HAPPYHAUNTT, a multifandom blog where the user mostly screams about their interests and posts graphics for their fics infrequently.
the user is named ollie, twenty-seven & uses they / them pronouns. below youβll find a masterlist of what youβll find on this blog & links to direct you ! the banners used in my posts are by @cafekitsune.
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i watched the burning grow as my hair filled with gray (buck&chim, post-lightning, @buckweek day 4)
chim, admittedly, panicks a little when buck refuses to pick jee up.
ok, to be fair, that sounds harsh. what buck did, when chimney's beautiful and perfect daughter ran up to buck with her mother's big brown eyes and a grin that chimney can admit is all him to beseech her uncle buck to go up, please, is to look at her like he's just been shot multiple times and say, in the saddest voice chimney has ever heard from him (including the time that he got so sad at being unable to come to work that he sued them) that uncle buck can't today, sweetie, i'm so sorry, do you want a cookie instead?
jee, after a big pout, accepted a cookie as compensation. chimney was not so easily assuaged. later, once jee is down for a nap, chimney corners him (walks up to him sitting on the couch).
"shirt off, buckley."
buck raises an eyebrow at him. "wow, in your own home, howard?" he asks, with exaggerated affront. "in my sister's home, you are propositioning me for an affair? what will maddie think?"
"maddie would've just pulled your shirt off," chim says, and buck grimace-pouts because he can't deny it. chimney wiggles his hand at buck. buck glares at him.
"you can't tell me what to do," he says.
"i'm your senior."
buck rolls his eyes at him, and, fair enough, chimney isn't sure why he thought that would work.
"i'll text maddie."
"maddie has eight more hours on shift, i can deal with her later."
"i'll text eddie."
buck actually snorts at that. "eddie knows not to worry."
that does make chim feel better, because if eddie knew what this was and was letting buck get away with it, it couldn't be too bad. still--
"i'll text bobby."
buck's eyes actually widen reflexively at that, then narrow. "bobby doesn't like texts," he says.
chimney stares him down. "i'll call him."
buck splutters. "you wouldn't"
"try me."
"he's playing geoguessr with michael today! do you know how long it took may, harry and i to teach him how to play geoguessr?"
chimney raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. "guess you better show me the goods then, evan."
buck grimaces at him in the distinct way a younger brother does when they're trying to decide if it's worth dueling you to the death. he decides against it, which is wise. if they woke jee up, she would definitely be on her papa's side.
(probably. unless she was in a gremlin mood that day. chimney has taught his daughter in the ways of chaos perhaps a little too well.)
in the end, he presumably decides it's not worth it, because he rolls his eyes and sighs in the most put-upon way possible before pulling his shirt over his head in a single motion. "happy?"
chimney goes for a retort, but the words die on his lips. he stares.
"h-" his throat is suddenly dry. "how...?"
buck's hand raises to wrap around the back of his neck sheepishly. the movement of muscle shifts the clear wrap around his shoulder, collarbone, pectoral, the dark lines wrapping down the length of them in fine lines moving with it.
"would you believe that may and albert both took pictures to send to me?" he asks, a little awkward and a lot fond.
chimney chokes a little. "albert?" he asks. "like, my little brother albert?"
"my brother in law and friend albert, yeah," buck's lips twitch at whatever look is on chimney's face. "he said--" a softening of his expression, a crack of something vulnerable. "he said that he was sure that i'd want to see it, when i woke up."
and that makes chimney stumble a little, the irritation in his throat fizzling out all at once, replaced with reluctant, unrepressable fondness.
it is so albert, is the thing, hopeful in a way that feels almost painful to the touch. no first responder would make a promise like that, even to themselves. it is, chimney supposes, why that line of work did not fit him, in the end.
"and you decided," he says, forcing himself back on track. "to tattoo it. on your human body."
buck furrows his brows a little. "what other body would i use?"
sometimes, chimney has no idea if buck is playing up this kind of shit to fuck with him or not. he's pretty sure he does both. "buck."
"it's cool, okay? i just thought-- it's cool."
"you got it when you died."
"but i didn't."
and maddie had told him that this is what buck has been going around saying, but chim-- chim doesn't know what to do with that, actually. he closes his eyes for a moment, tries not to hear the clap of thunder in his mind.
"this is really fucked up, you realize."
infuriatingly, buck shrugs. "hey," he says. "we're first responders. we all have things we do to cope-- i get new tattoos." his eyes soften, a little, at whatever he finds in chimney's expression. "i'm alive, chim," he says. "i just-- this helps me remember that."
"and we don't?" chimney feels a little fission of anger, helplessness that tastes like rainwater. "buck. if you need a reminder of that time you died, i can assure you that all of us remember that moment in full hd."
buck's voice is soft. "chim..."
"do you want me to paint a picture for you?" chimney asks, voice coming out faster than he means to. "seeing you hanging up there, giving eddie slack so he can lower you down, breaking your fucking ribs-- knowing that--"
"chim--"
"knowing that i let another brother fall?"
the words hurt as soon as they come out, and chimney feels grief like something dragged out of him, spread thin over time, space, love with nowhere to go except for all the places that it found its way into. buck watches him with careful eyes. kevin would've made a joke, about now, gentle and easygoing. buck is like him, sometimes, except for all the ways that he isn't.
one way he is: buck shifts forward, touches chimney's trembling wrist with gentle hands. "you saved me, chimney," he says, simply.
here is, then, the common thread between chimney's brothers, despite the time and distance and their proximity and lack thereof to life: there is a kindness to them that chimney does not know what he has done to earn. there is a life to them that chimney always falls short of protecting.
"you scare me sometimes, man," chimney says, instead of asking for forgiveness. he knows buck has already given it to him, anyways. "when you don't let us help with shit like that. when you-- when you think that the only way to remember that you're alive is to remind yourself of the time that you died. you can ask us, you know. we'd help."
"i know." buck tilts his head at him, considering. "i asked you for help, in my coma dream. you believed me." the words are careful, almost awed. chimney knows, after all these years, that buck treasures nothing more than something as simple as belief.
"i'd help you here, too," he says, needing buck to hear it.
buck smiles at him, all trust, despite it all. "i know," he says again. "you guys know me well enough to wait for me to wake up."
chimney thinks about glass windows, lines and roofs, brothers he is older than. "enough to take pictures of your stupid lightning scars?" he says, exhaling a little.
buck laughs, and what a miracle it is, for him to laugh again. what wouldn't chimney do to protect it.
"c'mon," he says. "it's a little cool."
chimney smirks. "not as cool as a rebar scar."
indignant blue eyes: "anybody can get stabbed by rebar--"
"oh please, buckley, you wish your brain was big enough that you could survive a rebar through the noggin--"
when asked later, chimney will insist that buck was the first to throw a couch cushion into chimney's face, forcing swift and forceful retaliation.
he's right, by the way-- his baby girl would totally take his side in a battle against their bright-eyed, newly-tattooed foe.
Come to think of it, it really is insane that my entire country is burning alive and literally no one in the rest of the world cares. Thousands of Indians are dying every day from the heat, it's 45+ degrees in multiple areas, the government couldn't give two fucks, we're getting severe warnings and red alerts, and not a soul outside of South Asia is speaking about it because why would you ever care about brown people
USA folks, that is a consistent temperature range hitting 113Β°. Death Valley temperatures. In Banda, it hovered between 116Β°-118Β° (47Β°-48Β° C) for a week straight.
This has been happening all month with little to no international media attention. Here are a few organizations you can check out for resources or to support:
so one of the largest open source data communities on the internet, data.world, got bought out by a company called ServiceNow, who has decided to fucking delete all of it by July 11th. they've given users barely any notice, no emails, just a fucking banner at the top and a blog post from June that gives barely a month to download your data before they fucking delete it all.
a bunch of archives of incredibly important government datasets like maternal mortality statistics are about to be deleted forever. in a regime where they're known to fudge numbers, we can't trust a lot of the data coming from them to not be altered. open source backups like those found on data.world are vital to being able to verify that the data coming from our government is still intact and not altered. and they're about to delete all of it.
i don't know if we need to start a petition or what. nobody seems to fucking care. there are millions of users on data.world and yet nobody is raising the alarm bells and it makes me feel like I'm going insane. somebody needs to do something. i don't know what to do. it feels like more and more of this world is being destroyed and dismantled. it's not only US centric data, either! it's all sorts of countries from around the world! and they're about to fucking delete everything.
the only things that won't be deleted are private companies who happen to use the paid version of their platform (which isn't accessible data to the open source community; some people have just been using their service to host their own data on privately)
and the kicker? this announcement was made... via an AI generated blog post. so not even any sort of human touch. just a generic, soulless announcement made by a soulless human about to take a wrecking ball to one of the more important websites that exists on the internet.
an example of some of the things that will be deleted on July 11th:
The sign many left wingers have subconsciously accepted moving right on covid and embraced lowering public health standards is when people seem to think βmasks should be mandatory in healthcare settings /airplanes β is somehow a radical position to take in an ongoing pandemic
its so fucking weird because "masks in healthcare" should be the default all of the time. Doctors and nurses are literally employed to go from sick person to sick person, treating immunocompromised people especially often.
Also, current wait times to see doctors are pretty bad (at least in America, cannot speak to there rest of the world though I've heard it's bad all around) and a doctor getting sick means dozens of patients have to have their appointments moved, some now needing to wait months longer for critical care, so doctors should be required to wear masks when they're working so they have a lower chance of getting sick and fucking over their patients especially the ones who routinely interact with actively sick people.
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Look, itβs a weird hill to die on, especially when I donβt really explain, but children deserve to experience fear, disgust, and discomfort in safe scenarios where they can process those sensations.
Media for children used to be scary and thatβs important.
βSince it is so likely that (children) will meet cruel enemies, let them at least have heard of brave knights and heroic courage. Otherwise you are making their destiny not brighter but darker.β
β C.S. Lewis
Someone mentioned how they were having a hard time creating a world for their fantasy fiction geographically because they kept reinventing the island of Britain, which also happened to my good close enemy George R. R. Martin. I would like to suggest North Carolina. I know that sounds absolutely ridiculous but North Carolina has an awesome geographic setup for a fantasy kingdom, I think. Inhospitable barrier islands, constantly shifting shoals in the sound, swamps with alligators, venomous snakes and carnivorous plants, lots of very flat and somewhat sparsely populated farmland, foothills, mines, mountains full of mysterious phenomenon that were originally very difficult to navigate and people still get lost in today. It kind of rocks.
There are actually 36 carnivorous plant species native to North Carolina, roughly half of all carnivorous plant species in the United States are found in North Carolina! I added the carnivorous plant detail because thatβs something I love about the state. We have so many fucking bugs that the plants keep evolving to eat them.
I love that giant man eating Venus flytraps are worldbuilding staples in untamed tropical fantasy settings but theyβre actually native to a small region in the Carolinas.
And I agree with the notes, the Chesapeake Bay + Great Dismal Swamp (partially in NC anyway) and the South Carolina Lowcountry would be good geographic additions to this.
βWhy donβt you use aiβ idk man beyond the obvious environmental and βthis machine causes psychosis and encourages people to kill themselvesβ thing I think asking the equivalent of a solid D student who is also a pathological liar if they can answer my question/do the work for me seems pretty fucking stupid
it's literally the evilest thing in the world to finally have time to write but then be tired. like wow you're telling me these two hours before going to bed are completely free but my brain is just Not Feeling It? fuck off
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I support Taylor Kelly and I love her to death but my girl did do all that. Like gaslight gatekeep girlboss but she diiiiid commit a serious breach of personal and professional ethics. Free my girl of course but her character exit was directly tied to her introduction demonstrating that despite her entrance into the 118βs orbit she was never going to consider them family. Hashtag girl betrayal. the last love interest with interiority and personality to exist on the show. Love you hater
she is a princess and you are a dragon. she will be married tonight. do not keep standing outside of her room like that, go inside. go get her. that is what proper dragons do.
not that you have ever been a good or proper dragon. when you hatched out of your egg, your eggtooth was too smooth. the other dragons were rough with you, put little holes in your wings.
you were not bold. you were odd. you liked rippling water and the shine of chitin when bugs scuttle and of course the movement of the stars. those were all acceptable interests albeit maybe not traditional. perhaps you had inherited these through some great-great-uncle or something. certainly a dragon may be wise, or clever, if they are not bold.
yes, you have been a great deal of a puzzle to the other dragons. your body is smaller and rather more soft than it ought to be. so speed should have been yours, perhaps - your mother said it would be like fighting a shadow. if a dragon is not aggressive, it may instead be cruel, sly; a backstab. but alas your scales - so iridescent that they almost shine like the moon at night, a glow from within - you are not a shadow, you are a beacon like the flash of a knight's blade. your father has said at least you would make a fine egglayer, a nice mate to a good male. a dragon like you may still be a good mother perhaps; and that is a fine thing to be; although of course it would have been better if you'd been a trove-hoarder instead.
what a dragon must not be is kind.
you have watched her now for six moons. what a good and proper dragon would do is to go inside and to snatch her. a very proper dragon would have kidnapped her many times over, but you will be the delight of your brood to princess-snatch even at all. when you catch her in your jaws and bring her home, they will love you, then. they don't think you're capable of it, but you are, because you're a proper dragon. you can show them that. if you go in, now, right now.
you are rather too glossy to hide in the shadows, so instead you have learned how to appear flat and round, a puddle of light. (how your siblings would mock you! a dragon should be matte, to blend with the night). you dapple your flank with mud. you perch in odd angles atop of trees, scuttle like the bugs you love - hither, tither, frantic.
what you must not do is fly with your wings full-out. alight, you will be limned by the moon's corona. you will be a beacon. you must remember this when (not if) you snatch her.
____
you found her because of the lake. this lake in particular was your favorite - nestled deep in the woods, between two mountains. it is very quiet; there is nothing to horde there so no other dragon bothers you. a gentle waterfall spills over into a deep cove, and there are many mossy caves you've spent your afternoons napping in. while it is not proper for a dragon to prefer such things, you like to lay in rolling tenure just under the water. you have become excellent at holding your breath, can do it for hours. it is the easiest way to appear as a patch of sunlight.
she was not sunlight. she was the night's joy. the dark press of water. her face at first concealed by many diaphanous layers. her breathing quick and quiet.
she had pulled them back to drink from her water flask. and there she had been: a princess. your first very-real princess. right there, only the reach of a single talon from you. if you had simply lunged then, you would have been able to take her easily, in one single movement.
but you did not take her.
she had startled you a bit; you'd been daydreaming about music, which you'd just discovered, and rather liked. you'd heard it from a little house while you snuck in and stole their sheep.
but you knew the sound of fear, of being followed. you'd been chased too many times, you knew what it looked like. the rapid jolt of fear.
you smelled her then; cinnamon and onyx, and perhaps that was what had blinded you. perhaps your mouth was just watering. whatever the case, you waited until she had fled back into the forest; and then you waited a bit longer. in her wake, a garrison of men, their hands rough.
oh. so they were not knights. they were just men chasing a young woman through the woods. perhaps they did not even know a real princess had been running from them. well, that was a relief. you are not good at fighting with knights, who have swords instead of cudgels. these were just men, so you rose from the water in the quiet way you'd learned from the fish. they did not hear you coming.
and besides. proper dragons do violence so well.
___
once you had smelled her you could find her, although such things have always been easier for you than for the others. you spend a great deal of time studying things - it allows you to analyze them. you have tried to explain to the other dragons that sometimes it is best to slow down, but of course no dragon should be slow.
at first you did not understand the confusion of the people's umwelt. they relied so much on their communication (only words and actions!) and what they could see with their eyes. you and the other dragons did not use these as much; but you liked prying out the little sonic differences between hello that means "i like you" and hello that means "i don't like you."
so it took you a while to learn that you were responsible for what had happened to her. men had gone missing, and even bad men going missing makes a big fuss. (you know that if it had been girls missing, it would be okay. many proper dragons steal girls because it will not bring a knight to their door). for a while she had been trapped on the palace grounds. it was determined that it was no longer safe for her to be just a princess, she must undergo some human transformation and become a wife.
even so. you had gone looking for her (only to study, of course, so you may know how to snatch her best). but that night you saw her descending from the window of a castle, quick and agile, moving like a whisper, clad almost entirely in black. you could see her quite well of course, although you were not seeing her; but instead her heat and her smell and her sound and all the other sensory noise all humans give off.
you followed her, keeping yourself in a cloud so you appeared as if mist. she stole off into the woods. you were interested in that, and watched her scuttle - although of course you could have taken her then, you wanted to study your prey as best as you could. she did not seem to do much in the woods, only run around cry into her little hands.
she appeared to be looking for something. she did not get far that first night; scurried back to her bed. over and over this happened - she would run as far as she could, only to go back again. it seemed rather boring to you, but of course you had been free your whole life.
and then one night - finally, she arrived at the lake. she sank to her knees then, her hands pressing into the water. her head tilted to the sky. her dark hair spilling in a caught breath behind her.
this is how you heard her voice for the first time. when she came again the next night, she did so more quickly, more assured. straight to the lake, as if it had called her.
she had skipped a pebble over the surface of the water. this action was dangerous, because it almost hit the sail of your wing. you had structured yourself very finely to look like a rockslide.
"three months." her voice was like her: it was deep and smooth and dark, a low violin string. "they want me to marry that bastard in three months."
and then she cried into her hands again, and the sound of it almost broke you.
you followed her maybe more than a proper dragon should, after this. more than just back to the castle and her bed. you hid along her daily walks and watched her in the throne room and saw her out riding horses. she was good with dogs and nice to her people and very much a proper princess, although you had heard it said a proper princess ought not to slip out at night and run around barefoot through the woods.
you discovered she is terrible with directions. you have often had to make a path more clear so she could get home again. she cannot hunt better than an egg; you have had to kill fish and push them subtly up to the shore.
but she appears to love the lake as much as you do. you have seen her read by candlelight (how foolish. the entire woods saw her each time). you have seen her build little paper boats to float along the surface. you have seen her strip her many layers and dive in, have seen her lay with her belly to the sky, floating like she is suspended by the hands of darkness itself.
oh. so she loves the stars, as well, then.
__
you must go in. she will be married tonight. that is a human thing, but you have since learned what it has meant. she will go to somewhere else, and you will not see her again, maybe ever. and then how will you be a proper dragon? go!
you have made yourself in the form of a gargoyle, hiding in the white stone. you can see into her room; and the tapestries that seem unlike her. everything in her room is very bright, which is bad for a proper dragon. there are many knights in the hallways and in their rooms, and their smell is itchy and repugnant to you.
her dress is white, which does not seem like her. you have only seen her wear black. she is sitting at some kind of desk, and she is crying again. she smells of cinnamon still, but moreso of grief. you can feel the heartbreak in her as if it was inside of you.
you cannot watch her cry anymore. you have watched too often without moving. that is shameful.
you nose the door open. you can move quiet, because you are not very big. she is within a cave of you, then a wingtip, and then she is standing up, looking into your eyes.
"it's you." her hand on your jaw is warm. "i thought i was imagining you, you know. i turned around that day. i saw what you did to those men. i have been looking for you since. i told everyone that i had an angel to protect me. they locked me in here anyway."
you are not an angel, you are a dragon. you have to keep your wings locked tight or you would explode the walls of this place. it makes you feel big, suddenly. you are not used to that sensation. you do not like to be locked in a tower. you believe maybe the princess does not like to be locked in a tower either.
you take her in your jaws. she is very small, and does not resist you. although you are not a strong flyer, you must take off in a single push. any other movement would be too slow. you must also hold your breath so you do not smell her, the clove and cinnamon and little bird of hope. your mouth would water and you would drop her.
against the full moon, you do the thing that is impossible. you stretch yourself out all the way, a bold and beaming arrow, and you fly. you can hear them cry about you now, loudly. a banner that would strike pride even into your father: dragon. dragon. dragon.
on the eve of her wedding, you snatch the princess from her tower.
an arrow whisks for you, and then dozens, and then hundreds. you are not afraid of pain. you have learned long ago how to fly with holes in your wings. you hold her very gently still, and you push past the smell of your blood.
in the night you are a star. someone somewhere could look up and see you and make a wish.
there will be another lake, you decide. you can find another lake. somewhere very, very far from here. however long you must fly, however long you must hold your breath: you will take her home, because you are a proper dragon.
___
sometimes they come for her, your treasure. you have built her a little castle here, deep in the forests off the map. and of course for you: a silver round lake like the shift of her iris. you bring her books and she brings you bugs to study. you let her saddle you, and together you ride through the clouds and fog banks. she is a shadow on your back; a warm and velvet thing. she makes you music and lives the way she should; free in the night like a promise.
but they do come. you have stolen a real princess, and they do not want her to be a princess. they want to make her into a brood mother, or into bait, or into prey. they always look into the caves first; into the places proper dragons stay. they are real knights, not just men with sticks. they are loud and their smell still makes you itch.
but she has made you brave now, and cunning. if a dragon is not big, it should be cunning. and since you are a proper dragon, and since your treasure is your most precious thing, you lay in wait.
let them come. you will let the light drip off of you, and then you will pour through them.
afterwards, your princess will tell you a story around the fire. she will patch your wounds as she did that first time. she will sing to you.
and in that moment, neither of you will be a title nor a story. she will just be herself, and you will just be you.
Sorry to rant, but I'm tired of being told the reason I'm depressed is because I never leave the house and I have no friends and my life revolves around just being a mom. Not because it's not true, IT IS TRUE, but...what am I supposed to do? Do you know how hard it is to make friends as an adult? Do you know how hard it is to make friends as the mom of a <2 year old (and a 7 year old with special needs)? I can either bring the toddler with me, in which case I'm limited to meeting up with other moms of similar aged kids, or I can go out after they're asleep, and none of the kinds of things I'd like to do happen after 7pm. Book clubs, writing groups, etc. all happen in the afternoon or around dinner time, IF THEY EVEN HAPPEN IN PERSON AT ALL. Half or more of the groups I CAN find are all virtual/online, which I totally get for convenience purposes, but also people need to be around other people!!! I need to be around other people, but it feels like it can't fucking be done. So I guess I'll just be miserable forever lol.
I genuinely believe that the new SW trilogy wouldnβt have flopped out into irrelevance like it did if they hadnβt dumped Finn on the side of the freeway like a new pet rabbit the week after easter
Anyway in my heart Finn became a Jedi alongside Rey and inspired a Stormtrooper insurrection and Kyle Ron went back to his mom like he should have day fucking one and that angry redhead dude blew up with the star destroyer and Poe got to make it happen and at the end Rey doesnβt give a shit who her bitch ass non-palpatine parents might have been because she gets her new family like she needed and palpatine stays dead at the bottom of his musty hole like he should have and Finn and Poe give each other approximately 130% the amount of lingering meaningful looks and then one of their run-together-to-reunite moments results in a heat-of-the-moment make out like it should have and Luke and Leia meet in person a minimum of once so she can sibling slap him at least once for being a useless dramatic old hermit for a billion years and tell him to get the Chanel boots back on and stop being a sad hobo and then for no reason at all there is an ewok style moon of Endor forest party at the end like God intended
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I still think the baby box is one of the most awful moments of the Buckley parents (that we see on screen).
I understand not having a baby box for Buck because when he was a baby, their other child was actively dying. I'm not thrilled about it. It's not great. But it's understandable, to an extent. They could have his later, though, but the point kinda stands. I kinda get it.
But showing it to Maddie as an adult while Buck was in the room ? Like, it wasn't going to be obvious Buck would ask about his ? And then just not answering him at all ? No apology? Nothing ? Chim had to be the one to say something, anything to make it a little less awful for Buck (and let's be real no one at this table believe they have a baby box for him).
hot take possibly? but i actually think itβs okay for things to be marketed for adults. itβs literally okay if things arenβt suitable for children. i feel like we are losing the plot