#off to reread name and soul again

[senseichaos]

Howdy howdy! I ADORED "You Can't Run. Hell. You Can't Even Hide" The balance between absolute fear, dizzy hypnotic confusion, and wide eyed admiration that the reader character holds for Vox is immaculate! Also them calling him Mister Vox is just Chef's kiss (it is WAY too hard to find xReader fics or even just fics in general where the honorific is Mister (C/N) and I love every one I find). The clothing change moment was probably my favorite, I'll always be a sucker for the representation of being broken and rebuilt in someone's image combined with the gift of pretty clothes. I keep going back to reread the whole story.

I know it's a oneshot, but since your requests are open, I figured I'd shoot my shot and ask if you would make a part two where Mister Vox just wrecks us, preferably sexually. We did leave off on him finding us trying to run away, do we not deserve to be punished for such an offense after all he's done for us? I also would love to see if/how much Vox has to push us to slowly become happy to be his, if that's something he wants (I could imagine having a rowdy unwilling runaway as his possession would get frustrating after awhile and be terrible for his image). There's honestly so much potential for what could happen next, and even though I could stew in my imagination, I would very much love to be at the mercy of your interpretation of the funky TV man a little longer.

That said, take your time, I know you've gotten a huge influx of Hazbin requests, hell I wouldn't be surprised if someone else already requested something similar to what I requested. I also understand if you can't/don't want to fulfill this request for any reason, that's what makes it a request. No matter what, you're an amazing writer and I hope you have a wonderful day!

💙✨

AAAAAAH!! I love you sm! When I saw this request I knew I had to do it at some point! I'm giving you the name 💙 anon from now on so if you request again I know it's you!

_______

Forever and always

(part 2 to: You can't run. Hell, you can't hide either)

Summary: After that day you attempted to escape from Vox, you had become somewhat accustomed to this new life you are forced to be living. Or you were until Vox gives you your first day off, causing you to find something out that would change how you live forever.

Genre: Smut, Angst, Horror (?)

Warnings: Non-Con, Yandere behavior, Possessive behavior, Sadism, Masochism, Electric shocks, Mind control, Drugging, Love potion, Vox is an asshole, Hurtful language, forced, gilded cage, soul contracts, unprotected sex (DONT), Vox owns reader, dacryphilia, let me know if I missed any!!

(not proof read)

--------

That day you attempted to escape from your gilded cage you wished to escape again, though vox had managed to continue his control. Even when he tugged you back by your electric leash you felt that horrid sinking feeling. This was it. For the rest of eternity as you know it Vox has you. He owns you, your soul, your body, your life; or well, lack thereof. You couldn't run from him no matter what you did, he practically controls the pride ring, keeping you tethered there like a puppy on a leash is simple to him. He has eyes everywhere. You cannot hide anywhere.

Recently Mister Vox has become a lot more... Touchy. Those fleeting touches of his fingers against your back, poking against your chin, pressing into your neck, swiping against your bottom, touching against your bosom. There is an odd burning feeling to it, you don't want to enjoy Mister Vox touching you in such ways, you don't want to enjoy it when he sucks his teeth at you or licks his tongue against his gums. But you do. You can't quench that desire. Especially when he'd moved you into his room from your apartment building. He hadn't made you share a bed with him, thank Lucifer, but he had made you sleep near enough to him that you can tell when he's.. pleasuring himself. Almost as if he wants you to hear him.

You and Mister Vox have never been better, besides from such hurdles. You stay obedient no matter how badly you wish to escape his arms. To cut all of his tight bounds on your body and run away. You'd figure out how, one day, you would.

"Good morning my dear! Did you have a gratifying sleep?" This is how most mornings go, Mister Vox will wake you with a poke if your side and a coffee in hand, already fully dressed and done up. You've always considered yourself a light sleeper, so you never know how he manages to make you a coffee every morning without so much as stirring you awake. You smile, nodding softly as you pry your eyes from his two dimensional face.

"Thank you Mister Vox, uhm.. did you have a good sleep as well?" You ask, taking a sip of the perfectly made coffee. Vox smiles, nodding as he takes a seat on the side of your bed.

"Of course, my dear. So, I know you have been working very hard recently... So I've decided to give you the day off!" Mister Vox declares, outstretching his hands as he gives you a manic smile. A day off? Why? This has to be a test. he's just going to leave you.. alone? For a whole day? This has to be fake, a joke, a flook.

"Oh my dear don't look so surprised! You've been a very good girl recently so I thought you deserved a day off," Mister Vox pauses, looking up at the roof for a second before peering back at you. "Now don't think this means we don't have rules, you are to stay in here for the day. If you want to go shopping I have to accompany you, alright? But I do have an appointment in an hour so it won't be for long,"

"Remember, I have eyes everywhere.."

You laugh awkwardly, shrinking into your own figure.

"I know Mister Vox.. I wouldn't forget," You can't stop that sorrow from entering your voice, but quickly you put on that mask of a smile once again. Mister Vox clasps his hands together, that red dripping from his maw again. "Great! Now I'll see you soon, be a good girl for me, hm?" He says, ruffling your hair atop your head with a condescending gaze.

"Yes Mister Vox," you reply simply, watching as he disappears in Into a blue line of electricity, shooting into the camera.

Fuck. Now what?

You can't remember the last time you were given this type of freedom, even if it wasn't a lot of freedom. Often you were tethered to Vox's side. Everyone in the building knows that you belong to Vox. Everyone outside of the building probably knows this, too.

There's this odd feeling in your stomach, this odd feeling as if you were floating. It happened every time you drank your morning coffee, but you'd always assumed it was just that feeling of awakening from slumber. But today, oh today it is stronger than ever before. It's as if you can feel every nerve in your body be rewired, every single hair on your body stand on end. Every sensation is doubled.

What the fuck was in this coffee? What is this euphoria? What is this yearning.. this yearning for Vox? You suddenly wish he was here, with you, holding you, calling you his good girl.. m

Shaking your head to rid yourself of such thoughts, you stand from your bed, fixing the large blue shirt you wear (that vox often asks you to wear when you sleep) as you walk to the kitchen.

The kitchen in Mister Vox's room is a large area just off to the side of his desk space, lined with many kitchen appliances and red cabinets. You are determined to figure out what he's putting in your coffee, what's making you feel so emotional. Needy. Awful. You scan the room, finding the coffee machine in the corner of the room with a couple bags next to it. Coffee, sugar, creamer... Nothing suspicious yet, it seems. Crouching down, you look open the cabinets beneath the coffee machine. Looking through the half full area.

Then you saw it, a small vial hidden behind a spare bag of creamer labeled 'Valentino and Velvette: Love potion'.

Terror shoots through you, causing you to drop the vial to the floor. It shatters everywhere, leaving the pink liquid to seep into the tiles below. He's drugging you. All this time, you feeling this want for him, burning at his touch, listening to him as he jerks himself off late at night. You wanting him to do things to you. It's all part of his plan to make you his, completely. To make you want to be his.

Burning tears fall down your cheeks, humoring you as you stand on shaky legs from the tile. What do you do? Now more than ever you want an out, a loophole, a way to take your soul back from his greedy claws. Anxiety, terror, hurt, worry, pain.

You want to prevent yourself from doing anything drastic, you really do. But all you can feel is this pain, this pain as you run on your feet to the balcony door. Trying your hardest to pry open the doors as they rattle loudly, shaking them, pulling them, pushing them. This evil man can't keep you here for any longer. You'd do anything to leave, ruin yourself for him, do something awful, make yourself less attractive to him.

Nausea. Headache. Your knees buckle as an electric blue overtakes your vision. What is this? You can't breathe, Vox. Vox. Help. Your head clouds, words fill your brain and you feel yourself being wrapped up by sharp claws. You can't scream. Help me. Please.

"You really think it's that easy?" Mister Vox.

"I can't believe I trusted you alone, even for a minute. After all I've done for you, as well. After I gave you a life some would dream for. Stupid girl." He sounds mad, horridly mad. Regretful. Throbbing takes over your body as sound waves film your ears. You can feel him lift you into his arms, placing you down onto a soft surface harshly.

"How am I supposed to make you understand this? You're mine,"

Your vision slowly comes back, until all you can see is him as he stares at you from above. His eyes are dark, domineering, needing. He's ready to take. What is he doing? All you can feel is his claw as it travels up your middle, between the valley of your breasts, stopping at the middle of your neck.

"Now, my dear? Are you going to let me teach you a lesson? For being such a brat?" You gasp, feeling his hand as it circles around your neck, effectively taking some air from your lungs. You shake your head, attempting to move your heavy legs from him with wet teary eyes.

"Nonono! Get off, please, get off!" You cry, writhing in his grasp. He sighs, rolling his eyes as he clicks his fingers. Suddenly a pulse of electricity goes through you, causing a shock to blur your eyes and pull a scream from you.

"Every time you try anything I'm shocking you, Dove. Don't try to escape from me, it's not going to work," he grins, laughing at your frightened teary eyes. "I can do whatever I want to you, my dear! I fucking own you!!" He growls, using his hand that isn't around your neck to push your thighs to your chest, revealing your bare pussy from beneath your oversized shirt.

"No please.. I'll do anything..?"

"Oh I'm sorry dear, but this is what I want more than anything right now.. maybe you should have thought of this before making such a racket and alerting everyone in the building, hm?" He says, dragging his clawed finger through your building wetness. He finally takes his hand from your neck, instead using it to keep your thighs in place as he pinches your clit between his sharp claws.

"Ah! Mister Vox.. hurts..!" You wail, wiping your tears from your eyes as he continues to abuse your sensitive bud between his fingers. He chuckles looking up at you as you gasp in pain.

"Hah! Wail all you want, dear, no one can save you." Vox guffaws, finally taking his claws from your clit. Only to plunge them into your aching hole without warning. You moan out, feeling the sharpness of them inside of you as he curls his fingers into your g-spot.

Mister Vox revels in your wails of pain and pleasure, fucking you with his clawed fingers harsh and fast. His claws are surely are scratching you from the Inside, he can tell by the way your hands tremble and clasp over your lips.

You can't help but feel good. This masochism of yours that forces it's way into you. Every scratch of his fingers inside of you just makes you want to cum. You can't give him that satisfaction, you can't let him know that you are enjoying every second of his claws thrusting inside of you. This is awful. You hate it. You hate that you love it.

"Is my little dove enjoying this? Awe.. to scared to admit you fucking love this?" Vox laughs sadistically, giving you an extremely harsh thrust of his fingers into your g-spot. You squeal, vision going white for a moment as his fingers go at this manic speed. You feel your orgasm build, wishing to break through the walls and release. But you can't let it, you won't let him have that. You'll never let him have that feeling knowing he's won.

"If you don't cum I'll fucking ruin you, dove."

You gasp and choke on saliva, clawing on the bedsheets below as he forces you to orgasm. There's no getting out. He knows that you are trying not to cum. And he won't let it happen.

"Yes.. Mister Vox.." you say softly, hole clenching around his fingers as your orgasm crashes over you in waves. Vox makes sure to drag it out, giving you slow rhythmic thrusts of his fingers to watch your body contract and writhe with pleasure.

"Good dove, listening to commands for me," He says softly, stroking the side of your cheek as he kneels between your legs. You want to pull away, but once again that burning and yearning feeling fills you. That stupid potion had an effect, and you can tell. From the way you feel a dizzy want when he looks at you to the wetness that continues to build between your thighs.

"Now, I'm going to fuck you so hard.." He laughs so himself, smiling crazily as he presses his hand to his face. "I'm gonna fuck you SO FUCKING hard, you won't even remember who I am anymore! How does that sound, my little slut?" Your lower lip wobbles as more tears threaten to fall from your eyes.

"Awful.." you whisper.

Another strong electric shock goes through you, causing you to scream out Mister Vox's name in pain as your body is left shaking and aching.

From the corner of your eye, you see Vox unzipping his fly.

"Wrong answer! Haha! Wrong fucking answer stupid slut," He growls, pressing the tip of his cock to your hole without a care. There something wrong with him, he's acting more crazy than ever before. He's getting off on your fear, getting off on your pain, getting off on knowing you can't do anything but be his.

With a loud slap, Vox sinks his entire length into you. You scream, clutching onto the bedsheets for dear life as he looms over you. He doesn't even give you a moment to let you rest, immediately setting a ruthless pace with his hips into yours. Every thrust causes your vision to go spotty with the pure force he drives his hips with, groaning with every thrust as he stares completely into your face as it scrunches in a pleasurable pain.

"S'too much! M-Mister vox It hurts!" You cry, reaching out to press your hands against his shoulders, clawing into his coat. You don't even care anymore, you want at least a small bit of comfort from these strong unforgiving thrusts. Vox chuckles at this, leaning down closer so he can capture your lips in a (forced) yet passionate kiss.

His long electric blue tongue immediately finds its way into your gob, passionately fornicating it against your own as his thrusts send you into a sort of floaty state. Vox maps the entirety of your mouth, tasting every crevice of you from your lips to the back of your throat. He thrusts almost ravenously like a dog, tip of his cock sometimes painfully pressing against your cervix.

Pulling away, Mister Vox looks Into your eyes, revelling in the way you claw at his back. You whimper and moan loudly, eyes fluttering closed as a tear falls down your cheek. He kisses it away, looking up at your closed eyes with a grin.

"Open your eyes, dove. Look at me while I fuck you." You cry out, opening your eyes for him so you can see him look at you with pleasure.

"Y-yes Mister- Ah! Vox.."

He chuckles, thrusting into you extremely hard. You can see the bulge of his cock in your stomach, poking against your skin in such a way you almost want to touch it.

"I'd fucking breed you if I could, fill your filthy cunt with all my little babies so then you can't even dream of leaving.. but I can imagine," Vox rambles, taking your cheek into his hand so he can look at you longingly- and almost affectionately. If it weren't for the position you're in you'd almost be enjoying this moment.

"Mister Vox!" You cry, back arching as your orgasm begins to prod at your stomach.

"Hm?" He asks, grunting as he thrusts into you.

"Can I cum? Please! Please please please.." You beg, legs quivering wildly. Vox chuckles, giving you an adoring look as you bite your lower lip.

"Awe look at you! Asking Mister Vox to cum and everything.." Vox begins, biting his lip as you sputter on a moan. "Of course you can, dove. Let go so I can fuck my cum into you.."

You scream his name when you cum, digging your nails so hard into his back you're sure his coat has tears in it.

You'd given up. Well and truly. You wouldn't admit it. But you've finally accepted it. You belong to Mister Vox. Forever and always.

Forever and Always.

Vox gives you one last thrust, emptying his cum into you with a moan from his own lips. Eyebrows furrowed in pleasure, Vox drags out his orgasm by serving you a few more small quick thrusts, making sure every last drop is inside of you.

But when he has, he doesn't pull out.

"Mister Vox.. pull out.." you whimper, wiggling your hips against him.

"Haha! As if. I said i'd fuck my cum into you, didn't I? I haven't done that yet.. okay?" He asks, stroking a hand through your hair.

"Yes Mister Vox."

#proship #senseichaos #antishippers dni #senseichaosdrabbles #proship fanfiction #hazbin hotel #lovely anon #senseichaosanons #💙 anon #vox #yandere vox #vox hazbin hotel #hazbin vox #vox x reader #vox x reader smut #vox x reader angst #angst

[llovelyclouds]

notes on alecto

hii!! so a few months ago i did a full reread of the locked tomb and took note of anything i thought seemed particularly relevant. I want to share what I have but I'm not sure exactly how i want to format everything quite yet- but im just gonna go for it so bear with me if its a little disorganized!

throughout the process i've started coming up with some of my own theories, but i thought it would be cool to post everything i've compiled, so people could use that to make their own conclusions as well :D

I have sections for anything that seemed important about all the original lyctors & their cavaliers, so I'm going to start off with all my information gathered about alecto! buckle in, folks, there's a lot :-)

you can find links to the other posts in the project here!

(also ofc spoilers for the up to the end of nona ahead!)

ALECTO

titles:

Also referred to as “A.L.”, “Annabel Lee,”or “Annie Laurie”  John’s cavalier, the soul of the Earth. (And of course, nona <;3)

Annabel Lee poem  (mentioned htn. pg. 196)

Annie Laurie poem (mentioned htn. pg. 345)

notes from harrow the ninth:

Harrow's psychosis seems to begin after seeing Alecto for the first time (htn. pg. 51)

Augustine describes her as "more lucid" than Mercy as an insult to Mercy (htn. pg 168)

"'God, who did you bury?' [...] 'I buried a monster,' he said." (htn. pg. 195)

(depending on how much of The Body is real) Agrees that Harrow should kill G1dieon (htn. pg. 226)

“Augustine said, ‘To sisters, and to the women we‘ve left behind.’ God’s mouth was cheerful as ever, but his eyes were not when he said, 'Do I have to drink to that?’ For the first time, you were witness to the Saint of Patience discombobulated. ‘Apologies, John. Wasn’t meant as a jab.’ ‘It doesn’t hurt anymore- most of the time,’ said God, and he was still smiling.” (htn. Pg. 277)

"Even the devil bent for God to put a leash around her neck… and the disciples were scared! I cannot blame them! I was terrified! But when the work was done- when I was finished, and so were they, and the new Lyctors found out the price- they bade him kill the saltwater creature before she could do them harm… Oh, but it is a tragedy, to be put in a box and laid to wait for the rest of time." - Teacher (htn. pg. 328)

Says she has to go away for a while immediately after Varun appears (htn. pg. 334)

John says that G1deon doesn’t talk about her, but Augustine and Mercy still feel guilty about what happened (htn. pg. 345)

“When I first met her I just called her First, One. She had a real name, but I buried it with her, and nobody says it anymore.” - John (htn. Pg. 345)

“Annabel Lee was my- what do I call her? Guide? Friend? I’d hope so… [...] She was the first Resurrection. She was my Adam. As the dust settled and I beheld what was left and what was gone, I was entirely alone. The world had been ended, Harrowhark. One moment I was a man, and the next moment I was the Necrolord Prime, the first necromancer, and more importantly, a landlord with no tenants. [...] I was dazed… I was bewildered… and she was my defender and my sole companion, and my colleague in the scholarship of learning how to live again. It was bloody difficult. I had never been God. [...] She lived to see what happened at Canaan House. Not that she took much interest. My first Resurrection was not a normal human being, Harrow, and she struggled to pretend. Anger was her besetting sin. We had that in common. And when the cost of Lyctorhood was paid, when the emotions were at their peak… we found out the price for our sin. The monstrous retribution. To be chased for our crime to the ends of the universe, to have our deed stain our very faces and follow after us like a foul smell. She died after that first terrible assault.” - John (htn. pg. 346)

"That freak would have gone for me already… she could never act human." -Mercymorn (htn. pg. 408)

the lyctors knew some amount of truth about Alecto's resurrection, likely that shes essentially a resurrection beast (htn. pg. 478)

"'A monster, John!' Augustine barked. "She was a bloody monster in a human suit! She was a monster the moment you resurrected her, and then you went and made her worse!'" - Augustine (htn. pg. 478)

Gideon & Pyrrha liked Alecto despite the fact that the other lyctors (at least Mercy and Augustine) didn't (htn. pg. 479)

One of the reasons the lyctors wanted her dead was because the RBs were partially coming for her (htn. pg. 479)

Appears to claim Harrow's body after Gideon "dies" in the river (htn. pg. 500)

notes from nona the ninth

"Sometimes, [...] I don't like when you do- the necromancy word- [...] -but it feels nice at the same time. It's mixed up. It's like when you do that, it makes me sad- not sad that you did it, but sad that you can do it." - Nona, to Palamades (ntn. pg. 65) 

"Nona loved the blue sphere as much as she loved everything else. She, and nobody else, could hear it sing." (ntn. pg. 125)

"'And I'm not scared of dying. Really truly, Cam, I'm not…' 'Why not?' said Camilla. Nona thought about it. 'Because I like letting go of the pull-up bars and falling off,' she said. 'I don't like the part just before you let go and I don't like the part where you hit the floor, but I like the letting go.'"- Nona and Cam (ntn. pg. 125)

"Dust of my dust- such similar star salt- what they did to you and what they wrung from you and what shape they made you fill- we see you still- we seek you still- we murdered- we who murder- you inadvertent tool- you misused green thing- come back to us- take vengeance for us- we saw you- we see you- I see you." - Judith, (as Varun) to Nona (ntn. pg. 164)

Nona likes Gideon's (originally Pyrrhas?? maybe?) sunglasses, but only so long as nobody wore them (ntn. pg. 165)

"then she told herself sternly, Stop it! If she was going to do it, she thought, she might as well do it. She had some vague notion that when you committed to a thing you had to do it all the way. Who had said that to her? Who had taught her that? Once you've stepped in, said the voice in the back of her head, you're in. This isn't the Hokey Pokey. She had remembered something- she had finally remembered something! Only she didn't have anyone to tell." (ntn. pg. 203)

"Nona had thrown exactly two tantrums in her entire life. She couldn't remember anything about the first one, but Pyrrha had told her about it. Pyrrha had been laughing with her mouth, but not with her eyes: her eyes had been very brown and distant and uneasy, as though this tantrum had reminded Pyrrha of something her brain didn't want to bring back." (ntn. pg. 275)

"'But you see, Palamades, I don't mind dying,' said Nona, trying to make him understand. 'I've been doing it for ages. I'm not scared.'" (ntn. pg. 289)

"'I am glad you did not tell us this. We had no idea there was any recourse from Varun the Eater's effects, nor any beast.' 'Its pure theory,' Camilla said curtly. "Something's being transmitted through the light spectrum. Absorption through the eyes is worse for the brain.' This made Nona think of something. It tugged at the edges of her memory and stayed there, nagging.'" - We Suffer & Cam (ntn. pg. 322) 

Nona says that she never liked her hands (ntn. pg. 357)

"She wanted to shout. She wanted to be listened to. She wished the barrier had taken her hands. She wished she had thrust herself into it- become that big seething mass of flesh and meat and tendrils- ruined her body, just melted it; come back messed up, so that nobody could want her body but her, so that it would be hers and nobody else's. This was a horrible thing to think. Nona hated herself immediately and fervently." (ntn. pg. 358)

She hates having just two feet (ntn. pg. 390)

“You were the noise that was everywhere. It was like trying to talk to someone down a phone line with someone screaming through a megaphone in the same room. You drowned everything out. You were so huge and so complicated, and you were screaming, You wouldn’t stop screaming, You were so scared. You were so goddamn mad.” (ntn. pg. 405)

“You were screaming. I wanted you to stop, I wanted… I wanted you. I wanted you like a caveman wants a wildfire… or the sun. I thought you were going to take me, somehow. Purge me. Use me as an instrument. But you didn’t say anything…I was babbling, Show me. Come on. I’m ready. You kept screaming and screaming… like a baby in pain. So I tried to hurt you- I did hurt you. I reached out for you, and it hurt you… but I wasn’t strong enough. The caveman. The wildfire. The Neolithic priest staggering in front of the falling star.” (ntn. pg. 407)

“I wanted to make you the most beautiful body I could think of. He paused and said: “But I was stressed, okay? I was insane. Most of what had made me John had gone somewhere else. There were a few little thoughts left…a handful of things that made me me… a couple scraps of id. It’s not fair to judge me, right? I didn’t do this thinking… I didn’t do it like art. When I was seven, you know, all Nana had to play with in her house was some of Mum’s old toys. And my favourite out of all of them…” He gave a long, shuddering sigh. “My favourite was her old Hollywood Hair Barbie,” he murmured. “I loved her little gold outfit and her long yellow hair. She was the best. She got to have all the adventures. [...]” He said, from my blood and bone and vomit I conjured up a beautiful labyrinth to house you in. I was terrified you’d find some way to escape before I was done. I made you look like a Christmas tree fairy… I made you look like a Renaissance angel… I made you Adam and Eve… Galatea. Barbie. Frankenstien’s monster with long yellow hair. He said, As the world went up I remade us both. I hid me in you… I hid you in me. And when we were together… once the shaman had claimed the sun… I became God.”- John (ntn. pg. 408)

“Do you remember what you said to me once I had done it? When we stood here together?” She looked at him and she said, “Yes.” He said- “You said, ‘I picked you to change, and this is how you repay me?’” She said- “What else did I say?” He said: “You said, ‘What have you done to me? I am a hideousness.’” She said- “What else did I say?” He said, “Where did you put the people? Where did they go?” She said, “I still love you.” He said, "You said that too.” - John & Alecto/Harrow (ntn. Pg. 410)                                                

Nona has some kind of blackout on top of the truck and something happens in that time that convinces Pyrrha of her true identity (ntn. pg. 413)

Also based on Nona’s reaction at that point, maybe Alecto didn’t like Pyrrha even though Pyrrha liked Alecto (ntn. pg. 413)

“She’s scared to die. You’re afraid of so many things, but she’s only afraid to die. Then when the disciples come to you and say the word Lyctor, she does not understand that they want the thing you did to her- she watches as you watch… watch them misunderstand the process.” - Harrow, to John, (ntn. pg. 434)

“In [Aiglemene’s] hands was a huge black-metal pike about the same height as her, with an edge that gleamed in the light. Nona couldn’t stop herself looking at that edge: for some reason it made her palms sweat, and the back of her neck itch again.” (ntn. pg. 454)

“I might not help you when.. I'm back," she said, not quite understanding I. “I'll be different. I'll remember everything. I'll remember the thing I'm trying to forget. And Palamedes-  I won't love him. I won't love Camilla, or Pyrrha, or Hot Sauce, or even Noodle. I won't love anything… I won't know how. I won't be me at all, or.. I'll be the me who knows the thing, and knowing the thing means I'm not Nona- I'm someone else." (ntn. pg. 460)

she recognizes the tower, and the devils (ntn. pg. 440, and 447, respectively)

“You let that monster out of its box," said Ianthe, "and you start us down a path nobody can save us from. If God truly wants her out… if Teacher set this all up… if he wants her…"  “Wants her? He told me to kill her. He said Make it quick, but kill her, said me with my blood could do it- said me with my blood, I was the only one… " [...] “He loves her! " Ianthe howled. “John loves Alecto - John needs Alecto! Without that piece of Goddamn fridge meat, he's nothing- and we need to keep him that way!” - Ianthe & Kiriona, accidentally prompting nona to remember everything (ntn. pg. 470)

“She had been taken down this corridor: she had squeezed through this crack in the rock- not a passageway, not at that point. John had told her he had something to show her. He had said, It's very pretty. You'll like it. [...] John loved her. She was John's cavalier. She loved John. For she so loved the world that she had given them John. For the world so loved John that she had been given. For John had so loved her that he had made her she. for John had loved the world. [...] She hadn't come on purpose; the scrap of black-eyed meat had asked for it- the chain of a kiss: the ice that burnt the flesh of the mouth that had stuck to the mouth that was frozen.The teardrop on the hand. The hand that John had fashioned. [...] John had said, It's so beautiful. Come and look. She had said, There are almost no beautiful things left. where is Anastasia? Let me talk to Anastasia. [...] Glowworms, she had told John. Technically beetles, said John, but I always loved them. Narrow beetles with long strands hanging off them- a carpet of shifting, dead, winking lights at the top of the grave. Greenish, orangish, yellowish, moving over one another silently with those long filaments hanging down. [...] And the water- the huge pool of real salt water, where she had knelt and drank- [...] John and she had swum to the centre hummock rising out of the pool. Not an island, not really. An outcropping. With the marble pillars, and the marble top, and the long low marble table. He said he thought it was a nice place to be. To lie down. She had liked hard things to lie down on. It was hard to endure having a spine.” (ntn. starting page 471)

“There she was; John had made her so ugly, so unbearably ugly. The terrible face, with the terrible arms and legs and the terrible middle part, and the terrible hair, and the terrible ears: the nose too short, the ears too brief. But there she was- and within her the child, asleep, with the strange sword. The sword- her sword- her own edge had been pushed out, her swinging edge, her toy. Her plain bladed sword. And her body was chained up…” (ntn. pg. 474)

“Then Alecto remembered the vow, and turned back upon the altar to face the second child and raised the sword with wrath in her heart, for they meant to bring destruction upon her. But when the black-eyed infant showed her countenance to Alecto, Alecto recalled her, for it was a face one dreamed in Alecto's dream. and Alecto stayed the sword.” (ntn. pg. 476)

“And Alecto said, Pyrrha, he laid me down as an appeasement to them; he fed you to them as an appeasement to them; but he has never appeased me, and now all he has done was teach me how to die." (ntn. Pg. 476) 

"Alecto said, I am very sorry about Samael. The child made no answer. Alecto said, I remember my vows. As I swore to Anastasia I swear to you. I am in your service until you bid me the favour, and whatsoever you appoint I shall perform, and consider the vow rendered. This is what I promised, until such a time as you deal with me as you see fit.” (ntn. pg. 477)

#junos silly little locked tomb thoughts #tlt #the locked tomb #tlt meta #gideon the ninth #harrow the ninth #nona tha ninth #gtn #htn #ntn #ntn spoilers #alecto #alecto the ninth #alecto tlt #nona tlt #alecto the first

[milky-aeons]

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐙𝐄𝐑

a/n: i wrote this story years ago! and while i was rereading it out of pure boredom, i decided i wanted to breathe some life back into it again. this shall be multi-chaptered! take your time with it, and please read the warnings before you embark, loves!

warnings: class differences, oppression of women, mentions of illness, mentions of death, depression, violence against women, mentions of abuse, mentions of rape, superstitious natures, spoilers, mdni, w.c 7.4k

౨ৎ . . . chapter ONE of CROWNS OF STARDUST

𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚎𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚊 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜, 𝚘𝚛 𝚊 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚜.

— Grace Willows, To Kiss a King.

𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆. Dotted studs of white fire, splattered over a glassy night sky that sometimes bloomed with purples and indigos of rare supernovas, if you were lucky enough to see them.

You could lie here for hours, like this, gazing at the wonders above. Counting as they winked at you from far away, feeling the evening breeze nip at your cheeks and whisper through the field. And above everything; allow yourself to imagine. To think, secretly, what it would be like if everyone thought like the stars did.

They didn't discriminate, stratify, hate or detest. They simply shined brightly, each of them made of that very same material everyone in the world was also made up of; incandescent, special speckles of stardust.

If only they could see that. If there could be some way to force through the social ladders of your society, to break away from the labels placed upon you. Perhaps the world would be a better place if we thought how the stars did — believed that everyone, no matter how rich or poor, was the very same on that fundamental level.

Intertwined within our souls was the stuff of stars that made us no better or worse than the person next.

Perhaps the world would be just as beautiful as a sky on a peaceful, undisturbed night when every person was allowed to shine just as brightly as the stars above. But this stargazer locked that thought up deep within her heart, just like all others that expected too much from her rank, her social label, and staggered to her feet with a heavy sigh.

The Village of Yo, January, 1831

A chipped, wooden horse came down hard against the worn chess board with a force that rattled all the other pieces. Hand-carven, they were fragile and you should have been a little less vigorous. But caught in the grips of victory, you had little room for such caution.

"Checkmate," You smiled giddily, knocking the King piece off the board. "I win."

Your opponent; a willowy old man with lines streaked across his forehead and an impressive beard grumbled with narrowed eyes. Reaching up, he rubbed a hand down his face. "My, lass. I knew one day you'd catch up to me, but I didn't think it'd be this quick."

Still smiling, you reached down to pick up the King from the floor where it'd landed. You brushed off the delicate carvings on the piece with care, hoping you hadn't damaged it any more. A terrible habit of yours it was; becoming too excited about games and strategy. It was bad enough that one of the castles was missing its parapet because you had become angry at a sneaky strategy your teacher had used. And hurtled the poor piece across the room.

But now, you placed it carefully back, it looks as if said teacher has been bested by the student.

"You should take pride," You assured through a grin. "It means you're a great teacher."

"Teachers don't teach to be bested by their students, lass. Maybe it's my eyes. I didn't even see your counterattack in place, at all."

"Ah, I see. Go on, then. Blame your eyesight." Your lip jutted in a playful frown. "God forbid that a woman beats you at anything. What will the village think? You'd be locked up and subject to a shower of rotten fruit."

"[Name]!" The wood whined as he rapped on it three times. Superstitious to an art form, your Grandfather has always been. Which of course, was why you spoke so loosely to him in the first place. Receiving a rise out of him was one of the ways you loved to keep entertained in this small, handwoven cabin typical to that of common folk.

His cheeks tipped rose when he exclaimed, "You mustn't feed the air with talk of such events!"

You, the victorious Chess Champion, stared your Grandfather in the eye. The pair of you didn't reach the third second before a low chuckle escaped the older man. It was hoarse in a way that spoke of his age, an obvious hallmark of his weakening health you didn't think about so much.

He shook his head. "Aye, my Granddaughter has bested me. Are these lungs of mine finally getting to my head?"

Three consecutive knocks rang through the air. This time, it was you who had copied your Grandfather's superstitious habit and tapped the table. "Now who is feeding the air with bad thinking?" You asked him softly.

"Not bad thinking, lass. Pure truth."

"Grandfather." You frowned even more. Talk of your Grandfather's weakening health sent a thousand small stabs through your heart, opened doors to thoughts of an empty cabin without him there. You couldn't bear to entertain anything but the thought that the new medicine you've received would work. No, it had to.

It must.

The man gave another rattling cough, followed by a scowl. "Rather than wasting money on all that fancy apothecary, why not more food? You're an awful liar, [Name]." His eyes similar to your own — that clear tone which rivalled the smoothest of glass — riveted into you. "You believe you hide your stomach growls, but you doubt the hearing of an old man with poor sight."

On instinct, you placed a hand to your stomach, pressing hard. Through the simple dress tied off at the waist, you could feel the tight skin, the lumps of your protruding ribcage. The hunger spasms had drawn your muscles taut, but the pain was tolerable. Grandfather needed the food more than you, after all. He needed to get better.

"It is nothing," You mumbled. "There has been drought throughout the summer. You know that. Food is sparse. I'm young, I'll live."

The older man studied you with a shaky hand stroking over his beard. It was a long moment before he let out a chuckle. "You've got your Mother's selflessness and your Father's poor deceit. Really, what'll I do with you?"

Images of the young couple that birthed you were gone as quickly as they came. It didn't hurt as much to think about them anymore, as you knew they too, existed in the stars that looked down upon you all. [Name] of the Willows family was strong and always kept her backbone in check, but would be lying if you said you were ready to be completely alone. Not after the sudden passing of your parents.

Even if you had to work in a farm trudging through mud picking up weeds and other unpleasantries, you would keep your Grandfather here on this earth. Your only living relative — one you couldn't bear to let go.

It did not help in the slightest that this drought was financially crippling not only the farming community in the village, but the whole Kingdom of Yo as a nation. They were mainly an agrarian province that got most of its income off of produce. Drought of any kind, especially one lasting this long, was bound to cause chaos in every aspect of the Kingdom. And it had — chaos that was quickly balanced by raising taxes in order to stabilize the economy.

An idea offered by the Royal Family of the Yo Palace.

You ground your teeth every time you thought about the monarchs all were meant to bow down to, to marvel and respect. When they were treated like nothing but cattle to be milked of everything they had? The Miyazawa farm you worked on hardly has any money for themselves in this current climate, not concerning your wages, which had been shaved down as of recently. You had no reason to blame them. No, the people you directed such distaste to were the money-laundering aristocrats that stood on top of it all.

If anyone was responsible for your forced fasting in order to afford basic medicines for your Grandfather's health, it was them.

You were unsure about many things in life; marriage, family, food, but if you could count on one thing; it was that you hated the Royal Family. With everything you could possibly gather within you.

"It's a terrible thing you can't get rid of me," You continued with Grandfather's remark, trying to distract yourself from the depravity of it all. You carefully set up another chess game with the delicate, whittled pieces. Your favourite game. "Who would wake you up in the morning, then?"

"The taxman at the door, that's who." He scoffed.

Whatever water you had in your stomach went sour. "The Royals ought to be ashamed of themselves, taxing us like we have it all to give. Do they not know the people they rule over? How we're struggling?"

A sigh filtered through the air. "Don't be quick to blame the Royals for everything, [Name]. Running a Kingdom is not often black and white. If I had to guess, I believe they don't have a choice."

Suddenly very taken aback by your Grandfather's point of view when his very body was wasting away because of the people he was defending, you shot up. Eyes blazing a bright inferno, neck tight. "How could you defend them?"

"I'm not defending them, lass. But it is wise to think before you project." He rounded his own clear eyes on you. "How would you save a Kingdom if it was falling apart?"

You were about to give into that same habit of reacting when worked up and lash out. They tax us silly, uncaring of how many lives they leave in ruins! But before you barely got a word out, there was a loud commotion outside.

An explosion of high, excited chatter that caught both your attention. Cautiously, you left the chessboard and Grandfather's company to venture to the front door and peer outside. What could it possibly be at this early hour? You wondered with a huff, blinking the sunlight from your narrowed eyes. It was midday; the time of lunch, if one was lucky enough, and perhaps quiet work.

Not an entire gaggle of women hurriedly knocking on doors and running around with their skirts gathered up in their fists.

Wary, you almost scowled at the lady who scurried towards you. The lady was too excited to notice, it would seem.

"Oh, darling!" She gushed, taking you by the hands. "Oh, it's amazing! A miracle!"

"What is?"

The lady shook her clasped hands. "You truly don't know? You have not heard?"

I would have not asked if I did, you wished to remark. Women such as these who were nothing but charm and gossip unnerved you the most. But instead, you remembered basic propriety. "Pray tell? For I have not."

"The Royals, my darling! They've smiled down on us and heard our cries! Recruitment, they have just promised, for all young women under forty and unwedded. With a promised wage! They wish to help those in need in these taxing times! Oh, we've been saved. Saved, my darling!" 

Your twitching brows knitted. You were having serious trouble understanding what you had just been told. "Pardon, Miss?"

"The day is wonderful, my Darling!" The lady took her hands away from you and twirled happily on the spot. Her cheeks were stained a delicate rose when she stopped. "I'd place my name down quickly with the Registrar, [Name] Willows! Unwedded and in these troubled times, a servant's job will be a blessing to you!"

Servant's job?

The woman was already scurrying off to the nearest house ready to spill the news when it caught up to you. Your mouth parted to draw a shaky, disbelieved breath. No, this can't be. You turned to look at the other houses along this path. Each and every one of them looked busy, some already ushering their daughters out the door so they could place their names down and help the family income. 

Hold on a moment, the Castle is suddenly accepting women to become servants for the Court?

In this financial climate? 

Such a handful of women who were desperate for income, like you, were currently taking to the streets with hastily wrapped scarves around their heads. It was a sea of excited commoners, close in age and status to you. Some of which, you were close friends to.

The sight of it all made you suddenly take the severity of what was happening seriously and gather your skirts to turn back into the house.

"Grandfather," It was a hurried whisper on your tongue. "Grandfather, where are you?"

The older man was already standing at the small kitchen you shared, his back turned. Unbothered, he never really was one for dramatics when they arose in the society. "Why do you sound like you've seen a ghost, lass?" He asked while pouring a shaky cup of water. "Don't bring any of that societal malarkey into this home."

"No, Grandfather, this is not—this is," You were having trouble getting coherent words out. Because surely, this couldn't be true. "The Castle—they're—?"

"Use words correctly," A small tap on your forehead that made you blink. You hadn't been flicked as such since your teenage years. But it seemed to do the trick — because your were shaken right out of your startled haze. One tight swallow and you were right back in the room.

"The women," You began quickly. "They've come saying that the Castle is looking for new workers. Servant women, able and unwedded. They promise of a wage, Grandfather." Your expression suddenly grew tight. "Do they mean to mock us? First they take away our taxes, now they take any women who are able for a family?"

Silence followed your obvious open question. It made you frown when he stared into the murky water with quiet contemplation.

"Grandfather?" You pressed, now confused. 

It was a few more moments of a now heavy silence before he tipped the water down his throat, followed by a rattled cough. "So, what are you waiting for?" He suddenly piqued, irritated. The cup came down heavily onto the kitchen table. "Where is your scarf, your bags, your birth papers? You'll be a fool to think that they will accept just any woman who doesn't get there first!"

Warmth spread quickly from your chest up to the top of your neck. Like a slap to the cheek, the words from your Grandfather were hard and unexpected in their impact. Your hands clasped into shaking fists at your sides.

"What are you saying? Do you honestly believe I would work as a servant woman in their Castle—?"

"Better a servant girl than pulling weeds up in that Miyataza farm you work on."

"Miyazawa farm, Grandfather. It is the Miyazawa family."

"Does it matter, lass? I could bet a Castle job would pay you far more generously than weeding. Servants are treated well. They are fed and warm when they sleep."

The heat was creeping into your cheeks now. How dare he try to send you away? How dare he even think you would consider being sent away?

"I'm not leaving you." Was the hard-line, final statement. You stood straight and taut, daring your Grandfather to wish you away.

Truthfully — due to the mechanisms of this time and the harsh needs of society; you really couldn't stand in the way if Grandfather truly wished to send you to the Castle. Because you were a woman, and he led the house as a man. Misogyny was the only thing a tomboy, unwedded woman like you could not break down with nothing but her soul and stubbornness. 

But you could damn well try. Every day, you could try.

"Grandfather," You put every emotion into the soft plea. Begging him to understand that this would rip a hole in your heart. That you would better uproot weeds from a farm with your skirts bunched than polish a lavish Palace hall. Would rather feel the pang in your stomach from days of foodless meals than not see him every morning and night. "Please, don't send me away."

The answer which greeted you was icy and so unlike the man who cared for you. "That's enough, lass. You're going. It's an opportunity not to be missed."

"I don't want to leave you!"

At that, Grandfather glared at you. But it was softer around the edges — the glass of his eyes now a gentle powdery colour. For a spared moment, you were hopeful that guilt had finally swayed him. Even more so when he reached up to pet your hair; an affectionate gesture of his own. You dropped your eyes and leaned into the pat, knowing that the hope would crackle and burn around you. Like everything else in your miserable life you continued to struggle against.

"Servants of the Castle are permitted to return once a month. You won't miss this ol' shack that much, lass. Tending to me and my rotten coughing. Your parents would have wanted it for you," He spoke softly. The gravel of his lung condition made the words a raspy wheeze. "A servant woman of the Palace. You couldn't ask for anything better when we're all drownin' in poverty."

A choked sob was steadily rising in your throat, but you pushed it down and averted your eyes. In a shaky whisper, you attempted one last time, "The Royals are the last people I would ever serve, Grandfather. Even if they promise of a wage."

You could hear it in his chuckle — the knowing grin he always wore. Oftentimes, it reminded you vaguely of your Father.

"Remember, [Name]. If your Kingdom was in ruins, how would you save it?"

The village of the Yo Kingdom was still buzzing with excitement hours after the news was relayed to every single door. Mothers and Grandmothers alike who did not meet the criteria for work waved their younger daughters off, some with cloths up to their mouths to hide the tears. Of elation or despair, you didn't know.

It was with a heavy heart that you packed your things in the small area you and Grandfather shared for sleep; him on the bed while you took to the floor most nights. Not that it ever bothered you. Something about the musty scent of oakwood and the tuft of hay you treated as a pillow stayed with you as you wrapped the scarf around your head. Home, you thought with lines bracketing your frown, this was your home and you were only permitted to return once a month.

Could you truly serve the family you hated so much?

You didn't let the hope in your heart dwindle. Having spent a generous deal of time arguing with Grandfather while getting ready — perhaps the Registrar was no longer there. Maybe a good number of women had beat you to it first and you were too late. With a deep breath did you continue your walk across the small village street — following some stray women as they hurried along the same route. Constantly, you turned around to look at your Grandfather once more. But you had ventured far into the city now — your home was around the bend and well out of eye's view.

If the Gods smile down on you, then perhaps you wouldn't have to leave for too long. The Registrar will be full, and you could return right back to where you wanted to be.

Perking a little, you entertained how you would laugh right in his face when you returned home. Ha! Would you look at that, you senile old man. It just wasn't meant to be! A servant woman is not where the Heavens want me to go! A small giggle rushed through you, lifting your spirits ever so. It seemed more probable now the more you walked; there was a high chance the Palace would not accept any more applicants after the previous sea of women bombarded them.

Yes, you told yourself, that's right. And then I can think of what to make Grandfather for dinner tonight. No more will I have to entertain the thought of aiding that horrid, despicable family—

You rounded the sharp bend, only to feel your stomach plummet to the floor.

Sitting in the middle of the cobblestone pave-way was the table you were desperately hoping would not be. Women flocked around it; an ocean of scarfed heads and chattering voices. If it wasn't for another lady brushing passed you would have stayed there frozen and allowed the small sack to fall through your fingers. The Registrar, you quickly realised with dread, he's still here.

You hadn't been too late, after all.

The Gods continued to hold their frown on you.

"Oi, you!"

You snapped to attention when someone singled you out. A burly man, dressed in robes of blue and pure white with a sword at his hilt. The Palace colours. Everything about his demeanour told you swiftly that he was a Royal Knight.

And this Royal Knight was glaring at you intensely.

"I asked you to move into line!" He thrust a gloved hand to the suddenly startled row of women, whose eyes darted frantically. "You block any woman attempting to come through standing there!"

Survival instincts instructed your body to move on command, knowing full well a Royal Knight was not a man to be trifled with. Especially one twice your size and brandishing a terrifying sword. But because you had a stubbornness that could border dangerous in the wrong situations, you projected a tempered glare his way.

"Forgive me, my Lord." You said through tight teeth.

The Knight bared his own teeth and opened his mouth — obviously, he was unused to common village girls who didn't bend underneath his command. Damned Knights, it was a bitter thought quick in your mind as the Knight brought his hand up, everyone attached to those Royals believed they were above everyone else!

Bracing for a crack to your cheek — like so many others you had witnessed, especially when commoners were loose-lipped with those in high command — your eyes snapped shut. Women shrieked and moved away from the scuffle. Your whole body tensed in expectation.

"Sir Francis!"

It was a strong, steely voice that sliced through the air. Because it was taking too long for the pompous Knight to impact, you risked opening one eye. Then the other when your possible assailant wasn't looking your way any more. What in the world...? 

The Knight was staring over to where the table was when you trained your eyes there, following every other woman's gawks, also. Seated at the table and the obvious owner of the words was the man that took the names down of possible servant candidates. 

The Registrar.

His grey eyes gleamed impatiently underneath the square glasses he donned, mouth stitched.

"—disrespectful, my Lord." You caught the tail-end of what the Knight was saying. "I was teaching her a lesson."

"A lesson, huh?" The Registrar wondered. If you could believe, it looked like he was displeased with the Knight's actions. Surely not, you shook your head minutely amidst the surprise, it was common knowledge that most Knights mistreated commoners. Slapping women was not the worst they could do.

The Knight nodded stoically.

"Bring her here." The Registrar asked with a quick flick of his wrist. "Quickly. Hindrances will only delay the schedule."

"M-My Lord?"

"Are you wasting my time, Sir Francis?"

"A-Absolutely not!" The Knight exclaimed. Then before you could react, he wrapped a strong hand around your frail arm and roughly hauled you forward. Your habit kicked up again on reflex, hurling every disrespectful word you could at the Knight — even attempting to kick him in the shin. But he was Palace trained and you hadn't eaten in days. Any attack you attempted would have been laughably akin to a toddler's in your state.

An unhinged, furious wreck; you were thrown before the Registrar's small table. Your hands flew out to brace yourself against the wood so you wouldn't sink to your knees. No man would make you result to your knees; Royal Guard or the King himself.

But your fumble did result in an ink bottle tipping over and spreading a river of black all over the parchment of names. 

"Ahh! T-The names!" One voice wailed. Another Royal Guard. His tone quickly became seething when directed your way. "You useless cur! You'll atone for this with a whipping—!"

"There will be no whipping." 

Blinking, you shot up to see the face of the Registrar staring you down. Tall and faintly handsome; he had smooth skin of porcelain that threw his grey eyes into sharp focus. A mane of golden hair was kept neatly in a tail at the back of his head — not a piece out of place. You hated how his heavy stare made you gulp. Especially when there was an irritated tick to his jaw.

But then, he sighed. "Fetch me another bottle of ink," He spoke to the Knight over his shoulder. "There should be a Craftsman nearby. You have two minutes."

"My Lord, this behaviour is uncanny. You should not allow her to—!"

"Whipping is a sore waste of time when we have so much women to get through." The Registrar hissed in a tempered whisper that could very well be a chilly breeze. He tossed his eyes back to the Knight, and you noticed the bob of his throat. "Are you attempting to tell me what to do?"

It wasn't a question. It was a careful, dangerous threat.

And the Royal Knight answered him correctly. "N-Never, My Lord!" And with that, he was spun around and off he scurried to find the ink bottle. You noticed the barest droop in the Registrar's tense shoulders, and couldn't help it when the words came tumbling forth;

"You saved me from a beating." 

The Registrar slid his eyes to you. You knew you shouldn't have said it — not because it was improper and lacked propriety, because it did. You had no care for that. It was because he was looking at you now as a human would stare at an insect, and you were reminded of why Royal Court Members were people you'd never show gratitude to.

Straightening, you steeled your spine and hardened your glare. "I don't know what I can offer you." You hissed.

The Registrar may appear as if he is looking at a bug, but now his eyebrow raised. An interesting bug, perhaps. "I do hope you don't believe you can become a servant with no etiquette."

"Oh, I don't want to be a servant." You said proudly. "It was my Grandfather who sent me."

"Surely, he does not place the hopes of income on you?" The faintest ribbon of amusement in his tone. You caught it, and grinned.

"Better on me than a useless airhead woman who has no backbone when expected to serve in a Castle of Thieves."

Were you purposely attempting to jeopardise your chances? Perhaps. Your sharp tongue was more to do with the gleam of jest in the Registrar's cool grey eyes. It rubbed your nerves wrongly, how the Royal Workers thought the people they ruled were amusing little rodents; only to give money and anything else material. 

"The Castle of Thieves?" He ventured, albeit lowly. It would surely be odd if the Registrar repeated such accusations of his place of work. You couldn't help but be taken aback by his curious manner, but hid it well.  

The Registrar leaned back. No longer an insect, you thought as he regarded you with indifference. You had upgraded to a comical animal. The barest smile on his lips gave it away.

"You speak boldly." Was all he offered.

"Someone in this village has to." You countered.

"Speaking boldly in the Palace will result with your skin being littered with scars. Court Members are everything but lenient."

"Well, then that's that settled! I'm just too improper to be a servant woman. Truly, a shame." Secretly elated, you were preparing to turn right around. "I thank you for listening to me, My—"

"Wait."

Your bones and muscles snapped, froze. With an uneasy feeling in your gut that your habit had just upset the Registrar, who commanded the Knights around him, did you hesitantly look over your shoulder. When he said nothing but stared did you hold back a sigh and turn right around.

"Yes, My Lord?" You got out. A beating? Or perhaps you will be forcefully robbed of your innocence? It was unwise to question the extent of punishment a high-standing Official could mete out. But were you sorry? You grit your teeth, never in an aeon of existence.

The Registrar was quiet for a second, only studying you with everything but a livid expression. It not only made you perplexed, it also made you more nervous than what a glare would do. "Do you have your birth papers?" 

You blinked. "Pardon?"

"Your birth papers. I expect you have them on you?"

Indeed, but you weren't about to give them up to this man. Although two Royal Knights had suddenly flanked either side of you — attracted by the commotion and why you were taking so long. So, with a jaw locked and eyes daggering into the man before you, did you reach into your sack and produce the heavy parchment. 

He took it in his long, nimble fingers. Studied it with eyes downcast under his peculiar frames.

"[Name] Willows. Of childbearing age," He glanced up. "I assume you are unwedded?"

He assumes. You forced the annoyance down into your gut. Right where the other hatred for the Royals and their henchmen resided. "No." The Royal Knights and their weapons made you spit, "My Lord."

You and the grey-eyed Registrar didn't break the stare-off, not even when the Knight came stumbling back with the fresh ink-bottle in hand.

"My Lord!" He yelled breathlessly. "My Lord, I have fetched the ink. Some new parchment too. Courtesy of the Craftsmen Charlisle."

"He has my thanks," The Registrar opened his palm behind so the bottle could be placed there. When it was, did he spread the new parchment out and dip a fine quill in. "[Name] Willows," He said the name like a condemning sentence. The very end to all of your happiness. Your wide eyes tracked each swirl of the quill, every dot and dab. No way —

The Registrar sat up and smiled at you. It was that unnerving half smile. One that set all your nerves alight and spread fire coursing throughout your bloodstream. "Congratulations. Starting today, you shall be a training servant woman. May you enjoy your stay in the Castle of Thieves."

You let every bit of your pride go in the moment of shock. Mouth gaping, eyes widened. Surely there had been a mistake. There was no way the Castle accepted women who didn't keep their thoughts, voices and tongues to themselves. It was a matter of propriety, and in the Castle — propriety was held at the highest value. The Registrar was still studying you when the red cleared from your vision.

"Miss [Name]," He questioned. "Did you hear me correctly? There are others we must see to."

This damn Registrar, your fists clasped at your sides, practically vibrating with rage, this man was messing with you! He had to be!

"You can't be serious." You whispered. "The Castle would never allow it."

"I'm the Registrar. My duty is to choose what women I believe will make the most able servants. And perhaps, dare I say, you've enlightened me. It's true. Women who, as you say, 'have no backbone' will never survive serving under the Prince and King of the Yo Court."

The sentence was sealed in stone. Due to your habit, your humanly need to not be treated as scum by the higher-ups in society had just landed you in your worst nightmare. A job at the Caste, serving under the monarchs you hated the most. Being given a wage made from the taxes these villagers were being squeezed of. And there was absolutely nothing you could do about it.

Already plunged into hell, you figured you may as well go out with a bang while you descended.

"What is your name?" You whispered to him. 

His golden brow cocked. "I'm the Registrar."

"You mean to tell me your Mother gifted you with that name?"

A beats silence. The Registrar stayed still, contemplating long enough to deceive you into thinking he would not answer. Of course he wouldn't, pompous Court Official that he was. But after the silence was up, he leaned over the table. This wicked grey-eyed man who had just sealed your fate under lock and key.

"Kunikida Doppo," He said to you. "Secretary to The Throne. I will also be controlling your wages, Miss [Name]. I do hope your time-wasting habit does not carry over to your work."

You met him with a challenging smirk. "My Lord, Kunikida Doppo. How grateful I am to be granted this chance. Of course, I won't waste my time." Then, your voice dipped into a deadly whisper. One that was uncanny to any woman of society. Or any woman who wished to keep alive, period. Yet you, in that moment, couldn't find it in yourself to give a damn. "But I can promise you that I'll do everything to waste yours."

Outside the Throne Room, the Royal Palace of Yo

Court Officials; dressed in their beautiful garments of fine silks and studded gems, waited cautiously outside the Throne Room. The women with fans open in front of their faces to hide their frowns. Frowns, after all, stressed the skin to a point of wrinkles. No woman of the Court should be caught doing such a thing. The men had their hands of the hilt of their swords, swearing under their breaths and chattering in low voices.

"What do they think the Prince will do? If none of us could crack 'em, why do they think a pampered Royal can?"

He was met with violent shushing of another man. This one was a lot older and therefore, not as arrogant. Arrogance in the Palace of Yo got any man killed.

"Idiot!" He hushed. "Don't speak so easily of the Prince! Have you not heard his name in the halls?"

"His name?" The other man wasn't impressed. "'Course I have. It's common knowledge to know our Prince's—"

"No, his nickname. 'Demon Prince' is what the walls call him! You would be wise not to doubt his abilities of cruelty. Especially during interrogation."

The nickname of the Prince, the only Prince of Yo and heir to The Throne, sent violent shivers down each spine in the room. Women recoiled further behind their embellished fans, men cast their faces to the shadows with thin lips. It was all except for the gaudy original man, who had recently only joined the Court and was foolish in his thinking.

"Pwah!" He scoffed. The soft whisper of metal as he took out his sword. "I don't believe for a second that a spoiled Prince could do what actual Guards couldn't do! He was a lapdog his whole life — an only child!" There was an arrogant smile on his face. Perhaps the reason why he didn't notice the heavy sounds of doors opening behind him, or the desperate quiet pleas of the Court Members, was because he was so caught up in his bragging.

Whoosh, his sword sliced lazily through the air and he declared loudly, "I wager I could knock the brat on his behind with just one match!"

"Truly?"

It was a new voice that filtered through the air, stiffening everyone's bones in the hallway. Soft and mellifluous, the tone of the Yo Prince was rumoured to send men to their knees, women shaking with uncontrollable sobs, and government officials to tighten their jaws.

Today, his voice was echoed by the hiccups and tears from inside the Throne Room. The man that every Guard was interrogating without success was resulted to a blubbering, pathetic mess with just ten minutes alone with the First Prince.

The man brandishing the sword swivelled right around.

It wasn't only his voice that could break even the most hardened souls with wicked words. Rumours circled that it was his eyes — the shade of mahogany, of whiskey mixed with deep coffee. They bore into your spirit. Scanned deeply until you were stripped bare of everything you attempted to hide.

There was a sudden clang of metal on the tiles. The Prince didn't even flinch. He continued to stare at the now defenceless man, who was shaking in his boots.

The Prince cocked his head. "Would you be so kind to repeat yourself? I don't think I heard correctly."

Perspiration broke out everywhere along the man's skin. He was shaking so much now that he was sure of collapse. No one in the hallway was surprised, and braced themselves for the fate of the arrogant Court Official. He barely had lasted a week, and proceeded to insult the Prince to his face. Death, or something far worse, was imminent.

"N-N-Nothing—Nothing, My Liege." The shaking man regurgitated the words. Unashamedly, there was a growing patch of wet taking form in his tights. "I-I-I assure you."

 The Demon Prince let absolutely nothing change in his expression. Silence befell over them, heavy and thick, coating everyone in a layer of sticky oil. No one dared breathe, blink or even move. Not when an execution was about to be sentenced.

But the Prince did something more than that, and objectively a lot more terrifying.

He smiled.

"Ah, is that so? Forgive me, Guard-san. It appears the interrogation has left me tired~" His eyes blinked once, twice, and the dark coffee was now a bright whiskey. That was the other rumoured thing about the Demon Prince; his usual persona was calm and silly, yet underneath there housed a terrible monster no one should get in the way of.

He turned to another Guard. "Officer-san?"

"Y-Yes!" The older man stood to stoic solute.

"He's a spy of the Ko Kingdom," The Prince said easily, gesturing to the man who was crying on the floor in the Throne Room. No doubt his soul had ben fractured into thousand irreparable pieces. "Was sent to gather information on our economy. Word is spreading quickly that our drought is near crippling. He was due to report back to the Kingdom yesterday," He let out a light, almost playful sigh. "But you see, the man got greedy and enjoyed himself too much in a brothel house last night~! Spilled his entire guts to a lovely whore he was accompanying. What do you say to that, Officer-san?"

The man almost turned green with pressure. "I—I have nothing to offer, only that it was a life threatening mistake on his part, My Liege."

"Ehhh, you think brothels are 'life threatening', Officer-san?"

"T-That is not at all what I was—"

A peal of perfect laughter rang out when the Prince threw his head back. His mass of brown curls fell perfectly over his eyes when he straightened, those eyes decorated with long dark lashed were shut in happy moons. Deceitful, that was the First Prince of Yo, and God love anyone who fell for his blindingly attractive charm.

"My, my, Officer-san. You're like an innocent school-girl! How about we go to a brothel and find a lovely lady to not tell your wife about~?"

"M-My Liege!" 

"Come now, don't be nervous. Life if all about new experiences."

"I can assure you that I have—I have—!"

The atmosphere around the hallway was gently eased until the air was at least breathable again. Some brazen women snapped their fans shut now that their lips were upturned into a smile. Many of the men engaged in the Prince's easy banter. It was no small secret that, when he was in the correct mood, that the Prince had his way with people. Those who never touched or saw the other side to him naturally flocked to his presence.

The only remnants of his commanding, terrifying side was the sounds of wails in the Throne Room; a spy who stood no chance against the Prince's careful questions that everyone decided to stay ignorant to.

That and the shaken man who had been on the receiving end of the Prince's stare. The man who stared death right in the face through eyes of the darkest brown, and escaped, but was now resulted to a soiled, sword-less mess. Frozen to the spot, staring at the open Throne Room and unable to escape from the nightmare the Prince has traumatised him into.

"Were you successful?"

The Prince of Yo, nicknamed the 'Demon Prince'  by many of those who were unfortunate enough to encounter that side, strolled into the Quarters he was summoned to. This room was laved in gold and expensive jewels, silk bedsheets and grand oil paintings. In those paintings was the man who ruled over the entire Kingdom of Yo. And, the owner of the voice that called to his visitor.

The King of Yo; King Dietrich. He rarely uses his family name, although the house they lived in was brandished with the surname Dazai.

With a sigh, the Prince waved his hand. "The man was like an open book. Too easy to read, I got him to talk within a minute."

The King turned from the window to gaze at his son. His only son, and yet, there was a rift between them that was too cold to be one of family. They were simply King and Prince, and their fondness never extended past those titles. 

He raised a brow. "Officer Hijikata told me you were in there for ten minutes."

At that, the Prince smiled. It was a bone-chilling smile, one that sucked the light from his eyes. "There are other things to do to a man's mind when you take away all his secrets."

The King regarded his son for a long moment, through the brown eyes so similar to his. Then, let out the most regal of sighs. "Such an unsightly habit you have, Dazai. You'd be careful not to terrorise the new servants being trained. It's taxing enough that your branded with a nickname."

"Nicknames are commoner games. Do you think they use them to feel power? That brandishing another with labels is how they humanise?"

"There you go again, speaking so unsightly. These manners will slip out to the public."

Dazai Osamu, the Prince of Yo and Heir to the Throne, waltzed lazily over to his Father's desk and picked up a tumbler. It was gorgeously carved out of magnificent glass, intended truly to be a gift for the King.

He poured himself a healthy serving of whiskey and downed it in one go. Alcohol never did much to fill the indescribably gaping hole in his existence, but it made him feel something.

"Then let them. It'll only produce more labels. More ways of pointless humanising," He brought the empty glass to his lips and stared distantly. Through those eyes that broke men down, that instilled fear into those older than him, that yearned for amusement to distract himself from his outlook on life. "It matters not. I don't deserve the title of human, any way."

ྀི. Chapter Notes:

↣ "The Registrar" is a title I gave to Kunikida as he was taking names from the women who were registering to become a servant of the Castle. It's not his official title, however. His official title is The Secretary of the Palace.  ↣ A "Secretary" to a Throne is someone who supports many aspects of a monarch's private affairs; such as finances, schedules and correspondence. The main duty of The Secretary is to communicate the monarchs wishes to different areas of Government. Sometimes, a Court Secretary can also be The Secretary of State. ↣ Prince Dazai's nickname; "The Demon Prince of Yo" is a direct play on his nickname "Demon Executive" of the Port Mafia during the Dark Era arc of the anime. And the Fifteen Light Novel arc, I think? I tend to mention these plays throughout the book as I don't want to discredit Asagiri and make it clear what are my ideas an what is parody. ヾ(≧▽≦*)o ↣ Dazai's closing dialogue of; "I don't deserve the title of human, any way" is drawn from both Osamu Dazai's book No Longer Human and his ability in the anime, No Longer Human.

ʚɞ . . . 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

ʚɞ . . . 𝐌𝐘 𝐏𝐀𝐆𝐄

#bungou stray dogs fanfiction #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #dazai osamu #dazai osamu x reader #dazai x reader #kunikida doppo #crowns of stardust #headers by astralnymphh #dividers by saradika! #port mafia #armed detective agency #🪄— milky writes

[fanfic-gremlin-ft-trauma]

hey, for purely angst purposes, listen to the song "in the wind" by lord huron, imagine it as a song from zuko to (dead) sokka, and fucking suffer. obviously older zukka here but i love the suffering.

hey anon? yeah, FUCK you

I literally will never ever recover from this

“You are the purest soul I’ve ever known in my life.” Shut up shut up SHUT UP

“You know where you can find me again. I’ll be waiting here ‘til the stars fall out of the sky.” SCREAMING CRYING??? Imagining Sokka in the spirit world and Zuko knowing that he’s there but he can’t do anything about it because the connection to the spirit world was severed hundreds of thousands of years ago and he feels helpless because Sokka is RIGHT THERE-

“When you left I was far too young.” BC HE DIED YOUNG.

“To know you were worth more than the moon and the sun.” Do I even need to explain this one 😭😭

“You are still alive when I look to the sky in the night.” BC SOKKA SHOWED HIM THE SOUTHERN LIGHTS FUCK OFF

“I would wait for a thousand years, I would wait right here by the lake my dear.” Imagining Zuko sitting by the turtleduck pond, just staring at all the spots that Sokka and him used to sit. Sometimes he just stares at the water for hours, head empty but filled with grief. AGHHhH

“Years have gone but the pain is the same.” Don’t even want to imagine lok Zuko mourning him rn

“I have passed my days with the sound of your name.” Him rereading old letters, trying desperately to remember Sokka’s voice, always saying his name to himself so he’d never forget, even if he knows he won’t.

“Well they say that you’re gone and I should move on, I wonder: how do they know, baby?” All of his palace staff and friends and family knowing that even if Zuko acts like he’s moved on he hasn’t and they can’t do anything but stare at him with pity and he hates that they know

“Death is a wall but it can’t be the end.” HES IN THE SPIRIT WORLD WAITING FOR YOU 😭

“You are my protector and my best friend.” …..I need a 45 minute nap to recover from this line

Yeah so uh, this is the dead Sokka from Zuko song

Anon I demand a 200 word, fully formatted apology x

#atla #zukka #zuko x sokka #asks #my asks #AHHHHHHHHHHHHH IM FUCKING #CRYING???? #NO I CANT I CANT DO RHIS RN #WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO MEEEEEEE #ITS SO THEM BUT IM #I CANT #YES I NEEDED TO DO A WHOLE ANALYSIS BC IM INSANE LIKE THAT #(anyway anon in all seriousness #thank u for hurting me and exposing me to this #bc I didn’t know I needed it until I needed it #like I’ll think about this forever #I’ll literally have to stop during my science exam tmr and think abt this #changed my brain chemistry changed the trajectory of my life #thank u)

[tennessoui]

Could u rec some more (obikin) fics please?

sure! to shake things up a bit, here's a list of wips I'm really excited for (for a variety of reasons, but mostly because i want more people to read wips)

(i've tried to include a mix of ratings and tags, but i just went through my history for these, so if there's a lot of a specific tag, i had a micro-obsession and no shame):

Passion by why-is-my-nose-a-carrot (updates to this story and their previous one literally make my day, I'm obsessed with their writing style and story choices and i could literally go on and on this is probably the wip i'm most hyped about)

Taking Care by @ragnarlothcat (always obsessed with a good mission fic paired with a feelings realization that then blends seamlessly into 'i did not just have that feelings realization what are you talking about don't be silly.')

earthshine by posthumous_vigor (deaged obi-wan and emperor vader and baby twins who just want their uncle ben back while vaderkin misses his master but appreciates the younger version, but really, really misses his master's kisses)

do you know the name faith by heian (padawan obi-wan & master anakin, force dyad, so promising, huge love and huge anticipation)

How Hondo Ohnaka Accidentally Saved the Galaxy by DontCallMeShirley (super funny, love the concept, love Hondo's voice--he drugs obikin so that they don't interfere with his plans. they don't. they get married instead. Just. So good.)

Νόστος by NFx (I love a Hades/Persephone fic, I mean--I did write one myself but I'm just so excited to read one. I never get tired of these! This is just chef's kiss on my favorite sort of possessive and protective tropes.)

Blindfold me (I'm the only witness) by @lilredghost (jeez i love this, very explicitly porn very 'speaking to the id'. consensual somno so as to sidestep obi-wan's massive guilt complex)

Any Other World by @mysticmjolnir (I was so excited to see this update!! it's been one of my favorite Post-Kenobi show release fics. Like. Just the angst! the hurt! the longing! an anakin and an obi-wan who want their anakin and obi-wan but also want each other because they're the closest they may ever come to the their obi-wan and anakin again)

Welcome Surprises by nephilimswitchlight (such a sweet fic, where anakin surprises obi-wan with his presence on his birthday)

soft, warm, mine by lovbaby (oof. salivating at this fic concept, cannot wait for a second chapter. i can already tell the misunderstandings will be BEAUTIFUL)

if this isn't nice, what is? by anonymous (anakin learns how to jerk off with his new mechno hand. he also learns how to jerk off while thinking about obi-wan. delicious. cannot wait for more)

this land is mine, but i'll let you rule by travellingcircus (i would follow travellingcircus wherever they lead; i love their fics and have probably reread them constantly. in this one, anakin buys a slave to help him on his moisture farm but like. obi-wan's definitely a jedi. right? right??)

bodies (& the celestial reimagination) by @noona96n (i just found this fic last night but it's absolutely darling, i love any fic that starts with anakin as a baby padawan and him hero-worshipping obi-wan im a weak gal i have simple needs. i cannot wait to see how this story develops going forward!)

we're swimming with the sharks (until we drown) by @coldwaughtered (another fic I found just last night, but in love! high-powered, put together lawyer and smitten anakin with probably equally smitten obi-wan but the pov is anakin's so that comes off stronger at first + fake marriage for more money which i guess means obi-wan was like if this twunk marries someone else i'll stop being distracted and NOT fall into a consensual workplace relationship only for that to majorly backfire! love the playing with the timeline as well)

The Other Half of My Soul by RedMetalWitch (It took a few months to convince myself to read this as I wasn't quite sure on how absolved of his sins/darkness Anakin would be--my greatest fear unless i'm in a particular once a year sort of mood is a uwu darth vader--but i absolutely adore this fic. i don't know who isn't already following it, but worth the read!)

Shutting the eye of reason by anonymous (another guilty pleasure fic, where anakin is extremely jealous of qui-gon for taking up all of his master's time, and decides to do something about it. mainly by seducing him.)

and of course to round off the list, my beautiful and constant obsession and pipedream that one day it will update if only i keep the faith:

Open Circle by Calyss (my absolute favorite take on sith obi-wan i've ever read. I cannot explain more. It's just so good.)

#asks #obikin #fic recs #support your local wips #i haven't had much time to read lately #but these are some of my subscribed stories #there's a ton of talent in obikin fandom though so i know im missing some up and coming fics that i know are gonna rock my world :D #long post #also if you see your fic here and have a tumblr you want me to tag pls lemme know

[awkwardtortilla]

i can’t find dylan’s birthday but i know in my soul he has a summer birthday and we’re going with it for this request-

just imagine making sure dylan wakes up late (maybe recruiting the kids and fellow counselors to tire him out and keep him in his cabin) and getting into the radio hut to make a special announcement on the PA for his birthday before just spending his birthday spoiling him and convincing mr.h to give you back your phones for the day to take pictures of each other

i just love dylan leave me be-

Ohohohoho fuck yea

Birthday

So I was really friggin excited to write this so my brain could not form actual paragraphs so we’re rollin with bullet points. Sorry if you’re not into that

[I’m rereading this and dam I was all over the place but I’m too lazy to go back and fix it so hope you enjoy what my sleep deprived brain conjured]

warnings: none???

You had been planning this for a week, going over it again and again to make sure everything would go as it should

It had been surprisingly easy to get the kids to go along with everything (you supposed they just liked Dylan that much)

But your fellow counselors *cough*cough* Emma and Jason *cough*cough* required a bit of bribing

But $10 a person wasn’t too bad, especially when considering the cause

The day before Dylan’s birthday a group of kids (supervised by Kaitlyn) would do their best to tire him out

Then that night kids would keep him up late with bathroom trips and checking for monsters

In the morning everyone would steer clear of the cabin he slept in

But as a safety precaution Ryan would stand guard and make sure that happened

Abi would be in the kitchens with Emma cooking a small but special breakfast complete with pancakes, scrambled eggs, sausage, and bacon

Nick, Jason and Kaitlyn would keep the kids in line and keep them following the regularly scheduled activities

As for yourself, you’d be persuading Mr. H into giving yours and Dylan’s phones back for the day — just for pictures

One desperate promise to make his coffee for the remainder of the summer later, Mr. H let up and agreed and handed back the devices

Then it was off to the camp radio station

You and Dylan had hung out plenty of times and even had a few dates there so you knew your way around

You plopped into the chair, turned things on, and cracked your knuckles

When the clocked ticked to 10:30am you pressed the button and summoned your best radio announcer voice

“HEEEEELLOOOO HACKETT’S QUARRYY!!! The time is currently 10:30am and from now until tonight it’s gonna be bright and sunny with a high of 92 and a low of 74 with just a couple of clouds. A very fine day indeed. A fine day for a fine man and his birthday!! That’s right, kings, queens, and non-binary beans! Today, [insert date], marks the one, the only, the best, Dylan Lenivy’s date of birth! Be sure to wish this adorable king a very happy birthday when ya see him, I’m sure he’d appreciate all the love. And, uh, that seems to be it for now, so it’s on to the song of the day, which is Just Like A Movie by Wallows, then activities’ll continue as normal. Have a great day, campers, and remember, what doesn’t kill you, will make you stronger.”

You took your finger off the speaker button and tapped the one that played the song

As you waited for it to be over you hummed along and wondered if you had your hand cut off, would that make you stronger?

Especially if it was your dominant hand??

As the song drew to a close you turned it off and got on the speaker again just for a couple reminders

“Once again, that was Just Like A Movie by Wallows, and today is Counselor Dylan’s birthday, so wish him well when—“

The door opened and a very red Dylan stepped in

“Oh, hey, Dyl.”

“Uh— good morning, [your name].”

“Happy birthday, Dyl.”

“Thanks, [your name].”

You’re sure everyone on the other side of that microphone could hear your smirk and Dylan’s blush

He joined you for a bit and as you chatted you got ppl to yell happy birthday to him and almost go them to sing when Dylan cut you off and took the reigns

He quickly and smoothly wrapped things up and couldn’t look at you without turning pink bc of your proud, sly smirk

He “complains” about all the ppl stopping him on the way here to say happy birthday but you can tell he’s flattered by it all

You chuckle and kiss his cheek and get up to lead him to the mess hall for breakfast

You thank the girls and pay Emma as they set a stack of pancakes with candles on the top in front of a chair

Dylan also thanks them but is in kind of a daze

He snaps out of it when you, Emma and Abigail start singing

You don’t think you’ve seen his face be it’s natural shade all day he’s been blushing so fricken much

When you’ve finished eating and the girls have left, you and Dylan chat a bit then head out to do the stuff you’ve planned

I mean other than last night, this morning, and the radio announcement, you hadn’t planned much

But you did intend to spoil Dylan every chance you got and take dumbass pictures

You did both, going on walks in the woods and taking a video of him trying to impress you by climbing a tree but getting stuck

And of him trying to walk across a stream but falling on his ass

Then he took pictures when you fell in too, the images getting progressively blurry as you threw a twig at him and he dodged

There were lots of random ones of Dylan mid-conversation but lookin so dam fine in the lighting

Lots of selfies with Dylan up close showing off his nostrils and you in the back laughing or throwing up a peace sign or finger guns

There are so many fucking pictures of Dylan finger gunning at the camera it could be it’s own album

And he always has this super enthusiastic smile like 😃

Anyways

You have a pretty modest lunch but the kids keep wanting pics with him so it takes forever to finish

Afterward you and Dylan just hang around camp doing random shit with the campers

You paint and swim and end the day with Ryan’s scary campfire stories

And there’s pictures and videos of it all

Pics of Dylan concentrating so hard on his art, the hilariously bad final result

Videos of him doing the thumb measuring thing and spilling his glass of water

Stuff of him doing cannonballs and playing with the kids and posing to show off his nonexistent muscles

There’s only a couple photos of you and Dylan sitting on the ground with your backs against a log full of kids

There’s a selfie two took with all of them

Then another that Ryan took of you passed out against each other

#dylan lenivy #the quarry #the quarry game #the quarry dylan #dylan lenivy x reader #the quarry x reader

[belethlegwen]

You are so wonderful and I hope things smooth out for you sooner rather than later. Obviously you should prioritize yourself first (god knows we all have sooo much good fic of yours to reread), but it leads me to a question I’ve been too shy to ask 👉👈 how do you feel about recursive fic about your fics/characters? Would you be ok with us sharing it with you/others, crediting you for the creation of such good characters of course? I have serious Stranding/Rescue brainworms and it’s making me want to write drabble & fluff for the first time in a long time 💕 of course it’s fine if you’d be more comfortable with me not posting it — either way, thank you soooo much for sharing this lovely world & worldbuilding & all the characters within. I will be rotating them in my head for years no matter what 🙇

Hello and good morning! Or afternoon, I'm not sure. I'm drafting this answer over a late breakfast because I got a precious day of sleeping-in and I'm still thinking deeply about it.

Firstly: I want to hug you so tight (if you were down) because this is wildly sweet and flattering, thank you so so much for reaching out at all even just about the works, but the wishes that things smooth out are highly appreciated ;-; We're looking… solid? Right now? But there's still so much up in the air and hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh I won't bore you with it, it's not the reason I'm drafting this out.

ABOUT RECURSIVE WORKS [very long, read under the cut, tl:dr summary at the end]:

I would love it. I would genuinely, honestly love it, with the caveats that you laid out that proper credit would be given (thank you so much you lovely beautiful soul), that it be clarified wherever it is shared that it's based on characters/settings/storylines of the current works, but truly importantly that it would clarify that the works are actively still being written at this time.

That's my biggest hesitation, if I'm being honest. The stories are both at this time unfinished (they are all unfinished, I am a creature with heavy need to process things through writing and, quelle surprise, I am never truly finished processing anything, new shit just needs to get processed, wheeeee) and being that they're unfinished, there's a chance that any recursive work could hit on a scene/plotpoint/moment that I've already got plotted out for the future. I'm not Neil Gaiman or anything, I'm not planning to make money off of this work, so it's not my concern that you or anyone else is gonna turn around and try to sue me for stealing something or whatever-- that's not the problem. I just don't want you or anyone to feel at that point that the effort you put into something was then copied and put in the main work or something.

It's an odd situation. The odds of it actually BEING a problem I know are astronomically low, but I didn't get to where I am today without chronically overthinking everything.

I love that you have a desire to create, and I do not know who you are-- I don't know if you already have projects and characters of your own and just want to branch out with something familiar-but-new, but I want to encourage you to use this energy and focus for writing all the same. If you can put it into your own works, hell yeah, but also: yes I would be flattered if you used my dorks and their silly little worlds. It's just the concern where I'm not finished with the stories yet. I just am, again, overthinking and overworrying, likely, but if I could stop doing those things then life would presumably be easier.

I would be absolutely down for like, experimental works I believe is the best term for what I'm looking for. Characters and stories based off of my works that are wholly new. Want to write a refracted AU about Melinda and Hank in Space? Fuck yeah, yes. Though I mentioned this to Zip and they immediately told me No, We're Doing That One and we laughed about it for a hot minute, so maybe not exactly those names hahaha

I guess another question here is, if you were to put in the effort and the focus and the pride of writing something based on my characters, of a scene you had in your head, and got through the beauty and pain of creation to get it down and then put it out there, how would you feel if something similar then happened in the main work? Not the same, not based on what you did, but that similarity still there and still noticeable at least to you. Like if someone had written (before I had posted them) something similar to Melanie being involved in a Naval battle, even though I have the receipts that that arc was written in November of 2022 and only finished posting in September 2023, I don't know how they would feel to still see that like, a similar idea had been there.

On one hand, personally, I love being in the G/t community and reading other people's works when I have the spoons and focus and time to do it, because I love that something as simple as "small person falls and big person catches them" permeates the ideas so often, and what that can mean to dozens of different creators. Refracting the same light through a diamond and watching the facets all scatter it differently, etc etc. It's beautiful. It makes me happy. But that's a personal thought, and I know how deep and personal writing can be. I know how much the process of creation can mean to the individual. I don't want you to go through that, to write something beautiful even if just for yourself, and then think in some possibility later that because I did something similar I was trying to do it 'better' or whatever. It's not the case, it's never the case.

So, after chatting about this with people I love in this community (I love you Zip and Kelly <3), I think the solution is: If you want to chat with me about the like, basic bare-bones of the ideas you might have just to give me a heads up, and I can let you know if it's something that'll be in the main works soon and if I'd rather you wait on something, or if I'd go 'oh fuck yeah, go ham', I would adore to chatter away with you about it all regardless. I'd love to chatter with you about writing in general! My characters, your characters, whatever. I'm down. Please feel free to hit me up and I'll get back to you whenever I can <3

Let me know what you think! Thank you so much for the sweet message and the ask!

Cheers,

~ Belle

[TL;DR]

When it comes to recursive works I'm interested and open to them provided they're not something major/heavy I'm planning to tackle too soon in the future canon, as the works are still being written and posted. I am always down to receive DMs about writing, and would prefer to get messages about the recursive fic ideas (as vague as you'd like them to be!) just so I can give a quick yes/no on if it's something I'd rather you wait on until I can get it out myself, or whathaveyou. I don't see this being a huge problem, and if you're good for chatting then I'm positive we'll have a good time with this <3

Writing recursive fics for my existing, in-progress works means agreeing to the caveats that credit be given to me and the existing works, and clarifying when posting that the fic is not canon and the works they're referencing/possibly based on are still in progress/being written. It also means accepting that there is a chance that things tackled in your fics may be similar to things that have not yet been posted for said works.

When it comes to experimental fiction based on my characters, settings, or plot: hell yeah go full 50 Shades if you want to. File the serial numbers off of it and/or write something New Enough. It's what I did to Jonathan Swift, please feel free to do it to me hahaha.

Shortest answer: Yes, just send me a quick message first <3

#g/t #giant/tiny #giant tiny #g/t author #g/t writing #gtauthor #author thoughts #gt #asks and answers #For real I am extremely down for messages about this kind of thing! #And would love to yammer with folks about it if they wanted #Sorry about how long and rambly this was but inside me there are two wolves #and neither of them will shut up #Having issues posting this for some reason so I'm gonna try again

[kurisus]

Noragami reread: Volume 13 & 14 thoughts

With this, I am halfway through the reread.

Thinking about how the entire thing with Yato's father exploded because of one thing he said while in Yomi. Kunimi overheard him saying something about his father, mentioned it to Bishamon and Kazuma, who then try to figure out his location as a way of getting revenge for Ebisu. Kazuma tries to get it out of Yato, but of course he won't talk, so we see this escalate the following volume when he goes after Yukine.

If Yato hadn't mentioned a father in Yomi, Kunimi wouldn't have had any details to give Bishamon and Kazuma, and they probably would have found the storm at the Iki hospital suspicious but not particularly evidence of anything. Tsuguha would still have been struck, but Kazuma wouldn't necessarily know this was all tied to Yato and go after Yukine. I just. Man. The throughline of this one is really solid.

I'm also thinking very hard about Hiyori's worries about her far shore friends giving her a hard time as far as her career is concerned. She can't focus on whether or not she wants to be a doctor because she keeps thinking about these souls, frozen in time, able to learn new skills but never age.

Along with this, trash dad laughs in her face when she talks about not forgetting Yato, because he knew she already has. She's always at risk of becoming too distant from the far shore and forgetting everything, and...again, the story has been about her trying to avoid this. Will she end with her ties cut? I don't know...

I always forget Hiyori had no clue who trash dad was until the upperclassman she's been avoiding for a few months goes "by the way can you stop interfering with my son?" When Yato showed Yukine, she was eavesdropping and couldn't see the screen.

So yeah just imagine this guy you barely know kisses you while you're the most distressed you've ever been, so you run away from him every time you see him for the next few months until finally he reveals he's the dad of one of your best friends. A relatable situation, I'm sure.

Anyway, it makes me sad to know Hiyori picked up on Yato's melancholy during the cherry blossom party and connected it to Sakura when she learned about her. It also makes me sad to know trash dad assumes Yato told her everything, but she just saw his memories--he still doesn't know that she knows. Sakura in general makes me sad. Father manipulated the entire thing of her learning her name, thus forcing Yato to kill her, then scolding him for it. Absolute maniac.

I didn't catch this before, but did Sakura's father have something to do with her death? It's hard to tell because the man's face isn't visible, but the guy carrying her away from her mother wearing the same hat as her dad. Then again, that was the style of hat back then, so it's anyone's guess.

Here are the panels though, for reference.

Yato is thinking of Sakura when he warns Hiyori about his dad, and says "I wouldn't expect you to know this, but my dad is ruthless." But she does know. Banging my fists against the ground.

Hiyori's mom seeming to address her half-ayakashi form, and not her unconscious body, haunts me. She definitely has a sense of her, although I don't think she could quite see her.

The way trash dad fights is super revealing. He summons a masked ayakashi, but before Yato can kill it, he jumps in the way, catching him off guard and forcing him to block with Sekki, thus getting him hit by Chiki.

I am almost positive the "You...stupid!" speech bubble when Yukine gets struck is a little peek of his past, since it doesn't seem like he's talking and none of the others present would say that.

Kazuma and Yukine being relieved they don't have to fight each other hahaha I'm fine (I am not fine)

The entirety of chapter 52 is a doozy, but I'm really honing in on the end--Yato and Ebisu's conversation, and his phone call with Hiyori. So, like:

Yato tells Ebisu his dream, to be together with Hiyori and Yukine. Ebisu chides him with saying gods don't need to have dreams because they exist for the people. He then says Yato shouldn't apologize because since he doesn't feel mad, the old Ebisu wouldn't either. Thus Yato's guilt over letting him die is somewhat assuaged.

But then Ebisu goes on to say people feel just a little safer by knowing gods are there--and repeating that it's not good to have too much interaction between the shores. Death should be feared, he says, or else it would be too easy to cross over. He says this while Yato is thinking of Hiyori begging him to make her his shinki. There's a lot in this volume and the last that directly contradicts the feeling that Hiyori is better off as Yato's shinki, which is part of why I felt so outraged when it seemed like that might be the ending.

Anyway, next Hiyori calls Yato to tell him the hospital is looking up--her brother has returned, her father's friends are recruiting staff, and she herself is going to help out as soon as she can. For the first time since this incident, she's excited for her future. And this is a future that doesn't involve Yato. Remembering Ebisu's advice, he smiles peacefully. This is how things should be, he says. And to drive this point home, he is shown next to the distressed ghost of his kid self, who wanted nothing more than to be seen, worshiped, revered even.

I have a headache and tears in my eyes again. Good lord this chapter is basically the thesis statement of Noragami.

I feel the chapter of Yato saving Masaomi's artist friend, a ghost who loved art but got herself trapped in a painting and was forced to overwork herself, losing all passion, is a pretty on-the-nose allegory for the mangaka lifestyle. It's also interesting to me that less than two years after this, Noragami itself went on hiatus because Adachitoka got injured somehow.

Thinking about how fucked up it is that Kazuma was making small talk with Yato, all while being fully aware he was about to betray his trust by interrogating Yukine. And how, at the end of it, you realize he wouldn't need to teach Yukine spells anymore because he finally overpowered him. But that doesn't stop you from being sad their relationship fell apart.

Kazuma mocks Yukine for giving him too much information, but fails to realize he also gave Yukine the power to defeat him. Because they trusted each other and neither wanted to do this. I'm so sad.

The Discord reactions:

#live update #Noragami reread #GoodbyeNoragami #THANKS TUMBLR FOR GLITCHING OUT AND POSTING THIS EARLY

[tossawary]

I finished rereading SVSSS’s main story and I’m going to get to the extras again next. I forgot how funny this story is. I forgot just how sad this story can be as well (Tianlang-Jun and Su Xiyan, Tianlang-Jun and Zhuzhi-Lang, Yue Qingyuan and the Original Shen Qingqiu, Luo Binghe’s abandonment issues).

Update on the Daemon AU, “Sit With Your Soul”. (Summary: Still planning on continuing it with more and plottier arcs, but I want to do a reread and edit of the first arc beforehand now.) 

I think that I am going to have to do an edit of the first arc of my new Daemon AU, “Sit With Your Soul”. Not a complete overhaul of plot or anything, not changing anything to do with the structure or what happens in scenes, but I feel like I’ve gotten a much better handle on Shen Yuan’s narrative voice now, and so I want to tighten up my narrative style (the wording of certain things, mostly) to bring it more in line with SVSSS. I also want to tighten up a few world and character details, even if it’s an AU and I’m overall pleased with how I’m managed to keep a decent foundation in canon in most of my fanfiction even when I’m intentionally jumping off it.

I’m also going to have to go back and name some of the OCs and the daemons if I’m going to commit to writing a longer and plottier story. When I started writing the Daemon AU, I didn’t know how far I was going to go with it; it was mostly about Shen Yuan and Shen Jiu’s relationship. As I got really into it, by the time I posted, I was like, “Oh, I’m definitely writing more of this.” When I was mocking Airplane Bro in the story for not bothering to name daemons... I was kind of calling myself out for avoiding naming so many OCs. I wasn’t sure whether or not it was going to be worth establishing so many OCs...

(This is exactly what happened with “pride is not the word I’m looking for” and the An Ding disciples... They didn’t get names because 1) it felt right for Shang Qinghua, but 2) I didn’t know if they were going to matter that much...)

The edit shouldn’t take too long. I was going to need to reread the first arc anyway to write the Shen Jiu POV reflection on the first arc that I’ve been planning, so it slots neatly into my to-do list of writing projects. (Now that I’ve reread most of SVSSS, I feel like I’ll be able to write a proper commentary for “love to the ones I’ve never met” and better reflect on PINTWILF.) 

I’ll keep a copy of the original version of “Sit With Your Soul” around somewhere. And I’ll alert people to when I’m actually going to post the edited version, so they can download the original if they like, to compare and contrast. I’ll also try to keep a “patch notes log” for people to review afterwards.

Oh, side note: I recently edited all my stories on AO3 to adjust the spacing between paragraphs (thank you, Find & Replace functions). There are a few spacing issues here and there still, which I’m tackling as I notice them. So if you’re like, “Hm, this looks different,” then that’s probably why.

#tossawary updates #sit with your soul #pride is not the word #tossawary svsss

[weirdcat1213]

Its time for the weekly horrors- I mean Trimax vol 3 >:3

The Thoughts:

chap 1:

-AH EVERYTHING IS FALLING

-bro you are about to get into a fight can you stop thinking about your bf for 5 minutes

-fr tho, vash's words making him hesitate/angry is so dcfgjhbkml

-why everyone wants my babygirl dead :c

-now now, comparing someone with their brother isnt a nice thing to do

-oh so now we're not even making an allegory, he actually called him jeesus

-also "your soul is forced to endure the sorrow by the hundreds, suffering by the thousands, and the rage by the hundreds of thousands" im gonna throw up cuz of how that GOOD and PAINFUL that shit is

-the polar opposite of being a human huh...i mean besides something i said weeks ago about how he's further away from humanity more than he would like that point is interesting cuz most of the time we call him someone who is more human than any other person. he carries more pain than any human could endure and definitely has more patience than anyone will ever have but...hm...i want to come back to this

-ww pls dont make me cry today pls honey

-oh im gonna cry

-"your ideals will join you in the grave" i fucking hate thats the reason why we all try to be better people, thanks to that fucking wet cat of a man i cannot deal actually

-MILLIE :D

chap 2:

-i dont have much to say about battles but let it be on the record that I'm enjoying ww's eyes sm

-oh page 38 is cool as hell

-OH SHIT IS THAT HIS FUCKING SPINE????

chap 3:

-ww stop having pretty eyes youre distracting

-meanwhile :3

-ah geesus the body horror (so good but creepy)

-EYES :D

-so many fucking details. nightow got down even the smallest scribbles, as 98 vash would say

-oh right that....thats still upsetting

-i fucking swear people need to leave my son alone

-also fucking hate that he had to SHOOT A BABY even if it was fake

-I FUCKING HATE THIS ACTUALLY

-i can feel his fucking mind breaking i cant do this

chap 4:

-"i cant do this" yet here i am lmao

-i think if vash held me like hes holding that girl a lot of my problems would be resolved ngl

-characters reciting names always get to me :c

-also HA EAT THE PTSD ASSHOLE

-"why are there so many" brad you may want to sit down for this one

-..................i deadass thought "oh the doctor is here" IVE READ THIS BEFORE AND I FELL FOR IT AGAIN

-vash with his hair down :3

-nah hes not gonna kill you BUT HE FUCKING SHOULD

-oh i will kill so many people (vash is bleeding)

-hm. this reminds me of something in houseki no kuni (i wont spoil but maybe ichikawa had trigun as inspo which would be cool af)

chap 5:

-oh im yeeting myself (ww thinks about the children) -ww gives in his anger and fear when punching those weirdass faces but I'm gonna say this once: that doesn't make him weaker or worst. i haven't seen anyone think that of ww, i just feel that when he compares himself to vash he feels that way and i cant stand it :)

-vash i fucking swear-

-oh god the fingers...the fucking fingers...

-oh you are NOT talking to my vash about pain and agony

-OH WAIT I FINALLY UNDERSTOOD THAT PANEL OH GOD NO I HATE REREADS WTF

-XD my girls

no wait i need to get back to that. i thought that was emilio's dad not fucking vash himself oh my god I'm sick so sick actually wtfffffffffffff

chap 6:

-is this the chapter with the gays eyes cuz I'm not ready for that-

-oh fuck you nightow. fuck you for putting knives in the title page and the title being "families"

-i want to punch so many things but I'm at work. fuck

-also i forgot about this stampede parallel GOD WHEN DOES MY SUFFERING END

-NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO THE GAY EYESSSSSSS

-yeah i agree this is literally the moment. like fuck. fuck actually. fuck what else is there to say.

-fuck

-like hes so fucking terrified that he was afraid for him, what his journey is causing ww, but even if he wanted ww to stay away and safe he knows ww would say fuck off, but also vash would not be able to take it

-THERES SO MUCH FEAR AND LOVE IN THOSE EYES IM GONNA BITE MY HAND

-OH I CANT ACTUALLY WHY DOES THIS HURT SO MUCH WTF

-im so fucking upset cuz the last 3 chapters were basically fights. they were full of energy and shit but now that is over and they are in a rare moment of peace, and everything fucking hits.

-im gonna go outside and step into oncoming traffic

-YES LUIDA MY QUEEN SHUT HIM UP

-WOLFWOOD :D pls never leave me

-i....*implodes*

-i am nothing. i just remembered that.

-OH CMONNNNNN

chap 7

-maybe i dont want to read trimax anymore. maybe a little person like me isn't strong enough for a 2nd round of the pain. with that in mind, lets keep reading :D

-WHERES THE NIGHTOW PUNCHING BAG WHEN YOU NEED IT

-wolfwood what he is it doesnt matter i swear pls cant you just love him?

-:c

-i dont like vash being emotionally attached to stuff cuz that means i have to yell HES LIKE ME FR FR

-oh that....that beautiful panel...amazing

-i think my mind blocked this out because of the previous sad things that happened, so now my brain is allowing me to process more sad things :3

-"i still have so much i must do" and i see i still have many tears to cry out huh?

-ofc wolfwood would ask about redemption

-cant my man show an important part of his past and show vulnerability in front of his friends in peace? damn

-im gonna start bitting my glasses

-GAY MOMENT PART 2 INCOMING

-luida pls i want to stop crying

-oh wolfwood honey....you just fell so hard for my man didnt ya

-i just realized the chapter is called "life as a" and I THINK the idea is to complete it with "life as a 'vash the stampede'" cuz he's not human

OK GREAT NOW I CAN RUN TO THE WASHROOM AND FUCKING CRY :D

#trigun #trimax #trigun maximum #trigunbookclub #nightow sir #i will meet you and i will end you #and then buy you coffee

[wario-speedwagon]

i wanna hear abt whatever "the backflip failed to assert dominance" had going on

Haha, now that one is quite a silly name for what was a more serious, mystery story, with the title stupidly referencing what the plot twist is, hehe! Sadly, this wip was abandoned a long while ago as I didn't have clear ideas for what I wanted to do with the story to its end after a certain point, and I wanted to focus my creativity on the two WIPs I was still feeling inspired by (one of which was Pruny! :). However, I'm feeling generous, so I'll just copy/paste the whole unfinished draft below the cut for your own reading, maybe you'll still enjoy it!

It's very rough and clunky at parts, and rereading it for myself took some strength to not immediately change several lines to make it read less confusingly, but it was better than I remember it being! :) The next paragraphs will be spoiling the "twist" and what plot plans I had for it in case you wanna read it for yourself and come to your own conclusions first, so Spoilers in 3, 2, 1...

. . .

So this story takes place in 1993, the year Freddy's would end up dying. We follow the Scott Cawthon phone guy of the Utah location who has just doomed himself by hiring the infamous Dave Miller. Previously up to this point, DSAF 1 happened as normal with the gnarly ending (where Jack and Dave got away with murder and shut down Colorado), but when DSAF 2 happens, Dave arrives to Bakersfield as Jack never showed up, meaning Vegas was the last he ever saw of him. So Dave has been continuing his Freddy's closing mission one place at a time, though eventually losing his passion for it since he's alone again doing it.

However, the Scotts have gotten more and more cautious of Dave over the years and this one is especially proactive about watching Dave and preventing him from achieving his killing MO if at all possible. Killing time at work to cool off suspicions, Dave records some phone tape recordings (which are featured in and taken from Project: Save the Kiddins), then he checks out Scott's paperwork and sees an application by "Mike Schmidt" who seems suspiciously like an anonymous Old Sport, which excites Dave and inspires him to get his old Spring Bonnie as well as Sportsy's Spring Freddy suit too, now! (After all, he can't just kill the kids not suited up, can he?) Sadly though, it would turn out that this is actually the canon FNAF Mike Schmidt, who as you know is also a rotting anonymous zombie serial working at Freddy's...

Meanwhile, Scott, with Dave having left the premises, finally has some free time for himself and decides to fix the Happiest Day machine before having a "dream" (not realizing he's gone into it) and meets a puppet and some ghost children. And then the story leaves off with Scott feeling compelled to save the children's souls.

I didn't have enough draft written to make my subtle hints grow more obvious before revealing, but if you were somehow very smart enough to figure it out, this Scott is actually a Phonified Jack who springlocked himself (perhaps by backflipping, hence the dumb title hehe) on day one of DSAF 2 before he could ever reunite with Dave. That's why he was extra aware of Dave's danger and methods while also feeling drawn to saving the children in the Happiest Day machine :)

I'll almost certainly never return to this WIP, but it was fun revisiting it and even sharing it, so thanks for the opportunity! :D

Hurricane, Utah, 1993

Friday, XX/16/93

Model 51_1 was swamped in paperwork to work out like usual. As always, too many employees to replace, and thus too many positions to refill. Another dayshift spot to fill after another typical event, another nightguard they'd inevitably gone through, it was always the same sh- crap here. Over half a decade of it for this Scott, not that counting did anything to help his spirit any.

Spirit? No, at this rate, he probably didn't have one of those anymore. That’s assuming he ever had one to begin with. Freddy's was effective at killing those off in anyone who worked there.

Focus, Scott. Let's see what we got for today.

Sighing for impending boredom, he adjusted his gloves in preparation for a whole lot of handwriting and took the first packet. 

Applicants. Alright, let’s see. 

As often as they cycled through employees at Freddy's, new applicants were always found for him by means he didn’t want to know. Probably the cause of their staff being so chronically sketchy though. 

Top sheet.

Randall Jade. 

Applying for night guard. A-And dayguard, how convenient…

Experience: sex work, goose control… the latter might be a relevant skillset… 

Phone no.: 1-800-8=D SEXY PHONE

Place of residence: Freddy's hopefully.

Well…the honesty was the opposite of professional, but Freddy's values rock bottom desperation in its applicants above all else. All in all, the programming in his head told him Jade was an ideal candidate for the position–uh, positions.

Next.

Dave Miller. 

Oh.

Oh no.

Dave Miller. 

Applying for dayshift worker. 

Experience: ur mom. 

Phone no.: 69

Place of residence: ur mom. 

Scott felt like he had been marked next for a death sentence. That's essentially what Dave was, all Phone Guys knew it. Dave Miller was an open secret, a promise for destruction for whichever location he picked next. A blight on Freddy’s not even a crucifixion could solve.

The programming in his head told him Miller was an acceptable candidate for the position.

Next.

Scott's hand trembled as he continued to whittle down tonight’s stack of papers.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Monday, XX/19/1993

Dave had received an unsurprisingly quick response to his work application just a day after submitting. He was naturally hired. Freddy's only survived because it had no standards. But of course, Dave vowed that that would also be its downfall.

So he showed up for his umpteenth first day. He didn't bother finding the Phoney; both of them should know exactly what was up without fake formalities. They knew their place by now. Those guys were like a hive mind with their programming and company newsletters.

Yet as he entered the building, Scott of course was waiting there to meet him anyway. Dave walked past his trademarked Phone Guy greeting to go see how this place’s Saferoom had changed over the decade he’d been gone. Phoney sighed at being ignored; both of them knew it was better for his immediate safety if he left Dave alone to his devices. Dave had to admit, it was in some ways nice to have his reputation finally precede him.

Old Sport had disappeared after Vegas in 87, and once he finally learned he would no longer be following him around, Dave realized he was going to be alone again for a while. But of course, Sportsy would surely come back for him sooner or later?

But in the years of meantime, Dave had tired of the mocking charade he used to put up for the Phoneys. The end result was always the same anyway. It just wasn't fun anymore, and it certainly wasn't needed.

After all, Dave's score was still undefeated.

He was more wary than usual about trying something too soon, though. The Phone Guys these days are always on edge about him, and they're always the most paranoid in the beginning.

To prove his point, he could see this new Scott carefully watching him from afar right now in his periphery. There was something… distinct about this one though… off-putting in some way he couldn't yet pinpoint, but he had a boring week ahead to digest his thoughts.

The best Dave could come up with for now was that it felt like he knew something the other Phoneys didn't. Like he was “in the know.” Whatever that would mean.

Dave checked the Saferoom, but to his surprise, there weren't any springlock suits here. That…was definitely an unexpected wrench in his plan. He promptly went to go properly meet this Scott after all.

“Phone face. Where the fuck're the suits?”

“Ah, now that I would’ve told you during orientation; we had to get rid of those after the original five murders here back in the 80s. Y'know, to prevent any more scandals here after miraculously saving this location from going under. Higher ups are really attached to this first location for some reason.”

Dave was right ticked off. This Phoney smelled like bullshit.

“Freddy's is dying, Dave, and the company's had to… adapt.”

Dave now had weekend plans to visit Bakersfield.

Not dignifying Scott with a response of acknowledgement, Dave just marched off to the office to fuck around on the computer.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tuesday, XX/20/93

Another boring day of not murdering children. Another day of ignoring Phoney’s paranoia.

Dave decided to explore the security office next to kill some time. 

Scott of course noticed Dave’s detour. Seeing him in person again… it filled him with determination. A determination to… do something about him, certainly to stop his usual plan to shut down this location. He’d already gotten rid of the springlock suits last weekend, a crucial ingredient to Dave’s shenanigans that hopefully bought him more time.

He was personally familiar with what this “man” was capable of, and he wouldn’t have it occur under his watch. And certainly not if his hide depended on it.

…

Well shit. 

“Rip in fuck, nerd.”

Dave kicked the dayguard’s nearly headless corpse aside to raid the office drawers for anything interesting.

Most of it was junk like tape, post it notes, pens… no scissors. Maybe he could just draw some dicks and post them around the–

Ah. A tape recorder. Those’re always fun to mess with.

He played the one that was currently inside.

“Hello? Hello, hello? I have a message for you... to help you get settled on your first night. Umm, I actually–"

Dave immediately paused it. He didn’t know why he expected anything other than the same old tiring Scott voice stuttering through some training script. As the years went on, that same voice only irritated him more and more.

But then Dave smiled with bored inspiration and pressed Record.

"Sorry. I just had to cut that asshole off. What a fuckin' nerd. 

Anyway, good fuckin' going on landing a minimum wage job. Where you have to fend off gigantic felt-covered bastard animals who want to smack your neck and stuff you into a fuckin' bear suit. 

That phone guy left some tips of his own to help you survive. But honestly, it didn't do him much good. Spoiler alert: he fuckin' died. What a nerd! So, good ole Davey's gonna give you some of his pre-recorded safety tips!

By the way, this place is totally fuckin' haunted, and that's on me. I sorta murdered a few dozen kids, back in the 80's and stuffed them into the robots out of pure spite for the company. Don't worry though: kids don't count as real people. I'll call ya tomorrow. And remember: you can't out-wrestle the bear, so don't even try."

Satisfied with a job well done, he hit Stop. It felt good to make a positive difference in the world sometimes. Ah, who was he kidding? He smirked thinking of the next nightguard they’d hire hearing this as they fended for their life.

…He was still bored, so heck, tape #2.

"uh, hello? Hello? uhh, well, if you're hearing this then you made it to day 2! um, congrats! U-uh, I won't talk quite as long this time–"

"Hey, how ya doin' man? It's me again: Big Dick Davey! Night 2, eh? Good job on not getting stuffed into a tacky fuckin' bear suit! Honestly, the night should be the exact same as last night was, just with slightly angrier robots who will try to rip your throat out twice as hard.”

He drifted onto a Foxy-related tangent. He had too many opinions to not share them.

“...Well, that's enough pretending that I care about your safety for this night. I'll call you tomorrow with more Freddy's-related bullshit trivia. See you on the meanside.”

Dave looked up at the clock. Seriously? Only 2:15? 

Ugh, whatever, let’s just record another.

"Hello, hello! Hey, you're doin' great! Uh, most people–"

"Hey, yo, doggo, it's me, Davey. Wow, night 3. Incredible. See, if there's one thing I can do, it's give bad advice to future night guards. 

By the way, since these messages are pre-recorded, I have no actual idea whether you're actually alive or not. Let's be honest, statistically, you probably died back on night 1.” 

He looked down at the poor bastard on the ground behind him. 

“Priceless. If you're still alive, worry not. To survive tonight, just do the same shit you did last night, but better.

Just don't dick around and you'll be fine. I'll speak to you tomorrow, dude.”

Dave was starting to get bored again, so he called it a day and stood up from the office chair.

Oh, right. He should probably let Scott know about that bozo on the ground. He considered just letting him be a fun surprise for Scott later, but he was still in the paranoia phase, so Dave would probably be blamed for murdering him if he didn’t report it. He missed that one Colorado Phone Guy, he was probably the most chill one he ever had the pleasure of fucking over.

It was also the Phone Guy he and Old Sport got to take down together. 

Man he missed those fleeting days.

…

“Hey Phone-fuck, yer dayguard’s dead.” He thumb-pointed behind his shoulder toward the room he’d just come from.

“Oh godd-dang it, already?”

Scott grumpily walked over to the security office. Dave had to admit, this one was off-putting for sure, but he appreciated the laxer programming on the fake professionalism of this guy.

Though it made him uncannily human to him, and that circled back to off-putting. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Another night, another stack of papers for Scott motherhecking Cawthon.

He let out a stressed sigh. 

Already he could expect to file another dead security guard. More applicants to reconsider already too. Jeebus, it was only the first night on the job, Randall!

Well, comparing the previously declined applicants against each other again, he– hey, wait a minute, there’s another new application that was submitted today.

Mike Schmidt

Applying for nightguard.

Experience: 20 years in night security, 10 years with Freddy’s.

Place of residence: Hurricane, Utah

H-How conveniently perfect. Although there was no Mike Schmidt in any of the company files despite such a history… He was one of those name-changers. …Whatever, taking their applicants at face value was the Freddy’s way. He of all people should know that better than anyone else.

The programming in his head told him Schmidt was a perfect candidate.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Wednesday, XX/20/93

Dave came in for day 3 of bored snooping around. Hell, maybe he should just start the killing already, just so he could move on from this extra depressing, windowless dump. 

The Phone Guy learned surprisingly quickly not to interact with Dave if not necessary, but that still didn’t end his unusually keen hypervigilance on his movements throughout the building. Dave half considered just dismantling this Phone Guy early himself since his usual MO was already being derailed off tradition.

Not committed to any particular plan yet, Dave went to the kitchen to locate a knife or any sort of stabby paraphernalia for future reference. And to his severe chagrin, there wasn’t a single knife to be found in any of the drawers or counters. Not even any forks.

It was a good fuckin’ thing Dave was a creative thinker, and right now, he was using those creative juices to think of payback for that damn Phoney. Phone Guys were never this annoyingly proactive.

But what, did this guy really think Dave wouldn’t provide his own tools when the time comes? The more annoying Phoneys often had a knack for thinking they’re two steps ahead of his plans, but all those Phone Guys were long gone now. Dave grinned at the thought of that. Served those creeps right.

He found himself in the office. There was paperwork strewn about the desk. There was no reason not to rifle through it. At the top was an application that Scott seemed to have accepted based on the red pen marks circling him when the others seemed blank.

Mike Schmidt, huh?

The more Dave read and pondered his application, the more a hope unexpectedly began to flicker where his heart should be. This guy had quite a history with these restaurants…

He booted up the computer to check the employee file on him, and there was one. Opening it… it seemed to be created this morning? This was a good sign.

Mike Schmidt.

Age: ?? (Note: Avoided answering)

Residence: Hurricane, Utah

Employment history: 1993-current, Nightguard, Location #1

Note: Skin does not look healthy. Avoid physical contact in case of STD, we can’t afford such lawsuits like we used to. Mike doesn’t talk much either. Exercise caution around him.

Heart elated, Dave promptly headed off to the security room.

…

He hit Record.

“...Old Sport! Oh, how I've missed you! You came back. You always come back. Have you come back for me, old sport? Have you come back for ole Davey? I knew it, I just knew that you really loved me! 

Look, I have to go, old sport. But, I'll be right back tomorrow night, okay? Stay alive, old sport. I'll speak to you again tomorrow, sportsy!"

And with that promise recorded, Dave excused himself from work early to start his drive to Bakersfield a couple days ahead of schedule.

And Scott was awe-struck to see Dave just run out like that. The programming screamed how wrong it was and urged him to drag him back here, but the programming also screamed at him to stay here on-site during working hours.

But most of all, his memories screamed that Dave was up to something disastrous. And this time, he would be at the receiving end of the catastrophe.

His programming faithfully corrected each and every one of the panicked swears he muttered as he paced back and forth.

Unable to calm down all the tension in his head, Scott looked for something to distract his mind from the impending dread. 

There. Something. That da-dang machine over there. 

It was always broken, and with no Dave to watch like a hawk right now, maybe finally fixing the poor thing would calm him down. Clearly no one else was going to do it so he might as well. He went to Parts and Service for a wrench.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A dream of being at his old Freddy’s job. 

It was disorienting. 

It probably wasn’t real.

Before long, he noticed a puppet standing there before him.

“I’ve never seen you before.”

“W-What do you want? What’s going on?”

“The five children. 

Ten years later and they still do not rest.”

“I… don’t understand.”

 But that felt like a lie after he said it.

“Gabriel. Fritz. Susie. Jeremy. Cassidy. 

They’re all still waiting for rest.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thursday, XX/21/93

Yesterday was strange. He’d had the strangest dream when he fell asleep against the machine he’d just fixed, and then he felt compelled to carry out even stranger errands for the puppet in that dream. But… it felt right to do it. Something about the robots seemed tame this morning.

-End WIP

#thanks so much for the ask! :D #dsaf #dayshift at freddy's #dsaf fanfic

[aces-drew]

Hi! I just wanted to drop in and say that I adore your two Nace fics so much to the point that I have probably reread them about 20 millions and if you ever want to write for them again I would be more than WILLING (and to tell my soul) to supply you with a slew of ideas because I have plenty <3 your writing is absolutely BEAUTIFUL!!!

hi anon, you have no idea how often i think of your ask and how much i've come back to it since you've written to me. i hope you're still around and still somewhat part of the nd fandom, and that the series finale was something you could enjoy and be satisfied w! truth be told i fell out of the fandom at the end of the third season, it was for a lot of reasons - personal and just the time passing, and with it also came half-baked word docs of nace fics i started but never really got around to finishing. and i never wanted to answer your high compliments with the answer of never considering to write for them again, and in all honesty i forgot my written drabbles in a folder on my laptop for the better part of the last two years. but i went through it on a whim today and actually found something i think is worth sharing, and since your message has stayed with me, i'm going to post it for you and you only, as both a thank you and im sorry i couldnt really give you more. writing for nace was one of my greatest joys in a truthfully very difficult time in my life, and im so glad it was as special for you as it was for me! so here's almost 5k of nace being in their pre-relationship, best friends in tension phase dated to the 21st of dec 2021 - it's certainly not my best work and may seem a bit half-baked, but there is so much love in it, and its happy and sad and hopeful all at once, and reading it again with fresher eyes, it would've been a shame for it to rot in my gdrive with no audience, so yeah thank you for reading this my dear anon. i hope you like it, take care!!

***

Ace let out a soft mumble of a curse under his breath.

‘Florence, this is not the time girl.’

The exasperation in his tone was refreshing to Nancy. Rarely was Ace ever off-centre; he was always the one who held down the fort, who grounded everyone, and especially her, to whatever it was they were working through at any given time. So the fact that car trouble was what got Ace ticking made her chuckle.

And among other things, she had to admit how adorable it was – his brows creased in annoyance, hands resting on his steering wheel, fingers drumming on the small surface in agitation. (Nancy tried to force herself to look away when her mind started to focus on how long and sturdy his fingers were in comparison to the lining of the steering wheel, ignoring the unnatural hike in her pulse).

Nancy observes his leg start to bounce restlessly in its place, his growing frustration rivalling Nancy’s ease. He looks at her through the rear-view mirror, sparkly blue eyes that seem to brace for her remark knowingly, ‘You’re not allowed to say I told you so.’

Nancy playfully clicks her tongue, ‘I told you so.’

He groans in response, but there’s only levity in his tone. When she looks at him amidst her unhelpful giggle, for the briefest of seconds, she sees a ghost of a smile on his lips.

‘Okay I’ve got Earnie on speed-dial, he should be here in like 45 minutes.’

He looks at her readily, waiting for her to take a jab at the fact that he’s on a first-name basis with the Horseshoe Bay’s finest mechanic and tower of cars, but she chooses not to indulge him.

With a small smile, she pulls out a pack of skittles and crinkles it open, offering him a hand-full of carelessly assorted yellow skittles in ceasefire. He looks at her in mocking question, ‘You think giving me my favourite colour of skittles is going to convince me into giving you a pass on the next 45 minutes where you tease me about this incessantly?’

Nancy smiles the brightest smile she can manage, teeth barred like a girl scout selling her cookies door to door, ‘Yep.’

He concedes, nonchalantly shaking his head and turning over the skittles from her hand to his, ‘You know me too well.’

(Nancy ignores the way he touches the pulse point on her wrist when he transfers the candy onto his own hand, how his fingers ever-so gently wrap around her entire wrist, electrifying the skin under his touch).

They sit there chewing in comfortable silence - on the candy as well as their thoughts; it had been a long day. They were heading back from another dead-end lead on de-tangling George’s soul from Odette’s, and though it had been a long shot, the sting of failure extinguishing the little hope that had slipped through to everyone in the group at the beginning of the day was subtly unrelenting. Nancy tried to keep the fear at bay, closing her eyes to refocus away from the painful pulses lightly throbbing at her temple. She couldn’t even think about reliving George’s death again, but the image of her bloodied body on the floor of the Claw re-emerges without permission, and along with it comes bile up Nancy’s throat.

In an attempt for comfort, she reminds herself of what George had to said to them when they regrouped at their cars to drive back to Horseshoe Bay, ‘I’m a fighter guys, and I live every day with intention, I’m happy and in love and I have no regrets. We’ll figure this out.’

She recalls George’s soft smile at Nick, her smirk at Bess when Addy asks for the two of them to carpool back alone together, her hugs for Nancy and Ace – she reminds herself how good it feels to relish in the warmth of her best friend. Taking a few deep breaths, Nancy wills for it to make her feel a bit better.

A gentle tap on her shoulder gets her to open her eyes again, and before she can turn to face Ace in question, she finds herself enamoured by the starry night sky looking down on her through the upper windshield. She wonders how she hadn’t yet noticed the glimmering specks of silver tattered against a canvas of cloudless navy blue, both beautifully and terrifyingly spanning the expanse of her entire eyeline, nestled between tall, dark oaks and pine trees on either side of the road they were currently grounded to.

‘You have to stop worrying about her, we’ll solve this too, we always do.’

That snaps her focus right back onto Ace, and she realises that despite the fairly long drive in darkness, the reason her attention had been obscured from the remarkable night sky was because it had been elsewhere, particularly on a concerning distraction that had been sat next to her this whole time.

She studies him, not rushing her response. She registers the way his lips have come into a fine line in resolve, starkly different to the smile lines that had lifted the plane of his cheeks just a few minutes ago, how the flecks of grey within his clear, sky-blue eyes zap like lightning, reflecting the twinkle of the stars above him – confident, persevering, determined. Her chest expands at how his expression still emanates warmth, a still of comfort when her mind is too convoluted to function, to find the gravity below her. Looking at him, she doesn’t necessarily blame herself for not noticing the night sky.

‘I hate that you can read me.’

She finds the grin in his eyes before his lips, ‘You have to stop being so predictable.’

She mock-scoffs at him, ‘Says the guy who knew his car was going to break down but was too stubborn to back down from subjecting it to a long road trip anyways.’

He takes his turn feigning hurt, ‘Touché.’ He chuckles, ‘Nancy – 1, Ace – 0.’

She sobers up at his still subtly insistent stare, he doesn’t want her to drop the subject just yet but he doesn’t ask again; his delicate push gets her primed enough to voice her thoughts, ‘I can’t watch her die again.’

She hates how her voice fails her, vulnerability and fear lulling her to a whisper, as if she’s afraid the universe will hear her. Ace responds with a shaky breath, returning to her gaze with the truths she’s been trying to convince herself with, ‘We’re trying our best. We’ll get there, and we’ll find what she needs.’

His eyes don’t waver from hers, ‘We can’t live in how her death is something we can’t avoid just yet, you heard what she said Nance, she’s living her best life day after day, and we owe it to her to do the same.’

He says his words with such conviction that Nancy lets out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding, (she tries not to melt at how his nickname for her drapes itself so softly on his tongue). ‘None of us will ever give up on her, on any of us.’

She lets out a small smile in understanding, a tear escaping to her cheek before she’s able to get a hold of her glossy eyes. For a spilt-second Nancy sees his fingers reach out for her, possibly to wipe the tear away, but he stops himself, and Nancy tries to ignore the way her stomach hollows out at his reluctance. Instead, he gives a genuine smile in return. 

Before the slight awkwardness can stew between the two of them, Ace speaks up softly, clearing his throat, ‘Alright, come on.’

He gestures to the trunk of the car as he gets out of the driver’s seat, and open’s the passenger door for her to follow him; she wordlessly steps out despite her confusion. The cold wind hits her skin immediately, passing through the soft sleeves of her sweater as if they weren’t even there. She hugs herself, tracing her hands up and down her upper arms to create some insulation.

Ace opens up the trunk and unzips a large duffel bag, pulling out three blankets and two cushion pillows. Taking the especially woolly chocolate and cream checkered throw, he swings it over Nancy’s back and gently swaddles her, ‘Better?’

‘Better.’ She responds, warmth immediately encapsulating her. Before she can ask why they’re outside his car in uncomfortably cold weather, he explains, ‘The stars are out tonight,’ he says looking up, ‘I thought we could kill some time while we wait for Earnie, and a distraction wouldn’t hurt the both of us. Two birds, one stone.’

Nancy follows his eye-line and stares at the sky, ‘Definitely.’

Within five minutes, he lays out the largest blanket he has onto the hood of Florence and sets down the two pillows for them. Forgetting the added weight of the throw, she grabs his hand to get onto the surface, and predictably, loses balance almost immediately, tripping to fall face first right onto Ace’s chest.

Before Nancy settles into how mortifying it is, Ace’s arms instinctually wrap around her waist and secure them in place, his chest reverberating the chuckle he adds to the night air.

Her shoulders loosen, and Ace looks down at her with a smirk, a glint of mischief within those blue eyes Nancy adores, ‘Comfortable?’

‘Shut up.’ Nancy groans, and Ace readily manoeuvres her waist to help her rest next to him, the two of them fully laughing now. (She ignores the way his fingers come into contact with some bare skin on her hips when it happens, a result of her sweater hiking and the blanket falling on top of the both of them when she fell; she tries not to focus on the imperceptible movement of his thumbs against her exposed skin).

As they recover from their laughing fit and Nancy settles more comfortably onto her cushion, shoulder to shoulder with Ace, they both find themselves looking up at the incredible vastness above them. Away from the other’s gaze, and suddenly incredibly aware of how small they were in this expanse of time and space, Nancy feels almost blindingly comfortable with Ace, willing to tell him anything if he asked.

Ace seems to get the same idea, ‘Okay, game time. I give you a story and you give me one in return, could be prompted by a question if either of us have something specific to ask, but otherwise it’s free rein.’

Nancy considers the proposition – she supposes it is dangerous territory, and that she would be tiptoeing between everything she wants to disclose and keep hidden, especially because she was already so comfortable leaving her heart at her sleeve with Ace, but ultimately the urge to get to know Ace better wins her over.

‘Okay,’ she agrees, slightly hesitant, ‘But you start, since you clearly have something in mind.’

She sees him nod in her periphery.

‘My mom used to take me star-gazing to help with my anxiety,’ Ace says, his eyes focused on the sky. ‘I couldn’t sleep after what happened with my dad, and there were a good few weeks where he was comatose in the hospital, and I couldn’t get that image of him out of my head every time I closed my eyes.’

‘I stayed up for like four days straight after the accident, hopped up on energy drinks and just gaming or coding night after night, getting by on twenty minute naps that would just happen because my body was so exhausted,’ he sighs, seemingly disappointed in his younger self, ‘It wasn’t long before my mom noticed the bags under my eyes and asked me to explain myself - I just broke down, told her how his limp body was all I could see if I let my mind rest for even a second. That’s when she invested in Florence, a seemingly temporary rental at the time,’ he chuckles fondly, ‘and every night my dad stayed in the hospital after that, she took me up to the bluffs so that we could see the stars as clear as they were in Maine.’

She imagines a young Ace, so scared of his father not coming home that he wills himself to become his own problem, shielding himself the only way he knows how, and finding himself unwilling to depend on anyone, even as a child. Even though the irony of how similar they are is not lost on her, it hollows out Nancy’s chest.

She can’t also help but find small comfort in the karmic coincidence that the bluffs were somehow similarly significant in both their lives – a place rooted in contentment equally as much as trauma. Nancy wonders why fate sometimes writes in intricately entwining strings so cruel when it comes to her.

‘She pointed out all the constellations, and eventually I learnt them too, and her explaining everything would send me to sleep. It was a lot easier to close my eyes to the stars instead of a dark ceiling, and she always said ‘It’s okay to be afraid, but when you are, just look up, and you’ll be reminded of how vast and complicated this universe is. And if you can believe in that, you can believe that things will work out for the best’. And that hope? That hope has weirdly never really left me, no matter what’s happened since then.’ He finishes.

Nancy can tell that his voice is thicker, and she doesn’t push to ask him why he thought she should know something so intrinsic about him. She breathes it in nevertheless, savouring a piece of his past that has been delicately placed in her hands, an olive branch for her to know him better.

She decides to take him up on it and share something that’s been kept in the dustiest shelves of her own heart, ‘That day the Aglaeca came to claim us, I actually fell off the bluffs.’

Nancy feels him turn his face to her in surprise, the only thing she’d told them was that she’d almost tripped over - she’d never considered talking about the truth till now; she pushes on, talking at the stars, ‘I kept screaming for help, but obviously nobody came. I was meant to die there, just like my mother, and for a second, before my survival instinct kicked in, I almost let go… almost wanted to let go,’ she feels her voice wobble, unable to carry the weight of her words, ‘I felt my own weight on my fingers, felt them give, and I was so tired, so I almost let go… instead of choosing to try and climb up.’

She had never admitted that to anybody, least of all herself, but it felt liberating to do so, to be overwhelmed in how enormous all her trauma seemed at the time, ‘I think it’s because I’d felt helpless for a long time, I didn’t know how to be somebody that other people couldn’t depend on, and I couldn’t get the conversation, or fight, we all had out of my head,’ she adds quickly, with a hollow, humourless chuckle, ‘but I did, I did climb up, and when I looked over at the sea, sitting there, all alone, I wasn’t necessarily glad that I had. I still felt empty, even when I knew we survived.’

Verbalising the last admission felt like a tonne of bricks on her shoulders, but it all came out in a few short breaths – like domino after domino falling in a way she couldn’t really stop once it started. She’d felt so small in the face of everything she’d been through, and even though she knew that life is always the right choice, and she’s convicted of that that definitively now more than any other time in her life, it wasn’t something that came intuitively to her that day. Her introspection is cut short when she realises that Ace has fully turned to face her now, and she struggles finding the courage to look at him.

When she does, the pain in his glassy eyes knocks the wind out of her, ‘Nance, I-I-, shit. I’m so fucking sorry Nancy.’

His voice breaks, faltering as he sits upright with his apology. She follows, sitting up cross-legged next to him, ‘Hey, hey,’ she insists, resting her arm on his bicep, willing him to look at her, ‘I wasn’t done… You know what helped me through that? What made me realise that it had obviously been the right choice?’

Ace’s stormy blue eyes look back at her, and he seems to recognise her desperation for levity, ‘Therapy?’

They both chuckle, cutting through a little bit of the tension, ‘Yes, of course therapy,’ she agrees, ‘but unlike therapy, this isn’t something I’ve had since I was eight.’

She takes a deep breath, hoping her persistent eye contact conveys the principle she that she grounds herself to, ‘It was all of you. Seeing you that day when I walked into the Claw that night? With Bess, and Nick and George? With your relieved smiles, and hugs that were insistent on making sure I knew how glad you all were that I was alive? That’s what rushed all that relief into my body. For a spilt second, the Aglaeca highlighted all of my trauma so that I couldn’t see through to the love I was given, and yes, it didn’t help that we were our worst selves that day, fuelled by fear and regret, but when I’d gotten back into my car and drove back to the Claw, I knew. I-’ she drew another breath, trying to gain coherence; there was so much she had to say about that night, so much she’d packed away into a tiny little box in her mind, ‘when I walked in that night, I knew that I’d made the right call, that from then on, whatever near-death experience I was going to get catapulted into, I would always choose to stick around.’

She could feel her throat closing up a little, her voice thickening, ‘The love that I’ve gotten from all of you, and now even Ryan, has changed my life, and it has forever changed the trajectory of who I am, and I whoever I’ll be, and that’s something I’m only grateful for. I know I don’t tell you all that enough, but seriously, I am so, so grateful.’

The tears fall down Ace’s cheeks freely now, and in the vortex of them under a beautiful night sky with their hearts strung out in the open and them alone in between the woods, his reservations seem to lower just enough. His other hand comes over the hand of hers that’s still resting on his bicep, and he intertwines his fingers with hers, a soft whisper following, ‘Still, I’m sorry, what we said was really fucked up, there really isn’t an excuse for it. We all made the decisions that got us to being prophesied to die that night, and it wasn’t you. Nance, you didn’t bring us to our deaths like lambs to slaughter, it was on us, we chose to be there.’

It’s his turn to pierce right through to her heart through his gaze, conviction steady in his words, ‘You are not a cause, and you are not an omen. You are anything but that. And honestly Nancy, I don’t even fucking know what I’d do with myself if we lost you that night.’

Nancy feels relieved in a weird way, the vindication is anything but hollow and ingenuine, it feels good. She laughs lightly, trying to mask a little bit of the subtle discomfort she feels; she knows the sentiment would be undeniably the same the other way around (except Nancy knows that’s partly also because she can’t really comprehend the enormity of what Ace means to her, how he was somehow so much more than a friend), the heaviness in his tone makes the implications of the statement much more intimate that she’s ready to decrypt. ‘Well at least George wouldn’t have died.’

And there it comes, that exasperated ‘Nancy, using humour to cope with your trauma is not funny’ face comfortably settling on Ace’s expression before she’s even done with her sentence. She chooses to laugh it off again (and pretends not to notice how Ace’s fingers tighten around hers perceptibly more).

Neither of them lets go of the other’s hand, and Nancy eventually lays back down on her cushion, with Ace following suite, ‘Okay on a lighter note,’ she refreshes, ‘where do you see yourself in 10 years?’

He hums in thought, ‘Uh, I don’t really know, haven’t thought much about it really.’

There’s an awkward hitch to his voice, and Nancy knows he’s picked up on her picking up on it, and he concedes into a slightly more nuanced response, ‘I’d like to have the standard stuff y’know?’

She looks at him pointedly, ‘The standard stuff?’

He avoids her gaze, ‘Yeah, the standard stuff. I’d like to be in love, and if I’m lucky, possibly even married. And yeah, eventually something like two kids, a white picket fence, y’know, the whole thing.’

The response surprises Nancy for some reason; it’s such an open admission of domesticity, and she unintentionally pictures herself with him in his ideal.

‘You think it’s dumb.’

She’s frayed from her thoughts, and registers that she’d been quietly daydreaming for embarrassingly longer than acceptable, and that Ace perceived it as the opposite of what she was currently thinking.

‘What?’ Nancy tries to steady her heart beating frantically in her chest, the enormity of mapping her entire future with Ace now settling swiftly on her shoulders.

‘Oh my god, you totally think it’s dumb.’

Nancy tries to think through what feels like her brain is melting, ‘I do not think it’s stupid Ace, come on. It’s endearing!’

He looks at her unconvinced. She tries to centre herself, refocusing from the image of two toddlers with his wonderful hair and her fiery eyes, she looks up and away from him again, ‘I’ve always wanted at least two kids too, I never had any siblings, and I’ve always thought that companionship is really important when you’re young. A boy and a girl… would be nice to have someday.’

When she meets his gaze, there’s something indecipherable about them. She tries to not to let how intensely he’s looking at her waver her in staring back at him (but it’s hard, she feels her stomach jump to her throat).  

The finally, he speaks, ‘At least two huh? Never pegged Nancy Drew for the big house, big family type.’

There’s a hint of an endearing tease that laces his tone, and she knows it’s meant to annoy her; she chooses instead to be honest, ‘Yeah, actually.’

A small smile of satisfaction finds her lips as Ace’s eyes widen for just a second, ‘You’re not the only one who wants the standard stuff y’know,’ she says, imitating the tone he’d used, ‘I would also really like to be in love, married even, and settle down. Maybe here, maybe somewhere else. Either way, I definitely do want a legacy. And what better legacy to leave than to love the people you love, maybe even slip into a life with that one special person I love and work to be with, and hopefully they’re a best friend and someone I completely depend on, and I’ll get to create a family with them someday.’

She places intentionality in her last sentence, letting Ace know that maybe this person she hopes to have all that with isn’t some far away concept, but the wonderful friend and companion she’s been able to completely trust and depend on these last few months. His eyes seem to darken as he processes her words, blue pushed to the edges of his irises; she gets the feeling that he might’ve picked up on the implication.

There was no doubt that they’d been recently tip-toeing around what their friendship was evolving into; between Nancy recovering from the Wraith, Ace getting kicked out and Amanda breaking up with him, they’d both changed into such different people in just a few weeks.  They’d both seemed to realise that though their entire worlds had shifted axes, the two of them were the same – they were Nancy and Ace, detective and hacker, a mind racing a hundred miles per hour paired with a rational, calm decision maker, a comet free orbiting in space and the sun’s gravity that grounded it, two best friends. They were comfortable here, safe in the boundaries of their friendship that was a little more than friendship, in confessions through glances and grazes, where the fear of having to figure out how they fit with each other, who they were and what they wanted was too scary for them to consider. For now, the implication was enough.

‘Yeah,’ Ace seemed to agree, his voice a little dreamy, ‘someday.’

#nace #nancy drew cw #nancy drew x ace hardy #nancy drew #user:alexjatp #cwnd #nancy x ace #ace hardy

[inheroes--wetrust]

ok this is based on first read only so it might get crazy but there is no fucking way that kiriona is gideon. evidence below anyone please feel free to discuss i am FERAL over here

(EDIT: no fucking way that kiriona is *full gideon. i am now fully in camp "kiriona is gideon with some very very key pieces missing like oh i dont know her love and humanity")

1) during the broadcast and in the book, it's made very clear that gideon's body is dead. she's described as waxy like naberius (who we all know is dead as a doornail). if it's gideon's body and gideon's soul, they should snap back together no issues. palamedes seems to think that just bringing nona close to gideon's body would draw her soul out and gideon would be whole again, and palamedes is the smartest necromancer of his generation (love you bb). there's a soul piloting a body here. they aren't cohesive.

2) tamsyn said in a recent interview (https://books.tumblr.com/post/693388542787846144/writer-spotlight-tamsyn-muir-tamsyn-muir-probably) there is a pecking order to POV characters. paraphrasing here, but she said that if possible, gideon is first and foremost the POV character. we obviously see this in HtN - gideon is narrating the mithraeum chapters of the book, and as soon as she comes to the surface, she is the POV character. when they first came into contact with gideon's walking and talking corpse, i half expected POV to switch to gideon, but we never got that.

3) a fucking FRIENDSHIP BRACELET? with IANTHE???? hell fucking no. what in the world. why would they even put that there? it makes absolutely zero sense, there's no point to it other than for nona to point out they're working together. chekhov's friendship bracelet. maybe ianthe is controlling gideon's corpse somehow? i have no idea it's four in the morning.

4) the way she interacts with everyone but especially the sixth house. you expect me to believe that gideon nav sees a dying cam for the first time since her sacrifice and is just like oh hey cam looks like you're dying soon? absolutely not. the sex pal thing was also aggressive. very "hey palamedes remember that thing we did together who else would know i called you sex pal once". iirc, she never actually called him that - she was just pointing out a fun gideon fact.

5) she doesn't care about harrow. gideon cares EXCLUSIVELY about harrow. gideon "it was not my thumb to let them bite off" sees alecto piloting harrow's body and just says sure i'm going to let that happen? not in ten thousand years.

this obviously leaves a million questions starting with 1) who is kiriona and 2) WHERE IS GIDEON but these are 100% two different souls. tamsyn i need alecto now please and thank you.

EDIT: More evidence on the second reread.

6) when cam and nona-as-harrow go to see ianthe, ianthe says, "How are you surviving, Harrowhark the First? How can you stand beneath the light of Number Seven? Unless I am addressing..." and then nona screams, there's a general panic, and ianthe is like FINE OKAY FUCKING RELAX and tells nona she's coming back to the emperor with her. lyctors can survive an RB when their cavs are at the forefront. harrow's cav is gideon. and pre-NtN, harrow had a lobotomy that caused her to have a breakdown at the sound of gideon's name. what else would she have been saying other than "Unless I am addressing Gideon Nav", which should make no sense considering ianthe knows full well that kiriona exists. unless of course kiriona is not gideon or at least not gideon all the way.

7) https://www.tor.com/2022/09/13/tamsyn-muir-on-lyctorhood-as-genderfuckery-and-greasy-bible-study-in-nona-the-ninth/ new interview by tamsyn for the nona release. the last question strongly hints that gideon's body and gideon's soul - or at least not all of it - are not in the same place, and at least some of it is still with harrow.

8) pyrrha says john shouldn't have been able to pull gideon's soul all the way back to put her back in her body. she explicitly says that harrow still has a piece of gideon and john could not have gotten it back, AND that john should have been able to do better. he resurrects. that's LITERALLY his thing. he should have been able to bring gideon back perfectly, but he didn't. why?

9) get in line, thou big slut. on first glance, this is gideon nav to a t. i love her so much. however. i find it SUPER interesting that slut, which has (to my knowledge) never been used in the previous two books, is used twice in NtN both by ianthe - once about the original lyctors, once about corona. idk what it was about it, but the use of it three times in the book, when previous insults have been along the lines of "you mutant, you mistake, you great big calf-eyed fuck-up" just struck me a little. iffy. this one is definitely more out there but the use of slut in the book just stood out to me for some reason (a sentence you can only type when talking about the locked tomb).

upon further review i have decided that kiriona and gideon are definitely not 100% the same soul, but kiriona could have a piece of gideon's soul, because a lot of the ninth house stuff is very gideon, especially with crux. i still want alecto now.

#nona the ninth spoilers #ntn spoilers #nona spoilers #the locked tomb spoilers #nona the ninth #the locked tomb #gideon nav

[thisuserislilsilly]

Ah yes, this tale was told to me by a very strange fellow, he came to my Tavern all covered in snow and shaking uncontrollably. I barely could get this story out of his frozen lips and my retelling may be a bit off to be totally fair. Despite all this I present to you with the tale named:

The cold does not wait

The workers leaned all of what their bodies allowed them to the edge of the ship, seeing the generator and their place of work for weeks grow smaller as they sailed away. The only person aboard said ship who wasn't facing the horizon was who the workers had called "Boss" or "Captain". This tall, lean, fragile man was on his personal quarters, sitting down in the only wooden chair of the room staring at the report of the working site he had been in charge of:

29 dead workers.

56 dead engineers.

It wasn't just a number in a paper either, it was a list of names, a unending insufferable list that it grew larger on the Captain mind as he reread every single name, carving into his very soul every possible scenario where their lives were extinguished. The lamp casted a shadow in his shaven head, sweat sparked in the presence of that source of light. The room was eerily silent, devoid off any kind of victory, of celebrations, of satisfaction for having done the job on time; it was a ironic contrast with the awe and booze and cheers on the main deck, the workers were drinking until their bellies stopped them, eating until their guts spit out every ounce of food consumed.

Once more, the Captain sighed and let the paper fall to the ground, lost in his own mind, zoned out to the days where he had to stand before a crowd of human beings and proclaim what part of their lives would change next: their food diet, their working conditions, their commodities...their rights.

The sound of the wind and the waves made the man open the door to his chambers, feeling the salty chill air fill his lungs and cleanse his mind from the memories, he walked towards the side and saw the last rays of sunshine vanish from his vision, he could feel the cold creeping through his very bones. Thee workers shushed their celebrations as they saw him, guilty eyes glanced the man up and down, there was no point in discussing or accusing anyone for what had happened. No more words to exchange, just hope the trip back to London wasn't too long.

"Sir" A engineer walked to the man and whispered

"Yes?"

"I was just checkin' if ya' was fine" The thick English accent was accentuated in every word

"Thank you. I am fine."

"I'm...I just wanted to-" The other stuttered

"Don't-" The Captain whispered, looking down.

"Yer' right, sir" The engineer looked at the ground as well, the silence growing louder in between them

After hours of voyage, the horn of the ship blasted the eardrums of all its passengers. Slowly and steady one by one eery man aboard touched the earth once again, the wind blew on the back of their heads making more than a few workers shiver and have goosebumps. The cold had followed them, like the ghost of their labor haunting them with the particular sin of each worker.

The company gave hem a day off to rest, go to their families and recover their strengths and spirits; none of them knew that they would be the first evacuated with their families to the "New" cities of the future, those that would be the last strongholds of humanity. Only the Captain knew this, but just moments after he was escorted to his new temporal residence someone knocked on his door.

He opened it, just a few inches to reveal a woman in a suit with a top hat and a small bag in her hands.

"Hello sir" She smiled.

"Who are you?" The Captain opened his eyes widely as he stared at the woman

"I'm the representer of the Imperial Exploration Company-"

"I did my part, leave me be" The Captain interrupted her before she could get one more word in

"Yes you did, quite poorly might I add, but I am not here to judge your methods or results." She paused and collected herself "I am here to inform you that the British Empire has taken notice of your administration capabilities and has paired you with the most intellectual and proficients members of Cambridge and Oxford"

"So...?" The man felt a sudden turmoil in his stomach, guessing what the representative was going to say next

"It means that your family will be transported to the protected by the military Winterhome...but you will be to oversee the arks of seeds for the future"

"In other words-"

"Your service to the Queen hasn't finished yet." The representative gave a small grin and a little bow.

"How long until they are ready to depart?"

"Tonight" She concluded

"But the workers leave in two days..."

The cold gaze from the representative gave him more answers than the Captain wished to know.

Without another word the woman turned around and disappeared in the crowd of people on the streets. The only thing the Captain could do was to empty his anger by throwing the chair unto the wall, shattering into pieces. He fell to his knees, trying to process what had happened, he had to leave his wife and children behind...the only ones he had left.

The Earth had to be green again, whatever the cost it may be.

#frostpunk #fanfiction #Spotify

[seriouslysam8]

I just got into an argument with someone on Reddit because I didn’t support Harmony… my question was simple did you read the books? She said yes. Then when I suggested that she probably didn’t know how to comprehend what she read… well they just set her off. Was I wrong, Sam? Which idiot reads the hp series and thinks “omg harmony are soul mates”?? Like did your mother drop you on your head? Is that why you can’t comprehend what’s in front of you? Did you read between the lines and think with that peanut sized brain of yours? Or did you rely on WB producers who never read the book to sway your pea brain? Did you read the part where Harry and Hermione barley spoke when Ron wasn’t there in DH? Did you read the part where Harry followed Ginny’s name on the marauders map? Did you read about the part where Harry thought of GINNY’S blazing look before he sacrificed himself? Want to know what her rebuttal was? “We’ll what about the dancing scene”… I wasn’t sure if I should reach into my computer screen and slap her or hit my head against the wall. I tolerated Hermione, but thanks to these Hermione or Harmony shippers I. HATE. HER!

As much as I love the movies and rewatch them way more than I reread the books because TIME, there are so many things I loath about the movies.

I know people are all blah! The tv show will suck! I am excited for it. If they’re true to the books, then we’ll get more Hinny, better Weasley representation, and Hermione’s flaws actually on display.

One of the things I hate is the dance scene. Because in the books, Harry is legit grumpy and just staring at Ginny’s dot and Hermione is off sobbing by herself (probably grating on Harry’s nerves) and they’re both fucking miserable. I want miserable Harry and Hermione in DH when Ron leaves.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, there are so many more amazing female characters in the series that are more relatable than Hermione. I don’t understand why people love her so much.

[rainbowstargazerlilies]

Hi! It’s you, surprise!

Anyway, I’m so mentally ill over “the stars claim them” a d I love it I love it I love it. Ever now and then I’ll think to myself “hey, what’s a good fic to read?” And every time it’s yours.

It’s just like [image of cat eating a box] and just so good. It honestly might get printed out and bound into an irl book just so that I can actually bite it.

(I am working so hard not to get off topic)

I don’t think I’ve ever found it harder to explain my love for something with actual words. Your writing alone is incredible. I think I’ve already said this in a comment but I am constantly on the edge of my seat waiting to see what you do next, and you write all of the character so well.

Never before have I wanted this much to reach into a fan-fictional world and scoop out an oc with my hands and just hold them like a tiny little kitten. (Technically accidentally did that with a character anyway but ah well)

Plot aside, because I’m already talking characters, I love the cast you’ve chosen so so so so so so much, I love the diversity and headcanons. And I especially love the dynamics and interactions with each other. And the parallels, oh my goo the parallels in character pairings that pop up occasionally. (Lyf and Micheal, Tim and Grifter’s Bone guy (his name evades me), even just the whole vampire Gerry thing)

Which reminds me, you’ve managed to have at least one reference to wtnv in every book so far, is this deliberate or just art?

Okay, I could talk characters all day so let’s move onto plot now and I’ll ramble about individuals later. 300+ (or something) chapter slow burn my beloved. And then everything just tumbling around around it is just wonderful.

Lyf was just out here trying to live their best life and then things just kept happening to them over and over and over and over again, first the prisoners, then the train, then the prisoners again, then the void, then space, then Nastya, then death, then earth, then the spooks, then the mechs, then the spooks, then the mechs, then the circus, then the mechs, then probably some more spooks, then [see last three lines].

Poor inspector is in the washing machine of happenings.

And of course, gotta adopt a family along the way because, as Batman has shown us, the best way to recover from your whole family dying is to just adopt more.

And the whole chaos avatar screwing with all the other fear’s shticks is an incredible concept and I adore it. I also find it beautifully hilarious. Do you think Lyf could just rainbow people like they did Gerry to help them escape their entity? Instead of like, eye stabbing?

And the fact Lyf sees the fears in colours and one of the first people they meet in Gerry, who originally referred to them as colours in the show, is just fabulous. And then Lyf being all the colours is also marvellous.

(I feel like I’ve been going too long, am I going too long?)

There’s just so many little plot points that I adore that I can’t remember them all at once let alone put them in words so maybe I’ll just doom spam ask you a live rereading so that I get all the bits.

This story is my soul, my life, I am empty without it. Anyway, off to go read it again probably.

Thank you for writing, I love it so much.

!!!!!!!

Thank you so much! I've really loved writing this story, and seeing other people enjoying it to similar levels is beautiful. And no worries about getting off topic or going too long-- I've written this story for over a year. If anyone's going too long here . . .

But anyway. Let's chat!

If you (or anyone else!) ever get this story printed out and bound, I would love to see it <3

I'm so glad you enjoy the writing and characters, too! I personally love my characters and try to let them guide the story as much as possible, so hearing that I write them well is fantastic. So. Thanks!

(And I get the feeling. I've literally made tiny knit dolls for some of my OCs along with my TMA and Mechs ones. Brenn and Juniper my darlings, for instance. And my Lyf, of course. That doll has now crossed so many state lines because I keep bringing them on road trips and the like with me. . .)

Character parallels too. . . yeah, there's a lot that can be said about the way characters parallel and interact and misunderstand each other, and I love writing them doing that. It's fun to consider, and I love it :)

The washing machine of happenings. . . yeah, that sounds about right :D

Heh, adopting a new family to cope with losing one is certainly a way to put it! Not sure how well that works, for Lyf or for Batman, particularly when said New Family also gets into danger, but. . . yep!

Could Lyf just rainbow people to help them escape from an entity? Likely! It would hurt a LOT, though, and it'd probably end up having consequences, you know? Whether it's that the person in question becomes a chaos magnet, or whether they'd be able to break reality too. . . yeah, that's an interesting one to ponder.

I love that, yep!

I'd love to see your thoughts if you do that, whether it's on here or on Ao3! Like I said, I've been writing this for more than a year now, and I really do love talking to people about it.

Thank you for sharing your thoughts like this, and I hope you continue to enjoy the story! We've got some fun times ahead. . .

#hello hello to the ask box #luckybyrdrobyn #the stars claim them