#sometimes you gotta trap your husband in a time loop so he can keep his Best Dad Ever title

[innytoes]

Time loop au. (Been thinking about this alot) it can be whatever you want but I'm gonna suggest...

Ray cannon: day they play the Orpheum or Ray cannon adjacent: julie tells him the guys/band are ghosts.

-Ray's not proud of the way he reacted the first time Julie told him she was harbouring three dead boys in mom's studio.

He may have called Doctor Turner right in front of her. And called Victoria. Freaked the hell out. Made Julie cry. Talked about grief and delusions and hospital stays.

-When he wakes up the next day, glad that he'll be able to take Julie to see Doctor Turner at eleven for an emergency session, he goes downstairs. He doesn't notice that the clothes he put out on the dresser are the same as yesterday's. He doesn't notice he trips over Carlos' sneakers just like he did yesterday. Why would he? It happens so often it's not out of the ordinary.

-He starts to get an inkling when he realises they're out of coffee. He just bought new coffee yesterday! He checks his phone, and is confused to see it's once again Sunday.

-Thank god it was all a dream.

-It was not a dream.

-The second time, he's calmer. He doesn't make Julie cry. He doesn't actively freak out. He listens to her, questions her, and gently talks about maybe talking about this with Doctor Turner. He doesn't call Victoria right away, because in his dream, or last time, whatever, that only made things worse. He remembers he heated argument about how they should have moved, how he didn't listen...

-Julie is still upset, even more so when he refuses to go to Mom's studio with her, because he's pretty sure you shouldn't go along with delusions. But he's pretty sure he hears her crying herself to sleep, and he sheds a few tears himself. How did he not see this? How did he let it get so bad? He asks Rose in heaven to guide him, give him a sign of what to do, something.

-Third time. Still trips over the sneakers. Still no coffee.

He goes into the studio with her this time. He has a panic attack and blacks out, hitting his head.

-He wakes up in his bed. Checks his phone. Sunday. He bypasses the shoes. He heads straight out the door and comes home with a coffee for himself and fancy decaf frap whatevers for the kids. Also a bunch of pastries. Just in case.

-He follows Julie to the studio. He doesn't pass out this time. The song is good. The dead boys, ghosts, look excited and a little nervous to meet him. He welcomes them, even if shaking hands doesn't exactly work. They don't want donuts, they can't eat.

He tells them they're still welcome in the house any time, for dinner or to hang out. The bassist, Reggie, is particularly excited to hear that.

-He goes to bed, but not before giving both his kids a big hug and telling them how much he loves them, how proud he is of them.

-He wakes up with Rose's voice echoing in his mind, her perfume in his nose. "I knew you just needed some time."

-He checks his phone.

-It's Monday.

-He trips over Carlos' sneakers again anyway.

#oops this turned into a fic more than headcanons #julie and the phantoms #ray molina #sometimes you gotta trap your husband in a time loop so he can keep his Best Dad Ever title #fanfic #I wrote a thing

[randomsnakesimp]

Okay. I'm gonna do it. I'm gonna take the leap and say: Phobos is the victim (sorta).

Quick disclaimer: I am going to abuse plot holes and cartoon logic for my cause in a very nitpicky way. If you dislike that, I can completely understand, and I hope this warning will save you a lot of reading.

Also, this won't go into just headcanon territory, I'll put those in a separate post. Everything here I'll try to keep based on actual information from the comics and what I made of them.

That said...

Let's take a look at this scene:

(for a quick translation of the important part, the mother says: "No, Phobos, Meridian is meant for your sister. That's the law. The crown is hers.)

What we can see here are a few very important things:

1. Phobos is at most 5 years older than Elyon.

2. The name "Phobos" is not an edgy nickname he gave himself. Five-year-olds don't go around calling themselves Phobos. So his parents, for some reason, gave him that name.

3. His mother is very adamant about him not even touching the crown and reminding him of his sisters' birthright.

So, after establishing what I would call more or less facts, what else can, relatively savely, be deduced here?

- Since Elyon never noticed anything weird about herself, she can't have aged slower than earth children. So neither can Phobos. This would mean that, as she was kidnapped after her mothers death as a baby, he would have been five. So, he either tried his best to rule at age five, or the council we see as Elyon rules stepped in for him for a while

- this would then mean two things: we need an explanation as to why Miriadel, Alborn and Galgheita fled explicitly from Phobos (I'll give my explanation a bit further down) and second, Phobos' reign of terror wasn't even thirteen years, and a lot of that time he was a child/teen and could not even have been mature enough to rule.

- This also means that Kandrakar pulled up the veil when Phobos was at most five, likely younger, and that the so called "Seal of Phobos" also existed at that time, as both the veil and the seal are seen in the flashback depicting Elyons abduction. For Kandrakar, this, too, I will try to explain soon, but as for the seal, I find it most plausible that the theory @ror-witch used in their fanfiction, of the seal being a royal heirloom and named after each ruler, is true.

- His and his mother's relationship was neither as bad as some assumptions go, but neither was it that good, probably, or at least it wasn't in his perception. See how his memory is of her cradling the baby the entire time and talking more about his sisters birthright than about what he has/can do? Yes, it's only a short memory, but I think it's clear that it's a summary of what he remembers of his mother.

- Phobos desire to rule Meridian does not stem from something deeply sinister, but rather from a childish spite. Five year old Phobos probably just wanted the crown cause it looked nice and shiny, and he was fabulous even back then, but after his mothers words, he sulked and decided to show her. That's his motivation.

So, now let's go a bit further and look at some other things we can deduce from the rest of the comics:

- Phobos has a huge dungeon, a wall of roses that turn people into more roses if they touch it and his plan for the annihilation of Meridian is "Well, Cedric and I hide in the castle and...we'll see". He hates the people of Meridian, but he doesn't seem to have it in him to directly attack anyone until Elyon is there and even here, when he has her knocked out in their duel or locked up as Endarno, he isn't unnecessarily cruel. He's not evil in nature, he's more of a very dangerous child throwing tantrums. ( Cedric is kinda similar, and they both start losing it toward the coronation, but I sincerely believe that before that, there would have been a chance for them to come around )

- The only person he ever tortures or even hurts directly is Cedric. Because one, he likes Cedric and so gets more extreme emotions around him, and two, Cedric never says anything, and just plays it of afterwards, so I don't know if he even fully realizes what he's doing, like a child hitting someone. If Cedric ever just said "Stop it, you're hurting me", Phobos would probably need an entire week to process that input.

- Phobos is VERY reclusive, and he doesn't want anyone to have even pictures of him, and while that could be a God complex, I get some highly insecure vibes out of it, in a vulnerable narcissist kinda way, in that he is massively overcompensating. I gotta admit, though, that I cannot put my finger on why, so maybe take this with a grain of salt and decide for yourself if you agree.

- Kandrakar never orders the guardians to help Meridian in any way, just to make sure nothing oozes out. They likely pulled up the veil for their own protection, so Phobos wouldn't be able to spread far enough to become a real danger, rather than to protect innocent people, as clearly the Meridian people mean shit to them

- while the guards are widely feared in Meridian, Cedric seems to be viewed as... not very frightening or important, as some random merchant feels comfortable clinging to his cape (and rightfully so, apparently, as Cedric just tells him to piss off and doesn't care any further). This further leads me to believe that Cedric is rather unhealthy devoted to Phobos and his tantrums while their shitty ass reign leaves a lot of free space for unsuited people to become guards and tyranize the people.

- the King and Queen seem to have died in rapid succession, and shortly after the scene shown above, yet she looks perfectly healthy in that scene.

Now, what do I make of all this?

I believe the line of events to be as follows:

I don't think Phobos traveling back in time is a viable theory for mainly two reasons: I think his mother would be less chill around him if she saw/heard about his reign herself, and I believe that it would have been mentioned somewhere along the way if that were the case. Instead, what I believe happened is that the oracle had a vague vision of Phobos nearly taking over Kandrakar. Deciding in their random mood swings that today was a day of action, they had the people of Meridian informed that the next male born to a queen would become a dangerous tyrant, pulled up a veil and set their guardians to make sure nothing oozed out.

The veil, of course, made the people of Meridian feel trapped and a horror of the unborn prince who would ruin their lives spread.

So, when Weira gave birth to that prince, a full blown panic spread, so much so that she, in a fit of hysterical emotion, named him after that boust of panic. Of course, people tried to kill the prince basically from the moment he was born, and he was met with barely concealed resentment.

Soon after, Weira and her husband died - whether they were killed, or fell ill, or died in an accident, I have no idea, but I wouldn't completely rule out an assassination either aimed at Phobos and accidentally hitting them or the strain making at least one of them fall terminally ill.

Either the people rioted and Phobos' magic panic reaction or the leftover loyal guard was enough to fight them back, or the people succumbed to their fate at this point, slumping into the state of despair seen throughout the comics. But in the end, five year old Phobos had to be handed the throne. I assume the council still had some say at this point, but he did manage to get all pictures of him destroyed - this order was likely due to the fact that they were mostly caricatures.

So he grew up with the very volatile combination of a shitton of power and no one able to tell him if he was being stupid on one hand, and feeling unloved and unwanted on the other. He withdrew, likely also due to countless assassination attempts or things he perceived as such, and went into a negative feedback loop of being unable to mature and take responsibility, therefore being a shit ruler, therefore being hated, therefore having no one to help him, therefore being unable to face and grow from his mistakes, rinse and repeat.

So, Meridian was plunged into chaos, yet he seemed fine more or less just sitting in the new playroom he made for himself in the gardens, sporadically giving out an order or two and having generally no idea about anything that didn't directly concern him.

Enter Elyon. Now, she send him of the rails, as she was a danger to his lifestyle AND a reminder of all the sentiments he'd be drowning in alcohol if he wasn't too much of a recluse and education denier to know of that option. He doesn't even try. He just lets Cedric, the one person he trusts, handle her, like everything else, and somewhat plays along sometimes, when he feels like it. This is where he passes the point of no return and starts actually trying to kill people, culminating in him creating an army to wipe out Meridian. I still believe that even at this point, in his head, what he's doing is just throwing a nice toy out the window just so his sister won't have it.

#w.i.t.c.h. comics #w.i.t.c.h. #w.i.t.c.h. theory #prince phobos #Kandrakar is a shitshow

[shimmershaewrites]

Waltzing's for Dreamers, Chapter 11 (a Walking Dead story, Caryl AU).

Title:  Waltzing's for Dreamers. 

Rating:  M, just to be safe. 

Warnings: adult language, allusions to abuse, some angst. 

Characters/Pairings:  Daryl Dixon, Merle Dixon, Enid, mention of Oscar, mention of Sophia Peletier, past Carol/Daryl, mention of past Merle/Karen, hints of Karen/Tyreese, mention of Axel, mention of Negan (ugh), his wife, Amber, Dwight/Sherry. 

  Behind a cut.  Because this one got away from me.  Hope you don't mind. 

Waltzing’s for Dreamers

    More than six years after Vegas.  Early August. 

      “Pull over,” Merle orders.  “Gotta take a piss.  Probably ain’t the only one.” 

  A glance in the rear-view mirror suggests otherwise—E’s been playing that new game Oscar downloaded to her iPad, Temple-something or other, since the novelty of being chauffeured around in the Impala had worn off ten minutes into their hour's long trip—but Daryl don’t say nothing.  Recognizes his brother’s stall tactics for what they are and flips on his turn signal at the intersection.  Pulls into a gas station with a Texaco sign and a towering James Dean pointing the way and parks.  “You go on.  We’ll just stay here.” 

  “Suit yourself,” Merle shrugs as he unloads his big body from the passenger seat.  “You want something to eat, you’ll get your asses movin’.  ‘Sides,” he slaps the car’s hood, “damn thing’s hotter than hot.” 

  The double meaning of his words makes Daryl grumble.  “You best be buyin’.”  Heaving his own door open, he performs the same courtesy for his niece and the preteen barely even takes her eyes off of the screen in front of her as he nudges her toward the mini-mart’s entrance.  Still enthralled with her game and happily oblivious to the back and forth bitching between him and her jackass father.  “Ever occur to you,” he hisses as the kid passes beneath his brother’s bracing arm and ducks into the air-conditioned tourist trap, wandering a few feet away from them both, “we could be arrested for this?” 

  Merle grin falters slightly.  “Got your panties all in a twist for nothin’, Darylina.  Thought we’d turned over a new leaf, but I can see we still have a ways to go.” 

  Guilt only softens Daryl up so much and the best non-apology he can manage is to keep his mouth shut.  Let the subject drop for the time being.  “Man, just hurry up.” 

  “Fuck, but you’s straight up actin’ like a woman,” Merle mutters as he makes a beeline for the restrooms. 

  “We ain’t here when you come back,” Daryl calls out to him, “we’re in the car.  Waitin’.”  Soon as his brother’s out of sight, he tracks down his niece.  Finally finds her clear across the store.  Standing in front of a red counter and a display case full of fudge that sets his mouth to watering.  Flipping her ponytail over one skinny shoulder, he voices a gruff reminder.  “Know you shouldn’t be sneakin’ off like that.” 

  “I didn’t sneak.  You and Merle were just too busy fighting to pay me any attention.” 

  It still throws him, her calling Merle, well, Merle.  Logically, he knows it shouldn’t when his brother didn’t know shit ‘bout her for the first eight years of her life.  Still.  When it’s all said and done, he’d been in Sophia’s life even less time than the three or so years Merle’s been in Enid’s and he’s still haunted by the memory of that little girl asking if she could call him Daddy.  By his choice to walk out on her and her mama without saying goodbye.  It’s always there, that regret.  It never fuckin’ leaves him, no matter how many times he reminds himself he only done it for their own good.  No matter how many vices he indulges in to try to dull it.  It’s always there.  Just like the wariness the kid staring up at him has never quite managed to shake completely.  Yeah, she might have let them in.  Him and Merle.  But it ain’t escaped Daryl’s notice she keeps one eye on the door, always ready to make her escape should his shithead brother relapse into the fuckin’ mess her mama kept her protected from all those years, and he can’t say he blames her.  Not one bit.  “Weren’t fightin’,” he tells her.  “Not really.  Ain’t seen us really fight.”

  Those big, old soul eyes of hers narrow skeptically. 

  “M’serious,” Daryl insists.  “You ain’t.  Hope you never do.”  Nodding his head at the display case, he unconsciously swipes his tongue over his lips.  “Shit looks good.  Want some?”  He looks up sharply when a cotton-candy sweet voice butts into their conversation. 

  “I can give you and your little girl some samples if you’d like.” 

  “Ain’t my…” 

  “One of each flavor,” the cooing blonde entices.   

  “One of each?”

  Kid asks the question with an overkill of wonder, and Daryl has to bite back a smirk because there ain’t no DNA test needed to tell him the little con artist slipping her arm through his and tugging at the back at his shirt is his brother’s girl.  Naw, she’s a sweet and sour chip off the old block, and he knows for a fact Merle would be beaming at her right now.  Proud as a fuckin’ peacock if he weren’t taking the longest piss in the history of all mankind.  “Dunno,” he says, wincing slightly when the comment earns him a pinch to his side.  Looking back up at the woman, he explains.  “Gotta be gettin’ back on the road soon.  Don’t have time to stick around.” 

  “I can box them up for you.  Won’t take but a minute.” 

  Little E turns up her game, batting her lashes and pouting.  “Please, Daddy.” 

  Choking back a laugh, Daryl gives in.  Goes all in, really.  Those years of pretending with Carol—first as a loving husband, then as a man that was walking away from one big, elaborate sham—coming in handy.  “Alright.  Really do need to get a move on.” 

  They make out like bandits, all three of them.  End up back in that Impala, eating up the miles between Bakersfield and San Francisco before the girl’s mama can send out a search party.  Pull up in Karen’s driveway in the middle of the afternoon to find the woman herself waiting beside an idling U-haul, the concern on her face morphing into a relieved smile when she lays eyes on her daughter.  Then dissolving into a disapproving frown when she sees the kid’s chocolate smudged lips and the nearly empty box of fudge in her hands. 

  “I’d make her ride with you and Patrick, but I’m not sure you can keep both of them alive,” she mutters with a roll of her eyes.  No, ma’am,” she says, plucking the box of sweets from her daughter and pushing them into Merle’s chest.  “I think you’ve had enough, thank you very much.  Go wash your face.  We should have been at the airport an hour ago.  We should have been in Jacksonville with Ty and the team last week.  Got the Patriots in their house in less than a week, but I digress.

  “’Member now why me and you, we never made a real go of it,” Merle tells her with a shake of his head.  “Always been a real buzzkill, Woman.  Life of the fuckin’ party.” 

  Daryl elbows him sharply in the side.  Exchanges the bulging duffel bag in his hands for the box of candy.  “Merle.  Just shut up while you’re ahead.” 

  “Listen to your brother,” Karen advises over her shoulder as she marches up the shrub-lined sidewalk.  Checks to see what’s taking her girl so long.  “Enid!  We still have to go through security.”  

  “What?  Company jet not available?  Ow.  Ouch.  Dammit, Darylina,” he scowls, rubbing his already tender side.   

  “Stop bein’ a jackass.” 

  “Fine.  Somebody gonna tell me who the hell Patrick is?” 

  “Kid’s pet turtle.  ‘Member?  Had him since she was six,” Daryl reminds him as he pops the Impala’s trunk and slides the girl’s back pack over his own shoulder.  “Named it after some cartoon character.  Here,” he says, looping the bag over his brother’s prosthetic when he stands in front of him again.  “She’s gonna want this with her on the plane.” 

  “Sure you won’t come with me, Baby Brother?  Ain’t never gonna remember all this shit.  Don’t know what I was thinkin’.  Girl ain’t gonna care one way or the other if I follow her all the way to Florida.  Ain’t cut out to be no daddy.  Hers or anybody else’s.” 

  Daryl frowns.  “Now who’s actin’ like a woman?”

  “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Karen comments as she rejoins them.  Sizes Merle up.  “You backing out?  Because if you are…” 

  Merle clenches his jaw.  Straightens his shoulders and stands a little taller.  “Ain’t.” 

  She stares at him, like she’s not sure if she can believe him or not, the same way Daryl catches her girl doing sometimes, and he supposes that’s fair.  His brother ain’t really done nothing in the past to earn their trust.  But the sonofabitch is different now.  Daryl knows it even if they don’t, so he comes to the asshole’s defense.  One last time, hoping he don’t make a fool out of him when all is said and done.  “He ain’t backin’ out.” 

  A split second of hesitation and Karen nods.  “Good.  We’ve got a layover in Las Vegas.  Another one in Chicago.  I’m going to call you,” she warns as she walks toward the waiting cab.  “Check on Patrick.” 

  “Hear that?  That’s one stone cold bitch right there,” Merle tells him with a dawning grin.  “Startin’ to ‘member how me and her got along.” 

  Daryl’s brow furrows in confusion and the fog of memories dredged up with the mention of Vegas dissipates.  “You didn’t.” 

“’Xactly.  Made the sex…well, hey there, Darlin’.  Come to see me off?” 

  The eleven-year-old scoffs and snatches her back pack from him, works it over her small shoulders.

  “Enid!  Hurry up!” 

  Daryl chucks her on the chin.  Offers her a tiny smile when she turns her back to his brother. 

  “Bye, Uncle Daryl.” 

  “See you ‘round, Kid.” 

  “Hey,” Merle grouses.  “What ‘bout me?” 

  “Try not to kill Patrick.  ‘Kay, Dad?”  Then she’s off, racing to the cab and her anxious mother.  Grinning that coat hanger grin out the window at the two of them and their stunned expressions, their jaws still dragging the ground as the cab leaves their sight. 

  Daryl’s the first to recover.  He reckons it’s gonna take a while for his brother to come back around.  “Heard the girl.  Best protect that turtle with your fuckin’ life.  Listen.  I, uh.  I gotta get back on the road.  Square things away with Axel and the guys.  Was thinkin’…” 

  Merle, being Merle, is impatient.  Interrupts him.  “Yeah?” 

  “Was thinkin’ you were right.” 

  “Ole Merle’s always right.” 

  Daryl doesn’t even try to refute the bastard’s claim.  Doesn’t have it in him to poke holes in the natural high he’s enjoying.  “Bakersfield.  It ain’t home.” 

  “Georgia on your mind?” Merle drawls.  Winks. 

  “Man, could you just…what the hell’s this?” he asks, when a yellow package hits him square in the chest.  “Ass Kickin’ Beef Jerky?” 

  “Kick your ass right back to Mouse and your girl.” 

  He ducks his head, grips the Impala’s open door until his knuckles turn white.  “’Phia ain’t mine.  Don’t deserve that little girl or her mama.” 

  “Yours in every way that counts, Lil Brother,” Merle says, clapping a hand over his shoulder and giving it a brotherly squeeze.  “And that woman of yours?  You don’t just up and quit lovin’ somebody the way she loved you.  I know.  ‘Cause you ain’t never stopped lovin’ her.  Been tryin’ to fool yourself for a long time, but me?  I ain’t never bought it.” 

  “Yeah?  How come you never said anything, Asshole?” 

  His brother shrugs.  Turns toward the idling truck, but not without a glance back.  “Figured you’d come ‘round.  In your own sweet time the way you always do.” 

  “Things you don’t know.  Ain’t so easy as me makin’ up my mind, admittin’ I still love ‘em.” 

  “Never was.” 

  “Naw.  Wasn’t,” Daryl agrees.  A thought occurs to him then.  Out of the blue, and he pinches the bridge of his nose.  Sighs.  “That asshole Negan ain’t gonna be waitin’ for me, ready to take battin’ practice when I get back is he?  You sure we didn’t steal his car?” he asks.  Watching Merle climb in the U-haul after his bags, settle himself behind the wheel. 

  Merle shakes his head, slides a pair of sunglasses on his nose, and gives him a grin full of nicotine-stained teeth.  “Just borrowed it.  He claims otherwise?  Just ask him how Amber’s doing.” 

  “Amber?” 

  “Cheerleader that came in with her mama last week when they dropped off the Volvo.  Real pretty little piece of jail bait I’m sure his sick wife would just love to meet.” 

  “Dammit, Merle,” Daryl curses.  Disgusted and more than a little bit disappointed in his brother.  “Girl’s a kid.  Not much older than…”  He can’t even say it.  Feels too sick to his stomach to even think of somebody taking advantage of Sophia or Enid like that and he slaps his hand down on the car’s hood.  Swears some more.  “Fuckin’ hell.  Dirty piece of shit.  Girl’s a kid and you’d just let…”

  “Ain’t just lettin’ nobody do nothin’,” Merle is quick to cut him off.  “Prick’s days are numbered, thanks to that weasel Dwight.” 

  “Dwight?  What’s he got to do with...no.  Sherry?” 

  “Is probably filin’ assault charges as we speak, promised to go with the kid to the police station to file her own.” 

  “Wait a minute.”  Daryl’s frown deepens even further.  “Where’d you hear all this?” 

  “Got eyes and ears all over the place, Baby Brother.  All over the place.  That’s why I know.” 

  “What?” 

  “Time for you to go home. Running out of time.” 

  “What do you mean I’m running out of time?  Merle?” 

  “Mean what I mean,” Merle says cryptically.  Shifting the U-haul into gear and maneuvering it around the Impala.  “Daylight’s burnin’.  ’Member what I said.” 

  “Which par…dammit, Merle.”  He leaves, disappearing around the same corner the cab had, and Daryl can only wonder. 

 Running out of time for what? 

#The Walking Dead #Caryl fanfiction #Caryl #Carol x Daryl #stuff that I write #Waltzing's for Dreamers #aka What Happens in Vegas stays in Vegas fic #Daryl Dixon #Merle Dixon #Enid #mentions of Oscar #Sophia Peletier #past Merle/Karen #Karen/Tyreese #mentions of Negan #Amber #Dwight/Sherry #more #adult language #allusions to abuse #angst