#Hoo boy two more chapters left

[romanyeva]

Just had to talk a friend down from a two cakes crisis. Her cakes - meaning her fic - are absolutely fine, but she felt a little down and checked out the rest of the dessert table. She got caught up in the whole comparison thing. "Oh man, this fic is way better than mine 😞."

And hoo boy, have I ever been there. When I was writing prolifically, I just wouldn't read. I couldn't because I knew I'd go into that fic measuring mindset and declare myself the loser, have to step away from the keyboard and stare out the window a while. And if I had an exchange deadline? Absolute worst timing.

Not everyone goes through that of course, but it's more common than you think, even with so-called established writers. I've seen people delete wips or even their whole account over that burden of doubt. So here are some possible tips to crawl out from under that burden:

Table it. You're done for the day. You've been staring at that cursor for too long. You have no perspective on your work anymore. Go do something else: play with your dog/cat/fish, go for a walk, eat something, go to bed if it's late.

Re-engage with the source material. Watch an episode, read a chapter, listen to that podcast, whatever it is. Find that voice in your head that sings in harmony with the source.

Read positive comments left on your previous work. Trust what they've told you. Because the liar here is your doubt, not your readers.

Hit up that friend you trust and ask them to tell you your strengths. Even if you don't believe it right now, you have strengths as a writer. Maybe it's worldbuilding, maybe it's dialogue; your friend will give you concrete examples. You don't need a beta right now, that will come later.

You're not alone. This is a community. Even if it's a rarepair or gen fic in a niche fandom - and especially then! - someone will be so happy that you brought that cake to the table.

[tobiasdrake]

Fun Fact: Even in space, ACAB.

Let's talk about Jaco: The Galactic Patrolman, a somewhat more obscure manga compared to Dragon Ball that Akira Toriyama wrote in its setting.

For the most part, this is a short and fairly simple story. It's primarily a character drama, with the developing relationship between Jaco and the scientist Omori as its central focus.

The manga is surprisingly vague about its connections to Dragon Ball for nearly all of its length, until its final chapter. Jaco is here on Earth to thwart some vague threat sent to the planet from a world of hostile aliens. It's only at the end of the manga that we learn he's talking about Goku.

Galactic Patrol detected an Attack Ball leaving Planet Vegeta and making its way to Earth, so they sent Jaco to... assess the situation and then make a decision about whether or not to do anything.

In his defense, the Saiyans are the most powerful race in the universe. I can understand why he doesn't want to fuck with a full-grown Saiyan warrior. Nobody wants to fuck with a full-grown Saiyan warrior. The most that the finest police force in the universe can do against Saiyans is to try and nip them in the bud when they're babies.

It's interesting that Galactic Patrol doesn't have Scouter technology. I wonder if that proprietary? Frieza might have a patent.

But at the same time, I don't want to be too sympathetic to Jaco because. Well. He sucks.

Galactic Patrol sucks. That's kind of the bit. Jaco is a self-absorbed little shit, utterly devoid of empathy or compassion for the people he polices. He's stranded on Earth right now because he wasn't watching the road while driving.

Jaco's a prick, but what little we learn about Galactic Patrol as a whole doesn't make them sound much better.

This one time Jaco accidentally pressed the Extinction Bomb when he wasn't supposed to and wiped out a planet. Hoo boy, was his boss mad! Gave him a real talking to before giving him another Extinction Bomb and putting him back on patrol.

Universe isn't going to police itself, y'know. Someone's gotta be out there very occasionally trying to stop those real estate genocides.

For his part, Jaco's in it for the aesthetic. He likes the image of being a cop, and he spends his time practicing looking cool for when he presumably dispenses justice upon the criminal element.

But his interactions with the common people are filled with condescension and menace.

Like I said, this is the bit. Jaco is a self-important thug with a badge, with the initial conflict stemming as much from trying to keep him from doing something awful to the community under his jurisdiction as from trying to solve his problem.

Ostensibly here to protect Earth from the impending arrival of a Saiyan threat, he is as much a threat to this community as the invader he's here to assess. Without Omori there to guide him, he'd be killing people left and right.

He fits in pretty well with the cast of Dragon Ball, many of whom at least begin their tenure with a degree of amorality to them. Omori himself is a bitter misanthrope ironically thrust into the position of having to convince Jaco not to kill people.

And then there's the manga's biggest Dragon Ball connection: The introduction of Tights.

Any reader who's been picking up on the Dragon Ball-ness of this universe will know immediately where Tights came from. Her name pun gives the game away. Just like how the final chapter clarifies Jaco's target as the young Goku, we get to see the familiar faces of Tights's family as well.

Bulma basically solves the entire plot singlehandedly.

Even as a little kid, the universe's greatest heretic remains unparalleled in the field of game-breaking super-intelligence. Bulma OP do not nerf.

Again, this speaks to how little of the manga is actually about the plot. If this were a story-driven manga, having a character from another manga show up in the final issue and solve the plot in the span of two pages would be pretty disappointing. But since the plot is just an excuse to make these characters interact with one another, it doesn't really matter.

We aren't here for the story; We're here for the relationship between Jaco, Omori, and Tights. With that in mind, Baby Bulma waddling up and going "I fixed the spaceship; Are you stupid or something?" is hysterical.

For her part, Tights lives up to her family legacy of being super-brilliant.

She graduated from college at 16. She's a genius like the rest of the family. What she's not is interested in science and technology. Possibly as a justification for why we've never heard of her before, Tights goes against the mold for her family.

She honestly seems like something of a free spirit. She lives in East City when we meet her, famously the city that Nappa wiped off the map, while Capsule Corp and Bulma's family are out in West City. Rather than a scientist, she works as a body double for a famous pop idol.

As a publicity stunt, they're going to launch an idol into space. Tights's job is to impersonate the idol so she can die in the inevitable disaster instead. She is bizarrely chill with being paid a huge sum of money to get stupidly killed. Much like Bulma, Tights has a terrible sense of self-preservation and is willing to take on incredible risk for the sake of achieving a personal goal.

Tights is the best character in the manga. An aspiring sci-fi novelist who agreed to probably die in space for the sake of the experience. This family gives zero fucks.

And then there's Omori himself.

Despite its title, Omori is basically the main character of this manga. He's the one whose life situation is most heavily scrutinized. This is his status quo that Jaco and Tights enter. Similarly, Omori is the character who undergoes personal transformation as his experiences with Jaco and Tights help him find hope in connections with other people again.

The three characters click really well together. So well, in fact, that Dragon Ball would end up recycling the setup of Super Alien/Crotchety Old Man/Spunky Young Woman for one of the best dynamics they ever wrote.

This is not a copy/paste; Cheelai, Leemo, and Broly are all distinctly separate characters. but you can still feel the barebones aesthetic of Tights, Omori, and Jaco in their dynamic.

So. Yeah. Overall, for what it is, it's a cute little short story about a group of characters just living lives in the world of Dragon Ball. It's the kind of thing that the franchise needs more of, and still does to this day: An opportunity to flesh out the universe a little but also just to let us live in it through the eyes of someone else.

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

Excessive Force : Tom Ludlow x Fem Nurse Reader (COLLAB W/ THE INCREDIBLE @johnwickb1tsch) - Chapter One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen Seventeen Eighteen Nineteen

TW: noncon, angst, trauma, PTSD, don’t read this if you like hot doctors named Julian (he was probably an actual sweetheart in canon, but we decided to flip that around in this, so read with that in mind)

You really should have foreseen it, before letting yourself hang out alone in the breakroom. But you are tired–exhausted, actually, and you can only blame so much on the work at hand.

Tom fucking Ludlow.

You find yourself grinning like an idiot at your sandwich–which is exactly how Dr. Julian Mercer finds you, of course. You don’t even fucking hear him approach. He just appears at your side like a ghost, and you nearly jump out of your skin as he says in a low voice, “Y/n.”

“Jesus Christ,” you wheeze, clutching your chest. “Julian…”

“Maybe Doctor would be more appropriate.” It probably would, but you’re not sure if he’s asking for this out of the cold indifference his tone suggests–or that other little extra meaning it has for the two of you.

“Okay, Doctor Mercer. Creep around like a fucking ghost much?”

“No. You were just distracted.”

You blow air between your teeth. You really don’t want to fight with this man right now, but it feels like he’s spoiling for something. “What do you want?”

He takes your hands in his, running gentle fingers over marks on your wrists that have now mostly faded. You hate to admit it–but this careful, questing touch sends a thrill across your skin. “The animal,” he growls under his breath. “Clearly no clue as to what he was doing.”

Hoo boy, was he wrong about that.

“Did you have a safeword at least?”

“No…?”

“Fucking amateur.” 

You don’t know how to tell him, that rendering sex absolutely clinical with boundaries and safewords beforehand just doesn’t do it for you. You just…trusted Tom not to hurt you. And he didn’t. 

“Julian…”

“Doctor.”

“Yeah, that. What do you think you’re doing?” You try to pull your hands away, but he holds on, just firm enough to keep you. Despite what Tom likes to taunt, Julian is not little, or weak.

The look in his eyes is that of a man drowning.

“Losing my mind?”

“You are being ridiculous. You have got to let it go.”

“I’m trying, but I can’t stop thinking about you.”

This is absurd. Men do not lose their shit over you. They use you, then throw you away at their first convenience. You give a fat sigh that you hope conveys your annoyance. 

“Julian, have you seen the women that walk around this hospital? Better, Have you seen the women in your BDSM club? Have you never thought of trying one of those girls out? I mean, they are into the same stuff.” 

His thumb presses on the dark marks the belt left on your wrist, making a little diffuse ache light your skin. “You are clearly into BDSM, y/n. Just the unsafe way of doing it, I suppose.” 

Okay, now he’s just plain pissing you off. Once again, a man insinuating that you’re too stupid and naive to advocate for yourself. Too weak to take initiative, too gullible to know that you have to. You wrench your hand back from him, and he glares after it like it called him a dirty name. “Are you kidding me?” You say, not hiding the bite of your words, “and setting people on fire is just so safe, right? Whipping someone’s feet is the safest thing you can do in sex, yep, boy howdy, you’re absolutely right, Julian. How stupid of me.” 

Your aim is to hurt him with your words, although now you’re regretting it when he looks back at you with those big, brown, sad orbs. Fuck, you can just never win with this man and his multiple personalities. He runs a hand through his hair. “You’re with him, then?” 

“I’m…” you take a breath and try to step outside of yourself for a minute and view the situation objectively, just like you learned to do in therapy, and what you’re seeing is a misguided man who doesn’t know he can bag any freaky woman he wants become overly attached to you because he was vulnerable with you that one time. “I’m not.” How do you word it without sounding pathetic? “I’m not that great of a catch. I promise you there is a much better person out there for you.” 

“I don’t think so,” he says quietly, intensely, sending a shudder through you that freezes and burns all at once. “Do you love him?” 

“What?” You ask incredulously. “I just met him.”

“Well, then, I still have a chance.” 

Your fist clenches unconsciously, ready for a fight. Maybe a metaphorical fight, but a fight nonetheless. “No,” you tell him, swallowing your nice, “you don’t, Julian.” 

“What if…I promised not to punish you?”

This does make you pause, and you swear, not because you’re actually considering it, but because you are surprised he would even think to compromise his needs, for you. 

It’s a heady feeling, if not entirely misplaced.

“No,” you answer, much too late. “No, no, nope.”

“I can see you’re intrigued.”

“No, I’m…flabbergasted. It wouldn’t be any fun for you.”

He looks you up and down, blatantly checking you out. You swear you will never get used to that look in a man’s eyes, trained on you. “I wouldn’t say that.” Then his attention turns back to your wrists, tracing the marks Tom’s belt left again with fascination. “Just let me…do this to you. God, the things I would do to you.” He inches closer as he says this, until before you know it you are standing nearly chest to chest, and your heart is beating at a mile a minute.

You have to try twice, before you find your voice. “That’s exactly what scares me about you, Julian.”

He dares to touch you, turning your face up to his with his palm on your jaw. “That you might like it, y/n?”

You take a deep breath, and you step back, away from Julian. Away from your sandwich too, unfortunately. But you guess you’re going to have to write it off. Or circle back later. You have no further clever quips to offer Dr. Julian Mercer. For lack of a better word–you flee.

At the nurses’ station a bright and cheery reminder of someone else’s devotion awaits you. A happy bouquet of sunflowers, with a simple card that reads, Dorothy, Thinking about you. Glad you’re not in Kansas anymore -T It is just the boost to morale you need, after your chilling little interlude with Julian.

However, you don’t get to take them home. They disappear while you are working, and you think you know who is to blame for the childish act of revenge. Rather than letting it drop, you decide to prove to Julian that you have boundaries and he can’t just push you around like this. 

You catch him as he’s about to get into his car, and get Deja Vu from the scenario. The parking garage isn’t well lit, empty of other humans, and damp with oppressive LA heat. Maybe it’s not the best place to confront a man, but you never claimed to be a complete genius. And, now that you’re here…

“Julian, do you know where my sunflowers went? From the desk? Tom got them for me.”

He looks down at you with dark eyes. “Fresh flowers are a health code violation. I had to dispose of them.” 

And you thought Tom could make you livid; Julian is here proving that he can spike your anger from a two to a ten in one simple sentence. “And what about the flowers you got me that stayed at the desk? Huh? Those were fine, right?”

He shrugs. “No.” 

“So, what the fuck?” You’re raising your voice, feeling the heat of anger singing through the blood in your body like a vengeful choir. Your fist clenches to actually punch him—God, you want to. 

“I’ll buy you more flowers,” he says, as if that’s going to fix the problem. 

“I don’t want your flowers,” you growl, “I don’t want you, Julian!” 

Before you know what’s happening, he has you gripped up in his hands and pressed against the door of his car, mouth on your own, bullying inside to suck and bite and bruise. You try to push and kick and thrash against him, but his long body is pressed firmly into yours, holding you steady against warm metal. His blunt fingers dig into the flesh of your upper arms and make you gasp, which allows him further entrance into your mouth.

You can’t fucking breathe with him latched onto you like this, and your frantic hands reach to tear at his scrubs, his belt, his skin. He pulls away, blessedly, panting and wild eyed, and you immediately start in on him. “Get the fuck off me, Julian.” You writhe in short, shallow breaths, lungs crushed by his heavy torso and unable to entirely fill. 

“This is what you want,” he says, ignoring your demand. “You want someone to take advantage of you. Make you, force you. And if that’s what you need, that’s what I can give.”

“I don’t want that,” you reply. “I want the opposite of that! Get off me! I will scream.” 

His mouth edges into a terrifying smile. “You think anyone’s going to hear you?” He asks, looking around the empty parking garage. “You think anyone’s going to save you if I decide to take you home for a few days and do terrible things to you?” He grabs your chin, fingers spanning the entire bottom, reminding you of the size difference and making you whimper in pain. He presses his lips against the shell of your ear. “Make you regret having nerve endings…” 

Your whole body is shaking violently with adrenalized fear. Sweet Doctor Julian is a fucking wolf in sheep’s clothing, and he’s hungry for your flesh and blood. You should have known. You should have seen this coming. Shouldn’t you be an expert on narcissists and abusers by now? Shouldn’t you have been smarter? Shouldn’t you do the smart thing now and convince him to let you go?

“Please, Julian.” Disgust bubbles in your gut, reacting vehemently to the pathetic, pleading voice that leaves your mouth. “Please don’t.” 

He pulls your chin up a little higher. “You can beg prettier than that.” 

“Please, Doctor.” You swallow the raging hatred you have for yourself. “Please don’t hurt me. I’ll be a good girl.” 

He hums and kisses you temple, lips ghosting into your hairline as he inhales your shampoo choice. “You’re lucky I don’t put you on your knees right here and make you choke on my cock for a while, pumpkin.” 

“Please.” You give him your best impression of a beaten dog with wide, owl eyes, hoping you can somehow get out of this without actually getting hurt. All you can think of is Tom; how you wish he was here to beat the fuck out of Julian, how you should have let him beat the fuck out of Julian on your doorstep. 

His hand moves down, pressing softly into the front of your throat, just enough to make it uncomfortable. “It’s refreshing to see something so wild become so tame with fear.” Fear is an understatement. Pure panicking terror is what consumes you. Bred from C-PTSD and Julian’s heavy, big hand on your throat. You’ve been here before, small and terrified under a man with power… And, suddenly, you’re her again, that little girl trembling and cowering and cornered. You don’t know that you’re crying until a little tear tickles down your cheek. 

He kisses that saltwater trail, peeks his tongue out to taste your sad desperation and shivers against you. “You taste delicious.” 

Fucking Hannibal Lector, Psycho, serial killer. How did you not see it? How? 

It occurs to you that Tom saw it, saw straight through the mask, to the beast beneath Julian Mercer’s carefully constructed facade, all along. He’d warned you, but like the stubborn little idiot you are, you didn’t listen. 

Tom. Somehow it’s the thought of him, how he looks at you like you are precious, like you’re not stupid, like you are something worth saving, that breaks your thought pattern, your desire to just freeze and hope this man with his hand on your throat isn’t going to hurt you, hope that the bad thing goes away if you’re still enough, small enough, don’t draw attention to yourself. You think on what Tom would have you do.

You hear Ludlow’s voice, plain as day, cutting through the fear: c’mon, you have just enough room to fuck him up. 

You drive your knee as absolutely hard as you can into Dr. Julian Mercer’s gonads. 

The good doctor crumbles with a groan that sounds like his soul leaving his body. 

You run. On your shaking legs as fast as you can to your car, barely able to unlock the door with your trembling hands trying to manipulate your keys in the lock. You feel like you’re in a horror film. Instead of being the one yelling at the screen, Don’t run up the stairs, stupid!—you are the stupid girl, and you have so much sympathy for the girl being chased by the Big Bad with a knife and having no idea what to do with your hands. 

No. You are not dying today. You are not letting this monster win today. You are not fodder. You are Final Girl material, goddammit. Maybe you never believed it before, but Tom’s voice is still in your head. You can hear him ordering you what to do. Put in your key. Twist. Open. Get in. Lock the door. 

 You manage all this somehow, just before Juian slams against your window, his face a mask of fury. “Open the door, y/n.” 

Maybe still channeling Tom, and maybe acting completely on your own now, you press your middle finger against the window for him before starting your engine and peeling away. He barely manages to stumble back in time to save his toes from getting crushed by your racing tires. 

[riinkun-art-stuff]

Howdy ho! I'm very excited to finally be able to share this illustration I worked on as part of this year's @bumblebybigbang for @tahnex's lovely and super fun fic (with no pain attached whatsoever), "Of Dragons and Panthers," which you can read here! As soon as I read the original notes on it this scene captured me so much I had to do something dramatic for it. It's been such a pleasure watching the whole collab come together, tysm for having me!

First time joining an event like this, and I'd love to again if the opportunity comes around hehe. Still a few postings to go on this one, the pieces before us this year have knocked it out of the park and I'm super excited to see the rest once they come around!

Made a few process cuts just for fun, which I left under the cut!

I did do a few sketches roughly before I started out, especially based on other parts of the chapter, but this particular composition was so fixed in my mind that I ended up just sticking with it. In retrospect, I would've loved to go back and do some more thorough exploration for it. Here are a few of the sketches I managed to fish back up:

I also was thinking of trying a few other doodles/another big piece, but ended up not really having the time between other obligations :')

And the sketch I finally settled on:

Inking was SUCH a fun process on this piece in particular. I'm a huge fan of how dragon!Yang's mane turned out, especially, and all the detailing on the head and around Blake's fur and such. Feel like I'm really satisfied w the particular way the line weight variations came out, and it's where the piece shines the most imo.

Panther!Blake, too. Oh gosh. I feel like it took me a lot of reworking to get her structure to a point where she felt very leopard-like, rather than any other type of big cat- especially around the head.

Colours were such a challenging part. There was a big feeling I had for that glow coming off dragon!Yang in the middle of the heavy rain- I love seeing that sort of effect in real life so that's something I'm really hoping to work to capture better as I practice. Trying to get dragon!Yang's slight iridescence in there and to balance out the lighting on panther!Blake's fur each took a long time, too- I'm only a pinch sad that a good chunk of it is covered by other lighting effects XD

Blake's rosettes were SO fun. Augguhugg.

In terms of backgrounds. HOO boy I was going through a strange patch in life while working on the background and final polish for this piece, which is why (at least I feel like) it looks kinda rushed. I have been practicing natural landscapes and doing some observational studies but still struggling to get those rock shapes quite right, which I think is a big make or break point of something like this. I did really enjoy toying around with inking on the foliage and foreground layers of the ground, though! And in the end, lighting and effects ended up masking a lot of the big weak spots :D

I think natural effects like smoke/steam, and rain, are big things that I got to practice more of in this piece, but also really would like to get better at in future. Esp since I feel like it's been a great opportunity to mess around with different colours and brushes that I use way less, which I'm always grateful for w painting. I think just layering the rain on its own ended up being about 10 odd layers?

I think the only other thing I would have loved to improve is to just help the piece feel more Bumbleby™ in the final look. I think I like the cool colours of the lighting for this particular outcome, but I also would have probably tried to have made things much clearer (ahem at the very least switch to yellow/purple) in the long run in terms of representation and resemblance. Ik that at least for me it is fairly easy to associate the two characters with dragons and panthers since I'm more familiar w the fandom lingo around these two, but esp for outsiders I feel like it's probably not great at conveying who they are, and why they are potentially in this situation.

I'd also love to try and find a shading style that still has a painterly quality but compliments the inking a bit better, rather than overpowering it.

I think that, on the whole, I am pretty satisfied with the piece and had a great time working with Tahnex on the whole collab! And I've also has a fun time reading his work and notes in return, and thank you so much for being so so patient with me even as my updates were slow n rocky at points :'D

That's about all I got, have a great day y'all! Still a few big bang postings to go, so very excited for those once they come around!

[hsdiaries]

chapter one

3.9k words

First chapter of eight count.

mention of alcoholism, violence via boxing.

"One..."

When a man is down hard, he gets eight counts to get back up.

"Two..."

Eight counts to get his shit back together. Shake off the embarrassing blow to the face that has him on the floor in the first place.

"Three..."

Right before the halfway point, that's when you can usually tell if you're getting back up or not. Right before you hear...

"Four..."

Is when the world will finally start coming too, the dizzy feeling, fading or growing stronger.

"Five..."

Fuck. I wasn't getting up. I was the embarrassing one on the floor, knocked out by a damn check hook. I invented fucking check hooks in this city, always the one to successfully land one; never the one on the receiving end.

"Six..."

At this point, I knew I should just give up, the taste of blood filling my mouth more than I had realized. I tried to divert my eyes to my corner, shaking my head softly when I thought I finally caught Louis' eyes.

"Coach threw the towel, coach threw the towel!" I heard someone yell, the sound of the bell and the crowd bursting into roars for my opponent. It just all went black after that.

I came to eventually, the smell of old beer filling my nostrils only increasing the heavy feeling of nausea that shook my core.

"Hoo, hoo, big boy Styles is finally joining us!" I hear Louis say, his hand smacks my hip bone hard, making me wince. My hand quickly went up to swat him away, only causing more pain to travel everywhere else in my body.

"Fuck off, Tomlinson," I groaned, sitting up slowly, realizing I had been lying down in our usual booth at Birmingham's. I glanced over the table, reaching for Louis' beer and chugging it; not exactly the correct antidote, nor something I ever did but my ego was hurt. Hurt enough for me to do the one thing I never did, drink.

"He knocked you out cold bruv! He clearly watched your fights." Louis chuckled, glancing up at Brad, my trainer then back at me.

"Ha ha ha, it was supposed to be a one round fight, bruv. It never should have even gone to round two. I told you to grab me his tapes, I should have studied his technique," I shot back.

"Harry, you don't have to win every single fight to be the best, you still are. Best of anyone in this goddamn joint," Brad said, my thumb wiping the beer from my lips.

"I just lost to a fucking nobody piece of shit," I heard myself snarl, my head knocking back against the booth.

"Look, just go home, sleep it off, I already talked to the manager, you'll get your rematch and I'll get you his tapes this time," I heard Louis say, but I knew damn well that he wouldn't get me his tapes, I would have to get them myself. That's just how it worked for Louis, managing me just meant setting up the fights, not helping me with the actual work to prepare for the fight. It's why I lost tonight; I didn't have time to look for his tapes, hence, I didn't have enough time to study his fights.

I understood why, as none of this was actually legal. None of this was in any way actually professional. It all went down in the basement of Birmingham's. An old boxing ring setup by the owner's father and a bunch of stupid men thinking this is their first step to professional boxing.

Dumbasses.

All this did was help us get the anger out that was built up from childhood trauma and failed dreams. At least that's what it did for me. I turned eighteen and this seemed to be the only place I could escape all the pressures my drunken dad tried to put on me. It wasn't easy being his only support, it wasn't easy making sure our only home didn't burn down every time I left. None of it was fucking easy, even at fucking 26 it hadn't gotten easier.

This always felt easy though, boxing, fighting, knocking someone out cold. The best part was every winning fight won you a nice handful of cash. It was the only way my rent got paid, my savings grew, the only way I would ever get out of my father's hold.

Shit, I didn't win. I'm not getting fucking paid.

"Louis...I'm going to need a loan until the next fight. Unless you can get me in here tomorrow," I said, finishing off his beer, tugging at my hair.

"Harry...." he said, looking over my face.

"I know, I hate to ask. I know you paid the booking fee....I just didn't save enough. I was counting on this fight...rents due, and pops is going to–..."

"...--I got it. You're good. Just add it to my cut after you beat his ass the next time," Brad said, quickly pulling out his wallet, grabbing a wad of hundreds without counting them out. I knew it was more than what I needed. I also knew that he wouldn't let me pay him back the same amount. Brad, in comparison to Louis and I, was better off. Came from a good family, a lawyer for a father and a stepford wife of a mother. He only came around us as a way of rebelling. He also really did want to train boxers, so the tapes of my fights were his resume, his way of making it one day.

"Thanks man. Alright, Imma go, pops usually begins his first bit of hangover about now. Gotta go clean up some puke," I said, smacking Louis' shoulder as I got up, rolling up the cash and sticking it in my sock to avoid it somehow getting stolen. Chicago wasn't the worst city, but it also wasn't the best, especially at this time of night. I threw my favorite brown jacket over my shoulders, slipping my arms through the familiar sleeves, avoiding the holes so my fingers didn't snag at them making them bigger. It was a habit, more than actually trying to avoid it, just second nature.

It was a chilly spring night, there was a warmth in the air that quickly disappeared once the breeze hit your skin. It was my favorite time of the year, especially during the day. Perfect weather for running, for reading in the park, and enjoying a meal outdoors. I was alone most days, so spending time outdoors helped bring light to my life. Even though I was alone realistically, hypothetically outside, I was surrounded by people.

I walked the few blocks between Birmingham's and our apartment complex, pushing through the glass door as Richard, the lobby security, looked up at me.

"Mr. Styles, good morning," he smiled, analyzing my face that I now realized, probably looked pretty beat.

"Morning Rich, did you happen to check?" I said, tugging at my hair, licking my lips.

"Yes, he was asleep, finished a vodka bottle, but nothing looked hazardous, so I just left him. Don't think he even noticed me there." He chucked as I nodded. I bent down, taking out the cash from my sock, pulling out a hundred and handing it to him.

"I'm short the usual this week, but I'll make it up, I promise," I said, shoving the rest in my back pocket.

"Lost the fight tonight?" He asked, slipping the hundred in his jacket pocket.

"Unfortunately, I didn't make time to study his skill set, Louis didn't get me what I needed," I shrugged, my hands slipping in my jacket pocket, fingers toying with the ripped up lining to calm my nerves. I hated losing, it made my dads drunken words to me feel real, like maybe he had a point.

Bastard child, you'll never amount to anything.

"You know, I heard Percy Maddox is holding in-person tryouts for his management. Looking to pick up new clients to his roster, I think it would do you some good to see how you measure up," Richard said, his eyebrows raised as if challenging me to come up with a good excuse as to why I shouldn't.

"Louis' my manager, I can't do him dirty like that," I said, moving to lean against the wall next to him.

"Louis is just looking out for his twenty percent Harry, and I know you know that," Richard said, a tilt to his head making me laugh slightly.

"And I'm only looking to pay rent, he and I are the same. I would have to join a team that would understand he's included in the package deal. Brad too."

"And that's why you are my boy and I help you out when I can. You understand loyalty, very few do," he smiled at me as I nodded, turning over my shoulder at the ding of the elevator. The five am crowd was starting to make their way to the gym and morning runs, things I seemed to never understand.

"Thanks, Rich. I should go though, he usually starts waking up around this time. Night!" I said, walking backwards before turning around and swinging into the elevator. I pressed four, moving my body to lean against the back, hands gripping at the railing. I couldn't wait to take a long cold shower, my muscles needing it drastically after tonight.

"Hold the elevator! Please!" I heard a voice call out, a small groan built in my chest, squeezing my eyes tighter as I heard the doors start to close, "God please it's going to take twenty years for another to come down," the voice called out again, making me sigh through my nose as I moved to quickly stick my hand between the doors, the sensors sending them back open in the opposite direction.

When I tell you, time stood fucking still, time stood fucking still when she was infront of me. I had seen glimpses of her before. Through the elevator door as it was closing on me, as she ran quickly in and out of her apartment that was right next to mine. Never had it been like this, this close, this almost felt personal. Her chocolate like hair was up in a high ponytail, draped on her golden caramel skin was maroon scrubs underneath a layered white jacket, I never realized before she was probably a nurse, maybe even a doctor. She had simple diamond studs in her ears and though almost gone, a beautiful peach touch to the blush on her cheeks. She smelled like expensive baby power and pear, two smells I never knew to be so delicious in combination.

"Are you just going to stand there or are we going up?" She questioned, snapping me out of my trance making me back into the elevator again, "And what the hell happened to your face?"

She turned to press her floor, realizing we were heading to the same, she gave me a quick once over as all I could do was stare at her face, "Are you concussed? I'm serious, you feeling alright?"

She seemed to have no hesitation as she moved towards me, causing me to move against the back of the elevator, her hand quickly pulling my eye open as she grabbed a tiny flashlight from her jacket pocket, the light flashing in my eyes finally snapping me out of being temporarily mute, "Hey, sorry, sorry, I'm fine." I said gently moving her hand from my face. "Mmm, sorry, just tired. Barely getting in," I swallowed, my hand moving to tug at my hair, swirling the longest parts at the top around my fingers.

Her eyebrows furrowed slightly, "Did you get jumped or something?" She crossed her arms in front of her chest, finally backing away slightly.

"Felt like it," I chuckled, shaking my head and looking down at my shoes, the small holes at the top making me suddenly feel self conscience about my appearance. Even in her work uniform, probably after a 12 hour shift, she looked more well put together than I ever could, "But uh, no, just fell at work, knocked down some shit. I'm clumsy sometimes."

When my eyes moved back up to meet her, I saw the look of utter disbelief in my words, but the sound of the elevator doors opening as we reached our floor seemed to save me from further explanation. I pressed my lips together into a tight smile, pushing off the back wall and past her into the hall. I reached into my pockets, trying quickly to grab my keys and make my way inside my apartment before she asked anything further. I got to my door, hand on the handle when she spoke again, my eyes closing tight.

"Hey! Wait!" she called, her footsteps letting me know when she was finally right next to me, "I can treat it, clean it up and bandage it. Your eyebrow is split a bit, I can fix it, no questions asked. I just...my conscience won't let me sleep tonight if I don't help you out," her words so soft, I inhaled deeply, placing my ear to my door. My father was clearly still not awake, and my eyebrow did bloody hurt. I shifted my body towards her, biting my lip and nodding.

"Perfect, come on." She pointed her chin forward to her door, both of our bodies moving together towards it. I allowed her the space to grab her keys, starting to unlock her door, when she stopped, chuckling to herself before turning to look over at me, her deep brown eyes soft, "I'm Emilia, by the way. Figured you should know before I invite you in."

I chuckled, nodding, "Harry. Nice to meet you." I smiled to one side, before she bit her lip and led us into her apartment. It was so different from mine, neater. All the furniture matched, no burn stains or tears covered the couches. Her carpet was so white, I instantly moved to remove my shoes, her head tilting at my actions.

"You don't have to do that," she said softly, placing down her bag on the kitchen counter, slipping out of her white jacket.

"No, trust me, it's probably best I do," I placed my beat up Nikes against the wall, padding my way over to her.

"Let's move to the bathroom, the lighting is better in there." I followed her in the bathroom, finally getting a good look at myself in the mirror. My eyebrow was split like she said, blood dried up around it and my eye. My lips had minor cuts, which were the only things I was actually aware of, feeling the sting anytime I touched them, the blood taste lingering in my mouth since the fight. I sat on the closed toilet, swallowing, trying to avoid pulling at my hair again; but my nerves instantly tugged at the strands. Even her bathroom was fucking prestine, making me realize we never were going to get our security deposit back if we ever moved. She moved around her bathroom, pulling out supplies from different drawers and cabinets, finally washing her hands before moving over to me.

She grabbed a small white square package, tearing it open and pulling out a wipe, her eyes landing on mine softly, "It's probably going to sting, especially cause the bloods pretty dried up now."

Nodding at her, she moved to begin cleaning up my face, it truly did fucking hurt, my fingers pinching at my thighs to avoid me wincing like a fucking baby. I tried my best to divert my eyes from her as she worked, but it was so hard from how close she was to me. Her hands were soft against my face, her eyes so concentrated on the task at hand. I took her in, section by section. The perfectly defined cupid's bow, that made the perfect top to a heart, the hooded eyes that seemed to carry a sweet mystery, a nose that finally made me understand why they were often compared to buttons. Her eyes landed on mine as I took her in, both of us shyly looking away.

I cleared my throat, moving my gaze back down, "So are you a doctor?" I asked as she prepared the butterfly shaped bandage.

"Mm, nurse. Though sometimes I feel like I could be a doctor," she smirked a bit, a passive thought seemed to run through her mind before she shook it away.

"And you?" She said softly, grabbing the bandage, pinching my eyebrow softly as she began to apply it.

"You said no questions asked," I said softly, our eyes meeting again, earning me a gentle giggle and shake of the head.

"Touché. Well, you're all done. Try to keep it dry, don't rub on it too hard. I'll check it again later this week." She smiled, stepping back and starting to clean up.

As I opened my mouth to speak, loud thuds could be heard coming from next door. Glass shattered in the distance before a door could be heard slamming shut a few minutes later.

Good morning daddy Styles.

I rolled my eyes, realizing just how much she could hear from the thin walls of this place. I wondered how many times she heard us yell. Heard the way he insulted me constantly, my nerves making it so I tugged my hair so hard you would think I was going to go bald.

"I hear that often. Got a frisky cat?" She said, almost as if obvious to my tension.

"Yeah, Thomas the fat frisky cat," I rolled my eyes, shaking my head a bit, "I should um, probably go tend to Thomas, I think it's feeding time."

"Can't have a starved cat, never a good choice," she said, throwing away everything before quickly washing her hands again. She led me down the hall to the door, I grabbed my shoes standing up straight and glancing at her.

"Thanks again, um, Emilia," I smiled tight, watching her shrug.

"I'll need a light bulb changed or something at some point. Just, don't forget to stop by in a day or two, just so I can see if you're going to need stitches or not," she said gently and I nodded, reluctantly opening the door and walking out to quiet byes being exchanged.

I looked over my shoulder one more time at her as she closed the door, before dragging my feet to my apartment. I unlocked the door, pushing my way in, taking in the mess he had made today. Food wrappers were everywhere, cans covering what felt like every furniture piece that could hold them. I inhaled the smell of stale beer, breathing out as I heard my dads pained groans as he threw up.

"Pops, you alright?" I called out, throwing my shoes on the floor, taking off my jacket as I made my way over to the bathroom. I opened it, a painful sight as always waiting for me. He was wrapped around the disgusting toilet, his puke making it to more areas than just the bowl.

"God, pops, why do you do this?" I sighed, grabbing gloves and towels from the cabinets, starting to clean him up.

"Harrrrry I'm sory, I'mmm a meess," he slurred, my eyes rolling as if I didn't already know.

"It's fine, pops. Come on, let's get you in the shower, yeah?" I said, bracing my lower back as I brought him to his stumbling feet. I dragged him into the shower, turning the water on him, he exclaimed as the cold water hit him before it warmed. Curses seemed to be his only vocabulary. Eventually, he stood still, letting the water hit him and wash off the throw up before I pulled off his wet clothes.

"I got it," he said swatting me away, "I fucking got it!" He shoved me, my fists curling tight as I remembered his current condition. I walked out, heading into my room and stripping myself clean of all the dirty clothes on my body, covered in sweat blood and now my father's mess. I laid back on my bed, eyes close, the sheets feeling good against my bare skin, the backs of my lids playing out a vision of Emilia on them.

She smiled at me, pulling me in her apartment, arms wrapping around my neck as she pulled me into a kiss. Her fingers tangled into my hair, pulling me tighter on her lips, her tongue running against mine. I felt the damn blood rushing to my prick, my stomach knotting up as she invaded my thoughts further; imagining what her skin would feel like pressed against mine.

My hand began to crawl down my stomach, over the shaft of my cock, wrapping my fingers around myself. That's as far as I got before I heard the loud thump on the floor snapping me out of my dirty mind.

"Fuck!" I yelled out. I yelled out because I hated that I just met her and my mind was already in such a dirty place with her. I yelled out because I was tired of this fucking life I was living. I grabbed my towel and wrapped it around my waist tightly, making my way over to see my dad stumbling out of the bathroom, pushing past me. He walked into his room, stumbled onto his bed naked and was out the moment his body hit the bed.

I sighed, shaking my head and making my way to the bathroom, finishing my clean up before getting in the shower. I felt the water hit along my body as I washed up, planning out what tomorrow would be like when I finally woke up. What bills I had to make sure got paid before I could buy groceries to last the week. I needed to find tapes on this guy's previous fights, study them until I knew he's footwork like a dance.

I needed to not let my mind wander to dirty places with Emilia.

I carefully washed my hair and face, not wetting my bandage before finally getting out and drying up, changing into clean clothes. My stomach growled as I made my way through the living room, picking up the mess I knew would just be back tomorrow. I was starved, but unfortunately when I opened the fridge, there was nothing inside. I sighed, closing my eyes and deciding that I would just have to sleep it off.

A knock came from the door, my eyes narrowing as we never had visitors and all my packages were delivered to Brad's. I walked over, opening the door slightly seeing no one around. As I moved to close the door, I noticed a foil wrapped container on the floor, my eyebrow raising slightly. I opened the door, bending down to pick it up, a small note taped to the top. Closing the door with my hip, I opened up the note, writing with tiny letters and big swoops read:

"Made too much mac and cheese for just one person, hope you can eat cheese."

— E

My lips pursed, trying to stop the smile that began in my cheeks, aching from the need to let my lips spread. It was something so simple, so sweet, but I hated that it made me feel pitied. I quickly shook the thought, grabbing one of the two good forks that we had and settling on the couch. I took a forkful in my mouth, my eyes closing at the cheesy goodness. My stomach thanked me for not making it suffer through the night.

I finished, feeling so thankful for the nurse next door and her beautiful kindness tonight.

[blu3-j]

Welcome...Home..?

Overworked! GN! Reader x Welcome Home Crew

Chapter 3

Tw: Break down (Reader experiences a small break down), overall a bit of crying

Hoo, boy! This one's a long one! Strap in everybody!

So, as we left off, reader gets introduced to their...interesting situation, but doesn't have much time to process it before having to head in to work. What happens when the reader actually has a moment to process it? But the reader's not the only one in the story! The entire crew is here! So, how are they dealing with this stressful new situation?

Chapter 1 l Chapter 2 l Chapter 3 l Chapter 4

The day had gone by busy as usual. The restaurant was so busy that you were barely able to squeeze in a break. Just a small part of your shift, 2 buses had stopped by within the first few hours of you clocking in. Why, in all the world's name, did people decide to take a bus to a restaurant this early in the morning??? While one of your managers was kind enough, the other never bothered to care about anything more than their basic job, deciding to stay in the back office and never leaving unless a customer requested to see them. Any coworkers that had any sort of complaint or wanted to take a break were directed to the other manager. Thank god the nice manager was on today. It was torture when it was just the lousy one.

As for your classes, you only had one today. When you first scheduled your classes, you made note to keep them simple as they could easily pile up. What you didn't take into account was how busy work would be, and the class itself was labor intensive and required you to talk to so many people. You scheduled this class to be on its own for a reason, but it still dragged you down six feet under for energy.

The day felt as though it was never going to end. Little did you know, a little surprise waited for you when you finally found time to eat your packed lunch. A little note sat on the top of the simple meal, folded neatly with a caterpillar doodle drawn on the top fold.

"Y/N, it's wonderful to get to meet you! I knew you were a hard worker when I saw how peaceful you were sleeping this morning. According to your calendar, you're even busier than me! I noticed how dirty the house was, so I cleaned up a little. I hope you don't mind! You seemed so exhausted, and it's the least I can do to help make your already busy life easier. I hope you have a great day, shrimp! Make your day worth it to you! We're so proud of you, already! Signed, Howdy P."

It was small, but his written words made your day a little bit brighter. You almost found yourself smiling. The paper crinkled as you folded it up gently and put it in your pocket.

By the end of the day, you were once again exhausted---more than that, actually. It wasn't uncommon for you to be barely walking from exhaustion at the end of the day, and as much as you so dearly wanted to go home, the moment you sat down in the driver seat of your car you hesitated to turn the ignition key. The puppets were still there. Waiting for you. While you didn't think they would hurt you, your stomach twisted and churned at the idea of having to face that entire problem that you've been running from all day.

So you didn't.

Rather, you drove to the nearby library. By now the sun was already setting, and a little voice in the back of your mind urged you to go home. "Maybe you'll have some free time to do what you want," it whispered. "Maybe you'll have time to play some video games or go on a walk down that old path you used to love so much." But you didn't listen.

The bell above the door rang as you walked in. Unlike most libraries, it had a small cafe cove in the corner for those like you: completely exhausted and in college. It wasn't too far from the college you attended---just a block or two away---it was maybe a 5--10 minute walk at most from the college's main entrance to there. But you were tired enough as is, and walking was something you could barely do at the moment, so your car rested in its small parking lot. As you trudged through the entrance, the cove caught your attention. "Maybe a little bit of caffeine will do me some good."

Due to the lax nature of the building, there weren't many people that crowded the cove, so it didn't take nearly as long to get your coffee/tea as some places in town did. Not that you would know. This cove was the only coffee place you really ever went to for any sort of coffee or tea. Or at least for fresh and ready-to-drink on the go.

The cup warmed your hands as you held it gently to yourself and slowly trudged to a nearby table in the library. "Maybe I could take this chance to finally read that book I've been hearing so many things about." It was decided, then. You dropped your bag on the floor---a bit harder than you meant to---and set your caffeine salvation down to look for the book. When you finally found it, it had been buried in between the various other books; dusty and barely opened. A librarian friend of yours had once recommended it to you months ago, and now you finally set aside the time to read it.

"The Fall of it All" By Robin Feather

You found yourself quickly enthralled by the book. The story was of a servant named Eline serving princess and future queen Cassandra. The young eccentric princess quickly became close to Eline, and very soon began to allude to more secrets within the castle and its royal government. Upon the discovery of each hidden secret, Eline finds themselves further and further trapped in the middle of it all. Eline never once says a thing in the book; rather allowing the other characters and setting to tell the story around them. It brought a surprisingly well twist to the normal story-telling format. By the time you had ripped your attention from the book it was completely dark outside. That little voice in the back of your mind taunted you. "You can't keep running forever."

You sighed, and put a hastily made bookmark in between the pages. Maybe this would be nice to read at home. "And maybe reading it won't bring its characters to real life so they can live in my house." You chuckled at the thought. How ironic the situation you found yourself in was.

Thud.

You threw your empty cup in the trash bin. You had to rummage through your bag, but at the very bottom hid your library card. You wish you had more free time to come here more often like you originally planned, but you didn't have time for much of anything, anymore. The librarian quickly rang it up for you to borrow, and handed the pristine book back to you. With a final heave, you hoisted your bag on your shoulders.

"I can't keep running forever," you mumbled to yourself. It was completely dark out, with the only light being the occasional street lamp and the light from inside the library peeking out its windows. The cover on the book looked appealing, illuminated by the light's warm glow. If only you could just run away and forget it all.

But even Eline had to face their problems.

"I guess I can face mine, too."

The car ride home was quiet, with the radio softly playing whatever was deemed popular enough to bring in listeners. It was peaceful. Too peaceful. Like the calm before the storm. Your heart sank at the thought of facing those puppets again. They act so real...so..alive. Car headlights blinded you again and again as they passed you by, until eventually they were rarely seen on the road at all. Not many ever came up this far. Buildings turned to empty plains and then to forest as the world blurred by. You turned onto an all too familiar dirt road. Every gravel piece that your tires rolled over felt like another nail in the coffin. Another second closer to a dreadful climax.

The house was dark when you finally rolled in your car and parked. Were they asleep? Do they even sleep? Your heavy shoulders relaxed a little upon the thought. Maybe you won't have to face them, afterall. A gentle tired smile graced your face, and with a final sigh, you pulled out your keys and they jingled as you inserted one in the keyhole.

Click!

It was dark and quiet inside. It almost made you want to believe that what had happened this morning hadn't happened at all. Almost. You couldn't see far into the house, but from what you did see, your bookshelf in the hallway had been organized alphabetically, and the dust and webs had been wiped from the tables and nooks. Why is it so quiet? Finally, you closed the door behind you, engulfing you entirely in an inky black.

"SURPRISE!!!" A chorus of voices overwhelmed you, and the lights were turned on. After you recovered from the scare, you noticed how much more...lively the house was. Home-made banners and streamers adorned the ceiling, and colorful balloons and confetti were spread across the floor. One banner in particular read "WELCOME HOME, Y/N!!!"  It was so colorful. The lights were so warm. And in the middle of it all stood the ones responsible for it. The cast of colorful puppets you had gotten to somewhat know this morning.

"I...uh..." You stammered, wide-eyed at the scene. How do you react to this? Most of them stayed silent and stared at you with expectant eyes. All for one, however. Julie.

"Y/N, you're finally back! Oh my gosh, we were waiting sooooo long! But you're back now! Wally, Howdy, and Barnaby said how scary this all must be for you like how we're all kinda scared right now, so I thought we could throw a surprise party for you! Oh, we have so much planned!" She dashed to your side and tugged on your shirt, beckoning for you to come forward. She pointed to each puppet as she rambled. "Sally has a short play, Barnaby has a comedy act, Howdy, Poppy, Frank, and me made cookies and cake, and Eddie and Wally made the decorations and some of the games!" A single utterance was made from Frank as she talked, correcting her grammar.

"Howdy, Poppy, Frank, and I. Not me, Julie." Julie paid Frank no mind, too enveloped in her excitement to notice him talk.

It all felt like too much. Too much all at once. Your body took a mind of its own as you excused yourself to the bathroom. When you had dipped out of sight into the hallway, you instead found yourself locking yourself in your bedroom. Before you had even curled yourself up on the floor in front of the door, you heard a voice.

"Y/N?" Wally. He always seemed to know when you were distressed. How? He softly knocked on the door. You didn't have the energy right now. You didn't have the bravery right now. "Please talk to me, Y/N." The room went silent as he paused. You refused to move. "Y/N," He continued. "I know this is scary. I'm scared, too. Please, let me in so we can talk. Or maybe just a hug?" Your face felt hot again. And your chest ached. You buried your face in your knees, feeling them slowly begin to grow warm and wet. Wally's voice turned gentle as he leaned into the door. "It's okay, Y/N. I'm right here." A quiet moment rolled by, then the doorknob turned. But it stopped halfway. You had locked it. Staring at the doorknob, you finally meekly unlocked it before shying away from the doorway and hid your face.

Light poured into the dark room as Wally opened the door. "Wally, is Y/N okay?" Julie called out. Hushed voices filled the hallway and into the bedroom from the living room. Wally stared at you for a moment longer before turning back to the hallway.

"I'm going to talk to Y/N for a bit, okay? Everything's going to be okay." He smiled as Julie mumbled an "okay" and he quietly closed the door. The room was engulfed in darkness once more. "Y/N," the small yellow puppet walked forward and crouched down in an attempt to see your down-turned face. "Oh, Y/N. Dearest Y/N." His felt hand reached up to brush the hair out of your face. "Can you talk to me?" You remained silent, barely glancing at his face before looking away. That's when you felt him push your legs away from your torso and crawl into your lap. You gasped and looked at him, but by the time you saw his face, it was buried in your chest, his arms lay limp at his sides. What was he doing? His monotone robotic laughter echoed through the room. "I don't know how to hug." His eyes looked up into yours as his smile widened and his would-be eyebrows furrowed. "Could you show me?" The ache in your chest was too painful. Too much.

And you broke. You don't know how long it was when you finally stopped crying and loosened your hold on him. You don't know how long it was when he finally spoke up after your quiet restrained sobs stopped. "It's okay. I'm right here." He brushed the tears from your cheeks. He didn't like that his hands were getting wet and your tears would soak deep into his felt and stuffing inside, but he could make a small exception for you. You needed the comfort, and as somebody that you're going to be forced to live with until they can go back to Home, it's the least he could do. You were just as scared as he was. So, for now, he could be the braver one.

You looked into his eyes. Despite them being fake, they felt so comforting to look at. The dark black pools that sucked away the light that shined on them felt familiar. You had seen those same dark eyes in many of your stuffed plushies growing up. You had seen those same dark eyes in the teddy bear your great grandmother gave you when you were little. You hugged Wally close one last time, being more careful to not accidentally hurt the little puppet. "Do they even get hurt?" You brushed the thought to the side. Things are going to be okay. So you took in one last long breath, and wiped your eyes. A smile fell on your face as you looked back down to him. His eyes feel so alive. He is alive. He's just like you. You gently pulled him off your lap and stood up and reached for the door. The doorknob felt so cold. The hushed voices continued on the other side of the door. Your stomach churned again.

"It's okay." Wally watched you carefully. His small hand grasped yours and he squeezed. His favorite thing to do, it seemed. "I'm right here with you. You don't have to be scared."

So you took that final leap, and opened the door. Eyes were instantly on the two of you the moment light seeped into the room. Julie was on the couch with Eddie, the short puppet with a star/sun shaped head, and the large blue dog you hadn’t met yet attempting to comfort her. Frank was busy reading another book, but occasionally glancing at Julie, his furrowed brows raising and his frown twitching down a smidge every time he did. Poppy and Howdy were talking to one another closely a bit away from everyone else. Everyone looked to you. Things were quiet. The air was heavy.

Then Julie hopped up from her spot on the couch and ran over. "Y/N!!" She hugged your legs and buried her face. "I'm so so sorry!! I thought if we did a party, everything would be okay and everyone would be happy but you weren't and you ran away and we were all so worried for you and I'M SO SORRY!" She wailed into the side of your pants as she gripped you tighter, apologizing over and over and over. You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came. So you bent down to her level instead and hugged her close. She really was worried. You found yourself glancing at the others. All of them were.

When Julie's rambling seemed to continue (how in all goodness was she not out of breath yet?) you took it as a sign to interrupt her.

"It's okay, Julie. You're right. I'm scared, too. I was so overwhelmed when I came back that I wanted to run away again. I don't know what to do. I don't know how to help. I don't even know how you all can even exist here!" You chuckled as you pulled away to look her in the face. Your voice was shaky and quiet, but she could hear you. And she did. Her eyes sparkled. Just as always. Your vision began to go blurry again, and your face felt hot. "I've been trying to avoid you guys all day! When I got done with work and school, I went to the library instead. I was too scared. But I had to come home. I had to face everything. I had to face you guys, and I was too scared to go through with it." You wiped your eyes. Everything was crushing in on you again. Julie touched your arm. You're not alone. She's here. Wally's here. Everyone's here. "But I'm going to be brave now."

Her smile grew, and her eyes sparkled more. How is that even possible? Her arms quickly wrapped around you. Everything felt lighter now. The tension was still there, but things weren't caving in on you anymore. "This is going to take a long while to get used to."

Julie spoke up, her voice barely a whisper. "Then I'll be brave with you."

The rest of the night blurred by. You finally were able to be formally introduced to the final three you hadn’t met this morning. The blue dog is Barnaby, a jokester who loves to make people laugh and have a good time himself. The tall green one with multiple limbs is Howdy, a bodega shop owner that’s named his place the “Bugdega.” And lastly, the little yellow star being indeed a star puppet named Sally. All she wanted to do was be a metaphorical star.

The baked goods that Howdy, Poppy, Frank, and Julie made were...sweeter than anything you had really ever had, and each was decorated in colorful frosting (even the things that didn't need frosting). Barnaby did his best act with the props he could find in your house, and while he got everyone else to laugh, you didn't. So, he made it his mission to get you to laugh. The rest of the night, he made various jokes and acts, and eventually he heard it. A giggle. A laugh. Finally, you were doubled over in laughter, wiping tears from your eyes as he laughed with you. A few games were played while the others tried to keep Julie from making any of them too complicated, complaining that they didn't understand any of it. Mistakes were made, rules were broken, laughter was shared, and people (specifically Eddie) tripped and stumbled throughout the entirety of it.

Finally, the lights were turned way down low as you all grouped on the couch. Eddie had taken the job of directing the lights with a special hand-made spotlight, and Julie and Wally worked to keep the special effects going. As Sally acted her play, confetti acting as flower petals were thrown, backgrounds were occasionally changed during Sally's monologues, and they occasionally acted as extras in the background. You never got to see how it ended. Sally was in another one of her monologues when you found your eyelids getting heavy and the person next to you being extremely comfy.

A soft blanket wrapped around you as with two arms. Sally's voice faded further and further away as you leaned into the person. And with one last quiet sigh, you let the sweet appeal of sleep consume you.

[arisenreborn]

Fateful Symmetry - chapter 1

Word Count: 1,386 Characters: Olivia (Arisen), Emrys (Pawn) Table of Contents AO3: (link)

Hoo boy, I'm bad at summaries for Long Things, and this is probably going to be A Long Thing. Yanno, following Olivia and Emrys's journey from start to finish more or less. Starting here, in that abysmal excavation site...

CHAPTER 1: awakening

In dreams she saw the dragon circling wide overhead. A smoldering, ruined landscape she could make no sense of surrounded her, but all was cast in silence. It seemed the dragons shadow passed over her time and time again, like a living thing all its own, and as cold as the flames were hot. 

Pain washed over her like a tidal wave, dragging her hopelessly to the surface of consciousness where she could do nothing but flounder - blinded to all else by the immensity of it. Then it subsided, and it was all she could do to fade into those dreams yet again.

Two golden-red embers pierced through the veil of darkness, watching her. Something cold and soothing passed over her forehead, and she was acutely aware of a trickle of water trailing down her temple. 

Brow furrowing, she blinked back the shadows of a long sleep, the world coming into focus around her - or what little she could make sense of. Not that there was much to make sense of in the first place. They looked to be in some sort of cave, dark and dismally dry, and fashioned into a cell. 

“Finally coming around, are you?” The figure that sat over her tilted his head, his own brow creasing.

Yes; she didn’t know much else, but she had to get away from those long, dark dreams. Her body ached, but it was nothing she couldn’t shoulder through, and she did just that as she pushed herself to sit upright. Kindly, the man helped with a hand against her back. 

“Where…?” Her voice resisted against her dry throat, cracking against the dusty air. At once she started coughing, and the man was quick to hand her a water skin. It was mostly empty and warm, but still a relief. 

“Take it slow,” the man said. Then he glanced behind him towards the bars of their gaol - beyond which she could make no sense of the many bodies moving about. She heard him murmur: “Though… It ought to be about time for the overseer to come around.”

Too many words swam through her mind, and she could fathom almost none of them. Instead they sparked the familiar heat of frustration. 

“I’m sorry…” She swallowed and wet her lips, careful not to speak too quickly. “I am… very confused. Where are we?” 

“I’d be more surprised if you weren’t.” There was a jovial ring to his voice, like he was on the cusp of laughter - which was only all the more confusing to her. “When they dragged you in here you were a few ticks left overdone in the oven, by the looks of you. Not near so bad as how they said you’d been found, though. ‘Little more than coal’, they said.”

Her face scrunched up, a hollow discomfort echoing through her at his words. Yet when she lifted her arms to look herself over, there was no proof of what he claimed. 

These were her hands, a strange yet nonetheless comforting realization. One small sliver of recognition and familiarity. They were slightly calloused from years of training with the sword… She knew that, and yet she did not know how she knew. Everything beyond that was a smoky fog. 

“That’s right, you’re right as rain now. Healed up good and fast you did, real miracle work if you ask me.” He laughed, watching her expectantly. “Think you’ve got another miracle in ya? One that might get us out of this sorry spot?” 

Another wrinkle creased her forehead as she looked at him. ‘Ruggedly handsome’ by all accounts, albeit smeared in dirt and sweat. There was a strangeness to his eyes she couldn’t hope to comprehend, but the smile on his face was friendly and charming, and so far as she could tell he meant no harm in what he said, even if everything he said had a pointed lack of gravitas to it. Perhaps that was exactly what made him so… So? 

Having gone quiet she was squinting at him now, trying to decipher him. He waved a hand in front of her face.

“You uh, still with me?” 

Blinking, she gave herself a shake. “Who… are you?” 

“Bah, where are my manners? Emrys Venor, humbly at your service, my lady.” He placed his hand over his chest and dipped his head with a playful lack of reverence. 

Ah, she had it now. Despite all of her confusion and their dark and -frankly- frightening surroundings, his flippancy dismissed the gloom like a lantern in the night. His friendliness was a comfort, and she smiled now to realize it.

“Olivia.” She answered in kind, and then felt herself thrust once more into that dark fog of unknowing. This time searing needles accompanied it, prickling at the backs of her eyes and somewhere deeper in her mind. Gritting her teeth she groaned, grasping at her head with both hands. Flames and fog scorched the backs of her eyelids, her ears rang, and her stomach knotted itself.

“Whoa, easy there… Don’t push yourself…” Emrys’s voice soothed its way through the ringing, something softer to focus on. 

Something was terribly wrong. Who was she? A name told her little, the callouses on her hands perhaps a little more, but she didn’t even know what questions to ask herself. A cold fear began to spread through her - and then she quickly shunted it aside. No, no. Fear and worrying would get her nowhere. 

Start with the basics: Where was she from? Nothing. Did she have a home, family? Nothing. She was sure that she came from somewhere, that she must have had some point of origin, but all of it was veiled behind that wretched fog.

Mouth hanging open she looked once more to Emrys, whose expression she couldn’t hope to read. Confusion and concern, perhaps? 

For a split second she hesitated: Could she truly trust him? She had no idea what had happened to her or how she ended up in this place, but she had the distinct impression this was not where she ought to be. But he’d asked her about a miracle, hadn’t he? About getting them out of ‘this sorry spot’? 

She hoped that counted for something, and gambled on trust.

“I… don’t remember almost anything.” She shook her head. “My name, and… a dragon?”

“Shh.” The sound he made was sharp and quiet, like an assassin's blade. She blinked up at him and he was casting his eyes around them, leaning in close to her. “Pray, do not speak of any dragons here, miss, for all our sakes.” 

She didn’t understand, but she nodded slowly under the weight of his molten gaze. 

“Good. Is that… all, you can recall?” 

Tightening her lips she tried again to think of anything. She knew what an apple was. A book. A bird. She obviously had her command over language, had some concept of social niceties, but where any of it came from, nothing. Surface level stuff. 

“About myself, yes, I believe so.” 

“Isn’t that something…?” He lifted a hand to stroke his chin, and she noted that his moment of seriousness was quickly dissipating. “Well, with any luck it’ll come back as you move around. You were out of it for quite a while, even before they brought you here.”

“Who-” she cut in, as it seemed like he was going to continue, and she was already barely keeping up. “Who are ‘they’?”

His brows rose briefly, but shadows passed over them at that moment, and his eyes again flicked back towards the bars where figures approached. There were sounds of shouting, and more people being shuffled out of other cells further down the passage.

“Ah, you know what they say- or, do you? Either way. ‘Speak of devils and they shall appear’. You’ll see soon enough.” He kept his voice low as he sat himself up into a crouch, offering a hand to her. “Think you can stand?”

She took a moment to assess herself with a bit more clarity. Her body ached and felt a little fatigued, but more than anything she felt… impatient. The pains that hummed low in her muscles compared little to her ache to move, to do something. 

She knew not what just yet, but to start with, she took his hand.

[mayhemchicken-varneyposting]

Varney the Vampire, Chapter 12: A Disappointing Lack Of Secret Passages

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Charles sits in his room and broods for a truly impressive number of paragraphs. Eventually, he is distracted by the portrait on the wall, which is so lifelike that its eyes appear to follow you around the room. Charles carefully studies it and memorizes its features, in case they are helpful later in identifying the vampire. As he does this, he notices some of the moulding around the portrait is cracked, and comes to the conclusion that it must have been recently moved from the wall and replaced. What's more, it seems to be loose, and could be easily removed again with the right tools. While he ponders how to do this, he is interrupted by a knock at the door.

He calls for whoever it is to come in, but receives no response except more knocking. After three rounds of this, he gets up and opens the door, only to find no one there. Charles is starting to feel a bit rattled now, but refuses to ask for a new room because that's coward behavior.

The knock comes again, and he quickly flings open the door. Once again there's no one there, but he hears a strange sound in the corridor, a sort of groaning sigh, or perhaps sighing groan. He calls out, and Henry answers, having been awakened by the commotion. Charles tells Henry about the mysterious knocking, and also his theory about the portrait having been moved. Henry is willing to test the theory by removing the portrait, so he scrounges up some tools and the two of them set to work. Disappointingly, they find nothing behind the portrait except bare wall.

Suddenly, they hear a series of strange noises outside, and a figure appears at the window. Charles shoots it without hesitation. The rest of the household is awakened by the shot, and they proceed to search the area outside the window. Charles' shot left a hole in the window pane, but there is no sign of any intruder outside.

Marchdale advises that the Bannerworths pack their bags and move away. He then starts making gloomy and lurid predictions about Flora becoming a vampire and hunting her own children, which upsets Charles a lot. He tells Marchdale to shut up, and Marchdale is so offended by this that he threatens to leave the house on the spot. Hastily, Henry makes Charles apologize in order to keep the peace, and all ruffled tempers are soothed...for now.

Hoo boy this is an action-packed chapter.

A Theme, or at least a recurring subject, rears its head in this chapter, and is soon to become even more prominent. The characters in Varney are strictly bound by proper English manners, and are handicapped by them at every turn. This limitation, while troublesome enough in their dealings with each other, will prove to be a major source of conflict when dealing with the vampyre. More on that next chapter.

The first little mannerly stumbling blocks start to appear here. Charles restlessly paces his room, but stops for fear of disturbing his hosts. Harmless enough, but things will escalate later.

Charles' character is also fleshed out some. Charles, we have seen, is a bit reckless; now we learn his own bravery is an important aspect of his self-image. Charles will not be seen as a coward; he will never back down from a challenge. I'm sure this little personality quirk will never cause him any problems.

Charles proceeds to make a very thorough examination of the portrait, eventually coming to the conclusion that it was recently moved, and further that there may be something of interest concealed behind it. A secret passage, perhaps?

No time for that, someone is gently rapping at his chamber door. These early chapters, as we've seen, are full of weird spooky little moments like this one which are promptly forgotten about and never, ever explained. Presumably, the source of the noise is Varney, although jury's out on how he got into the house. I will say one thing:

There was no one to be seen; but, as he opened the door, he heard a strange sound in the corridor—a sound which scarcely could be called a groan, and scarcely a sigh, but seemed a compound of both, having the agony of the one combined with the sadness of the other.

Making a noise like this? Extremely in character for Varney.

I've talked before about how reading this book feels like unmedicated ADHD, and that extends to the actions of the characters. It's 2 in the morning, but Henry and Charles decide to embark on a little impromptu home renovation project, which: mood.

In a few minutes Henry returned, and although what he had succeeded in finding were very inefficient implements for the purpose, yet with this aid the two young men set about the task.

Evidently Marchdale's iron crowbar from a few chapters ago got misplaced. (A word on the crowbar: My dad recently pointed out to me that, when opening Marmaduke Bannerworth's coffin, Marchdale calls the crowbar "an old friend of mine" and says he is "much accustomed to its use". Just what exactly was he getting up to with that thing?)

To the disappointment of everyone, there turns out to be no secret passage, or even a measly secret chamber. It doesn't even seem like there's any kind of secret compartment in the portrait itself, which was my immediate first thought.

"I perceive as much; and the panel itself, although of more than ordinary thickness, is, after all, but a bit of planed oak, and apparently fashioned for no other object than to paint the portrait on."

Of course, perhaps the secret compartment is just very cunningly hidden. Still, this line of investigation appears to be at a dead end for now.

No time for that, the vampyre is here! Or at least, that's what Charles assumes, as he shoots it without hesitation. Imagine if it turned out to be Chillingworth again.

Varney has, at this point, been shot by every major character except George and Chillingworth. He is really determined to break into this house. Once again, though, shooting him does nothing to prevent him from escaping, and a search of the garden turns up nothing. Everybody is seriously rattled by this, and Marchdale proclaims, rather dramatically, that the only chance Henry and his family have at an escape from these horrors is to leave their house forever.

He then, seemingly for no reason, starts talking about Flora, and the horrible fate that surely awaits her as a vampire. And my god does he go ON and ON about the subject, adding WAY too much unnecessary detail. Charles has little patience for this.

"...oh, it is too dreadful to contemplate! Too horrible—too horrible!"

"Then wherefore speak of it?" said Charles, with some asperity.

He won't shut up, though.

"Mr. Charles Holland, if you wed, you would look forward to being blessed with children—those sweet ties which bind the sternest hearts to life with so exquisite a bondage. Oh, fancy, then, for a moment, the mother of your babes coming at the still hour of midnight to drain from their veins the very life blood she gave to them. To drive you and them mad with the expected horror of such visitations—to make your nights hideous—your days but so many hours of melancholy retrospection."

Dude, is this really necessary? Marchdale seems to think so.

"I will hear no more of this," cried Charles Holland.—"I will hear no more."

"I have done," said Mr. Marchdale.

"And 'twere well you had not begun."

"Nay, say not so. I have but done what I considered was a solemn duty."

A solemn duty!? Solemn duty to what, exactly? Touch grass, Marchdale.

Henry and Charles' respective responses to Marchdale's weird spiel are an interesting reflection of their characters. Charles is immediately confrontational, taking no shit from Marchdale and calling into question his motives. Henry, on the other hand, not only assumes good intentions from Marchdale, but that he, Henry, is in the wrong for getting upset.

"Under that assumption of doing duty—a solemn duty—heedless of the feelings and the opinions of others," said Charles, sarcastically, "more mischief is produced—more heart-burnings and anxieties caused, than by any other two causes of such mischievous results combined. I wish to hear no more of this." "Do not be angered with Mr. Marchdale, Charles," said Henry. "He can have no motive but our welfare in what he says. We should not condemn a speaker because his words may not sound pleasant to our ears."

Marchdale takes personal offense to Charles' remarks, and threatens to leave Bannerworth Hall, and at this point all of the klaxons are going off in my head. Marchdale is an old family friend; he presumably knows Henry quite well. This is an intentional manipulation tactic. And it works: Henry immediately urges Charles to apologize, in order to pacify Marchdale and keep the peace in the household.

Having known more than one Marchdale, I relate to Henry here; at the same time, I want to yell at him. Just let him go! You don't need his passive-aggressive ass! He is threatening to leave while your house is under active vampire siege because one of your friends was justifiably rude to him after he made a bunch of SUPER out-of-pocket remarks. He is not being the reasonable one here.

But Henry is in a desperate situation; he feels he can't afford to lose any allies. And, once again, we see the theme of characters being bound by manners. Marchdale is clearly in the wrong here, and yet Henry cannot call him out on it without appearing rude. It is a limitation whose effects will soon prove devastating to Henry.

Next: We meet Sir Francis Varney

[devdevlin]

hello! hope ur doing well :>> just wanna thank u for making peremo! it's such a wonderful piece of written work. the dialogue, the prose, the characterization of the two leads, the way the dynamic was fleshed out, etc etc everything! was so engaging! u weaved a tale that had me SEDUCED. i love how slow burn it all was!! tom had to see these intriguing sides of her bit by bit, that hermione had to get pushed into it, before he gets to form an obsession!! i was hitting that next chapter button like a fool crawling back to a paramour that i would gratefully allow to step on my balls (pls excuse the crass & nonsensical metaphor).

i'll try to keep this as short as possible omg (narrator: she did not, in fact, keep it as short as possible) but there's so much to love in peremo! like:

noncon/dark fics that feature a megalomaniac that underestimates the grit & acuity of the seemingly unremarkable female lead GETS meeee (rare as it is). like u rlly hit the nail on the head in depicting that aspect in peremo! every time tom succumbed to that crazed "who tf are u!!" state i was like clapping & pointing at my phone leonardo di caprio gif style. every time they got into some fucked up homicidal tom (tom) & jerry (hermione) ass scenario: standing ovation! i love it! bc as much as hermione is traumatized & is the constant recipient of the short end of the stick, tom cannot go on without her either !!! he didnt think she'd have that gorilla grip pussy on her but SURPRISE BITCH ! SHE'S UNDER UR SKIN !

hermione! love her!! im not even an hp fan lol but i love how she was written as flawed & unhingedly determined. the sexual assault scenes actually made me sob (a testament to ur power as the writer!). when she had that breakdown after almost flinging herself off the roof, hoo. boy. i was in pieces.

ur commitment to the darkness of the fic! that hermione in the worst-case scenario (letting an abusive man in her household that she fought tooth & nail to build, having him get his hands on her son, having all her sacrifices mean nothing in the end) is all so tragic & kudos to u for taking it there. im too much of a weakling :")) i wouldve sprinkled in some corny psychoanalysis just to somehow justify tom forming a suggestion of an affection towards klaus & their family cause i gots to soften the blow. i see ur vision & i admire it very much.

anw! thank u, thank u so much! i was in a depressive rut when i read ur fic & it rlly helped lift my spirit :)) i hope ur always well & best of luck in all that u do!

P.S. if u are in the mood for entertaining questions, i'd be in ur debt for the answers to these:

how'd u think tom would respond if somebody (perhaps klaus) asked him if he loves hermione?

i wonder how differently tom would treat a daughter? (ik ik, probably just the same but hey, a lady can have her girldad! tom delusion, right?)

how do u feel about peremo-inspired fics (w/ proper credits ofc!) ??? i've read the amazing ones on ao3 but i wanted to ask just in case! & ?? would it be alright if the depiction/interpretation of peremo tomione is slightly different from urs, like the same but slightly to the left & a bit sappy with it lmao

Oh my lord thank you so much for this anon! I read this at 4 am and had to forcibly restrain my happy squeals, and have since read it about twelve times over 🥹🖤😭

As for your questions:

1. “To the ends of the earth.”

2. Overall, I don’t see him treating a daughter too differently. Though I do see him being more aware of the company she keeps, and in the long term, I envision he’d bring her into his regime for different purposes (such as political manipulation, whereas with Klaus, I envision a loyal, hands-on groundwork sort of asset, if that makes sense)

3. Of course, I’m more than honoured that anyone would feel strongly enough about my story to write their own 🖤😭🖤😭 it’s an overwhelmingly huge compliment 🥹

[harrysmmm]

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟒 - 𝐀𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚

Fanfiction:The Relics of Hogwarts (CLICK THE LINK BEFORE READING THIS)

Draco malfoy x Y/N Riddle (f!reader)

A/N: I wrote this in a day (once again hihi) chapter 5 will be up tomorrow. Hope you enjoy this one. Don't forget, if you want to be added to the taglist write me through an inbox or put it in the comments! love you x

W/C: 3.2K

Warning: swearing, verbal violence.

Taglist: @jay-isgay @butterflyreads

masterlist here

Cloudy days had been passing by at Hogwarts. Classes were following each other; lunches were eaten one after the other; nights were slept through soft rain. There was a week left for Christmas break and it could be sensed that students were eager to unwire from schoolwork and get to relax for a few days.

Within the Slytherin main friend group, things were a little tense. Draco and Y/N barely talked to one another after the Chamber of Secrets’ incident. Blaise had subtly tried to cool the air between the both of them a few times, but it would make the situation far more tense – he eventually gave up on it. Y/N felt far too embarrassed to make any move. There was no explanation that could be made because she didn’t understand her feelings herself. She didn’t know she had that desire for Draco so strongly in her.

There wasn’t much time to dwell on the situation either because exams took place that week. Y/N had spent most of her time studying at the library or at the Great Lake when snow wasn’t hitting so hard. She wouldn’t really study with Pansy because the latter was not very academic – in fact, most exams she would attend unprepared. Y/N knew that it didn’t matter that much the grades she had but for some inexplicable reason she fondly enjoyed the act of studying. Besides, it would also distract her from the incident with Draco.

“Hey Y/N.” A girly voice interrupted the silence of her study session. She was sitting by herself under the shade of a tree, next to the Great Lake. She turned around and recognized Mary Rookwood, from the Slytherin-Gryffindor quidditch match.

“Hey Mary, what’s up?”

“Not much. Are you studying Potions?” Y/N hid the book of the Half-Blood Prince in case she knew about it.

“Yeah, got the test tomorrow.”

“Well, from what I’ve heard you don’t really need to study. You’re like the best at Potions, Slughorn won’t shut up about it.”

“Trust me, it’s not enough,” she replied.

“I think you need a break. I’ve seen you come here almost every day for the past week. Why don’t you join me and my friends? I can’t tell you what we’re doing, you’ll have to see it for yourself,” she playfully said.

“That sounds intriguing, hum…” she meditated the answer for a few seconds. It wouldn’t be counterproductive to join some Hufflepuff’s gang, taking into consideration that she had to get the cup of Hufflepuff. “Yeah, sure, why not?”

“Brilliant,” she replied. “Come on, hope you’re not afraid of heights.”

They both walked through the Forbidden Forest. They made some small talk about the school and their interests. Y/N came to really enjoy Mary’s company – she was a social girl who seemed to have little preoccupations; a half-blood that grew up in Manchester, her mother being a researcher on cures for fantastic animals’ diseases and her father being a baker, whatever that was.

“And we’re almost there,” Mary said.

“You still won’t tell me what we’re doing here?”

“You’ll see it in…now!”

Y/N looked ahead and saw a crowd of Hufflepuff students and one Gryffindor. They seemed to be cheering someone in the air, but Y/N couldn’t see anyone.

“Who are they cheering, Mary?”

“Look!”

Y/N looked up again and saw two giant animals flying, with one student on each of them. They were white winged horses that were fiercely soaring through the sky. One of them drastically landed on the ground, a few seconds later the second one followed it.

“And Finnimore wins the race! Woo-hoo!” A Hufflepuff boy shouted, while a Gryffindor got down from the winged horse.

“Fair race, Pince,” said the Gryffindor guy to the Slytherin.

Pince didn’t shake his hand, rolling his eyes at Finnimore.

“Hi guys,” Mary greeted everyone. “I brought someone today, this is Y/N Diggory. Y/N, this is everyone.”

“Hi,” she said.

Some of them said “hi” back to her.

“You’re Cedric’s cousin, am I right?” the Gryffindor guy asked her. A silence lingered in the air.

“Yeah, I am, you knew him?”

“A relative to Cedric is a friend of ours. Will, nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, Will.”

“Alright who’s next?” said a Hufflepuff guy. “Finnimore, you won. You can choose your opponent.”

“Very well.” He looked around at everyone, lastly his eyes meeting with hers. “Diggory, you up for it?”

“To ride a winged horse?”

“Yeah, that’s the basic idea,” Will added.

“I’ve never ridden one before, I thought they were forbidden at Hogwarts.”

“Well, they technically are,” added Mary. “We keep them as a secret here. This is not something you want to tell around the school.”

“I see,” Y/N replied.

“The horses do technically ride themselves, and if you do fall, you’ll fall into the Great Lake which is not that terrible, speaking from a guy that has fallen,” said Will to convince her.

“Alright, why not?” she finally gave up and approached the two horses.

“One last thing, Diggory,” Will added. His eyes were deeply staring into hers while a smirk was seen on his face. He had a sort of curly dark hair and deep brown eyes. He was objectively good looking. “We have to bet on something.” He looked back at the Hufflepuff guy that spoke earlier. “What do we have left, Logan?”

“Amortentia.”

“Who wins, gets a jar of Amortentia, deal?” She knew what Amortentia was: a powerful potion that could make someone fall in love with someone else. Tempting.

“Deal,” she said.

Both riders got on the horses.

“What breed are they?” Y/N asked.

“Granians. The fastest of all of them.”

“On my mark!” shouted the Hufflepuff boy.

“May the best win, Slytherin” Will said.

“You got it,” Y/N replied.

“Three, two, one, go!”

Both horses flew up to the sky so fast that Y/N couldn’t tell why she hadn’t fallen from hers yet. They were flying so vertically that she had to hold very tight the reins, her feet almost hanging loose if it wasn’t for the stirrups attached to the animal. Both horses were gaining on height, getting at a certain point above the clouds – Y/N’s sight being all blurry. Once she was six thousand five hundred feet above, the horse started to spin around, like if it was dancing ballet. Y/N thought it would’ve been a beautiful sight to see in hindsight. Suddenly, the horse stopped and went all the way down again, getting Y/N scream so loud she could’ve sworn it was therapeutic. Once they were a few feet above the lake, the horse started to speed up in a horizontal direction. Y/N couldn’t see where Will was, she didn’t know if she was beating him – she just wanted to enjoy the ride at that point. The horse got really close to the water and Y/N took a risk to leaf her hand through it – the experience was really liberating. When she got to one of the trees, the animal took a run and propelled itself straight ahead, to get to the finish line. Y/N caressed the animal’s head to cheer it to get to it. That seemed to work, and it fastened, landing next to the other students in the Forbidden Forest. Will wasn’t there just yet.

“Diggory! Diggory! Diggory!” the students were cheering.

Will landed a few seconds later.

“And Diggory wins the race!” Logan, the Hufflepuff boy, exclaimed.

“Woo-hoo!” Y/N screamed.

“Well done, Y/N! It had been a while since someone beat Will,” said Mary, hugging her to congratulate her.

“The proper Slytherin had to come to do it,” Y/N said, teasingly.

“You have it in your blood, Diggory, I reckon,” Will said, shaking his hand with hers.

“There you go, Y/N,” Logan said, handing her the jar of Amortentia. “Use it wisely.”

She took the jar, a pink liquid bubbling inside. She smiled at him.

“Who is up for a butterbear, guys?” blurted Will.

For the first time in weeks, she forgot about why she was at Hogwarts in the first place, and felt young, carefree, and happy.

ྀ࿔

“Who would you shag if you had the chance?”

Y/N was in bed. It was eleven p.m. and she was making small talk with Pansy.

“Never really thought about it, to be honest with you,” Y/N replied.

The brunette startled in bed. “Come on Y/N, that’s rubbish. It’s still valid if it’s not a Slytherin, won’t judge. There are some fine Gryffindor guys I wouldn’t mind fooling around with.”

“Pansy,” Y/N laughed. She did the same. “You start,” Y/N continued.

“No, I asked first, you start.”

“I won’t start.”

“Why won’t you start?”

“Because I don’t want to! You start!”

“Merlin’s beard, I’ll start! You’re mental, you know that?”

Y/N just laughed.

“Okay, it’s someone we both know,” the brunette started saying.

“We’re playing guessing now?”

“Yes. It’s a Slytherin.”

“Blaise?”

“No! That one is for you!”

Y/N was the one that startled then. “What?! Why?!”

“Haven’t you seen the way he looks at you?”

“No!”

“He’s totally into you, Y/N. I thought you knew!”

“I told you, I don’t really focus on those things!”

“You’re so odd.”

“Well, who’s your guy then?”

“He’s friends with Blaise, though.”

Y/N started to get the hints.

“He’s quite tall, and lately rather mysterious too. He has a dark sense of humor, quite childish if you ask me.” She started ranting. “He, for some odd reason, is always bringing around green apples with him. He loves black-”

“Alright, we got who he is, don’t need to further explain.”

“I love him, Y/N.”

Something stopped within Y/N.

“No way,” she said.

“Since first year, actually. He was always so childish I never really thought he looked at girls any differently, until this year. He’s matured so much over the summer; I don’t know what’s gotten into him, but I think it’s the perfect moment.”

You knew what had gotten into him. He was not dealing with kids’ problems no more.

“I don’t know. Haven’t really noticed.” Of course she had noticed but she wasn’t up to talk about that with Pansy.

“You notice nothing, Y/N,” the brunette said.

Y/N ignored the comment.

“What is that?” Pansy asked, pointing at something Y/N had on her open bag. “Is that Amortentia?”

Y/N proceeded to close her bag. “Yeah, no big deal.”

“But it is a big deal. How did you get it? Did you steal it?”

“For Merlin’s beard, no. Slughorn gave it to me, for the good grades.”

“He gave you Amortentia? That’s so twisted.”

“Yeah, well… You know Slughorn, he lets himself carry away quite a lot.”

“Be careful with that. It’s very powerful.”

“Won’t use it.”

“Right.”

Both students got silent. Y/N noticed Pansy was ready to go to sleep, so she turned off the lights, the thought of her and Draco still lingering in her mind.

ྀ࿔

Exams had finished that very same day. Defense Against the Dark Arts was the last exam of the term – Y/N was feeling like she hadn’t really aced that one, but she was grateful that Snape was the one grading them.

She had also been invited by Slughorn to a Christmas party, only exclusive to the best potion students. She had to bring a plus one but she hadn’t asked anyone yet. She had thought of asking Blaise in the first place, but after Pansy’s revelation of the latter’s liking on Y/N, she had thought it was not appropriate to ask him. Draco was, of course, out of the picture, the two still not talking to the other. The only person that came to mind was, against all odds, a certain Gryffindor boy.

“Would you go to this Christmas party with me?” Y/N asked.

“The Slughorn one?” Will asked back.

“Yes, is there any other one in place?”

Will laughed. “Sure. Sounds fun.”

“Cool!”

“Isn’t it odd that a Slytherin is asking a Gryffindor though?” Will asked.

“It just is if you want to make it that way,” she replied.

“Alright Diggory, pick you up at six thirty?”

“Sounds good.”

ྀ࿔

Will went down to the dungeons, where the Slytherin common room was located. He was wearing a black suit, and a light blue tie. He was waiting for Y/N outside the stone wall. His thoughts traveled to quidditch, how the next day he had a match against Ravenclaw. He was one of the chasers of the Gryffindor team since his year three. He had been recruited by Oliver Wood when he was still the captain. He loved sports, that’s why he was also quite natural with winged horse race. Among the school, he had gained quite the reputation of social, popular boy. In fact, that same night he had been invited to a Hufflepuff party - party that he had politely declined to go out with Y/N to Slughorn’s. He didn’t really know what was in her that attracted him; he also didn’t know if it crossed the limit of friendship just yet. But he did know he liked her, in what way? He was still unsure of that.

Y/N appeared from the stone wall.

“Hey you.”

“Hey! Shall we?” Will asked.

“Yes.”

Will noticed Y/N’s attune. She was wearing a silk silver dress, paired up with white high heels. Her hair was partly pinned so her face was fully uncovered. She was wearing light, glittery makeup that accentuated her high cheekbones. Will thought to himself that she looked gorgeous.

They walked through the castle gaining some looks from almost every student they crossed path with. It was already rare that a Gryffindor had something to do with a Slytherin, but especially if that Gryffindor was the popular Will Finnimore and that Slytherin was Cedric’s cousin, Y/N Diggory. They arrived at the seventh floor, where the party was located.

“Drink?” asked Neville Longbottom, a Gryffindor student, to the couple.

“Neville!” said Will.

“I didn’t get into the Slug Club,” said the white-dressed boy. “It’s okay, though. He’s got Belby handing out towels in the loo.”

“Oh well, you want a drink Y/N?”

“Sure.” Will grabbed two drinks for the both of them.

“Thanks, mate,” said Will.

“Sure.”

Will looked around the place, seeing if he could find someone he knew - it seemed like he actually knew everyone in the place. His hand waved at some Gryffindor girl named Sasha.

“Y/N, could I talk to you for a second?”

Will turned around and bumped into Harry Potter talking to Y/N.

ྀ࿔

“Y/N, could I talk to you for a second?”

Y/N was confused as to why Harry wanted to talk to her, after the stolen book accusation. She looked over at Will.

“Do you mind, Will?”

“No, go ahead. Hi mate!”

“Hey Will,” replied Harry.

Will went over to talk to a certain girl. Y/N focused on Harry.

“What is it, Harry?”

“I just wanted to apologize to you, for having accused you about the book.”

“Oh,” Y/N wasn’t expecting that. “That’s alright. Have you found it yet?”

“No, but it was wrong from me to accuse you, just because you seemed to do good in Potions.”

“Alright,” replied Y/N. “No hard feelings, Potter.”

Harry smiled at her. He seemed to look behind her at someone. Y/N looked back and saw Hermione hiding behind some curtains.

“I might’ve to go check on her.”

“Yeah, she seems wanting to avoid someone.”

“McLaggen,” clarified Harry.

“Oh yeah, that guy is the worst,” added Y/N.

“If you’ll excuse me.” He went over to her rescue.

Y/N stood there alone when Slughorn joined in.

“Y/N, you made it!”

“Of course, Professor. Wouldn’t miss it!”

“Good, good… Oh the photographer!” A girl with a camera flashed at them. Y/N didn’t even have the time to pose. “That might end on the shelf, Y/N… Oh, Professor Snape, what a surprise!”

Y/N was alone again until Will approached her.

“Lively party, innit?”

“To Slughorn’s taste,” she replied.

The room was covered with green curtains hanging from the ceiling. A cozy fire was warming up the place.

“How come I’ve never seen you around before?”

“I came this year. I was homeschooled before.”

“Oh, you lived with your parents?”

“No, I lived with my uncle and aunt. My parents died in an accident.”

“Oh, sorry about that.”

“It’s fine,” she just replied, not wanting to have to further explain her fake story.

“I was raised by my mom, my dad died when I was a kid,” he continued.

“Oh, are they wizards?”

“Slytherins always so focused on blood. No, I’m a muggle-born, does that change something?”

She had been taught that changed everything but never really understood why. “I don’t know,” she replied.

“Well, Cedric was a half-blood, and he was one of the brightest guys I’ve ever met.”

“You were close?”

“Yes. He was two years older than me, but he never made me feel younger.”

“You’re a year seven, aren’t you?”

“Hadn’t I said that before?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Yeah, I am. I remember being in year five when he passed away. He was actually in year seven. I had always looked up to him, everyone loved Cedric. In fact, during the commemoration act almost everyone in the school came to say goodbye, even Slytherins.”

“What did you do?”

“You don’t know?” Y/N shook her head. “We honored the house of Hufflepuff and threw their more possessed item into the Great Lake, the cup of Helga Hufflepuff.”

Y/N’s heart stopped.

“Their relic?”

“Yes. It is now in the deep water, probably the Grindylows own it now.”

“The Grindylows you say?”

“Yeah, they are some vicious little demons that live in the lake. You don’t wanna mess with them.”

Y/N was going to ask further questions until someone interrupted the party.

“Take your hands off me, you filthy Squib!” Draco and Filch abruptly entered the room.

“Professor Slughorn, Sir,” started saying Filch. “I just discovered this boy lurking in an upstairs corridor. He claims to have been invited to your party.”

“Okay, okay, I was gatecrashing. Happy?” his eyes looked into Y/N’s and moved towards Will. Her heart escaped a beat.

“I’ll escort him out,” Snape said, getting in the scene.

“Certainly, Professor.” They exited the room.

“Alright, everyone. Carry on, carry on,” Slughorn laughed the incident off.

Y/N’s look went back to Will’s. “Will you excuse me for a second?”

“Sure,” Will said.

Y/N found her way out of the party. She bumped into Draco outside, Snape already having left.

“Draco,” she called him.

Draco turned back, looking at her. “What?”

“What were you doing out there?”

“What do you think I was doing?”

“Are you angry at me?”

“Piss off, Y/N. None of your bloody business,” he violently replied.

“But it is my business, Draco. You know that, and don’t you dare talk to me like that!”

“I talk to you as I please!” He got closer to her, a very angry look on his face. “You leave me the fuck alone from now on, I don’t need you to be asking sneaky questions. I don’t love you.”

Y/N held back her tears, never having been talked like that before. “This is all because of the vision, isn’t it? Isn’t it?!”

“I couldn’t care less about your pathetic desire.” Just like that, he left, leaving Y/N with the sourest heart she had ever had to bare. She didn’t know a certain scarred one had been eavesdropping their conversation.

[adriancatrin]

Best Zukka fic recs and/or Azula centric fics (bonus points for both!) I'm desperate for more content.

(digging thru my bookmarks) hoo boy ok let's see

i'm gonna put a cut because this might be long!! idk what all of the zukka 'classics' you've read so i just included 'em if they're my faves. list is in no particular order, pls heed warnings/tags on AO3 as some include potentially triggering content ~

like the sun inside of you by ofherlionheart: Zuko is sixteen years old when he’s handed a crown, a throne, and a hundred-year ancestral legacy of colonial imperialism. He’s not scared of the work; he’s scared of being consumed by the responsibilities and burdens he’s claimed. What Zuko doesn’t quite realize, yet, is that he’s not alone in this. Still in progress, one chapter left to go. Very slow-burn Zukka, and some great Azula stuff

To Cleave These Roots We've Made by Erisenyo: Sokka and Zuko have been roommates and best friends through college and graduation, through first jobs and new jobs and promotions, through friends getting married and sisters being pregnant and everything in between. But that all ends in four days. Four days to pack up an apartment. Four days before Zuko goes to law school and Sokka stays behind. Four days to untangle two lives that Sokka and Zuko have spent ten years weaving together. Can you call it a divorce, if you were never actually together in the first place? I don't remember Azula's involvement in this, but gosh darn it's a good one

i won't stumble as i follow down this path (cause words that are spoken are just other things to have) by jublis: It takes Zuko one year to visit his sister again. Featuring birthday weeks, struggling with your own goodness, and a future. Pretty sure this is a Zukki, ft. Azula very heavily

Destiny in the details by salytierra: Sokka heard that story before. Of course he did, the turning point of Zuko's destiny, the single bravest and most noble (or stupid) thing he's ever done. He retold the thoughts that went through his head back then, the repercussions... but he left out a single detail. And it's that detail that changes everything.  I need to see his soulmark. Sokka thinks, heart hammering in his chest. Fantastic post-canon soulmate AU. Azula's not in it, though

Divine Intervention by AggressiveStress: Sokka has had a lot of dates but they never stick around and he doesn’t know why. Literally everyone else knows why. Honestly I don't remember much about this one I just know I really liked it hahaha

Maybe I Don't Want Heaven by inkfingers_mcgee: Zuko does not realize that he wants to break up with Mai until she says, “We need to talk about us,” with an unmistakable finality, and the candles around his meditation mat don’t even flicker. // Five years after ascending the throne, Zuko reaches yet another crossroads of self. Sokka helps him through it. Mai incites national legislative reform. Azula is listed as a character in this one but I don't remember her role. The fic is great though. slow burn in case u haven't caught onto the trend of my fave fics yet haha

Of Tea and Turtle Ducks (and the Turtle Duck Guy) by Erisenyo: Sokka is nothing if not enthusiastic about his interests--Learning. Campus traditions. The campus turtle ducks. The guy who's watching the ducks so intently this year.  Zuko is nothing if not intense about duck watching. (It's not really about the ducks.) (Is it ever?) No Azula again but gosh darn it this fic is so cute. (expect more erisenyo on this list whoops)

this ultraviolet morning light by GallifreyanFairytale: sokka and zuko break up, make up, go undercover, thwart a rebellion, watch the sunrise, and change the course of fire nation history. not necessarily in that order. I don't remember the level of Azula's involvement in this fic, but I do remember she's in recovery and Zuko thinks about her a fair amount.

Empty Bodies, Empty Smiles by attackfish: Zuko sorts through the wreckage of his childhood and comes across a doll given to his sister. Not a shipping fic, just a character study of sorts of Azula as a child. It's... very sad, but incredibly nuanced in its understanding of her as a very unhappy and unfortunately disturbed child

Will We Last the Night by CSHfic/VSfic: Chief Arnook never assigns Sokka to protect Princess Yue, so he goes to fight the Fire Nation with the other men. When the moon dies, and the ocean spirit takes its revenge, Sokka is caught standing on the deck of a Fire Nation ship. Sokka should have drowned… and he would have drowned, if not for a certain Fire Nation raft fleeing the North Pole. An enemies-to-lovers season 2 rewrite, where Sokka is separated from the gaang during the Siege of the North, and travels the Earth Kingdom with Zuko instead Azula is just S2 Azula w/o redemption I believe, but my goodness the Zukka is just so. SO sweet

Burning Bright by Erisenyo: On a particularly hopeless night, Zuko sends out a messenger hawk to nowhere. He didn’t realize that his messenger hawk is deeply committed to completing the job. And that Sokka happens to be traveling straight through nowhere, at the time. I'm currently rereading this series for the umpteenth time, it's amazing, highly recommend, Azula is hyper intriguing in it too w/ a very complicated relationship with Zuko

All's Fair by Lovely_Elbow_Leech: Book one ends with two major diffrences: 1. Sokka went on the mission with Hahn (it did not go well) 2. Zhao survives the North Pole and that proves unfortunate for everybody (except Zhao, obviously)  Imprisoned on Zhao’s war ship, Sokka and Zuko have to work together to survive. They are not very enthusiastic about this prospect.  And they argue. A lot. Another of my top faves. Book 2 is in progress

Real Slow by surveycorpsjean: “I see.” Zuko closes the scroll. “Is the Water Tribe sending a replacement?" “Uh yeah,” Sokka gestures to himself dramatically. “You’re looking at him.” No Azula I believe but heckin' slow burn

this is a gift (it comes with a price) by WitchofEndor: There is a ghost on the Wani. But the crew have grown used to - even fond of - Prince Zuko. And no matter how many times General Iroh tries to gently explain the boy’s predicament, tries to suggest that he might attempt to move on, Prince Zuko can always be found watching the sea. There is a prisoner in the palace. Not Zukka, but the relationships in it are fantastic, including Azula and Zuko.

 While Mighty Oaks Do Fall by WitchofEndor: The newly-crowned Fire Lord Ozai offers his firstborn son to service in the temple. This turns out to be a catastrophic mistake. Wacky crazy fic. There's something funky fresh happening with Azula, but it's an in-progress fic so. who knows where it'll go

I probably don't need to include The Art of Burning but it's in my fave bookmarks so. Same for Blue

Also in retrospect I have a lot of issues with this fic, but here's my post-canon Zukka w/ Azula redemption fic: New Heights

[kitkatsudon]

KitKat reads the TKEM Novel: Chapter 2

That night, a broken flute

So. Chapter 2. If you haven’t guessed already by the title of this chapter, it covers the topic of that fateful night back in 1994, when Lee Lim kills Lee Ho, little Gon comes in, gets traumatised, they both leave with half of the Manpasikjeok, etc etc. That’s kind of… the first half of this chapter? The whole chapter is definitely affected by this, but after this there are two more scenes in this chapter: one where Gon is looking at Taeeul’s ID card in his Alice in Wonderland book (notably skipping over “Are you having fun, Captain Jo?” and that subsequent conversation between Gon and Yeong which is one of my personal favourite scenes, but anyway. They do reference it, but it’s not the same), and then the scene where Gon is at the stables, he hears the sound of the flute, and he runs away on Maximus and goes into the portal.

My first thought? Not enough Yeong. Again. For real this time. Yeong has one line of dialogue, and that’s just a radio call to Hopil and the others to chase after Gon, there’s no new insights about Yeong in this chapter, absolutely nothing. And I know, I know that I can’t really judge a chapter like this on its Yeong content when none of these scenes contained Yeong in the first place, but like… they could have included that conversation between Gon and Yeong in Gon’s study? Instead, the allusion to it we get is this:

Why didn’t ‘he’ who saved him come back? Wasn’t it worth coming to see him at least once?

Yeong said that he didn’t come because Gon had grown up so well that he didn’t need anyone’s help, but Gon wanted to ask, ‘didn’t he want to come and see how well he had grown up?’

There it is, folks! That’s all we’re getting! And look… it’s easy enough to tell from the scene in the show that Gon isn’t really satisfied with Yeong’s answer, but a part of me does feel disappointed that this heartfelt conversation between those two in the first episode was boiled down to this in the book. None of the tenderness, none of the warmth, just “idc yeongie i still want to see my saviour :/.” And then… hoo boy. I can already tell that this book is going to test my patience as someone who is not particularly a taegon enjoyer, because a few paragraphs down we get this absolute gem.

The government ID in his hand was the only trace he had left behind, and it was a question. Every day, Gon would ask the woman on the card, ‘Do you know why he saved me? Why I survived?’ Thanks to this, the woman had become a habit for him. After twenty-five years, she was more familiar than anyone else. For Gon, it was comforting. Before he knew it, she had become the reason he was alive.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry, whAT?! The reason he was alive? His reason for living?? More familiar than anyone else????? Bestie… she is a piece of plastic!!! As far as you know right now!!!!! If this is your reason for living… Gon, blink twice if you need to see a therapist. Oh, wait, hang on, this reminds me of another passage in this chapter…

Was he really dead? Suddenly, he felt a surge of doubt.

Maybe it was because that night, twenty-five years ago, was still so vivid. The stickiness of stepping through the blood of innocents, the smell of blood that stung his nostrils. The pain of the strangulation, the thinning of his breath. The sight of his father’s lifeless body in front of him. The underlying dread, the fear. The emotions were as sharp as the sensations.

However, now that Gon was the king, they were emotions he couldn’t show anyone. Walking slowly to his desk, Gon composed himself as he sat down. The good news was that he wasn’t weak enough to be consumed by the memories of that day.

Oh, well, that’s ok then! Don’t worry everyone! Gon is fine, actually! Sure, he still has very vivid memories of that awful night, he still hates people touching his body, he can’t wear a tie without getting flashbacks to that night, he doesn’t feel like he can share this with anyone because of his status as the king, but don’t worry! He’s not so weak that he’s super affected by this or anything, that would be totally cringe.

Gon, I’m going to say this once again, blink twice if you need to see a therapist. Because this… my god. That’s an unhealthy thought pattern if I’ve ever heard one. I think the show wants the solution to this to be “gon is fine enough to be a great boyfriend, but if he ever does need to talk to anyone, this will only ever be taeeul because he the king to her.” What I’m hearing, however, is “gon needs to trust his loved ones, and learn to be comfortable with the fact that he’s both the king and a person, and he needs to be comfortable with communicating with people like yeong and lady noh and prince buyeong who have loved him for a very long time and want gon the person to be alright.” Like… surely the message here isn’t just that Gon can never ever trust anyone from the Kingdom with his emotions, right? Where’s the growth there? Finding someone from another universe is the most convoluted loophole in this situation, when he could just like… talk to his best friend? Even if that’s hard for him, growth is hard! But it’s important!

But *ahem* anyway, sorry, this is meant to be about the novel, not my wider thoughts about the show in general…

You might be wondering, hey KitKat, you said that this chapter was half about the night of the treason, so why haven’t you spoken about that? And that… is because I don’t really have that much to say? It’s mostly just an action sequence, there aren’t really any character moments that made me like !!!!, like the other parts did. The main detail is that it really hammers in the detail that Lee Lim feels unfairly treated because of the nature of his birth. He’s jealous of his brother and his nephew for being born into a life where they never really had to struggle.

Actually, you know what? I am going to share this paragraph, purely so I can go on another side tangent.

Prince Imperial Geum. Lee Lim was crowned Prince Imperial Geum at the age of thirteen. He was the firstborn son, but his mother died before she could become queen, and she was posthumously declared a noblewoman. So, his younger brother, who knew nothing and was only good, became the king.

Now, let’s do some maths, shall we? Both Lee Lim and Lee Ho have confirmed dates of birth in the show. Lee Lim was born on 27th February 1951, and Lee Ho was born on 23rd October 1952. (Another fun fact is that Gon’s mother was born on 8th August 1965, so when Gon was born on 28th October 1987, his mother was 22 and his dad was 35, and I know that age gap relationships can be perfectly consensual and loving but man… I can’t deny that something there feels a little bit icky… but anyway.) Assuming neither Lee Ho nor Lee Lim were born prematurely, this implies that Lee Lim was conceived in May 1950, and Lee Ho was conceived in January 1952. If their father, King Haejong, was doing everything by the book, if Lee Lim’s mother was his official partner, and the earliest that she died was 27th February 1951, this means that King Haejong moved on from this love of his life to get to the baby-making stage with Lee Ho’s mother in less than a year. It’s… plausible? But if Lee Ho was legitimate, then King Haejong and his new partner had to be married somewhere between February 1951 and October 1952, and it would have had to have been a big royal wedding with a lot of planning, and… mmmMH I don’t want to make any conclusions, because there are a few explanations for this quick timeline and it’s much more fun if this is left up to individual interpretation, but what I am pretty sure on is that this situation with King Haejong and his lovers wasn’t as simple as “:( lee lim’s poor mother died before she could be made the queen.” It’s giving… less tragic, more scandal, somewhere on this timeline. Either way, I am narrowing my eyes at you, King Haejong.

Mmmh… anything else? Maybe this:

In the Cheonjongo scene, Yoo Gyeongmu, Lee Lim’s second in command, says to him that they need to leave because the “Golden Army” is coming. In the official English subs on Netflix, this is just translated as Royal Guard, BUT it’s definitely a different word. Royal Guard, in the book, has always been 근위대, but Yoo Gyeongmu specifically refers to a certain 금군, and this had specific Hanja next to it in the book, so it must be a thing. What is this Golden Army? Will it be referenced again, other than in this scene? It’s not a code name, little Gon also thinks to himself that his saviour is leaving because the Golden Army is on their way. Is it a specific task force within the Royal Guard? If so, what do they do?? I have a horrible suspicion that we’ll never know.

Oh, and one more thing before I bullet point exactly what we’ve learnt from this chapter.

It was said that the prince was a prodigy, a genius who could read, write, and do mathematics at an early age.

*quietly adds ‘hyperlexia’ next to ‘savant mathematical abilities’ onto my imaginary list of evidence of gon being autistic*

That post will come eventually. But not for a while.

So!! What have we learnt in chapter two?

Somewhere on the palace grounds, vaguely near Cheonjongo, is a gingko tree!

Where Lee Lim was described as being bold and cruel, Lee Ho was described as having a “cool temperament that could be considered weak.” Even if Lee Ho isn’t in my good books for getting a 21 year old pregnant when he was 34, that still feels kind of mean.

Cheonjongo was home to “various treasures, from crowns to cash, ceramics to swords, treasures handed down from generation to generation.”

The current Captain of the Royal Guard died that night, stepping in front of Lee Ho.

The Netflix subs miss out Lee Ho saying something that roughly translates to “What the heck?!” before he asks “Brother, what do you think you’re doing?” which is something that I wish they’d kept in.

When Lee Lim killed his brother, he was happy to prove that Lee Ho was weaker than him.

Gon was commended as a little genius, and this is the only measure by which Lee Lim thinks he might be better than his father. That doesn’t change the fact that Lee Lim still has to kill him, though.

Even in that horrible moment, and despite Gon being seven years old internationally, he was actively thinking about strategy, wanting to strike Lee Lim with the Four Tiger Sword while he was laughing, because it was a moment of weakness.

Lee Lim got his royal title when he was thirteen, Korean age, so presumably he was 11/12 years old internationally.

The first time little Gon heard the flute music was when his saviour came for him, not before, which begs the question as to why he went to Cheonjongo that night in the first place. Maybe because his dad wanted to show him the Manpasikjeok?

This “Golden Army” section of the Royal Guard existed, at least in 1994. Maybe it still does in the present. Maybe it doesn’t. That remains to be seen.

The official story was that Royal Guards shot Lee Lim dead on the beach, not that he was found washed up dead like I assumed in the show. Maybe this was just a detail in the show that I forgot about, but I’m including it here because it confused me at first.

Lee Lim’s “death” had always seemed futile and meaningless to Gon.

Apparently, according to Gon, all the fear, grief, and hurt has already faded away from that night with time, and the only thing he still has is the question of why his saviour hasn’t come back for him. Apparently.

Please imagine a strained voice for this next point: Jeong Taeeul’s ID card became Gon’s reason for living. *sigh.*

This is something I’d noticed before, but this whole scene where he looks at the ID card in his book, and everything in the show immediately preceding it that the book cut - this all happens on 10th September 2019. Is there a significance to this date? YES! THERE IS! IT’S YEONG’S BIRTHDAY! THEY CUT OUT YEONG’S SCENE ON HIS GODDAMN BIRTHDAY!!!!!!

The Royal Guard was on high alert after the shooting at the rowing competition, and yet Gon still managed to escape? He’s quite impressive.

The main reason Gon was suspicious that Lee Lim wasn’t dead, despite them having a corpse, was because Lee Lim risked everything to get the Manpasikjeok, but his half wasn’t found on this corpse. This is what Gon is thinking about as he’s looking at the portal for the first time.

As Gon is riding through the place in between, in the portal dimension, he’s thinking of the passage of Alice in Wonderland that he read to the children a few days ago, of Alice following the clock rabbit into the rabbit hole, and then falling further and further down.

And that’s it! I’m… actually surprised at how long this ended up being, because I definitely found the first chapter a lot more entertaining than this one. Though to be honest, that was mostly the shameless Gon worshipping. There was definitely some of that this chapter, but not at all to the same extent. Next time… I haven’t really looked very hard at the next chapter, but I think it’s going to cover Taeeul and Gon’s first meeting, from their very first interaction to Gon’s time in the police station. And now I say that, I’m suddenly realising that I’m quite excited to find out what Gon is thinking when he sees Eunseob for the first time. But not too excited. I don’t think it’s wise to have expectations that are too high with this book.

Final thoughts? Underwhelming. I know this book can’t deviate much from the show, but I was disappointed with how little extra information we learnt about Lee Lim in the Cheonjongo scene. Does he really just want *gestures vaguely* power? Is it really just because he feels it’s unfair that he wasn’t born to be the king? Come on, where’s the flavour? Does he want to be more powerful than God because he just wants power? Does he want to rule Corea? Does he want to rule the world? The multiverse??? What is his endgame here??? He gets the Manpasikjeok, then what??? I was hoping that the book would give us some more insight, but it absolutely has not done that so far. Ah well. I suppose it’s only Chapter 2. There’s still time.

Other than that, my main takeaway is that Lee Gon is taking a long, long swim in a certain river in Egypt in regards to how he’s Totally Fine And Ok after the night of the treason. Did he ever get therapy after that night? If so, his therapist didn’t do a very good job if he still thinks that he can’t tell his loved ones about his “weak” feelings because he’s the king. If he didn’t get therapy, then I want to have serious words with whoever looked at this child who just saw his father murdered and almost got murdered himself, and decided “yeah, he’ll probably be ok.”

But of course, he’s fine! It’s below the king to have these so-called “mental health struggles.”

[boygiwrites]

Harley D. Dixon 33

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📖Chapter List.

Author's Note.

TW: CHARACTER DEATH. OFF-SCREEN SUICIDE.

This chapter is heavy with a bittersweet/happy ending. As for the intensity level of the death, think back to the chapter where Shane died. If you want to know more, look at the first tag of this post. Please be wary of this before you read!

Through the wire circle, down at the bottom of the hill, the tiny prisoners are being kicked out.

Curling my fingers tighter around the fence, I squint against the sun, watching as the gate is closed in their faces. They're left to stand there, without direction or purpose, in a sort of purgatory. They can either stay there and eat gravel until they starve, or they can face the outside world. If Dale can hear me, I'm sorry for thinking this, but, good riddance. There certainly ain't no phones out there no more, or even any food, and I know they'll die, but, good riddance. We'on know them. If we let them into our cell block, we'd be downright fools.

You don't put foxes in a chicken coop. It's just common sense, and we don't have much, but we have that.

As our group walk off to continue their chores, content with the death sentence, T-Dog lingers by the gate, digging into his pocket.

Surprisingly, he passes them what looks like a granola bar.

"They're gonna need more than that," Carl muses from beside me. "They need weapons. Ammo. Water."

The two prisoners are less than enthusiastic to receive the snack, but pocket it with a nod anyway. Rick went back into their cell block and packed up their half of the food for 'em, because a deal's a deal, but every crumb counts. A snack can save yer life same way a gun can. 

As they turn into the field beyond the prison, I shrug. "Rick'll prolly let them back into their cell block if they come back."

"You think they will?"

If they don't die out there first, then the answer is obvious. "S'like when ya put'cher dog outside when they's naughty!"

He giggles, "They always wanna come back in."

"Them two fellers ain't no wild dogs," I agree. "They's a pair of chihuahuas."

Before Carl and I can watch the two prisoners for any longer, the door to our cell block opens behind us.

Turning around, a smile makes its way onto my face as Herschel shakily plods down the steps, a crutch wedged underneath each of his armpits. Beth and Lori are dutifully fussing over him, ready to catch him if he falls, but he's managing just fine on his own.

"Whoo-hoo, Herschel!" Carl whoops as we walk over, earning a grin from his Momma. "You ready to race me, yet?"

"Give me another day. I'll take you on," He chuckles breathlessly as he breaches the last step, noticing Mouse. "Hey, boy."

I ask him hopefully, "Will ya race me, too?"

"Oh, no," He exclaims as he rests against the rusty railing, the white sunlight curving over his face. "Now, you're a different story."

"You're being silly," Lori smiles to him.

"I hope so."

"Don't worry, Herschel," I knock my elbow into his. "I'll go easy on ya!"

"How generous. Perhaps Carl and I will just have to verse you as a team?"

"Then it'll just be twice as embarrassing when she beats us both," Carl snickers.

Everybody down in the field can be heard shouting cheers up to us, as Herschel lifts his hand off the crutch to give them a wave.

"Come on," Lori says, eyeing his free hand until he grips the crutch again. "What do you say we go rest at that table over there?"

"Well, I'd say I've got no choice."

"You're right about that," Beth says as we guide him across the courtyard. "Carl, what do you think of his new pants? Stylish, huh?"

The boy glances down, only just noticing the change. "Hell yeah."

"Beth was telling us she tailored them herself," Lori says, sounding impressed.

"Well, I didn't do it alone," The girl smiles as we reach the picnic table, carefully sitting Herschel down. "Harley helped me."

"I just held the string," I say shyly.

"No job too small," Herschel muses to me with a smile, before gazing out at the scenery around us, sighing contentedly.

As grey and bleak as this place may be, with its dead walkers and concrete walls, it's a nice day out, which is always a consolation no matter where we are in the world. The sky hangs bright and blue like a polished dome over our heads, painted with smeared, fluffy clouds. If I really wanted to, I could pretend it's just another summer's day back on the farm, but I'on think I do. I don't need peaches and cows to be happy.

"Good to see you up and at 'em again, Greene," My Dad smirks as he comes through the gate, taking the man's shoulder.

As he squeezes and pulls away, Herschel exclaims, "It's good to be up. I couldn't stand to be in that bed a moment longer."

"I bet. You could come help me clear the fence if ya wanted," He jokes as he walks off. "My students are on break."

"We're just leaving the grunt work to the grunt," Carl calls after him.

"Sure you are," Dad says over his shoulder, before drawing his knife and downing one of the many walkers at the fence.

As he gets back to work, Mouse runs up to us with his tennis ball between his slobbery teeth, dropping it at my feet.

Picking it up, I hold it out to Herschel. "Wanna throw it for 'im?"

"Absolutely," He says, taking it.

He throws the ball across the courtyard, sending Mouse scrambling after it like it's a little animal he's gotta catch. It's nice watching Herschel play fetch with Mouse like this, spending the morning chatting with each other about useless things like the weather and seasonal crops. 

After about ten minutes, when he gives me the ball to throw, it skips like a stone into a pile of trash near the dumpsters. Whoops!

"Ohhh," Carl exclaims dramatically, watching Mouse nose through the junk. "Foul ball."

Giving him a bit of a shove on the shoulder, I laugh, "Shut up, Carl!"

"She never claimed to be a pitcher," Beth giggles. "She's more of a kicker."

"Yeah, I'm a kicker," I agree, with twinkle-toes Carl dodging me as I try landing a kick to his ankle, "Lemme show ya!"

"She's attacking me!"

"I'm a biter, too!"

"Kids will be kids," Herschel chuckles heartily to the girls, shaking his head. After a short pause, I hear him utter, "What—...?"

It takes me and Carl a moment to settle down, pushing at each other and swallowing down our giggles, before we look in the direction of the dumpsters, where everyone has pinned their attention. The laughter dies in my throat just as quickly as it had come alive. Mouse has completely abandoned his search for the ball — My first clue something's wrong —, staring unflinchingly around the corner.

He starts growling lowly, making my Dad turn around just before a rotten foot steps out into the open.

A face peeks out, melted and dripping.

A walker?

Out here?

Then there's a second, and a third, and a suddenly obvious cacophony of groans that could only come from a mob.

As another walker appears on the opposite side of the courtyard, sandwiching us in, Lori gasps.

I exclaim, "What the Hell?"

Where'd they come from?

"Get inside!" My Dad shouts at us, drawing his crossbow, shooting, killing the closest corpse. "Get inside, quick!"

"Come on," Lori grunts as she and Beth haul Herschel onto his crutches. "Come on, we have to go. We have to go!"

The rest of the group are running up the road, screaming our names and fumbling with keys and guns, ripping the gate to the courtyard open, but it's total and sudden chaos, walkers scattered everywhere. Rick rears his axe back, slamming it into a rotting forehead. The blood spurts. The body falls. We can't take this many on, not like this. Dad was right. We have to run. I unsheathe my knife as Herschel and the girls hobble across the courtyard, my eyes darting from face to face, from yellowed mouth to cloudy eyes to melted skin.

"Mouse?" I call out, feeling almost guilty for wanting to run off and save him. "Oh, my God!"

A body breaks apart from all the others. It reaches out for us, its fingers curved like scythes.

Beth squeals, terrified. "Get away from us!"

There's a disgusting SQUELCH as I drive my knife into its knee, the cold blood splattering my cheek. Twist. Pop. Its knee buckles.

Herschel and Beth scurry up the steps as I pull my knife out — I don't have to kill it. It'll only waste time — shouting coming from all directions as I watch another walker lunge for Herschel and Beth. He raises his crutch, bracing the rubber stub on its chest.

I stand up, ready to help.

As soon as I'm back on my feet, a loud alarm rings out, freezing me to the spot. Who turned those on?

"Harley!" My Dad's voice roars from across the courtyard. "Come here!"

"Let's go, girl!"

T-Dog takes my arm. I'm being dragged toward Dad, tryna spot everybody else. Rick, he's with Lori, Maggie, Carol, and Carl, shoving them all into a big, red cage, closing the door, and fending off more walkers with Glenn. Maggie shoots the lock. They huddle through the door to the prison. They're out. They're safe. Herschel and Beth, they're gone. I think — I hope — they managed to escape, too.

Where did all these walkers come from? We blocked the courtyard off, didn't we?

We reach the back of the courtyard. There's my Dad. He lowers his crossbow, a walker collapsing to the ground in front of him.

"Daddy!"

"Get over here!" He shouts, using his bow to bludgeon walker about to bite into his arm. "We gotta go! Gimme 'er!"

T-Dog shoves me forward.

Dad grabs my hand, his grip turning my skin a pure white, and we're running past walkers again, approaching a big, metal door.

He unholsters his gun and — BANG — shoots the lock off.

"Come on!"

"We can't close this behind us, man!" T worries as we run into the dark corridor, walkers following after us. "What we gonna do?"

Without answering, my Dad leads around a corner, cussing under his breath as he frantically looks around for another door.

After he takes us down what feels like a hundred more corridors, he finds one. "In 'ere! Quick!"

We slip inside. He slams the door shut, taking a step back, staring at it for a moment before it starts to shudder under the weight of the walkers pawing at it on the other side. No more running. God. We've trapped ourselves in here, but at least we're safe, at least we're alive. I wasn't so sure at first, but I can feel the blood pulsing through my muscles now, my breath leaving me in short, panicked bursts.

"Shit," My Dad pants hotly, his sweaty brow glistening even in the dark. "We okay? Baby, you okay?"

"I—I'm fine," I nod shakily, the blaring alarms suddenly cutting out. "W-What happened to everyone else?"

I think I managed to help Herschel and Beth get out safe, but we got separated before I could catch up to them. 

"I'on know," He admits, "I'on know. Seemed like we all scattered, but they'll look after each other. Least we're together."

The walker's shadows twitch and warp in black shapes against the grey of the floor, their fingers curling up underneath the bottom of the door like rotten little shrimps, tickling the metal with their chipped nails. They're wild dogs clawing at a rabbits' burrow, thirsting for blood.

When T-Dog doesn't respond, the only noise in this small, dusty room the snarls from outside, Dad asks, "T, man? You okay?"

I turn to look at him, the lack of sunlight making my eyes hurt.

T-Dog is staring at his feet like there's an interesting bug crawling on his ankle, wordless, looking up at us with wide eyes.

"Oh, my God," I breathe, watching the blood pour out.

There ain't no bug on his ankle.

There's a gaping bite.

"My sister used to babysit our neighbour's dog from time to time," T-Dog chuckles to himself, sat up against the wall opposite us. His legs are kicked out lazily in front of him, his smile plump and warm, like he's relaxing on his porch. The only thing missing is a cigarette between his fingers. I'on think he realizes that me and Dad ain't fully listening, or maybe he doesn't care. "Man, he was an ugly thing."

Already, this room smells like death, and there's nothing we can do except stew in it.

The door shudders violently in the background. 

"A lil' Scottish breed, or sum. One of them dogs with the big moustache and the angry eyes. Anyway," He sighs. It's difficult to look at him, in a way that makes me feel an aching sense of guilt for averting my eyes like this, but I just have to. I can't look at his smile anymore, or at the puddle of blood, or at the bite, or even at the walls, my gaze stuck unwaveringly on my boots. "There was this one weekend. She'd just got done takin' the lil' guy for a walk, and she was on the phone with her friend, talkin' about a party. 'Course, I was eavesdroppin'."

He wheezes a laugh to himself as my Dad continues to stare emptily at him, not entertained in the slightest.

"I thought to myself, 'Girl. Our parents are gonna kill you if they find out.' She was never the bookworm type, or anythin' like that. She was a bit of a bully, mind. Used to invite me to get ice-cream with her and her friends and make fun of me the whole time-type stuff."

Shut up, I wish I could shout in his face without angering the walkers outside, It doesn't matter now. You're bit!

When I thought I'd gotten scratched back at the quarry, I spent all night thinking of things that didn't matter, so maybe I can't blame him.

"I just got so jealous," He whispers, his smile fading, a sad look in his eyes. "I'on even know what pushed me to do it, but I went into the backyard and I opened the gate. Let the dog out. I knew I'd done the wrong thing when I saw the look on 'er face. I even went with her when she was puttin' up missin' posters all over our neighbourhood, shoutin' his name. Pepper, pepper. We ain't never found him."

"Don't you just sound like a pair'a angels," My Dad dares to joke.

He laughs. "That's what Grimes said."

That was back on the farm, when T was tryna make me feel better 'bout my fight with Carl by telling me a story 'bout his sisters stealing from him. He's always had the most ridiculous stories that make us all laugh, and he would let us, even if it was at his expense.

If I were to think about useless things, too, I'd think of him nicknaming me and Carl, little nerds, him sharing his pretzels with me while I was unwell, how he went with Rick and Dad to save me from Shane, those stupid shirts we got him and Glenn for Christmas.

"Well, ya know what they say about great minds," Dad mutters non-committedly, before there's another thud on the door.

"Daddy?"

"Hm?" He grunts, leaning toward me.

Into the shell of his ear, I shyly whisper, knowing he can't do nothin' about it, "I'on wanna be in here, no more. I wanna leave. Please."

"I know, chicken. I know," He soothes, putting his arm around my shoulders, cradling my head against his side. "M'sorry."

T-Dog asks, "What'd she say?"

"She don't like it in 'ere."

"Well, I'm sorry, too. I'm gonna die," He chuckles incredulously, his belly shuddering. "And all I can think about is that damn dog."

"How you feelin', man?"

"Like ten pounds of shit in a five-pound sack," T-Dog slurs, his head lolled onto his shoulder. "Thanks for askin'."

It's been hours since we trapped ourselves in this room. I can tell, not only because of the way my stomach has begun to roil with hunger and my mouth has gone dry like two pieces of sandpaper rubbing against each other, but because of poor T-Dog. His bald head is slathered in sweat, the droplets sliding down his face as if he's sitting under a showerhead, but I know it's the work of the germs inside his body.

Dad, Merle, and I saw this hitch-hiker get bitten back in the beginning, while we were staying with this group of people whose supplies we ended up stealing. They was the types to pick up needy travellers on the side of the road, even if they'd just been bitten.

Merle wanted to kill the guy when he found out, but it only took half a day for the bite on the man's leg to do it for him.

"I think we gotta start thinkin' about—," My Dad cuts himself off, before muttering, "What we gon' do."

"We wait here until somebody finds us," T-Dog insists, repeating the plan they had came up with hours ago. The walkers won't leave us alone with him bleeding all over the floor the way he is, and to go out there would be suicide. "It can't be much longer, now."

"I'm—," Dad sighs. "I ain't talkin' about the walkers, T. You know I ain't."

He nods his head in jerky movements.

"I-I know," He says.

"I'on think they're gonna find us before it matters." His way of saying, Before you turn. "I— I can't have you in here with Harley."

When T-Dog doesn't have anything to say in reply, Dad forces himself to continue. "So... I got a bullet or a bolt. That's where we're at."

"No." He adjusts himself against the wall, lifting his head to look him in the eye. "I don't want you to."

"I know," He placates. "I'm sor—"

"I'mma do it myself," He says matter-of-factly. "I'm a man of God. It might be a sin to take myself out, but I'll be damned if I fought this hard and got this far, only to let another man kill me. Even if he's my brother. So, I'm doin' this on my own terms. It has to be me."

Stomaching his words, my Dad slowly nods to himself, before he sends me a sympathetic look.

T-Dog bides his time for a couple more hours by telling us what must be every story he has, but it's after he throws up into the corner of the room that it becomes obvious to us that we just can't afford to wait any longer for the group to find us.

"We ain't gonna be sappy about this," T-Dog warns us as he sits back down, wiping his mouth.

"C'mon. You're one'a the sappiest bastards I know," Dad deadpans. "And I know a lotta sappy bastards."

"I guess I just always wanted to go out in a blaze of glory, if I had to."

"You don't want yer last moments to be with us?"

Coughing up a laugh, T-Dog jokes, "I didn't say that."

I almost want to ask him to wait just one more minute — That's not a long time. He could do it — and after that minute passes, I'd ask him again. I know it wouldn't save his life if the group found us right now, but I wouldn't be asking for them, or even for him. I'd be asking for myself. Selfishly, I want just one more minute with him. What if—? What if he didn't get any sicker? What if he turns out fine?

It's a question only a fool would ask, and I know all I can do now is appreciate all the thousands of minutes he had before this.

"Okay," He sighs, reaching behind him, pulling out his gun and resting it in his lap, staring down at it. "This is it."

It ain't how my Momma did it, but it's just as awful.

"We could still wait," My Dad suggests, giving him an out I know he won't take. "If they find us, they find us. If they don't—..."

"You heard me, man. Blaze of glory." He looks up at us, his sweaty fingers gently curled around the gun. For the first time since the door closed, he meets my gaze, but he just looks tired, like he could use a long, peaceful sleep. "This is gonna be hard. I'm sorry."

I watched Shane die in front of me, watched him bleed much the same way. At least this time, I'll get the chance to close my eyes.

"You're a tough girl," He gulps. "You been through more shit than most."

"Thought'chu said we wasn't gonna be sappy," I complain, just to get him to stop.

"The first time I saw you, I just knew you were gonna be a lil' terror." He continues, anyway. "Dale, too. Said he knew you'd make it."

Dale always did say the darndest things. The only reason I've made it this far is because of other people. I ain't no clueless airhead can't skin no animal or kill no walker, but my beatin' heart can be accredited to a small group of people, one that includes T-Dog. There's been countless times where I should'a died and didn't, and this is one of them times that somebody else shouldn't be dying, but is.

I ain't special. Just because I ain't died yet don't mean everybody else can't still be alive, too. My Dad says, Ain't no such thing as good or bad luck. Just strong people, but T-Dog ain't weak and there is such a thing as bad luck.

"I thought you would, too," I tell him, hoping it's some sorta comfort.

"C'mere," Dad mumbles, helping me climb into his lap and rubbing his big hand between my shoulder blades as I press my brow to his neck, squeezing my eyes shut. He takes out my hearing aids, and after that, I don't open my eyes for the next few hours.

Like this, I can pretend it didn't happen.

But I can still smell the gunpowder in the air.

"Hush little baby, don't say a word," My Dad's voice rasps quietly in my ear, "Daddy's gonna buy you a mockingbird."

I've never wanted to leave a room more than I want to leave this one in my entire life. If I could, I think I'd claw my way out.

"And if that mockingbird don't sing, Daddy's gonna buy you a diamond ring."

The singing helps. It don't make the smell any more bearable, but it helps.

"And if that diamond ring turns brass, Daddy's gonna buy you a looking glass."

One more minute, I tell myself just like I wanted to tell T-Dog, one more minute, and then another after that. The others have an entire prison to search for us in, with twists and turns every few feet, dust in the air and walkers lining the corridors, and I can't even guarantee they ain't already dealing with the deaths of any of our other people, but I know they'll refuse to stop until they find us.

I keep replaying the scene of the courtyard in my head, remembering everyone who I saw made it out.

"And if that looking glass gets broke," He sings, "Daddy's gonna buy you a billy goat."

Sometime later, I realize I've managed to block out the sound of the incessant groaning because there's suddenly another noise amongst it all — A grunt too pronounced to come from a walker, then a squelch and a dull thud, like a sack of flour dropping to the floor.

Lifting my head from Dad's shoulder, I look at the door as the groaning becomes lesser and lesser until it disappears.

"They're here. They're here," I say in shock, climbing off Dad's lap just as the door is opened.

"Holy shit," Glenn exclaims as Maggie wraps her arms around me, returning my brutal hug. "You're here."

"We drew them away," She says, pressing a kiss to my cheek. "Oh, I can't believe it. We searched everywhere for y'all."

It's when she pulls away that I make the mistake of following her and Glenn's gazes into the corner of the room, where T lay exactly where I last saw him, the only difference being that his brains are now plastered against the wall in the shape of a flower.

"Don't look," Dad gently scolds me, turning me back around so I'm facing the door.

She stares at the carnage, her lips slightly parted without knowing what to say, before she has to look away, too. "What happened?"

"He got bit," Dad mutters. It's impossible to recount what we just went through in any poetic way, and the rest, they can guess.

"Horrible," She croaks.

"We can come back for him later," Glenn struggles to say, urging all of us outta the room. "Let's get you two back to the cell block."

"Is everyone okay?" I ask him desperately.

As the door closes on T-Dog, Glenn gazes down at me, his face just as exhausted-looking as Dad's, but with a slight glint in his eyes.

"Everyone's okay," He manages to smile, glancing at Maggie before he adds, "Even the new baby."

I look up at my Dad, his shock mirroring mine. "Lori had her baby?"

And that right there is good luck.

Glenn steps over a body. "Come on."

Author's Note.

In exchange for T-Dog's especially intense death, Lori lives.

I went over SO many iterations for this chapter after receiving a comment suggesting I consider letting Lori and T-Dog live, and honestly, this version was the most suitable one. I decided the other versions were either just too indulgent or didn't fit with the story, but I liked them, too 😭

Thank you to ermynee, because without them/you, Lori would also be dead right now!

I hated doing that to T-Dog, but I thought it would make for an interesting non-canon scene and wanted to balance out the fact that Lori lives. You'll see also that Carol doesn't get lost, so the whole 'getting stuck and being found' situation was given to these guys instead. RIP T-Dog.

Thank you for reading. Always appreciate you! 💙

@poetoflawed

[marbleboa]

HELLO CASPER i'm here to haunt you with your past (no pressure if you don't want this haunting). but for the director's commentary... this little scene from ACD haunts me to this day:

“Anything happens, wake me up.” Tardif says, trying to arrange the two of them comfortably despite the cramped space of the bed. Damian nods, his own body filling the spaces the other man leaves. His voice comes out with just enough energy in it to be audible.

“You’re…a good man, Tardif.”

At first Tardif has to suppress a snort, but as the other man solemnly stares back the genuineness of Damian’s words hits him with an almost painful force. He says nothing, reasoning to himself that the flagellant’s state of mind must still be detached from reality for him to say something as laughable as that.

[fic commentary meme]

HOOO BOY HOO BOY alright. Had to reread a to get back in the ACD brain but I'll do my best >:D

Rereading this part of the chapter, I feel like I wanted to show two things: Tardif managing to set aside his pride and self-isolating tendencies for Damian's sake, and Damian accepting that in kind.

This part in particular reflects the latter: everything has changed for Damian, the faith that's kept him alive has been shaken in a way it's never been before. Tardif is the only constant he has left to hold onto: a self-proclaimed selfish man Damian's previously scorned and rejected. But he still brought Damian into the closest thing to home he has, tries to take care of him even when he's lived so much of his life hurting people. Tardif still can't reconcile this in himself, but...actions speak more than words. And Damian can't help but acknowledge that.

Despite the circumstances surrounding it, I also did just love the visual of these two bulky tough guys squished together in a tiny bed. I think Tardif ends up becoming a jetpack(gotta hold onto Damian so he doesn't get taken by the Horrors).

Admittedly, it's scenes like this in the most recent chapters I get conflicted on. It's satisfying to finally have some of these walls fall down--but sometimes I feel I softened the edges that made these two initially appealing a bit tooooo much to fit a romantic narrative. But, then again, this is all after nearly 20 chapters of buildup, soooo...hopefully it feels earned? Either way, I'm happy to hear it's a scene that stuck with you. :]

[possiblylando]

Chainsaw Man Chapter 150 "Early" Analysis

Hoo boy what a chapter how are we all doing cause Fujimoto came out fucking swinging this chapter. Before that I should give some context as to my day caused I went to bed at like 4am then woke up at 8:30am didn't go back to sleep because I had classes so I read this entire chapter in kind of a haze. So all the Tricks Fujimoto was playing were catching me. Like I was reading and I see that woman in the left and I have to do a double take "what the fuck is asa doing there- oh thats not asa" THEN IN THE NEXT PANEL I DIDN'T EVEN CATCH THIS UNTIL LATER DENJI IS DOING THE EXACT SAME FUCKING DOUBLE TAKE

I originally clocked this scene as being about Denji being upset about everything still being normal despite the circumstances but I don't think thats it anymore. He looks genuinely shaken and Im sure most of that is being worried about the apartment and the pets but then seeing someone who looks so much like Asa has probably genuinely rattled him more.

And this fucking page was vile Fujimoto how dare you. I thought for a moment in my sleep delusion that everything was okay and they'd gotten home and just continued to live their life despite all the shit going on because that seemed to be what was being set up with Nayuta's "They're still going about their lives despite whats going on" line.

This whole panel is very intentional and its kind of weird and still kinda sickens me a bit because its so fucking ARGH. We've known Denji isn't really happy and he hasn't been for a long time he's just been going through the motions. Being Chainsaw Man was the one thing that he still had that could bring him happiness. I know this is going to sound like an awful thing to say but the way everything has been framed upto this point especially with Nayuta on his back kind of frames her like a burden to Denji. I know its a terrible thing to say I know he loves her and cares about her and I don't know if he's even on the same wavelength but his complacency and loss of his core happiness has been due to Makima and indirectly Nayuta. I doubt Denji blames Nayuta for any of it because it isn't her fault that she's being used as a hostage. It feels like Barem has infected my fucking thought stream.

This marks Pochita's first in manga appearance in like the entirety of part 2. This whole sequence seems to be mirroring Denji and Asa since Asa/Yoru has the recurring nightmare about the dead birds and then tripping up at the most important moments.

I wasn't even really sure if this scene was real at first like if this was really their house on fire. I didn't even really register what this all meant until Barem started talking about it.

Stop lying we know its because you're afraid Asa would kick your ass.

Barem's transformation trigger being a molar is still weird. I've been trying to figure out why its a molar because hybrids usually have triggers relating to the weapon they embody. Denji pulls a chainsaw ripcord, Reze pulls the pin on a grenade, Katana Man unsheathes his sword, Ect. So the possible explanations for Barem me and my friends came up with; 1. It's wordplay a molar is a unit of measurement (a mole) which refers to the amounts of a single substance within a solution. So it could be like flamethrower fluid? 2. It's a lighter switch like that bit at the top of a lighter that makes the spark. This one is more likely and could potentially mean Barem can transform/regen without using his hands which would make him VERY dangerous. Now to the most insane part of the chapter

THIS FUCKING WOMAN NO THIS FUCKING THING THIS CREATURE KNOWN AS FUMIKO HER PLOT ARMOR IS FUCKING UNPIERCABLE. How does he escape the whip hybrid point blank when the other members all got hit and are very clearly damaged by it? Only two possible explanations which are both sickening, Fujimoto has something planned for her (Hopefully her DEATH). Worse off, She's going to survive part 2. ALSO Now unrelated to Fumiko, I guess The fucking public safety hunters are absolute dogshit are you kidding me dude?? Lets recap all these events that have taken place within at maximum a single hour (probably less than 30 minutes). 1. Denji and Nayuta go to the park 2. Hybrids attack, Quanxi dismisses them all and they're assumably put into custody 3. Fire contracts activate and Barem escapes custody 4. Yoru fights Yoshida, Yoshida flees 5. Barem runs straight to Denji's house and burns it to the ground 6. Sometime between 3 and 5 the Hybrids ESCAPE custody and make it to Denji's house in order to aid Barem. I'm choosing to blame this all on Fumiko cause she was supposed to be DOING SHIT and yet all she does is run away and do fucking nothing ever this is atrocious this woman has to go. Heres my fucking theory I established on my Death Devil post (The Yoshida Joke one) that the Horsemen on earth are all fiends of some sort, But their power likely doesn't diminish as much as normal fiends. Fumiko's purpose will be as the corpse the death devil inhabits thats why shes been given such a focus and thats why she has this fucking giorno giovanna tier plot armor ALSO IS BAREM'S FULL FUCKING NAME REALLY "Barem Bridge" IS THAT FUCKING REAL IS THIS NAME REALLY JUST FUCKING FUCKING "Burn Them Bridge" WHEN YOU SAY IT OUTLOUD IS THAT REAL?

[harryissuchalittleshit]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love

So I did six Harry Potter fics for my last one, but I’ve also written for Twilight and Percy Jackson in the past so I thought I would showcase some of my other fandom fics that I’m proud of!

Percy Jackson:

Hey Brother

This is the story of Annabeth and her second-in-command Malcolm. They have known each other for such a long time and have a very close relationship, in many ways they see each other more as actual siblings. Starting the moment they meet up to the moment when it all ends, through quests, through lasting relationships, through families made and forged in hardship, they are brother and sister.

The Homes of Leo and Calypso

This is the first ever PJO story I wrote, after HOO finished up but before TOA started and it is dated as such. I love Leo/Calypso ship and the little family I wrote for them. This is just the many ups and downs I thought they would have as they grew up and as Calypso slowly became more mortal. They move around quite a bit together and have three beautiful daughters and one mischievous little boy. I just wanted to give them a happy little ending.

Twilight:

Child’s Song

This fic got me into Twilight again, it’s basically an au in which “Bella got pregnant with Renesmee in New Moon, found the Cullens, and left her with them”. She goes on to have a life before Edward finds her and they get married and have a little boy. I hate the super fast demon pregnancy, so Renesmee and EJ are more human, tho Renesmee takes on more vampire traits as she gets older and EJ becomes more human as he grows. There’s a chapter and song for each of the four family members.

Junebug

This is the story of how Claire Young came back to La Push and fell in love with Quil Ateara after sixteen years of being separated. Claire gets to be with her family again while she falls in love with the reclusive older man, she rekindles her friendship with Renesmee, and she just gets to be a teenager while living with her Aunt Emily and Uncle Sam. She learns the Legends and her place in them. Part 3 of the Imprint Anthology.

The Angel and The One

Kim and Jared’s story in the pack, how they fell in love, how Kim learns about the imprint, how they grow up together as high school sweethearts. Kim has a lot of mental health issues, but Jared helps her heal and take care of herself. They eventually see their own happily ever after.

Also there is the story of Kati and Jay, childhood best friends that fall in love while separated because of school. They are a non-imprint imprint couple. Both of them know of the magic surrounding them, but neither of them possess it, doesn’t stop them from having a love as strong as their family members. Part 4 of the Imprint Anthology

Landslide

The Jacob/Leah story. This is probably my favorite of the bunch. Pet 5 of the Imprint Anthology, Leah is working forward from Billy’s death while Jacob is stuck back in time before his father died. Just a story about love and grieving told in alternate povs, it made me love these two as a couple and ship it even harder.

Part two is Mackenzie Black moving away to college and falling in love with someone who has no idea what they’re getting into with Mack.