#it would be the shortest ordeal

[beyondus-smau]

Chapter 1:

Word count: 3006

2nd of April, 1984

The wheels of the bikes scraped and scratched against the dirt path as the three boys swerved through the forest in a heated race. Frank, the tallest, who had messy long black hair and a stronger build than the other two, was in the lead, having had a head start from the others by screaming ‘RACE!’ and taking off before they could process what he had said. Jack, the youngest, with short jet black hair and his blue vest wrapped around his waist, allowing his oversized shirt to fly in the wind, was right behind him. He sported a determined look on his face as he approached his older friend, about to take him over. Frank however, seemed more pleased to see him approaching so fast, which confused Jack for just a second before they arrived at a sharp turn.

Jack yelped out as he drifted to break before he could enter the wrong path, making have to fully stop and watch as Frank turned back to stick his tongue out and let John, the shortest one, who’s big brown curls were flowing in the wind, take his place as second. He gave him an amused and playful smile as he passed, making any negative feelings Jack could have had about his predicament leave.

Frank turned back and watched as John was approaching, just about to pass him and take first place. He turned back forward, about to accelerate to try to lose him, only for his eyes to widen as he suddenly pulled on his brakes, almost falling off his bike as a result, although being lucky and skillful enough to drift and stop himself. John, on the other hand, wasn’t so lucky, he let out a surprised noise and tried doing the same, braking right behind Frank, but without being able to stop himself in time, he lost control of his bike as he swerved to the side, falling and tumbling to the ground.

“Ow…” The boy groaned as he sat himself back up, looking down at the lollipop he had spat out in the ordeal. Well, he thought, at least he didn’t swallow or choke on it.

“What was that?!” John snapped his head towards Frank, who appeared to be just as in shock at what he did then John was.

“Sorry!” Frank seemed genuinely apologetic, almost stumbling off of his bike as he put his hand up.

“What happened?” Jack asked, having just caught up to them, stopping next to Frank and looking at the two worriedly as John dusted himself off. He picked up his now ruined lollipop, pulling out the paper from his jeans pocket and wrapping it around it, he was probably not going to finish that.

“I don’t know!” John tucked the lollipop in a side pocket of his backpack, to throw it out for later. “Frank just stopped right in front of me!” John gestured angrily towards his friend, frustrated when he noticed that his jeans now had a hole around his knee, which was scrapped as well.

“I told you I’m sorry!” John grumbled at his apology, approaching his discarded bike and inspecting it, glad to see it hadn’t suffered too much damage aside from a spot where the paint had been scrapped off. Frank frowned at his friend’s apparent irritation and pointed his own frustrated finger at the ground. “I was trying to avoid hitting that bird!”

Jack moved his glance towards the spot, followed by John’s angry glare, which turned into one of confusion. There, standing absolutely still in the middle of the dirt path, was a crow, looking completely undisturbed by the accident that had just happened and staying still.

“... Huh.” John approached the other two boys, joining their side and looking down at the black bird.

“... It didn’t move.”

“Do you think it’s injured?”

“Nah, it’s standing just fine.” Frank joined along with their speculations

“Looks like a statue.”

“Well, it’s breathing.” Jack had knelt down in front of the bird, making vague gestures that would have made any other bird fly away, this one stayed completely still.

“Do you think it’s like- blind?”

“Blind and deaf?” Frank questioned with a deadpan look.

“Well, you never know!” John argued back.

“It’s true that its eyes are weird…” Jack added, almost like he was talking to himself. The two boys went down next to Jack and tilted their heads to get a better look at the bird’s face. Its eyes seemed faded and misty, glossed over, they almost looked like a blurry picture of the night sky.

John hummed, stared for a few seconds, before standing back up and turning his head away, looking for any reasonable place that the crow could have come from. Aside from a nest right above it, where two baby birds chirped away for their mother, he found nothing. The three boys stayed silent for a few more seconds, until Frank seemed to be getting bored of this.

“Or…” The other two looked at him as he stood back up. “It’s just a weird crow.” Frank said as a matter of fact, before mounting back on his bike and getting ready to leave. “Let’s just go and leave it alone.”

There was silence between the two, Jack still looking at it before turning back and standing up as well. “Yeah.. You’re probably right.” He agreed, standing back up as well and getting his own bike ready and giving John a head gesture. “Come on, John.” A reassuring smile was thrown his way as he mounted it. John sighed.

“Yeah, okay.” He climbed back on his bike and the trio was off, the race was forgotten, although Frank had silently decided that he was the winner. John gave the bird one last glance before they turned the corner, it had not moved.

The three boys went home, and the bird was all but forgotten about.

•••

●●●●

3rd of April, 1984

“Frank, come oooon.” John whined impatiently, bouncing on his feet. They were waiting in front of their school, bikes at the ready, the day had ended about ten minutes ago, and John was eager to leave. Frank, however, was still talking to Lila.

''Calm down dude, just five more minutes.'' He gave John a quick glance, barely looking at him before turning back to Lila and continuing their conversation.

John groaned as he rocked his bike back and forth, tapping his foot on the ground, his eyes wandering around, clearly not enjoying having to wait any longer. ''You said that five minutes ago! Even Jack's getting impatient!''

''Huh?-'' Jack had in fact, not been getting impatient, on the contrary, he was perfectly content waiting for Frank as he watched a butterfly rest on one of the flowers against the school's gate. Frank rolled his eyes and Lila gave him an awkward chuckle.

''If you're all in a rush then I'll leave you to it, we can talk tomorrow! Either way, I should probably go as well.'' She gave Frank a smile and a wave. He seemed a bit disappointed but he smiled and waved back at her as Lila left to join her friend, Jaune, who was waiting for her a bit further away. Lila and Jaune were part of the group who left by foot, a bit after Narciso did, in the same general direction as him, Icarus as well, going in the same direction that John and his friends would take today. Many simply went on the bus, but some stayed behind, to play, like Ray and Bastien, or to wait for their parents, like Richard, Dexter or Carmen.

John, Jack and Frank were part of the few who'd come with their bikes if they could, leaving in the same way. Although they were supposed to have a set path, after so long, Frank ended up suggesting they take a detour through a path in the woods. It was definitely longer, but it was much more enjoyable for them. The woods were especially enjoyable during spring and autumn, and their new path allowed them to pass by the fields, crops and animals, which they would sometimes feed.

Frank let out an annoyed groan as he mounted his bike, joining his two friends and avoiding eye contact with John, which only resulted in John giving him an amused smirk. The brown haired boy shared a glance and a chuckle with Jack before they were off. John was in the lead this time, although they were far from racing, it was their usual stroll back home today, aside from the fact that, besides some snickering between Jack and John, it was quiet. Jack, being on the same level as Frank, would turn his gaze towards him with a big dumb smile, Frank tried ignoring it, wanting to give the impression that he was angry at the two, but his frown faltered when he would side eye Jack and see his grin.

Eventually, he couldn’t stop himself from smiling and letting out a snort. “What??” He pressed on, lightheartedly, making Jack giggle.

“Do you like her?”

“Huh?”

“Lila, do you like her?”

“Well yeah, she’s nice to me, she’s a good friend.”

John couldn’t help but repress a laugh with Jack, earring an undignified and confused look from Frank towards the two.

“No, doofus. Do you like like her?”

It took a few seconds, but it was like a lightbulb had suddenly turned on in Frank’s head as he realized what Jack was talking about. Turning to give him a glare, he removed his hand from the handlebar to give him a punch in the shoulder, Jack responding with an ‘ow!’ between his giggling.

“No I don’t! I told you, she’s nice! That’s it!”

“Yeah, okay, definitely just nice.”

“She’s just a friend, quit it!” Frank tried to go for another hit, which Jack dodged.

“Just a friend? At this rate you’re gonna spend more time with her than us!”

“What?! That’s not even true! We-... John?”

The friendly banter between the two boys came to an end as they stopped their bikes. In between them, John had stopped as well without a word, looking down at the ground, his expression showing a mix of shock, lots of confusion and a tinge of anxiety. His friends followed his gaze and they joined him in his confusion when their eyes landed on the spot he was fixing.

The same crow from yesterday.

In the same spot.

In the same pose.

It hadn't moved for an entire day.

The three boys stayed quiet as they stared at the animal, each trying to make sense of this scene in their head.

“Uhm… Maybe it’s a different bird?-” Jack proposed, without even really believing his own theory, immediately getting shut down by the other two throwing him a glance.

''It stayed here all night?'' John asked his friends as if they would have actually been able to answer him. Frank hummed as a response, looking down at him and seemingly thinking.

''Yeah, really weird crow… Alright, let's go.'' Frank started pedaling again, going around it and paying it no mind. John didn't follow him, looking at Frank in disbelief while he vaguely gestured towards the bird.

''You're not weird out by that?? I mean- crows don't do that- right Jack?'' He turned towards his taller friend, who was still next to him and observing the two.

''Uh-'' Jack blinked a few times, not having anticipated getting put into the conversation. ''Yea no they don't do that but…''

''It's just a bird, John.'' Frank had shrugged at John's question as he waited ahead for the two. Jack nodded, glad that Frank had filled out the end of his thoughts for him. ''Maybe it has some sort of brain damage or something. I dunno, let's just go.''

Jack hummed, seemingly agreeing with Frank as he joined him forward, leaving John as the last one who hadn't moved yet. He stayed frowning down at the bird a little longer, as if it would eventually let out its secret if John stared hard enough, the crow did not move.

''Weren't you in a hurry? Or should we wait five more minutes?'' Frank said teasingly, which finally earned a reaction from John, who looked up with an offended smile.

''You-!'' The boys chuckled as John started quickly making his way back to them, causing Jack and Frank to take a head start.

The crow was forgotten about as the boys left in a haste, pretending to be in a cops chase.

It stood in its spot, unmoving, staring straight forward.

••

•••

●●●●

It was uncanny how blue the sky was, only disturbed by two lone clouds slowly drifting through it, although now wind could be felt or heard. John had been walking for an undefined amount of time, kicking a pebble through the dirt path as he did. He was surrounded by a wheat field, John couldn’t make out if it even had an end, and it didn’t bother him, being in a dream, he didn’t question the illogicality of this place. John paused however, as he had kicked his pebble too far to the right, it hit something, making a small sound that made John look up and take in his surroundings. The field was still the same as before, however, to his left, he could see a crooked tree breaking the repeating pattern of the crops, and to his right, there was the thing that hit his pebble, what looked like a concrete block stood there, looking old and disheveled, as if no one had came to bother cleaning it in years now.

John blinked once before approaching it, he observed for the dirt path, as the shed was a good three meters into the field. The crops being almost his seize, he refrained for now to approach it. He looked at the door of the block, who appeared to be a lot more taken care of than the shed, almost as if they did not fit together. The doorknob was a golden color, a teal glint shining on it.

John squinted his eyes, trying to make out what was making that shining light. Unconsciously, trying to get a closer look, he took a step forward, stepping in the field. The wheat rippled at his touch as if it were water. John inhaled sharply as his eyes opened back up, from the bright field to the darkness of his room. He wasn’t sure what woke him up, he had felt something like an odd wave go through his body and he could see a small blue tint over his vision that quickly went away.

He groaned as he felt a headache come on and turned around in his bed, guessing the light came from his window and tried to avoid it in the future. He pulled the covers over his head and almost immediately went back to sleep, his half asleep mind way too woozy to even begin thinking about this night, The rude awakening would be forgotten about in the morning.

••

•••

●●●●

4th of April, 1984

“It’s gone.”

It was another day, and just like the previous days, they went through the same path through the woods, and eventually, the three boys stumbled back into the spot where the crow had stayed for the past few days, only now it was empty. John stared, growing at the ground, while Frank just gave it a hum and a shrug before riding past it.

“See? T’was nothing to worry over, just a weird bird, probably got caught by a fox or something.” Frank looked behind, trying to get John to move and get going.

“But there’s no trace of a fight though…” John mumbled, almost to himself as he scanned the ground around him, the dirt hadn’t been disturbed, there was no sign of any fox or predators having passed through, there wasn’t even any sign the crow had ever been there.

“John, it’s fine, don’t stress over it.” Jack had slowed down next to him to give him a few pats on the shoulder and a smile as he passed him as well, John didn’t move.

“Yeah! Probably just flew away, y’know, like birds do?” Frank gave John a cocky tone as he tilted his head forehead, shaking it, almost like he was calling John an idiot. Jack chuckled as he passed him.

That made John look up, a frown on his face, but he wasn’t angry, maybe a bit irritated sure, but he was smiling playfully. He knew his friend wouldn’t actually insult them, and little bickering like that between these two specifically was a daily occurrence. “Are you making fun of me!”

“Nah!...” Frank shrugged, turning his head away with an exaggerated dumb look. “Maybe, but that doesn’t matter!” John gave Frank an offended look, which made Frank put up his hands defensively.

“Hey come on, look. Some birds are weird, okay? It’s gone now, don’t sweat over it.”

John hummed, his smile faltering a bit as he looked back down. It really looked as if the bird had simply never even been there in the first place. He frowned, maybe they were right, no, they were definitely right. John was making a mountain out of a molehill. Of course there was nothing to worry about, nature was unpredictable, he shouldn’t try to make sense of something that had so little impact on his life either way. A random crow on a dirt path? He saw birds everyday, it didn't matter.

“Yeah, Okay.” He paddled back towards his friends, the event staying in the back of his mind as they left, but he was sure he would move on from it soon enough, it was nothing to worry about. The three boys turned around the corner and continued on with their day.

Unbeknownst to them, one of the two baby birds living in the nest about the path was left alone as it chirped for its mother.

#spooky month #spooky month fanart #spooky month sr pelo #spooky month fanfic #spooky month john #john spooky month #jack spooky month #spooky month jack #spooky month frank #frank spooky month #spooky month au #spooky month lila #lila spooky month #beyond us sm au

[electrikworm]

5 times Wrecker protected his siblings and 5 times they protected him: Chapter 6

When Wrecker discovers his fear of heights mid-mission, Crosshair makes sure his brother makes it out of the ordeal in one piece.

--

Content warning: Nothing I can think of

Read on Ao3

“Good work Bad Batch.” Hunter says through their shared comm channel. Crosshair rolls his eyes at the nickname. “All we've got to do is get out of here undetected.”

“Why do you say that like you're talking to me alone?” Wrecker responds in a bad attempt of a hushed tone. Crosshair sighs. He's still annoyed he got paired up with Wrecker for the stealth mission. All because they got in an argument recently and working in a team is supposed to get them to make up and cooperate.

Hunter doesn't humor Wrecker's question.

“If you take the next left, you will be on the shortest route out of the base. It leads through their backup generator, which should have minimal guards.” Tech reminds them, like he hasn't already explained the plan a hundred times. They both give affirmative answers, Wrecker still failing to talk quietly. They take the turn left they were told to.

“Could you walk any louder, di'kut?” Crosshair whispers after having to endure his brother's heavy footsteps for another extended period of time.

“Not all of us are built like a light breeze could blow us away, Crosshair.” Wrecker grumbles. To his credit, it does sound like Wrecker tries being quiet a little harder, but Crosshair won't mention that.

The backup generator's are in a tall room filled with the sound of mechanical hissing. All three of the generators are suspended over a deep pit, connected by a narrow railing-less, walkway. Crossing that walkway is the only way through the room. Crosshair sighs. Of course there's no safety measures to keep you from falling off the edge.

Tech could surely tell him why the generators are built above a pit, some osik about airflow most likely, but Crosshair knows better than to ask his brother now. The rant that would follow a question like that would definitively risk blowing their cover, even more than handing Wrecker an explosive and telling him to “have fun” would.

There are two droids stationed near the generators. Crosshair takes them out with ease, their lifeless husks plummeting into the depths below. It takes a worrying amount of time for the sound of their impact with the ground to resonate around the room.

“If you fall in there, I'm not scraping what's left of you off the floor.” Crosshair sneers, turning around to look at his brother.

“Stow it.” Wrecker snaps back.

Just as they're about to step out onto the walkway, Hunter comms them again. “They know we're here, be prepared for a fight.”

“I didn't do anything!” Wrecker throws his hands in the air, making Crosshair roll his eyes.

���Correct, you are not at fault. It seems we alerted them of our presence.” Tech responds.

“Great.” Crosshair keeps walking, hears Wrecker following him closely.

“It was getting boring round here anyway.” Wrecker laughs.

As Crosshair steps on the walk way, he worries for a split second about Wrecker being able to safely traverse them with his size. He quickly pushes the thought aside as he takes the next few steps. It's not quite as narrow as Crosshair expected.

Just as Crosshair aproaches the second generator, a couple droids appear on the other side of the pit. He opens fire as they do the same. None of the B1's aim is even close to as good as Crosshair's. It's not a hard fight, Crosshair picking them off one by one, dodging behind the second generator ever so often. But as the droids numbers thin, it is with annoyance that Crosshair notices that Wrecker hasn't fired a single shot.

“What ever the kriff you think you're doing, you better stop right now! This isn't the time!” Crosshair hisses into their private comm channel as he ducks behind cover. Wrecker gets the message.

By the time the last droid collapses into a sparking heap, Wreckers barely hit one. What game is he playing?

“Wrecker!” Crosshair snaps, turning around to face his brother. Wrecker is still standing at the first generator. “What is your problem? You could get us killed doing osik like that!”

Wrecker says nothing. At least he has the decency to look somewhat sheepish, going off of how he's standing.

“This better not still be about those shots I fired at you. I told you before, there was no chance I'd hit you. If I wanted to hit you, I wouldn't have missed!” He's closed the gap between him and his brother. Wrecker's already got his back against the generator, so Crosshair shoves him against it for emphasis.

To Crosshair's surprise, Wrecker actually sway backwards, back hitting the generator with a dull thud. A big difference to his usual unwavering stance when faced with Crosshair trying to move him. He must feel sorry, if only a little. Crosshair shakes his head. “You're unbelievable. Acting like a kriffing tubie.”

With a huff, Crosshair turns around and starts walking again. He isn't going to wait around for Wrecker to try and justify his actions.

When Crosshair's halfway back to the second generator, Wrecker finally speaks.

“Cross...” That's all Wrecker says. Crosshair's heart almost stops. He sounds weak, unsteady, almost pained. Fearful. Crosshair turns and hurries back to his brother. The thought that Wrecker may have been shot without Crosshair realizing it haunts him.

Crosshair really looks at Wrecker this time, the way he's pressing his back against the generator, the way his hands shake as he clutches his blaster to his chest. How hadn't Crosshair noticed that something's off?

“What's wrong, ori'vod?” Crosshair asks as he checks his brother over. He doesn't look to be injured, but Crosshair knows that doesn't mean anything.

“I can't walk.”Wrecker mutters, barely audible.

Can't walk?

“Is it your knee?” He'd recently dislocated it during training. Could it be bothering him again? “Or your back?” Wrecker's had constant issues since they were cadets. But Wrecker just shakes his head.

“I- I can't.” Wrecker's breathing too fast, Crosshair wishes he knew why.

“Can't what Wrecker?” He hisses a bit too harshly. “You have to talk to me.” They can't linger here forever, have already wasted too much time.

“Walk.” It sounds almost like a gasp.

“I know, but why?”

Wrecker shakes his head, removes an unsteady hand from his blaster and gestures vaguely downwards. Crosshair's watches him, not sure what to make of it, not sure how to help his vod.

Then it clicks. “Wrecker, are you... scared of heights?”

The anxious little noise Wrecker makes tells him everything he needs to know. Wrecker can disarm a live explosive seconds before it detonates without breaking a sweat but heights is where he draws the line? Crosshair sighs. It's always something with his brothers.

Crosshair pats his brother's arm. “You aren't going to fall Wrecker. Just don't look down and follow me.”

Wrecker grabs Crosshair's hand, starts shaking his head vigorously. “No. No, no, no. I can't.” The hand holding Crosshair's is trembling, Wrecker's chest heaving. Crosshair isn't sure Wrecker's getting any air into his lungs with how frantically he's gasping for it. It's disturbing.

“Breath!” Crosshair hisses. “Don't you dare pass out on me.” Wrecker doesn't listen to Crosshair's advice, instead letting out a string of garbled, panicked nonsense, some of which sounds suspiciously close to tears. His breathing's just getting worse. “Wrecker!” Crosshair snaps. Not like their cover can be blown any more than it already is.

Wrecker makes a questioning noise, surprisingly actually trying to be quiet enough to listen to Crosshair, though he still sounds like he's choking. Crosshair pulls Wrecker into a hug, made awkward by both of their blasters getting in the way. Putting his hand on the back of his brother's head, Crosshair makes Wrecker rest his head against his shoulder.

“Close your eyes, shut up and breath.” They haven't got time for this. Crosshair should just start dragging Wrecker in the right direction. If forced, he'd eventually start walking, he'd eventually have to start breathing right again. Crosshair isn't sure he could take doing that to his brother.

When he hears Wrecker's breathing start to even, Crosshair pulls away. “Now, we're going to cross this room, and you won't look down, got it?” Wrecker nods hesitantly.

Crosshair turns to walk furtherer but is held back. “Wrecker, let go of my hand.” Wrecker looks away, but doesn't do as he's told. “Wrecker.” Crosshair repeats, tone warning. His vod doesn't even react. Crosshair groans and rolls his eyes. “You can hold onto my shoulder if you have to, but I can't shoot with you clutching my hand like some lost child.”

That Wrecker immediately obeys, moving his hand to clutch Crosshair's shoulder. He rolls his eyes again for good measure, readjusting the grip he has on his Firepuncher. They move a lot slower this way, Wrecker's steps shaky, his grip on Crosshair tightening ever so often.

They only get a few meters before more clankers show up. Wrecker's shooting again, but his aim is off. Crosshair has to carry the fight. It doesn't help that he has to keep pulling Wrecker behind cover. When a shot clips Crosshair's leg, he inhales sharply, but doesn't mention it. Neither does he mention it when the last droid of the group falls, tipping forwards into the pit with a mechanical scream. It barely slows them any more than Wrecker's fear does.

Thankfully no more droids show up for the last stretch of the walkway. Wrecker does however let out a yelp at one point, followed by his pressing his helmet forward against Crosshair's own. He mutters something about falling and going to be sick. Crosshair shakes his head, patting the hand on his shoulder.

“We're almost across, ori'vod.”

As soon as they're off the walkway and Wrecker's made sure they're no longer above the pit, the large clone falls to his knees among the broken droids. He at least has the decency not to pull Crosshair down with him.

“I'm never doing that again!” Wrecker exclaims, still visibly trembling. Crosshair sighs, taking a moment to carefully prod his injured leg. The shot caught his right thigh. It's not bleeding, the gash cauterized by the shot, but depending on how much they'll have to fight, it might yet get torn open. He can't tell how deep it is, but it kriffing burns every time he moves.

“Are you quite done being dramatic?” Crosshair says.

Wrecker gets up unsteadily, nodding. They only get two steps before he clocks Crosshair's limp and starts offering to carry him. Crosshair will absolutely not suffer that humiliation just because of a minor leg injury. He does however let Wrecker steady him, holding on to his vod as they walk. Crosshair has a feeling Wrecker could do with the closeness right now anyway. There's still an unsteadiness to his every movement.

“You won't tell them, right?” Wrecker asks after a while, uncharacteristic quiet.

“What, about your fear of heights?” Crossahair scoffs. “Sure. Lets let Hunter and Tech find out when you next have to go up somewhere high, keel over like an anxious Tooka and break every bone in your body. That'd be a fun surprise.”

“Alright, alright!” Wrecker groans. “I'll- I'll tell them.” He clenches and unclenches his free hand, knuckles cracking loud enough to hear. “But you won't tell any of the Kaminoans, right?” Wrecker continues after a pause.

“Oh no, I thought I'd tell anyone that would listen to me as soon as we got back to Kamino.” Crosshair snarks, rolling his eyes. “Of course I won't tell them. None of the staff or regs will know unless you tell them. You have my word.”

“Thanks Cross!” Wrecker says, clearly grinning, knocking their helmets together lightly by leaning over. “For not leaving me out there over the pit too.”

Crosshair huffs. “Don't mention it again, or next time I will.”

Tech was right, the route they're on really is a short one. It doesn't take much longer for them get out, though they do come across more droids on the way. As Crosshair had predicted, his leg is bleeding by the time they get out.

Back on the Marauder, Wrecker explains his fear of heights in the most indirect and confusing way possible, but Crosshair keeps himself out of it. By the time their older brothers understand what he's trying to say, Tech's already treated Crosshair's leg.

The whole time, Wrecker's glued to Crosshair's side, showing no sign of stopping any time soon. In fact, when he lays down, so does Wrecker, hugging Crosshair tightly as he does.

“Do you have to hold me like one of your stuffed toys?” Crosshair complains.

“Yes.” Wrecker responds with a grin.

“Fine.”Crosshair groans, trying very hard not to let on to how comfortable he is.

#tbb #tbb wrecker #tbb crosshair #the bad batch #my writing

[rooksmoor-manor]

The Fountain; or, A Haunting Reflection!

Almost every regional folklore and legend contains fables and myths about fountains with prophetic waters or wish-granting wells. As it could not be otherwise, there is such a legend about one of the fountains in the gardens of Rooksmoor Manor. According to it, if you gaze upon its waters under certain circumstances, you will see the visage of your soulmate rather than your own reflection.

To find the origin of this story, one must go back in time to just after the Founder's passing. It was decided that his youngest son would serve as a temporary Keeper of the Manor while everyone else was busy planning the funerals. He is still regarded as a notable Keeper, not only for being the first person to hold the position but also because his tenure remains the shortest-lived one, lasting just a few days shy of a month.

The youngest son was an absolutely unremarkable person, which was a particularity here at Rooksmoor. If there was one thing that could be said about him, it was that he completely disregarded the beliefs of the rest of his family, considering them to be needless traditions at best or, at worst, stupid superstitions. Even though he was in his early twenties, he still had discovered neither his true self nor his purpose in life, and, therefore, he remained nameless. Perhaps he thought that by doing so, he was expressing his contempt for the family beliefs in another way. This does not imply, however, that he did not care about his family; he was still greatly affected by the passing of his father despite their differences.

Grief is quite a curious thing. It leads us down unexpected paths we were unaware existed deep within ourselves. In the case of the youngest child, he found himself actively breaking the most important customs and rules of the Manor, something he had never dared or was impossible to do while his father was still alive. In his journal, he wrote about most of his exploits, describing how the garden fountains were turned off, all the doors inside the manor were left ajar, and the lantern by the front door was left unlit at night. He maintained a frustrated, condescending tone in those reports, yet his attitude changed dramatically during his final week as keeper, becoming more erratic.

It all started the night he ventured outside for reasons unknown. Even though it was the same garden where he had grown up, there was something different that night under the faint light of the moon, something unsettling in the air—an eerie silence, now as the water was still since the fountains were off. He would never admit he was terrified, of course, but deep in his mind, he knew he had to fight his fear, as it was his rightful duty to prove to everyone how silly that whole ordeal was. "Water must always be running, or there must be no water in the basin at all," he remembered, almost mockingly, another one of his father's nonsensical rules.

As he peered over the brim of the fountain basin, his smug expression swiftly contorted into a grimace of terror. Instead of being greeted by the familiar vision of his own reflection, he found himself facing the visage of a stranger. A man with an outmoded hairdo, an empty expression, and a pair of sunken, glassy eyes, devoid of all life, staring back at him.

He remained awake for the rest of the night, and the following week was not kind to him either. He hardly ate anything, spending his days rambling in his journal, with a wicked fascination about that stranger. At night, he returned to the fountain, hours passing by examining the cadaveric, unmoving face in the water. Throughout the following seven nights, the youngest son claimed that his initial shock and dread gradually gave way to what he described as a silent understanding, a feeling of certain complicity, or even friendship.

The last lines in his journal were an apology to his father, signed around midnight. The morning after, his mother stopped by the Manor. She found him with two bottles of wine by his side, slouching over the fountain with his head submerged in the water, cold and dead.

#dark #gothic #mystery #story #goth #creepy #fiction #darkness #short story #writeblr #writing #ghost stories #ghost #spirits #spooky season #spooky #horror #eerie #horror story #terror #terrifying #scary #haunted house #haunted #obscure #mysterious #storytelling #short stories #reading #victorian

[emile-hides]

So I’m like almost done with Season 7 and got super impatient with whatever is happening with these damn Dragons so I looked up the official Fairy Tail timeline and. My god.

Learning that 1. Natsu is the oldest by a lot in canon and 2. if all had gone okay Erza would have been younger than Wendy really put my brain into some Dummy Mode so here we are.

I’m calling this the Childhood Friend’s AU and putting info under the cut

So I changed like a lot of things I wanted to mess with canon ages, so I needed t visit the timeline eventually anyway. Here’s about how it goes: 

The dragon slayers, after traveling through time, stay together, now with a new born and newly abandoned baby Erza. They still don’t remember what really happened to their parents, and are still looking for them, but now together and with a baby, which makes travel difficult.

Natsu, as the oldest, is doing his best to look out for everyone, as Igneel told him to. He finds hiding spots for them, hunts for and cooks the food, keeps everyone training with their magic, and cares for Erza to the best of his abilities.

But he’s still Natsu.

After getting chased out of yet ANOTHER town for damages, theft, and noise complaints, the Dragon kids find themselves hiding in the yard of the Heartfilia family, where they’re eventually found by Lucy.

If Lucy’s mom was still around she’d probably tell her parents right away about the beat up, tired, hungry homeless kids she found in the garden, but sense it’s just her, her dad, and the staff in the mansion, she decides against it, opting instead to summon Aquarius and ask her advice.

She does eventually end up telling the staff, just because it gets hard for her to sneak enough food out for all of them without Someone taking notice.

The dragon slayers are raised pretty much in secret around the mansion by the Staff and Aquarius, who passes through the gate with her own magic to take care of Erza when a handful of toddlers can’t, which is often.

That’s... about all I’ve thought about. Little bonus thoughts

I aged Natsu and Gajeel down quiet a bit, sense they’re approximately 12 when they get yeeted into the future in canon. I believe Sting and Rouge are Wendy aged though.

Metalicana uses She/Her and is Gajeel’s mom.

Weisslogia and Skiadrum are Dragon Married and raised Rouge and Sting together. They also didn’t twist their kids memories to make them think they killed them because Jesus Christ guys What The Fuck.

Rouge is Transgender and is still a little girl when thrown forward in time, he starts to transition in his teens

Wendy is very protective over Gajeel, same way Sting is protective over Rouge. She’s also usually the one to comfort him. When they get older Gajeel finds the whole ordeal really embarrassing.

Everyone dotes on Erza and as she gets older she gets rather embarrassed by it

Rouge outgrew Sting when they turned 6 and started slouching because he found a lot of comfort in being the same height as his brother. When they finally stop growing they’re on complete opposites of the height scale with Rouge being the tallest in the group and Sting being the shortest.

Also in this AU, Ultear gets to go home

She’s an incredibly short 12 years old due to all the experiments, compared to Grey who’s 8 and Lyon who’s 9. And Ur doesn’t die. Grey still has a lot of trauma around Deliora but he’s the youngest child now he doesn’t have the energy to go fight god. And Ultear would beat him upside the head for trying. Get your ass back in here you are Eight you are not fighting a mega demon on your own.

#Emile's Arts #Fairy Tail #Fairy Tail AU #Childhood Friends AU #There that's fine that'll make this post easy to find again #I was looking up Baby Refs for this and found a single image of baby Gajeel still with piercings in his face #And decided to replace that instantly with spikes jelwery #Which don't get it twisted isn't edgy it's the equivalent of candy jewelry to him #Crybaby Gajeel is my everything he is sad he misses him mommy he cries most every day about it and needs to be comforted by a 5 year old #I learned Erza in an everything is fine AU would be the youngest of the main cast and I had to do something with that #Baby Erza baby Erza #Everyone doing their Dragon Roars and she's plopped at the end of the line and goes 'Rawr' and everyone pretends to get hit and falls over #Big Brother Natsu I'm sorry I'm obsessed with how Natsu interacts with children in canon

[chispas-and-broken-bindings]

2022 end-of-year fic review ✨

thanks to the lovely @charmtion for tagging me!

1. what is your ao3 account?

Chispas_and_broking_bindings

(and another secret one)

2. how many words did you write in total in 2022?

136,405 (which seems impossible, considering I haven’t updated anything in months)

3. how many fics did you publish in 2022 // multi-chapters v. one-shots?

4 multi-chapter v 0 one-shots

4. what was your longest fic // your shortest fic? 

longest: nothing sacred, all things wild shortest: A Girl Should Know Better

5. what was your most popular fic // your least popular fic?

by kudos, most popular: nothing sacred, all things wild  least popular: the story I wrote in another fandom under my secret account

6. what fic didn’t perform as well as you thought it would?

I never really have any expectations of performance, so anyone reading my stuff is fantastic. Thank you!

7. what fic performed way better than you thought it would?

nothing sacred, all things wild - it was supposed to be a one-shot for a fandom event, and has spiraled into something much longer. 

8. what was your favourite fic you wrote from 2022?

something I haven’t posted yet

9. what was your favourite fic that somebody else wrote in 2022?

Draco Malfoy and the Mortifying Ordeal of Being in Love by isthisselfcare

10. tag your friends to do this end-of-year fic review as well!

@thistle-and-thorn @ferrame @pacific-rimbaud @msaudreyanne @vivilove-jonsa

#fic writing 2022 #it didn't feel like a very productive year for me #but I guess the numbers don't lie

[cottoncandyruby]

I was gonna do more lil updates for MythiCon but the journey here has been so tumultuous all I’ve wanted to do is sleep and scream 😂

I forgot how to do read more on tumblr so just scroll by if ya don’t wanna read aha

"Anticaption, Aviation & Allergies"

Part 1. A little trip to Dublin

Of course the shortest part of my trip would be the easiest. So my mum and I were up at 3 am got a very expensive taxi, cos there were no trains, to the closest airport. Lingered there until our flight left at 8. I was so excited even though I’ve been on a plane before when I was small, I had no sensory memory of it or anything so the sensation of flying was like woo.

Tis a very short flight to Dublin, like an hour and I had a window seat so the absolute dream 😍. (Also that's like the only picture I took because I forget to take pictures)

Part 2. Dublin to New York

So we had to chill in the airport for 4 ish hours, we shared some BK chips cos airport food is overpriced lol. Anyways, it all chill until we get called to the lil reception people by the gate and they wanna look at our info and we don't know why or what the issue is. We booked this trip through booking.com but it is unclear what info actually went through lmao. They change something on our tickets and we get moved seats (?) And then it's all fine.

We end up talking to this Irish lady who travels for work and tell her about our super fun New York layover; it's 14 hours, we were very excited that we could go explore New York in the later afternoon/evening cos the only thing we anticipated doing was attending MythiCon. The lady's like "Oh....14 hours" with an obvious, "honey something went wrong" face.

Part 3. The New York Flight

We get on the plane to New York and we are on the exit row where you have to verbally confirm that in an emergency you will be able to open the door and help people get out, no pressure right?! I am on the aisle seat, my mum the middle and our new friend Steven(?) is in the window seat.

This flight lasts 7 hours and I spend the entire time reading the first LotR book cos I can't hear Steven for shit, airplanes are loud y'all, and avoiding eyecontact with bathroom users who are queuing up in front of us cos the loo is directly opposite. I made the mistake of wearing, what i used to call, my comfy jeans and I'm a big girl with some thicc thighs and oof ma legs had no circulation.

Steven talks my mums ear off for near 6 of the 7 hours in which she sparingly looks at me for ways out of the conversation or for me to join in, and I genuinely cannot hear him but also the whole ordeal is hilarious to watch. Except Steven thought we were a couple and I am realising I will have to spend the whole of MythiCon reinstating that I am travelling with my mum not my partner. Gosh.

Part 4. Newark, not New York

We arrive and Frodo, Sam, Pippin and Merry have just left Tom Bombadil and we realise we are not getting out of this airport. We retrieve our bags, my suitcase is slightly broken and won't stand up properly but we move. A very nice woman informs us we won't be able to store our luggage anywhere and that our flight which leaves at 6 am, we arrive at 4pm in New York by the way, won't be open for check-in until 3.30 am.

So, we must keep our luggage with us at all times and journeying into New York is suddenly much less appealing. I am also internally reeling from the disappointment of not going up the Empire State Building which was something I thought my mum had booked but no. Anyways, I don't wanna walk around New York with my suitcase but the other big issue besides the prospect of sleeping in the airport is Mielle Rosemary and Mint Hair Oil.

Here be some context before I continue:

I am biracial. My mama's white and I have no connection to my relatives of colour wherever they may be. So, despite being black I have lived a very white experience (still had the racism and all the shit but anyways) for y'all readers of colour or informed folx, you will know afro hair requires different products and care to white hair. I have slowly become aware of this over the last 5 or so years. I have never had a protective style and the town over from me is more diverse than where I live and has afro hair salons. So, I boldly book in for Goddess Locs cos I'm Jamaican and they look pretty and why not spice things up before going on a 33 hour flight?

Unlike as specified in the booking information for this hair it is not 30 minutes but 8 hours and not 55 quid but 85 and its this very rude 19 year old doing my hair. She puts some spray on and recommends I put hair oil on to keep my scalp hydrated. This is the Sunday before we leave. We get the flight to Dublin on the following Wednesday morning.

On Monday, I purchase the aforementioned hair oil. My hair feels a little itchy and I cannot tell if it is mild discomfort because of the weight of the locs or the spray she's used. So on the Tuesday night my mum liberally applies the hair oil across my entire scalp, a lil bit runs down my back across my face etc.

I wake up Wednesday morning, it still itchy.

....

We do the Dublin flight, the New York flight and when we land in Newark I am starting to feel very sick and my head feels warm to the touch. It could be from lack of sleep but fainting is imminent so we take the AirTrain to Penn Station and purchase some antihistamines. We see a sign for Madison Square Garden and head back to the airport.

We awkwardly finagle ourselves into a bathroom stall with our suitcases and my mum gets some nail scissors out from her suitcase and cuts my 85 pound hair off of my head. My scalp and more clearly my hairline is covered in bumps. I dont have phobias well except arachnophobia but hives and bumps make me feel sick. So I could not touch my head and boy I wanna scream and cry, I know that I must look as awful as I feel.

We remain in the airport til our flight, I get no sleep, my mum dozes off awkwardly on the chairs and my head gradually stops hurting but is still hot and itchy. The nausea abates over time.

Part 5. New York to Austin

Flight is smooth, my mum sleeps the whole way and I listen to music and half watch ParaNorman with no sound on cos I'm a multitasker.

Our flight is early, and we had booked a driver (which felt so posh) and Austin airport is lovely looking I must say. Anyways, our flight is an hour early so we sit in the pick up bit for am hour gettin chilly. Our driver arrives when he was scheduled to around 10.30 and says he'd been waiting for ages because he saw the flight was updated. Immediately felt guilty aha but he was nice. My mum woke up with a headache so I'm doin most of the talking.

The drive to the hotel is exciting, we passed by so many beautiful houses. Its so much more colourful than I thought, not that I had a whole bucket of ideas about Texas' aesthetic.

The hotel is tall, brown ish and angular. Inside its kind of intimidating but to the right of the entrance my eye catches this big sign for MythiCon and they've got a little reception area fashioned with all the merch Mythical Beasts get when they arrive which I'll post pictures of separately but it's lovely looking. The posters are huge and I fear they will be crumpled on the way back but c'est la vie.

We go to reception after being armed with Mythical Merch and they have shuttle buses runnin' to and from Stat Hill Ranch so my mum and I make a mental note to catch the earliest one which is at 2.30pm today ahhhh.

Anyways reception. Everything's going fine, despite my email the dude respects my chosen name which is very satisfying after being called ma'am several times awoke the gender angst in me. He asks for a small deposit of 225 bucks.

Side note - My mum and I are bad with money. We know she'll have got paid Friday morning for work and that that will cover Mythicon expenses. By the time we get to the hotel, we only have 100 dollars.

My mum calls my nan, I message my best friend, who graciously send us the money and 30 minutes later we are through. Check in was advertised at 4pm (it's around 11 ish when we arrive) but one moment of good luck allows us a room early. He might've just pitied us I don't know. I hate money, I hate capitalism. I know im saying this after having spent so much to just get here but that wasn't even money we had and it feels like we're being reminded of how we don't deserve to be here I don't know. It was very humbling anyways, and I could tell my mum wanted to cry and I was ready to zone out but it got sorted.

We get into the room, I'll share some pictures later cos it is nice in here. I go into the bathroom and do what I usually wind up doing when I hold stuff in and start to cry, a bit from the malaise of travelling its been over 24 hours and I've not slept, a lot from the continuous bad luck, and the rest for the renewed discomfort of the hair oil on my head.

The mirror confirms one thing which is I look abysmal. The product she used on my hair has fried and looks like dandruff, my skin is blotchy, and it's a big oof. I get in the shower to wash out the oil...consequently, I wash it onto my skin and the rest of my body. I bawl whilst doing so.

My hair starts to cool as I dry off but my body starts to swell. My already thicc thighs be getting thiccer, my hands and feet swell. My body, limbs specifically have a veneer of numbness like when you fall asleep on your arm and it takes a while to get any feeling back. It's a bit concerning but I take another antihistamine and finally sleep.

We had planned on exploring last night but we did not go anywhere beyond our room.

Part 6. Fog and Furtive (?) Optimism

Today the bumps on my head feel smoother, I'm still swollen but less so and I am very thirsty. It has been a heck of a journey but if it is the price to pay to see Rhett and Link up close and personal I'll do it.

But I had to rant and feel sorry for myself on the internet first.

If you read this to the end I would like to both thank you and apologise. I am manifesting that things will only get better from here.

This weekend is gonna be Mythical!

#mythicon #personal #about rube #it has been a ride #i am tired #hungry #and ready for rhett and link #they're better be some rhinky shit this weekend

[holdmeclosertinytaron]

A little catch up!!

Ahhhh it feels like forever since I've properly posted on here. I promise I'm still alive, life has just been kicking my ass this year and it's been a lot to juggle. So here's a little rundown for you all...

In January I had to have an ultrasound on my abdomen due to intermittent, excruciating pain. Turns out I have gallstones (yay!). The doctor was referring my to general surgery to discuss options which was fine.

In February I had the gallbladder pain bad and wound up bed ridden for five days after unable to eat or drink. I slept continuously for almost 24 hours and my mum was getting worried about me because I started to turn yellow. I'm talking fully minion yellow. So I ended up in A&E where I spent five of the shortest hours of my life waiting to find out what was going on. I was put on a fluids drip because I'd only had 500 ml of water in four days.

I spoke to a lovely surgeon at like 1am who was quite surprised that I knew what she was talking about (thanks Grey's Anatomy for that. You're a real one). She told me that she would like it for me to stay overnight but she knew I wanted to go home so she let me home but made me promise I would go back to the hospital the following day for an MRCP and more blood tests because some of my levels were really high.

I got a call the next day telling me that my scan had been scheduled for the following morning so to take the day to rest and that I didn't need to go in. I still wasn't eating or drinking. I wasn't hungry and I was so exhausted it was awful.

I had the scan and then I went to the surgical same day emergency care department where I had blood drawn and had to wait for an hour for results. I was finally starting to get thirsty but I couldn't have a drink of anything in case I needed emergency surgery. A doctor came to speak to me and he said I had more gallstones than they first thought but they were no longer blocking a duct like they were before so I could go home. I just had to go back again the day after for another blood test to make sure my bilirubin and haemoglobin levels had sorted themselves out. Fun.

The following day I went back and had even more blood drawn. Before this whole ordeal I was petrified of needles. Now I just give them my arm and tell them to go to town. I was allowed to drink that time so a nurse made me the worst cup of tea of my life, bless her. Not her fault, the teabags they use at the hospital aren't the ones I'm used to. That's besides the point.

Another doctor came to speak to me and asked me how I was doing. I told him I felt fine again and as though nothing had happened. He was glad I was feeling better and said as long as my levels had dropped he was happy to sign me off and let me wait for general surgery to get in touch with me.

My levels had dropped enough to go home!!

A couple of weeks later I got a letter from general surgery with an appointment for the 4th of April. Perfect. My fear of hospitals was no more because I'd been so much bad in February so off I went with my mum to this appointment with a consultant.

What a laugh that was. Throughout this whole thing, my weight hadn't been mentioned once. I had only dealt with one male doctor at this point too and that was a phone call to tell me I had gallstones. Every other doctor, nurse and surgeon I'd spoken to were women and not one of them mentioned my weight.

Now I know I'm overweight. It isn't a secret. I am fat. But to have a surgeon look at you and talk to you for fifteen minutes about your weight, while looking at your mum instead of you, that shit is awful. He didn't know why I was there. He thought I'd been rushed through from the GP for surgery asap (I thought I was getting surgery asap too).

For a whole twenty minutes he said I would need to be referred back to my GP and put on a weight loss programme otherwise I couldn't have the surgery and that waiting for surgery is dangerous because of how easily a stone can block a duct and such. He then proceeded to make it sound as if he thought I would find it difficult to cut out 'nice things'. I made him acutely aware that since I had been in the hospital, I had eaten fresh, lean meat everyday with potatoes and vegetables. I have cut out pretty much all fat from my diet and happily sat back while everyone else in the house has had chocolate.

I don't find cutting things out of my diet hard. I find it hard to be sitting in front of a man telling me that I have to go on a weight reduction programme and that it will take hard work and dedication, as though I don't know what they mean.

Said consultant sent me for even more bloods to make sure my liver function is okay which I totally get. And then he referred me back to the GP so they can refer me to this programme which could take months.

All the while I still have gallstones that could cause pain at any given time. I have no clue when I'm getting surgery so I have to live with this for however long, not knowing when it's going to strike and eating the most boring foods with no fun snacks.

It is debilitating living life not knowing when you're going to be in the worst pain of your life. I wouldn't wish gallstone/gallbladder pain on my worst enemy it is hell. It comes on suddenly with absolutely no warning and it can last anywhere from an hour to five hours. I have to sit with two hot water bottles, one on my front and one on my back, and not move. It makes me throw up, it makes me sob uncontrollably, and it makes me feel like such a failure.

So that's why I've been quiet recently. I've been dealing with lots of health things and have been spending more time trying to focus on me than anything else. HOWEVER, these past two days have been spent working tirelessly with my angel @brayndilyn to write some of the big fic coming this year. I can't wait to share it with you!! We love it and we hope you do too.

#That was a long ass post #sorry!! #Life update #health update #gallbladder pain sucks #that surgeon sucks #everything sucks #but at least I'm not afraid of needles anymore #that's something #the surgeon who I spoke to in a&e also like Grey's and reading so we had such a fun chat #she made me a diagram of the gallbladder and my liver and it's somewhere in my room #i kept it because it was cool and she treated me like a person which was refreshing

[majorxmaggiexboy]

One of Us is a Ghost

Sixteenth Century: 

Goody Addams escapes from Joseph Crackstone. Across the sea, a Mr. Addams settles into matrimony. The union produces six children.

Early Nineteenth Century: 

Miss Adamms becomes engaged to Mr. Bramblestoke. Two days before the wedding, she elopes with Mr. Herring. Mr. Bramblestoke becomes a poet after serving the shortest military career in recent history. Mrs. Herring becomes a mother. The little Herrings grow up and begin families of their own. The surname is discarded by the daughters upon their own marriages, and so the pattern repeats.

Early-Nineteenth Century:

Miss Goodfellow and Mr. William Jopson are wed. The move into a modest but comfortable lodging on Gee Street. Mr. Jopson is a tailor. Sarah grows flowers in little boxes along the windowsills. She is happier than she’s ever been.

Early Twenty-First Century: Wednesday Addams begins having psychic visions.

Wednesday is fifteen, and she is surprised.

Of the half-dozen visions she’s experienced up to this point, one-hundred percent of them have been glimpses of the future. Unless something drastic is coming, this appears to be the past. 

Wednesday has always been a quick study. She’s getting used to the visions. She takes in her surroundings impassively.

Behind her, an alleyway that would make a gorgeous crimescene. She is situated directly inside its mouth. Were she to step backward, the shadows through there are so thick that her black attire would render her nearly invisible to a glance.

In front is less intriguing. A beaten cobbled street, sun glaring off it, lined with buildings like the ones to either side. Footsteps, accented voices at varying volumes. 

A little further down, a child is bawling.

He’s clinging like saran wrap around the waist of a taller boy, wailing into his side while having his hair petted like a fractious kitten. Pugsley would know better. 

The taller one is in earnest conversation with a woman even as he consoles the little geyser currently soaking his waistcoat. The woman’s right hand is tied in front of her with bandages. The woman’s face is pinched, but she smiles at something the boy says. There are affectionate gestures, soft as a forgotten tomato left to liquify in the back of a refrigerator. Wednesday shudders. 

Taller One turns, looks toward the alley.

A locker rattles shut beside her. Mykynzy Fletcher and her clique of assorted stereotypes are staring. Wednesday stares back until they disband.

***

Wednesday hears a string break as the vision snatches her away. Clearly, timing means nothing to the powers of psychic torment. 

It takes a moment to orient herself. The past again. The deck of a ship, crouched between crates and barrels. 

She recognizes The Taller Boy eventually. It’s been about three weeks since she saw the marshmallows-and-gummi-bears family and none of them were particularly memorable. 

Nodding vigorously along with instructions being relayed by an older sailor, Tall can’t be much older than Wednesday herself, she decides. He looks like a brand-new retail clerk, new enough to still greet every customer with a smile and try to make smalltalk. Not yet broken into the kind of employee maintaining soulless eye contact while single-bagging the loaf of bread with the gallon of milk. 

As the older man walks away, Taller’s smile follows. And then drops like a corpse over a wall. He keeps looking back toward the harbor. Already regretting his life choices, no doubt. 

Then his face goes impressively neutral and he’s scurrying past Wednesday’s vantage point. 

Even with the broken string, she finishes her concerto with only a few missed beats. 

***

Taller’s name is Jopson, and if an amputation is necessary, odds are he won’t live long enough to put the bread and milk in the same flimsy plastic bag. 

Technically, he’s already dead anyway. Unless he survives this ordeal and then discovers the secret of immortality. 

She’s crept as close as she can while staying out of sight. Unclear whether it’s necessary to do so, but watching from shadows is an instinct. Taller is up on the surgeon’s table, half-propped on his elbows and taking it all respectably. He’s shaking like an irate chihuahua and looks like he’ll pass out if he so much as glimpses the mess of his right leg, but surprisingly coherent. 

Why he won’t look at the wound is a mystery. It’s quite ravishing. The flashes of lightning from the storm still raging outside are a particularly nice touch. 

The surgeon declares that no amputation will be necessary.

Wednesday’s shoulders slump just as Taller goes practically limp. For a moment, she thinks he’s just died. But he’s back up in a minute, gazing up at an older man the same way cats look at Christmas trees. No one should look at their boss that way. 

The man mutters something chintzy about scars and stories to tell.

Whatever’s in the bottle Taller is handed will knock him out flat within the hour, but he’s only distractable during the cleaning and sewing, with very little mewling about it. Instead he’s chattering sluggishly- increasingly so -with the older man and the physician. He’s also beginning to goggle at things as though seeing them for the first time. 

The doctor has nearly finished. Wednesday could do better, even with the questionable lighting, but it’s decent work. 

Taller murmurs something that gets an incredulous chuckle and a “What did you say?” from the men. It’s a long moment before he answers, barely awake.

“Who is she?”

Ah. He can see her. The others exchange raised eyebrows and grins. They assume it’s the drug, and maybe it is. 

He’s looking directly at her, but he can’t keep his eyes open.

Wednesday blinks at the book she was reading before the vision, adjusts the lamp by her chair, and resumes reading.

Taller does not appear in her visions again.

***

Until the week after Joseph Crackstone’s defeat. 

#the terror amc #wednesday 2022 #*wearily* chapter 1/? #wednesday addams #thomas jopson #there's no reason for this to exist and yet #somehow....there is More #i have no excuse #except that i wrote this p much exclusively for Me #not really content with it but at least i did it #oh you know just wednesday being totally normal about somebody's backstory wound #look at me out here just bullshitting my way to literary freedom #i had tried to go to sleep last night #got up and down no less than four times like ''ACTUALLY LET ME WRITE THAT. NO NO IT'S RIDICULOUS. BUT ACTUALLY-''

[thearchivistsjournal]

Day 189,

I slept… okay last night.  Not exhausted at least.  

Going to walk with Lin out to the main road and hope to catch James and family on their way into town for a ride.  We’ll go along with the plan we laid out yesterday and everything will be fine.  

I’ll be fine.  

*******

It happened again, but I’m fine.  

I’m not fine.  

I’m fine.  

*******

It’s been a long day, but not a bad one.  I think I’m feeling better than when it started even.

*******

Shortly after that first entry of the day, Lin and I said our goodbyes to Maiko and headed out for the road.  The plan was to spend at least tonight in the Village.  I may ride back with James and family tomorrow evening.

As it is, I’m spending tonight at Norman and Marva’s with the rest of the family.  Currently huddled under my blanket with a crystal.  I’ll try to keep things relatively brief so as not to keep anyone up.

Back to chronological order.

Lin and I reached the road (the dirt side road, not the main one) with plenty of time to spare.  Or so we judged by the lack of wagon and capy tracks in the mud.  I owe her for that though.  Both in getting me out of bed and out the door and providing a shoulder to lean on when even that short walk left me winded.

When we saw the family wagon coming up the path I soon noticed that it had both less produce and more people.  The whole family it seemed, save those already in town.  Even Antigone, homebody that she is.  Crowded enough that the two oldest siblings (Laios and Manfred I think?) were actually walking along beside.

Not so crowded though that they weren’t willing to make room for us.  It was… good to be back in this familiar situation after having missed out on it during these past few months.  There was a comfort to the familiar familial banter that I’d grown used to being in the middle of without being part of.  The stray cat that everyone liked to feed had returned.

Cass’s absence was almost as noticeable as the addition of more members.  Already in town apparently.  Doing them all proud, keeping up her apprentice work even with her mentor ill.

When I asked what the occasion was for the increased turnout, they told me that today was the solstice and they’d decided that for once instead of Norman and Marva coming to the outskirts they’d all go to the Village.  Lin started at this, having forgotten that was today.

Perhaps sensing my cluelessness, Antigone filled me in.  While less of an event than the equinoxes, the solstices are observed as well, usually with private family gatherings.  While they’re not the longest and shortest days by much (thanks to the equatorial location I suppose) they’re still significant  for heralding the end of the rainy seasons and get used to mark the last week of classes for children.  Normally they’d go until the market day following a solstice, but since this season the solstice is falling on a market day, the last day was yesterday.  And also (as I learned later) the last school season was ended a few days early due to my washing up.

Doing some math, we realized that the prior solstice would have been just a few days after I arrived.  The day I found myself in the ruined cathedral for the first time, to be precise.  Apparently if I’d not stayed in the library so late I might have run into Norman and Marva heading out from the Village to the farmhouse for the family dinner.  Or had I not slept in the next day (which I maintain was justifiable after the previous night’s ordeal) I might have met them on the road back to the Village a day sooner than I had been introduced to them by James.

Speaking of sleep, Cass is whispering at me to properly cover this crystal and stop keeping her up with my pen scratches.  I doubt tomorrow will be eventful, so I’ll just continue then.

<==Previous          Next==>

#writing #original fiction #serial fiction #sliceoflife #Writeblr #daily writing #epistolary novel #writers on tumblr #WIP #creative writing #literature #prose #writers #web novel #novel #journal #isekai #epistolary #fantasy #slice of life #fiction #my writing

[askthepsychic]

The room on the other side of the door is small and sparsely furnished. Clearly a room primarily meant for official business. As Rey looks around, her eyes eventually settle on a figure near what Rey first takes to be a window, though when she gets closer, she realizes it’s some kind of screen. As for the figure himself, he too is sparsely decorated, wearing little more than an ascot. His mane, coat and tail are all immaculately groomed, and when he turns to look at them, his deep blue eyes reveal eons of knowledge in their depths. “Ah. Rey, it’s nice to meet you.”

Rey nods “you as well, sir. May I inquire as to what name I may refer to you by?”

The stallion nods “certainly. You can call me Koenma. And if you’re wondering why I lack a cutie mark, such designations mean little in this world. One of the reasons deceased ponies often lose their cutie marks.”

Rey nods in understanding. “Got it. Koenma sir, I know why I’m here. How are we going to do this?”

Koenma smiles “well, there are a couple options we can turn to without relying on the power of someone like Vitalia or Aaron. For now, we’re going to consider both of those options in play. Look at my desk.”

When Rey does, she finds herself blinking in confusion. “Was that there when I came in?” She says, referring to the gold egg that has appeared there.

Koenma smiles “no. It wasn’t. But it’s there now. Rey, pay attention. There’s a reason we refer to the Trial of the Spirit Beast as an ordeal. If you accept that egg, the trial will begin. Over time, the spirit beast inside the egg will grow in accordance with your actions. If your actions benefit others, exceedingly likely based on your file, the beast that hatches from the egg will be benevolent, a guide. They will help you to reenter your body and return to life. If, however, your file turns out to be inaccurate towards your true self, and you act with selfish or worse, evil intent, the beast that emerges will be vicious. Ravenous. It will devour your soul completely. There is no possibility of coming back from this fate. It will mean the end of all that you are.”

Rey nods “I understand. An ordeal indeed. Selfish intent. Even if my actions do benefit others, it may not be enough for that beast to be friendly if my end goal is only to help myself. If I take that egg, it would be best if I cast off any concern regarding getting back into my body. I’ll need to be certain that I can fully dedicate myself to the good of others. I’ve never had trouble with that before, but this situation is new to me. An unprecedented variation of my usual situation. Okay, so the spirit beast is one option. What’s the other?”

Koenma sighs and says “the other option will take some time to get the ball rolling. In terms of paperwork and red tape, it’s basically the biggest headache Spirit World has to offer. In fact, even if you take the egg as your primary option, I’ll be working on getting option B ready anyways. Once the ball is rolling on option B, it tends to culminate much faster than a spirit beast.”

Rey nods “got it. So, now the big question. Time frame. How long would I have to train between the spirit beast hatching and my battle with Grogar?”

Koenma smiles “worst case scenario? You would have precisely three weeks. That’s if one: the spirit beast is slow to hatch, two: you struggle to understand its instructions on how to return to life, and three: Grogar breaks free in the shortest time possible. If all three of those things happen, I’m still confident in giving you an estimate of precisely three weeks.”

Rey smiles “and option B?”

Koenma sighs “that’s harder to estimate. Frankly, there’s no guarantee that we’ll successfully get the ball rolling on that one before Grogar breaks free.”

Rey nods “so my options are to accept the spirit beast and have at worst, providing I pass its test, three weeks to train up for a huge fight against an overwhelmingly powerful opponent, or don’t accept it and pray to the Allmother, you and every other deific entity in this universe that option B will be good to go sometime before Grogar breaks his bindings. Well. Let’s hope I’m truly the kind of person my past actions indicate.” She steps over to Koenma’s desk and picks up the egg.

A few moments later, she’s floating above Ponyville looking at the egg as Aaron floats beside her, Koenma’s closing instructions going through her mind. ‘From now on, you must keep that egg with you at all times. Even as a spirit, there are ways you can help others. Aaron has agreed to help you learn the ways you can do so. Remember, the spirit beast will feed on the energy produced by your deeds, and will grow in accordance with your intentions as presented during those deeds. Now, go and do good in the world. I need to get back to work on clearing the way for option B.’ Rey looks at Aaron “alright. So, shall we start with something simple?”

Aaron nods “certainly. But first, let’s make it a little easier for you to keep that egg with you.” He points at Rey and an energy beam shoots from his hoof at her, circling her waist and transforming into a belt with an armored pouch at her right side. “Armored on the outside, soft and snug on the inside. Perfect for carrying an egg of any type safely.”

Rey nods, opening the pouch and setting the egg inside, closing the pouch again once it’s snug inside. Then looks at Aaron.

Aaron nods, then smiles and says “I think you’re going to like what I’ve chosen for your first effort. Follow me.”

#askthepsychicofponyville #ask me anything #ask blog #original character #mlp #rey #aaron #koenma

[fumifooms]

Marchil crumbs masterpost

Because I can and I will. Someone already made a tiny one way back but I lost it idk if it was here or on reddit… And we’re so small that we have no tag… I can’t credit you sorry marchil warrior you are not forgotten. I’ll definitely updating this whenever I find a new crumb. We’ve already reached the 30 pics cap part 2 coming soon. They do interact a ton I suppose. As always it’s not because I put moments on here that I’m saying they’re inherently romantic blablabla.

Part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6 - part 7

My vision: Unstoppable force vs immovable object. Corrupt (money) bitter divorcee and corrupt (magic) hopeless romantic. Emotional constipation vs emotional intelligence. Streets savvy vs prestigious academic. Girl with the longest lifespan possible who has trauma over loss x guy with the shortest lifespan who has trauma over past romance. They would take their romantic interest to the fricking grave.  Halfling vs elf. Emotionally distant vs clingy and needy… Not that Chilchuck doesn’t seek her attention plenty ngl. By all means they are so incompatible and yet their dynamic is so delightful, opposites certainly do attract if Kui’s to be believed because these two constantly drift towards each other.

To me they're the embodiment of "If we want the rewards of being loved we have to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known". Oh actually that'd apply to Laios and Dunmeshi as a whole as well-

She’s his worst nightmare. Opening up to someone?? The audacity to ask that of him. She raises his blood pressure to dangerous levels. He would risk his life for her.

—

HIS WORST NIGHTMARE (what he needs). She's classified as a friend who won’t shut up btw Notice how on the dating sim chapter cover, the clicky hand is always on the choice he ended up choosing in canon except for two, Falin’s and Marcille’s. Meaning he may have hesitated on it, on telling her she was pretty? She’s front and center~

It’s notable that Marcille is the main victim of his teasing, he criticizes Laios and everyone plenty but teasing is done much more towards her than anyone else, and we can see that it is something he enjoys. Perhaps one of the things that put him in a good mood the most, besides alcohol and laughing at others in general lol. Here’s a post compiling a lot of that teasing: link

He often confronts her about things and teases/insults her but it's always without any real animosity, sometimes having problems with her actions but never disliking her.

She craves his approval? More likely than you think.

Chilchuck having a sparkly flustered Marcille on his mind and failing to pull her ponytail so she'd give him her attention the right way, then being devastated when she claps back lol. For as much as he teases her, she’s very much able to stand up for herself when it goes too far and to challenge him on some flaws he may have.

Marcille’s canon shapeshifter of Chilchuck is the most convincing one/last one standing! In which he was nicer because Marcille still had some trouble not seeing him as young and thus innocent. Which besides the whole age thing, her having an accurate but nicer version of Chilchuck in her mind is pretty flattering lol

In the earlier chapters they stick by each other the most, often sharing knowing glances and judging the other together. They share this complicity and "wow finally someone sane in this party" energy that none of the others have in quite that way. Comrades in disgust.

-----

He cannot escape her gossip, she will not rest until she knows all and has met his family and romanticized his life and relationships. She’s the one who pushes Chilchuck to be more open about himself the most. Which, we do also see her being jealous when Chilchuck opens up more to others instead of her, like pic below. Moreover, we see that she’s able to read him like a book to the point that it freaks him out!! Oh the horror of being known… Relationship goals, freak him out bc you understand him so well Oh can I just point out as well that they're the only ones who saw each other's succubus. Like wow knowing each other's most alluring form? Dayum

When doing her theory about what happened between him and his wife, the pictures where her roleplaying as his wife, like literally with her being a half-foot like in the changeling chapters and the mini chilchuck for a baby lmaooo. Which I just now realized that means Marcille’s question about if his wife has blonde hair is valid, we technically don’t know if he already liked blondes or if it’s an acquired taste. Give me a sec to recover from that-

But yeah Marcille is so people-obsessed that she catalogues every little detail about someone, like how Chilchuck complains when he has to wait after someone… She notices things and takes them in stride even if they’re flaws. (In first page, it's the bottom row middle panel)

She wanted to sleep in his bed when Izutsumi was being clingy and she didn't want to sleep alone <3

Here he goes to her to either help her stay upright or comfort her… Uncharacteristic of him but very sweet. What are you gonna do if she collapses on you big guy, collapse along in a show of solidarity?

He's been shown to make sure Marcille stays safe a few times as well, like below. No I will not accept "she's the healer of the party" as a full explanation. He really does get an arc, from not wanting to be anywhere near the battlefield to sticking by his party members. Unlike Laios, Senshi and Izutsumi they both tend to hang in the back in battles, I love how they often strategize together as well.

The reverse is also sometimes true. Especially with how non-shy Marcille is with physical contact, interestingly she's way less delicate about saving others than him lol.

He’s the only one shown to flinch when she makes a noisein the bath which leads me to think he’s the one most flustered by the whole Marcille changing and bathing close by thing, it prob doesn’t help that he has great hearing but yeah, he seems to be hyperaware of her presence in those instances and overreacts.

"Come with me and braid my hair every day!" Meanwhile Chilchuck is fighting for his life holding her at an arm’s length

I can’t believe this is on his ADVENTURER’S BIBLE DESCRIPTION like that thing is one big paragraph about his whole character and you allotted that important limited space for this. Kui do you hear yourself

Part 2 here

#Dungeon meshi #marcille donato #chilchuck tims #marchil #Marcille x chilchuck #Chilchuck x marcille #Funny story before I knew there was already a good ship name (marchil) i was using every other iteration like marchuck and chilcille #Shipping crumbs #i’ve never multishipped as much as for Dunmeshi it’s kinda wild #You will never know my next move never know what ship i’ll talk about next #This ship is so ancient and has survived the war for me. Ok peepaw let’s get me back to bed #Oh and pls don’t come for me for calling Chil money corrupt I don’t mean it that seriously i swear. Just in the money > friends sense #That we saw a lot from him at first #i got so much laimar crumbs while looking for marchil ones too. man these are tedious and tiring to make tho #i am every dunmeshi fan afraid of shipping's worst nightmare #does that make the community chilchuck and me Marcille

[texaspassportcenter2]

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#passport office San Antonio

[roseslaces]

11. Of the end of this life, whether it is material that it be long delayed.

But, it is added, many Christians were slaughtered, and were put to death in a hideous variety of cruel ways. Well, if this be hard to bear, it is assuredly the common lot of all who are born into this life. Of this at least I am certain, that no one has ever died who was not destined to die some time. Now the end of life puts the longest life on a par with the shortest. For of two things which have alike ceased to be, the one is not better, the other worse—the one greater, the other less. And of what consequence is it what kind of death puts an end to life, since he who has died once is not forced to go through the same ordeal a second time? And as in the daily casualties of life every man is, as it were, threatened with numberless deaths, so long as it remains uncertain which of them is his fate, I would ask whether it is not better to suffer one and die, than to live in fear of all? I am not unaware of the poor-spirited fear which prompts us to choose rather to live long in fear of so many deaths, than to die once and so escape them all; but the weak and cowardly shrinking of the flesh is one thing, and the well-considered and reasonable persuasion of the soul quite another. That death is not to be judged an evil which is the end of a good life; for death becomes evil only by the retribution which follows it. They, then, who are destined to die, need not be careful to inquire what death they are to die, but into what place death will usher them. And since Christians are well aware that the death of the godly pauper whose sores the dogs licked was far better than of the wicked rich man who lay in purple and fine linen, what harm could these terrific deaths do to the dead who had lived well?

#St Augustine #The City of God #Christianity #paganism

[hopesofawallflower]

June 7, 2022

Hi there. I am back with my inconsistent updates. On a rare occasion like this, when I'm calm, content (somewhat) and rational, I thought to myself, "Why not put an entry in the book?". Here I am. Well, to kick it off, why not start with something I'm moderately embarrassed about?

Since my previous update, I've done some very questionable things. I was frustrated, desperate, infatuated and I seem to have lost all logic then. I turned to apps that specialized in.... hookups. It was nice at first. Some of the individuals can strike up the smoothest conversations ever and it makes me feel like they wanted me, and they did, just not for the same reason I was hoping for. I just wanted to feel loved, wanted, needed. I met some nice individuals, but most of them were pretty nasty after getting what they wanted. I guess that's the price I have to pay for putting myself out in a world like that.

I don't know if it's normal, but I feel dirty, tainted and... lesser after that whole ordeal. Is that true? Maybe I am... it bugs me and I think about that from time to time. I'm just glad I didn't contract anything bad during that short span of stupidity. I guess I'll just meet people the conventional way from now on - actually meeting and talking to them.

Now that the dirt is out of the system, I want to talk about my lack of motivation to do literally anything productive.

I spend all my free time playing video games getting immersed in them. I barely even read now, let alone write. I don't want this to be the dying gasp of my passion. I'm trying my best to write even the shortest piece, excerpts of a plot I have in my head, poems, anything in hopes to rekindle my hobby.

Not just my hobby. I should really pick up anything other than gaming. I spend way too much time on that. I do have an interest to pick up cooking. Like actually cooking real dishes, not just instant / frozen food. I also have a guitar somewhere when I was trying to pick up music awhile ago. Maybe I should go back to that as well. I know, I'm just grasping at straws and I'll probably not even do any of those because of how thin I'm spreading my focus, but I don't want to turn a year older next year knowing that I did absolutely nothing productive for a year. Some would argue self-growth / self-care is productive too, but did I really grow...? Or am I just lazy? I'm guessing it's the latter.

I'm going to complete my military service in three months and I don't even know what kind of job I'm going to seek.

I guess that's it for this post. I would love to add more, but I'm all out of content. I might just be tired. I definitely have more going on. I shall update the rest in a subsequent post. I should probably head to bed.

Good night, world.

[captainofthetidesbreath]

A small thing I really liked about meeting Vandran is learning that as he grew to distrust what Uk'otoa told him and understand how hollow it is: "He just began to grow tired."

There were many possible reasons why Vandran did not put himself to the path of active resistance, why he chose to exit that narrative and leave things to fester: believing it not his problem or responsibility, pure cowardice, callousness about the consequences, indifference for how this affects others. It is said "he didn't care at that point; he just wanted to be done with it," but between his growing tiredness and just how existentially exhausted Vandran is? It doesn't feel like any of that. Simply, he was worn out.

And it's familiar, resonant with Fjord, who spends his time in Xhorhas slowly fraying. When Melora first speaks to Fjord, she offers the first respite from Uk'otoa in ages: "His will shall find you again, but until it does, rest." In the Kiln, there's a sense of Fjord being so tired that he cannot take any of it anymore; he admits to Jester he sometimes wants to run away to where nothing will bother him. He achingly tells the Nein that, upon learning Vandran has a peace: "I don't feel at peace, and that seems wrong." He immediately relates that unsettled feeling as one of myriad reasons he broke his pact. Fjord carried a burden, alone, with no reprieve in sight, and it was wearing him out.

But, what's exceptional about Fjord is his ability to keep going. He is relentlessly enduring, pun intended, and he continually finds the strength to carry on.

Not everyone has this strength and endurance, however.

There's a reason the core verb is "consume". It's giving and giving and giving—and if you don't want to give anymore, it becomes taking and taking from you. You're feeding something that will never be satisfied, and in the end, it leaves you exhausted one way or another: you're empty if you stay or worn out if you escape.

Vandran wanted to be done with it because he was tired. Yes, he made a poor and lesser choice in the end, but it was because he was exhausted. He was at that point where all you have energy left for is wishing for the ordeal to end.

And I really like that. It would've been so easy to pick any other reason, but it's actually that he did not have the strength and energy to go on. He lacks Fjord's indefatigable endurance, Fjord's ability to somehow draw from inside himself the strength to sustain himself.

In that, there is no great callousness, no cold indifference, no vast disdain, no malice, no cowardice. Just an existential exhaustion. So worn out by this thing that only consumes that he chose a path he hoped would give him the shortest distance to a reprieve.

Frankly? I find it impossible to cast judgment on Vandran for that. I love that, in the end, because of this, it is so hard to damn Vandran for what is both the easy and lesser choice.

He grew tired. That's all.

#Vandran is burnt the FUCK out to be perfectly honest. #Critical Role #Vandran #cr meta #CR spoilers #Critical Role things

[freifraufischer]

Erin Jackson is an American long track speed skater.  She grew up in Florida and was involved in inline skating (with wheels) and after watching several of her friends go to the 2014 Olympics on ice she decided to try it.  After only about a year on ice she made the 2018 Olympic team but she didn’t have the technique yet to be really fast.

This past year she won half the races in the sports shortest distance and was the world ranked number 1 at 500m.  Think the 100m in track and field in terms of sprinting.  

No black woman had ever won an Olympic medal from any country.  No American had won an individual speed skating medal since 2010.  No American woman since 2002.  The last time an American won the 500m was 1994.

Going into the US Olympic Trials she was the number 1 threat to medal for the United States.  But she slipped or stumbled and came in 3rd in a race where the US only had 2 spots.  The US speed skating federation had rules for if a medal favorite fell at trials but she hadn’t hit the ice and with clear and incredible pain they didn’t grant her a reskate.

The woman who won that race, Brittany Bowe was a childhood friend of Jackson’s and she is a 1000m specialist who was unlikely to medal in the 500m.  She gave up her spot so that Jackson could go.  Jackson who had been disappointed but calm through the entire ordeal said of her that the world knew what kind of athlete Bowe was before but now they knew what kind of person she was.  Bowe would a few weeks later get an extra quota spot and get to race the 500m anyway.  She would also carry the flag in the opening ceremonies.

Today with her friend looking on Erin Jackson won a gold medal in that race.

That is why the Olympics is compelling.

#erin jackson #olympics