as she felt his tongue against her bottom lip.

“Um, guys?” Charlie said hesitantly.

They jumped away from each other immediately, Ali’s hand going up to cover her mouth as she looked anywhere but at the red-haired man in front of her and Liam loudly clearing his throat. Charlie stood there uncomfortably for a moment before speaking again.

“We need to head out.”

With one more gentle kiss and whispered ‘I love you’, Ali got into the large black car with Maxwell and stared at Liam’s retreating form.

“You’ll see him again,” he said, patting her shoulder in a comforting manner.

“Yeah,” she said, staring out the window at the passing trees, “I know you said your brother isn’t exactly excited that I’m going to be representing House Beaumont, but what exactly am I walking into with him?”

Maxwell seemed to ponder her words for a moment.

“Well, Bertrand’s been a little more stressed than normal lately, so it may take some time, but I’m sure he’ll warm up to you eventually.”

“Yeah, that doesn’t exactly make me feel any better.”

Conversation with Maxwell flowed easily. Even though she had only known his for a few days, Ali found herself completely comfortable with him, and she felt as if she could tell him anything. The car ride passed by in a series of laughs and before she knew it, they were pulling up to the large Beaumont Estate.

“Wow,” Ali found herself saying for the second time in an hour, “Maxwell, this place is gorgeous.”

The grounds of the large house definitely looked like it was fit for nobility, and Ali stepped out of the car trying to imagine what the inside looked like. Maxwell had already made it to the trunk of the SUV and was trying to somehow carry all of his bags and her own at the same time.

“Yup, that’s home,” he replied, his voice strained as he tried to support the weight of their things.

“Max, you know I can carry my own bags, right?” she said with a laugh, making her way over to help him.

“What kind of gentleman would I be if I let a lady carry her own bag?”

Ali playfully rolled her eyes and took her luggage from him.

“I promise I won’t tell anyone,” she said sarcastically.

The large front doors of the house were made of intricately carved wood and pushed open to reveal a large foyer. The ceiling rose high above her head, and an antique chandelier kept the area brightly lit.

“Follow me. I’ll show you to your room, and then we can find Bertrand,” Maxwell said and began leading her up the large staircase.

As he led her through various hallways, Ali had to mentally keep track of every turn that they took so that she wouldn’t get lost later. However, as large and spectacular as the home was, she couldn’t help but notice that there were no people in sight.

“This is my room,” Maxwell said, gesturing to an unopened door as they passed it, “And that’s yours.”

He pointed to a door that was right down the hall from his and allowed her to walk ahead so that she could open it.

“Oh my god,” Ali said, taking the large four poster bed and the bedding that probably cost more than she made in a year at the bar.

“Yes, I’m sure the room is probably quite spectacular for someone of your tastes,” came a voice from behind them.

Ali turned around, not sure whether or not to be offended. The man who had spoken looked like every boring history professor stereotype that she had ever heard combined into one. He was covered in tweed from head to toe and had large, leather elbow patches on his jacket. There was a scowl on his face as he looked her up and down.

“He doesn’t mean anything by that,” Maxwell said quickly, trying to cover for him. “Bertrand, this is the one I was telling you about… Ali!”

“This is the girl you’ve chosen to represent our house?” Bertrand asked.

A skeptical look crossed his features, and Ali suddenly became very aware of the fact that her curls were ruffled from sleeping on the plane and that she was wearing an old hoodie that she had taken from Cole and was probably three sizes too big. She tugged at the hem of it self-consciously and smiled awkwardly at the man in front of her.

“Yep! Nailed it right?” Maxwell said, smiling widely. “Ali, this is my older brother, Bertrand.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Bertrand,” Ali said politely.

“The proper way to address a duke is ‘Your Grace’,” Bertrand responded stiffly.

“Oh, right! I’m so sorry, Your Grace,” Ali said, her cheeks heating up. She hadn’t even been in Cordonia for an hour and she was already making mistakes.

“At least it looks like you can be trained.”

Ali clenched her jaw at his words.

“Trained? I’m not your pet!” she said, anger rising in her voice.

Bertrand met her gaze and the two stared at each other for a moment.

“Maxwell, a word in private,” he said, turning and walking out the door.

Maxwell shot her a strained smile and followed his brother, shutting the door behind them. She could just barely hear their voices through the door, and although their words were muffled, she knew that the conversation was about her. Ali sighed and looked up at the ceiling, wondering what she was getting herself into. The door reopened, and a flustered Maxwell and a red-faced Bertrand reentered.

“It seems that we’re stuck with you,” Bertrand says, once again looking her over.

“If me being here really is that much of an issue I can just go, and your family can choose some other girl to sponsor,” Ali said, crossing her arms.

She didn’t expect things to be easy. She knew that there would be people who didn’t support her in Cordonia, but Bertrand was supposed to be her sponsor, and she was getting tired of his attitude. They had only known each other for five seconds, and he was already saying that she wasn’t good enough.

“No! You can’t go. We’ve already chosen you, so if you leave we’ll have no one. Besides, you could be Liam’s only chance of finding actual happiness. I’ve seen the way you look at each other. You’re the only person that he’s ever loved,” Maxwell said, pleading with her.

Ali uncrossed her arms and sighed, her features softening at his words. These actions didn’t go unnoticed by the duke who was now looking at her curiously.

“Perhaps Maxwell didn’t fully explain this to you, but if our house puts forth the Prince’s choice, we’ll win fame and recognition,” he began.

“Something we could really use right now actually, ‘cause we’re kind of broke,” Maxwell finished.

“Maxwell! You overstep,” Bertrand said angrily.

Ali looked between the two brothers.

“There’s no shame in being broke,” she said softly, “Do you guys get money if I marry Liam?”

“Not… directly, but we can leverage the prestige to great effect. It would be a scandal if word got out of our financial ruin,” Bertrand said.

Ali could tell that they were in a difficult situation, and although Bertrand only seemed to be concerned with her marrying Liam so she could help with their finances, she could tell that Maxwell had pure intentions.

“I love Liam and want to be with him, and I want to help you guys as much as I can. So, if that means not talking back to Bertrand and learning how to be a lady of the court then fine. I’ll do it,” she said.

#the royal romance #trr #the royal heir #trh #liam x mc #the royal romance fic #trr fic #liam x mc fanfic #liam #king liam #my fics #choices fics #choices #playchoices #playchoices fic #king liam fanfic #the royal romance fanfic #liam fic #playchoices fanfic

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e-one-seven · 5 years

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About Cyclum Puzzles and how it is connected to Metheus Puzzles

Warning: This is a fan theory. I am not related to Klei Entertainment in any way, I just love their games and the lore behind a little bit too much. Also, This is a long post, so I'll put the actual post under "Keep reading" so it won’t screw up your page scroll habits in case you are not interested in Don't Starve and its lore. Thanks.

Let's start with a little story: once upon a time, there was an Ancient Civilization made of people afflicted by starvation and fear. Desperate, they escaped below the ground, where they found a magic portal from where a strange, black substance was leaking. Their leader, a curious man, started to study it and he discovered that the weird substance was much more powerful of everything he and his people ever saw before. He dubbed the substance "the Fuel" and he started to use it to build everything his people needed. They evolved, probably developing magic powers in the process, their civilization flourished and their leader became a powerful King for his people.

But not everyone was happy. Metheus, the King's advisor/queen and the one who carried the torch during the first explorations of the caves, eventually noticed that there was something wrong with the Fuel, but no one listened to her. She could do nothing but watch as the Fuel changed her people and her King day after day until They arrived to claim the souls of the people as a payment for their new powers. They all started to turn into monsters. The Corrupted King could do nothing but watch as Metheus sacrificed herself to stop Them. From that moment on, the cursed substance was renamed "Nightmare Fuel".

(And to me some people managed to escape through the portal to various worlds including Earth, where they mixed with the locals causing the birth of individuals with the potential to develop magic They are still hunting down to complete the genocide nowadays, but this is not the place to talk about that.)

With the Ancient Civilization and their rulers gone, the Constant became a dead world. They were powerful, but They needed people with strong, corruptible minds to sustain Themselves and Thier powers. So They pulled some strings and one day They found William Carter, a young, yet unlucky aspiring magician. They caused an accident and made him find The Codex Umbra, the fruit of Metheus and her King's studies on the Fuel. The young man started to study it and experiment with the small residues of the Fuel on Earth, unaware of the corruption it would cause to himself and whoever surrounded him. Like the King before him, he started to go mad, and his beloved assistant Charlie tried to make him stop performing his experiments. But during that what was supposed to be their last show, They came to claim Their tribute, and William Carter (now Maxwell), Charlie and possibly other people were captured and took to Their Realm.

It is not clear of what happened here (and I hope we are going to see it in Maxwell's cinematic), but it resulted in Maxwell becoming the new King of the Constant and Charlie being permanently fused with one of Their creatures. According to what Maxwell said when he is bound to the Throne, he might have tried to oppose Them and failed. ("It's best not to fight it." [...] "You can't change the rules of the game. I don't know what they want. They... they just watch. Unless you get too close... Then... Well, there's a reason I stay so dapper.")

We still don't know how and to what extent Maxwell tried to fight back, but we can still make some hypothesis. This is my personal opinion: at first he was somehow happy to be the vessel of Their will, but when he saw what Charlie had become because of Them. He tried to fight back and/or invert the transformation, and They tied him to the Nightmare Throne as a punishment for his attempted rebellion. Maxwell realized he was forced to follow Their will, so he kept summoning innocent people from Earth to the Constant, but with a twist. From that moment on he started to bring prisoners by following a determined scheme: the new survivors had to be smart and/or strong enough to survive on their own in the long run, and if they showed themselves to be worthy enough he would have shown them the truth about Them and Their world. Or at least, that could have been the initial purpose behind the choice of the survivors we get to play as. Eventually, Wilson, a young, yet unlucky aspiring scientist, finds/creates the portal that allows him to go on a journey to reach Maxwell and he finds him tied to the Throne. Maxwell implies that it happened because They don't want him as a King anymore, and a possible past/current secret scheme from Maxwell to defeat Them could be the true reason for Them wanting a new Ning. Wilson sets him free, sacrificing his freedom in the process and becoming the new King.

What is the possible correlation between Maxwell's story and what happened to the Ancient Civilization? As already said, whatever was the reason why he did what he did, Maxwell's actions caused a scattered community of people afflicted by starvation and fear to be born again, a new civilization who started to study the Nightmare Fuel and its application on their own and get insane, giving Them more power. Maxwell himself studied the Nightmare Fuel and it made him so corrupted that he seemed to have given up to his possible original plan to stop Them by the time Wilson found him. Wilson finds him and decides to release him from the Throne with an act the game defines "take pity at your own risk". He never really knew Maxwell and he doesn't know there are other people still alive out of there (but he might have suspected that if he canonically saved Wes and resurrected Webber), so maybe talking about a "self-sacrifice" could be an exaggeration. But there is a strange detail I recently noticed and greatly contributed to the creation of this theory. What is the one thing that most of the promotional images from Don't Starve and Don't Starve Together featuring Wilson have in common? Wilson carries a torch. Just like Metheus, the first character to canonically sacrifice herself to free the Ancient King and stop Them, did. The end of Don't Starve was the promise that the history of the Ancient Civilization would repeat itself after Maxwell's defeat, with the survivors turning into corrupted beings and Wilson "dying" by losing his humanity forever.

But it didn't happen. Charlie cyclum infregit. The use of Latin is not casual: taking in account how Latin grammar works "cyclum" does not simply mean "circle or cycle", but "circle or cycle that got changed by something". Charlie broke the circle by putting herself on the throne. And it was not just the circle of the succession to the Nightmare Throne, but possibly a greater scheme that was meant to end with everyone's corruption or death. By putting herself on the Throne and modifying the Jury-Rigged Portal she might have allowed the survivors to join their forces and gave them a chance to fight against Them. The survivors have a better comprehension of what is going on in DST, and it might be the explanation why the Magic Tab was mostly unmodified: only four new recipes were added, and only one of them requires Nightmare Fuel (Abigail's Flower, Wendy's exclusive item imported from Don't Starve). The others all require Moonlenses instead. The survivors are trying to abandon the Nightmare Fuel for the safer Moon Rocks.

I read some posts on Klei's forum where people were "complaining" because Maxwell seems to know next to nothing about the Moon and its magic, but it actually makes sense: he studied only the ancient Shadow Magic, and the Celestial Magic was apparently not available before Charlie's kingdom. Until now we saw Meteor Showers that brought boulders with Moon Rocks to the mainland, giving the survivors the chance to study a new kind of magic, possibly a safer one. Then... Wilson seems freaked out by something in the opening screen image, and what could be scarier to see huge pieces of the Moon detach and fall down from the sky in the middle of the ocean to create a new island?

And this is just the beginning of a series of actions that will cause They to reveal Themselves if we take the title of the whole update in account. There could be two ways for this to happen:

1) Charlie is loyal to Them and she is bringing the secrets of the Moon to the Constant because the Celestial Magic is not as harmless as it seems (the undead versions of the creatures living in the Constant might point towards this direction). The survivors are not aware of this and whatever they will do with the Celestial Magic will actually make Them strong enough to be physically able to manifest in the world.

2) Charlie is trying to betray Them and she wants the survivors to study the Celestial Magic to find a way to destroy Them for good (the Glass Cutter being powerful and having increased durability against Shadow Creatures seems to point towards this direction). At this point, They will realize what Charlie is trying to do and They will come in person to stop her plan, just like They did when Maxwell tried in the past. Some quotes from the Ancient Fuelweaver seems to point in this direction too: let's look at his quotes when he is defeated:

"Fools!" "Who are you?" "Release me, shade!" "You deserve this." "You are not Them..." "Are you so easily deceived? Ha..." "You've made your choice."

Except for the first deathcry, after an accurate analysis it is obvious he is talking with Charlie. At least three quotes imply that she is not working with Them, and that whatever is her plan it might backfire. Because of this, it might also be possible that a combination of both the previous hypothesis might happen.

3) Charlie wants the survivors to use the Moon Magic to destroy Them, but as Moon Magic is as dangerous as the Shadow Magic the survivors have to learn to control it first. But every fictional story taught us that Light and Shadow are balanced, and therefore using the Moon Magic is making Them stronger to the point They will eventually be able to physically manifest Themselves in the world. They might try to punish Charlie by limiting her powers and forcing her to watch while They kill the survivors, as they know too much to make one of them a new puppet king for Them to control. And after they are gone, They will summon new people to choose a new king just like They did when Maxwell betrayed Them, recreating the cyclum like it was before Charlie meddled with it.

(And if you are wondering "if Charlie is good, why is she still killing people when they are in the darkness?", the answer is simple: even though she is trying to lead a secret rebellion, she is also bounded by the rules. And the key rule is, if one is in the darkness, one needs to die. Also, death is not as permanent as before, so she is not even bothered by following it anymore.)

#don't starve #don't starve together #fan theory #don't starve Maxwell #don't starve Charlie #new contents #attempt at lore reconstruction #don't starve Them

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nicoletteduclare · 5 years

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These fireside meetings were always a bore, and Maxwell tried not to close his eyes for the brief respite that it would provide if only for the fact he did not need an earful right now. Someone giving him grief for not paying attention would require him to actually reply, and to reply, well, he'd have to cough up the whole reason for this meeting quite literally. That would be a whole new conversation and involve more questions and annoyance then Max was particularly interested in dealing with.

Besides, there was a headache blooming behind his temples, most likely thanks to the flowers in his throat. There were very few people he'd humor with listening to right now. They're all complaining about managing their own (admittedly, rather fragile for most of them) sanity more often. The surprising fact is that he is too. Unlike the lot of them, though, Maxwell is acutely aware of the source.

It would be lovely if they could just finish up already, he can make out some idea of moving camp, seeing as they can't seem to find the source, and he closes his eyes to ignore the shadow out of the corner of his eye, desperately wanting to cough.

This batch seems like it'll be painful. The dark petals are amazingly useful, or, well, they would be if he could actually use the codex more often, but having them come up randomly is quite damaging, even to his own mental resilience. Not to mention his physical state, which is far more delicate. There's been quite a lot of blood lately. Feels like his mouth always tastes of copper.

Even as a child who was far too eager to believe in magic and the fae, even then, Maxwell had considered this a myth. Coughing up petals because the heart yearns for someone and never telling them, being scared to tell them? Absolutely ridiculous, a complete fairy tale. Not to mention that he'd completely been too afraid to tell Charlie for at least a good few months, and he'd never coughed up petals then.

And he absolutely loved her, loved her so much... and then he'd managed to screw the whole bloody thing up and fail to protect her and ruin the both of them. If he'd just... if he'd only...

That always left a bitter taste in his mouth, petals or no petals and Maxwell valiantly tried to shake the thoughts of the past from his mind. That, honestly, is probably the biggest reason for these blasted flower petals, though there are quite a few.

Why get close to someone else again, when all he's ever brought to anyone is misery? Why fail someone again? He's ruined every single good thing in his life through a wonderful mix of no forethought and too much pride. Everything good crumbles in his hands, and who's to say, even if his affections where returned, that it wouldn't blow up in his face, that he wouldn't fail and ruin them the same way he'd ruined Charlie. What if they ended up worse off than Charlie?

What was the point of even considering that it was possible?

He'd rather let himself choke to death on flowers before letting that happen to someone that he cares about again.

There's a nudge from his side, and his eyes flutter open. "I'm really starting to wonder if you ever pay any attention to anything we talk about." Wilson was practically glaring at him, a scowled frown on his face.

He either has to reveal the petals by coughing them up or just swallow them down, and as painful at it is, Maxwell chose the later, looking away from Wilson to speak. "I pay plenty of attention, Higgsbury." Even though his throat ached, probably scratched raw, he managed a dry, even tone, though it was a little strained.

Wilson pinched the bridge of his nose, an annoyed sigh escaping and Maxwell noticed the brilliant flower crown perched quite nicely on his head. "Whatever you say. We're going to start moving camp tomorrow, maybe see if there's something new we've missed that's driving everyone insane. It's been getting pretty bad... though I doubt it even bothers you."

He just nodded along, pretending that whatever it was absolutely did not bother him, and watched Wilson sigh again and get up. A few moments in front of the fire before turning to go off to the tents, and Maxwell is glad they're all scattering, he can feel the urge to cough start to rise.

If only Wilson knew the half of it.

Though, if he even knew... Maxwell bit his tongue to keep from coughing just yet and moved to go find a quiet, private area to discreetly cough up the blasted mess from his throat. If he knew, it wouldn't matter anyway.

It'd been what, a few weeks since they'd completed moving, a setting up the new camp (not too far from the old camp, they'd judged about a half a day's walk back and forth was far enough if it was something new they'd missed that was draining sanity) and yet... Wilson pitched the bridge of his nose. He'd just staved off a headache and the shadows at the edge of his vision, between flower crowns and green mushroom caps. No one else seemed to be fairing any better either.

What a waste of a good chunk of their fall prep period then. They could have stayed put and put more effort into making the best of the fall growing period before winter made any sort of plant growth stop. It probably wouldn't be a disaster, they did have good stores in place already, but it was frustrating that this move solved nothing.

He flipped through his journal to the last handful of pages, where he'd been writing down various scenarios. He still thought that it was something new he was overlooking. Maybe it was small, like a new flower. He wouldn't be too surprised, the roses were something he overlooked until he needed a flower and got thorns in his hand.

Some of the other things seemed a little less probable. He doubted anything underground could affect them up here, and he wasn't sure there actually was a cavern below them. And something they used might have started to drain their sanity, but he really doubted that.

There was a note about feeling better after leaving camp, and Wilson frowned. He'd forgotten about that. Maybe someone had drug something back, and didn't realize what it was doing?

That would be a bit harder to find, really. They may have brought it back to trade with the pig king later, like other new trinkets that occasionally showed up. Or maybe something like the rose pedestal, something that followed light, and hung around camp if you were unlucky to find them.

He could ask Max for help, honestly. This obviously wasn't affecting him, the man rarely ended up in the mental state the rest of them constantly were trying to avoid; Max's occasional careful use of the shadow amulet excluded.

If anything, Maxwell would at least tell him if something seemed completely impossible. While his memory wasn't infallible, he at least could have some knowledge of what one could do in control of this world. Though, stubborn bastard he was, Wilson didn't doubt he might have to bribe him with doing a few hated chores.

Though... that brought to mind the fact Maxwell had been trading off his shifts for night watch for other chores. Hadn't... Wilson thought back. Maxwell had actually asked to trade a shift for going down below for lightbulbs and mushrooms with Wolfgang.

Wilson wasn't sure as to why Maxwell hated the underground so much, but he'd had his suspicions that the enclosed, dark space was uncomfortably close to the throne room he'd found Maxwell in at the end of his little adventure.

So that was one of the chores Max used almost always tried to shove off onto him. And Maxwell usually tried to trade that off for a night shift if he couldn't weasel his way out of it, Wickerbottom might have permanent insomnia, but Maxwell was frequently also victim to it and so it was an easy swap.

He had also been going off on his own a lot, avoiding everyone really, though that wasn't surprising, but he usually had one of his shadow puppets out. Now Wilson tried to remember the last time he'd even seen Max with a shadow clone.

Perhaps Maxwell wasn't as immune as he thought, though the underground thing was still a bit of a mystery. Something was going on there.

He'd have to ask, really. Wilson didn't expect a straight response, Maxwell used to not even let him know when he'd been injured. Fun, discovering that your only companion at the time was incapacitated because of an internal wound. That he'd known of. Weakness always seemed to be something Maxwell hid.

Maybe some of the others would think Maxwell was up to something, and

honestly, a cynical bit of him said he was stupid for not really entertaining the idea. But as much as he argued with Maxwell, he was fairly certain Max wasn't about to stab him in the back.

He could hear someone stiring, a tent rustling as someone pulled open the fabric, and he looked up. It was time for a new shift, and Wilson's shoulders relaxed. It'd be good to get some sleep.

He'd talk to Maxwell in the morning. It'd be a nightmare, but Wilson would either have an assistant (he could almost hear Maxwell denying being one, and the mere thought produced a smile,) or manage to get him to admit that something was wrong.

Death was becoming far too frequent, though it wasn't like any of them really noticed, or at least if they did, none of them pressed it. The most reaction he'd picked up on was Willow muttering something about being irresponsible, and he almost scoffed at her. He couldn't remember exactly what of this lovely floral disaster was the crux of all of his dying, the usual fog of revival masked it.

Since he couldn't remember, and he didn't want to exactly risk being found out, Maxwell fell into the habit of being alone for his own sake, and in some ways, everyone else's as well.

The idea of this... affliction, being found out, was mortifying. Besides the agonizing questions, this did destroy some of the facade he'd worked hard to put up; that none of them meant anything to him. And considering that, the idea that his affections would even be remotely reciprocated was downright laughable in the worst possible way. Much like the rest of his life, a giant cosmic joke.

So, Maxwell had accepted the thorny stems, sharp edged rust red and ink black petals, and the pain that came with it as his penance for even daring to let his heart consider another love after the first one had been utterly demolished by his own hubris. The headaches, the shadows out of the corners of his eyes, the world slowly becoming a gray husk shot through with streaks of red? That was an added bonus. Even as he managed to keep himself from teetering at the edge of his sanity, the world was never quite as vibrant as it should have been.

The time between deaths was getting shorter, and the Maxwell couldn't help but wonder if there was a point where the time between his deaths would be only hours. That, or he'd finally succumb to the terrorbeaks.

Maybe this is what he deserved. It was about time, considering how many years it's been since Charlie pulled Wilson from the throne and threw the two of them together. Besides, the guilt surrounding this mad little game he'd thrown together certainly wasn't enough.

Just as well to have a bloody punishment to fit the crime.

The last death was only a week ago, or was it five days? One of the two, and no matter, even though he couldn't remember the circumstance surrounding the last handful of deaths, something told him this was near the end. He was on his hands and knees at the base of a pine tree.

He'd actually been trying to make himself useful for once, what a joke, honestly. There was a tiny notch in the tree from an axe, but it didn't matter. What mattered was the not-so-tiny pile of blood soaked petals underneath him, more blood dripping from his mouth as he stared at them, eyes trying to focus under the strain.

His arms were shaking to hold up his weight, and yet, as he heard a voice, Maxwell tried to force himself to stand. A mix of pride and self-preservation, he couldn't let this be seen. Especially not by...

"Stars and atoms, Maxwell, what the hell are yo-..." The question was left unfinished as Max's strength left him, collapsing back down as he choked up more petals, an awful gagging noise before silence. Wilson was already next to him as there was a pathetic gasp for air, a warm arm trying to help him up or heimlich, one of the two, winding underneath, but it was far too late this time.

The next thing Maxwell could remember was the cold marble flooring that meant camp, and that frankly, was absolutely terrifying. He hadn't had the materials, or really the strength to recreate a meat effigy since the first death by his affliction; touchstones were his main means of revival while he worked to at least manage the coughing fits somewhat.

Instead of the wood and broken stone around a touchstone, dead pig heads staring at him, Wilson was looking at him in the twilight, a small fire going, his own pack tossed nearby.

The place seemed... empty, for camp. Usually there was a lot more fuss if someone was revived, and while there was a little bit of relief towards that, it was... unnerving until he saw the lack of any of their usual structures, things were broken down to be reused. It was their old, recently abandoned camp, seeing as the fire-pit was still in good condition.

He hadn't gotten up yet, eyes just tracing so he could figure out what to do, but before he could get farther into figuring out the situation, Maxwell was joined by Wilson kneeling next to him.

"Why didn't you tell anyone, you absolute idiot!" He hissed between his teeth as he dug for something. While it was obvious he'd died, the reality of the situation didn't quite set in as he gave Wilson a confused look before pushing himself away in shock, sitting up.

Wilson must have seen him die. Logically, then, Wilson had seen the petals. Not that he could remember the man's reaction, which was probably a good thing, but it was the only conclusion to his words. However, this posed a problem.

Wilson knew.

That was quite frankly terrifying; and while he was trying to process this horribly unlucky turn of events, Maxwell couldn't react before there was a godawful needle jabbed into his arm, the sleeve having been pushed up before he was fully awake.

"How long?" Wilson asked, eyes alert and narrowed as he practically glared at Maxwell, before turning back to the bag, fishing something else out with a mutter of "Frankly, if it wasn't for my mother's stories about her younger sister's death due to this, I wouldn't believe it." Maxwell used the mild distraction of rustling for something to stand up, his own pack was near enough to scoop up, ignoring the wobble in his legs.

"It's none of your business, Higgsbury." Lies are so easy, still, and but this one was quiet, Maxwell's shoulders tensed as he backed up, ignoring the gold chain in Wilson's hand.

It's dropped back into the bag as Wilson stood up, glaring at Maxwell, arms crossed. "None of my business? Really, Maxwell?" Looking away was so much easier then confronting this. Heavens, everything truly does go wrong, doesn't it.

"You think that it's 'none of my business' when this is probably what's been affecting the rest of us? I saw the kind of petals you're dealing with, I'm not stupid. Not to mention that you're wasting resources then. I thought you might have just gotten into a few scrapes, but no, you were hiding this from us. You think that it isn't my business? Really?" It's certainly venomous, and while it looks like Wilson might have more to say, he isn't in the mood for this, teeth clenched to keep himself from coughing up more of the blasted petals right then, before he turned on his heel, not a word, and walked away, ignoring the start and stop of Wilson's voice trying to protest.

It was always a lost cause, he knew that from the get-go, but this proved it far past a shadow of a doubt, and Max knew that he was going to be saddled with this for a long, long time, as he closed his eyes and made his plans, heading for the woods.

Maxwell sorted through the pack, making sure his things had been undisturbed by any other survivor or monster that might have stumbled upon his bones from the last death. The codex was there, despite how useless it was in his condition.

Every little bit of sanity counted, but on the off-chance he was surprised by a giant or something, a shadow fighter might buy him some time to get away. He already had enough deaths to handle.

Then there was his winter gear, traps and tools, water skin, some medical supplies; bandages and salves, plenty of torches and fire wood, and finally, thankfully untouched, was his stash of food. Nothing extremely wonderful, Maxwell wasn't stupid enough to risk being found to stop and make a crock pot, but rabbits and moleworms were easy enough pickings to supply him with meat, along with berries and carrots and the occasional gobbler.

He'd retrieved a few choice materials in the middle of the night, after Wilson revived him, but frankly, he'd already had most of his own supplies. Thankfully, his tent and chest were at the outskirts of camp by choice, and he was quiet enough to head off without anyone noticing. He hadn't actually taken much more then the winter gear and his copy of their maps, the essentials considering that it'd turned to winter only a week after he'd left.

He had a walking death sentence. Carrying more then the basics seemed stupid.

Still, sometimes it was a bit obnoxious, he wouldn't mind having a fur roll to wrap around himself right about now. Instead, he shivered as he slid the vest off the skeleton and retrieved his stupid looking but warm hat. He managed both of them on before pulling out a frozen thermal stone out of the interior pocket of the vest, another shiver wracking his body.

He slid the thermal stone back into his pack to reheat soon, pulling out the map of the underground caves instead, x's through certain locations. He'd have to mark it off properly once he got a fire started, but he mentally noted where he'd been in the caves when he'd woken up. Another touchstone down.

It was obvious that he was going to run out of them soon, but he didn't want to, well, he couldn't really face any of the other survivors right now. Knowing Wilson's inability to keep his mouth shut (far more charming when it was about science, less so when it dealt with... well, this, and he probably had, as he said, it affected everyone,) he had to hope none of them had believed it. He wouldn't have, certainly. Even with the reality of honest to god magic, Maxwell would have scoffed at the idea of this fairytale being real. It was a story, told to children and young adults to warn them away from being foolish with their hearts. To keep people from pinning for those they couldn't be with.

Well, he'd never been good at listening to warnings, had he? His chest ached all the time, these days, probably due to the floral infestation. He'd suffocate on them once again, and waste yet another touchstone.

Maxwell started to cough as he put away the map and stood up, a few petals falling out of his mouth and laying against the white snow. For all the problems the cold had, being tracked through the snow wasn't one of them, at least. The footprints left would quickly vanish, intended to keep certain horrors hidden.

Normally, one would expect to see the tracks in the snow from monsters such as the MacTusk or the hounds, but that made things too easy. It also had the benefit of keeping surviors from retracing their footsteps, and while it had been a pain, now Maxwell was silently thankful for it. All he had to do was keep the petals from leaving a trail, and he was hidden, bones excluded. No one could tell they were his anyway, and he had no space for bone shards.

He couldn't help but remember the first morning this had happened as he gathered up the petals and walked away from his latest death.

The night before this started, the pair of them had been forced into watch after stumbling back into camp late, and they took the time to patch themselves up.

Hound mounds were always trouble, but cactus flowers were too useful to not gather in the summer. However, Wilson had forgotten the territory range, and ventured just a few inches too close for the hound's comfort.

A few shadow clones and a spear were perfectly fine for getting rid of the nuisance, but neither of them came out of it unscathed.

At least it hadn't been the dragonfly, but still. Wilson had pulled a hound off of his back, the last one, thankfully, but it'd torn open the flesh under his shoulder blade.

Normally, he'd have insisted he could take care of it himself, but between the exhaustion and pain, he accepted Wilson's offer of help, besides, it was hard to bandage his back. The normal banter, a few light jabs of 'how do you honestly survive out here, you're paper,' from Wilson, as well as a mutter of being glad it was superficial, hands gentle on the bare skin next to the wound as Wilson looked it over.

It'd been surprisingly... nice, but over all too soon. Wilson had shifted over so they could sit next to one another as Maxwell had looked at the damage to his clothing. He had to repair both his shirt and suit jacket, Wilson had poked at him wearing it in the heat earlier that day.

He was already planning that out before he looked over at his companion. Wilson looked... exhausted, slumped on the log. The permanent bags under his eyes looked darker then normal, and he was well aware of how badly Wilson (and most of the others,) handled the night. It would be worse on an already tired mind.

Before he could really think about it, Maxwell offered to take over fully, a smart comment of "I don't need you falling into insanity on me," dying on his lips when Wilson smiled.

A tired thank you, and between the smile and the slightly wilted flower crown perched on Wilson's head to try and make the night easier had completely derailed any thought besides the soft, fluttery feeling in his chest as Wilson left.

He'd tried very hard not to think about it for the rest of his watch as he repaired his shirt and suit jacket, until Wickerbottom arrived from her nightly reading nook to relieve him. He'd gone to bed halfway through the night with a frankly terrifying realization, and woken up to the start of a nightmare.

Obviously, hindsight was 20/20, unlike his own eyesight. That wasn't the catalyst of his affectionate feelings towards the scientist, but it was moment it finally, really, dawned on him. He'd tried to keep his distance from the other survivors once he was thrown into the mix, but Wilson was apparently a special case, and that was terrifying. Caring deeply about him scared Maxwell down to the very core of his being, and the realization of his feelings came with that terror.

It may have been that feeling, the fear that had buried in his stomach as he repaired his clothing, that brought these suffocating flowers along. Choking on his own fear.

But that fear was warranted. He ruined things so easily... especially Charlie, the last person he'd felt anything like this towards, he'd ruined her life and that was a something he could never make amends for. Maxwell was fairly certain that even on the slim chance that these feelings were returned, he'd destroy it, without meaning to, as well. And with their last conversation, words that still sometimes came up in his thoughts, and another reason for avoiding the whole lot of them... well, at least he couldn't break something that was never going to happen in the first place.

A cold piece of comfort, and he shivered as the wind managed through the layers.

Wilson huffed as he looked at the fractures in the gold flecked rock he'd been working on shattering. It wasn't the first rock of the day, he'd been at this for a while now, trying to get a handle on the anxiety that had come forward in full force this morning. He'd been headed to the rocky field to get some supplies for new thermal stones, some people hadn't been keeping theirs repaired and he had found a new skeleton. There wasn't a satchel or anything of note around it, but it was most certainly new. It was in the normal path to the northern cave entrance that was right near the outcrop of rocks, there was no way it was just a skeleton they'd missed.

It made him sick to see. Stupid, idiotic... he took another breath and looked at the rock again, trying to ignore the knots in his stomach. Maxwell had vanished. He'd been silent and left before Wilson could even finish saying what he'd been trying to get out of his system after seeing the man choke to death on petals.

Hanahaki is what he knew it by, mostly due to his mother. She'd never elaborated, and it was apparently ignored by the medical community as he'd never encountered it in undergrad, but she'd given him a brief description that he decided was just a poetic way of saying that her sister died of a broken heart.

What a horrifying thing to witness, to see the whole thing play out in front of her, in her own sister, and to not even be able to revive her. It had been horrifying enough for Wilson, and he at least could bring someone back to life in this realm. He kept thinking too much about how pale Maxwell had looked, blood trickling out of his open mouth and onto a pile of blood soaked petals on the ground as the man asphyxiated and Wilson tried and failed to get him to breathe again.

He shivered and picked up his pick-axe, hoping he could stop this train of thought again. But, alas. His brain fixated on things too well. Why hadn't Maxwell just said something? To any of them? It didn't have to be the whole camp, but someone should have been told so at least, maybe, they could fix it before it had gotten bad.

Instead, he got to find out with Maxwell suffocating on petals as Wilson desperately tried to get him to breathe. His words after the fact were maybe, well, less maybe and more most certainly, sharp. He'd been angry, it was affecting all of them, but he was also incredibly scared and he didn't know how to phrase it.

Maxwell had used his effigy earlier, and it'd been a tiny bit eyebrow raising, but none of them had questioned it. He'd started to go off on his own before then, he'd probably just bitten off more then he could chew.

Well, he had, but not in the way Wilson was expecting. And then he had the gall to go and disappear! He'd looked for Max, had been for weeks, and the most he'd found were bones. He swung, listening to the rock shatter. Doing these sort of chores usually helped when he was dealing with overthinking, certainly had the last time he'd turned a thought over and over in his head til he could scream.

The physical activity usually wore him down, and that stopped the pacing around. Usually then, it'd shut up or he'd pass out to sleep.

He could only hope that would be today's remedy. Wilson was sure he'd already talked Wickerbottom's ear off about this, she was the only one he'd really discussed Max's condition with at length. He needed to confide in someone, and she was the most likely to have maybe a lick of experience with the illness. Everyone else got a hand waved 'he's sick and being stubborn' because it was the barest truth he could say.

The two of them were understandably concerned about the fact he was coughing up up dark petals, for both the effects on the rest of them, and discussion on what that meant for Maxwell. He was always more steady, mentally, then the rest of them, so there was a point in his favour, but that only could last so long. Which, as Wickerbottom pointed out, was probably why it took so long for someone to find out.

The signs were far more blatant now, but weren't things always more apparent when looking back? Maxwell had been relying less on his shadow clones, he'd ceased using them practically all together before the curtain had been pulled back on his condition, but he'd been using only one for quite some time. It was a little crass, but Wilson found it ironic that when he had a steady source of the material for nightmare fuel, it would be in a way that rendered his clones unusable.

Well, it was more sad then ironic.

They'd talked carefully about it, no need to stress everyone else about it, mostly at night during watch. The one question neither of them posed was the question of who Maxwell was pining over. He didn't want to focus on it, it was an obvious thing really. Who else could it be but Miss Charlie?

He never talked about her very much, some things Wilson had only picked up on from overhearing Maxwell talking to himself. Whenever she did come up in conversation, the guilt and pain was an undertone that had originally been surprising, but it mixed with the sad adoration that was far more apparent. Just through a few short conversations it had been obvious that to him that Maxwell was in love with her.

So Wilson kept his own feelings close to his chest. It was more then a little bit frustrating, an old flame that had started to burn anew. Maxwell had gone from his loved voice on the radio, to a demon, then to a pain in the ass ally, to... well, a soft, unrequited love again. He accepted it with ease at the time when it struck him, that was just how his life always went. There wasn't anything he could do about it; why bother tying himself up in knots about it? He tried not to at least, shoving his feelings to the side and acting like it was the same as always.

That was why he'd just stood there as Maxwell walked off after the initial outburst of frustration. He didn't know what else to say that wouldn't reveal everything. Wilson figured, hoped really, that he'd be back at camp, or something sensible instead of running off. Max refused to be sensible, it seemed.

He had wanted (he still did) to help. Find something to ease the coughing, or at least keep him from dying. It was impossible to solve the pinning problem, really. There wasn't any other cure, the few scraps of knowledge Wickerbottom had pointed towards the only thing that was even remotely close to a cure had a tendency to have side effects relating towards memory loss, even to the point of becoming cold. Wilson honestly didn't understand how that was possible, but it was something to look into. But he'd rather not toy with someone else's feelings.

There had to be another way.

Sunlight was one way to wake up. Waking up from hacking up his lungs was another, and it was never a pleasant way to come out of sleep, but these days Maxwell was getting used to it.

There were some embers still left of his fire. Before it could extinguish itself, he threw the petals from the night and morning onto the fire, the fire starting to properly burn again. That awful straw roll he'd used to sleep on (Maxwell yearned for the days of beefalo wool and rabbit fur now) was rolled up into a tight bundle to sit on. He'd burn it before he left, but he needed to cook on a more controlled flame right now.

A gobbler leg, wrapped in scrap paper to keep the meat from the rest of his bag was today's breakfast. Better then some days, and he sighed as he tossed the paper into the fire and skewered the leg into a stick. Roasting these things was never an exact science, but as long as it wasn't raw.

Semi-burned wasn't too bad, and the meat was far more comforting and filling then a few charred carrots. It made him feel a bit warmer, though the more likely source of that was the thermal stone tucked into his vest being warmed by the fire.

Once he'd eaten, he pulled a few green mushrooms from his pack to roast quickly on a slowly dying fire before tossing the straw roll into the flames. It burst back to life, and he stepped back to keep from letting any of his clothing catch on fire and yet allow himself, and his thermal stone, to bask in the warmth.

Sadly, he couldn't stay too long around the fire. Just long enough to let the thermal stone hit peak temperature as he wrapped his mushroom caps and place them at the top of his pack. He left as the fire started to wane, it would soon die, and the ashes would vanish under the snow.

It felt like they were gearing up for another storm soon, he'd have to head to the caves again. As much of a pain as it was, he rather prefered to not be underground, it was safer during these blizzards, since he didn't have a stable camp. He'd been using the caves to avoid the hounds as well. They'd cleared the areas closest to the entrences of danger ages ago, and he didn't have to go too far into them just to avoid hounds.

Besides, it probably wasn't too long until he died again, he'd want to get closer to the caves so he didn't have to travel too far to retrive his things anyway. He'd had a few good days, and now he was fairly certain that he had at most, three days left. Not that it truly mattered. He was just going to die again.

In order to get away from the places he was more likely to be discovered in, he'd been forgoing sleep (he used to do it all the time, the nightmares in his head were harder to fight off) but a terrorbeak almost solid enough to bite his head off was reminder enough that those days were gone. Staying up all night wasn't helpful for his already diminished sanity.

Maybe it'd be easier to just give up the ghost and let one of those terrors kill him. Oh, it'd be bloody painful, but it wasn't like he'd be able to full remember it anyway. If he was lucky he might not ever remember getting letting himself get to that point until he saw the skeleton.

He'd been hoarding blue and green mushrooms whenever he could find them, and the mushroom forests underground he'd usually have to go through after dying also gave him a decent supply, but maybe it'd just be easier to get it over with. Ignore his health and sanity and just let it happen, again and again until he couldn't revive any more.

Not today though. It sounded tempting, but right now, he wasn't even sure if he had a touchstone left. The map could be wrong, or a more likely option, any of the unmarked ones could be one he'd used when the lot of them were in the caves and he'd made a mis-step. Then, his options would basically be the other survivors. Ghosts were drawn towards the living when there wasn't any other source of revival, and while he doubted any of them would want to bring him back, if they did, he'd just be cornered.

Maxwell would sigh if it wasn't for the need to cough, and he leaned against a tree to hack a batch of the blasted things up into his hand. At least he wasn't too far away from his goal, and the petals weren't too bloody. He'd have to pocket and burn them, better to not leave breadcrumb when you didn't want to be found. He'd make fuel, but he had plenty, and making more then he could carry was stupid, another thing to lead people to him. At least the petals could rot, but Max wasn't taking a chance on that.

It wasn't even mid morning yet, and he could tell there were shadows lurking at the edges of his vision. Maybe he was more out of it then he’d thought, or the petals were making things even worse then they had before. He thought that barely being able to last a day, not to mention the nights, was bad enough, but just a few short hours?

He shuddered and started to cough again, petals not caught this time as they instead hit the snow, a bit of blood joining them. Stupid flowers, he thought as he took a deep breath, trying to steady himself against the tree, watching slightly more firm shadows take their place in front of his eyes instead of at the side.

Mushrooms, he tried to remind himself before the thought slipped away. Right, he needed a cap or two or three to handle this.

He pulled around his pack and pulled the freshly cooked ones out, thankful that he always stuck these at the top. They wouldn't help the pain in his throat, but some more bleeding was nothing compared to trying to fight off shadows, and as much as he entertained the idea earlier, he really didn't want to die to one of those.

He'd barely gotten to swallow the first one down when there was a crunch, the icy layer of the snow being broken through by something. He hadn't heard any howls, so it couldn't be the hounds.

Maxwell swallowed again as he slowly turned to stare at Wilson, who was staring back, bearded and looking quite concerned.

He barely thought, just turned and ran, ignoring the cry for him to stop, please. He wasn't that far from the caves, he could lose him.

Once again, Wilson had gotten himself gently kicked out of camp for a few hours for pacing. Even the kids knew something was bothering him, and he had a feeling most of the adults in camp were ready to throttle him. Wickerbottom had her usual calm demeanor, but Wilson wasn't blind, he could see the tension underneath. They were all fed up with his hand wringing, and she'd kindly asked him to go chop some wood, as Woodie had watch tonight and so was dozing off for a few hours. It was something useful to do at least, even with the approaching nightfall.

So, now here he was, in the midst of a quiet woods, his small campfire the main source of noise around. The light it gave was enough to keep him safe from the night as he worked on chopping down a lumpy pine.

These chores were becoming rather frequent, more so then hunting or gathering food, but it was probably a good thing. Being away from everyone sometimes gave him a better perspective, and the repetitive swing of an axe or pick axe was surprisingly soothing. The steady rhythm of hits was background noise as he thought about solutions. None of them were actual solutions, but he figured the more he chopped at it, much like the tree, he'd find something useful.

Not that any actual solution would be much of any use if he didn't find Maxwell first and foremost. But there had to be a way to keep him alive, even if the flowers had to stay, a way to keep him from dying so frequently at the very least. Something to ease it, if not solve it, living with flowers in your body had to be better then dying to them by choking them up. Maybe even keeping them from affecting everyone else.

But, once again, the biggest problem was finding the man. He'd kept an eye out, and the only sign that Maxwell was even alive was that people kept stumbling upon new skeletons, nothing around them. Nothing else. He was surprisingly good about covering his tracks.

Still, the number of skeletons gave him a bad gut feeling. The latest one he'd found himself, heading off to get rabbit fur from the caves, yet another chore he did alone to keep his relentless pacing down. His stomach sank at the thought of dying out here alone, freezing while choking up blood and petals and stems and such. Even though they've all died on a fairly regular basis, going back to dying alone and scared was something unimaginable these days. Not to mention the possibilities of dying to terrorbeaks and crawling horrors.

He had no one, and it'd been so long since Wilson's been well and truely alone that anyone going through that was hard to think about. Maybe back when it was just a shoddy alliance between them, and he was waiting to be back-stabbed, he'd find some dark bit of humor in Max suffering like that. Now, it was just depressing. No one to lean on or force him to accept help for once.

Well, he was going to force him to take help when he found him. And it was a when, not a if. There couldn't be that many places around to hide, even the longest trek from from camp was a handful of days, not to mention wormholes and beefalo. Someone was bound to encounter him at some point.

Another few whacks, and the tree started to fall. Wilson stepped back and felt the audible thump as hit his the ground, taking a second before he start to peel the branches off to feed his fire.

Stars, it didn't help he still felt like he should have done more, said something better after he'd revived the moron. Bit back the anger, expressed the worry underneath the frustration of Maxwell hiding things. Maybe he'd have saved himself all of this anxiety .

He huffed and capped his axe into the stump of the tree before starting to gather up the now peeled off branches. He'd gather up the logs he'd made later, the stump could stay for now.

Even with all of this, even with knowing exactly who was at the heart of Maxwell's pining... his chest had a dull ache in it just at the mere thought of him dying alone. Even now, he couldn't shed the unrequited feelings. Oh, he'd worry if Maxwell was just a friend, sure. But somehow, the man had managed to make him care about him again.

It was never going to happen, and that was something he had to keep reminding himself, he'd accepted it, sure, but the thoughts still crept in. Wilson had managed to put it under lock and key for the most part.

Instead, he enjoyed their stupid, petty arguments that were mostly for the sake of arguing until they went too far. He greatly enjoyed the times Maxwell would actually talk about magic, few and far between, but it always was insightful. It was nice, when he wasn't being a cagey bastard. Then there were the times that Maxwell ended up being the voice of reason when something new had cropped up and Wilson was over-eager to test it, though at times, it was the reverse.

They both had the tendency to get in over their heads, and when Wilson did, Max pulled him back. Once again, it was his turn to pull Maxwell back and help him, because he was most certainly in over his head.

His fire was starting to flicker, and Wilson threw another branch into the flames to feed it. At least the chores were physically exhausting. Maybe after some food he could get some actual rest. It'd be nice instead of staying up all night overthinking everything.

Thankfully, his pack had more then his usual jerky for travel. They'd had plenty of vegetables sitting in the fridge that he'd made a stuffed eggplant, along with a few morsels. Warming it wasn't exactly easy, but he'd done it before, and after skewering some morsels, he had a warm, filling meal.

With luck, he'd sleep.

Before that, though, he gathered up the last of the excess tree limbs and threw them into the fire, making sure that he'd have light through the night. Between that and his fur roll, Wilson felt like it should be quite comfortable, granted that it didn't start snowing.

He watched the flames dance for a few moments after lying down before turning over, the fire warming his back and his eyes adjusting to the darkness. The last thought before he slid into sleep was that he hoped Max was managing to stay alive.

Maxwell was once again on his mind after being woken up by the sunrise and groggily trying to suss out what he was up to the night before. After fishing out a piece of jerky from his bag, he could only assume that the best place to look was probably around the caves. The entrances to the vast underground below their feet had been where quit a few of the new skeletons had been showing up.

He bundled the logs into the bottom of his bag as he settled on a plan. He'd check the entrance near the rock field before heading back to camp, he could check in on the closer one in the evening before he got back. It wasn't a walk to look forward to, but maybe it would put his mind at ease, even if he didn't find Max.

The last thing he had to do was pull the axe from where he'd left it in the stump, and that was easy to put away, right into the little loop he'd added to his pack. Kept a spear or axe handy without cluttering up the space he used for torches, as well as leaving his hands free.

Useful in the winter, he could shove his hands into the vest to stay warm. At least they hadn't had another late winter snowstorm yet. Walking in the old, refrozen snow was hard enough without an extra layer of white, fluffy snow. And even without the new layer of snow, tracks never seemed to stay. It seemed to be some joke of the Constant to keep you from following your own tracks back home, or discover a monster before they snuck up on you. The snow was nothing more then a hinderance, but at least it wasn't knee deep yet.

Besides, the wind was cruel enough, snow or no snow. Even a full beard didn't keep his face warm. It always seemed like no matter how much he prepared for this weather, it never was enough.

The walk was uneventful, really, the winds were bad but nothing else . Mostly, Wilson had to turn out of the wind for a few moments when it whipped up into a harsh breeze to keep his eyes and nose from turning into icicles, otherwise, it was a quiet, if long, walk. It'd been a few hours since he'd woken up, and Wilson was fairly certain he was almost out of the woods and into the empty clearing before a rock field that would have one of the entrances to the caves. Then he'd turn around and head back to camp along the tree line, staying out of spider nests and trouble in general until about the area where there had been the grass geckos. He'd take a left and go look at the other-

Wilson's train of thoughts went right out the window as he heard a distinctively harsh hacking in the distance. Oh. Relief and some panic mixed together as he tried to silently walk over. It was an impossible task, but he didn't need to sound like a hound or something gallivanting over to maul him.

Maxwell was leaning against a tree, hunched over and shaking as he coughed, dark colored blobs against the ground which could only be petals. As he stood up, the man looked panicked, still shaking slightly, glancing around like he was surrounded. Wilson could only assume that he was, quietly watching with an ache in his chest as Max pulled his pack off to grab a packet of mushrooms, stuffing one into his mouth as he swung it back on.

He stepped closer, thinking about what he had in his own bag that might help.

That was what alerted Maxwell. His back tensed, and Wilson winced before the other spun around and they both just stared at one another. The moment felt far longer then it was, but he also wasn't expecting Maxwell to turn on his heel and bolt like a scared animal.

He didn't even pause when Wilson shouted "Wait, stop! Maxwell, hold on!"

So instead Wilson followed. Through the last bit of the woods and across the clearing he'd been headed towards and down into the caves themselves, both of them not even hesitating to pull out a torch and light it, too much practice to need a moment to stop. The cave was abnormally dark, not even light-bulb flowers in the distance. That, or all of them were withered at the time. It didn't matter much, Maxwell wasn't slowing down, and Wilson wasn't about to stop and lose him now.

"Maxwell! Seriously, stop, please!" There wasn't any response to his shouting as they turned a corner into a narrow causeway. He wasn't stopping as he turned a corner marked by a crossed out rectangle, one of their crude markings that meant dead end. He must have missed it while in a panic to get away. While the dead end was useful, he really didn't want to trap Maxwell to get him back to camp.

There was a rumble around them, and Wilson almost stopped to regain his balance as the cave floor shifted under him, if this dead end caved in... "It's a dead end, Max!" He shouted, trying to be heard over the rumble as he headed forward. At least if it caved in and they were together he could get them out of it.

At least it looked he'd already hit the end of the corridor. Maxwell was leaning against the back wall, coughing so hard is seemed like he'd cough up his lungs first, torch discarded onto the floor. Wilson winced as he caught a few stones on the arm as he rushed to catch up. Closer, it was obvious gently pushed down on his shoulder to get him to sit as the man caught his breath. The moment he did, however, he started into another fit, petals in a growing pile in front of him.

For all the planning, Wilson felt very helpless in the moment, kneeling down to rub the other's back with his free hand until the fit started to calm again. He hated this. Hated feeling like there was nothing he could do, that nothing was going to work... "Do you have any water?" He asked quietly, shifting to finally get a good close look at him in the torch light. He kept looking everywhere, scanning for things that weren't really there, not yet, anyway, though Wilson could tell it was bad enough that he was starting to notice things out of the corner of his eyes.

Wonderful. He didn't want to fight the damned shadows here, so Wilson gently pulled Max's bag from his shoulders. He'd had a mushroom earlier, hopefully he had more.

There were more, thank the stars, and there was a water-skin as well, half full. he took both things out and handed the mushrooms over to Maxwell first, before moving away to start a fire before his torch burned out. At least he'd been cutting wood, there was plenty of cords to keep a fire going it they had to stay here a while.

The cave had gone silent, but with the last of his torch's flame, he lit the logs and sighed in relief at a fire going. It wasn't as cold without the wind, but the cool rock sapped heat away quickly. At least they'd lucked out with the earthquake, but here they were. Maxwell wasn't even looking at him, pointedly looking towards a wall, his water skin in hand. "You've been gone awhile, you know?" Wilson said, trying to get the man to look at him, trying to be reassuring, that there was something that could be done.

Maxwell just made some sort of noise that sounded like it was agreement at the sentence, and nothing else. He didn't even look towards him. They were going to do this again, Wilson wanting to help and Maxwell just... refusing it.

Wonderful. Absolutely wonderful.

Oh, this was absolutely fantastic. Maxwell leaned back, his eyes closed, silently condemning everything. Why did it have to be Wilson? Any of the survivors would be a problem, but when it just made his chest ache worse... some force of the universe must enjoy him suffering.

Not to mention the man was quietly trying to ease the pain... it was exceedingly comforting, unfairly so, to have someone care. Not to mention that it was Wilson of all people, but Maxwell was fairly certain that this was bound to end up going from comforting to questioning. Wilson had expressed some sort of familiarity, he remembered that much from the last time they'd been a few feet from one another. Family, if he was recalling it correctly. He'd only known about it from fairy tales, the more glamorous accounts. Roses and peonies and other lovely flowers falling from pining maids and princesses' mouths, for some dashing prince or knight or brave peasant boy or something. It glossed over the wretched details.

If Wilson knew more about this then he did, well, it was to be expected that it would go poorly. There was bound to be a inquiry as to whom it was that captured the 'heartless Maxwell's heart.' He could even hear the gentle ribbing in Wilson's voice just thinking of one of the many epithets the other used. The taunting had become comfortable and expected.

His 'whom' was currently staring at him, evaluating him, and Maxwell was continuing to avoid his gaze. Ever since he'd given him something that was barely a reply, Wilson was just watching.

Couldn't this just be over already? The last coughing fit was more violent then the last, his throat was raw... and the cherry on top was the fact he'd been followed down here and the most Wilson had done was make sure that he didn't hit the rock bottom of his sanity, a few quietly, oddly concerned words. Why? He didn't deserve by any long shot, wasn't he the one 'affecting everyone else' and such? Wasn't Wilson just making things worse on himself anyway? Why did he care? Maxwell made sure that it, and by extension, himself, were no longer any of Wilson's business. Wasn't that what he wanted?

There was that familiar urge rising in the back of his throat, and in barely any time he was back to hacking up a lung, he pushed forward to keep the blood off of his clothing. The petals past his lips felt larger this time around, something that felt like a full flower a well. The pain was contrasted with the warm hand on his back again, steady circles. The urge to shove him away was as strong as the urge to lean into the hand.

He took a breath and opened his eyes, looking at the mess of blood and flower petals, tongue tracing the cuts on his cheeks and gums, there must have been brambles and thorns mixed into the batch. Maxwell sighed and tried to quell the shaking in his arms. The world was dull, even the fire seemed dull before he closed his eyes, trying to gather his wits again. Heavens, he was exhausted.

His eyes shot open at the sound of a music box ringing in his ears. "Wils- Higgsbury, the fire." He managed out, voice raw as he saw a shadowy hand start to snake towards the fire, and Wilson left his side immediately, a few curses at the dratted thing before he also grabbed some things from his bag. Maxwell figured it was more logs and closed his eyes again, bone deep exhaustion settling in.

There was a gentle nudge at his shoulder, a small mess of mushrooms handed over, including some blue ones, one roasted, one not. Once those were in hand, Wilson wandered back to the fire, and it was silent. He saved the raw one til last, eating the cooked green and blue caps first, before letting the healing properties from the blue mushroom soothe his sore mouth and throat.

Wilson was quietly weaving a flower crown, the silence was... stifling, to put it mildly. But, Maxwell didn't doubt that it was probably because Wilson needed the flower crown if he had any hope of keeping himself together. The pile of petals he still hasn't gotten up to burn looked like it was the equivalent of a whole ring of evil flowers. He tried not to stare, instead turning his head to watch the light and shadows on the cave wall, but he could see a glimpse of that focused, narrowed in on what he was doing look that Wilson tended to have when he was working on something important to him, something he'd been quietly fond of seeing. It made him close his eyes and ignore the painful want in his heart. Why didn't he just leave already?

Instead, there were footsteps coming closer, not away. Maxwell silently debated trying to shove him away somehow but before he could even figure that out, a flower crown was gently settled on top of the awful winter hat he had to wear to stay warm. "We're going to head back to camp." Wilson said, putting a certain insistence behind the 'we.' "I'll see if we don't already have supplies for an effigy or life amulet, if not, well... I'll have to make you a heart or something as back-up. Don't need you hovering around as a ghost for a while if this gets worse."

Maxwell finally opened his eyes, looked up at Wilson and instantly regretted it. Wilson had a sad smile under all that awful beard, and if he was a hopeful man, it almost could have made him think there was something else closer to love there, instead of pity.

The cynic in him said it wasn't even pity. There was probably something he was needed for, though it wasn't completely sensible, considering that everyone's own sanity was in jeopardy if he was around them. The honest truth was probably Wilson being unable to leave a problem alone combined with his tendency to extend help to people. After their initial fist fight after being thrown into the same world, Wilson had passed him a kebab after everything he'd done.

Granted, this was after a day of both of them mulling over everything (acting like children, really, though he'd never admit it,) but it was still surprising. But it meant nothing in the grand scheme of things. Wilson didn't want to have someone's death on his conscious, they didn't exactly care much about one another then.

So this didn't exactly mean much of anything either, now did it?

He just nodded, all the fight gone from him, as much as he should push Wilson away. Instead, Maxwell just gathered all the petals from the cave floor and threw the whole lot into the flame. They at least burned well, they were as good at fueling a blaze as they were at making nightmare fuel. Wilson pulled another torch from his pack and lit it with the fire and started down the pathway.

Maxwell took another second of warmth before following to keep in the light's radius. Didn't need to die in the dark after everything, though... no, it would be pointless. Instead he just tried to keep distance between them, arms crossed to conserve heat as he felt the air grow colder as they made their way back to the exit. The urge to cough was coming back, but thankfully, not bad enough that he couldn't hold it back to swallow the petals down. There wasn't the time for that.

Swallowing the petals was also a bad idea for his sanity, but it was better then making a scene and having Wilson react with the same pity from earlier.

The pair of them shivered the moment they hit wind, right at the mouth of the cave. It was snowing again, and it seemed like the wind was picking up. One last horrible storm before the winter was up.

Still, Maxwell reasoned, if Wilson was dead set at getting back to camp today, they'd just have to brave it. He was too tired to argue against it, not like it mattered much anyway.

If he died again, then he died again.

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silverandwolf · 7 years

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Trapped (Don’t Starve Fic)

(A short-ish [1,800 words] fic from Maxwell’s POV. Huge spoilers for the ending and lore!)

“Maxwell might be looking for this.” No wonder he says something like that. After what I did, it’s no surprise Wilson thinks of me as a demon of sorts. Luring a mortal with promises of knowledge… Yes, the description fits. I pulled so many into this world. But what was I meant to do? I’m stuck here. I can’t leave. I can’t die. I’m forced to stay, only the same song on the gramophone to keep me company. It would drive anyone mad. Pulling others here, watching them, was the only way to distract myself. But I hadn’t always been like that. “You remember it, Charlie, don’t you?” No reply from the darkness around me. I know she’s there, can almost sense her, but she never answers. I don’t even know why I still talk to her. Maybe I just hope… Never mind. In times past, I was honest when I managed to communicate with the other world. Said I was trapped and asked for help. And some people… Some tried to save me, whether they believed I deserved saving, or because they felt like they had to pay for some wrong they did in their life, they came to save me. And I watched them die. Some starved before they even found the door. Some froze in the King of Winter, as I’d called that world. Some went down fighting the hounds and spiders. And some were slain by… I can barely even think it. That she went from the girl I knew to… To whatever she is now. I’m not deluding myself. I know she did, and I know what she does. It’s still hard to believe. And it’s my fault. “I’m sorry, Charlie.” No answer. Only the gramophone.

Something’s changing. I was lost in thought, but now I focus on Wilson again. He was already doing better than I’d thought, and now he’s found the door. I suppose that means I should show myself again. “Oh, you found my portal, did you? You’d think you would have learned your lesson by now. Hmm. Let’s try something a little more challenging now, shall we?” The Game is Afoot. Not the worst world for him, and interesting enough to watch. Wilson is more cunning than I thought, so he might just survive. And after all, I’ve given him the perfect motivation. Not only escaping, but beating me, too. I wonder if he can make it all the way. All those soul-savers and knights in shining armour couldn’t, but he is neither. Just a man tempted when he felt at his lowest, and now desperately looking for a way out. Just like me. To be honest, I never thought about what would happen if somebody did set me free. I know They wouldn’t like it. But everything would be better than this… Throne. “I don’t know if there’s a way to save you, though.” Silence, so I focus my attention on Wilson again. He managed to gather the necessary parts and is on his way further. Impressive. But this time, he lands in King of Winter. Oh well, it was fun while it lasted. “Well, would you look at that, you survived. One down, four to go!”, my apparition tells him, but I doubt he’ll get any further. Few ever managed, and most of them much more experienced in the wilderness than he is. I do my best, but there are many parts of this realm I can barely influence. I’m not in control. They are. If I were, I’d be out of here already, some do-gooder facing whatever They have in store for someone stealing Their prey. But the closer someone comes to me, the less power I have, only able to give a little bit of help to the poor soul coming my direction. But They have the final say. They always do. For a moment, it feels like something is moving in the darkness around me. I try to see something, to no avail. But aside from me, there can only be one other being in this place. “Is it you, Charlie?” Why do I even bother? That fellow Wilson is tough. I thought he’d be dead already, but he’s doing fairly good, actually. Maybe that shaggy beard of his keeps him warm. “Are you watching this, too, Charlie?” I can see Wilson doing it once again, moving further, towards the depth of this realm. Maybe now that he’s left the eternal winter, I can allow myself to have some hope. “What? You’re still here? Impressive, but you should probably stop while you’re ahead.” I want him to go on, but if I was too happy, he might grow suspicious. And I can’t have that. But A Cold Reception should be manageable. Nothing against King of Winter. Of course, I’ve seen the strangest things – a man fighting off dozens of spiders only to die after a bee sting, for example. And all it takes is for him to run out of fuel once, and Charlie will get him. These days, she doesn’t like being seen, so even a tiny spark can keep her at bay. But once in true darkness… I do wonder what she looks like now. I haven’t seen her since we were dragged here. Why is Wilson stopping? He has most things, and it’s obvious where the last one is, so… Wes? Is he really risking his life just to try saving that mime? Maybe I was wrong. He seems to be a knight in shining armour after all. Even to me, without his knowledge. He’s already come further than anyone else, and I’ve never been so close to being rescued. So why am I not happy? I should be cheering. This is all I’d wished for, for so many years, and yet… “Maybe I haven’t lost all my morals after all.” Charlie stays quiet, as always. Staying, that might just be good advice for Wilson, too. After a bit, that world isn’t too awful, especially not compared to what They can do. But he doesn’t. “Say. Pal. Let’s make a deal. You can stay here. Settle down, even. I’ll give you food, gold, pigs, whatever you need. All I want in return is a truce.” I put all I had into this. They still influenced most of the world, but that little part he’s on now was my doing. Really, it might just be better than our original world, if you just ignore the spiders. I don’t want him to come further, closer to this place. As much as I want to leave, I can’t do this to anyone else. Their deaths are one thing, but considering my fate, who knows what They will do to anyone freeing me. And seeing Charlie’s… “Oh, Charlie, could you have forgiven me if you were still yourself?” The blackness around me doesn’t move. Wilson left the part I changed for him. Idiot. If only he knew what was coming for him. I could warn him, but he wouldn’t believe me. I wouldn’t believe me, either. So I just watch him go. That’s it, then. Sugar didn’t work, so I only have one choice. I must stop him. “You insolent, pitiful, insignificant ant! Do not arouse the wrath of the great Maxwell! You will regret coming any further…” Go get him, Charlie. I wasn’t lying, he will regret coming further, so I have to make sure he won’t. Death is better than what They might end up doing to him. There’s no way he can survive eternal night. Winter, yes, but the night invites Charlie. I wish I didn’t have to do this to her. If she were still herself, she’d hate hurting him. But it’s better than the alternative. Yet again, he surprises me. I don’t know how, but he survived. I can’t see him anymore, but there are nights drawing nearer. Just like the lights by my side, they give Charlie no chance to catch him. Then he’s here. It’s the first time we actually see one another, not just watching him like I did, and letting him listen to an illusion of myself. Thank goodness, he turns off the gramophone. “Thank you, I’ve been listening to that song for an eternity. Is this what you were expecting?” Wilson looks a bit confused. “Forgive me if I don’t get up. You’ve been an interesting plaything, but I’ve grown tired of this game. Or maybe They’ve grown tired of me. Heh. Took them long enough.” He’s still angry at me, not that I blame him. But more than that, it looks like he wants answers. Always the scientist, that one. “They’ll show you terrible, beautiful things. It’s best not to fight it.” He understands. It’s just like how he felt when I first talked to him, back in his cottage in the other world. "There wasn’t much here when I showed up. Just dust. And the Void. And Them. I’ve learned so much since then. I’ve built so much. But even a King is bound to the board. You can’t change the rules of the game.” He looks doubtful. As if seeing me trapped here wouldn’t be enough for him to understand. But then again, I did try to make sure to appear as this world’s master. “I don’t know what They want. They… They just watch. Unless you get too close… Then… Well, there’s a reason I stay so dapper.” It seems like he almost understands. No wonder, he probably came close to Them a few times, too. It’s Their world, after all. “What year is it out there? Time moves differently here.” He answers. It’s the first time he actually says anything to me. I’ve been stuck here for barely over a decade. It feels like it’s been centuries. “Go on, stay a while. Keep us company.” He doesn’t seem too thrilled by the idea. Understandable, I suppose. But he doesn’t ask what I mean by ‘us’, either. Maybe he just thinks I’ve gone insane. Sometimes, I wonder the same thing. “Or put the key in the box. It’s your decision.” I watch him inspect the hole, still looking very doubtful. “Either way, you’re just delaying the inevitable. Reality is like that, sometimes.” He looks like he wants to ask something else, but I shake my head. “I think I’ve said enough.” Wilson hesitates. Looks around a bit, but he doesn’t dare venture into the darkness. I’d claim that was a wise decision, but considering the circumstances, Charlie was probably preferable to each and every one of his alternatives. Then, he makes a decision. I can’t believe it. I’ll be free at last. After all I’ve done, I’ll be free. All thanks to him. If only he could save her, too. “Fare well, Charlie.”

#don't starve #maxwell #fanfiction #charlie #wilson

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likelyfantasywriterspsychic · 5 years

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31 Day Angst Challenge

Day 4: Jealousy

So this idea is from my Riverdale fanfic but thanks to re-working some plot points I had to scrap it. But it really works for this challenge therefore I'm gonna use it.

Some backstory. Silver got shot and needed a heart transplant. There wasn't a viable donor, so her boyfriend Xander "Kuja" Maxwell (the nickname is a long story) says that if they can't find someone in time they can use his since he had the proper blood type and a girl getting a man's heart doesn't often cause too many problems, if the size difference isn't overly huge. (I did alot of research for this). A donor does come in but he doesn't tell them so everyone thinks that he died to save her. She is very obviously upset. Six months later she starts hooking up with Harley Sterling. Five months later she stops seeing him because it was becoming too serious. A month later Kuja comes back. Everyone is none to pleased with him. He explains himself and after a while Silver and Kuja are beginning to get close again. This is how Harley reacts.

Some swearing

****

So maybe I was moping. Maybe I deserved it.

Sylvia Nightengale was never someone I ever pictured myself with and not just because she was my little sister's best friend.

She had a boyfriend. She was in a gang. She was four years younger than me. She was loud. She was stubborn. She could take everything I threw at her and fire it all back.

And then she got shot. For a second time. And her boyfriend died so she could keep living. She had been so messed up. And then she went to that stupid party. She had said she needed a change. I wasn't sure that's what she got when she got with me.

We had gotten drunk, both of us. Then somehow we had ended up on a bed upstairs kissing with our clothes all the way off.

She was amazing in bed.

She was smart.

She was funny.

She didn't take any of my crap.

I had been falling in love.

She had been having a distraction.

She realized it. Of course she did. The girl was insane, not an idiot. She knew I had started falling for her and she broke it off. I tried to act cool, after all I wasn't called the king of one nighters for nothing.

But damn it had hurt.

She used me and threw me away and yeah, I saw the damn irony. I had done the same to all the girls I had slept with. Maybe it was Karma. Maybe it was just bad damn luck that I feel in love with the only girl in Riverdale that would never love anyone more than her first boyfriend.

Then the bastard came back from the dead. Maybe I had a shot at winning her back, but now it was hopeless. You could see it. Whenever they were in the same room it was like someone a flipped a switch in her and she'd just start glowing. They didn't even have to look at each other or be touching in anyway. They just had to be in the same room and they glowed.

It set my damn teeth on edge.

And now they were over at the house and they were together again, and she was happy, and smiling in a way that I hadn't seen for a full year. She was happy. And it should have been good. I should have been glad that she was back to herself and that she was content again and not sad and bleeding.

But.

But I wanted her to smile like that for me. I wanted her to look at me with those big adoring eyes.

Every time she brushed her hand against him, every time she leaned into him, every time she touched him, my vision went red. Every time Kuja smiled at her and gave her a little innocent kiss on the cheek or forehead, everytime he looked her way, as if she was the only thing that mattered to him?

I wanted to take one of dad's deadly kitchen knives and slit his throat.

He had no idea what Sylvia had been like after he had "died". He knew her past, he knew all the shit she had been through and he still did it.

And they he came back and expected her to fall back into his arms as if nothing happened?!

My only bright side was that it had taken Sylvia a damn long time to forgive him. And even longer to get back with him. But everyone knew it would happen. They were just so damn obvious. People would have to be completely oblivious, deaf and blind not to realize how much they loved each other.

I never had a chance.

I knew that and yet--

"Harley, you're attacking those potatoes like they killed one of the dogs." Louis said blandly.

"Something on you're mind, oh king of migraines?" Jessie questioned.

"Shut up Queen Jessie or I'll dump all your skin care products down the sink." I snapped at my brother. Jessie and his boyfriend, Luke, I think that was his name, looked at me in horror.

"Come on Harles, don't be a mister frowny pants." Sylvia teased me gently, "everyone knows that's Louis' job."

Come on play like we used too.

That's what she was saying to me. But you know what? I sooo was not up for a verbal sparring match with my ex.

Louis frowned. "You know what kid--"

"Oh my goooood." Frankie rolled her eyes. "You all can't go one dinner without doing this can you?"

"Admit it baby sis," Jessie said giving her a winning smile. "If we didn't you'd think we were dying."

"Can we not say the D-word, please?" Sylvia asked and I just knew that have had grabbed her boyfriends hand under the table.

"Defenestration?" Louis asked.

"Dapocaginous?" Frankie chimed in.

"Dendrochronology?" Luke asked.

"Dentiloquent?" Frankie's boyfriend added.

"Dicks?" Jessie smiled.

Everyone groaned. I looked around the table, with a pit in my stomach. I pushed the plate away. "May I be excused?" I asked.

"You've barely touched your food," my mom said.

"I had a big lunch." I threw my napkin on my plate.

"Well alright I'll package it up for later in case you do get hungry."

Not bloody likely. I thought. I stomped up to my room and slammed the door collapsing onto my bed.

Everyone has some. Frankie has Aaron. Louis has Indiana. Jessie has Luke. Mom has dad. Will's got Bailey. Charlie has Maya. Sylvia has Xander back. Me and Sebastian were the only ones with out someone. And at least Sebastian has Kero, who is an actual good friend. But me?

I'm alone. That used to be fine. It wasn't until Sylvia had crashed into my orbit and thrown everything off kilter that I had realised just how lonely I really was.

I wanted it. I wanted what my brothers had. I wanted Sylvia goddammit!

I sighed and threw an arm over my eyes blocking out the light.

Time to admit it. I was jealous. I was so very jealous.

I picked up my phone and scrolled threw the numbers. I needed a good fuck to clear my head that's all. It had been what? Four months since I'd had a good screw?

God for me that was more like ten years. No wonder I was going insane.

I looked through their pictures. Finally I settled on one with hair so light it was almost white and light blue eyes. Her name was... Cynthia.

Right?

Yes, Cynthia. I remembered now.

She was in my auto tech class, and damn did the girl know her way around a wrench.

I tried not to think too much about why Cynthia appealed to me tonight more than any of my other girls.

It couldn't be because she was a blonde haired, blue eyed, car junkie who just happened to ride a motorcycle and wore a leather jacket most of the time.

Sonofabitch.

I must really have it bad.

I shook my head, trying to clear those thoughts away. The only thing that was important right now was that I was getting laid tonight. Anything else was redundant.

I shrugged on my own leather coat, slicked back my hair and grabbed my keys.

...It was a coincidence.

I shoved my fist through the wall of my room as I walked out.

One big, damn, coincidence.

#writing #writing challenge #snippet #jealousy #jealosy #not a pr0mpt

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never-to-be-homeless · 7 years

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Hey Charlie, it’s Max. (you can tag this as #maxwell to distinguish me from another Max who’s been on this blog before and to make organization easier). I’ve been on this blog before for help, under the pseudonym of Rob, and I haven’t been on here for a while, but I want to come back because I think it will help. So here I am. The problem now, though, is that I have so many things going on that I don’t know where to start. For ease of organizing a response, I’ll number the topics. (1/?)

1) I’ve started harming again in the past bunch of weeks, after not having done so since August, I believe, and although I don’t think it’s too bad, it’s worse than it has been in a while. 2) I’ve also had on-and-off problems with eating; specifically, not eating enough. Sometimes I go upwards of a few days with nothing to eat. I have a number of friends who are concerned about me and try to help and make sure I eat, but that often doesn’t help, and in one case I was thrown into a mild (2/?)

panic attack because a couple of friends wouldn’t leave me alone and kept insisting that I eat. Again, I don’t think this is a terribly dire problem, because it could be a lot worse, but it’s enough to cause concern. 3) Furthermore, my anxiety has been acting up more than usual recently. Attacks are becoming more frequent again and even in situations where I can force myself to keep it from going too far (in class, for example), it’s physically very uncomfortable and hard to manage. (3/?)

Like the other two problems so far, this isn’t too bad; as I mentioned, since this is something I’ve become somewhat used to, I’m getting better at hiding it, so that’s really good, actually. 4) I’ve been having suicidal thoughts regularly, although some days it’s much worse than others. Generally, I’m okay and don’t have the intention to act immediately on those thoughts, but every once in a while, it gets worse and I’m afraid I might actually do something that I’ll regret. A couple of (4/?)

weeks ago I had one night that was so bad that I was afraid to even get out of bed and go to the bathroom because I didn’t know if, once I was up, I would find something to hurt myself with. Aside from that night and a scattered couple of others of lower intensity, I haven’t done anything more than just think about it since the end of October. 5) Although I haven’t been officially diagnosed, I think depression plays a key role in my mental health issues. I frequently feel insignificant, (5/?)

not good enough, a burden, an inconvenience, a disappointment, a problem, a waste of time and space, and so much more along those lines. Despite all the people around me who take care to remind me that none of that is true, nothing they say ever sinks in; I can’t accept it as true. They have to be lying; or they feel obligated to try to help. Anything makes more sense than what they tell me. I’m able to take a step back and evaluate that, logically, I should be able to trust and believe (6/?)

them, but everything inside of me is saying that it’s all a bunch of lies. Why can’t I believe them? I love and trust and care about them, and they love and trust and care about me, so why do I doubt everything they say regarding this? I think this is a good place to stop for now. I’m sorry for taking up so much of your time and for making this ask so tediously long to read, but if you could please offer me any sort of advice I’d really appreciate it. Thank you so much, Charlie. Love, Max. (7/7)

Hey Max, Charlie here.

Have you ever tried alternatives for self harm? For example, some people find snapping a rubber band on their wrists or they squeeze ice hard in their hand/against wherever they want to cut. Different methods work for different people. There’s a list of them here that you can sift through and try. Some cause physical sensation, others are outward expressions of the feeling that you have when you want to harm, and others are distractions from what you’re feeling.

If none of those work I would seriously consider seeking out counseling help of some kind, which I would already recommend based on everything else you’ve told me. Eating disorders are complex things and there are no simple solutions. As non-severe as it may seem to you, to your friends it’s possibly quite worrisome, they’re possibly scared of what may be happening to you and your body when you don’t eat for that long. However, they cannot simply force you to eat and hope it makes you better. A doctor or a therapist at the very least will be able to provide you with actual treatment options that can help you overcome the issues you’re facing, including the self-harm, eating problems, suicidal thoughts, and possible depression and anxiety as well, which can also cause your lapse in self image.

Mental health can tell you lies that you believe. It can make you feel insignificant even though it’s the furthest from the truth. There are ways to change your thinking to manage those thoughts and keep them at bay. You’re already a step ahead - you’ve recognized the thoughts as being inaccurate and untrue even though you don’t feel that way. It’s not your fault for thinking that way. The problem isn’t that you’re having negative thoughts, its that your mind has tricked you into believing them. There are ways to try to negate them. Try to begin to challenge those thoughts. For example, rather than saying “I’m insignificant,” make yourself think “I am having the thought that I am insignificant, even though I know that it is not true.” Then, thinking of them in a silly way as ridiculous as it may feel may help you realize that the thoughts aren’t true. You could try to sing them or say them in a silly voice. It may help, but as with alternative self harm techniques, some may not be effective for you. Seeking professional help is the best option in the end, though.

I understand that sometimes professionals are expensive and people can’t afford them, even with insurance. Sometimes if you call a hotline (or use an online one like this one) they can provide you with free or very-reduced options in your area that you can go to for the help you need to overcome your struggles. Here is a list of state-by-state resources for America that can direct you to someone close to you. Even just a diagnosis can help you feel validated in your feelings and your struggles, not to mention assistance in overcoming them from an objective person or persons such as a therapist or psychiatrist.

You never have to apologize to us and you can make your asks as lengthy as you’d like, Max. We’re here to help you in any way we can. You are always welcome to talk to us here.

Keep me updated, okay?

Love, Charlie

#answered by Charlie #maxwell #rob #admin: Spirit #self harm #tw: self harm #suicidal thoughts #tw: suicidal thoughts #eating disorder #tw: eating disorder #depression #tw: depression #anxiety #tw: anxiety #Anonymous

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someone-im-close-to-fanfic-blog · 7 years

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Chapter 9-Run.

As the title says. Get on it, everybody.

Chapter Rating: PG13. Boy, does Wilson have a bad mouth when he’s mad.

When Wilson finally settled into his tent, it took a moment to realize his sister wasn’t in there with him. Realization hit like a brick when it finally set in.

“Ohh no.” Panic quickly set in and he glanced around rapidly. “Willow?” Where could she be at this hour? A thousand possible ideas raced through his mind, so quickly, in fact, that he was about two seconds away from completely blanking out when someone opened the tent.

“Oh, god. Wilson?” Willow’s hair was untied and messy, her shirt crudely buttoned and her collar crooked. “Uh...hi.”

“Where were you?!” Wilson demanded. “I was on the verge of a mental breakdown!”

“Sorry, sorry!” Willow crawled into the tent next to her brother and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “I’m...I was just...I thought I had more time…”

“Where were you?” Wilson asked again, a bit less angry this time now that he’d seen what state she was in. He had a pretty good idea of where she’d been now. She mumbled something in response. “Hm?”

“Wigfrid’s tent.” She said sheepishly, her face a little flushed. “I’m sorry, I thought you’d stay out later…” She let go of Wilson and buried her face in her hands, embarrassed.

Wilson processed this for a moment. “About what I would have expected. Whatever happened to ‘planned on dating’? I mean, I’m not upset with you or anything, except for your not telling me you’d be screwing around with her and would be back late and instead left me here to have a heart attack over your absence…”

“Buzz off! We weren’t...ugh.” Willow huffed. “Look, I’m as stressed as you, alright? We both are. Neither of us are sure how long we’ve got left, what with recent events and everything, Winnie’s scared out of her mind that everyone thinks she did it and we’re just trying to get as much time together as possible. Is that a problem?”

“I’d appreciate it if you had at least told me you’d be out late.” Wilson replied bitterly. “But no, it’s not a problem. I was just worried about you is all. Please don’t be mad at me.”

“Well, are you mad at me?” Willow asked.

“No…”

“Then I’m not mad at you.” Willow pecked him on the forehead. “Let’s just go to sleep now, alright? Lighten up. I’m sure you and Maxwell were doing the same thing out there.”

Wilson sighed. “You could be right, you could be wrong.” He flopped back under the sheets and Willow joined him. “Well, goodnight, I guess.”

“Goodnight.”

They fell asleep shortly after.

Almost as soon as he closed his eyes, a blinding white light rendered Wilson sightless for a few brief moments before his eyes focused.

‘Oh, boy.’ He groaned internally, recognizing right away where he was. ‘Not this shit again.’

It was the same room in which Charlie coerced him into almost shooting his sister. Almost.

For a while, Wilson just stood there, motionless, waiting for Charlie to make her move on him. By this point he was pretty damn certain she was the one behind his weird dreams. It would certainly explain why he was unable to control himself for the most part here, at least.

Finally, he got tired of waiting.

“Charlie, come out. I know it’s you.” It was probably the most impulsive and ballsy thing he’d ever said, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. Whatever she wanted to do to him, he wanted over as soon as possible. Just like that, he heard a soft whoosh noise that sent such a strong feeling of surprise through him that it was paralyzing.

“Impatient, aren’t you?” She was right behind him, but the scientist was too scared to turn his head and see what she looked like. “Well, I guess if you’re so desperate to see what I’ve got for you tonight, I’ll let you have it.”

A snap of her fingers and Wilson felt the familiar feeling of a gun pressed into his hand. It was about what he would have expected. He tightened his fingers around it, waiting for his instructions to get this over with as soon as possible.

“Now…” Charlie’s shoes clicked across the floor as she began to pace behind him. “Let’s say you’ve been faced with the choice of having to kill one of two people.” She snapped her fingers again and before him appeared two people--no, illusions of people. Wilson knew better. It was Wigfrid, and to her left was Willow. The blank expressions on their faces gave the scientist the chills.

“You have to choose one.” Charlie suddenly placed a hand on Wilson’s shoulder, and he flinched. Even through his clothing, he could feel how cold her hand was. “You do not have the chance to wake up until you pick.”

Wilson swallowed. This was going to be hard.

‘It’s just a dream.’ He reminded himself. ‘Stay calm.’

“Do you know how to fire a gun?” Charlie asked after a bit of silence.

“Yeah.” Wilson tightened his hands around the weapon. At least his arms could move.

‘It’s just a dream.’ He reminded himself again. ‘Just do it.’ Even still, he couldn’t pull the trigger. Even in a dream, it didn’t feel right. It would never feel right to him.

“Come on, now.” Charlie prompted. “Point the weapon and shoot. Surely a brilliant man like yourself knows how one of these works?”

Part of Wilson wanted to accept the “brilliant man” part as a compliment and the other half wanted to drop everything, turn around, and slap her to the ground for insulting him like that. The man instead bit his lip, pointed the gun at Wigfrid, screwed his eyes shut and pulled the trigger. What he’d expected to hear was the sickening thump of a body hitting the floor and possibly even the sound of Willow screaming at watching her lover die, but neither came, and it only seemed to make the bone-chilling silence of the room even louder.

“Good. Now open your eyes.” Charlie prompted, and Wilson obeyed, because he knew he had no choice. The illusions of Wigfrid and Willow that had stood before him moments before were gone now. “Your eyes are such a pretty shade of gray, you know, both yours and Willow’s.”

“Is that so.” Wilson stared, bewildered, at the empty space before him. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected at this point. It was Charlie pulling the reins here, after all. ‘Expect the unexpected, and prepare for the worst.’

Charlie hummed with approval. “Now, let’s see...what to do with you next? I’m not going to let you wake up just yet.” She began to pace behind him again, making Wilson’s stomach churn. How long had he actually been asleep for, he wondered, and how much longer was Charlie going to make him sleep? A sickening thought crossed his mind for a split second of Willow in tears because her brother had slept so long she thought he was dead, and it made the scientist’s hatred of Charlie and her antics grow even more.

“Don’t worry, I won’t keep you down for too long.” The woman suddenly stopped pacing. “I can tell what you’re thinking, you know, and it’s quite interesting. You must really love Willow, don’t you?”

Out of pure spite, Wilson didn’t respond.

“Playing the quiet game with me, I see. Well, I don’t blame you, but you’ll have to succumb to me sometime.” She laughed. “After all, I do control you, at least in here I do.” She tapped the side of his forehead with a single finger. Wilson found himself frozen again, just before he was to turn around and get a good look at her face. She seemed close enough for him to do so, but he couldn’t, and that bothered him all the more.

“Why are you doing this?” The scientist demanded, trying desperately to prevent himself from succumbing to panic. “That I won’t tell you,” She responded, almost joyfully. “Yet.”

“Then what will you do to me next?” He dreaded the response, but it killed him not to know.

“Again,” She chirped. “I won’t tell.”

Wilson clenched his teeth. He felt trapped, like a lab rat. There was no easily comprehensible way that he could think of to describe how horrible it felt to be held hostage like this, and in his own mind, nonetheless. There must be some way for him to get her to let him go. Suddenly, an idea came into his head. He prayed Charlie wouldn’t find it out.

“I don’t know what it is you want from me, Charlie, but playing god isn’t going to get it from me.” He remarked, a bit flatly.

“Oh really?” She chuckled. “Don’t underestimate me. I could kill you right here if I wanted to.”

“But you won’t. I know you won’t.” He tried to suppress a snicker. He could tell this was quickly going to make her mad, and that amused him. “And what makes you think that?”

“You would have done it already if you wanted to.” He shrugged, saying it like it was common knowledge. Maybe this wasn’t the smartest thing to do, but boy, did it feel good to piss Charlie off like this. “What’s the point of this, anyway? You said you’d plan to tell me later, didn’t you? It’s later now, so go ahead and just say it.”

“Wiseass.” Wilson heard a woosh and felt her grab him by the back of the shirt. “Don’t be smart.”

“Last I checked, my intelligence is the only reason I’ve been able to survive this world for long.” The scientist bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.

“You insolent little shit.” The woman behind him kneed him in the back hard, sending him sprawling onto the floor. The gun in his right hand made a metallic noise as it crashed against the ground with him. “Don’t you dare forget: I control you. I’m more powerful than I’ve let on, you know. Not even all of you and your puny friends, Maxwell included, could take me down if they all worked their hardest and in unison. Therefore, I suggest you quit being such a wiseass to me and learn some obedience. While I’m here, you obey me. No one else.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” Wilson shuddered as he tried to prop himself up on his arms. “I take it you’ve been watching me, haven’t you? During the day, I mean.”

Charlie paused. “I have. Why?”

“Then if there’s one thing you should know about me,” The scientist grabbed the gun next to him. “It’s that no one controls me. Not even you.” He cocked it, the sound of the bullet clicking into its chamber echoing in the room. He held it to the side of his head as he rose to his feet, back still turned to the person behind him, who scoffed.

“Shoot yourself. I don’t care!” She laughed. “You may wake up from it, and you may die. I won’t tell you which it is.” She sang, mockingly. However, she didn’t realize that that wasn’t exactly what he had planned.

“Fine by me.” Wilson raised his finger to pull the trigger. He took a deep breath and, spinning on his heel to face Charlie, quickly moved the gun from his head to point it at her. Only then did he shoot.

For a split second, he saw her face. He could see it was pale and framed by thick black hair that fell around her chin like soft feathers, and her thin eyebrows were raised in surprise at his sudden move. However, as soon as he pulled the trigger, his eyes shot open in the tent and he sat up, panting, and instantly he forgot what the woman looked like. It took him a moment to realize what had just taken place, but once the memory flooded back, he immediately congratulated himself for his fast thinking.

“Willow?” Wilson looked over to his side and saw his sister sleeping peacefully next to him.

‘Oh, thank god. At least I wasn’t too late for that.’ He breathed a sigh of relief. Willow stirred in her sleep, and a few seconds later her eyes fluttered open. She yawned, a bit discombobulated from sleep, and groggily looked up at her brother.

“What time is it?” She mumbled.

Wilson peeked outside the tent and saw the sun beginning to rise over the horizon. He also saw Wigfrid, spear in hand, leaving the camp.

“Your wife is just now leaving, so I’m guessing it’s pretty early.”

“She’s not my wife, you ass.” Willow lightly punched him on the arm as she sat up, but smiled. “I’ll be right back.” She stumbled out of the tent and Wilson watched her run over to Wigfrid, who seemed surprised to find Willow awake this early but was nonetheless delighted. They embraced one another, Wigfrid’s fingers tangled in Willow’s thick black hair that fell all the way down to her waist when untied, and pulled away a while later with a quick kiss. Willow mumbled something into her ear and the redhead gave her a reassuring pat on the back.

“Don’t worry, dear. I’ll be fine.” Wilson heard the performance artist reply in a soothing voice. One more kiss to the forehead from the woman and she was gone. Willow returned with a goofy smile and a blush on her cheeks.

“Well, you two must be going steady.” Wilson exited the tent and yawned, stretching himself out.

“I guess you could say we are.” Willow replied quietly, running her fingers over her cheek. Wilson couldn’t help but feel extremely jealous at how happy she was with Wigfrid. Even though she was younger, he actually had a tendency to get jealous of her for a long time. She was so pretty compared to him, and adults always seemed to treat her better for some reason. There was a time, he remembered guiltily, when he thought that because Willow was a woman, people liked her more. Consequently, he found himself frequently wondering if people would love him more as a girl than a boy. He’d since outgrown that train of thought, but that wasn’t the end of him being jealous of her. He figured there would never be an end to his jealousy, now that he knew she was still alive.

“Lucky.” He blurted. Willow looked at him strangely and then laughed.

“Aww, looks like someone’s jealous.” She lightly punched him on the shoulder.

‘Oh, if only you knew the half of it.’ Wilson thought bitterly, but laughed it off. “Yeah, sure. Let’s get some food in us, then, and since it’s wintertime I guess we need to finish harvesting the rest of the farms to add to our stash of resources. Nothing grows in the winter, so we’ve got to be careful about that.” He explained as the two made their way over to the campfires.

“Ah.” Willow nodded in understanding. “Well. I guess we don’t want any of the plants dying on us, do we? This vest is quite nice. You all make this stuff yourselves?”

Wilson nodded proudly. “Yeah. They’re quite warm. Saved my butt from freezing on more than one occasion.” He grabbed some boards from a chest and started fires in each of the three fire pits.

“Well, let’s just hope I won’t be a victim of freezing this year.” Willow shivered, and not from the cold.

“Oh, Willow, you’ll be alright. We’ll take care of you.” The scientist gave his sister a reassuring pat on the back. “Besides, I’m sure those ten years you spent in roaming around England must’ve taught you a thing or two about winter.”

“Well, you’re right about that.” The woman nodded. “Man. I’ve had a few close calls with death myself, actually, thanks to this time of year.”

“Is that so. Guess that means you’ve got sort of a taste for what it’s like, then.” Wilson began to rummage through the ice boxes like what had just been said was the most normal thing in the world. Willow hummed an affirmative in response.

“So, during winter, what do we plan to do?” She asked, kneeling down next to him and going through the food stash with him.

“To be honest, I’m not sure.” Wilson sighed. “There’s not much we can do besides harvesting meat from traps and such, since none of the farms replenish themselves for the...I’d say three weeks to a month that winter usually lasts.”

“Huh. That’s short.” She remarked. “So you just sit around for that time? Booo-ring.”

“Yeah. Not the best of times, I know.” Wilson sighed. “Time’s pretty fucked here, sis. I’d get used to it.” He thought for a moment. “There’s these wild hounds that usually attack the base once per winter, near the end. They’re annoying, but it’s not like we can’t handle them.”

“Hounds?” Willow raised an eyebrow. “Like wolves?”

“No, not like wolves.” Her brother shook his head. “These dogs are big. I’d say they’d come up to your hip handing on all fours. Pitch black fur most of the time, though I have seen white and red species, and you can’t mistake their barks for anything.” He huffed. “Maxwell once told me that these variations were created when he added a surplus of red and blue gems to a bunch of hounds. Real smart move on his part.” He rolled his eyes sarcastically. “Red ones deal attacks with fire, blue ones deal them with ice. Believe me, they’re annoying and require lots of effort to take down. Big time.”

Willow whistled. “Jesus. That sounds like a mess. How do you handle them?”

“Tooth traps. We’ve got a menagerie of them set up just north of here, to the left of the bees. That takes them out pretty quickly.”

“Oh, I see.”

“Yeah. Still, it’s a bit of a pain to get everyone to get up and get over there, especially if they’re warming up. We’ve got another fire pit set there, though, so unless someone forgets to bring fuel then freezing isn’t a problem.”

Willow chuckled. “You all must be quite experienced in this world.” Her face fell a bit, and she became for solemn. “I guess that’s what ten years of being here will do to you.” She bit her lip and Wilson cupped her cheek.

“Hey, don’t look so sad.” He said, brushing a strand of hair out of her face.

“I’m sorry, I can’t help it.” She sighed bitterly, her grey eyes shifting to the side. “When I think of how long you’ve been here, I wonder just how much you’ve suffered, and…” She sighed, her voice catching in her throat. “It hurts me to think about what happened while I was blindly wandering around for you.”

“Willow…” Wilson paused, her words sinking in. “Hey. Sure, things have gotten bad for me, but in the long run, I really can’t say I’ve suffered.” He thought back to his first days in this realm, looking upon the scenery and breathing in the cleanest air he’d ever been exposed to with awe and amazement. He remembered feeling astounded at the simplicity and yet the diversity of all the life living there, the time a catcoon nuzzled against his leg while he was gathering wood in one world, the way his heart pounded against his ribcage and the pride he felt the first time he successfully managed to ward off a group of hounds. “I mean it. Despite the dangers, this place is nicer than London will ever be.”

“Is that so?” Willow leaned her head against Wilson’s shoulder, and he nodded.

“Think about it. There’s no street rats to bully us, the environment is in stellar condition from what I’ve seen, and everyone who is living here is friendly and sociable at best. Don’t worry.” He kissed her on the forehead. “I’ve been mostly alright in the time we’ve been apart.” He decided right then and there that he could never tell her about the suffering he had been subjected to in this world; it would break her heart to know the truth.

Willow smiled. “Well, if you say so.” She looked up from her brother’s shoulder. “Oh! Look who’s awake. Good morning, Wendy!” The siblings rose to their feet and the blonde child clutched her thermal stone tightly with a yawn.

“Good morning.” Wendy’s voice was monotonous and quiet. She sat down next to the fire and set her stone by it. She mumbled something under her breath as she sat down in front of the conflagration.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Willow asked as her brother started loading one of the crockpots with food.

“Oh...you heard me?” Wendy looked up at Willow, surprised.

“I did.” Willow nodded. “If you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine. I’m just...curious.” Clearly in her time of being here she hadn’t figured out Wendy’s general nature, Wilson thought.

He wanted to stop her and tell her about how Wendy was very sensitive and withdrawn, and how she should probably just leave her be, but Wendy took him by surprise with what she said next.

“Well…” The girl fidgeted with her fingers. “I was wondering if you and Mr. Higgsbury needed any help with making breakfast.”

“Oh! You want to help us out?” Willow looked over at Wilson, a bit surprised as well.

Wendy nodded shyly.

“Well, of course you can.” Willow smiled warmly. “Just heat that stone up a bit and come over when you will. Many hands make light work. Your help would be appreciated.” She ruffled Wendy’s hair lightly, and the child smiled too.

“I...gee. Thanks, Aunt Willow.” She mumbled. Willow looked over to her brother and gave him a thumbs-up.

“You know…” Wendy said as she wandered over to the crockpots with the younger Higgsbury. “You two sort of remind me of how I was with Abigail.”

“Abigail?” Willow asked, looking over to Wilson.

“Her twin sister.” Wilson replied, firing up one of the pots.

Wendy nodded. “She’s dead now, but we were close the way you two are.”

“Oh, I see.” Willow nodded and opened one of the ice boxes.

“She’s been dead for a few years now. I came here shortly afterwards...I’d rather not talk about it.” Wendy mumbled the last part.

“That’s alright.” Willow reassured her quietly, patting her on the back. “Hey, while we’re here, why don’t you help me make some jam for everyone else? Just get some berries from the icebox, there’s a good girl.” Willow smiled in approval as Wendy grabbed a few handfuls of berries and added them to the crockpots.

“I think everyone else should be waking up soon.” Wilson said, looking over to the tents. He could already see Webber stumbling out of his tent.

“Oh! Good morning, Mr. Higgsbury and Aunt Willow and Wendy!” He ran over and hugged Wendy, then Willow, and finally Wilson.

“Well, good morning to you too.” Wilson ruffled the half-spider’s hair affectionately. “Why don’t you help us make breakfast, too?”

Webber smiled and nodded eagerly, and Wilson couldn’t help but feel almost like they were a complete family in that moment. He wondered what he had done to deserve such a thing.

Now, at first, this morning seemed perfectly normal for everybody. They sat down and ate as they came. The Higgsburies and the children gathered what was left from the farms. Maxwell smoked and studied the Codex Umbra between glances up at the siblings and their work, Wolfgang entertained Wes and Woodie with stories about Russia. All was going fairly well for the start of the winter.

That is, it was going well until Wigfrid ran screaming back into the camp.

“Dear god! Everyone, run!” She stopped for a few seconds, panting heavily.

“Wigfrid? What’s wrong?” Woodie asked slowly, concerned as everyone else was.

The redhead held up a finger as she struggled to catch her breath and then held her hand to her ear. A few seconds later, the sound of barking could be heard. It had to be the hounds, Wilson knew that much, and from the volume of it, they were coming close fast.

“Why couldn’t you just take them on yourself? You’re better equipped than any of us.” The scientist grabbed a few of the thermal stones that had been soaking up heat by the fire off the ground, becoming slowly more and more worried. Why hadn’t Wigfrid fought them off? It wasn’t like she couldn’t do it. Maybe they’d have to make a run for it after all.

“There were too many. We have to get to the traps.” Wigfrid shook her head. “Come on, everybody. You know the drill. Wes, grab healing supplies in case we need it. Woodie, fuel. Now. Everyone else, grab some of whatever and get running. We may have to hide out somewhere else; there’s a lot and it could just be too many for the traps to take on. We may have to split up, but I doubt that much.” She looked behind her as the barking drew closer. “Go now! Hurry!”

Immediately, everyone ran to the chests to grab what they could. They already had warm clothing, so they just grabbed fuel and other resources. Willow and Wolfgang grabbed packs and stocked up on food. Wilson grabbed a few tools and some torches in case he had to light anything up. Then again, Willow had her lighter for that, but it was always nice to have anything extra on hand, as he’d learned.

“Oh, shit!” Wigfrid cried, clutching her spear. “They’re here! Move it, MOVE IT!” In the distance, Wilson could see a massive pack of shadowy figures running right towards them and knew they didn’t have much time. Quickly, he grabbed Willow’s hand and led the group to the tooth traps.

“This way!” His bag bounced against his back and his feet hit the ground so hard it stung as he and the others desperately tried to outrun the dogs. They ran to an area with stone walls surrounding a square area of land, a long and narrow entryway that twisted and turned, and tooth traps littering the ground for a good three meters in. Everyone ran through the entryway, some occasionally colliding with the walls, until they came to a small space surrounded by the walls with a campfire and a few chests in the middle.

“Woodie, start up the fire. I’ll keep a lookout for those dogs, see how long it takes to kill them.” Wigfrid said, standing on one of the chests to look over the walls surrounding them. Wilson managed to hop up next to her for a second, and his jaw dropped at the amount of hounds that had been following them.

“Good god, there must be at least twenty-five of those!” He marvelled, both amazed and terrified. He counted, and there were twenty-six. Close enough. Lately, everyone had noticed that when the hounds did attack, they were more aggressive than before and came in higher numbers, but the most they’d ever taken on at once was ten. They’d come just as the end of summer came around and everyone was forced to wait them out for what felt like hours in these stone walls. That’s what led to Wilson and Wolfgang taking it upon themselves to reinforce the place; they knew it was only getting worse from here. Never in a million years, though, would they have guessed that it would have gotten this bad this quickly. On top of that, Wilson noticed, not all of them were jet black. There were some red hounds and blue hounds thrown in there, too.

“Yeah.” Wigfrid shook her head. “Christ. Fire hounds in winter? Never seen it before.”

“None of us have.” Wilson hopped down from the chest.

“What’s the situation?” Willow asked him, holding a frightened Webber close to her. “There, there, child, everything’s going to be alright.” She turned her head to the quivering child and said before turning her attention back to her brother.

“Bad.” The scientist shook his head. “This is the biggest group we’ve ever seen. Twenty-six, if I counted correctly, and it’s mixed company.” She looked confused at this statement, so he clarified. “Red, blue, and black hounds. Not good. We’ve never seen it before, so we’ve got no idea how we’re to deal with it.”

“That sounds terrible.” Willow’s eyes widened in fear.

“Not to worry, though, dear sister. These traps are mostly fireproof, and if nothing goes wrong then we’ll be in and out of here soon.”

“Might wanna bite your tongue, because something did go wrong.Very wrong.” Wigfrid’s eyes widened with terror and she looked back at the group. “Those hounds aren’t taking any damage from the traps.”

“What?!” Everyone shouted and exchanged looks of panic.

“Impossible.” Maxwell mumbled. Wigfrid shook her head.

“Yeah, apparently not.” She groaned, holding her weapon close to her. “What joy.”

“What do we do?” Webber asked, clutching onto Wendy’s hand.

“If they won’t take damage from the traps, we can’t fight them off.” Wilson re-adjusted the backpack on his shoulders. “We have to make a run for it.”

“But where to?!” Tensions grew stronger as the sounds of barking grew louder.

“There’s a cave system below us. We’ll wait them out there.” Wilson stood up on one of the chests, ready to vault himself over.

“What?! That’s crazy, the nearest entrance will take forever to get to!” Woodie objected.

“Do you have a better idea?” Willow snapped, joining her brother on the chest.

“Well...no.” The lumberjack admitted. A dog barked, and everyone turned to see a fire hound standing right behind them. As Wigfrid had said, it appeared to take no damage from the tooth trap it was standing directly on top of.

“Ohhhh my god.” Wilson grabbed onto the top of the stone wall, preparing to pull himself over. “RUN!”

Thinking fast, Wigfrid switched out her spear for a tentacle spike and whacked the hound across the face as hard as she could. The dog was flung into the side of the wall and snarled, shaking its head to try and alleviate some of the damage it had taken.

“I’ll try and hold them off!” The redhead shouted as everyone ran helter-skelter for the walls, trying desperately to fit onto the chests and lift themselves over. Willow and Wes saw the children having difficulty getting over, and climbed onto the wall before turning around and pulling Webber and Wendy up with them.

“I think it’s just north of here!” Wilson looked around quickly as the hounds’ barking drew ever closer. It was only a matter of time before they’d find out they weren’t in there.

“Winnie! Come on!” Willow shouted as she helped Wendy to her feet after the two jumped off the wall together. A moment later, the redhead bounded over the wall, an ice hound following her. She turned around and gave the dog a good, hard smack with the tentacle spike and motioned for everyone to get going.

They needn’t be told twice. Despite the bitter cold and the wind stinging their faces, they ran farther away from the base, legs burning. Wilson bit hit lip and tried to remember where the nearest hole leading to the underground caves were.

‘A bit to the east of here and past a forest of pine trees.’ That sounded about right. When they got there, they’d all clamber down into the caves if the hounds persisted and stay in all day. While the group never made it a priority to head underground often, the few times they had been there resulted in them building a fire pit and some crafting areas not too far from the entrance. They’d also found some berry bushes and trees somehow managing to grow down there, and they would use those for materials and food if they ran out. He doubted they’d be down there for very long, though, so it likely would not be needed for them to gather additional supplies.

The scientist looked behind him and saw that Wes and a few of the others were becoming weakened by lack of stamina. Wendy in particular seemed to be suffering. A mere ten meters behind them, the hounds continued to tail them.

“Jesus!” He groaned. “Will they ever give it up!”

He happened to refocus on the group just in time to see Wendy trip over a rock and fall on her face with a scream.

“Oh my god!” Wilson froze dead in his tracks and was nearly trampled by his sister and Maxwell. Thinking fast, he dove for her, and despite the exhaustion that was rapidly setting in he managed to pick her up and dash off again with her over his shoulder.

“Ow…” Wendy mumbled into Wilson’s neck, too spent to say much of anything else.

“It’s alright, kiddo. We’ll get to safety in a moment.” He promised softly, one arm on her back and one under her thighs to support her. Her left knee was bleeding badly, and blood trickled down her leg into the dirty white fabric of her sock.

“I hope so.” Her thick, blonde curls were tangled and matted, bouncing in messy bunches against her back as Wilson carried her. Luckily, the forest through which they had to travel next was just up ahead, and they made it through that without much of a problem.

“Alright, we’re here.” They stopped for a moment at the mouth of the cave, which was a large hole about five feet in diameter with a rope dangling from a tree down into the darkness below. The hounds had been lost a while back, but the barking continued to persist, and they couldn’t take any chances. Wigfrid held her arms up behind her head and was breathing deeply, trying to increase the amount of oxygen entering her lungs. “Who’s first?” She wheezed.

“I’ll go.” Willow volunteered. Everyone else was too tired to object. “I’ll give you the all-clear if it’s safe.” Wigfrid handed her the rope, not so subtly brushing the other’s knuckles with her fingertips in the process, and Willow descended down into the caves without much of a problem. There was a silence, and then her voice echoed up “All clear. Come on down!”

“Frailest go down first. That way, if those things catch up then the stronger and more able ones can fend them off.” Wigfrid shot a glance at Wes. “No offense.”

Wes shrugged. None taken.

“So, who’s going next?” Wigfrid looked around.

“Wendy’s got a hurt knee. Send her down, then Webber, then Wes and then Maxwell.” Wilson panted, letting the child in his arms down. The blood on her leg had clotted, but the marks were still nasty as ever, and the trail of dried blood didn’t aid the effect. Woodie whistled, just about summing up how everyone else felt about the nasty gash on her leg.

“We’ll treat it when you get down there, okay, sweetie?” Wigfrid cooed as she handed the child the rope. “There you go. Legs around the rope, like that. Willow! You’ve got a kid comin’ down, you better catch her!”

She let the rope go and Wendy slid down about as gracefully as one could with a hurt knee. So it went with everybody else, with Wigfrid herself being the last to come down. The caves were dark and ominous, but lightbulb plants lit up the place every now and then, and the silence was actually fairly nice. Wilson smiled to himself knowing those dogs would never follow them down there, and that they were prepared to wait them out if needed.

“So what’s everybody got on them?” Of course the first thing Wigfrid would do was take charge. Normally, that was Wilson’s job and she knew it, but the scientist figured she just wanted to show off to Willow. He wasn’t about to stop her.

Everyone who brought a pack with them opened it. Willow had brought a surplus of food; likely enough to last them a night and then some if needed. Woodie and Wolfgang had brought wood boards, grass, and sticks. Wes brought varied healing supplies, as one would have expected from him. Wilson had brought the tools, and Wigfrid had brought the weaponry. Maxwell had brought a small mix of what everyone else had, as well as two miner helmets.

“Why would you bring these?” Wigfrid asked, turning one over in her hand. “We didn’t realize we’d come down here until the last minute.” She eyed him suspiciously.

“The hounds have gotten more aggressive. I feared we may have to wait them out until night fell, and in a way, I guess I was right.” He smirked with the last sentence and Wigfrid looked a bit irked with him. Wilson couldn’t help but feel a pang of admiration for his thinking ahead, even if it was a bit fishy and oddly specific way of thinking ahead.

“Let’s rest up here a bit.” Willow insisted, grabbing some medicine from Wes’ pile. “Wendy’s got a leg that needs mending, and it’s not safe for us to split up down here in this condition.”

Wilson ran his fingers across the bandages that covered his own arm, but it didn’t register in his head that he might need to change them. Wes propped Wendy’s back up against a rock and skillfully disinfected and bandaged her knee. If it hurt her any, she didn’t show it. Webber clung to Willow’s side, trembling with all sorts of emotions at once.

“Hey, it’s alright.” She whispered to him soothingly. “They can’t get us now. We’re safe. There, there. No reason to be afraid.”

Wilson smiled fondly at how motherly his sister was in that moment. The children would certainly grow up to become good people with a figure like her in their life, and again the pang of pride that came from being related to her made him sigh contentedly. His legs no longer hurt, and down here was cold but strangely not as cold as outside was, so he felt at ease. Maybe, he thought, we could wait out the entire winter down here.

“So.” Woodie leaned back against the wall of the cavern. “What’s the plan? Where to?” He fidgeted with Lucy in his hands.

“I say we head in a bit deeper, to where the fire pits are.” Wigfrid insisted, spinning the tentacle spike with her wrist.

Wolfgang shuddered. “What wrong with here?”

“We risk freezing if we stay here too long.” Maxwell looked up at the mouth of the cave that was just five feet to the right and a good twenty feet above where they all collectively stood. “We need those pits to stay warm.”

“A good point.” Willow flipped out her lighter. “And I could really use a nice fire right now to calm my nerves. I’ll admit, I’ve never been a fan of the dark.”

“Truly, none of us are.” Wilson sighed. “So how long will it take to get there?”

“Not too long. Who’s got the stuff to make torches again?” Woodie handed Wigfrid some grass and twigs, and she fashioned them into two torches. “Alright. Willow, light them up and you can carry one. That lighter of yours, while pretty, doesn’t give us enough light to see five feet in front of us.”

“Yeah, I know.” Willow carefully lit the torches and took one. “Who’s gonna take the other?”

“Let Maxwell do it.” Wilson said. “He’s like a walking lamp-post with one of those.” He teased, earning a laugh from the others, Maxwell included. He looked over to Wendy “How’s your leg?”

She tried to stand up and gasped with pain. “Hurts, but I think I’ll be fine.”

“You sure you don’t need any help walking?” Wilson cocked an eyebrow. She didn’t look so steady yet. “It’s not that far, I can carry you again if you want.”

Wendy blushed, embarrassed. “Well...okay. Sure.” Wilson picked her up again, and she buried her face in his shirt. “Thanks.” She mumbled.

“No problem, kiddo.” He replied, equally as quiet.

“Aunt Willow…” Webber tugged at the cuff of the female Higgsbury’s shirt. “Can you carry me, too?”

Willow considered this for a moment. “Well, why not. Come here, you.” She picked up Webber and held him the same way Wilson held the girl, looking over Webber’s shoulder to see what was ahead of her. “Lead the way, Maxwell.”

Maxwell paused for a moment before motioning for the group to follow him and they set off. Wilson stayed close to the man holding the torch, with Wolfgang and the others following close behind. Willow stood by him, too. Webber and Wendy’s fingers locked together as they walked, too tired to do much else.

“Maxwell.” Wilson asked, nudging the magician’s side gently to get his attention. “How long do you suppose it will take to get there? I haven’t been down here in ages.”

“I vaguely remember it being a few paces more from here.” Maxwell sighed. “But you’re right, it has been a while since any of us have been down here. I certainly hope we don’t run into anything nasty down here.”

“Yeah. So do I.” Wilson agreed and, carefully balancing Wendy with his good arm, held Maxwell’s spare hand with his own. The magician seemed a bit surprised at the gesture at first but gently squeezed the other man’s hand, letting him know that it was okay. Wilson smiled, feeling a bit less tense about the situation. He would have done more, leaned in closer to his side and mumbled some disgustingly sweet words to him, but there were people around and he was carrying a child, so no way in hell was he going to do that.

Five minutes passed, and then ten. At the five minute mark they had to switch out torches, and the second time they had to do so Wolfgang nervously asked if Maxwell was sure they were going in the right direction.

“I don’t know, honestly. Wigfrid, were we?”

“What a great time to ask.” The redhead rolled her eyes. “If memory serves, then yeah. We were. Maybe we just came in at the wrong angle and missed the camp.”

“God, I hope not! How will we get back if we did?” Willow asked.

“We’ve been going in a straight line the whole time, right? All we’ve gotta do is go back the opposite way. No worries.” Her brother shrugged. “I think we should just stay here a bit longer before we head back to check for those overgrown dogs.”

Everyone mulled over this for a moment before nodding in agreement.

“Yeah. Besides, how long could it have possibly been since we came down?” Woodie asked.

“Years.” Willow joked, earning an uneasy laugh from everyone else.

“Yeah, right. Hey, Maxwell, hand me the torch, will you?” Wilson looked up to see the magician focused on something in front of them. “I’m gonna try to--Maxwell?”

“Am I the only one who sees that?” The taller man pointed a thumb to something in the shadows. Wilson strained his eyes to see it, but when they focused, he saw something towering over all of them in the distance. He might not have seen it if not for Maxwell pointing it out.

“The hell is that thing?” Wigfrid stepped closer, trying to get a better view.

“Do you think it’s alive…?” Woodie asked cautiously, holding tightly to Wes with one hand and Lucy with the other.

“Doubt it.” Maxwell advanced forward a few paces and the torch’s light revealed that whatever it was was made of metal and wood. It was tall and dark, with gears protruding from the sides in a way that made it look built by an amateur inventor. Despite how dark the caves were, clusters of red roses appeared to be thriving at the base of the machine, the vines snaking up the sides and the red flowers blooming all over. It appeared to be a kind of machine, but for what? A feeling of dread crept through Wilson’s body. Something about this rickety structure was oddly familiar, and quickly remembered why. It looked almost exactly like the portal he’d used to bring himself here.

“What do you think it is?” Woodie moved in closer to have a better look at a machine.

“It looks like a portal.” Wilson said, a bit unsteadily. “Wendy, I’m going to have to put you down.”

Wendy “aww”ed softly, but didn’t object any further as the scientist put her down.

“A portal? Hah! You’re crazy.” Wigfrid scoffed.

“Actually, he’s right, Winnie.” Willow softly placed a hand on Wilson’s arm, letting Webber down as well. “It looks oddly like the one I found that brought me here. Besides, do you have a better notion of what this might be?”

Wigfrid huffed and considered this for a moment. “Well...I guess you’re right. But if that’s the case, what should we do with it?”

“Don’t touch it.” Maxwell commanded. “Don’t touch it, don’t go anywhere near it, don’t so much as try to activate it. We have no idea where it’s going to take us, or who or what is on the other side, and if we go in there’s no guarantee we’ll come out alive.”

“He’s got a point.” Wilson eyed the roses growing around the base of the portal. The only way he could think of that flowers could grow down here would be from Charlie, and he was not about to mess with anything that had to do with her. Not after what had happened last night. “I say we just turn back and try to find our way out of here.”

“So do I.” Willow bit her lip. “I almost want to say that it was a bad idea to find this thing in the first place.”

Everyone else nodded in agreement.

“Then let’s get on it.” Wilson handed Maxwell the torch back, trying to brush his hand as subtly as possible but failing. “Wendy, are you good to walk on your own?”

The girl moved her knee back and forth. “It hurts, of course, but I think I’ll be fine.”

Wilson nodded. “Well, that’s good. Anyone have any idea how long we’ve been walking?”

“I’d say we’ve been wandering about for anywhere between fifteen and twenty minutes, judging by the amount of torches we’ve gone through plus how long we’ve just stood around talking.” Woodie said, checking the supply of materials in his bag.

“Yeah, uh...about that.” Wendy piped up. “Why didn’t we suspect something was up after we went through our first few torches? Like, I don’t think it was that far away, and I’m sure the rest of you remember that base the same way.” “I think it was just a collective case of ‘this seems a bit fishy but I’m probably wrong about that so I’m going to keep my mouth shut’-itis.” Webber offered.

“Probably.” Wilson chuckled bitterly. ‘We adults can really be stupid at times, can’t we?’

“We should probably make it our next task to just turn back and find the camp then, shouldn’t--” Willow was cut off by a strange noise some distance away. It echoed across the walls of the cave, and it took a few seconds for everyone to process that it happened.

“What was that?” Wilson instinctively grabbed Willow’s hand. They heard it again, louder this time. It was the distinct sound of hounds barking.

“No way.” Wigfrid groaned. “No actual fucking way. How did they get down here?”

“No idea.” Willow grabbed her brother’s hand. “Great. We’re basically cornered and we’ve got two children with us, one of them badly hurt. What do you all suggest we do?”

“We run.” Woodie answered, pulled Wes close to him and clutching tightly to his axe.

“But to where?” Webber clung to Willow, arms around her hip.

Wilson’s eyes flicked over to the portal behind them. Maxwell caught him doing so.

:Oh, no. Oh no, no, no. We are not going through there, Higgsbury.”

“Do we have a choice?” He placed his other hand on Wendy’s shoulder and defiantly looked up at the man standing next to him. “Think about it. There aren’t enough weapons to go around, certainly not enough armour to go around, and if we die and leave the children to fend for themselves, then they’re fucked, to put it lightly. Besides that, unless there’s a new breed of underground hound that we’ve yet to discover, then something tells me those beasts found a way down here without cracking their skulls open. If that’s the case, then our weapons and such will be completely useless against them since apparently not even the tooth traps can hurt them! Seeing as we’ve quite literally driven ourselves into a wall here, I suggest you comply with this idea unless you or anyone else for that matter can come up with a better idea.” He looked around at each and every other person standing there, too. “Well? Anyone care to derive a way for us to un-fuck ourselves right now?”

Everyone slowly exchanged glances and shook their heads.

“Then it’s through the portal for us.” Wilson took a deep breath and removed his hands from Willow’s grasp and Wendy’s shoulder. “Maxwell. Torch.” He held out his hand and the magician placed the torch in it, a bit shakily. The tone in Wilson’s voice was firm and serious, which made him a tad bit frightening to even the mighty Wolfgang.

“I think here’s the lever to activate this thing.” Wilson pointed to a protrusion in the side of the portal as the sounds of barking grew steadily louder. He handed the torch back to Maxwell. “Quickly, Willow, throw the switch! They’ll be here any minute!”

Willow nodded without hesitation and flipped the lever downwards, causing the gears on the machine to turn and whir. A group of black shadow hands crept up from the ground, grabbing one person each around the waist. Willow and a few others screamed with fear at the unexpected appendages and Wilson held his breath, closing his eyes as he felt the hands pulling him downwards. For a moment he heard the sound of a final hound barking, and then there was nothing.

#don't starve #story #chapter 9

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torentialtribute · 5 years

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SFA must stop repeating the same old failures, says Steven Pressley

Like the man who arrived downstairs at Cameron House one morning after a game to find captain and keeper who had a drinking session with him to breakfast, Steven Pressley has seen the Scottish national team in a pretty bad way

What alerts the former Scotland coach of the first team about the current state of decline is noticing how the SFA stumbles aimlessly through yet another was doomed with about as much willingness as Barry Ferguson and Allan McGregor shuffling to their beds that fateful spring day 10 years ago

Two games to a qualifying campaign for the European Championship – one of them the 3-0 humiliation by Kazakhstan – and the manager and entire supervisors are fired.

Carlisle United manager Steven Pressley is concerned about the apparent lack of a SFA plan "

Carlisle United manager Steven Pressley worries about the apparent lack of a plan

Carlisle United manager Steven Pressley is worried about the apparent lack of a plan

Alex McLeish was shown the door as Gordon Strachan and Craig Levein for him because of the results deemed to be not enough.

Perhaps it is ambitious to say that another will follow soon.

And the prospect of an in-house designation of species becomes driven, one that introduces Malky Mackay and Scot Gemmill to the hotseat.Whatever the outcome, the worrying fear of Pressley is that the appointment of another manager hoping to cause a revolution at Euro 2020, not l succeed in tackling long-term problems.

I am worried because I look back and see the same theme. This is the same process all over again, & # 39; said Pressley, who won 32 caps for Scotland.

& # 39; I think the SFA should take a long, hard look at itself. I don't see what the clear plan is. & # 39;

Strachan got a second chance and a new contract after finishing fourth in the Euro 2016 qualifying group – and then let go after a hugely encouraging undefeated series of six matches that came close to being in keep the 2018 World Cup alive.

The then chief executive Stewart Regan embarked on his unsuccessful pursuit of Northern Ireland's Michael O & # 39; Neill. The second McLeish, ruled by Rod Petrie and Alan McRae, has now stalled after 14 months.

& # 39; I think it is a bad decision to now mark Alex McLeish & # 39; s tasks, & # 39; said Pressley. & # 39; If you are going to appoint him, if it is done with the necessary diligence, you must support and support your husband.

& # 39; For me, the SFA needs to be set up for someone who has the time and enormous support to start bringing in players and stabilizing the team. We must show strength as an organization and say that this is the person who will bring us forward and this is the plan. & # 39; The events in Kazakhstan, on the opening night of a new qualifying group, revealed the reality that McLeish was not the right man to help Scotland move forward. Ian Maxwell and the board that Scotland had a better chance if the 60-year-old McLeish was not at the check.

Pressley suspects Scotland

& I feel that Gordon, of whom I am a strong advocate, did many good things & # 39 ;, added Pressley, now leading Carlisle United & # 39; s bid for promotion to League One in England. & # 39; He received a lot from his team.

& # 39; Those two campaigns were considered unsuccessful. No experience. Don't build. Yes, everyone wants to come there. It could have taken six years under Gordon. It could have taken eight.

& # 39; It may not have been this tournament, but the continuity and the ability to bring a number of young players to the fore? With Gordon I felt that there was a man with the right profile for that job. Someone who was a very passionate guy about the development of young players.

I think we have made some crazy decisions. The only thing that happens in Scotland is: putting a manager in his place, getting bad results, firing him. The same process again. It has been that way for the past 20 years. There were opportunities to continue. Yet there seems to be none of that. "

<img id =" i-6443a7fc4d9467c0 "src =" https://dailym.ai/2PoqESr a-95_1555800577931.jpg "height =" 468 "width =" 634 "alt =" The SFA fired Alex McLeish as the national team boss after a bad start of Euro 2020 qualification "class =" blkBorder img-share

The SFA fired Alex McLeish the national team boss after a bad start of the Euro 2020 qualification SFA fired Alex McLeish as a national team boss after a bad start of the Euro 2020- qualification

Pressley takes an admiring look further south of his Cumbrian base on FA's work in building confidence in Gareth Southgate after

There is also jealousy for Pressley de Scotland -fan because England stumbled quite a bit about their sudden pursuit of stability.

The four-game audition for the role of head coach in England. appointment of the Under-21 coach who knew all about age, structure and possession a passion for player development came after a 67-day government of Sam Allardyce and a disastrous 2016 Roy Hodgson-led Euro Euro exit to Iceland

& # 39; England is now a success story because they seem to be behind the scenes and with the manager – have a real alignment in the way they want to help the teams move forward, & # 39; Pressley commented.

& # 39; There are projects with (director) Malky Mackay and I heard Craig Levein say a few weeks ago that we have a bit of patience.

& # 39; But that does not seem to be in line with the senior team's agreements. England now sees the fruits of their EPPP (Elite Player Performance Plan) and their investment in academies.

& # 39; Many people argued that for a long time. But they are patient with it and now it looks like they are bearing fruit. We must be like that.

& # 39; Should We & # 39; to find our Gareth Southgate & # 39; Possible. Someone with the right profile in terms of alignment with the organization, are strong points as an individual. Join him, support him and develop the team.

& # 39; That may not happen overnight. But the problem is if they (the SFA) do not respond to this, then they keep making mistakes. Okay, we might get a tournament and everyone will think it's solved. That is not the case.

Malky Mackay is in the race to temporarily become the next Scottish manager "

running to become the next Scottish manager on a temporary basis"

Malky Mackay is in the race to become the next Scottish manager on a temporary basis

& # 39; It can happen more often if we correct this. You must depend on your own young players. That is where our big clubs also have a responsibility. & # 39; With Celtic hell – inclined to get a historic 10-in-a-row and Rangers do everything to stop them, Scotland & # 39; s two best clubs will be even more busy than usual with the present in the coming year or two.

& # 39; The clubs must work together to help the national team & # 39 ;, Pressley said. & # 39; In Germany, all clubs come together to create and support. In our country everyone fights for their own interests.

& # 39; That will always be the case in Scotland. Celtic and Rangers are really going there now. Who's suffering? The national team

& # 39; When did we last produce top level No. 9? You should probably go back to Charlie Nicholas. None of our Rangers or Celtic teams produces one. We are developing some good players, but we have not developed enough special players that can change a game.

& Scott McKenna and John Souttar are players with a lot of potential. We have great left backs in Andy Robertson and Kieran Tierney. Those are encouraging signs.

& I have seen Billy Gilmour a number of times for youth teams in Scotland. Good work is being done, but there must be more. Unfortunately, it is always the manager who is the fall guy for all this. & # 39;

McLeish & # 39; s was ravaged by call-offs.

McLeish & # 39; s was ravaged by call-offs. It will be fascinating to see if those who manage & # 39; their bodies & # 39; – including Matt Ritchie, James McArthur, Robert Snodgrass, Tom Cairney and Allan McGregor – are considering returning under a new leader.

& # 39; The culture created is so important, & # 39; Pressley insisted. & # 39; That doesn't just come from the manager, it comes from everything about the organization where players feel they want to come. That is one of the things that Gordon could not level. His players showed up.

I see this in England. Behind Gareth they have this huge support mechanism. I do not see that support for the manager within the SFA. & # 39;

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#SFA must stop repeating the same old failures #says Steven Pressley"

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latestnews2018-blog · 6 years

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There Were Zero Things Better This Week Than Tessa Thompson’s Earrings In ‘Sorry To Bother You’

New Post has been published on https://latestnews2018.com/there-were-zero-things-better-this-week-than-tessa-thompsons-earrings-in-sorry-to-bother-you/

There Were Zero Things Better This Week Than Tessa Thompson’s Earrings In ‘Sorry To Bother You’

Welcome to Good Shit, HuffPost’s weekly recommendation series devoted to the least bad things on and off the internet.

When Lakeith Stanfield compliments Tessa Thompson’s earrings in “Sorry to Bother You,” the camera cuts close to the ornaments framing Thompson’s face.

In quirky block letters, one earring says “MURDER MURDER MURDER,” the other says “KILL KILL KILL.” They’re the first of many audacious pairs that Thompson, playing a fiery artist-activist, wears in Boots Riley’s fantastic new movie. Others display men in electric chairs, Bob Dylan and Prince lyrics, and the apt words “WILDLY ORIGINAL” ― all accentuated by Thompson’s electric-orange curls.

As rowdy as the earrings may be, they’re one of the more grounded oddities in this surreal odyssey about race, capitalism and loud manifestos. ― Matthew Jacobs

Romelu Lukaku, A God

Watch Lukaku’s run. Drags the defender inside to create space for Meunier and then dummies it brilliantly for Chadli. Brilliant work. pic.twitter.com/RKseQLdX7q

— Jake. (@YedIin) July 2, 2018

I want you to stop, for one moment, and watch the video of this run by Romelu Lukaku, Belgium’s star striker, in the dying moments of Belgium’s 3-2 win over Japan in the World Cup’s round of 16. (In the above GIF, he’s the guy in red who starts at the bottom left of the screen.)

Lukaku, like many black soccer players, is often stereotyped as a big, strong, physical athlete whose greatness is defined by those qualities. But while he is all of those things, he’s also smart as hell when it comes to his positioning and his ability to see how a play should unfold before it does ― and then make it unfold exactly that way. This run is proof: Watch how Lukaku drags the defender nearest him toward the middle of the field to create space for the first pass. Watch how he follows that by pulling another defender in the opposite direction to create space for the next pass. And then, watch how he dummies that pass, stepping over it so that it runs to an open Nacer Chadli ― who is only open because of Lukaku ― on the far post. It’s brilliant. It’s all beautifully, mind-numbingly brilliant.

Lukaku is Belgium’s leading scorer, but he’d spent the first 89 minutes of the match against Japan failing to find the back of the net over and over again. No one would have blamed him for trying to bury that shot ― it was the last minute, the match was tied, he’s their best player, he’s there to score goals. But he knew the right play was to take the defenders out of the play completely, to let the ball run to Chadli, to let the wide open guy nail home the win instead. Romelu Lukaku is God. Also: he’s fluent in at least seven languages. He is brilliant, and I love him. ― Travis Waldron

The Charming Netflix Rom-Com That Makes Up For That Adam Sandler Movie

Listen, Netflix, I’m never going to forget that you made “The Ridiculous 6” possible, nor should I. BUT. Today I’m feeling nothing but gratitude for the proliferation of streaming-content creators, and Netflix in particular. See, I love a good, old-fashioned, stomach-flipping romantic comedy, and in this superhero-crazed environment I rarely get one as fun and unabashedly sweet as “Set It Up.” I missed it when it came out last month, but now that I’ve seen the Claire Scanlon-directed confection, I plan to watch it daily at least.

The premise: Harper (Zoey Deutch) and Charlie (Glen Powell), the beleaguered assistants to, respectively, a hotshot sports journalist (Lucy Liu) and a venture capitalist (Taye Diggs), decide to prod their bosses into dating each other in hopes that a fresh romance will prove a distraction from work. They manufacture a relationship between their bosses ― and accidentally start to fall for each other. The movie gleefully subverts numerous rom-com tropes, like the grand running-to-the-airport gesture, while maintaining the goofy-sweet heart of a true romantic comedy.

The cast is peppered with brilliant comedic turns ― Tituss Burgess, Meredith Hagner, Pete Davidson ― and the leads are a delight. Deutch is so winsome, I literally wished I could wear her as a skin suit, and Powell looks at her in that heart-melting way that every rom-com hero must do to win my heart. It was a bit disappointing to see the actors of color pushed, as usual, into supporting roles (of course in a rom-com about the oft-ignored assistants, it’s the assistants who are white). Here’s hoping the rumors that Lucy Liu’s character may get a sequel come true. ― Claire Fallon

This NYC Teen’s Valedictorian Speech

@StuyvesantHigh valedictorian: Find a way to diversify my school. #SHSAT #StuyAlum #MatteoWong https://t.co/g1pjCIyBxm

— Stuyvesant High (@StuyvesantHigh) June 28, 2018

The best writing I read this week came courtesy of a teenager. His name is Matteo Wong, and he is the most recent valedictorian at Stuyvesant High School, an elite New York City public high school that finds itself enmeshed in a larger battle over how (or how not) to combat racial inequality in the city.

The simple question of which students should go to which schools is an intensely emotional one for many parents, especially white ones, who have been known to yell when people propose that schools should reflect the demographic makeup of the city that surrounds them. It is widely considered an incredibly complex question as well. But that’s what makes Wong’s valedictory speech ― a version of which was published in Crain’s New York Business ― so fantastic. His writing is clear and measured, uplifting while also based on the facts.

“The problem: New York City’s best public high school is less than 4 percent black or Hispanic, demographics which compose nearly 70 percent of the city’s school-age population,” he writes. “This debate revolves around two truths. One: These statistics are unacceptable. To accept them is to buy into a racist myth of black and Hispanic inferiority that has very real, physical and psychological repercussions. To accept these demographics is to make Stuyvesant a toxic environment for black and Hispanic students. The way forward is unclear, but the status quo is broken.”

The 850-word speech, which I suggest you read in full, just gets better from there. If only adults could speak with the same level of candor. ― Maxwell Strachan

An Incredibly Boring (And Great!) Reality TV Show

I’ve been told to watch “Terrace House,” an unassuming Japanese reality television show in which three young men and three young women live in a house together, for years, and this week the Netflix algorithm gods blessed me by finally suggesting I put it in my queue. I’m only a handful of 28-minute episodes into the show, and yet I’m already a convert. If you’re looking for a way to soothe your news-ridden, tweet-ridden, over-stimulated soul, binge your way through this series. (Parts 1 and 2 are already on Netflix, and Part 3 is being released at the end of this month.)

The weird thing about “Terrace House” is that very little happens and yet it’s completely captivating. As a consumer of American reality TV, specifically the “Bachelor” franchise, I’m primed for high drama ― big fights, lots of tears, ominous music cues, carefully produced confrontations and very little eating on camera. “Terrace House” flouts these conventions, opting instead to lean into the seemingly mundane. It makes you wonder why American shows keep trying to raise the emotional stakes of reality television when the Japanese have figured out a way to draw in audiences with no stakes at all. ― Emma Gray

Amy Adams In Anything (But This Week In “Sharp Objects”)

HBO is back with another limited series in “Sharp Objects,” based on the debut novel of author Gillian Flynn. Alongside showrunner Marti Noxon and director Jean-Marc Vallée, the “Gone Girl” scribe brings her dark crime thriller to the screen in a compelling fashion.

The always superb Amy Adams plays reporter Camille Preaker, who returns home to Wind Gap, Missouri, to cover the mysterious murders of two young girls. But it’s her own past that haunts her as she’s reunited with her overbearing mother (Patricia Clarkson) and rebellious teenage half-sister (Eliza Scanlen) in a hometown burdened with pain. It premieres Sunday at 9 p.m. ― Leigh Blickley

Bron Snow, AKA A Clash Of Kings, AKA June 19, 2016

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On Sunday, June 19, 2016, I watched on a split-screen as the Cleveland Cavaliers won Game 7 of the NBA finals and Jon Snow defeated Ramsay Bolton in the Battle of the Bastards on “Game of Thrones.” Yes, it was two years ago, but it was beautiful. The days of the Cavs championship drought and of Jon Snow making his pouty face — not because it was cool, but because his life kinda sucked ― were over.

Now, with LeBron James leaving the Cavs and “Game of Thrones” coming to an end, it’s good to remember that moment can never be taken away from us. Some of my own colleagues, who are now celebrating LeBron in LA, counted him out of that 2016 series from the start, much like many doubted the White Wolf.

But the North remembers. Cavs fans remember! We know no king but the kings in the North and Northeast Ohio. I don’t care if they’re bastards or they moved to LA ― Ned Stark’s blood and Cavs wine-and-gold run through their veins! They’re my kings from this day until their last day! ― Bill Bradley

Tina Lawson’s Instagram Account

Tina Lawson, the mother of our true saviors Beyoncé and Solange, has the Instagram feed from Heaven. But this photo of her and her man, Richard, waiting to see Smokey Robinson is the blackest thing I have seen this week. I am fucking LIVING for it. I grew up listening to Smokey Robinson because of my mama and nana. So I feel like this could be my parents and that warms my soul in a way I can’t fully explain.

Also, look at that selfie. It’s just terrible enough to be a fantastic auntie and uncle pic. I love it. I love them. I’m crying. ― Julia Craven

Comedian Kate Berlant

HBO/ANNAPURNA PICTURES/NETFLIX/GETTY/VIMEO

Remember that time Roseanne Barr shrieked the national anthem at a San Diego Padres game? That is not my recommendation for the week. My recommendation for the week is the human being who wrote a thesis on the deconstructionist milestone that was Barr’s scream-performance: Kate Berlant. (She did this in grad school, really!)

Berlant is in the new film “Sorry to Bother You,” which according to my colleague Matt Jacobs, you should really see. But she’s also appeared in “Search Party,” “High Maintenance,” “The Characters” and “555.” She’s a prolific scene-stealer and best friends with John Early, with whom she’s apparently writing a film. I recommend it! Them! Her! ― Katherine Brooks

A ’70s Gangster Film, Why Not?

For years, I’ve been trying to track down Elaine May’s mid-’70s masterpiece “Mikey and Nicky,” starring John Cassavetes and Peter Falk as childhood friends turned low-level gangsters turned frenemies. The film, which is now streaming on Kanopy, was well worth the years of searching. It’s better than every other Netflix crime show you’ve just binged.

The premise is simple: Cassavetes’ character knows there’s a contract out on his life and calls Falk to help him out. The rest of the film concerns what Falk does with his friend’s fate during the course of one boozy, cigarette-stained night. You can see the movie’s influence all over “Goodfellas” and shows like “The Sopranos.”

But the thing that will stay with you long after the film is over are the spare scenes with the women in their lives ― the ones who take their late-night calls, their abuses and their endless, tormented need. You see it in their eyes. They know what’s up. ― Jason Cherkis

Red Shorts, Blue Shirts: A Phenomenon

We’ve uncovered an international phenomenon: Each summer, dudes across the world bust out red shorts and, after very little consideration, decide that the only fashionable pairing is a blue shirt. Two of our reporters have been documenting this for four years — but this is bigger than our circle of friends now. Prepare to have your third eye opened. We bring you the RedShortsBlueShirt Instagram page and a whole hell of a lot of red shorts-blue shirt combos. ― Andy Campbell

Kumail Nanjiani’s Cheeseburger Freakout

I still can’t stop thinking about Kumail Nanjiani’s cheeseburger-related freakout in “The Big Sick.” We’ve all been on the wrong side of a customer service issue at the exact worst moment, and watching Nanjiani channel that is perfection. He strikes just the right notes of sympathetic and ridiculously funny. It’s hard to pick a favorite moment from the scene because I loved all of it ― from his yelling “Who the fuck is we, man?” to his knocking over the trash can and then feeling bad and slowly, sadly picking it all up again. ― Anna Krakowsky

Inner Peace

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movietvtechgeeks · 7 years

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Latest story from https://movietvtechgeeks.com/melania-trump-ready-vogue-wile-george-clooney-proves-fertile/

Melania Trump ready to Vogue while George Clooney proves fertile

Despite her husband publically bashing the media (including fashion publication Vanity Fair) on countless occasions, First Lady Melania Trump will likely still get a chance to be a fashion magazine cover star. In a recent interview with The Wall Street Journal, Vogue editor-in-chief Anna Wintour revealed that she is planning to shoot Melania during her reign as the nation’s First Lady. Anna told the Journal, “We have a tradition of always covering whoever is the first lady at Vogue, and I can’t imagine that this time would be any different.” Surprisingly, Donald’s wife has already been featured on Vogue, which is a highly sought after cover within the modeling world. Back in 2005, Melania graced the cover in an embroidered bridal gown. The accompanying article within the magazine introduced the Slovenia-native as “Donald Trump’s New Bride,” as 2005 was the year that the two tied the knot. In line with what Anna told The Wall Street Journal, Vogue has had numerous US First Ladies on their cover. In fact, Michelle Obama graced the cover of the high fashion magazine on 3 separate occasions. Based on all of the controversy surrounding both Melania and her husband Donald Trump, it will be interesting to see how consumers react to Melania’s [future] issue of Vogue. Unlike the public, who just found out earlier this week, George Clooney’s good friend Matt Damon has known about George and Amal’s pregnancy for several months now. Earlier this week, The Talk co-host Julie Chen broke the big news to the public, revealing that actor George Clooney and his accomplished journalist wife Amal are expecting twins. This inevitably came as a shock to most, as many assumed that George was not interested in having kids. In a recent interview with Entertainment Tonight Canada, George’s pal Matt Damon revealed that he has been keeping the couple’s secret for the past while. Matt told the media outlet, “I was working with [George] last fall, and he pulled me aside on set and I mean, I almost started crying. I was so happy for him. And I was like, ‘How far along is she?’ and he goes, ‘Eight weeks.’ [And I said] ‘Are you out of your mind? Don’t tell anybody else! Don’t tell anybody else! Don’t you know the 12-week rule?’ Like, of course he doesn’t.” Matt went on to recount, “Then four weeks later, I’m like, ‘We’re good right?’” Fortunately, George assured Matt that Amal and him were still preparing for parenthood. When asked about George’s beau Amal Clooney, Matt gushed all about her to ET. Matt explained, “I’m thrilled for [George]. [Amal’s] amazing. He hit the jackpot. Just on every level. She is a remarkable woman. They’re gonna be great. They’re gonna be awesome parents. Those kids are lucky.” With George and Amal’s A-list network of friends, as well as the baby frenzy that is currently going on in Hollywood, the couple’s offspring will undoubtedly have a long list of famous friends. This year's Oscar telecast will have some big Grammy Award winners: Sting, Justin Timberlake, John Legend and Lin-Manuel Miranda are all slated to perform the tunes nominated for Best Original Song. Timberlake will perform "Can't Stop The Feeling" from the movie "Trolls" and Sting will perform "The Empty Chair" from "Jim: The James Foley Story," the Oscar-nominated song he co-wrote with three-time Oscar nominee J. Ralph. Legend will perform both "Audition (The Fools Who Dream)" and "City of Stars" from "La La Land" and Miranda will team up with Auli'i Cravalho to perform the Oscar-nominated song "How Far I'll Go" from "Moana." The Oscars air Feb. 26 on ABC, hosted by Jimmy Kimmel. In a bizarre series of events, Josh Elliott stepped down from CBS’s digital channel on Friday for a larger role at CBS News — shocking his own bosses. Elliott, who had served as CBSN’s lead daytime anchor for a year, bid an emotional farewell to viewers, saying that it was to be his “last day.” “It has been by any measure a great stay here at CBSN,” he added. It was surprising news — not least to CBS News execs, who had no idea he was announcing his plan to leave the online station. “This is a mess of epic proportions,” said a network source. “Nobody at the top at CBS News knew that Josh was going to do that.” It seems Elliott — who joined the network from NBC in 2016 — had recently met with Laurie Orlando, the network’s head of talent, who told him that she wanted him to take on a bigger role at CBS News. The plan is for him to file reports for “CBS Evening News” and “CBS This Morning,” and help fill in for Charlie Rose, who has just undergone heart surgery. We’re told the surgery was a success and Rose is expected back at work in three weeks. “Then Josh announced his departure without warning,” said the insider. “Executives at CBS were stunned.” Meanwhile, sources close to Elliott claim that his executive producer dropped the ball for not alerting higher-ups, including Orlando and CBS News president David Rhodes. “They totally bungled their own announcement,” said the source. “There was no communication.” There was a flurry of meetings Friday at CBS News to work out how to handle the debacle. Finally, they announced Elliott would be reporting on a national level for CBS News. Insiders say the move is part of a plan for Elliott to take on a bigger role down the line. There are rumors CBS could move Scott Pelley off “CBS Evening News,” which network chiefs have denied. On Friday, a CBS rep told us, “Josh is going to be taking field assignments and reporting long-form pieces as well. He will appear across CBS News programs, including CBSN.” Gigi Hadid couldn’t keep her cool on her first date with boyfriend Zayn Malik. “We actually met at a friends birthday party a few years ago,” the 21-year-old model told Ellen DeGeneres in an episode that aired on Friday, “Then he was in New York to go to the Victoria’s Secret show last year, I think, and ended up not coming. I was like ‘I’ll play it cool. I’ll go to the after-party.’ He wasn’t there and then later that week we ended up going on our first date.” She added, “We played it cool for like 10 minutes, and then I was like, ‘You’re really cute.'” The couple began dating in 2015. “We connected really quickly,” she said, “We had the same sense of humor.” In June 2016, there were rumors the couple had called it quits. According to E!, the couple have experienced several rough patches throughout their relationship, but it seems they’ve worked through those issues. “Black-ish” star Yara Shahidi called a federal appeals court ruling against President Donald Trump’s travel ban an “early birthday present.” That because the half African-American, half Iranian-American actress’ grandmother can now come to visit her, the actress explained to People. “I have family that’s already in the states, and I have family in Iran. That was my early birthday present,” she told the magazine. While none of the 16-year-old’s family was directly affected by the ban, it has placed any future travel plans in limbo. “Fortunately, none of my family was traveling. It did affect the fact that my joon joon [grandmother] was possibly coming,” she said. “That’s kind of been halted until we assess what’s happening.” The Minnesota native, whose first language was Farsi, said that despite the ruling, it’s still hard to get a handle on exactly what is happening. “It goes from, ‘it’s happening,’ to ‘no, it’s postponed,’ to, ‘oh, it’s temporarily postponed,’ to ‘how temporary is the postponement? When are we going to get rid of it?’ So I feel like it’s just hard to adjust and keep up,” she admitted. On Thursday, three federal appeals judges unanimously upheld a decision that halted the president’s refugee and immigration ban. The decision prompted a shrill rebuke from Trump on Twitter. https://twitter.com/realDonaldTrump/status/829836231802515457 https://twitter.com/realDonaldTrump/status/830389130311921667 “SEE YOU IN COURT, THE SECURITY OF OUR NATION IS AT STAKE!” he wrote shortly after news of the decision broke. Clive Davis isn’t letting national politics affect his famed pre-Grammys party. The veteran music executive says his annual event will be at capacity again this year despite moves elsewhere in Hollywood to scale back awards season soirees. Celebrities have used acceptance speeches and red carpet appearances at recent awards shows to voice their concerns about President Donald Trump. The more serious mood prompted talent agency UTA this week to replace its big traditional pre-Oscars party with a political rally. But speaking Thursday at the Beverly Hilton Hotel alongside soul singer Maxwell, Davis said “there is no impact whatsoever” on Saturday’s gathering of business and tech leaders, actors, musicians and other celebrities. (Trump himself attended the event years ago when it was held in New York.) “There was a hunger for this night,” the 84-year-old music mogul said. “The audience is totally glittering and special. You can’t wait to see all of these cultural-influencing forces be in one room, one night.” Performers will include Chicago’s Chance the Rapper and Maxwell, who performed last month at the Women’s March on Washington at the invitation of Harry Belafonte, who was an honorary co-chair of the event. Davis said he expected a rising level of political engagement by fellow musicians, well past Grammy weekend. “It’s like the ’60s and the ’70s again, isn’t it. A great time for art. A great time to be able to say something that needs to be heard,” he said. “I just hope that in this time, people start using their voices.” Davis, meanwhile, says he used his voice to make sure there was a focus on music as producers crafted a documentary about his life, “Clive Davis: The Soundtrack of our Lives.” The movie was selected to kick off the Tribeca Film Festival in April. “That’s more than cool. I’m from New York. I’m from Brooklyn,” he said, “and to open at Radio City Music Hall, which is the first theater I ever visited in Manhattan when I was 13 years old — that night of April 19 will be very special.” Actor Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson and professional ballerina Misty Copeland have joined basketball star Stephen Curry in criticizing the CEO of sports apparel company Under Armour for praising President Donald Trump. Kevin Plank, the CEO of Baltimore-based Under Armour, called Trump “an asset to the country” in an interview with CNBC this week. The company later issued a statement saying it engages in “policy, not politics.” “I appreciate and welcome the feedback from people who disagree (and agree) with Kevin Plank’s words on CNBC, but these are neither my words, nor my beliefs,” Johnson wrote as part of a lengthy Facebook post. “His words were divisive and lacking in perspective. Inadvertently creating a situation where the personal political opinions of Under Armour’s partners and its employees were overshadowed by the comments of its CEO.” Under Armour sponsors Johnson, Copeland and Curry, the two-time NBA MVP and star of the Warriors. Copeland wrote in an Instagram post she was so concerned about Plank’s comments that she spoke to him directly. Curry turned Plank’s use of “asset” around. “I agree with that description,” Curry told the Mercury News, “if you remove the ‘-et’ from asset.” None of the three has severed ties with the company. Actor Shia LaBeouf slammed the Museum of the Moving Image in Queens Friday for shuttering his controversial anti-President Trump webcam exhibit. “THE MUSEUM HAS ABANDONED US,” he wrote on Twitter. https://twitter.com/thecampaignbook/status/830078936533102592 LaBeouf’s criticism drew a swift response on his site — not all of it favorable. “Well you created a circus,” responded Quite Frankly Podcast. The Astoria-based museum said it shut down the 24/7 webcam project Friday morning because the installation had become a “flashpoint of violence.” The webcam exhibit mounted on a wall outside the museum— titled “HE WILL NOT DIVIDE US” — began filming on Inauguration Day, and was to be in place 24/7, for the duration of Trump’s presidency. NBC is in talks with FremantleMedia to resurrect “American Idol,” Variety has learned. According to sources with knowledge of the discussions, NBC has been pitched a revival of the long-running singing competition by producer Fremantle and is now mulling options for how to integrate the show into its programming slate. One possibility being considered: cutting NBC’s existing singing competition “The Voice” from two cycles a year to one. Fremantle has been shopping an “Idol” revival in recent weeks, with NBC emerging as the leading candidate to become the new home of the long-running singing competition series. Sources emphasize that talks are ongoing, and no deal is yet in place. Representatives for NBC and Fremantle declined to comment. “American Idol” ran on Fox for 15 seasons beginning in 2002. For eight consecutive seasons, beginning in 2003-04, it was the highest-rated show on television. At its peak in 2006, “American Idol” averaged a 12.4 rating among the 18-49 demographic and 36.4 million total viewers, according to Nielsen live-plus-same-day numbers. Ratings began to decline steeply in the show’s later years, to the point that Fox decided that it no longer represented a worthwhile financial or scheduling commitment. (The series aired two nights a week, typically beginning in midseason.) The final season in 2016 averaged a 2.2 and 9.1 million viewers. Those numbers were far diminished from what the show drew in its heyday, but they remain respectable by contemporary standards, with delayed viewing and increased competition applying downward pressure on live ratings across television. An “American Idol” revival has been a subject of speculation since before the final season aired on Fox last year. Speaking at the Television Critics Association winter press tour in 2016, longtime host Ryan Seacrest discussed the show’s future even as he promoted what Fox had dubbed the “farewell season.” “When you’ve got a franchise that has this kind of heritage, and you’ve got a franchise that generates X amount of millions of people, if it sustains, does that mean it’s the end?” Seacrest said. “I’m not so sure.” “The Voice,” currently in its seventh year, has shown its own ratings fatigue — even as it remains NBC’s most-watched non-football offering besides freshman drama “This Is Us.” The 2016 fall cycle, which ended Dec. 12, averaged a 2.5 live-plus-same-day rating among adults 18-49, according to Nielsen overnight numbers — down 19 percent from the previous fall. From a scheduling standpoint, it could be difficult for NBC to find a place for “American Idol” without making changes to its existing unscripted slate. NBC’s schedule is already loaded with talent competitions year-round, with “The Voice” premiering new cycles in fall and mid-season, and “America’s Got Talent” — produced by original “American Idol” judge Simon Cowell — reigning as the network’s biggest draw in summer. In July, NBC gave a series order to “World of Dance,” a dance competition series from another former “American Idol” judge, Jennifer Lopez, which has not yet been scheduled. After saying she'd like to play President Donald Trump's controversial adviser Steve Bannon on "Saturday Night Live," comedienne Rosie O'Donnell has apparently changed her Twitter profile picture to make herself look like him. O'Donnell's offer to play the chief strategist came after actress Melissa McCarthy's caustic portrayal of White House Press Secretary Sean Spicer on "SNL" last weekend. O'Donnell's new Twitter picture appears to be a digitally altered picture of Bannon with her face replacing his. But the actress-comedian will not appear on the NBC show this weekend, her spokeswoman said Friday. O'Donnell and Trump have publicly feuded in the past, with Trump making derogatory comments about O'Donnell's looks and weight.

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nicoletteduclare · 5 years

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He'd been accosted as he dug through the icebox. "Wilson, you certainly don't look like you need a mandrake..."

At least it was only Ms. Wickerbottom. "It's not for me, I'm shocked Willow hasn't spread the news." He deadpanned, then followed with the actual info. "I found Max. He isn't able to speak at the moment, so I thought maybe mandrake tea would heal his throat up."

There was a hum of understanding, and he was about to continue on before she spoke up. "While I think it's a valiant cause, I can't help but wonder if it's worth it." Wilson freezes and Wickerbottom sighs. "He's going to die again with this aliment. You can't hold it off forever. You do know the full extent of damage it can do to the body, correct?"

"Well, considering it was never covered in any of my medical texts, I probably don't." Wilson sighed and closed the icebox door. He certainly didn't, thinking of Max's ashen face and that flower in the man's hands.

"Flowers typically start to sprout through and destroy organs, the heart and lungs in particular. The lucky ones choke to death before that happens." She sighed again. "It's not something you can just treat the symptoms of. And Wilson?" There's a pause, silence between them, her voice quiet, even though they're not around anyone else. "Don't let your own feelings cause you to get sick as well."

He blinks, a tinge of fear that everyone knows, and to be fair, maybe his pacing was a little obvious... "It's not like that." He manages, voice a little strained. "I'd do this if someone else was sick like this too." And well, that's... mostly true. He's trying not to pine, at the very least. And he would help, if someone like Wigfrid or Willow was this sick... well... maybe not quite so personally. Please, don't let the whole camp have this figured out, and stars forbid that Maxwell already knew.

There's a curious look on her face as she glances over him. "Well, the point still stands, don't let yourself ever get to the point our dear Maxwell has. Don't let your heart get you sick." There's a glance at the mandrake too. "Maybe try wildflower first, before you go and use a mandrake on him. But get some sleep afterwards." Wickerbottom smiled and turned to leave, and Wilson couldn't make a real smile back, but he tried, even with worry burrowing into his stomach.

He stuffed the mandrake back into the ice chest and took just the honey. There were dried petals in a chest near their water-pot, which just needed a fire underneath to be lit, and Wilson found the makeshift infuser, strips from twigs woven into a netted basket.

Once the water boiled, he took the chipped cup and filled it with hot water, honey and a filled infuser and headed to the tents. There was almost no activity, but to be fair, in this weather, everyone would probably want to go to bed if they didn't have watch. Wickerbottom is probably taking a shift as always, but she'll even go curl up in a tent to warm up and read after someone else wakes up for their watch shift.

Poor Willow. He'd forgotten that he was supposed to have a shift tonight, fueling the fire and keeping an ear out for hounds or a giant, but he'd found Max, and that felt far more important then remembering to get back in time for watch. Even if the man's presence felt a bit draining due to the dark petals, Wilson was far more settled knowing where he was, he couldn't help the petals. Maxwell surprisingly had it far worse then they did.

Max being laid low so easily by coughing up dark petals was... strange to see. While most certainly not as physically durable as the rest of them, Maxwell weathered plenty of things that mentally took it out on the rest of them.

Wilson hummed, glad for the warmth in his hands as he eyed the one tent that didn't have much snow brushed away from the entrance and opened the flap. Maxwell blinked in surprise and Wilson offered a weak smile, noticing the smear of blood on the other's mouth, before offering the cup. "It's wildflower, and if it doesn't help, I'll make you some mandrake tea in the morning."

It was taken with a tiny nod, and Wilson couldn't help lingering for a few seconds. Irrational, Maxwell's pride would never let him ask for help, or much of anything. Oh, he complained about meaningless things, but complaints weren't requests. It left Wilson feeling like he was clumsily hovering, and with one more glance, Maxwell gently blowing on the hot tea, not even looking at him, Wilson managed an awkward "Good night," and left.

He sighed once he reached the entrance to his own tent. He was rather transparent, wasn't he? Though, he should be thankful no one else has brought it up, at least to his face.

At least the tent was reasonably warm, he considered, settling down and pulling out a razor. It'd be a hit to conserving warmth, but they were out of the supplies for a new effigy and he was not about to try and get close enough to the rock bottom of his sanity to find beardlings. He'd just have to carry extra fire supplies and keep better track of his thermal stone.

It was cold the moment Wilson had a pile of hair at the side and a clean-shaven face. He rubs at a tiny cut on his face in irritation and looks at the flint razor. Needed to be sharpened again, there were nicks in the knapped edge. Still, the job was done and Wilson grabbed the quilt stuffed with beefalo and rabbit fur and bundled up.

Sleep would take a while to come, as exhausted as he was, Wilson figured. Worry always nestled deep and kept him up. Worry about what he was doing with his life, worry about not managing to make anything out of his degree, out of his passion.

Now it was worry regarding how utterly transparent he must be.

How stupid. Everything in his life was an absolute failure anyway. Wilson sighed and turned over. The eldest of his siblings, and most certainly the failure in his parents eyes. They'd hated his over-enthusiastic pursuit of science, they'd pushed him into medicine because at least that was useful. Instead of becoming a doctor or a surgeon though, he'd stayed in academia for a while. Then, before he finished that pursuit, only one degree under his belt, he'd left to do research on his own. He'd been exhausted of doing other people's research for them. And he was a failure of a scientist, really, after studying so hard, and for so long. The temptation of maybe, just maybe, learning something that would benefit not just him, but everyone, was too much.

This is where that had landed him. A sad, stupid scientist, pinning over a sad, stupid magician who'd been the one to land him in this mess. It was pinning. He'd just have to be honest with himself. A fondness he couldn't eradicate. Oh, he'd been fond of people before, men and women alike, but it faded with time or new knowledge. Maxwell was... an odd case. An outlier in some ways. He'd hated him for a while. He'd tricked him, damn it.

Granted, he doubted Maxwell had fully been in control on the Throne, but at the time, it was all on Maxwell.

Minus the impatience at the end... Maxwell had managed to make himself quite the companion the first portal they built. Encouragement, praise, swapping stories and jokes. A comforting, enjoyable voice on the radio. Then it was gone. Instead, the once warm voice was cold and he was in this hell. A broken, bitter heart, Maxwell was a devil, an asshole, and a right pain in the ass.

The second portal they built, their every interaction was strained. He could remember the manic energy between them though, excitement at an attempt at leaving. The thrill of learning. Not much, sadly as much as Maxwell was willing to teach him what was needed, he didn't have hands on time with the codex alone. A few strained jokes but mostly work and arguments and they'd been so close to what was hopefully success before Ms. Charlie intervened.

It was still a good result. Instead of the two of them arguing alone for eternity, it'd been other people, other lonely survivors. A gift in itself, even if he'd never been the kind of person who was overtly social, the time he'd spent alone here had made him crave company even more then his self imposed isolation in the woods.

Not that Maxwell wasn't company. Even at the end of that whole project, things were starting to mend, but it was better to not always handle that bundle of emotions that came with Maxwell. Though, he had, frequently. Forever prickly, sharp barbs and a ego that was out of check just enough now-days to get under anyone's skin who wasn't used to it. Maxwell was more often his companion on excursions then not.

It wasn't always bad. Sometimes it was absolutely insufferable, that had been early on, but now he'd just ramble about thoughts and plans, or what he found interesting and frankly, it was mostly because it never seemed like Maxwell was listening, considering the fact that there never was a 'would you shut up, Higgsbury' that he had been expecting. Max didn't care, and so it gave him the space to just talk things out to himself, Then, one day Maxwell chipped in with, "Hm, I'd never considered that."

He'd frozen in his spot and after a few moments of realizing that Maxwell had been listening, either for once, or he always had been, it branched into a discussion. He didn't always chime in, but Maxwell was listening, and yet didn't deride him for the overenthusiastic chatter. It was nice. More then nice, it was flattering that he actually paid attention. Wilson figured Maxwell zoned out most of the time.

Oh, why was he thinking over all of this now. Wilson sighed, cheeks red and turned over in the blanket. Why couldn't he just forget the little things and go back to hating the man instead of worrying over him and worrying about the fact that he might be considerably obvious about his feelings towards Maxwell? He pulled the blanket tighter around himself and closed his eyes, mentally chastising himself for focusing on this so much. Maxwell was always just going to be a companion, and he was going to help him out because he wanted to see him better.

And that was that.

He'd figured Wilson left immediately, but apparently not. He would have said it back, but his throat was a barrier there. He'd nodded, but it seemed like Wilson hadn't seen. No matter. Wilson was probably far more exhausted, he'd fought off shadows and still hadn't slept. The man needed the sleep.

The tea was warm against his cooling hands, and Maxwell sighed, gently spinning the cup to make the infuser swirl slightly. It smelled comforting, vaguely flowery. Herbal teas had never been his favorites back when he had a choice, but he was not going to complain about that now. There were so many flavours that were faintly in his memories that he missed, it was pointless to think about them, though black tea always came to mind when having tea. Still, he took a tiny sip, the liquid still too hot really, but there was the slight sweetness of the honey, and while not perfect it did seem to help. Breathing didn't hurt quite so much.

A few more moments, and the heat was more in his hands then in the cup. The drink was wonderfully warm though, and that was pleasant. Max noticed he was a bit hungry, now that the drink had slightly soother the painful ache in his throat but that could be handled later. Even though he was hungry, he winced at the idea of swallowing much more then the tea. Oh well. An empty cup, and he tried to murmur out something, but instead all he felt was something tear and the pain was far, far worse as he started to cough. So much for keeping blood off his bedding. Another full plant, flesh stuck to the roots , and besides intense pain, any attempt at talking was just breath.

All he could taste was copper, and he wiped his mouth off with the back of his hand, a huge smear of blood along it, and he barely could manage a huff as he looked at how vibrant the blood was to anything else. Food, or mushrooms, weren’t going to be an option right then. He needed to sleep, though Max really doubted he would manage to sleep through the pain, he was never great with sleep anyway. Last night had been rare, exhaustion sleep wasn’t fully refreshing, but he’d slept harder then he had in a while.

God. He wouldn't be surprised if he died in the night, really. As grim as it was, he almost would rather choking to death instead right now. He wondered if there were more of those in his throat, as he pitched the flower to the side. It was smaller then the last, but the roots were long. Probably were, considering his luck.

He flipped the roll over, to the side that wasn’t bloody, and settled in, ignoring the blood on his hand, he didn’t have time, and he was not in any shape to handle another bout of shadows, not to mention the mere idea of the rest of camp having to fare with that, he already wasn’t a welcome member of the group.

Still, it was nicer to hear people around, even while he was in pain, as Maxwell closed his eyes and tried to rest.

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