#and every once in a while having mental breakdowns and having to learn the same lesson (surrender and humility) a bajillion times

[canthelpit0]

Cry Baby

Pairing: Matt x crybaby!popular!reader

Wordcount : 3.3K+

Summary: you were popular. The jester of the group. But atleast it was something. Nobody knew just how much you’d been struggling, until your secrets were exposed in the school cafeteria.

Warnings: swearing, angst, crying, mentioned of depression, Matt’s PoV, sensitive!reader, mentions of SH, SH mocking, humiliation, exposing secrets, fake friends, hurt/comfort, pet names (baby), use of y/n

(A/N: I wrote this based of this song. Bcs I was listening to it and had this scenario in my head, so I wrote it down.)

You had always been a bit of a crybaby.

You’re the oldest sibling. Your mother thought she couldn’t have any children, but she had. You were a blessing to her.

So after you were born you were never put down. Someone was always with you. To keep you from crying, entertaining you. Caving to your needs.

But once you got to kindergarten, it seemed that all those times your parents hushed you and made sure you didn’t cry had bottled up.

You didn’t speak a lot. You didn’t like socializing with people. You kept to yourself and that’s how you liked it.

You had severe attachment issues to your mom though. Because of her always being with you to soothe you, her not being there seemed like a nightmare.

So when she dropped you off at kindergarden, every day, you would cry, begging your mom to stay.

Eventually you got used to it, but you quickly found a friend to cling to.

Emma, was your one and only friend. The only person you talked to.

It was pretty much the same in elementary school. You’d trod around and talk to people. You were a bubbly social kid.

But you were also easy to break.

You didn’t have a lot of friends. All friends you had were only people you’d hang around in recess.

Emma stuck with you though.

Until, middle school.

In middle school you’d, for some reason, fallen into a depressive mindset.

Emma and you were in your awkward middle school phases. And in that time she’d become really rude.

And one day during a fight she told you how much she hated listening to your sobs.

You’d been vulnerable around her. You had trusted her.

And she’d broken that trust. By telling you that every time you had seeked her comfort she actually didn’t want to give it to you.

Your heart’s too big for your body.

You two stopped talking after that day. Until four months later Emma apologized for her words. You, being an empath, excepted the apology and went back to being friends with her.

Little did she know that her words rang through your head while you cut yourself.

A few months after you became friend again, she moved. She moved out of the country. You never saw her again.

So for high school you had taken it spoon yourself to mask your depression and ‘get over yourself’.

You started to dress more basic, learning to do your make up, hair, skincare. And basically everything to hide your miserable state the best you could.

Somehow it worked.

You had good facial proportions, and just a little bit of work you looked like a basic mean girl who is full of herself. But that was exactly the point.

Somehow, once High school started, you managed to get into the clique of the popular girls.

You were always so upbeat, cheery and talkative. No one could ever guess that you’re the most depressive mother fucker in a 50 mile radius.

Though as much as you would like the power of being the leader of the group, you were not. You were more like the jester of the group than anything.

You had held your mental breakdowns to a minimum. Holding back as much as you could. You only had Few panic attacks nowadays. And if you had one in school, you always had a touch up make up bag there.

Now it was senior year. You got ready like usual, not knowing that today would alter your life and the way people perceive you.

Matt’s PoV

I watch in horror.

Y/n is one of the popular girls in our school.

I’m not too popular. But I’m well known, all due to the fact that I’m a triplet. And due to the fact that Nick and Chris are really extroverted people.

Both of them are currently not with me.

Chris is sick at home. While Nick is in the library with some of our female friends.

I sit at my table with the lacrosse team around Me.

The entire cafeteria has their eyes focused on y/n.

She was arguably the prettiest out of all the popular girls.

But right now she was crying, Biting her lip. Her head tilted forward in shame at the claims her group was throwing at her.

The leader of the popular girls, Kelly, was accusing y/n of stealing her boyfriend at first, yelling right in her face. She yelled right back at Kelly though, not scared to stand up for herself.

But Kelly being the leader of the group, all the other girls sided with her.

I never understood why people would talk, or would argue, about stuff like this in public places. It was humiliating.

I was getting second hand embarrassment just watching.

The insults were getting more and more personal by the second.

Nobody was doing anything, captivated by the scene unfolding in front of them. Some people have their phones out filming for, ..who knows what reason.

I drown out most of the insults-

“IS THAT WHY YOU FUCKING CUT YOURSELF?” Kelly yells right back in y/n’s face.

The cafeteria had already been quiet. But with those words even the quiet conversations stopped. It seemed like everyone’s attention snapped back to the scene.

It was the passerby effect in full force. No one was doing anything, too shocked. Not even the teachers that were present said anything.

It was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

My ear start ringing, my eyes staying glued on y/n.

To me, it was obvious that something about y/n was off. She was polished to perfection. To a concerning degree. Nobody was that perfect.

So the revelation didn’t necessarily shock me. But the fact that Kelly was heartless enough to air y/n’s business out like that.

“I don’t.” Y/n’s words cut harshly through the quiet cafeteria. Her words are insistent like she was telling the truth.

She was a great liar, yet everyone would believe Kelly over her. Even if it was a lie.

“Oh but you do.” Kelly scoffs looking at the people y/n used to call friends. They all nod at Kelly’s statement.

“You have those scars all over your wrists.” Kelly points out nodding down to y/n’s wrists.

It’s like everyone takes a collective look down at her arms to see if something is actually there.

Me being so far away from their table I can’t see it clearly. But I really don’t want to anyway.

I watch as Y/n lets her head fall forward letting out a small laugh, shocking everyone in the cafeteria including me.

Y/n’s hands are trembling and shaking. She purses her lips looking back up at Kelly who looks at her with superiority.

Y/n picks her head back up and leans her head up to readjust her hair. Her hands ball into fists before she crosses her arms, trying to keep her composure.

Even from being a few tables away from the scene i can clearly see the tears running down her cheeks.

She huffs a laugh through a sob.

“Some friends you fucking are” she says harshly her glare focused on the girls around Kelly that she used to call friends.

The cafeteria is silent again for a moment the only thing heard being y/n’s soft sniffles

“Crybaby” one of the girls huffs under her breath, but its loud and clear in the silent cafeteria.

“Fuck you Rebecca.” I hear y/n’s voice snap at the girl. Despite crying her tone was still sharp.

“What’re you gonna do about it, gonna go home and cut yourself some more?” Another one of the girls in the group scoffs.

Y/n lets out another miserable chuckle hearing the comment.

I purse my lips remaining seated. I probably look miserable right now. I don’t want to be watching this. Hell I would like to stop this, but I can’t.

Before y/n can fire back though more and more comments from all the girls pore out. And the more: “you gonna kill yourself?” “you gonna cut yourself?” remarks they make the more humiliated y/n looks.

By the end of their relentless comments and bullying y/n is crying sobbing. And as someone with anxiety I can see the inevitable anxiety attack, in the way her entire body shakes.

With a strong “fuck you all” to her former friends y/n turns in her heels and leaves.

The cafeteria is quiet for a moment before the room breaks out in conversation, everyone gossiping about the scene they just witnessed. Debating how much of what was said was true.

I feel sick to my stomach knowing I had watched a girl just get torn down by her own, so called friends, like that, and didn’t do anything.

I mumble an excuse to my friends leaving the table. They don’t even seem to care emerged in their own conversations about the ‘gossip’.

I speed walk out of the cafeteria to find y/n.

There are only two places I can think of her being at. The girls bathroom, wich is probably not the case since she looked like she wanted to get as far away as possible,

Or her car.

She’d parked next to my van today. So I run out of the school to my car, to see hers still parked next to mine. I glance into it and she’s not in the drivers seat.

I get closer, catching my breath. I look through the window of the backseat seeing her sitting there curled up in on herself.

I knock on the car window catching her attention. Y/n’s beautiful teary eyes meet mine through the tinted glass.

She presses on a button on her car keys, the car unlocking.

Immediately I open the car door and slide in. My gaze soft as I look at the hyperventilating girl in front of me.

I close the door behind me. I gently take the car keys out of her hands. She was clinging to it like her life depended on it. I lock the car again and then lean to the front of the car and toss her keys on the drivers seat.

I turn back to y/n, she had her legs up to her chest hugging them while she continues to sob.

“Matt” she breaths out my name so tenderly.

We weren’t friends. But we shared one class in which we partnered up sometimes.

“Sh, you’re okay y/n” I breathe out. In an instant, my arms wrap around her smaller frame pulling her into me. I hug her from the side, her sobs wracking her body.

“No, no it’s not okay.” She lets out an irritated sigh, her breath hitching as a sobs Tores through her body again. “I just lost all my friends.”

I purse my lips holding her head. I cradle her into my chest. She didn’t deserve to have her stuff aired out like that, but all she was worried about was loosing her fake ass friends?

“Oh baby.” I sigh out. The nickname slips through my lips so effortlessly I didn’t even notice.

I keep her head cradled into my chest while I feel tears start to form in my own eyes.

“They ruined it.” She chokes out again, her voice shaky.

I breathe in heavily. “They ruined what?” I ask gently.

“My reputation”

I pause. My lips quiver at the sound of her cries. I try to blink away my own tears.

“That’s all you care about?” The words leave my lips before they register. I know she cares about all the things others say to her. She just seems like the type to.

“Matt, I spend so much time,” she sobs through the few words she said. Pausing to cry some more at the thought of it. “So, so much time, perfecting myself.”

I hear her pause again, and by this point I can’t hold back my own tears. I let out a soft sob crying with her as I hold her even closer to myself.

“I didn’t want anyone to know. It’s none of their business” her words are soft. But the more she talks the more quiet she gets.

In a way she was like me. Masking her sorrow like that. She always just seemed too perfect to be true.

Perfect hair, perfect makeup, perfect face. Great humor, nice, kind, popular.

But nobody ever questioned it. She had everyone fooled. She was a great liar. And even though I had my suspicions she never gave me a reason to believe I was right.

I just thought I was delusional for reading into things.

But I was right.

As much as I wish I wasn’t.

“I’m so sorry.” I whisper. I try to breathe hard as to not sob like she was. I wanted to comfort her not cry with her.

She pulls away slightly. I look at her. She still has tears running down her cheeks, not looking like it’d stop soon. She looks up at me through her tear stained lashes, her mascara only slightly smudged.

Her lips quivers as I see another wave of sadness wash over her. “Why are you crying?” She asks her voice shaky. She lets out another choked sob.

Her hands cup my cheeks as we both cry looking at the other. “Please don’t cry,” the sight of my tears only seems to make her more sad.

But seeing the way she looked crying, I only wanted to cry harder.

She still looked perfect. Though her makeup was smudged slightly, her hair messy, her perfect features stained with her tears.

I gently grab her wrists slowly pulling her hands off of my face. I pull up the sleeve of her longs sleeved shirt and flip her arm to look at her wrist.

My gut clenches at the sight of the tiny white healed marks. They were barely noticeable anymore.

I had noticed them before when we had partnered up for some project. But out of respect I didn’t say anything. Besides they weren’t that bad, thin, white stripes messily across her wrist.

For all I knew it could’ve been her cat. I don’t have a cat, and neither have I seen self harm cuts before, so I wouldn’t know the difference.

I purse my lips. I let my head fall forward slightly my eyes closed. I feel sick to my stomach knowing someone as perfect as y/n was, or had been cutting herself at some point.

I hear a choked sob fall from her lips. I feel her intense stare burn through my scalp.

I pick up my head again, my eyes immediately looking to hers. She was crying again. Making me also shed a few tears again.

I bring her wrist up to my face leaving a gentle peck on it.

She watches me. The sight only making her cry more. She closes her eyes briefly.

It wasn’t like she’d expected me out of all people to shame her for her scars. But she also hadn’t expected him to just kiss them.

“You didn’t deserve that sweetheart.” I whisper under my breath. I pull her back in leaving a firm kiss on her forehead before cradling her head back into my chest.

She breaks out into sobs again her arms going under mine and hugging me tightly.

She was clinging to me tightly, her sobs wrecking her body, and also making me cry.

I gently pat down her hair,as she keeps crying, trying to soothe both of us.

“Y/n.” She pulls back slightly, her arm still wrapped around me. “Do you still..” I trail off not wanting to say it. Because if I say it, it’ll be too true.

Her lip quivers as I see her glossy eyes shed tears again. She lets out a gut wrenching sob again pressing her face into my chest again, mumbling “I’m sorry”s over and over again.

I sigh sympathetically, rubbing her scalp. I knew from experience, that after crying so much, your head would hurt so bad. And even though she was still crying I wanted to soothe her.

“Honey.” I say gently pulling her away from me. Our eyes meet briefly before she looks down in shame. I gently grab her cheek again making her look back up at me.

“Where do you cut?” I ask softly. I grimace at the words leaving my lips. I calmed down not crying anymore, but my eyes staying glassy.

Her eyebrows are scrunched together as she slightly pouts. Her eyes were still glassy, threatening to break out in sobs again.

“I don’t do it often..” she whispers under her breath, trying to over herself. Her eyes close briefly shame written all other her face.

“Where.” My tone is still low, but more firm, demanding an answer.

“My thigh.” She lets one of her Chanda fall from around me resting her hand on her very upper right thigh.

My eyes soften even further. My tears had dried in my face by now, but I felt just about ready to cry again.

I shift slightly. Her hand that had still been around me going to the bottom of my shirt and keeping a firm grip on the fabric.

I put my hand on her waist my touch featherlight, not wanting to overstep. “Is this okay?”

She purses her lips. Her eyes stay locked on mine as she tries to read what I’m trying to do. But she ultimately nods.

I put both my hands on her waist and pick her up from next to me putting her on my lap. She lets out a shaky breath her eyes going wide.

“Is this okay?” I enquirer my tone staying low.

Her bottom lip wobbles again. She closes her eyes briefly. “I don’t wanna go anything.” She breaths out her voice small and almost afraid.

My own eyes widen for a second looking back at her. I just realized how bad this looked without context. But I’m not a dick. I want to comfort her, not get in her pants.

I take my hands from her waist putting them on my thighs. Yet she doesn’t make a move off of me. Her hand stayed bunched up on my shirt.

“God, I don’t mean it like that.” I breathe out. “Just, me comforting you would be easier like this?” I says slowly.

Her gaze goes up to meet mine again, her lip quivering holding herself back from crying again.

She leans forward resting her face on my collarbone. She puts her other hand on my chest too as she starts to sob again. my right hand goes to her back rubbing it gently. While my left hand goes to her thigh massaging where her scars presumably were.

Her crying makes me tear up again. So we just cry together. My hand rubbing soothing motions into her back, and my other hand finally going up to cradle her head into me further.

I whisper encouraging words. Until eventually her cries die down, and so do mine.

She pulls back slightly, her eyes red rimmed and puffy. The tip of her nose and her cheeks red. And her lips as puffy as her eyes. She is a pretty crier, but the sight still makes me feel remorseful.

I put my hand back on her right thigh gently rubbing circles on it. My other hand going to cup her cheek. She leans into my touch relaxing more. She looked more tired than anything now.

“You can always talk to me, you know that.” I breath out, finally feeling like the lump in my throat was gone.

Her hand cups my wrist keeping my hand in her face. I start to rub her cheek gently looking at her pretty face.

“You can stay with me, Nick and Chris. Alright?” She nods slightly in answer.

I move my hand from her cheek to her hair rubbing at her scalp slightly. “You want me to take you home pretty girl?” I ask softly.

After all we were still in the school parking lot.

“Please.”

Masterlist

A/N: I actually cried writing this. the first part was actually literally me. and i also used to cry a lot, and cut, so this just made me cry while writing, bcs i relate to it so much. i love you all, stay safe & clean <3

‼️please don’t copy my work/idea‼️

Taglist: @muwapsturniolo , @sturnad , @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 , @evie-sturns , @me09love , @fratbrochrisgf , @spideylovin , @chrissgirlsstuff , @stunza , @whicked-hazlatwhore , @sturniooolos , @ecliphttlunar , @orangeypepsi , @klaus223492 , @char112244 , @sst7niolo , @slut4chriss , @mattsturniololoverr , @th3-3d3n-g4rd3n , @st7rnioioss , @t1llysblogs , @nonat-111 , @blahbel668 , @rockstarchr1s , @sturnsintrouble , @nayveetbhh

#spotify #matthew sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo angst #sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #angst #sadgirl

[thebirdandhersong]

songbird's season of general sadness/first real grief/sorrow is coming to an end: (in chronological/journeying order) songs and poetry that helped my heart a lot these past few months :)

Always Good, Andrew Peterson / Marjorie, Andrew Osenga / Ask Polly article I read on a whim: 'My Boyfriend Refuses to Change' / You're On Your Own, Kid, Taylor Swift / One Foot in Front of the Other, Griff / Heavy, Mary Oliver / Monday by @madamescarlette / The Letter, Linda Gregg / Summer's Retrospective by @madamescarlette / Ode to Some Lyric Poets, Gregory Orr

(bonus--from the scraps of writing that came out of this chapter of life, which are slowly being assembled into a more coherent story:)

#yknow i felt so alone at so many points but i really really wasn't #i had such good friends (here and in my church community) who held my hand so gently #and God used the things i understood best to show me His incredible love at just the right moments #still an ongoing journey but i am so so grateful for the secondhand heart-strength given to me and the tenderness that was extended when i #when i was really at my lowest and saddest and most oversensitive and easily provoked to impatience or anger or depressive spirals #anyway i can't remember who sent me marjorie but thank you so much for that it was such a comfort. it continues to be #and thank you eden for sharing your beautiful poetry!!!! it continues to refresh and encourage my soul #mmmm it's hard to put into words what everything (and by everything i mean: the songs here and on my playlists #and the poetry here and the books i've read during the summer and into the autumn #from cyrano de bergerac to tolstoy to rilke's poems and dorothy sayers and dostoevsky and st therese & st teresa and madeleine l'engle #not to mention the night walks and morning prayers and the wonderful times i've had with the other dorm girls! #suddenly quite overwhelmed by the abundance of love and blessing #immensely immensely grateful for everything. i can be such a little wretch sometimes and wallow awfully for days #or act like a little human machine and try to Rid Myself of all emotional surges. or just focus on all the negative things with astonishing #tunnel vision (you wouldn't BELIEVE). but God has been so gracious despite songbird being a silly goose #and every once in a while having mental breakdowns and having to learn the same lesson (surrender and humility) a bajillion times #anyway!! my heart doesn't hurt anymore!! #and i am learning to take it one day at a time and to Rejoice in all circumstances #slings and arrows of outrageous fortune in year 21 #which really is so much harder than i thought at times!!!! but that makes it even more important to do so i think

[early20sfailingplenty]

Untangle me // Bo Sinclair x gn!reader

A/N: Hey! So I haven't written for the Sinclairs siiiiiiince, what, September 2022? This is a daydream I've been entertaining the last few days and I'm writing it to get rid of the rust on my Sinclair characterisations while I work on a gift for a friend. This is extremely self-indulgent; Y/N's panic with their hair is how I get with the tiniest of knots; I am genuinely ridiculous about it. Hope you enjoy!💖

Summary: Vincent and Lester, your usual go-tos for help, aren't available. But there's a knot in your hair, it's big enough to be scaring you, and you need someone to help you. You find the bravery to let Bo help you when he finds you crying. He's the last Sinclair who you ordinarily would trust with your hair. But desperate times call for desperate measures, and Bo ends up surprising the both of you.

Contents: Platonic or romantic (I leaned towards romance but your interpretation is up to you), reader has hair which can be combed/brushed through relatively easily), gender!neutral reader, reader cries/is panicking/calms easily once the knots are out of their hair, reader is mentally ill and the knot is basically the trigger of some kind of breakdown/meltdown (not sure which it is). Italics denote reader's thoughts. No triggers or warnings as far as I'm aware, this is fluff and softness.

Word count: 1, 361.

You stood at the bathroom sink, a small section of your hair pinched between two fingers, your comb in your other hand, your eyes swimming in unshed tears as you stared blankly at your reflection.

Just try again, Y/N, it's only a small knot.

But it wasn't. To anyone else, it would have been no big deal, it was just a knot. But to you, someone for whom their hair was as important to them as the air they breathed, it was grounds for panic. White hot fear ran through you and rendered you unwilling and unable to continue to try to get the knot out by yourself. You stared at the knot so intensely that when next you blinked, a tear slipped down your cheek, and then you broke.

Within seconds, one tear turned to two, which turned to six, and before you knew it, you were sobbing in front of the mirror, the tangled hair in one hand and your comb still in the other, your eyes red and puffy, your cheeks sticky with tears which couldn't dry before the next ones fell. You put the comb down and tried to separate the strands manually, blinking harshly against tears, but your fingers snagged three more times, your panic making you impatient, and you ended up making the tangle look worse, so you cried harder, you whimpered, your mind raced as you thought of scissors and oh god oh fuck I have to cut all my hair off, this is it, it's time to say goodbye -

The more you thought of having to cut your hair, the harder you cried, and the harder you cried, the faster Bo stomped through the house as he dashed up the stairs, slowing at the top as he stalked towards the bathroom, the door flinging open to reveal -

You, in a state he had seen his younger brothers patiently and painstakingly deal with every fuckin' night.

It was ridiculous, really, but they all grew to accept this as a part of your nightly routine. Why you never did your hair before you got too tired to deal with the inevitable tangles and knots calmly, none of them knew, but it was a part of you they had grown to accept and learned to aid you in. Vincent and Lester were always your first ports of call when it came to needing help with your hair, but it was Bo's annoyance at you asking his brothers for assistance that strongly deterred you from asking him for the same favour.

"Oh," Bo groaned, already planning on leaving you to it, "not this shit again," he waved a hand at you dismissively as he started to turn around.

You had visibly perked up at the prospect of help but as Bo turned around to leave, a gasp for air which was far too broken to actually bring in oxygen to your lungs ripped out of you and Bo froze.

He had never heard you make a noise like that and after tonight, he never wanted to again.

"Oh, darlin'," Bo sighed, "I ain't so good at - " he gestured vaguely, "this." He wanted to help you, or at least, get you to quit your whinin', but he didn't think he had it in him to be gentle. Not like his brothers could be. Even if he could get the knot out, he'd surely hurt you. Hurting you, of all people, wasn't fun for Bo. It never failed to surprise him, all the things he could do to you being many of the things he simply wouldn't, couldn't.

"Don't gotta be good," you mumbled and swiped a hand across your face, sniffling, "just gotta be better'n me. I can't get it out, Bo," you sobbed, "and I'm gonna have to cut my hair all off because Lester and Vinny aren't here to help me and I can't - I can't get it out and I'm gonna have to say bye-bye to my hair" and just like that, you were gone, sobbing on your knees on the bathroom floor, that fucking knot still clutched in your hand. Way in the back of your head, you knew that this was just one small thing which had tipped you over the edge in your mind; you had been hanging there for a while if this was what had set you off in the end.

"Like hell you are," Bo scoffed. He shook his head, stalked over to you. You flinched, your shoulders curled in on themselves, but Bo only came up behind you and kneeled down, grabbing your comb from you and easing the tangled hair from between your fingers. "I ain't sure I can be gentle, Y/N, but I ain't lettin' you cut nothin', either. Vincent would sign my ear off."

You giggled, a wet sound, and Bo smirked behind you as he got to work on the knot in your hair. His chest felt heavy in a good way when you laughed through your tears, but the enthusiasm in his endeavour to rid you of the knot made him a bit harsh, and you visibly winced. "Ow, Bo!" Your hand flew to touch his hand, trying to still him, but he pulled himself away. He couldn't help you if you had his hand in yours.

"Sssh, darlin', s'okay," He ducked around to press a kiss to the apple of your cheek, which was damp with tears. "Jus' sit tight, lemme work." In truth, almost as soon as he had started to work in earnest on the knot, it had come undone, so now he was simply brushing the rest of your hair for you, being careful and slow like he had seen his brothers do.

You pre-emptively winced every time the brush moved up your hair, but pain never came after that first time. Sometimes Bo swore to himself or he would make a thoughtful noise and you could practically see the frown on his face as your tears finally began to slow, your panic melted into relief now that the source of your anxiety was being dealt with by someone more level-headed in this situation than you, and you felt content to let Bo do his thing. He was slow, slightly rough with how he set the comb into your strands but then the downward drag was almost... gentle?

Before long, you could tell just by how your scalp felt that there were no knots or tangles left in your hair, but Bo was still combing, and you had started to tip your head into his hand, like a cat wanting more affection.

"Want it braided, darlin'?"

"It's okay, Bo, I can - "

A scarred wrist came into view as Bo plucked your satin scrunchie off your own wrist, taking it for himself as he did his best to copy his brothers' movements from previous times he had watched this precious nightly ritual be carried out. He wasn't half bad; it was slightly uneven, a little loose, but Bo had done it, so it was perfect.

"All righ'," Bo sighed, handed you back your comb. "Took a few, but I got it. All sleek n' pretty, darlin', jus' as y'like it."

Your hands flew up to feel around the braid, and you gasped happily, smiling widely as you spun around to face Bo. He flinched at how quickly you had moved but he didn't step back - he trusted you, even as you threw yourself at him in a hug, holding him tightly. Your anxiety was settling slowly, your tears had slowed almost to a stop, and with the source of your fear gone, you only wanted to be held. "Thank you! Thank you thank you thank you thank you, Bo! Thank you for helping me."

You grinned and Bo's face softened into a smile.

His arms came up to wrap around you loosely but then all at once, he melted into you, your comb still in his hand. If he had known it was the key to your affection, he would have picked it up long before his brothers had ever had the chance to do so.

Everyone go and thank @darklylucid for encouraging me to at least try to write for Bo and for being my soundboard, sentence structure editor, and for helping me write for this fandom for the first time in seven months.💖

#slasher x reader #bo sinclair #bo sinclair x reader #house of wax 2005 #house of wax 2005 x reader #bo sinclair fluff #bo sinclair comfort

[ayunakatsukiwolfhashira]

𝐔𝐃𝐌𝐓𝐏 𝐀𝐔 𝐌𝐮𝐳𝐚𝐧 𝐒𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐬 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄

ℛℰ𝒬𝒰ℰ𝒮𝒯ℰ𝒟

Recently, Muzan has been sleeping in the most random places. When it first happened, the Upper Moons were terrified that he was injured because who sleeps in a cabinet on their free will? Muzan does, after that incident, he was found sleeping under the tables, in the pantry, and even on top of the fridge!

𝐃𝐚𝐤𝐢

At first, she was alarmed and worried since she thought Muzan was scared of something or was injured.

Once she found out that he would just fall asleep when he was sleeping no matter where he was, she thought it was the most adorable thing in the world

Whenever she found him sleeping somewhere random, she would smile so much and watch over him in case someone (*cough cough* Doma) would disturb his sleep

She would attempt to sleep in random places with him but it was uncomfortable no matter what she did

𝐆𝐲𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨

He was concerned when he just saw Muzan under the table not moving, he thought he was dead at first but felt extremely relieved when he found out that Muzan just sleeps anywhere

He thought it was odd but never judged him since it wasn’t hurting anyone plus it made Muzan happy

Whenever Gyutaro saw Muzan sleeping somewhere peculiar, he would just shrug and walk off

When he saw Daki try to sleep in the random places with Muzan, he thought it was adorable and felt like he was also Muzan’s older brother

𝐆𝐲𝐨𝐤𝐤𝐨

He was shocked and frightened from the sight of Muzan in the sink not moving, millions of different scenarios raced through his mind and he did not know what to do

He was super thankful when he learned that Muzan was just sleeping in the sink and not a rotting corpse

He thought this habit of his was amusing and would make art projects inspired by Muzan’s sleeping habits

Gyokko began comparing Muzan’s behavior to a cat and it warmed his heart even more

𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐮

HE. WOULD. FLIP. OUT. He thought he was dead and immediately began panicking and bawling his eyes out until Muzan woke up.

He would have a heart attack every single time he saw Muzan sleep in some random spot like on top of the fridge, no matter how many times it happened, he thought he was dead every single time.

The other Upper Moons would have to make sure Hantengu was not in the same place Muzan was because they did not want to hear him have another mental breakdown or wake up Muzan

Every time he turned a corner, he prayed to whatever god he believed in that he would not see Muzan sleeping somewhere because he knew he was going to have another heart attack

𝐍𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐦𝐞

She was intrigued by Muzan’s behavior since she’s never seen anyone being comfortable enough to fall asleep in places such as the pantry.

She would let a small smile appear whenever she caught sight of Muzan sleeping somewhere odd, she thought it was a childish yet innocent act.

She would also watch over him and would teleport him somewhere else if something threatened to disturb his sleep

Muzan’s new habit caused Nakime to become more protective over him because she saw how vulnerable he could be

𝐀𝐤𝐚𝐳𝐚

He was hella confused and angry? The second he saw Muzan on top of the fridge, he immediately began to blame Doma because he thought he did something to Muzan

Even when Akaza found out that it was just something Muzan did, Akaza still shot nasty glares at Doma

Whenever Muzan slept somewhere, Akaza would stand guard and the second he saw Doma, he would charge at him full speed

Akaza would kill pretty much anyone who dared to disturb or mock Muzan’s sleeping habits

𝐃𝐨𝐦𝐚

He thought it was adorable and when he went to go sleep next to Muzan under the table, Akaza would yank him back and drag him away

Doma never even got the chance to go near Muzan when he was sleeping because Akaza would chase after him

Doma eventually thought of this as a funny game and would purposely make Akaza chase him while he laughed

Doma laughed hysterically when Akaza yelled curses at him or tried to shove him, Doma thought of this as a fun way to get to know each other while Akaza was out to kill him

𝐊𝐨𝐤𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐛𝐨

Kokoshibo would silently have a panic attack but immediately calmed down when he learned that it was a habit of Muzan

Kokoshibo would make sure that the area was well cleaned before Muzan slept there, he didn’t want to risk Muzan getting sick or an infection

Kokoshibo would have to be the one to stop Doma and Akaza from running around since all their noises could wake up Muzan

Kokoshibo became the father figure for Muzan, Doma and Akaza since he would have to take care of them and discipline Doma and Akaza if they woke up Muzan

#kimetsu no yaiba #feel free to ask questions #requests open #request #daki #gyutaro #gyokko #hantengu #nakime #akaza #doma #kokoshibo #muzan

[canonicallyobserving911]

“I’m still in love with you but... I needed to learn how to love myself too!”

Fanonwriter2023 on AO3

Where CANON and FANON collide!

Season 7 FANON Speculation: Buddie Multi-Chapter Fanfic - Hiatus Reading: “I’m still in love with you but... I needed to learn how to love myself too!”

Chapter 21 is now available on AO3.

This is an EPIC LOVE STORY!

“I’m still in love with you but... I needed to learn how to love myself too!”

Currently 21 chapters completed: 797.3K Words; Rated: Mature

One chapter will be posted at a time.

___________

Here's a snippet from one of Buck's and Eddie's romantically fluffy conversations included in Chapter 21.

___________

Without ending their embrace, Buck turns around in his arms and once they’re face to face, he says, “I’m going to miss you”.

“I’m going to miss you too.”  He replies then he leans in and kisses him.

It’s a long, deep and slow kiss that he hopes will remain imprinted in the front of his mind until they see each other again in more than 56 hours.

They only break it when they need to come up for air and after they do, they lean their foreheads against each other’s with their lips only millimeters apart.

“I love you!”  Eddie emphatically admits.

“I love you too with every piece of me!”

“We only have 5 more days until we leave for Europe and 7 more days until we get married.”

“And I can’t wait.”  Buck replies then he kisses his fiancé once more because he can.  When he pulls back, he looks into Eddie’s honey brown eyes and exclaims, “Babe, since we’ll only be in the states for a few more days… I—I want us to enjoy them.  I don’t want to think about anything but us getting ready to leave L.A. so we can focus on us getting married.”

He smiles and nods.  “I love that idea.  Let’s focus solely on our trip and leave whatever happened in the last few weeks right here in Los Angeles, CA.”

___________

This is an EPIC LOVE STORY!

Fic Summary: Months after Buck and Eddie were hit by the same lightning strike; they’re still struggling with the aftermath of it.  But before they make their love confessions, they’ll spend time getting to know themselves as individuals first. Eddie learns to enjoy the simple things in life as he participates in activities on his own and with new friends while Buck learns the rest of the 31-year-old deep dark family secret about his conception and birth. Their journey to forever is still a work in progress but once they finally admit they’re in love with each other, everything that follows their love confessions will be cataclysmic.

__________

Chapter Summaries

Chapter 1 - Eddie makes a new friend while Buck receives devastating news regarding the sperm donation he made for Connor and Kameron.

Chapter 2 - Buck does a lot of research to learn more about the abnormalities found in his red blood cells and Eddie starts a new therapy journey that’s all about him and not the traumas he’s experienced.

Chapter 3 - After more than a month, Buck and Eddie finally spend time together outside of work but it doesn’t end well and they part with a lot of uncertainty regarding their places in each other’s lives.

Chapter 4 - Eddie has a few realizations about his life which causes him to consider moving back to El Paso, TX while Buck continues to be reminded of his past which causes him to take an impromptu road trip across America.

Chapter 5 - Both Buck and Eddie have difficult conversations with their parents and Buck finally learns the truth behind the reason why his mother despised him while Eddie finally tells his mother about the way she tries to control him.

Chapter 6 - More than two weeks after Buck pushed Eddie away after suggesting they needed a break; Eddie decides to try again. Eddie’s there for Buck when he’s at his worst just like Buck was there for him when he was at his worst and he won’t let Buck give up.

Chapter 7 - After Buck’s mental breakdown, Eddie has his back the same way Buck had his when he had his own breakdown more than a year ago.  They share several vulnerable and emotionally intimate moments with one another and they begin to realize their small, sweet and caring gestures matter just as much if not more than any grand gesture ever could because these are the foundations of a long-lasting love relationship.

Chapter 8 - Buck, Eddie and Chris all have their own therapists and during their sessions, they reflect on their pasts while they’re in the present so they can prepare for their future together as a family.

Chapter 9 - Buck and Eddie are there for each other when Buck has to testify as a witness during the trial.  But by the end of it, they’ll both realize their individual and shared traumas are going to keep resurfacing until they talk about them, deal with the fact that they’re in love with one another and face the fact that they can’t live without each other.

Chapter 10 - As Buck and Eddie finally begin to confront their past traumas, they realize how much they need each other to fill in the gaps of their memories.  Additionally, the universe screams at them for what appears to be the one hundredth time so Buck can realize he doesn’t have to ‘find it’ because he already ‘made it’ and Eddie’s reminded tomorrow isn’t promised and he doesn’t have to die alone if he doesn’t want to.

Chapter 11 - A “virga” or dry thunderstorm is in the forecast but once the rain starts, the thunderstorm happening outside won’t be able to match the storm brewing inside between Buck and Eddie.  It’s the universe’s final scream and when the tumultuous winds begin to blow, they’ll have one last chance to hold onto everything they’ve built over the last six years or they’ll lose it all forever.

Chapter 12 - Buck and Eddie have always shared a deep physical attraction and an emotional intimacy that’s unmatched but now that they’re in a relationship, they’re learning how to navigate the romantic intimacy they’ve been waiting for six years to explore. The love they have for each other is a once in a lifetime, soulmate, love of their lives type of love that transcends space and time.

Chapter 13 - While navigating the newness of their romantic relationship, Buck and Eddie take advantage of every moment they spend together. As their individual lives, people from their pasts, time constraints and the possibility of losing each other again make attempts to interrupt and interfere with their journey to forever, they love, care for, support and hold onto each other even tighter to withstand it all.

Chapter 14 - Buck and Eddie can see the lights at the end of the tunnels regarding the results of Buck’s Cancer Screening along with everything else they’re dealing with. But are the lights they see exits to the tunnels or are they headlights on different runaway trains that are speeding towards them in an effort to interrupt their forever?

Chapter 15 - Buck and Eddie have known they were exactly who the other one wanted in a partner since they met six years ago when they agreed to have each other’s backs. They’re in a romantic relationship, they’re both preparing to ask the other one to spend forever with them and by the end of the seventh week into their relationship, together they will plan their most important and greatest adventure for their future.

Chapter 16 - As Buck and Eddie begin to prepare for their marriage ceremony that will take place in Rome, Italy in December 2023, they start planning their first international adventure as a romantic couple. Even though Chris is still the only person they’ve told about their relationship, several people who know them have already witnessed the love they share and as the days continue, others will witness it too.

Chapter 17 - As Buck and Eddie get closer to departing Los Angeles for their international adventure, a moment in time will remind them; life is fragile, tomorrow isn’t promised and every second of everyday should be cherished because everything can change in an instant. The result of that realization will cause them to hold onto each other even more.

Chapter 18 - As Buck, Eddie and Chris prepare for family gatherings before and during the Thanksgiving holiday, the “Santa Ana Winds” start to blow and all sorts of expected and unexpected familial drama ensues.

Chapter 19 - As Buck and Eddie get closer to their wedding day, the universe begins to align everything so that some of their parent and children's relationships are strengthened while others come to an abrupt end.

Chapter 20 - With only 14 days remaining until Buck, Eddie and Chris depart Los Angeles, CA traveling to Rome, Italy, for their first family adventure, an early morning conversation about “tying up loose ends” helps Buck and Eddie realize there are still several things left unfinished on their ‘To Do’ lists. The question is will there be enough time to complete all of them?

Chapter 21 - Buck, Eddie and Chris are finalizing their ‘To Do’ Lists, double checking their itineraries and packing their suitcases in preparation for their trip to Europe so they can board their flight that departs Los Angeles, CA on Friday, December 15, 2023 at 3:25PM.

Chapter 22 - Will be posted soon.

__________

Read chapters 1-21 are available on AO3.

Continue reading on AO3

#buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #christopher diaz #the buckley diaz family #buckley diaz family #The Diaz Family #buddie fanfic #911 fanfic #ao3 fanfic #Fanonwriter2023 on AO3 #Hiatus Reading #911 abc #911 on abc #buddie wip #“I'm still in love with you but... I needed to learn how to love myself too!” #Chapter 21 is now available on AO3

[emmettland]

heavy vent

i'm so tired of feeling so drained, in every way possible. physically. mentally. emotionally. creatively. i'm trying so hard to do what i love, but it's like i'm not loving it, i'm not loving anything now. i read the words i type and just see something lukewarm, underdeveloped, nowhere near greatness. i open up my canvas to draw and it's just the same shapes, same ideas, same concepts, same struggles. it's all flat and monotone where there used to be life.

i've dealt with some very bad depressive episodes. i don't think i've ever dealt with one this long. it's not that there aren't moments of happiness and relief -- it's just that it hurts more knowing the empty, bitter gray will suck me back in once they end, and i'll make myself even more jaded wishing i could get them back, make them stay.

i want to do something self-destructive, but it would negatively affect the people i live with, the people who still manage to care about me, and i also need to take care of myself enough to take care of Peggy, even though that's become a slog through the gray too. wake up, walk dog, feed dog, feed self. distract from the bad feelings.

i want to work and be productive, but whenever i sit down to do commission work, i'm reminded of my shameful unemployment. whenever i sit down and try to get in the zone while working on a project, all i can think about is how the high won't last. the interest will fade. i'll do brilliant things with it, and then abandon it, and then grieve over something that i decided to leave behind.

all that comes out of my mouth now are excuses, or silence, because talking leads to venting and i can only vent about the same problem, the same feelings (just getting worse), so many damn times before that vicious little voice in my head keeps telling me i'm the problem.

i was better for a while. i got used to ignoring it. i even got to a point where i believed it wasn't right. when i believed people telling me i wasn't a bad person, that my work was worthwhile, that i was worthwhile. i believed it, i accepted it, i fucking loved myself.

i climbed all the way to what felt like the top, only to come tumbling down, down, down. it never changes, and i never learn. the higher you go, the farther you fall. when in my life have i ever found the key to happiness and actually held onto it? it's a delusion. everything is just a fucking delusion and i can't tell why. is it my brain chemistry? do i need pills? is it the unemployment? is it getting older? is it my own choices? if the answer was just written out for me, i could solve it, because i help solve other people's problems, why not mine?

i'm not suicidal. i'm not. i sound like a raving mad man while i type this out at seven in the morning, but this is the most real that i've felt, the words are actually clear to me and not just blurry shapes behind a wall of I'm Fine, I'm Polite, Don't Worry. everything is making sense right now and the words are so bright and sharp, it's almost like digging and digging and finally finding something in the ground.

i don't want to die. i'm not sure if i want to be understood. i don't need everyone to love me, just my family and friends is fine, i would also like to be included in that equation. i think about dying all the time, but i don't want to die, trust me. i just want help. i need help, and maybe spitting out so-called edgy nonsense on my blog isn't going to help me, but maybe it's good not to backspace and delete everything. maybe it'll give my therapist something to work with because i always forget to say things in the moment.

i can't even say i'm having a breakdown. that's singular, an isolated event. this is breaking down. i'm losing it, i'm fucking losing it, but believe me, i'm holding on. it might not look like it, but i'm grabbing and not letting go, even when my grip starts to slip. my dad's an alcoholic and turned to drinking when he got laid off. my dad made my mom cry so many times when i was a kid because he let go and i won't make that mistake, i won't make mom cry, even if she doesn't live here. i will not end up like him.

#emmett vents #i'm not tired at all but i'm going to bed #i'm feeling a little off the rails

[genericpuff]

same anon as last ask. I also have to note: i dont think there are any good reasons for domestic abuse. there are none. you said hades didnt deserve to get slapped but then had previously said "as if the victim of the slap wasn’t a guy who was just as if not more abusive than she was in that relationship in his own fucked up way". reading that it does feel like you are saying he deserved to be slap or trying to justify it. maybe you arent tho? btw i dont give a shit about that man lmao

No, and you're right! But that's always the assumption people make whenever defenses for Minthe are made - that by empathizing with Minthe, or by pointing out that Hades was just as shitty in the relationship as she was, you're excusing domestic violence and abuse - and they're very... strawmen assumptions, IMO.

(TW: abuse)

The issue with the Minthe debate is that a lot of people fail to hold every other abusive character in the comic to the same standards they hold Minthe, and they fail to recognize everything that led up to the slap.

Like, when Hecate slapped the shit out of Hades for being into Persephone, where were people then? It was played off for laughs.

But then Minthe slaps Hades once during an emotional breakdown and all of a sudden she's an irredeemable villain.

No one deserves to be physically or verbally assaulted whether or not mental health is involved. But when mental health is a factor in cases like Minthe - which it is because she was initially designed with BPD until Rachel retconned it on Discord - it's one of those "it's a reason, not an excuse" sort of deals. If LO Minthe was being written by someone who actually cared about mental health representation, she would have been given the same opportunity to grow and learn from her mistakes and past transgressions just as Hades and Persephone have been given.

Instead, Minthe is a villain for having a moment of cruelty during a breakdown, and Hades and Persephone never seem to have to own up to the shit they do. Abuse is never okay, but LO is essentially saying "abuse is okay if you're cute and rich and if you make funny meme faces while you do it."

Characters like Minthe are WAY more interesting than Hades and Persephone BECAUSE of their flaws, she isn't peddled as perfect, she's real. Minthe and characters like her are raw and genuine, they don't feel like they're putting on some act of "niceness", they feel like people, people who make mistakes and fuck up and suffer consequences for their decisions and their action. I've seen a lot of people empathize with and enjoy Minthe's character simply because they do see themselves in her, they see her vulnerabilities and her flaws and her fears and recognize that she's not perfect. Some people truly are irredeemable beyond repair, but Minthe... Minthe still had a fighting chance. We had that chance when she first dumped Thetis, it was so cathartic to see her take control of her own situation and healing... but then RS backtracked on it immediately because she accidentally made the character who she knew she wanted Persephone to turn into a plant way too empathetic. So instead she opted to dial up Minthe's shittiness to 1584923108 in order to get her audience to hate her - and to ensure anyone who did still empathize with her look abusive by extension.

She didn't need or deserve 'another chance' from Hades, or Hecate, or the other people who she had already hurt countless times. But she does deserve to give herself the chance to grow and learn and move forward to something better. We all do. It's why forgiveness is one of the most essential first steps in growth.

I'm tired of reading about H x P "forgiving" themselves for what they do with false platitudes of TherapySpeak. Because they never learn, they keep acting like shitheads and much of their behavior comes across as fake and disingenuous, like they're just putting on a show. And that's when they actually acknowledge their behavior, more often than not their bullshit is celebrated.

I don't want to celebrate abuse. I want to see character development. You can't develop or grow if you're deluded into thinking you're not doing anything wrong. Persephone and Hades have nowhere to go. Minthe had an entire life ahead of her away from Hades and Thetis... and we were robbed of the chance to witness it.

But that's just my two cents.

#tw abuse #lore olympus critical #lo critical #anti lore olympus #antiloreolympus #ama #ask me anything #anon ama #anon ask me anything

[unreliablesnake]

Embarrassment (platonic Joel Miller x reader)

Summary: A strange father-daughter duo gets your attention at a fan signing event.

Note: singer!reader, pre-outbreak / This is the scene I mentioned in You must be new here. / If you want to know when I post new stuff, follow @unreliablesnakefics and hit the get notifications button. I don't have a taglist.

It was another signing event a day before your concert in Austin. Things went smoothly. You had every kind of fan, from an obsessed teenager through an adult who found herself in your songs straight to a creepy guy who had your face and name on a shirt and started the whole meeting with saying I love you. Sometimes it was too much to handle, but today you were in a strangely good mood.

Your ears picked up a frustrated conversation from the line in front of you. There was a teenage girl standing there with an older man, probably her father, and they argued about something quite heatedly. The girl was on the verge of a breakdown while the man seemed to be pleased with himself. He reached out to pat her head in a comical manner, but she moved out of the way and pushed his hand away.

“Can you just wait outside, please?” she asked loudly.

Several people turned to look at them, which made the girl hang her head and let out a frustrated sigh. The man theatrically thought about this suggestion, a move that drew a smile on your lips, then shook his head. The girl opened her mouth to say something, but she soon changed her mind because she noticed you watching them.

She turned away in embarrassment, and her father looked in your direction to see what made her react like this. When your eyes locked, you couldn’t help but gulp. This man was gorgeous, especially with those big brown eyes of his that were now focused on you. He was exactly your type, but you had to behave. You weren’t here to flirt with hot dads, you were here for the fans.

You cleared your throat and tore your gaze away, finally paying attention to the young guy in front of you. He gave you a nice long speech you had heard a million times before about how your music helped him through heartbreaks, but it was okay, you just had to smile and say a few kind words.

When your new favorite pair reached the table, your lips curled into a genuine smile and you looked back and forth between the two, waiting to see if any of them would start talking. But the girl seemed nervous, the dad was mentally far, far away, so you took it on yourself to break the silence.

“Hello. What’s your name?” you asked the girl. She bit on her lower lip, unable to say anything. “You know, my dad was the same when I was your age,” you told her conspiratorially, your words followed by a wink.

The man suddenly looked at you with a raised eyebrow. “Huh?”

“Really?” the girl asked with a bright smile. Finding out they had something in common with you usually helped to break the ice. “I’m Sarah. Could you sign this for me?”

You nodded with a smile as you took the CD from her and took out the cover to sign it. Out of the corner of your eye you glanced at her father who was staring at you with an amused look on his handsome face. Once you were done, you gave it back to her, but when she wanted to take it, you didn’t let go.

“Listen, I get it, fathers take every opportunity they get to embarrass their children, but it only shows that he loves you,” you told her seriously. “He came here with you, I’m sure he wants to learn what you’re excited about. Look, my dad died two years ago, but if I could go back in time, I would let him follow me everywhere so I could spend more time with him. Think about it, okay?”

She nodded then finally took the CD from you. “Thank you. I can’t wait to see you tomorrow! Bye,” she chimed happily before walking away.

Her father took a deep breath as he watched her, and once she got out of earshot, he leaned closer to you and said, “Thank you. For everything.” He flashed a disarming smile at you and it knocked every thought out of your mind. You just nodded and watched him catch up with his daughter in silence.

You took a sip of water as you tried to pull yourself together, fighting that voice in the back of your mind that told you to go after them. You couldn’t do this. Paparazzi were outside, dying to get a photo they could sell for a small fortune to gossip magazines. Seeing you flirt with him wouldn’t be good for your image.

At least that’s what your manager and publicist would say.

********

#joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller #sarah miller #the last of us #tlou

[inposterumcumgaudio]

Uncle Jack & Foggy Jack

So if you're asking about both of them, I'm assuming that's because you're into the idea that they are one and the same.

I don't dislike the concept, but I like it much more for that the game seems to push that notion while simultaneously giving you nothing to substantiate it and, at times, even giving you details that seem to contradict it than the idea for its own sake. Good shit!

It's another one of those things you'll never have a canon answer for!

And frankly, I've never really found the question of whether Uncle Jack is Foggy Jack that interesting. It's a little contrived, a little obvious, a very basic bitch story. The most famous man in town has a mental breakdown and becomes a serial killer? And he somehow does this despite being instantly recognizable by everyone? And also he's doing this while he's still filming his show every day and looking all normal and shit?

Too, the whole Foggy Jack thing intrudes on the natural predisposition of fledging fanartists to make serial killer OC's.

Foggy Jack also exists as an urban legend in the town in a way I think predates even the toxic fog (and I was given a separate ask about this as well so I'll save my thots about that for then!)

But suffice to say, because I do not find the whole Uncle vs Foggy Jack thing compelling and I'd never really devoted much thought to it, I struggled to think of something interesting to say about it. The only chapter I ever wrote about the subject was actually about why Ollie's surface-level investigation of the crime scene in "A Pomaceous Puzzle" did not arrive at the correct conclusion. It simply doesn't fit the MO.

However... in reviewing what we know concretely about Foggy Jack from the main game, I actually did arrive at a fascinating new theory.

Because we think of this as a duality, do we not? Uncle Jack is one side of the coin, Foggy Jack the other. That's why you asked about both.

Let us go over what we know for sure about Foggy Jack, that was reported in the game, to separate out the unreliable information given in "Lightbearer". There are only two sources of "solid" information about Foggy Jack in the main game:

In "The "O" COURANT - Article 3", we learn that five Wellie women - Annie Chapman, Elizabeth Stride, Catherine Eddowes, Mary Jane Kelly, and Mary Anne Nichols - have been found hacked to pieces in the streets. All of these women are named for real-life victims of Jack the Ripper.

Stated in the above and reiterated in "Interrogation Report", these murders seem to take place on particularly foggy nights. "Interrogation Report" also states that the witness, Daniel Dunglass, reported that the apparent murderer's face looked "oddly familiar" to him.

One further piece of information that we learn in Ollie's act is that Foggy Jack apparently kept a hideout in the Gardner House, at least until plague wastrels overtook it. We know this from the suitcase which contains a cleaver and the "Mystery Note" with the only the phrase "I'm afraid you've come to the end of your time" on it.

And here we learn that Foggy Jack has some interest in Margaret. And that makes sense if he's actually Uncle Jack.

But... what it's it's not a duality.

What if it's a triptych?

What if it's not Uncle Jack, but someone who would have us come to that conclusion? Someone who would want us to think Uncle Jack is avenging his murdered daughter, but is in fact trying to frame him for it?

Why, who would have motive to do that?

Who indeed.

But DJ, you say, that's crazy. You play through Ollie's entire act and not once do they ever imply that he could be Foggy Jack.

Yeah, well, there's a lot of stuff they don't imply through his act, ain't there?

And just like with Uncle Jack, the details don't say anything conclusive but consider.

Ollie is said multiple times over his act to have periods of lapsed memory, both due to the Oblivion he took and excessive drinking. Margaret mentions specifically in both "The Camp of Thine Enemies" and "Cache as Cache Can" that Ollie has trouble remembering things due to his drinking. And it's an interesting coincidence that Ollie also "vaguely remembers" leaving himself a cache of supplies in that quest and its the same sort of vague notion that leads him into Gardner House where he finds Foggy Jack's suitcase.

He's also in deep denial about the limits of his morality and how far he'll go to see traitors get theirs. Still, killing innocent women just to make Uncle Jack look bad? Surely not! Maybe Ollie ratted out a little girl and got her chased down and murdered, but he's not a serial killer!

Then again, if there's one thing Ollie hates, it's a collaborator. Deutschland Über Alles special and all. And you know who about the first people to start collaboratin' with an occupying force are?

Prostitutes.

All of Foggy Jack's not-hallucination victims are named for the "Canonical Five" of Jack the Ripper's victims, all known prostitutes. Which, sure, maybe that's just the reference, but we actually meet Elizabeth Stride before her apparent death. As Ollie. At the Jack O Bean Club, where she works as a cook serving a bunch of collaborationist traitor lovers. She has no love for them, calling them toffs and wankers as she does, but she does also muse aloud to herself about it: "Take the job, she says. You'll never have to suck another cock, she says." Which sounds an awful lot like a thing a (former?) prostitute would say, making it two separate issues to Ollie, really. And why else would a fine upstanding Wellette be out on the streets at night anyway? That's how Foggy Jack gets you!

And for my most tenuous point: remember that guy from the Interrogation Report? Daniel Dunglass. I looked his ass up and

Reminiscent!

Dunglass (the character, not the actual guy) also says that the murderer's face is "oddly familiar" to him. Uncle Jack is familiar, but not oddly so. Ollie isn't exactly a nobody in town, but he's definitely odd looking in a world that conformist.

And as long as we're drawing specious connections, Daniel Dunglass (the real guy, not the character) was a Scottish medium famous for levitation and speaking with the dead. You know who else does a lot of that?

But... even if Ollie is Foggy Jack, I don't think he killed the constables at the apple tree. Which means there's copycat killer pretending to be the guy who's pretending to be Uncle Jack pretending be urban legend Foggy Jack.

#uncle jack worthing #foggy jack #we happy few #ollie starkey

[boxofancientdaydreams]

Demon!Hongjoong x gn!reader (no gendered pronouns used)

Genre: Hurt/comfort, fluff

Word count: 1774

Warnings: a lot of nicknames (HJ calls reader love a lot), HJ talks a lot about murder - but no actual murder, a piece of shit (pardon my French) father figure, a dumb ending because I couldn’t think of a fitting one. Please let me know if I forgot anything.

This fic is inspired by the phenomenal Hotel California fic from mint-yooxgi.

Summary: Reader meets their Father again and Hongjoong is there to clean up the mess.

Note: Saw my dad again. Had a mental Breakdown. Voilà!

Jokes aside though, I really thought I would post a bit more regularly on here but yeah. This was supposed to be a SKZ-account but I started listening to Ateez and now we’re here… Anyway, I tried to use second person p.o.v. for the first time but I’m not too sure if I like how it turned out. If you have a preference for the p.o.v-thing, please let me know :)

As always English isn’t my first language so I apologize in advance for any mistakes.

Feedback is greatly appreciated :)

Please note that this story is fictional and not meant to represent any Ateez members in real life.

You knew that he wouldn’t understand. He never did. And still you were at his beck and call. Still, you tried to be a child to him that he approved of. Yet every time you broke and twisted yourself into shape for him, you still weren’t enough.

Today was one of the rare days where you went to see your father again. It was a belated celebration of his birthday and like the fool you were you dressed up and went, thinking that this time would be different. You learned quickly that it wasn’t, it never will be. It always ends the same way with your father angry and you in tears over the disapproval of a parent who never cared enough to actually tend to you.

So here you were. Unshed tears glimmering in your eyes while standing in front of the door to the apartment you shared with your partner. As much as you loved him, you dreaded going inside. He wouldn’t react well to you coming home in this state especially since he had warned you about your father hurting you again right before you left. Just because he was indeed right about that, you were in no condition to hear him say “I told you so”. Not right now. Right now, you just needed calm and comfort.

You took another deep breath and turned the key. It was eerily quiet when you stepped inside but that soon changed when all the lights turned on at once and Hongjoong appeared out of thin air in front of you.

“Hey love, how was your night? Did you eat well?”

Locking the door with your back facing him you responded: “Yeah, it was okay”, while cursing your voice for sounding weak. You just hoped he wouldn’t notice and distracted yourself with taking of shoes and jacket. You gasped lightly when his fingers found yours and slowly turned you towards him. As soon as your eyes met you knew that he picked up on your emotions. His soft smile disappeared, and his brows furrowed.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay? Are you hurt? Did something happen?” he asked with his worried gaze focused on you. You tried to answer but all that escaped your mouth was a choked sob. You tried to calm down, but when you felt him engulfing you in a soft hug you couldn’t stop yourself from breaking down. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you remembered the course of the night once more. No matter how many times it happened, it still hurt. It broke you time and time again.

Hongjoong was lost. His thoughts were racing. He didn’t know what to do. It wasn’t like comfort was a big thing where he came from, so he was still learning how to console someone. He hoped the closeness could offer a sense of safety to his love. He wanted you to be comfortable. To be there for you.

He loosened his arms around you a little to get a look at your face. Tears were still streaming down your face like the endless streams of a river. Your breathing was rushed and choked. It stung inside him to see you like this.

“Come on love. Let’s get you a little more comfortable.” He said softly while guiding you with his arms around you deeper into your apartment. He takes you to your shared bedroom. Once there he helps you into more comfortable clothes (his shirt and sweatpants). He tried to think of what more his love could need but there were so many possibilities and options, like did you need a distraction like a movie? Did you want to take a bath? Alone? with him? He couldn’t figure out what would be best for you, so he settled on asking.

“Darling”, he waited until your eyes met his to ask, “What do you need?”

You seemed in thought and he was already worried that what he had done wasn’t right for this situation, when he heard your voice, a little croaky and quiet respond to his question. “I just need you, Hongjoong.”

He was so relieved to hear your voice that his lips quirked up a little into a soft smile. “Come on then”. He proceeded to guide you to your bed. He helped you get under the covers and quickly got in after you, taking you into his arms and laying your head on his chest, with his hand softly stroking your hair.

You hugged him close and while your tears were still falling and wetting his shirt, you felt a little calmer inside.

“Do you want to talk about what happened?”, Hongjoong questioned after a few minutes of tranquility.

You thought about this and figured that maybe it would be good to talk to someone about it and about how it made you feel. You trusted Hongjoong, so you agreed.

Though instead of speaking you decided you would show him instead. You opened your mind to him and soon felt a subtle presence almost like a soothing caress touch against your consciousness. You closed your eyes and let the events of tonight pass through you once more. You were able to watch as the tension rose and rose during the evening and how your fragile heart got broken once more. You stopped your projection once you watched yourself leave your father’s house in your memories. The only noise that could be heard now was your quiet breathing into Hongjoongs chest as you relived the memory once more. Your lover’s arms tightened around your waist, tensing up and his heart beat a little faster beneath your head as you did so.

You were the first one to break the silence, “I’m sorry”.

“Why are you apologizing, love?”, Hongjoong seemed genuinely confused and when you lifted your head from his chest to look at his facial expressions, this confusion was visible all across his beautiful features. Noting this you tried to explain, “I should’ve listened to you. You said he would hurt me again. I was just too stubborn to believe you. I wanted to believe that this time would be different. That this time he’d care”

As soon as you had finished Hongjoong softly gripped your chin, willing you to meet his sad yet loving gaze, “You have nothing to be sorry for. You estimated the situation differently and wanted to try again. You are someone who believes in the good in people and for that reason you wanted to give him another chance even though he didn’t deserve it. I mean, look at you. You even believe in the good in me, regardless of what and who I am. Regardless of the question whether I deserve your faith.”

Still keeping eye contact you watched as his face darkened. Furrowing his brows he continued, “If anything I should be the one to apologize”. You opened your mouth to question him, but he spoke again before you had the chance to do so. “I should have been there. I should’ve protected you. I promised to keep you safe and tonight I broke that promise. I couldn’t protect you from his words and actions. I wasn’t there when you needed me. I’m deeply sorry for that. You don’t know how much I hate myself for not being there. I will do better. I promise, I will do better for you!”

“What are you even saying?” you knew he was protective of you, but you couldn’t have him blaming himself for something that really wasn’t his fault. “You’re always there and looking out for me. You care for me probably more than anyone ever has. You’re here with me now. That’s what counts.”

“That’s not good enough!” He closed his eyes in what seemed to you like exasperation. As his breathing grew stronger, and he opened his eyes again, an almost pleading look crossed his face. “Please let me redeem myself. Let me kill him. Please, just ask me to kill for you. I’ll make it all better. I’ll make sure he never hurts you again.”

Your mouth opened slightly while you weren’t sure what to say. Since you remained quiet, he took that as his cue to continue, quietly this time while holding you trapped in his gaze. “Just think about it, my beloved. The world would be so much better without him. He caused you so much pain and sorrow and never showed any care or regret after he hurt you. Don’t you want revenge? Won’t you let me kill him for you?” After his little rant his eyes were wide and intense. All his focus was on you and on what your answer would be. All he needed was one word from you and he would make it come true. A soft call of his name called him out of his daze. He watched as your eyes filled with adoration and something that he would define as sternness. His breath got stuck in his throat as he waited for you to speak.

As you started to share your thoughts with him your voice was firm and secure. It wrapped like a fluffy blanket around Hongjoong’s shoulders even though the content of the message brought disappointment. “My love, I don’t want you to kill him. I know you mean well but as much as I hate my father for what he has done to me I do not want you to have his blood on your hands. I don’t need you to kill him. I just need you with me.” You reached out and cupped his cheek in your hand. “You’re all I need and I’m so lucky that you’re always here to catch me when I fall and to comfort me even when I myself am to blame for getting hurt.” At your words he slightly turned his head and placed a light kiss on the palm of your hand. Then he spoke again. “Beloved, I can promise you that I will always try my best to be there when you need me. If you don’t want me to kill him, I respect your wishes, but just know that if you ever change your mind, I only need one word from you and I won’t hesitate to act on it.” He sighed softly and carried on. “I love you and I care for you. I will always care for you, as long as you will let me.” His voice turned gentler as he repeated the question, he had asked you only some moments before: “What do you need?”

As his question, your answer remained the same, “I just need you.”

#ateez imagines #hongjoong imagines #hongjoong x y/n #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong fluff #ateez fluff #hurt/comfort #kpop imagines

[drifting-pieces-blog-blog]

Breaking down the comics: Ignore that problem till it goes away (Issue 25)

Moon Knight, Issue 25: Black Spectre. 

A SPECIAL DOUBLE-SIZED ISSUE! 

This was the preview cover from a previous issue: 

With the tagline: A new vigilante rises as he spins out of a mental breakdown…and his primary target is Khonshu’s avatar!

This one is gonna be a saga! 

The story opens with a discussion on war. 

"Carson Knowles has come home; Hail the conquering Carson Knowles. What's a poor war hero to do?" 

He finds a note from his wife. "P.S. You'll be hearing from my lawyer. I'm retaining custody of Billy. Sorry, Fran." 

"First he stumbles through the strange streets." 

We see hippies yelling at the man in a military uniform. "How many women and babies did you burn, soldier boy?" 

This was a common thing that happened to soldiers returning from Nam especially. 

We see the soldier return to his place of work only to find that he had been replaced and was no longer wanted. 

He is rejected over and over again while the years hit him over and over again. 

We see him years later in a small run down apartment. The police have him on the line, his son Billy Knowles, was killed in a gang fight. 

A few years later and he finds his car stripped and trashed. Needing his car to do his job, he fears he's out. 

A man attempts to rob him at knife point and he snaps, beating the man with the moves he learned in the army. 

He declares war. He wants to take revenge on the whole city. 

Back at his apartment, he finds a newspaper that features Moon Knight. 

"Witness in Brooklyn overheard Moon Knight say to the murderer Bushman, 'I was once just like you, Bushman, a callous killer. But I'm different now. I've changed myself into something better."

Knowles ponders this. "If he could do it, so can I -- In reverse! Let him try to 'protect the nighted city' because I'm going to destroy it! And this time it's not all talk!" 

He decides to make his own secret identity and run for mayor. 

Knowles first sets about to hire goons. He decides to become the exact opposite of Moon Knight in every way. 

His first act as Black Spectre is to go to Boss Cranston's house (a big political figure) and find all his records of corruption and misdeeds. 

Look at that outfit. Where the heck did he do his shopping and how did he afford that?

This story is divided into three parts. We’ve reached the first part. (It’s a big issue) 

Part I: First Clash. 

Now, full of evidence of Cranston's misdeeds, he runs for mayor. 

Back at Grant Mansion, we find Moon Knight in a mood. 

"Sometimes I wonder about this whole myth of Moon Knight and--" 

Marlene interrupts his thoughts. 

"Steven, wait! I've got something to tell you... Something I've got to get off my chest..." 

"Some other time, Marlene. It's getting dark. Time for me to take off. Crime waits for no man, you know." 

"Yes, Steven I know... But I don't know...how long I can wait for you." 

Marelene watches him leave in tears. 

Recall the last issue where Moon Knight was questioning if he was doing the right thing. Doubt and moral ambiguity have come across his mind and Marelene is still wondering at the loss of her own brother. 

At the political headquarters, we see Black Spectre crashing Cranston's party. 

"I'm announcing my support for the mayoral candidacy of Carson Knowles." 

Which...seems in poor taste if he is trying to win. 

"And you had better do the same if you care about things like your future." 

"I heard about you. Been makin' waves in the other parts of town. But you don't scare me with that Halloween outfit!" Cranston is pretty cheeky for a man going down in flames. 

Black Spectre threatens to put Cranston into jail and blackmails him over some of his more nefarious deeds. 

While they trash the joint, one of Cranston's men gets away to call the police. Frenchie picks up the call on his radio and informs Moon Knight. 

About time they were introduced. 

Both these men are former military. Both have undergone the same training. 

Black Spectre has the advantage here through knowing he’s going to fight hard and fast from the start. Moon Knight is used to having to pull his punches. He’s also fresh off a few cases where he has started to question his own brutality and is trying to separate himself from Marc Spector. Moon Knight absolutely is at a disadvantage here. 

By this time the police have arrived and Black Spectre isn't willing to show that hand yet. 

Moon Knight knows he's beat. He admits he wasn't expecting anything like Spectre. 

In a last ditch effort, he rips the mask from Black Spectre's face. 

Spectre lashes back. 

"You're a fool and a weakling, Moon Knight! I'd expected the match of a lifetime from you--But you're no better than a common grunt!" 

And now we have our favorite Moon man doing what he does best: 

Who ever said he didn’t have a sense of humor? 

So they go inside and find Cranston beaten to a pulp in a trashed room pretending nothing happened. 

Back at Grand Mansion... Yeah he's not having a good time. 

If Marc ever had a tantrum this would be it. 

"Only four of them! And they beat me! It's insane! Ludicrous! I should have been able to crush them--twist them into pretzels--and waltz home to an early shower! Three of them were nothing but cheap hoods! The kind of brittle stuff I normally chop down with one hand! 

Oh sure, the fourth one--the one who called himself Black Spectre--He was a tough nut, all right--but even HE could have been cracked, if only I'd approached it differently--Hit him quicker, Harder!" 

Narration: "Frenchie bites his tongue at seven separate pauses in the tirade." 

Frenchie knows better. He knows his friend. He knows Marc. And THIS is Marc. This is what Marc does. He's seen it before. 

Narration: "Marlene, However, has never been big on self inflicted torment. She does not like what she sees in the man she loves, and she tries to say so." 

"Steven..." 

"And even if I couldn't beat him--I should've at least been able to protect myself!" 

"Steven, I want to talk to you...About something important. In private." 

"Not now, Marlene. I'm still too twisted by what happened to me. Maybe tomorrow." 

"Of course, Steven... if tomorrow isn't too late." 

Marc is doing what Marc does best. Avoidance and running away. 

He continues his tirade to Frenchie. 

"I was awful--A disgrace! A rank amateur! I deserved the thrashing I got! But if only I had gone in feinting the left and then-- Wait a minute Frenchie. What did she say?" 

But it's too late. 

Morning comes and we find him still sulking but a little less dramatic about it. 

He checks the morning news and listens to news about the political race for mayor. 

Knowles gives his speech and comments that it was Moon Knight that inspired him to try to make a change. 

Marc can't believe his eyes as he recognizes the man behind the podium. 

It's the face he saw before he got his ass kicked! 

And like a flash, Jake is dressed and running out of the mansion. 

"Nedda-You know where Marlene is? I didn't see her all night." 

"No, master Steven-Or master Jake I guess you are now being. I think Marlene is having a need to be alone these days of late..." 

(Why is Nedda the only one that really tries to get their names right?) 

He muses as he drives his cab to Gena's diner: "Wonder if there's something really wrong with Marlene? Maybe she... But no time to worry about it now--Not with a good like Black Spectre running for mayor!" 

Even Jake knows something is wrong but there is a push systemwide not to confront things like this. They'd rather go face thugs than a possible issue at home. 

At the diner, Jake speaks to Crawley to find what he's heard. Crawley has of course heard things and talks about what he knows about Knowles. 

Sounds like Knowles is a shoe in to win the race for mayor. 

Jake takes off to his cab. Gena notes how Jake didn't even ask her how she or her kids were doing. 

Lockley heads to the political headquarters. 

Inside we find Cranston on the phone telling someone not to mess around with Black Spectre. 

Jake eaves drops through an open window. 

Cranston is talking to a guy named Chiodo. Warning him that Black Spectre is going to come rattle him next. 

Jake decides to go check out this Chiodo character. 

Black Spectre is already at Chiodo's waiting. Hesitating. 

A last moment of "the old, submerged Carson Knowles now struggles to break the surface... A last spark of sanity" 

He waits by a window. "Sure, life's a crock--but maybe I shouldn't make it worse... Maybe I'm not the only one done dirt by this city. Maybe we're all in the same boat together..." 

And he watches an ant struggle to haul food and he likens himself and the city to a bunch of ants just working to bring home dinner. 

And of course a spider runs up and eats the ant. 

"Of course--Survival of the fittest--Just like in The Nam-- The prime rule--The only one that counts -- Kill or be killed!" 

So he busts into Chiodo's place. He warns him to support Carson Knowles for mayor or else. 

Chiodo refuses and Black Spectre decides to make an example out of him. 

Meanwhile, Jake arrives in his cab. "No time to change to Moon Knight. Chiodo may already be in danger! Black Spectre--Darting out the back! But he's got too much of a jump on me and--" 

He spots Chiodo, hanging by his chains. 

Back at Grant Mansion. 

"I've GOT to talk to you, Steven--And not later, not tomorrow or the next day, not even yesterday. Right NOW, Steven." Marlene is trying again. 

"But I ain't Steven, Lady--I'm still Lockley, on the job. Can't it even wait till I at least change to--" 

"NO! This is exactly what I must talk to you about!" 

Now, this is going to get heavy. This is where Marlene’s support falls apart. 

"Oh, I know you've largely overcome your split personality problem--You're just upset right now--But there are other things forcing me to do this Steven..." 

"To do what?" 

"I...I'm leaving you, Steven." 

First of all... He's told her that he's Jake. And Marc is the one avoiding her. And Jake has always avoided her. 

She's been through a lot with the death of her father and brother. Perhaps she sees that being near them does cause trouble. Perhaps she is tired of dealing with the four of them. 

This leads us to Part II: Sinking. 

We open on Marlene. 

"I realize I was instrumental in the very creation of Moon Knight--Helped you change into what you are, from Villain to hero--But I... Well, I just can't shake the feeling that I've created a monster... A benign monster to be sure. A good monster...A better man than Marc Spector ever was... but a monster nonetheless..." 

That is a hell of a jab. And considering that Marlene’s brother created Morpheus and then died for it, maybe she’s afraid of losing Steven too. 

Marlene has always made it very clear that she was never a fan of Marc Spector. She wishes he’d go away and she’d be left with Steven. Perhaps she was originally charmed by Moon Knight and the thrill of adventure, but with so much death, she wants to settle. 

It’s also difficult because we know that Marc sees himself as a monster. 

"...An entity that's grown larger than both of us, a being that's gone completely out of control!" She continues. 

Is Jake still fronting? 

"All right, Lady, maybe you're right--Maybe you DO need a vacation from me--and maybe I need a vacation from Moon Knight... But not now. I can't quit now--Not with Black Spectre ready to put a stranglehold on the whole city! And you can't leave me now--not when I need you!" 

"I've made up my mind, Steven. Don't you see--? There'll always be some excuse for me to stay--And if I don't make the break now, I'll never do it." 

I think Marc is slipping in. 

"No--You don't understand. I don't need you for moral support now..." 

"Of course not. You're a big tough man." 

"Spare the sarcasm, Marlene--Please. What I mean is that I need you to literally HELP me. I want you to infiltrate Carson Knowles' operation--I want you to spy on him for me." 

Yeah, that's Marc. 

She accuses him of being on an insane kick thinking that Carson is Black Spectre. 

He begs her to help him. 

"Please -- Just do this one last thing for me and I'll never ask anything again unless you want me to...and if I'm wrong, I won't even argue as you walk out the door." 

Marc... 

She agrees to help him. They hug but he doesn't feel it. 

He calls up Frenchie to get a car and go get Crawley and find out if he's found out any news. 

Frenchie meets up with Crawley at the Pool Hall. He offers him a drink, but Crawley notes he gave up the drink ages ago. 

Remember in an early issue when he lost his family because of his drinking and gambling. Notably, he lost his son, too. 

Now, Frenchie is there in his full outfit. It's a classy outfit with a cap and a crecent moon on the cap. 

He has always worn this while acting as piolet to Moon Knight and I often wonder why. Did he choose it? Did it make him feel useful and important again? 

Either way, Frenchie has the unfortunate time to be in the same pool hall as Black Spectre's goons. 

They sneak up and beat him. 

Jake arrives at the hospital the next morning. 

Frenchie warns him to watch himself when facing these men and that they are in league with Black Spectre. 

Jake leaves. 

"Maybe Marlene was right --Lord knows everyone connected with Moon Knight has suffered...And more than once..." 

This is not the first or last time that this thought will affect the Moon Knight team. 

Jake doesn't have long to dwell on it as the cab phone starts to ring. 

It's Marlene. She's made it as a personal assistant to Knowles. She talks about how Knowles is a good man that genuinely wants to help change the city for the better. 

Jake is stunned. He starts to doubt himself. 

"Am I wrong? No, by Khonshu I know what I saw!" 

On que a cab drives by and splashes him with drity gutter water. 

It's the last straw. The whole city is falling for Knowles. He decides that he needs to start fighting fire with fire. 

Moon Knight has called a press conference! 

This is going to go well...

So he starts his speech by just telling everyone that Black Spectre is Carson Knowles. 

It goes about as well as you can imagine. 

No one believes him and he's called a lunatic. 

Cut to Knowles and Marlene watching the conference on TV. He's gotten chummy with Marlene and he shrugs it off saying he isn't worried. He invites Marlene to dinner with him that night. After she leaves, he makes a few phone calls. He needs to take care of the Moon Knight problem. He calls in some cops that are on his payroll. 

Meanwhile, Flint finds Moon Knight wandering the streets. He picks him up. 

"Look, if you say Knowles is no good, I'm on your side. Me, I've never seen a guy running for office who was good. But Knowles has connections. Cops in his pocket. Not all cops, mind you. I'm a cop myself. A real cop. That's why I'm warning you. They're after you. The ones who only wear the badges. But even that isn't fair. Some of them will believe, even as they squeeze the trigger, that they're doing something good." 

Flint does care about Moon Knight. 

Moon Knight thanks him and heads for his own cab. He's about to get in when several cops show up and start shooting. 

He manages to get away and make it back to Grant Mansion in time to find Marlene packed and leaving. 

"I can't read the future, Steven. You made a perfect fool of yourself in front of those cameras. Why couldn't you believe me that you're wrong?" 

"Why can't YOU believe ME? The cops just tried to kill me. Frenchie's busted up in the hospital. The election is no contest, in favor of a guy who came from nowhere...[...] And now he's even got you, Marlene. He's got the people, the press, the city bosses, the cops and now you. Wake up, Marlene! I tell you he's out to shaft the whole city!" 

"YOU wake up! I was wrong about you! You're still crazy--But I'm not letting you take me along for the ride! You've slandered a good man, Steven. You'll regret it." 

And Marlene leaves. 

This is a rough issue to paint Marlene in any sort of good light. 

And here we have Moon Knight once more clinging to the statue of Khonshu as if he can fix everything if he just tries hard enough. 

Part III: The Climb Back. 

Part three opens on a political rally. Knowles is soaking in the crowed chanting his name and he invites Marlene to enjoy it with him. 

She decides to stay behind and he heads out to enjoy the night. 

She has been looking for invoices for rally expenses but can't see to find them. She decides to check his office. 

While searching, she comes across his budget plans. 

Seems he plans to cut out public works, slash transit funds, remove housing funds, and put all the tax revenues into his own personal account. 

Well well well, Marlene. Who's the crazy nut now? 

Up on the roof, Knowles is enjoying the view of the crowd. 

Moon Knight arrives off to the side and doesn't see him. Knowles decides tonight is the perfect night to win the city and destroy Moon Knight. 

Moon Knight is still sore from all the recent wounds he has sustained. But he has a new weapon. He has his own knuckle spikes (which make a later appearance in much later comics from the early 2000s). 

And Black Spectre sneaks up on Moon Knight and attacks from behind. 

Black Spectre is in no mood to take his time. He has a rally to get to. He stabs Moon Knight with his sword. 

He leaves Moon Knight for dead and changes for the rally. 

Moon Knight pulls himself up. 

"C-Can't let him...win... Fought long and hard to make myself something better...Can't throw it away....Got to prove it...By stopping him..." 

Moon Knight bursts into the changing room. He gets a little brutal. He stops the goons with his spiked fists and tackles Knowles out of a window. 

They crash into the crowd below. 

"You want Knowles? You want tis piece of slime? Well here he is. And you can have him!" 

ANd he throws Knowles' body, unmasked and still in the Spectre attire into the crowd. 

Yeah, this goes well for the cops and guards. 

Flint tells him that this doesn't prove anything. 

But Marlene steps in to show him the paperwork. 

She runs to Moon Knight. 

"I'm back...If you'll have me." 

"I'll have you--If you're back." 

Flint declares Moon Knight innocent as he looks through the papers and sets out to arrest Knowles. 

"But, Steven, there are still problems we have to-" 

"I know, Marlene--There are always problems...But I can't think of any I'd rather face." 

Narration: "Indeed. He has scars of his own...."

And that is the BLACK SPECTRE. 

You can see why he became an iconic Moon Knight villain. His ability to push him to the breaking point by gaslighting the hell out of him was really quite effective. 

This issue brings up a lot of questions and issues that start to plague Moon Knight in the original 80s OG run and much later by other writers. Some take it to the extreme and others take it in a completely different direction. 

I’m going to try to just focus on how it’s presented right here in the 80s version with no outside context from other issues. 

Still rattled after the death of Marlene’s brother. Still upset over the fight with Stained Glass Scarlet where he let her kill a man and then escape. Still reeling from the realization that Moon Knight is not just Marc or Steven or Jake, but might actually be his own person (though at times there is blending that happens). 

We are faced with the question on if the creation of Moon Knight is a blessing or a curse. Is Moon Knight only there to exist as Marc Spector’s attempt to become more than an evil stain on the world? Is Moon Knight an excuse to let Marc keep fighting and causing pain? Is Moon Knight an apology from Marc to the world? 

Is Moon Knight putting others at risk that know him? 

We see Frenchie standing by Marc. Always by Marc. Loyal and willing to sacrifice himself for him. Why the uniform? Why living on the roof? Why always at beck and call? What is Frenchie getting out of this? He has ended up hurt in the hospital more than a few times. Still he stands loyal. 

Still he stands silent. Letting Marc put himself down and rip himself apart. 

We see a huge part of Marc’s self destruction here. How easy it is to make him feel worthless. How quickly he falls to wanting to destroy someone for getting the upper hand. 

Not to mention him running from Marlene. He knows what she wants to talk about. He avoids it. Jake avoids it but worries. Steven doesn’t even show up. He knows she wants to leave him and if he just avoids the conversation perhaps it won’t happen. Or maybe it will push her to do it and he can say of course she left. 

And when she does leave, he doesn’t feel it. He is so focused on his goal of victory and revenge that he doesn’t notice or care. A coping mechanism. Someone so used to the pain of loss that he knows if he can just do this one thing then it doesn’t matter. 

Then we have Marlene’s excuse for leaving. Because he’s crazy. Because he has DID and can’t control it. Because he dares to be Marc Spector and not Steven Grant. 

I can’t with her. It’s…. It’s hard to blame her considering the age. Considering what she’s living with. It’s not all luxury and happiness. She has her stress and she is in denial over the man she thinks she loves. But she is so ableist and just so abusive in these moments. 

She blames him for his mental illness. She blames him for leaning into it. She thinks he does it just to be Moon Knight. Perhaps she thinks that if he tried hard enough he could be just the one person named Steven Grant that lives a happy and rich life. She thinks that they can choose her over their mental illness. And I have a lot of issue with that. 

So Marlene will stick around. And pull away and come back. She supports and she breaks them apart. It’s a cycle that grows over time until finally it’s broken. But getting there… This is not a healthy relationship. 

Then we have Marc and Khonshu. 

We’ve seen it before when he fought Mogart and the statue was broken. He broke down big time. 

Here we see him clinging to the statue. Begging it. Begging himself to find a way to keep going and to win. 

This would be a VERY long post if I got into the faith of Marc Spector (not the system as a whole or even as Moon Knight. Marc Spector himself). But a tiny tidbit of my theories on that are seen in him clinging to the statue and pleading with himself to win. 

Himself. Not Khonshu in particular. We start to see how his belief and faith in Khonshu is intertwined in his own faith in himself. 

Despite it all, Marc can never forget his upbringing. He will always be the rebellious boy at the Rabbi’s table, rejecting passive peace and struggling against G-D. 

And we’ll get more into his relationship with Khonshu later as his role starts to grow in the comics. 

SO. This concludes the Black Spectre! (for now).

What did you all think of this issue? 

#Moon Knight #Moon Knight Comics #Analyzing the comics #Marc Spector #Jake Lockley #Steven Grant #Marlene Alraune #Black Spectre #Gaslighting is Moon Knight's weakness #In this issue we watch Marc have a tantrum #Live Reaction by Frenchie #He ends up on the floor so much

[talesofoldandnew]

Runaway (modern!HOTD): chapter 3

Summary: Growing up to be Helaena Targaryen's best friend naturally meant to become friends with her brothers as well, especially Aemond. Since your early childhood you spent more time at the Targaryen household than at your own home. Always on the road with your mother and your younger brother you never settled anywhere, always seeming to run away from something, until you finally moved to King's Landing and everything felt right for the first time in years.

But some things unfortunately never change and at the age of 13 you see yourself forced to move away once more.

7 years later you come back to King's Landing, facing truths and feelings long buried..

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Chapter warnings: none, just Aemond being as awkward as ever

It's been 3 days since college started and Aemond had been avoiding you at all cost, despite being in the same class as you. Everytime you looked at him he was trying to look away as if his life depended on it. After class ended you looked at him one last time and sighed.

You decided to spend your lunch break outdoors, sitting under a big oak tree, reading a book and enjoying the sun when suddenly a shadow layed over you.

You looked up and almost felt like fainting again "My brother definitely didn't hallucinate. It's you.." you heard the soft female voice which belonged to no other than Helaena Targaryen. You got up so quickly, you almost bumped onto your arse again at the speed "Helaena I.." but your voice betrayed you. And then you cried, you cried all the unshed tears of the last 7 years and you still didn't stop when you felt Helaena's arms around you, pulling you into the tightest hug. "You d-do n-not h-hate me?" you hiccuped with every word and looked at her in disbelief. Helaena smiled softly at you, that beloved smile she shared with you from the first day you met so many years ago. "How could I ever hate you, you dork?" she said with a chuckle and you couldn't help but smile. "But Aemond he.." Helaena rolled her eyes "Aemond has always been rather..dramatic. He was shocked, to say the least..but he could never hate you either. There barely was a day the past 7 years where he did not blabber about you" Helaena said in her typical sing-song tone and you felt a blush creep at your cheeks. He talked about you? He did not hate you? You remembered the look on his face just three days ago and couldn't quite believe Helaena's words and she seemed to see straight through you "I know he made quite a scene the other day, but believe me, I know my brother. He is just as happy as I am to have you back. You are his soft spot" she said with that soft smile of hers and you could feel your eyes fill with tears again while your cheeks heated up slightly at her last words.

The rest of the week went by in a haze. You still couldn't quite believe that you were back. Back to your old life, back with your best friend. "And Aegon moved out to do what?" you asked with wide eyes "Touring with his band. Said he wanted to live his life first of all and wants to explore the world and then he just left. Imagine the mental breakdown mom just had" Helaena giggled and you chuckled. Aegon had always been quite the libertine, just doing whatever came to his mind, much to the dismay of his mother.

You learned that their dad had died two years ago and how much they would have loved to invite you to the funeral but there was just no way to reach you.

"And my mom is keeping something from me. She always has, I think. She talks about protecting me but everytime I ask her about it she avoids my questions" you said with a frown and a sigh left your lips. Helaena's brows furrowed slightly but she remained silent only humming in response as if she didn't quite know what to say.

"We are going home this weekend to visit mom and her new..boyfriend" Helaena said and slightly scrunched up her nose when saying the last word which made you laugh "Awe come on, he can't be too bad. Good that your mom found someone" you said and nudged her shoulder lightly "I mean yea..Criston is allright, he really cares a lot about mom and about Aemond and me. Talking about the devil.." she said with a smirk and you turned around just to look directly into Aemond's face "Just been talking to mom on the phone, she said she expects us for dinner tonight" Aemond said, trying not to look at you the whole time he spoke. You felt a slight sting into your heart. "Well greetings to your mom. I think I should go..not wanting to distract you from important things" you said and got up but Helaena grabbed your hand softly "I bet mom would be delighted to see you after all these years" she said with a soft smile and you couldn't help but smile back. Aemond huffed slightly in the background and you turned to look at him "You know what Hel? I think you're right. I'd love to see Alicent after all these years" you said, all the while looking at Aemond while he was now finally staring back at you with an unreadable face.

"She will be so happy. Let's make it a surprise" Helaena cheered and basically jumped up and down like a little kid on christmas day.

"Imma start packing.." Aemond murmured and started to walk away when you basically jogged after him. He turned around slightly and you could almost feel his eyeroll "What do you want y/n?" he said in an annoyed tone and you walked straight into his way, making it impossible for him to escape. You remembered the day you parted, the awkwardness of the moment and how he did the most unexpected thing of all. And then you just hugged him. You felt him stiffen up, as per usual, but you couldn't care less and after a moment you felt him giving in. You stayed like this for god knows how long until you finally parted and you smiled up at him softly "I really missed you" you said and he looked at you with that unreadable face again, until his eye caught the bee pendant laying above your chest "You're still wearing it.." he said so quietly that only you could hear it "Of course I do. I never took it off, not even for one day" you basically whispered back and it felt like time stopped in that moment. You could feel the warmth radiating from his body, his gaze as intense as ever. "I.." he started when Helaena joined the two of you out of basically nowhere making you both jump slightly. "Okay I will start packing now. You coming y/n?" she said as cheerfully as ever and Aemond audibly cleared his throat, making Helaena look from you to Aemond and back. "Uhm..yeah I am coming with you" you said, your voice hoarse and week. Helaena grabbed your hand and basically pulled you with her, all the while blabbering cheerfully about anything and nothing. You turned around once more, Aemond still frozen in his spot, looking at you until you walked around the corner and you couldn't see him anymore.

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If you want to be tagged pls let me know :)

TAGLIST:

@khaleesimel @lovelykhaleesiii @ripdragonbeans @ailurophilezs

#house of the dragon #modern!hotd #modern!aemond #modern aemond #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x you #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon fanfic #aemond targaryen fanfic #fanfic #ewan mitchell

[aidoftheservant]

Lament of Xuan Zhen

Some four hundred years after his ascension, the Middle Court finally noticed the morose ritual that overtook some villages in the Southwest once every few years. The people would avoid certain shrines, dress in white, and mostly spend their days in solitude, embrace whatever regrets they may have, and abandon their wits through alcohol come dusk.

It was such a strange celebration—strange because it was considered a celebration at all—that it took another century for the literature gods to officially associate the event with Xuan Zhen’s descent, which always occurred at the same time.

Mu Qing is a ruthless official in the celestial court. So much so that he schedules his breakdowns to take place away from the other gods.

Mortals are the first to notice, followed by the heavens, and then Xie Lian learns that Mu Qing is to blame for the renowned day of mental anguish.

Read on AO3 + view warnings/tags Keep reading for full fic on Tumblr.

Gods often have a plethora of associations. One of General Xuan Zhen’s lesser known attributes was that of lament.

It wasn’t something widely known or even acknowledged. It was more of a cultish belief than a generally accepted gnosis. However, Xuan Zhen never corrected it, which he is known to do if something ever displeases his character, so the association had some loose validity.

Some four hundred years after his ascension, the Middle Court finally noticed the morose ritual that overtook some villages in the Southwest once every few years. The people would avoid certain shrines, dress in white, and mostly spend their days in solitude, embrace whatever regrets they may have, and abandon their wits through alcohol come dusk.

It was such a strange celebration—strange because it was considered a celebration at all—that it took another century for the literature gods to officially associate the event with Xuan Zhen’s descent, which always occurred at the same time.

It wasn’t that the general broke the laws of the heavens. He never appeared before a mortal and always secluded himself in abandoned shrines. But the sheer waves of maddening grief that only increased as he rose to higher positions of power did cause some whispers of discontent among the gods of the heavens.

Because when the people were too engulfed in waves of sorrow, they increased their efforts to appease their martial god with greater boons and prayers, abandoning their local and major shrines temporarily.

So, though the event, as it were, wasn’t ground for reprimand, it certainly caused grievances among the southern gods.

The cultish practice was at least contained within a minor area and only lasted a single day, so the gods couldn’t lose face by complaining too much. Even if more devoted pilgrims would travel to these villages for the celebration specifically.

It was also good that the general refrained from tainting the heavens with such foul tension, so everyone begrudgingly let it be.

Xie Lian was a little surprised when he heard Ling Wen mention the celebration. He had heard of it; he had collected scraps in the area after all, but he had always fled far away long before the day arrived. He never attended.

But he still bit his lip as Ling Wen, per his request, dutifully recited some specifics about the rituals being performed that day. Xie Lian had avoided so much information about the event that it had entirely escaped him that the day was associated with Mu Qing. It didn’t immediately make sense to him, and Ling Wen only shrugged when she was questioned.

Ling Wen was cordial with most heaven officials, and this included Mu Qing. She was aloof and refused to say anything on the matter that was not confirmed.

The next person he approached for information would usually be San Lang. But as he walked to descend the heavens, he instead found himself in front of General Nan Yang’s palace.

The attendees easily allowed Xie Lian to enter, as they made him wait in a comfortable room while someone fetched their general.

Feng Xin entered the room with a solemn expression. Though his disposition toward Xie Lian was warm, Xie Lian wasn’t blind to the hesitation that he saw in the man’s eyes at that moment. “Your Highness,” he said.

Xie Lian smiled sheepishly and greeted him in return. Feng Xin definitely wasn’t pleased to see him, and it made Xie Lian regret coming over.

“It’s about the festival, right?” Feng Xin waited a moment before taking a seat in front of Xie Lian. A servant had silently served tea and left the moment the general entered the room.

“... I was unaware of it until just a few moments ago.” Xie Lian finally managed to say.  What happened  ? he wanted to ask.  Why is Mu Qing’s grief a source of both veneration and celebration? What did he grieve so much over that it was an event?  

Feng Xin looked him in the eyes for a moment before lowering his gaze. Even now, the habit of treating the Crown Prince with a respectful distance remains in their interactions. It made Xie Lian miss Nan Feng, who was much more likely to be free around him.

Nan Feng was free of the past in a way that Feng Xin never will be.

Xie Lian closed his eyes as he let out a breath. He always avoided the celebrations in the regions because of his own regrets. He feared being in the presence of a mourning heavenly official would set him off. To think that it was Mu Qing, of all people, who caused the commotion was uncomfortable.

Feng Xin was never afraid to be loud if he so desired. His actions, in turn, could be equally loud. So to have the man drink the tea while seated as stiff as a proper general with his expression carefully neutral, it made Xie Lian want to claw at his own seat from the anxiety it caused.

Xie Lian kept smiling, with a tad of appropriate sadness. Like he was discussing the regrettable but unavoidable passing of a beloved pet.

Feng Xin sighed into his cup. “Right,” he said.  Because you’ve been gone so long, there is no way you are aware of every official’s oddity around here , is what he didn’t say. Xie Lian heard it anyway.

The general continued, “There’s really not much to say.” He frowned before schooling his expression back into neutrality. “Mu Qing descends to the mortal realm, stays there for a day, and then returns. The heavens hardly notice nowadays.” The frown returned, and Feng Xin’s efforts to smooth it out were unsuccessful.

"After all, even if he disappears for a moment, Xuan Zhen is never late to fulfill his duties," Feng Xin explains. “So who could complain?”

Xie Lian blinked at that. “How could they?” he wondered. “In a single day, work can’t pile up to the extent that it warrants complaining.”

“It can,” Feng Xin grumbled, his tone turning somewhat bitter. “Because on this day specifically, everyone sends in all their piling-up requests and minor inconveniences to Xuan Zhen’s palace. The paperwork would set the establishment back for a while if it weren’t for Xuan Zhen Jiang Jun’s tireless efforts to settle all matters within their deadlines.”

It wasn’t uncommon for gods to forgo rest so they could attend to their duties. It happened often enough and was treated as a matter of course for most.

But the idea that officials would put a greater burden on Mu Qing on the day that the mortals below  celebrated  his  mourning  seemed downright cruel. Xie Lian winced from it, and his eyes remained squinted shut for a brief moment.

He tried not to think about how Feng Xin may or may not have participated in this act of disdain, and he feared to ask. Feng Xin’s distant, painful expression said enough.

But, “I fear Mu Qing is rather shunned,” Xie Lian still let slip.

Feng Xin tilted his head a bit, alerting that he disagreed with Xie Lian and was debating on how to bring the news.

Xie Lian smiled wryly again. He missed Nan Feng.

“Not more so than plenty others,” Feng Xin hedged vaguely. He shook his head, thinking better of it. “Socially, he is disliked,” he corrected himself. “Professionally, he is seen as reliable. Truly, this tradition was once started to force him to refrain from causing a ruckus in the southern regions, but now it’s almost a day of convenience to the heavens.”

Mu Qing always had been disagreeable, and Xie Lian had equally always found great comfort in allowing the servant to take care of various tasks that sometimes were or weren’t appropriate for Mu Qing’s low upbringing.

In the Upper Court, Mu Qing was the same. Disliked by his peers, but undeniably capable.

Xie Lian always regarded that part of Mu Qing with anguish. He had hoped the boy would warm up to someone. If not for him, then maybe he’d be friends with Feng Xin. It was partially his intention back then, and it had begun to work. Before everything.

They were immortal, but that never meant that time was on their side. Even now, amidst all the turmoil, Feng Xin and Mu Qing mostly kept each other at arm’s length unless they hit one another.

Xie Lian tried to make himself as small a part of their lives as possible, so to catch himself going to Feng Xin for some support for something he himself didn’t understand felt wrong.

But San Lang couldn’t fix his problems here, just like Xie Lian could do little to alleviate San Lang’s burdens but simply be there for him.

Xie Lian couldn’t help his smile from saddening even more. He had San Lang now, at least. But neither Feng Xin nor Mu Qing seemed close with anyone except maybe the officials under their care.

“I went once,” Feng Xin said suddenly. He spoke quickly, as though he had meant to say it for a long time. He spoke without hesitation or breaks, as though it had been rehearsed. “Mu Qing selects a shrine at random and stays there for the day. His presence scares everyone off, but the village nearby would see it as a blessing to be chosen.”

Feng Xin glaringly failed to mention  why  he decided to go in the first place.

“I never saw or heard him. I didn’t approach.” Feng Xin’s expression soured to something close to anger. “As the legends go, Xuan Zhen Jiang Jun’s misery is enough to drive people mad if they come too close. They say one cultivator lost his mind for close to a year before he returned to his senses.”

Xie Lian drank his tea and said nothing.

So, Feng Xin continued unprompted. “The day is celebrated because the lands of the surrounding shrine were miraculously left fertile. They say that the general does this because he is grateful for the people's hospitality. Naturally, many of the shrines have since moved to secluded areas near farms for that reason. In the case that the general comes to their village’s shrine, the following harvest is guaranteed to be bountiful.”

Feng Xin muttered a curse under his breath and looked away. “The gall of that man.”

Xie Lian understood the anger and helplessness so apparent in Feng Xin’s expression.

After all, Mu Qing was not a god of the earth and couldn’t bless the land with fertility. The reason the land sprang to life was because a heavenly official had left some of their spiritual essence behind.

A bit of blood would usually not have that effect. Mu Qing, however, was an impressive cultivator in his mortal life, and as a martial god, he still kept to his vows. Though Mu Qing was a martial god, it couldn’t be forgotten that he was also one of the greatest cultivators of the heavens.

With that in mind, if a little more of this spiritual essence was left behind, it’s not impossible for it to affect the lands around it.

And if Mu Qing’s grief was as oppressive to the mind as Feng Xin implied, then it was also not unimaginable that some blood would be spilled while the god was in solitude.

Of course , this explained why Mu Qing’s grief was so celebrated. It explained why the people would send extra prayers of gratitude to a martial god instead of the gods that protected their lands and brought the rain.

Of course , this is why the gods would be displeased and bully Mu Qing on this day. Only for them to turn around and find the situation not entirely unpleasant when they’re appeased by Xuan Zhen’s efficiency.

Xie Lian had finished his cup but brought it to his lips again anyway. If only so, he’d have just another moment where he wouldn’t have to speak.

Eventually, he could only sigh. “I see.”

The years passed by without Xie Lian thinking much of the celebration in the Southwest. He speaks somewhat regularly with Mu Qing now, like he does with Feng Xin.

Sometimes he’d risk meeting with both Feng Xin and Mu Qing in a shared space. The attempts left him less likely to risk it again, but sometimes fate worked against his wishes. No matter how large the lands or how vast the heavens, they always met one another on a narrow road.  

Feng Xin and Mu Qing both visited Xie Lian. On rare occasions, they’d end up visiting on the same day. Their interactions could be as simple as stiff greetings or exchanging information that rarely necessitates a face-to-face meeting.

Feng Xin and Mu Qing had taken it upon themselves to keep Xie Lian in touch with Heaven's business so that future meetings would go smoother than the ones before.

Once more, Xie Lian relied on them to keep him informed. He was grateful, but none of them could simply let kindness go. Every word, every silence, was loaded with grievances and hurts that not even centuries could dull.  

Theirs was a tentative peace that reeked of things left unsaid and opportunities lost to time. Xie Lian wasn’t yet entirely sure if their situation was beneficial for any of them.

He would be happier if he could forget they existed, but the thought of never seeing them again was unbearable.

San Lang sat with him on days when Xie Lian would rather run away from these remnants of his past. It wasn’t ideal. Hua Cheng had his own pains associated with the generals, especially Mu Qing.

Xie Lian would sometimes refuse San Lang’s offer to come along. Both because an argument would become inevitable and because Xie Lian refused to become a package-deal.

San Lang found the idea very amusing but easily took it in stride. Xie Lian wasn’t as likely to simply disappear from his life as he used to be.

He did offer to become his package-deal often enough, which helped Xie Lian feel lighter each time.

Their peace was put to the test when Feng Xin showed up in the same manner as usual. But when he opened the door to his shrine to welcome him in, Xie Lian had to do a double-take.

Feng Xin wasn't disguised aside from masking his spiritual presence, but the simple white robes he wore made him look so wrong that Xie Lian didn't recognize him for a terrifying moment.

"I'm going," Feng Xin said.

Talking was something the three of them had started to learn to do more often, but it was true that some things didn't need to be said aloud.

Xie Lian smiled with sorrow. He stepped out and closed the door behind him. He didn’t need to prepare; he always wore white, after all.

Even with the short distance teleportation talismans, Xie Lian and Feng Xin only arrived at the correct village when the sun hung low in the sky.

The villagers indeed all wore white, so for once, Xie Lian didn’t stand out.

The robes were modest, some already dirty at the bottom from walking over the sand roads.

Xie Lian immediately noticed the discrepancies between reality and hearsay.

All the tales he heard from Ling Wen said the celebration was quite beloved and sought after by cultivators.

As if reading his mind, Feng Xin let out a bit of a wheeze. “Mu Qing chooses the village he goes to on a whim. Locals know their village is chosen when shrine owners inexplicably have tears running down their faces as they go about their duties.”

Xie Lian sighs. He didn’t like it. Not for the first time, he wondered what Mu Qing was up to with all of this. In a way, it was a relief that the south saw this spiritual torture as a blessing, but Xie Lian still felt conflicted.  

“If it’s any consolation,” Feng Xin added with a scratch to his chin. “It’s seen as sort of a comedic thing. None of the owners described feeling sad.”

Though this day was meant to observe General Xuan Zhen’s lament, it was impossible to keep children from running in the streets in their mourning robes, toys in their hands, and laughing loudly.

Parents huddled together, watching their children with some exasperated amusement. They will have to wash their robes when the day is over.

When they disparaged, they hung their heads low. They were acting properly morose. Truly, it was just a ceremony before they got to drinking tonight, after the children were put to bed and had fallen asleep.

Feng Xin and Xie Lian entered an inn, and they weren’t alone. Celebratory intoxication would start at dusk, but the place was already lively with the unmarried. Young men and women who didn’t have many responsibilities or were already done with their tasks were now free for the rest of the day.

They still wore their mourning clothes, but they seemed eager to be done with that part of the ceremony.

“This doesn’t seem like such a grieving event,” Xie Lian commented.

“No,” Feng Xin criticized. “It’s all decorative.”

But when they sat at a table and the owner asked if he could provide them with anything, their confusion was cleared.

“Oh, Daozhang!” The owner respectfully addressed them both. “I fear this must seem disrespectful to you. Truly, we mean no offense.”

The man gestured vaguely. “The mourning is done near the shrine. That’s where the devout are, and that's where cultivators like yourself usually gather. If they find the right town on time,” he added sheepishly. Then he shook his head. “Us commoners with nothing to add to the grief shouldn’t be there. We’d taint it with our insincerity. Xuan Zhen Jiang Jun allows us to express our pretense in the comfort of our own hometown. Very gracious,” he praised.

Feng Xin ordered some local dishes for both of them. Xie Lian had long since forgone any sense of embarrassment over having someone pay for him and gratefully thanked him.

“That settles it, then,” Xie Lian said lightly. “We missed the genuine ceremony. This is for the people to end the day on a brighter note.” Out of habit, Xie Lian mentally tutted at his own bad luck that he felt caused their delays.

“It would seem so,” Feng Xin said, unknowingly agreeing with Xie Lian’s hilarity.

They silently agreed that trying to go into mourning now would be a wasted effort. It was already dusk, and the villagers without children started their first round with a cheer.

“Weird, now that I think about it.” Feng Xin watched the men and women make merry. These people had obviously grown up together, as tight-knit as they seemed. “That Mu Qing would have them drink,” he elaborated.

Xie Lian almost chuckled. Then he remembered that Mu Qing had been a bit flustered the last time Xie Lian laughed when he was around and decided to honor that. Xie Lian raised his voice and laughed softly.

Feng Xin also had a funny response to that. His scrunched up nose brought back a memory that Xie Lian could almost describe as warm, if not for the undertone of regret that just didn’t seem to leave him alone.

“Feng Xin,” Xie Lian smiled into his own cup of wine. He didn’t drink much but still took a sip. For Mu Qing. “I think we’re seeing only the fun parts of the actual ritual.”

And Feng Xin understood. He downed his cup. “Damn that bastard,” he grumbled. “I’m not caring for him if he’s hungover tomorrow.”

Xie Lian and Feng Xin both knew that Mu Qing would, as usual, work twice as hard tomorrow to make up for the influx of requests from the heavens. It really never mattered whether Mu Qing was feeling well or if he were injured.

Whether it had been when he was still the Crown Prince or after he’d ascended, Xie Lian had never seen Mu Qing take a break, unless strictly mandated. He put down his cup. He didn’t want to indulge tonight.

They left early while the party was still going strong.

General Xuan Zhen was as admirable as always the next day. Not a hair was out of place, his expression was cold, and his voice was steady.

It was only after their third failure to attend the genuine mourning ceremony that Xie Lian and Feng Xin managed to arrive in the right village before dawn.

Feng Xin missed the signs of the second Lament and only heard about it after the fact. The third Lament, Xie Lian and Feng Xin couldn’t find the correct village in time.

Where Xie Lian believed it was his bad luck, Feng Xin insisted that Mu Qing was intentionally throwing them off his scent.

Either way, it left them with the impression that this time they only found the village because it had become too tiresome to keep them away. They didn’t feel welcomed, but the fact that they were there at all was enough to put them in a relatively good mood.

Until they neared the shrine and the tension soured significantly. They found the shrine owner seated against a tree, his head leaned back with his eyes closed. Even so, tears were streaming down his face.

Xie Lian wondered if he should disturb the man when he opened his eyes and smiled at their presence. The sight of such a friendly expression with tears pouring down his face was rather disturbing.

“Daozhang,” he said as he got up. “Wonderful to see you. Are you here for Lament?”

Xie Lian nodded with a gentle smile.

“That’s right,” Feng Xin said. “I fear we may have to trouble you for some directions.”

The shrine owner was not yet old, but he certainly neared that age. “That’s why I’m here,” the man said with a nod. He gestured ahead of them. “It’s a bit further down the road. You’re lucky you’ve arrived so soon. Xuan Zhen Jiang Jun himself has not yet appeared.”

He stretched, and Feng Xin had to look away to keep himself from laughing when they heard his back pop.

The almost-old man did chuckle a bit and continued: “There’s no right way to go about this. I only ask that you not approach the shrine itself or disturb whoever gathers. We all have our reasons, you see?”

Xie Lian and Feng Xin respectfully went onwards until they found the two people the shrine owner was talking about.

The place was secluded, but on top of that, there were small room separators spread out for whoever wanted a bit more privacy.

As Xie Lian bent over them to inspect their quality - which was all over the place. It was likely that the locals had temporarily loaned them for the occasion. He was surprised to see they had been supplied with silencing talismans.

Feng Xin let out a whistle. “Pilgrims to this area sure are generous.” And very capable, but he didn’t need to say it for Xie Lian to hear it.

Usually, cultivators didn’t pay much attention to the heavens and were often less superstitious than commoners. Which is why it was a bit odd to have so many cultivators interested in anything concerning a god.

Then again, Xie Lian reconsidered that. Mu Qing always took great pride in his cultivation. His determination to pursue it even after ascending would be an inspiration to mortals seeking immortality.  

Xie Lian had to hide his smile behind his sleeve. The court always had something to say about Xuan Zhen’s unusual followers. Just as in the areas selected, most of Xuan Zhen’s devotees were poor and of low standing. But apparently, cultivators didn’t mind mixing in this group.

That, along with the fact that Mu Qing absolutely despised it whenever a shrine or temple dedicated to him was anything less than aesthetically pleasing, made for a humorous crowd to be sure.

Xie Lian glanced in Feng Xin’s direction. Perhaps  Ju Yang ’s followers were just a tad bit odder.

They respectfully ignored the person behind a screen. They could see an outline of the person, who was seated on the ground, facing the direction of the shrine. Waiting.

Beside him, Feng Xin shivers. Xie Lian had to stop himself from doing the same.

They set up a screen for both of them, and they sat. Xie Lian, who was most familiar with talismans like these, inspected the wards to make sure they worked properly.

They did.

With some airy movements, Xie Lian lowered himself to the ground. He sat comfortably. If there were no rules, then there was no reason to kneel respectfully.

Feng Xin did the same, but much more stiffly and with reluctance.

Apparently, as the shrine owner had mentioned, they had arrived even before Mu Qing. Knowing him, he’d likely make sure everything was in order in his palace before taking his leave.

Xie Lian enjoyed the calm of the landscape as they sat in a comfortable silence. When he saw the first lights of dawn curling through the trees, he had to stop himself from falling over.

With a gasp, Xie Lian let out a small cry. A single tear spilled over and fell to the ground. He quickly looked up again, and his eyes darted towards Feng Xin.

Feng Xin, with his stiff posture, hadn’t so much as twitched. His eyes were wide open and staring at Xie Lian. “Fucking. Mu Qing.” Tears streamed down his face, and he fruitlessly tried to wipe them away.

Xie Lian got the impression that himself and Feng Xin were spared the worst of the waves of turmoil that crashed into them, thanks to their divinity. Even so, they couldn’t stop the tears from falling.

Xie Lian hadn’t felt this specific type of low in a very long time.

He needed a moment to gather himself. When his mind proved itself to be in too much disarray to allow for proper concentration, he started reciting mantras he found particularly calming.

It didn't take him too long, and soon enough he even managed to stop the unprompted crying. He turned his attention back to Feng Xin.

He sat neatly with his eyes closed. Undoubtedly, he had been listening intently to Xie Lian’s muttering. He had calmed down as well.

Instead, Feng Xin seemed angry. “So,” he said, “ this  is how he stays composed all the time.”

Xie Lian hadn’t expected that. “What do you mean?”

Feng Xin sighed and ran his hand through his hair, which somewhat messed up his hairdo. He didn’t seem inclined to fix it right now. “I’m not sure how to put it, exactly.” He genuinely seemed reluctant to bring up the subject. “I’ve seen you sad,” Feng Xin said instead. “You’ve seen me sad.”

Xie Lian looked to the ground. “We’ve never seen Mu Qing sad.”

“Right,” Feng Xin nodded. “And now he’s making it everyone’s business.” He waved his hand. “It’s a  celebration even. How dramatic can he be?”

Xie Lian’s smile became a bit forced. He knew that Feng Xin was just upset, but he still didn’t appreciate the implications for Mu Qing. Especially not when he wasn’t here to defend himself.

“It’s not sadness,” Xie Lian said eventually. “Not only sadness, but I think that most mortals would feel that first.”

“The bastard is angry as hell, even when crying,” Feng Xin agreed. He massaged his temples.

They waited for a while longer but ultimately decided to leave. Except, when they’d walked away far enough, Feng Xin grabbed Xie Lian by his arm and turned them around.

With a detour, Feng Xin was leading them towards where they assumed the shrine was. The closer they got, the heavier Xie Lian’s heart grew. His breath hitched sometimes with quiet sobs that he didn’t mean to let out. Feng Xin fared no better.

Xie Lian wished he was a better person and had tried to persuade Feng Xin out of this idea, but he also wanted to get Mu Qing away from here. To get him out of the mental state he'd created for himself.

They neared the shrine. It was indoors, and its presence was deeply oppressive.  

An unexpected presence thwarted their scheme.  

Feng Xin stopped and stumbled from shock. He quickly adjusted his appearance and gave a polite, if not dripping with suspicion, greeting.

“Ming Guang Jiang Jun.”

Xie Lian quickly did the same, only a second later. He doesn’t see Pei Ming as often as Feng Xin does, so he hadn’t recognized the martial god right away. While wearing mourning white was unusual for Pei Ming, his appearance was not sufficiently humbled by the robes.

Even when disguised as a mortal, it seemed Pei Ming still cared as much about his upkeep as Mu Qing did. The only thing that would have marred his face would have been the trails of tears that trickled down his face.

But, no, it somehow made him appear a bit tragic and ethereal.

Xie Lian was greatly amused. He also wondered if Feng Xin was regretting not fixing his hair after messing it up.

“Xianle Taizi Dianxia, and Nan Yang Jiang Jun. Good morning -” Pei Ming leisurely glanced at the sky. “Ah, but it’s already noon, isn’t it?”

“General,” Feng Xin began, but said nothing after that.

There was no way to misinterpret the scene. Pei Ming was guarding the shrine.

But why  ? Xie Lian wanted to know.  Did Mu Qing ask him to protect him? Or, rather, does Mu Qing even know Pei Ming is here?  

And, because he seemed to read them like an open book, Pei Ming echoed the shrine owner from earlier that day: “We all have our reasons, you see?”

For a moment, even their voices sounded similar, which made a few things very apparent.

Pei Ming is very familiar with the ceremony. Pei Ming will not tell them what he knows. Pei Ming will not let them enter the shrine.

Xie Lian and Feng Xin left.

Xie Lian could cry.

Fu Yao approached their table in the evening of their fifth attempt at trying to understand what this day meant to Mu Qing.  

The junior official was energetic and devious, but even without Mu Qing's oppressiveness, this Fu Yao right now looked wretched.

Still, he greeted them as any junior would, with the familiarity of someone who had worked with them before and had found it not entirely intolerable.

“The general had business in the area,” Fu Yao explained his presence. “If this one may be of service, I would volunteer.”

Feng Xin had a complicated expression that Fu Yao seemed to take some sadistic delight in.

Xie Lian spoke up before Fu Yao and Feng Xin started a rumor of disagreement between the Upper and Middle Courts. “Thank you,” he said with sincerity. He lifted his cup. “If you are off duty, would you join us?”

Fu Yao took a seat. With the festivities in full throttle, he was served a cup without delay. He frowned at it. “Why this one?” he grumbled.

“Not to your tastes?” Feng Xin teased mildly. He was the senior of the two right now, so he could not throw the same biting commentary he usually would with Mu Qing.

Xie Lian wondered sometimes if Fu Yao felt safer like this. Unburdened by the past, and feeling less likely to receive a knife in his back for looking at someone wrong.

Without exception, Mu Qing was suspicious of others to a detrimental degree. Xie Lian tried to understand, but Mu Qing was often unapproachable to him. Even more now than when he first met him in Xianle.

Fu Yao was like a peace offering. An attempt to meet halfway.

Xie Lian and Feng Xin had come time and time again. Now, Fu Yao took the risk of reaching out just a little, too.

Feng Xin understood that, so he reeled himself in. For a second, Xie Lian worried that Nan Feng would show up, too, but he was relieved to see that Feng Xin wouldn’t leave him to be alone in the burden of their past tonight.

“Not that,” Fu Yao grumbled. “It’s not their specialty. Did they change it?”

“Ah, you must have visited before, Daozhang!” The server couldn’t help but overhear.

Having three cultivators at their establishment was a great sign for the village. It was only natural that most eyes were on them, to make sure they’d be tended to properly.

“This is from the harvest after a previous Lament. It’s been aging for nearly two decades, so we almost had to open the bottles without a proper reason to. Truly, Xuan Zhen Jiangjun blessed us once more just in time!”

“...” Fu Yao looked away. The server continued his rounds.

Xie Lian laughed into his fist, not even bothering to pretend it was a cough. “Did the general lose track?”

Feng Xin also looked incredibly amused.

“Maybe,” Fu Yao grumbled eventually. “As I understand it, the choice of the area isn’t entirely random, but certain details escape my general, when it comes to these days. That’s why I’m here. To help out.”

Feng Xin seemed to strain himself to keep from frowning. If his thoughts were anything like Xie Lian's, he must be seriously doubting the implied excuse that Fu Yao was able to make arrangements that a High Court official couldn't.

Fu Yao reached over the table and picked something out of a side dish that seemed interesting. It was the first and only thing that Fu Yao would eat that night without ample prodding.  

They talked about heavenly business and commented on the villagers with respectful tones befitting of seniors and a junior.

Xie Lian noticed, however, that Fu Yao looked increasingly miserable as the evening progressed. He drank more and more, but only got quieter as a result. It took Feng Xin increasingly more effort to get his attention and drag him into thinly veiled arguments that lacked any heat.  

Wanting to show mercy, Xie Lian was about to suggest they retire for the night.

It was the exact moment when Fu Yao couldn’t take it any longer, and Xie Lian regretted not saying anything just a breath sooner.

Fu Yao suddenly lowered his cup and rose to his feet. His face was a little flushed from the alcohol, and his speech was slightly slurred. Xie Lian had never been drinking with Fu Yao or Mu Qing, for that matter, and he was unsure how drunk Fu Yao actually was.

“I think I’ve kept my general waiting. Thank you for the hospitality,” Fu Yao murmured to Feng Xin and Xie Lian. He reached into his sleeves and placed a prepared pouch of coins on the table. Its size and the sound it made when connecting with the table suggested that it contained more than enough coins for every drink Fu Yao had and every few bites he’d been peer-pressured into eating.

Xie Lian winced. Of course, Fu Yao would never allow his general to be indebted to anyone. He made it clear that he believed receiving gifts without providing a gift in return or having someone else pay for Xuan Zhen was unacceptable.

“Thank you,” Fu Yao said again, as if he’d forgotten he’d already thanked them. Xie Lian briefly caught his eyes, wet with tears, before he looked away to respect the junior’s privacy.

Apart from the appropriate formal farewells befitting his rank, Fu Yao avoided lingering too long and essentially bolted out of the inn.

Feng Xin, who was tipsy himself, emptied his last cup with a deep sigh. “Fucking depressing,” he said.

Xie Lian agreed in silence.

Most would describe Mu Qing, Feng Xin, and Xie Lian as courteous nowadays. Whereas arguments between Nan Yang and Xuan Zhen used to be frequent and amusing to the gossiping gods, they were now a rare delicacy. They fought their fights in private, with only their palace attendees as unwilling witnesses.

And Xie Lian. If he bothered to stay around. Xie Lian could be proud of himself for how he ended up dealing with their bickering. Gone were the days he thought himself obligated to keep them from coming to blows. He valued his sanity more.

To say they were friends was to misjudge the situation. Though they experienced some of their most uncomfortable moments when they were together, as Xie Lian had anticipated, the thought of living without the others was intolerable.

They were family in a way Xie Lian hadn’t experienced before, with how he left things with his father, how his temperament aggrieved his mother, and his cousin -

He supposed that didn’t fit either.

Xie Lian once found himself standing next to Mu Qing as he was taught peasant recipes that would have come in handy in his centuries as a scrap god. ( Time passes so fast, especially for immortals. It seemed they were always late for  something  . )

Mu Qing was tirelessly efficient. His movements were simple and precise.

Mu Qing had looked a little impressed at the end of that day; Xie Lian had accidentally managed to deviate from his instructions so subtly that he hadn’t noticed. Even so, under his supervision, Xie Lian made something edible.

San Lan liked all his cooking, and praised him the same way he always did. Xie Lian had to keep himself from laughing as Mu Qing took that insult the hardest.

At one point, when Xie Lian visited Feng Xin, he was surprised to see Mu Qing already there. They’d been seated together, talking at an appropriate volume. Mu Qing excused himself when Xie Lian was directed into the room by a palace official, but his departure was natural, and Feng Xin hadn’t been awkward about it.

Feng Xin also spoke more to Ling Wen and her attendees through their friendly relations with Xuan Zhen palace. It certainly wasn’t beneficial for Nan Yang’s reputation in the heavens, but Feng Xin seemed deaf to others’ criticisms.

Xie Lian could say their tentative peace was growing stable, but Lament always returned.

Perhaps Feng Xin had been right, after all.

After that last time, Xie Lian and Feng Xin were successfully locating each new village for the next Lament. It became likely that Mu Qing had indeed been trying to shake them off before but could no longer be bothered to go through the effort.

Fu Yao didn’t always show up, but he was around most of the time now. That didn’t mean he was always amicable. The first time was very calm, compared to other occurrences.

It was now late at night, and Fu Yao was almost incomprehensible. Sometimes it didn’t even seem like he was conscious that Xie Lian and Feng Xin were there at all.

“Of course I get it,” Fu Yao said into his cup. “In the end, we fought over it. I won. I always do.”

Xie Lian placed some more food in Fu Yao’s overflowing bowl. He hadn’t eaten anything that evening.

At the very least, Feng Xin had been smart enough to move them all to a more secluded table. It was late. Most people were blackout drunk. Some odd commentary from Fu Yao was normal.

Xie Lian was terrified. He hoped Fu Yao wouldn’t get up and leave. He didn’t want him to be alone right now.

Fu Yao did move, all of a sudden, which startled Feng Xin enough to have him reach out to try and keep the junior from falling over.

Another arm steadied him.

Feng Xin looked at Xie Lian, but Xie Lian looked at Pei Ming.

Fu Yao had moved, as if it were second nature, to accommodate Pei Ming joining their table. And Pei Ming, with equal ease, had his arm around Fu Yao’s shoulders.

Mu Qing, Feng Xin, and Pei Ming were all the same height and taller than Xie Lian. Fu Yao was just about as tall as Xie Lian now, however, and fit only barely in Pei Ming’s arms.

“Whoa, there.” Pei Ming patted Fu Yao on the top of his head clumsily.

Xie Lian paled at the sight. Pei Ming seemed as drunk as Fu Yao, but he desperately hoped it was purely for show.

He was relieved to be proven right when Pei Ming threw them a questioning look.

Feng Xin raised his two fingers to his temple. Xie Lian glanced at Fu Yao, but he seemed out of it and wasn’t paying attention to his company.

Xie Lian found himself in a communication circle with Feng Xin and Pei Ming.

Pei Ming took the lead.  Tonight seems like a particularly bad time .

Yes , Feng Xin grumbled. He had also downed a few drinks before Fu Yao burst into the inn and zeroed in on their table. He was probably regretting that now.

Can we take him somewhere?  Xie Lian looked at Fu Yao with worry.

If Fu Yao was aware they were having a conversation behind his back, he didn’t show it. He was, instead, deeply engrossed with looking past Pei Ming and at the crowd laughing with abandon.

Some patrons were leaving. Fu Yao looked like he wanted to leave too.

Pei Ming nodded, making Fu Yao lazily glance over to his face. On nights like these, I bring him to Ming Guang palace or Ling Wen palace. It really depends on who’s available. Me, or Noble Jie.  

Feng Xin rose from the table.  So, where to?  

I’m available, clearly.  Pei Ming prodded into Fu Yao’s side. “I’m kidnapping you.”

Xie Lian muffled a chuckle.

“No.” Fu Yao slurred decisively. “My general said no.”

Feng Xin sighed as his shoulder drooped. “Don’t be difficult, come on.”

Fu Yao surprised them by reaching for his cup with the clear intent of throwing it at the general’s face. Pei Ming firmly grabbed his arm before he could, and gently lowered it to the table.

Pei Ming looked pained when he did, and Fu Yao’s expression twisted into something fierce.

“Traitor,” Fu Yao hissed, his voice soothing and ceremonial like Mu Qing’s but dripping with venom. “Stop already!”

Pei Ming sighed but didn’t seem startled by the hostility.  I’m getting him out of here. Crown Prince, General, until the next time we meet.  

Xie Lian blinked, and the two were gone.

Feng Xin didn’t sit back down and instead continued getting ready to leave. “Heh,” he said, in a vicious tone. “Fu Yao forgot to pay!”

Xie Lian quickly shoved the pouch of coins into his sleeves that Pei Ming had tossed him. Feng Xin saw it, though, but didn’t comment on it. The general left without another word.

Seeing as, technically, San Lang paid for their meals and drinks this time, Xie Lian would give the coin pouch to him.

He sighed and wondered why Mu Qing thought it was alright to have Pei Ming pay ahead for him, but not Xie Lian or Feng Xin.

“I’m sorry.”

The words were sincere, even if the tone was rather flat. Xie Lian had come to understand that sometimes tone wasn’t the most important, if you could trust that the person speaking was being genuine.

It was Lament, again, but seeing as this time they were joined by Mu Qing, Xie Lian was more than willing to accept the man’s apology.

“Like we’re not used to it.” Feng Xin grumbled.

“I was talking to His Royal Highness the Crown Prince, could you not butt in?” Mu Qing lightly bristled.

Xie Lian raised his hands. “It’s alright, it’s alright. Come, let’s not argue.”

They were used to Fu Yao joining them, so it was odd to have Mu Qing as their company. Xie Lian was quietly delighted.

Mu Qing looked uncomfortable, in his own pristine way. Fu Yao would often appear like a mourning ghost, but Mu Qing was infallible.

Mu Qing eyed a patron in the corner of the room and pulled a face. Xie Lian wondered if the man was someone Mu Qing had seen before, many years before. It was startling, sometimes, to see traces of time when they were unchanging.

Most gods rarely descend. Xie Lian, Mu Qing, and now Feng Xin too were considered uncomfortably eccentric by the heavens for spending as much time in the mortal realm as they did.

It warmed Xie Lian’s heart that, in a way, Mu Qing and Feng Xin weren’t too bothered by being lumped in together with him in some ways.

As Mu Qing once explained to him, “I have a name for myself now,” which still haunts Xie Lian sometimes.

Feng Xin seemed to thrive under heaven's scrutiny. It was as though he was indulging, more willing to embrace unfortunate rumors if he still had a little control over the situation. The whole  Ju Yang debacle was a sore spot, still, but Feng Xin seemed to find it hilarious that he was becoming somewhat of a confusing mess among the gods.

It didn’t interfere with his duties, and it never affected his reputation. It actually increased his relationships with other palaces because he was easier to approach.

Feng Xin was always prone to laugh at the silliest things, so even the lightest allusions or worried looks about his behavior seemed to brighten his mood. He had discovered a new niche of inside jokes that Xie Lian didn’t understand, despite being part of it.

Mu Qing pretended to understand just fine, but Xie Lian knew he was just as clueless.

Feng Xin threw some food into Mu Qing’s bowl, who just sighed at it. He gingerly ate a few bites. He looked vaguely nauseous, but Feng Xin was very pleased.

Xie Lian would almost forget that none of them actually needed to eat. All of this was just comforting gestures. Echoes of their mortal lives. One Xie Lian always enjoyed and which Mu Qing and Feng Xin seemed to have been roped into by him over the years.

Xie Lian wasn’t drinking tonight. He didn’t feel as down, even with Mu Qing sometimes spacing out, curled into himself, and a displeased expression.

Feng Xin and Mu Qing were arguing, with the former insulting the shrine Mu Qing had chosen this time. Apparently it was one of Mu Qing’s favorites, so he had risen to the bait with an explosive anger that amused Feng Xin greatly.

Lament wouldn’t end for a long time. The frequency of the event didn’t lessen, either. Xie Lian was just glad that his time with Feng Xin and Mu Qing wasn’t as painful. That slowly they could reach out and patiently get to know each other again.

Xie Lian got home a bit later, in the early morning of the next day, and sneaked up on San Lang, who graciously entertained him by pretending he hadn’t noticed him. The ghost always waited for him, held him if he needed it, and laughed at Xie Lian’s misfortune when he could take it.

San Lang buried his nose in the crown of Xie Lian’s head, and he hummed in response with a smile.

San Lang lightly brushed his arm. “Good morning. Welcome home.”

#tgcf #tgcf fanfic #mu qing #xianle trio #fanfic #tian guan ci fu #mu qing fanfic #tgcf au #word count: 7k #*mine's: fanfic

[growling]

Dazai is one of those characters that I absolutely genuinely hate as they are currently in canon (and I don't think that's gonna really change. the writers seem committed to what they have now), but really love the version I've made up of them in my own mind partially out of spite, and what I myself initially genuinely thought was the direction they were going with him for the longest time.

Dazai has never been a great person from the earliest episodes - his former allegiance with the port mafia for one, and obviously, his shitty treatment of every woman he happens to meet along the way, barely regarding them as people in their own right but as means to finally fulfill his own fantasy of committing double suicide with a beautiful lady. The first thing he says after seeing a literal corpse of some woman is to lament on how she should have instead committed a double suicide with him (while smiling by the way), he helps save a woman from drowning and as she's still soaking wet having nearly died and he's asked as to what he thinks of this, he says "[she]'s looking damn sexy", the "i like all women, but Sasaki-san seems like the type to commit double suicide with me if I asked, which is nice" remark, and never completely backing off when the waitress/worker at the coffee shop(?) the agency frequents tells very politely him to stop harassing her - I cannot stress this enough how in season one, nearly every new female character he meets, he harasses in some way or another. Like... that is cartoonishly evil! That's awful! And nasty! Literally nobody except for Kunikida (who thankfully actually beats his ass several times for it) reacts to this with anything more than a wince and a "haha classic dazai!!". And with every little piece of lore we got from that point, he turned out to actually be worse, and worse, and worse, until we actually saw him in his wonderfully heartless port mafia era. Which has to be my favourite portrayal of him, which isn't hard, because I literally don't like any others.

And.... I was expecting him to like, how do I put this? I felt all of this was culminating towards something. Usually, when a mysterious mentor (debatable) figure turns out to be hiding such dark secrets from the main character, and supposedly their entire crew too, they cannot run from their past forever, it's gonna come back and bite them in the ass eventually, and it's gonna be messy. But... it never happened? I was on the edge of my seat and it just, subverted all expectations in the most unsatisfying and infuriating way.

It turns out that nobody cares that Dazai used to be an extremely high ranking port mafia executive who killed hundreds of people, whether directly or not. It's brushed off and revealed that actually, the agency all knew it anyway, it was just Kunikida and Atsushi that didn't get the memo. And once they find out? Mildly shocked, then they carry on as usual. Even if everybody else is somehow fine with this, maybe even they got their own skeletons in the closet - why does ATSUSHI have barely a reaction?

It should have been a major turning point of his development, if we acknowledge his entire damn character. It should made him distrust Dazai instantly, never look at him in the same way again, have some sort of arc where he questions literally everything about the person he thought he knew so well that helped (debatable) him so much thorought his time at the agency. Questions the catboy can be rotating in his head like a fork in the microwave while trying to not have his third mental breakdown of the week, and that's just to name a mere few because I'm not listing them all: How much evil is too much to forgive, if forgiveness is an option at all? How much can a person meaningfully change, if "change" is possible at all and we don't just reveal our true nature or learn to hide or adjust parts of our reactions? Has Dazai ever changed, or is he the same person as he was then? Does Dazai even genuinely regret anything, or was he just bored of the previous thing? If so, will he eventually get bored of what he's doing now too? Who even is the person that is Dazai, and did he, or anyone, ever truly know him?

Even now I still don't exactly know where I'm going with this, but, as it stands now (and I finished season 3 a day or so ago - I think it's too late at this point to change the direction they're taking with him), Dazai has never suffered a single consequence of his actions. And by "consequence", I don't mean that he should be publically flogged until he confesses his sins and then executed via firing squad. I mean, that, I want just a single thing he even done have some kind of actual effect or repercussion on him in the long run. But no, he can never be wrong, it's all in the past, nothing matters once he stops caring, and whenever a single character even as much as dares to express dislike or criticize him in any way, they are portrayed doing so like this is some kinda exhausting 4chan comic where Dazai is the chad and they're the seething soyjak. He is pretty obviously the writer's pet at this point, whom they absolutely adore and think he is just the funniest, coolest thing they have created. He is not even as great and cool as every other character paints him as, especially Atsushi whom he's supposed to have some kinda very complex and deep master-apprentice type relationship i never actually saw.

In their first depiction in the flashback/prequel s2 episodes (and even crumbs from the s1 captive thingy), Akutagawa and Dazai have a.... terrible relationship! it's so bad, you guys! It is heavily implied Dazai was the one who fucked that man up so much in the first place. And so I root for Akutagawa to one day obliterate that guy (since Dazai very evidently. does not care about him and actively mocks him in s1, and Akutagawa too is not that friendly with him and even wants to kill him then), but then........... Dazai suddenly just tells him he's proud of him once and starts getting downright friendly with him, starts trying to matchmake sskk for some reason, and Akutagawa just turns into his #1 simp that clutches his chest and starts scream crying at the mere implification from anyone that Dazai left because he thinks he's cringe and will never be a real gamer like him??

Do not get me wrong, it is perfectly fine for Akutagawa to have those complicated, clashing feelings on the matter, in fact i'd much prefer it over "i 100% hate that man and pray for his downfall every night" that I see much more often in other media. I WANT him to hate him so much and idolize him at the same time, be glad he is gone and will never return but miss him more than anything and sometimes hope he comes back one day, be both disgusted and terrified by and deeply yearn for the approval of his terrible, incredible mentor.

But why does Dazai suddenly care? And if he for some reason, does now.... What does it matter? It's not like he can fix it. And I care more about what Akutagawa feels rather than the guy who fucked him up but is now over it and wants to just forget it or patch it up with occasionally throwing out "great job Akutagawa very epic. ok that's enough i'll be on my way toodles dude". I'm more interested with how Akutagawa copes, than how Dazai doesn't.

And like...... I'm still not finished with the series. There's still seasons 4 and 5 for me to get through, and I really, really hope it manages to surprise me and gets better. But I'm just.... not that enthusiastic that will be the case. It doesn't look like it, but I'm not really crossing over that possibility just yet. I'll just keep on waiting and maybe get incredibly dissapointed and affirmed that me and the writers just have a very different perception of who Dazai is, or maybe actually get to see him/everyone else get an arc on this and regain faith in the existence of a loving god. But basically, what I've been trying to say this whole little disorganized post, is that at the end of the day, it's night. And Dazai continues to prowl around the bowels of Yokohama unobliterated and cruelly mock and torment me specifically by doing so.

#mine #bsd spoilers #bungou stray dogs spoilers #did not really proofread the text as its late and im not really good with articulating myself anyway so #if some of the words on the screen look incomprehensible then sorry thats probably why. you can blame it on dazai too #blame everything on dazai. he is the reason society has fell and he's the one who supplies fuel for taylor's private jet #he is the one ruining my entire life for as long as i can remember. god damn you dazai. i will never truly be happy as long as he exists #EDIT: holy fuck that ended up long as hell #Dazai Osamu #Bungou stray dogs #Akutagawa Ryonosuke #Nakajima atsushi #<- they're also there

[canonicallyobserving911]

Buddie: Season 7 Speculation - Multi-Chapter Fanfic

Fanonwriter2023 on AO3

Where CANON and FANON collide!

Hiatus Reading

Chapter 1 is already available on AO3 and Chapter 2 will be posted this weekend.

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“I’m still in love with you but... I needed to learn how to love myself too!”

Chapter 1: 12K words Rated: Mature

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Summary: Months after Buck and Eddie were hit by the same lightning strike; they’re still struggling with the aftermath of it.  But before they make their love confessions, they’ll spend time getting to know themselves as individuals first. Eddie learns to enjoy the simple things in life as he participates in activities on his own and with new friends while Buck learns the rest of the 31-year-old deep dark family secret about his conception and birth. Their journey to forever is still a work in progress but once they finally admit they’re in love with each other, everything that follows their love confessions will be cataclysmic.

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Here are two snippets from chapter 2 and it’ll be posted this weekend.

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Buck

Kameron’s crying, Connor’s yelling and Buck’s looking at Dr. Fredricks still at a loss for words.

Once Buck’s finally able to mentally tune back into the conversation, Connor’s talking, actually he’s screaming at the top of his lungs.  His voice is tight and the longer he yells, the angrier he gets.

“I’m confused Dr. Fredricks because Buck told us he donated and his sperm should have been used to help us conceive…”

If Buck’s tongue would work, he’d verbally agree with Connor right now but his tongue feels like it’s being held down by a tongue depressor.  He distinctly remembers giving his donation so he’s not sure what happened.  Then memories of all the problems he had every time he went to the clinic to donate rush to the front of his mind like a tidal wave and even though he doesn’t want to believe a sperm clinic could mess things up this badly, he wonders if they mixed his sperm up with someone else’s.

He understands Connor’s frustrations but he’s choosing not to intervene yet because he doesn’t want to make things any worse than they already are and he wants to see what else Dr. Fredricks has to say.

Dr. Fredricks shakes his head to interrupt Connor.  “Listen... I think everyone needs to take a breath before I continue”.

Eddie

“Tia, I—I know you’ve been trying to help but I’m asking if you would please stop trying to set me up on dates.”

He pauses to see her reaction and he notices the stunned look on her face but to him she doesn’t look upset so he continues.

“After all the things I went through over the last five years, especially the last two, I need more time to work on myself. “

She nods and he continues.

He looks at her with pleading eyes.  “Two years ago, I was shot in the middle of the street by a sniper…”  He pauses and takes a minute to collect himself.

“Then I had panic attacks followed by a mental breakdown… and while some of that stuff was all related, there were other things I hadn’t dealt with yet.  It took me a long time to recover and with the help of my therapist along with all my family’s and friends’ love and support, I’m still healing.  You already know all of this but the thing you may not know is for the last year, I’ve been happy just getting to know me.  I’m learning how to move forward with my life.”

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Continue reading on AO3

#buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #christopher diaz #the buckley diaz family #buckley diaz family #911 fox #911 on fox #911onfox #911 abc #911 on abc #911 season 7 #911 season 7 speculation #buddie fanfic #New Buddie Multi-Chapter Fanfic #ao3 fanfic #911 fanfic #Fanonwriter2023 on AO3 #Hiatus Reading

[michellesmusing]

Chapter 4 - The Dream

It was Misha’s first day of school in Biarritz, France. Her father had sent her overseas as Misha had revealed that she wanted to learn French and Nicholae thought it would be good for her to see something else than San Francisco.

She was terribly anxious as she only knew some words in French. To be honest, she couldn’t understand every words said the teacher in the classroom, but it was ok, she’d get better with it.

She was almost on the verge of crying and had to call her father… She exploded, unable to hold back her tears, the 13 years old teenage girl sped out of the classroom in tears in front of all the other students that had no idea why Misha had burst out in tears.

“Mademoiselle Schiller, revenez dans la classe, tout de suite!”

Even though Misha wasn’t speaking French, she had understood that the teacher wanted her back in the class! The problem was writing and speaking the language that was harder for her. Misha didn’t listen to her teacher and ran to her bedroom that was located a few minutes from the school at the students dormitory.

As soon as she stepped inside her shared bedroom, Misha headed for the landline phone and dialed her father’s phone number. She didn’t care that it was the middle of the night in San Francisco, she had to hear her father’s voice and he needed to get in his Jet to reach for her and bring her back to California.

“Papa??” She called for him when he answered the phone.

“Misha? It’s late, are you ok?” She wasn’t! She was on the verge of a mental breakdown. She never thought that being separated from her father would be this hard.

“Papa, please bring me back home, I can’t!! I miss you too much!!!”

Nicholae sighed loudly as he heard Misha crying uncontrollably over the phone.

“Misha, please calm down… Take a deep breath!! Everything will be alright!!” 

Nicholae hadn’t only sent Misha overseas so she’d learn French, but things were getting pretty intense lately with his business and especially with Martha Walraven’s arrival in his life, it was only a good thing that Misha was away from all of this… 

“Nooo!! Nooo! Please!!! I’ll be a good girl and I will study very hard, every night if you bring me back home! I can learn French In California!” That’s true, she could’ve learned French in California, but Nicholae was persuaded that it was better for Misha to be far away from all of this. At least for a year…

Nicholae chuckled when Misha mentioned that she’d be a good girl.

“I have no doubt about it! You’ll be a good girl and study very hard in France!! Misha, Papa has to go back to bed, it’s the middle of the night here! I’ll call you back at a later time.”

Misha kept on blubbering over the phone as Nicholae ended the conversation and the teenage girl couldn’t take no for an answer. She dialed once again her father’s phone number, but this time Nicholae didn’t answer. He knew what Misha was trying to do here and she wasn’t going to win..

“NOOOOOO!!” She was furious, behaving intensely as her father wasn’t answering anymore. The blonde teenage girl stood up from her bed and was almost on the verge of throwing the wired phone against the wall, but she was taken by a surprise as a teenage boy stood under her door frame.

“Hello!” He shyly smiled at her and Misha wiped the tears from her blue eyes with the back of her hand, narrowing her eyes at the boy while putting down the phone on the nightstand. She recognized him as he was in the same class as her.

“What do you want?  Go away!!” Misha was also a shy teenage girl and didn’t have many friends, even at home in San Francisco. As if she didn’t know how to act with people of her age, because she wasn’t like them at all.

“I’m David, I’m just trying to be nice. I know how it feels to miss someone. I also miss my parents, but it’s ok. After a while, we’re getting used to it, you’ll see.” David was simply trying to cheer up Misha, knowing that she was sad.

Misha kept staring at David, he wasn’t tall either and had short dark blonde hair. He did seem to come from a rich family… The way he was behaving with her. He was all polite and nice… He sounded different from the other boys around her age.

“I’m Misha Schiller, nice to meet you David…” Misha finally extended her hand to David’s and shook it. David had been nice with her, he didn’t deserve to be yelled at, even if she was angry at her father.

“It’s my second year here, so I can help you if you want with the French lessons.” David once again smiled at Misha and the teenage girl smiled at him before bursting again in tears.

“I missed my father so much!!”  David couldn’t really do a lot concerning Misha who did seem to miss her father very much.

“I’m sorry, it’s never easy the first few days… Perhaps you want to come back to the classroom, it will be better for you than staying by yourself in your bedroom.”

He was a blessing, thought Misha. He was so nice with her and she felt less lonely in his presence.

“Thank you! You’re really kind!” Misha finally dried her tears and returned to the classroom with David.”

“Bon retour Mademoiselle Schiller!” The female teacher welcomed back Misha, and thanked David who once again did wonders by helping a student on her first day of school.

“Aujourd’hui, nous allons découvrir une chanteuse très populaire en France: Mylène Farmer. Le saviez-vous qu’elle est née au Québec?” 

The teacher spoke about a female French singer named Mylène Farmer and asked the students if they knew that she was born in Quebec. It didn’t seem to interest anyone at this point and Misha tried to keep herself focused on the teacher at the front of the classroom.

“Bon, parfait, je vous mets une de ses chansons qui a été longtemps au palmarès en 1992. Écoutez la chanson et par la suite, on va voir si vous avez compris les paroles.”

The teacher turned on her iPod and plugged it to a portable speaker and pressed play. The Mylene Farmer song “Que mon coeur lâche” began to fill up the classroom and Misha’s ears became captivated by the melody she had never heard before. Her blue eyes widened and the next thing she knew, Misha’s eyes closed by themselves and allowed to daydream about her forbidden love.. She could well imagine her father coming her way, entering the school’s building to announce to her that he was here to bring her back home…

The song came to its end around 4 minutes later and Misha was disappointed. She’d have listened to the French singer for the rest of the days, but to be honest, she didn’t understand all the words coming from the song. Did it matter? Not really, the song was simply beautiful and Misha had enjoyed it.

“Alors? Une première pour vous?” The teacher had a feeling that it was indeed a discovery for the Students… Misha’s first day of school was coming to an end when David joined Misha outside of the school.

“So? Feeling better?” Misha nodded her head and merely smiled at David.

“Yeah we could say this!” Misha strolled slowly next to David before turning around and glancing at him.

“Where are you from?” Asked Misha.

“I’m from Bangor, Maine.” Misha raised an eyebrow at David and laughed.

“Never heard of the place before, but I know where the state of Maine is!” David laughed, finding Misha funny.

“Alright my turn… Where are you from?” 

“Belgorod.” Misha quickly grasped the confusion on David’s pale face.

“Uh? Where is that?” Misha chuckled, wondering if she was telling David or not.

“Ok, I will tell you! It’s in Russia…” David became mesmerized by Misha’s revelation.

“Oh, wow! I wouldn’t have known. It’s cool!! Bangor sounds so cheap next to your birthplace haha!!” Both of them kept walking together, asking questions as they were trying to get to know each other.

“Thank you for everything, I really felt lonely today. When I told my father that I wanted to learn French, I thought he was going to find a French teacher that would’ve taught me French during weekdays, but instead, he sent me over here, telling me that it would be an unforgettable experience for me…”

David displayed a compassionate smile and reassured Misha that everything would be fine. Both of them returned to their bedrooms at the dormitory as the evening was approaching. All the students had to be inside the dormitory after 6:30 PM as this was the ultimate rule to be respected.

Misha had taken her shower and was getting ready for bed, when the phone in her bedroom rang. She jumped on the phone like a dog on a bone and took the call.

“Hello???” She knew who it was on the other end of the phone…

“Hello Misha! How was your first day?” The mere tone of her father’s voice coming through the phone was enough to send her again in tears.

“Please Papa! I don’t know what I did, but I want to come back, please!!!” Nicholae shut his eyes for a moment as Misha once again begged him to bring her home.

“Misha, you’ll have to get used to it! It’s only for 5 months, I will then come back for you for the summer vacations. It will go super fast and you will beg me to let you go back to France…” 

She wanted to believe her father, but she just wanted to be with him in San Francisco and not stuck in that school. She wasn’t motivated anymore to learn French, she even hated the language to be honest.

“Nooo! Please!!! Papa!! Please!!!” As Misha grew up to become a teenage girl, she became more clingy toward Nicholae. Afraid that her father would die. She was afraid when he was traveling with his jet, she was very anxious when he was going away for a few days for his business trips. To be far away from her father was a very stressful situation for Misha and she couldn’t handle it properly. Her only natural response was to cry and beg her father like a helpless child, hoping to return home…

Her call with her father abruptly cut off for no apparent  reason and even though Misha tried to call back her father, it wasn’t ringing at all. She was desperate and her first night in her bedroom far away from her father proved to be sleepless and filled with nightmares when her eyes found a moment of peace.

3 months later, Misha was beginning to live normally with the absence of her father. It wasn't easy but it didn’t seem like she had no other choice at this point. Her father was calling her 3 times a week, and sometimes she was also facetiming him with the teacher’s smartphone. It was better than nothing, thought Misha…

One day, she was in her classroom working on a project with David and Julia, and they were allowed to listen to music on their iPod with their earbuds. Just as her eyes stared at the window, Misha perceived a man walking on the grass field outside. A tall, dark haired man with ray ban aviator sunglasses covering his eyes and a dark brown leather jacket paired with a pair of dark pants… She gasped as her eyes instantly recognized the man coming toward the school’s entrance. “Lightning Crashes by Live" was the song playing at the moment her eyes encountered her father, it couldn’t get more perfect than this.

“PAPA!!” Like a bolt of lightning, Misha stood up away from her school desk and stormed out of the classroom so fast that the teacher and the other students didn’t understand what was going on with Misha.

“Mademoiselle Schiller, le cours n’est pas terminé!!!” The teacher sighed loudly, irritated by Misha’s behavior as she ordered the teenage girl to come back to her desk as the class wasn’t yet over. You think that Misha had even heard the teacher?? She still had the song playing on her iPod and her earbuds glued to her ears. She was already running through the school hall in the direction of the main entrance. The confusion set in as Nicholae passed through the entrance and that Misha didn’t even know how to deal with her feelings anymore. 

Oh, now feel it coming back again

Like a rolling thunder chasing the wind

Forces pulling from the center of the Earth again

I can feel it 

Strong emotions took hold of her and the teenage girl stood in the middle of the hall, her blue eyes set on her father, almost thinking that she was dreaming as she was standing a few feet from her father. No matter how far she had been away from him, her attraction for her father was stronger than before and even though she knew that it was wrong, that little girls weren’t supposed to be in love with their father, Misha just couldn’t help it.

“Papa??” Her father hadn’t really changed since the last time she had seen him, but as for Misha, she had grown up a tiny bit and had cut her hair into a short pixie hairstyle instead of the shoulder length haircut she had since she was 9 years old.

Nicholae flashed a large smile at his daughter, glad to see her. He thought that she even looked younger with that haircut, giving her this mischievous apperance. He chuckled heartily when she sprinted toward him and jumped in his arms.

“PAPA!!!!” Misha clung to Nicholae and loudly cried in his arms. Nicholae caressed the side of her head and hugged the top of her head. Misha took a long sniff of her father’s perfume coming from his neck… Nothing could get better as when her father was using “La Nuit De L’homme” by Yves Saint Laurent. The notes of Lavender and Musk emanating from his neck was so recomforting that Misha tried to capture this moment forever in her memory.

“I’m here baby girl! I’m here!! She reunited with her father, but Misha thought that Nicholae had come to her so she’d return with him in California, but alas her dream had been shattered into pieces as Nicholae returned home without her… It was just a little visit to see how his daughter was doing mentally and physically. The teachers had mentioned Nicholae that Misha was suffering from Separation Anxiety, none of them had guessed that it was more than this.. That’s why Nicholae had made this special trip to see Misha.

When Nicholae departed from the school, Misha became very emotionally unstable, running behind her father’s suv. She was crying and screaming, ordering him to come back. The SUV never stopped and Misha became breathless as she ran as fast as she could behind the vehicle that was speeding away from the school street.

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Present time - 2021

This scene of her father leaving the school without her traumatized Misha to the point of sending her in tears in the middle of the night several weeks back in 2013… 

Even 8 years later, Misha still had this exact same scene as a recurring nightmare. As the dream ended on the same sour note, the young woman woke up sweating with “Lightning Crashes” echoing from afar in her mind. The lyrics from the song disappeared as soon as Misha sat up in her bed with a throbbing headache that reminded her that she was back to the real world…

“My god…Will it stop??” She still felt dizzy from the concussion. She kept herself still in the bed as she was in a sitting position. She softly moved her head toward the window covered by the curtains in her bedroom, and she could tell that it was probably late as the daylight had completely disappeared.

Something on her nightstand caught her attention, and she quickly recognized the item in question. It was her iPhone. Last night, Misha hadn’t brought the smartphone as her father had rushed her to the hospital.

She grabbed the smartphone in a hurry with her left arm and unlocked it, relieved as it was intact. Misha knew it was the right moment to delete Ivan from her Facebook, but it appeared that he had been faster than her as Ivan wasn’t even friends with her anymore on her Facebook.

Her short pale blonde hair was looking all messy and Misha couldn’t recall if she had taken a shower since her arrival at her father’s place. She tried to focus deeply, but she couldn’t.

It did sound like the TV in the living room was turned on, so Misha decided to get out of her bed and check to see if her dad was finally home. Alas, it was Just Sergei watching Football… She stopped in the middle of the living room and glanced at Sergei as if she was remembering something.

“Are you ok Miss Schiller?” Asked Sergei with his thick Russian accent.

“Yea, I guess we could say this!” Misha couldn’t really care about Antun, Sergei was more friendly and she liked to speak with him. She could say she was considering him like a friend as he had been working for her father since 1998… Way before her birth.

“I just had this dream… It was like the exact scenes of my first day of school in France, 8 years ago. Worst day of my life! I didn’t understand a word of what the teacher was saying and I was so anxious…” Sergei tapped the couch, inviting Misha to take place next to him. Of course Misha didn’t elaborate on why she was so anxious that day… Even though she considered Sergei like her confidant, she couldn’t reveal her secret.

“You were missing your father uh?” She gulped when Sergei pinpointed what made her so anxious during her stay in France. 

Misha crossed her legs on the couch while taking place to Sergei. When he mentioned the obvious, she glanced at him, not really sure what to answer to this.

“Of course I was. I was just 13 years old and knew nobody over there. I remember that right in the middle of the class, I stormed out of the classroom in tears and went to call Nicholae. But it was the middle of the night here and Papa wanted to return to bed, so he spoke with me for like 2 minutes, trying to reassure me and then he hung up. I was furious and tried to call him back, but he wouldn’t pick up… I was so mad that I took the phone in my hand and I was about to throw it against the wall, when all of sudden a boy named David entered my bedroom and smiled at me. He was an angel in disguise, without him I think I wouldn’t have made it through the entire year.”

Sergei chuckled at Misha’s story.

“Ohh, you were in love with him?” Asked Sergei. Misha couldn’t help bursting into laughter at the big man’s observation.

“No! David was gay and it was plastered all over his face and plus he was my age…He had been my savior, that’s all I’m saying… What about you Sergei, how come a chunky teddy bear like you doesn't have a girlfriend?” Misha had grown up with Sergei, so she knew him enough to tease him like this. Of course she had never been attracted to him, far from it… Sergei wasn’t her type, he was just her father’s right hand man and she knew she could trust him.

“Oh Women, complicated you know…” Yea, she knew this. 

“You’re right, we’re complicated and fucked up!” Sighed Misha as she leaned deeply in the leather couch, thoughtful and troubled at the same time.

“Have you ever loved someone so much it hurts?” Sergei retrieved the remote to turn down the volume from the TV screen as Misha questioned him about love.

“Hmm, probably, but it’s been a long time ago. You still love Ivan?” Misha snorted at Sergei when he brought up Ivan into the conversation.

“Nah, Ivan… Never loved him… We could say I used him for my own cause! He wanted to go to Las Vegas for a job, and I thought it would be a great idea to move there as well…” Sergei looked perplexed as Misha revealed that she never did love Ivan, which didn’t make sense, why had she moved with him then?

“Why!? Las Vegas is not a good place for a young woman like you! Nicholae wasn’t happy!!” Oh, she knew this, she didn’t need to be reminded that her father was pissed when she ran away with Ivan a year ago in Sin City. They didn’t stay for long in Las Vegas, and returned to California a few months later.

“I thought that by being with Ivan, that I would fall in love with him and be happy…” Sergei shook his head at Misha

“You can’t force love! Why did you want to be in love with him? I don’t understand!” As if Misha had to be told that love was a natural feeling… She already knew this.

Misha bit her lower lip before looking at Sergei straight in his dark brown eyes.

“If I tell you Sergei, you’ll have to keep this for yourself, you can’t tell this to anyone. I swear!”

The bald man chuckled nervously as Misha wanted to share a secret with him. To say that he was ill at ease was an understatement.

“Not even your father?” She narrowed her eyes at him when Sergei responded back

“NOO Idiot! You can’t tell any of what I’m about to tell you to my father!!!” as Misha was about to reveal her confession to Sergei, noises coming from the front entrance caught their attention. It was Nicholae coming back to his apartment and Misha shook her head in annoyance.

“I’ll tell you later…” She almost got herself caught like a damn novice, and Sergei was left in confusion, wondering what Misha so badly wanted to reveal to him. Her head was still intensely throbbing and she needed to take tylenols. As Nicholae spotted her from the main entrance, he greeted Misha and the young woman dryly responded back to him… As if she had woken up on the wrong side of the bed. She strolled toward her bedroom and reached for her bathroom. She gulped down 2 pills to make that headache history, hoping it would go away.

“Looks like someone is in a bad mood here!!” Nicholae joked about Misha’s behavior and Sergei shrugged his shoulders.

“She’s not ok… She just woke up and had nightmares I think.” Sergei was somehow sounding nervous, not really at ease with the fact that Misha wanted to share with him a secret that he couldn’t tell her father.

“No worries Sergei, I’ll check on her!” Nicholae put down his dark trench coat on the leather couch and reached for Misha who was in her bathroom, standing in front of the sink.

“How are you doing?” He asked her as he leaned against the doorframe. Misha pushed her tongue against the inside of her cheek before staring at her father.

“It could be better… Headache won’t go away and I’m still feeling dizzy.” Nicholae noticed her messy hair and it did seem like a shower would do her some good, perhaps a bath would be a better option since she felt light-headed. He had bought her a waterproof arm cover for her cast, so she’d be able to wash herself without the fear of getting her cast wet.

“Haven’t you eaten a bit?” She shook her head at her father’s question.

“Nope, I’m afraid to throw up again.” She sighed and Nicholae could tell she was tired of feeling that way.

“You will have to eat Misha and I got you something. You’ll be able to take your shower even with your cast.” He flashed her a smile and Misha couldn’t resist her father’s smile, it was so contagious though the young woman.

“Thank you!”

“How about you take a bath and I will order something to eat, alright?” Misha nodded and walked to her father who was still standing tall under the door frame separating her bedroom from the bathroom.

“Now, it’s a new life for you. You’ll take the time to heal from all of this and I will give you a job. I got something that could interest you…” Misha hadn’t asked her father what he had done today, she didn’t know if he had found Ivan and quite frankly, she couldn’t care at this point. The less she knew, the better it was…

She nodded at him and Nicholae walked out of her bedroom as Misha wanted to take her bath and changed into clean pajamas for the night… As Nicholae returned to Sergei and Antun, the young woman shut her bedroom door and shut her eyes for a moment. She would never get rid of this infatuation she had toward her father…

She could only imagine how Nicholae would react if he would get to know this. Perhaps, it was better to keep this for herself. Revealing that confession to Sergei was a bad idea, thought Misha… There was only one person in this whole world who knew about her unforbidden love for her father and it was David… Misha trusted him enough and knew David would never tell anyone about it...

She grabbed her iPhone and opened her playlist spotify only to listen to "Everybody Hurts" by R.E.M. trying to forget that it was a forbidden love.

#nicholae schiller #goran visnjic #goran višnjić #Red Widow #Misha Schiller #Youtube