#I tried to give each drawing a different expression since they��re all in the same position

[simplylupin]

𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐔𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐒 𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐔𝐒 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐀 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑

i’m sorry hahahha

The war never happened in this au

Diagon Ally was beautiful in the winter. Snow blanketing the cobble stoned roads, fairy lights strung up along the shops, twinkling in the early dawn. As a child Remus had only ever seen Diagon Ally one time of the year - in August purchasing school supplies. Now, he spent most of his time there, usually sitting on the same bench outside 'McKinnon's and Meadowes Remedies', sipping the same coffee, reading the same book. It was an unspoken routine he had had for six months now, without plan of breaking it. He found himself with nothing else to do other then go there each day, and there was no point sitting in his apartment wallowing in self pity.

A year ago, Remus Lupin had been left alone, on one knee, when Sirius Black had said no to his proposal. And everything seemed to spiral from there. He hadn't seen Sirius since he'd walked out on him, the last time he'd talked to James and Peter was almost just as long, and he felt so terribly lonely. He spent full moons alone now, they were no longer a pack. Because James was Sirius' brother and he couldn't leave him, and wherever James went Peter was close following.

He found comfort in visiting Marlene and Dorcas every day, replacing bright flowers in their shop window each morning, occasionally indulging in breakfast with them. Sometimes he even met up with Lily for a chat, who thankfully steered clear of all conversations of his friends. His old friends.

And this cold, snowy morning was nothing different, Remus sat on his bench, bundled in his favourite sweater and coat, gloved fingers grasping one of his beloved books. Marlene had practically begged him to sit indoors, but he had assured her he needed the fresh air, and that he didn't want to intrude.

Diagon Ally was more or less deserted, a calming quiet settling on the streets. All the students were at school and the shoppers still asleep in hotels. The only people up where the store owners and, well, Remus. And then a voice shattered the tranquillity.

"Bugger off Prongs, you don't know anything!"

A loud laugh followed the exclamation, but Remus hardly heard it over the ringing of his own ears. Because he would know that voice anywhere.

"Shit," he whispered under his breath, as he eyed Sirius, James, and Peter walk down the street. "Fuck, fuck shit fuck shit."

He debated retreating into the shop behind him, but that would involve standing, and he was pretty sure his legs would give way if he put any weight on them. It would also draw the attention of the three approaching men.

So instead he attempted to hide inside his own body, letting his sweater ingulf him as much as was humanely possible, holding the book right up to his face, pulling his knees into his chest and-

"Remus?"

It was James' voice.

"Fuck," he muttered once more, a little louder then he intended, squeezing his eyes shut and making no move at lowering his book.

He couldn't look at any of them.

"Moony?..."

This time it was Sirius who spoke, and Remus suddenly felt white hot flame burn through him. After a moment of silence, he forced his hands down, looking up into the grey eyes he used to love, oh so much. Now all he felt was anger and hate, and it was almost too much to even look at him.

"Don't you dare call me that," he spat, his cold, steely voice surprising himself. He glanced at James and Peter who stood there, frozen. "You all lost the privilege to call me that when you left me."

"I didn't want to," was what Sirius said when he finally seemed to find his voice again.

Remus stared at him incredulously, because that's all he could say? After rejecting his proposal after being in a relationship for five years, that's all he could say?

"I can't believe you," Remus whispered, "What is wrong with you?"

He watched Sirius' eyes gloss over, the way they flickered to James for help.

"Re, I- I'm so sorry," he said, reaching out towards Remus.

"You're a little late for the apologises," Remus hissed, flinching away from his touch.

"You don't understand Re-"

"I don't understand?!"

Remus' voice cracked as he spoke, the anger bubbling up into his throat.

"Because I think I understand perfectly," he continued, shakily standing up. "You left me, you said no to me for what ever bullshit reason you made up in your head. I loved you and you fucking destroyed it."

He was only half aware of his voice rising and his fists clenching at his sides, because now that he'd started, a year of pent up emotions were flooding out.

"You all abandoned me. I had no one, for six months I had no one! For twelve full moons I've been alone! Because you decided I wasn't good enough. I mean, really, what did I do?!"

Sirius was crying now, tears streaking down his face, and Remus assumed he was too, but he couldn't care less.

"Nothing, you didn't do anything, you didn't-" Sirius croaked, cupping a hand around his face to wipe away tears.

For a split second Remus leant into the touch, missing the way it felt to be safe.  All the anger washed out of him and all he felt was the sadness he'd tried to suppress for months. A chocked sob racked through his body, but he managed to pull away from Sirius' hold.

"Stop it. Stop pretending everything's fine," he gasped out. "It's not fine, it's not, it's not."

He fell back onto his bench, and pulled up his knees, clutching his hair viciously as if to anchor himself.

"Hey Remus, I got your usual coffee I hope that's fi-"

Dorcas stopped midsentence, staring at the scene in front of her. She took in Sirius' tear painted face, Peter and James' scared looks and Remus' panicking state, and then her face hardened into an expression that was so unlike Dorcas, it almost scared Remus.

"Rem, come on," she said coldly as she stretched out her hand towards him. "Leave, all of you," she continued, glaring at the other three men.

Remus quickly took hold of her hand, and she pulled him up, grabbing his book as she did so. She pulled him towards the store entrance, but a tug on Remus' sleeve stopped him.

"Please," Sirius practically whispered, his eyes wide and filled with sorrow.

Remus glanced behind him at Dorcas, and where Marlene was standing from inside the shop, and then back at the three other Marauders. He shook his head.

"No," was all he said before he turned his back on them and left.

could you tell i was sad whilst writing this?

[broadstflyers]

A/N: Alright, here it is! Chapter two. Thanks for the support on the first chapter! As always, you can add yourself to the tag list for this series or give constructive feedback here. This chapter is still in the past tense. This one is a longer chapter, sorry! Although I have a feeling most chapters will be this long. If you like this series and want to read more, give it a like or reblog or pop into my asks, it encourages me to continue. any feedback is appreciated :)

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: None

Summary: They say at fourteen you’re too young to know you’re in love. But what if you aren’t?

Navigation: chapter one

October

Grade: 9

Age: 14

---------------------------------

Ever since that class, you and Joel became inseparable whenever you were within talking distance. You just seemed to gravitate towards him, and he seemed to do just the same. When you needed a pep-talk before a big test, he was there. Whenever you needed a laugh, he was there. He seemed to just always be there. He even noticed when your hands started to slightly shake before a quiz or test. How would he respond? He’d do what any nice, respectful, and caring teenage boy would do: goof off. The way he did so was completely up to how rambunctious he was feeling that day.

Would he throw crumpled up paper at his friends and just smile as the teacher yelled at him?

Or try and balance the close by meter-stick on his head (that was soon taken away after)?

Or would he possibly take a different turn and re-explain a topic you were still shaky on?

He was just unpredictable in that sense.

Now how were you feeling about this newly kind Joel?

“Your face is the reddest I think I’ve ever seen it,” Luna teased while you both walked out of the classroom after the bell rang, “and if I held up my bright red backpack to it, I don’t know which one would be redder.” She was on a roll that day.

You scratched your eyebrow in a lame attempt to hide your glowing cheeks. See, on that day, Joel decided to calm your nerves by drawing a star on your hand. Yes, your hand. It went sort of like this:

Your right hand was resting on the table so the back of your hand was facing Joel, who was also on your right. He was messing around with an orange marker, threatening to draw it on his friend just a table over.

“Draw one on y/n,” the friend slyly suggested with a devilish smirk. Joel’s eyes widened to the size of hockey pucks and he whipped his head around to look at you. He glanced down at the marker and then regained his cool facial expression.

Meanwhile your blood ran cold and your head started to pound uncontrollably. You glance at Luna and she nods vigorously. You ball your hand into a fist and shakily stick it out, the adrenaline causing your hearing to slightly go. He offers a light smile, and you swear you can see him slightly exhale from relief. He positions the marker in his hand to get a good grip on it, because if he was going to draw on your hand, it had to be perfect.

He rested his hand under yours to hold it steady. Yes, his hand. He cleanly knocked the breath out of your lungs. You could feel the warmth radiate from his hand. He carefully and neatly (well as neat as a fourteen year old boy can) draws an orange star on the center of your balled up fist.

When his hand finally let go of yours, the touch felt too brief but also like forever.

You literally wanted to jump out of your skin. A mix of different colors felt as though they were swirling around your head in an intense blur. You wanted to throw up color and those sickeningly sweet feelings.

At this point, unlike the first time you guys were civil to each other, you surpassed the point of being screwed.

No. As soon as he touched your hand, you knew one thing for certain: you were in love with Joel Farabee.

“Now that’s one perfect good luck charm,” he says with a smirk.

Man, you just wanted to kiss that stupid smirk. That stupid yet adorable smirk….

And that’s how you ended up almost falling over in the hallway with Luna. In the hallway, she takes your hand and looks at the perfectly messy star.

“You’ve got that boy head over heels for you,” she sassed and laughed.

You playfully shoved her, but your heart skipped a beat.

You couldn’t help but wonder, did you really?

---------------------------------

“LOVE?” Luna practically yelled in your room. Your parents let you guys hang out after school that very same day because it was yet another Friday. Which is how you ended up with Luna screaming at you on your bedroom floor.

“SHHHHH,” you aggressively said as you tried to calm her down. You pointed downstairs to your parents. You had told them earlier that Luna drew the star on, not Joel. They didn’t even know Joel existed.

“Sorry,” she whispered, “but LOVE? You’re in love with him? Are you sure? Aren’t we too young for that? At least, that’s what my mom says.”

You sigh deeply. “Look, I know, Luna. But there’s just something so different about him. Something I can’t explain.”

“Okay, but you also haven’t liked more than two people,” Luna counters, “and we’re fourteen.”

“But have you looked into someone’s eyes before and felt safe? Have you wanted to cling onto them and never let go? You’ve got to listen to me, these feelings are so intense that I want to throw them up in a glittery mess. He runs in circles around my mind 24/7. I wonder how his hugs feel, I wonder how I would act if I met his parents.” You pause for a moment and stare her in the eyes.

“I barely understand how I feel, myself,” you whisper. “I am so screwed, Luna, but I don’t care.”

Her face relaxes and she slowly nods her head. She breaks out into a smile.

“I hear you,” she calmly states as she takes one of your hands. “I will be here with you while we figure this out, okay?”

“Okay,” you nod in a soft whisper tone.

Maybe it was the cumulation of him constantly caring for you in his own way. Maybe it was the way he never made dumb jokes at the expense of your feelings. Maybe it was the way talking to him came so easily and naturally to you, like you’ve known him for lifetimes. Or maybe it was just the fact that you were young, like Luna said.

But you knew deep down you couldn’t wholeheartedly buy into that logic.

Because in the end, you knew you were right.

---------------------------------

You turned fifteen on November 25, so you’re always exactly three months older than Joel, which he definitely did not appreciate. He found out when the teacher wished you a premature Happy Birthday the day before Thanksgiving Break.

“I cannot believe you,” he said in a mockingly defensive manner.

“Joel, I can’t exactly control when I was born you know,” you jokingly shot back. The playful banter was your favorite part of the day. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t look forward to it now.

“Well, how am I supposed to wish you a happy birthday when we won’t be in class?” He dramatically pouted.

I could give you my number, you thought. You’d never actually say that, though.

Suddenly, he turned and snatched a random piece of paper from one of his friends, and judging by the sharp “Hey!” that came out of the friend’s mouth, it probably was of some sort of importance. He grabbed your pencil and borderline slammed them down in front of you.

“Here, write down your number and all of our problems will be solved.”

Did he just? Did what you think just...happen? Fourteen year old you was absolutely dumbfounded.

“Sure,” you said as nonchalantly as possible, when in reality you were about to black out.

You scribbled down your number and handed it to him.

He opened his mouth to say something, but the bell rang, and you both scrambled for your things in the midst of chaos.

“I will be looking forward to that birthday wish,” you called out as he headed for the door. At first, you didn’t think he heard you, but at the last moment, he turned around and winked before stepping out the door.

You would have melted onto the floor if it wasn’t for Luna squealing in your ear like it was a holiday morning.

November 25 couldn’t come soon enough. Yes, you were excited to turn fifteen, but now you had another reason.

The question was, was that a good thing?

---------------------------------

November 25

Age: 15

Grade: 9

You woke up on your birthday morning with adrenaline coursing through your veins. After a fun Thanksgiving with family the day before, you were excited to finally celebrate your birthday with just your mom and dad, like you always did.

You’d be lying if you said the first thing you checked was not your phone. But, It was the first thing you reached for on your nightstand. Not your glasses, like normal.

You quickly scrolled through your notifications looking for an unknown number. There’s a text from your aunt, uncle, grandma, grandpa, cousins. Your heart sank when you reached the end. Nothing from him.

You placed your phone down and shook your head to clear out the negative energy that engulfed your body.

It was your birthday, you weren’t going to let anyone ruin this day for you. Even him.

---------------------------------

It was after dinner, which was your absolute favorite meal. You had gone to the mall with your mom and dad for some birthday shopping, a tradition you were very grateful for.

On the way home, you were happily thinking about the new outfits you were gifted, until your phone buzzed. Your heart quickened.

Luna!!: did he text you yet?

You exhaled sharply.

You: no, he hasnt :(

Thanks for the reminder, Luna.

Luna!!: bummer. i’m sure he will soon.

Luna!!: he’d be an idiot not to, don’t worry, love!

You mindlessly stared out the window of the back seat, hoping the blur of the trees would take your mind off of him.

You could sense your dad glancing at you using the rearview mirror.

You turned to look at him. “What?”

“Everything okay?” He asked.

You plaster a huge smile on your face and say yes, of course, because your parents have done so much for you that day that you should have been fluttering from happiness. You mean, you were happy. You couldn’t have been more thankful. Your heart just yearned for him to fulfill his promise.

Because you didn’t know what school was going to be like if he didn’t, and you weren’t ready to face that reality.

---------------------------------

That night, you brushed your teeth and got ready for bed. Your heart felt heavier each time you checked your phone and “No Older Notifications” was displayed instead of seeing the one you longed for. You glanced at your clock on your nightstand. The bright red numbers glared at you. It was close to 11:00.

You sighed and spun your phone around in your hands as you thought. Call it delusion, but you refused to put your phone down. You knew he was going to follow through.

Did you know why you knew? Not a clue.

Without warning, your phone vibrated in your hands. You couldn’t have flipped it upright faster if you tried.

Maybe: Joel

Maybe WHO?

Maybe: Joel: Happy birthday math partner 🥳

Maybe: Joel: This is Joel by the way, that’s probably important to add

Maybe: Joel: Although you do only have one amazing math partner

You really thought you died there for a second. They were, like, a handful of words (excluding the Joel part) but they were enough to make you hug your pillow from overload.

You spastically texted Luna.

You: JESFEUN You: HE IFHUHF You: HE TEXTED ME LUNA

She must have been waiting for this text all day, just like you. She responded right away.

Luna!!: YAYAYA WHAT DID HE SAY?

You: Happy birthday math partner with the 🥳 emoji and he forgot to say his name until the second text lmaooo

Luna!!: aww thats so cute! he sounds like he has an empty head but you go hon!!

Luna!!: now text him back idiot before you forget or he goes to bed

You: yep one sec

Your thumbs circled aimlessly around the keyboard. You wanted to say so many things. You settled on this:

You: thanks, math partner :)

You hit send on that, hesitated for a moment, then typed:

You: and yes you’re a pretty great one

You took a deep breath and pressed send. You changed his contact to “Math Partner”

You wanted to throw up, but in a good way? You sighed into your pillow. Almost as quick as you sent it, you felt another buzz.

Your hand shot out to grab your phone.

Math Partner: Hey, anytime you need a star, I’m here

You glanced down at your hand, where the orange star was just a few short days ago. It was gone. You wished it didn’t fade.

You: the orange one has already faded :(

Math Partner: Well, to make up for the late birthday wish, I can give you another one once we go back to school since we have another big test

You nodded vigorously, as if he could see that through the screen.

You: maybe in red this time? it’s my favorite color

Math Partner: Whatever you want, birthday girl

What a simp, you thought. Also, you were surprised you still had a pulse at that point. Birthday girl?

Math Partner: I have to go now, I have hockey super early tomorrow. Goodnight 😁

“Hockey?” you whispered to yourself.

You: yay, thanks :) and goodnight!!

He plays hockey? you thought. Shouldn’t you have known that?

You frantically Facetimed Luna and whisper-yelled every word you two exchanged. Luna beamed with so much happiness that you could have sworn she was getting the guy.

“This is literally the best thing EVER,” she quietly exclaimed.

You just laughed a giddy yet nervous laugh. You still had no clue what was happening, but you were ready to embrace it.

---------------------------------

January 25

Age: 15

Grade: 9

When the teacher switched around the seating charts during the year, she mostly kept you and Joel within talking distance each time. If that thing about teachers sensing when kids like each other was thought to be true, she definitely proved it to be so.

Thankfully, she kept this trend going when she switched the seats around on Joel’s birthday. She moved you guys back next to each other for the next quarter. Before, she briefly separated you guys for about two weeks (when Joel wouldn’t stop yelling to his other friend who was near him). During that time apart, you both were noticeably droopier and mopier than normal. He still joked with his friends, but you only heard his loud laugh a handful of times instead of….too many.

As for you, some kid you’ve never even talked to asked you if you were okay. The answer was of course no, but you couldn’t say that.

So when the brown haired boy sat down next to you for the first time in two weeks, it felt like the day he drew the star on your hand all over again. You wanted to reach out and hug him so he’d never leave you, much less say something, anything, but you just couldn’t still. Thankfully, he did the talking for you.

“Miss me?” he joked with his trademark smile.

“Very much so,” you said with a balance of sarcasm and lightheartedness. “Happy birthday, by the way.” You lightly shoved him, not entirely knowing where the guts to do that came from.

“Thank you, thank you. Did you get me anything?” he teased. He lightly shoved you back.

Your heart beated frantically. Your impulsivity urged you to do something you never would have a few months ago.

“Actually…” you paused for a moment. He raised his eyebrows. You reached for an orange marker and uncapped it with a pop.

“May I?”

He could hardly believe it.

“Do what?”

You playfully rolled your eyes. “Draw a star, dummy.”

“Ohhhhh,” he said as he connected the dots. He stuck out his clenched fist as he fought back a huge grin.

You couldn’t believe you were actually doing that.

You tucked your hand under his to keep it steady, just like he did with your hand a few months back. You took your time making sure each corner was connected precisely. You also didn’t want to let go of his hand, like, ever.

You finished way too soon for both your likings. You pulled away and closed the cap.

“Happy birthday, Math Partner.”

“Thanks,” he said. He had his eyes glued on the star you just drew. He didn’t even try to fight the grin that was creeping on his face.

Now you were the cause of his smile. Warmth flowed through your body. You just wanted to keep him that happy forever.

---------------------------------

That night, Luna called you on Facetime because apparently talking about those events in the hallway afterschool wasn’t enough.

“What’s up?” you calmly asked, as if you didn’t know why she was calling.

“What’s up? What do you mean what’s up? I mean, first you lightly shoved him. Yes, I saw that. But then you draw a star on him? I don’t know where this confident you came from, but I am living for it. I am so proud of you,” she sincerely said through a smile.

“Aw thank you, I appreciate it. Yeah, I don’t know either, honestly. He just brings out this good side of me now.”

“I can see that, and I love it. So...” She dragged out the “so,” and that was never a good sign.

“So?” you asked.

“What are you going to do about it?”

“About what?” You played dumb as best you could.

She didn’t buy it. “Oh come on, y/n. You know you love him, why don’t you tell him?”

You shuttered at that idea. By doing that, you risked losing what you’ve created so far. You were texting him roughly once or twice a week at that point about random stuff and talking to him in class every chance you got. Losing that was just something you were not prepared to face. And you told Luna that.

She (mostly) understood.

“I respect that,” she said. “But if you guys don’t hang out in the summer and keep this going, I will kill him.”

You snorted. “Me too, honestly.”

Could you guys keep this going for that long?

Only time would tell, you told yourself.

---------------------------------

April

Grade: 9

Age: 15

Every time you saw Joel, you came home with a pep in your step. It was like clockwork. You would bounce into the house with a grandiose “Hello Mother” and hum a song stuck in your head. Today it was “Love Story” by Taylor Swift.

“How was your day?” your mom asked with a hint of suspicion. After months of letting your intriguing happiness spell go, it was too obvious for her to ignore.

“Good,” you said. You didn’t really want to tell her much about Joel because you knew she wouldn’t believe you if you told her how you really felt about him. Those strong feelings didn’t waiver once over the last few months. Okay, maybe once on the day that he accidentally spilled water on your homework. But you couldn’t stay mad at him after he willingly placed his own homework in the same water.

“You’re very happy today. Anything happen in particular?” She prodded.

“Nope,” you pop the letter “p”.

“Who’s the boy?”

You froze. “Boy?”

“There has to be, you haven’t been this happy to go to school pretty much ever.”

You sighed. It was your mom after all. Maybe she would believe you if you told her.

“His name’s Joel, he’s in my Algebra class,” you mumbled.

“Is he nice? Is he smart? Does he play hockey?” The questions flew from left and right.

“Yes, he’s nice. He’s really sweet to me. He is way better at math than me. Yes he does,” you rattled off the answers to her bombardment.

“Excellent,” she smiled. “You like this boy?”

“Yeah, I really do. A lot actually.”

She raised an eyebrow. “A lot?”

“Yeah, honestly, I might love him.”

That confession froze the kitchen over. She paused.

“Honey, you’re too young to know that,” she tried to reason.

Your chest stung. “What if I’m not?” You questioned.

“You’re fifteen.”

“I know Mom, I know.” She opened her mouth to talk, but you said, “I have to go start homework.” You charged up the stairs and crashed on your bed.

So what if you were fifteen? You didn’t care how old you were. Call it being naive, but you were sure you knew everything when you were young.

You just had to wait for timing to fall into place to prove everyone wrong.

tagging: @teamcanadasimp :)

[beewolfwrites]

And When I am Formulated, Sprawling on a Pin - Chapter One: The Edge of a Diving Board

Hello everyone!

So I haven’t used my Tumblr account in years, but I recently binge watched Alice in Borderland not too long ago and like any sane person, I realised that it was pretty darn amazing.. and that Chishiya was hands-down one of the best characters in the show.

 So while I'm still riding the AIB wave, I decided to dig out my old Tumblr and write something! 

This is just the first chapter, and you can find it here on AO3 too. To be honest, it’s probably better on AO3 because the formatting is a little funny on here. 

I’ve written it in first person, but avoided giving the main character a name, so it can either read as a Chishiya x OC or as a reader-insert depending on how you prefer :) 

Please let me know what you think, and if you do read it, thank you!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was David Foster Wallace who put it best. The world was one big queue leading up to a diving board. You took your place in line, climbed the rankings, and once you got to the top? The end. Process over. Because that’s how life really is: breathe, work, jump off the edge. You fulfil a function and then you’re gone forever.

At least, that’s how I’d always seen it. But the Borderlands changed all of that. Suddenly I was being pushed towards the edge of the diving board when I had thought I was still in the queue.

It happened all at once. I had been in an apartment, laughing over drinks with my brother and his friends. It was our first time in Japan, and we were only visiting for a four-day summer trip. I had only been allowed to go on the premise that he was there. Looking back now, I wish we had chosen Brussels or Amsterdam.

The last time I saw my brother, he was laughing with his friends as I closed the bathroom door behind me. I had turned to the sink, taking a moment to splash cool water on my face.

And that was when the lights went out.

‘Power cut’, I muttered, fumbling around for the door handle and re-entering the living room.

The apartment was dark and cold. I was alone.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tokyo almost looked beautiful without electricity at night, like a ghost city paused in time.

‘Hey!‘ I yelled through the empty streets. ‘誰か’ Anyone?

My Japanese was limited at best, but I had to try. I had to find someone. There was no way this could’ve been a prank. A whole population doesn’t just vanish into thin air, it’s simply not possible.

‘Hey, Is anyone there?’ I tried again.

As if on cue, a light cut through the darkness. I couldn’t help but squint at the large white screen projected across a desolate building. I couldn’t read any of the kanji, but there was one word that stood out clear as day.

GAME

What is this? I asked myself.

Suddenly, the screen changed, this time sporting an arrow pointing to the right. I tried to read the hiragana, but it seemed there was no need. Another light appeared in the distance, glowing ominously over the tops of buildings.

I guess I have to go that way, I thought. Perhaps there’s some kind of big event on and everyone’s gone to watch.

I made my way to the source of the light, which turned out to be an old furniture store. In this sea of darkness, it was as if the electricity had pooled entirely into one two-storey building.

There can’t be an event in a place like this. Where is everyone?

On a wall was a smaller sign with an arrow pointing into the store.

GAME – こちらです

Hesitantly, I followed the arrow up the steps leading to the door. Inside, the hallway was fully lit. The walls were decorated with mirrors and printed canvases, their price tags and sale stickers still attached. Passing beneath an arch that led into a large room, I heard a tiny bleep. It was almost inaudible, but I knew I hadn’t imagined it.

As I peered around, looking for the source of the noise, a voice spoke.

‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you.’

I jumped, turning on my heels.

Leaning inconspicuously against a wall, a man was staring at me curiously. He was wearing a sleeveless grey top and looked to be in his thirties. He didn’t look like it, but perhaps he was the shop owner?

I stepped forward, intent on asking for help. However, I must’ve moved too quickly in my excitement, as my arm wavered, knocking a tiny vase with an artificial flower off a table.

It rolled across the ground, but before I could apologise and pick it up a neon red laser cut through the vase, leaving a singed hole in the plastic soil.

‘I told you not to do that,’ the man repeated, huffing.

I stared, wordless, at the destroyed flower. Lasers? What the hell kind of game was this?

‘Newbie, hm? This’ll be easy.’

It was a new voice this time. Another man, slightly younger, was reclining back in an armchair. I hadn’t noticed him until now as his green shirt blended into the furniture fabric.

‘A foreigner, too. How lucky,’ Green Shirt said.

My mind scrambled to piece together what Japanese it could.

‘すみません… 何がこれ？皆んながどこですか’ Excuse me, what is this? Where is everyone?

Green Shirt raised a brow, whereas the first man huffed once more.

‘It’s a game. You’ve just got to follow the rules.’ He gestured his thumb to a small side table where there were a several phones lined up. ‘You need to take one before registration closes.’

On second inspection, I noticed that they were both clasping phones tightly in their hands. Maybe this was part of the game? Approaching the table, I picked up a smart phone, finding that it sprung to life immediately with a face recognition screen.

‘FACE REGISTRATION IN PROCESS.

PLEASE WAIT FOR THE GAME TO COMMENCE’

A timer on the screen began to tick down from two minutes. Around me, I could feel the two men watching my every move. They seemed to be sussing me out, although I couldn’t figure out what for. Surely, since everyone in Tokyo disappeared, we should all band together and find others.

‘REGISTRATION CLOSED. THE GAME WILL NOW COMMENCE.’

This time, the voice came from everywhere and nowhere at once, as if through an invisible sound system. I looked around at the ceiling, trying to find the speakers, when I realised that at the back of the room all of the furniture had been moved aside to make way for a large circular table and four chairs. In the centre of the table was a stack of cards.

‘GAME – RUMMY

DIFFICULTY – FOUR OF DIAMONDS

TIME LIMIT – ONE HOUR’

Four of Diamonds?

I looked at the phone in my hand, where a picture of the aforementioned card flashed up. None of it made sense. And what did playing cards have to do with this?

The first man and Green Shirt both got up and made their way to the table at the back, leaving me no choice but to follow. They seemed to know what was going on better than I did. The three of us each took a seat, only I chose to a sit as far as possible from the other two. Judging from the deck in the middle of the table, we’d be playing a card game, and I didn’t want anybody close enough to see my hand.

The overhead voice continued.

‘RULES –

PLAYERS MUST COMPLETE A SINGLE GAME OF RUMMY.

THE OBJECTIVE IS TO CLEAR ALL CARDS FROM YOUR HAND. THE FIRST PLAYER TO CLEAR THEIR HAND IS THE WINNER.

THE DECK HAS ALREADY BEEN SHUFFLED.

PLAYERS MUST DESIGNATE ONE PERSON TO BE THE DEALER.

TURNS ARE TAKEN COUNTER-CLOCKWISE, FROM THE LEFT OF THE DEALER.

EACH PLAYER STARTS WITH SEVEN CARDS. AFTER THE CARDS HAVE BEEN DEALT, THE FIRST CARD IN THE DECK MUST BE TURNED OVER AND USED TO START A SEPARATE DISCARD PILE.

PLAYERS MUST ALWAYS DRAW ONE CARD FROM THE PILE, AND DISCARD ONE CARD PER TURN.

PLAYERS MAY PICK UP A CARD FROM THE DISCARD PILE, HOWEVER YOU CANNOT DISCARD THE SAME CARD IN THAT TURN.

PLAYERS MUST CREATE SEQUENCES OF THREE TO FOUR CARDS ARRANGED BY EITHER NUMBER OR SUITE. IF A SET OF THREE OR MORE CARDS IS CREATED, THE PLAYER MAY CHOOSE TO LAY IT DOWN IN FRONT OF THEM.

PLAYERS CAN ADD TO OTHERS’ SEQUENCES PROVIDED THEY HAVE BEEN LAID DOWN ON THE TABLE.

ACE MAY ONLY COUNT AS ONE.

JOKERS CAN BE USED IN PLACE OF ANY CARD.

CLEAR CONDITION – BE THE WINNER.’

Okay, I thought, mulling it over. Okay…

I hadn’t understood most of what the voice had said, but I could pick up enough that I figured it was just a game of standard Rummy. I had never played the game before, and I only knew of it through John Steinbeck’s characters. But I had played something similar, a card-melding game that my parents had taught me when I was a small child. I’d played it countless times, and I knew it like the back of my hand. Sure enough, these rules were slightly different, but it was still a card-melding game, all the same.

I looked up at the two men opposite me. They appeared confused, despite their attempts to hide it. Green Shirt gazed at me curiously, then smirked.

Oh…

‘A foreigner, too? How lucky.’

His previous words rang in my memory. Judging by the way the two men were looking at me, they were both counting on my inability to understand the rules. They were assuming I had no idea how to play, or even what rules were just read out. And yet, the brief glimpses of confusion in their expressions told me everything: they had never played a card-melding game before.

So they’ve already decided that they have the advantage?

I tried not to smile.

‘Do you know how to play?’ the first man asked me.

I paused, considering how I should answer. I didn’t know exactly what the stakes were, but judging by the laser I had just seen, losing the game couldn’t be good. In any case, I decided to keep my cards close to my chest.

‘このガームは知らない.’ I’ve never heard of this game before.

I was aware that my Japanese probably sounded like it came straight from a textbook, but in this situation, I couldn’t care less.

The first man nodded. He looked at Green Shirt, and said, ‘I’ll be the dealer then, if that’s okay?’

Green Shirt just shrugged and sat back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. ‘Hurry up then. The clock’s ticking.’

Sure enough, my phone displayed a timer which read 57 minutes. I didn’t want to find out what happened if we didn’t have a clear winner by the time it hit zero.

The first man picked up the deck, dishing out seven cards each before returning the stack to the centre. He took the first card and turned it over on the table, beginning the discard pile. Picking up a card from the deck, the first man began his turn.

I didn’t pay attention to what he was doing, as I needed to focus on the cards currently in my hand.

King of Spades

Three of Hearts

King of Diamonds

Five of Clubs

Ace of Hearts

Nine of Diamonds

Eight of Clubs

It wasn’t bad. Or at least, it could’ve been a lot worse. The two kings stuck out immediately as a potential meld. I could certainly build around them. However, another thought came to mind. If Rummy was anything like the game I had learned as a child, it meant that players could add to each other’s melds once they were on the table. In that case, I would have to avoid creating sets of consecutive numbers within the same suite, as a three-card combination in this kind of meld would leave two openings for the others to get rid of their cards, rather than just the one.

Glancing up, I noticed it was Green Shirt’s turn, promptly ended as he threw an Ace of Spades into the discard pile.

That meant it was my turn next.

I eyed the Ace he just discarded and remembered hearing the overhead voice say something about Aces. But there was no time to think about it; the other two were watching me closely and waiting for me to pick up a card.

I reached out to the deck.

Seven of Diamonds.

Technically I could’ve used it in conjunction with my nine, but it was too risky. I didn’t have time to wait around in hopes of picking up an Eight of Diamonds. Plus, I’d already decided against consecutive sets.

I tossed it into the discard pile.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The game continued for longer than I would’ve liked it to. The clock was ticking, ticking, ticking, and now read 17 minutes.

So far, my hand had started to come together.

King of Spades

King of Diamonds

King of Hearts

Nine of Diamonds

Nine of Spades

Five of Clubs

Ace of Hearts

I could’ve laid down my kings on the table. But there was only three cards in the meld, meaning one of the others could add the remaining king from their own hand. Across from me, neither of the other two had laid down any cards, and until they did, I couldn’t add anything to their melds either.

Green Shirt then took his turn and picked up a card. He glanced once at me, then threw a Nine of Diamonds onto the discard pile.

I must’ve regarded it a second too long because Green Shirt then spoke up.

‘You’re collecting Diamonds, aren’t you?’

I tried not to smile.

‘どうして知っているのですか’ I asked, playing along. How did you know that?

‘Because you always stare at the cards whenever I discard a Diamonds one.’

He must’ve gotten the wrong end of the stick, because whenever he discarded a Diamonds card, my heart sank. The last thing I needed was a Diamonds card.

‘I’ll try and keep a poker face from now on,’ I muttered.

Green Shirt frowned in response and checked the timer on his phone.

Nine minutes.

Nine minutes until game over.

That’s 540 seconds I had to land a good card.

Come on, I thought. Please be a nine. Please be a nine.

I picked up a card from the deck. It was a Two of Spades. I discarded it immediately.

In the back of my mind, I was starting to panic. Judging by this whole setup, we were playing for our lives. After all, what kind of game would have an invisible barrier that kills those who try to back out?

The first man threw away a Six of Clubs. Green Shirt stared at it and scowled. He must’ve been looking for extra cards to add to his meld on the table.  

By now, the two men were starting to become antsy. The first man kept scratching his eyebrow, whereas Green Shirt kept dragging his nails on the table in impatience.

He picked up a card from the deck, then grinned from ear to ear. He proudly lay down a consecutive suite consisting of the Seven and Six of Clubs and a Joker used to represent a five.  

Carelessly, he tossed down a Nine of Clubs.

My heart jumped, and adrenaline shot through me.

He still thinks I’m collecting Diamonds. That’s why he tossed it.

My hand shot out and snatched up the card from the pile before Green Shirt could figure out his mistake. And figure it out, he did, because his eyes widened slightly.

I looked at him squarely.

‘I have something to confess,’ I said in English. ‘I lied. I’m not collecting Diamonds.’

Green Shirt’s smile dropped. He didn’t understand, but he would soon enough. The thing about Jokers is that they’re always a double-edged sword.

Laying down my new trio of nines, I reached over to Green Shirt’s meld and inserted my Five of Clubs, swiping his Joker for myself.

He made a noise of protest, whereas the first man watched on with disbelief, as if hoping that his intuition was wrong.

I added the Joker to my two Kings, creating a new meld which I down on the table.

Their faces told all. They had no idea that Jokers could be swapped. Even though I hadn’t understood the rules outlined at the beginning, it was evident that this was a rule that hadn’t been mentioned.

Watching them shake their heads, wide eyed… it was like watching a penny drop.

‘ごめんなさい,’ I said.

I’m sorry.

I threw the Ace of Hearts onto the discard pile.

The two men shot out of their seats, yelling frantically. I tried to tear my eyes away, but couldn’t, as two lasers pierced through the ceiling and struck them where they stood.

The two bodies crumpled to the ground, and all was still.

‘GAME CLEAR – CONGRATULATIONS!’

I don’t know how long I remained seated in my chair, but I felt that if I moved, I would collapse too. Swallowing, I took two fingers and pressed them to my jugular, feeling for my pulse.

I had won. I was still alive.

I was still here.

The phone on the table beside me flashed with a message. According to this game, I had a four-day visa, whatever that meant.

It didn’t matter though, all I needed right now was to sleep.

Rising unsteadily, I cautiously approached the where the invisible barrier had been. For all I knew it was a one-way system, and I didn’t want to make a stupid mistake after all my effort in the Rummy game. So, as a test, I picked up a tiny vase and threw it across the entrance.

Nothing.

It was like the lasers had just disappeared altogether.

Tentatively reaching my fingers through, I deemed it safe, and made my way back down the hall to the store entrance. I didn’t know where to go, or how to live in a world like this, but if books and movies had taught me anything, I needed to make some kind of camp, perhaps even head to a food store to collect some supplies –

I stopped.

On a small side table near the entrance doors, a card lay facing up. The Four of Diamonds. The same Four of Diamonds that had flashed on the screen on my phone. The game’s difficulty.

But when did it get here? Perhaps someone had come by whilst I was still playing.

Shrugging, I pocketed it and stepped outside into the ghostly darkness of Tokyo. Behind me, the electricity in the furniture store shut off completely.

Whatever kind of games these were, I had a feeling they were only just getting started.

[hatterstan-shameblog]

Here is the first one

Second :D

And last..he's looking at you 👀💦

ALRIGHT you know WHAT—

There’s…a lot going on here. So much so, that I have decided to create

CONTEXT

for these three images that is

COMPLETELY FAKE

because I think it’ll be a fun writing exercise. kind of a cringe move on my part, but consider: i have fun making up ridiculous lies about characters who don’t exist in real life.

(which is how I’m treating these, by the way. yes, they are pictures of kaneko nobuaki, but for my purposes, they are NOT actually him. they are distinct fictional characters who are not real.)

so if you’re feeling adventurous skip below the cut and watch me break it down:

Image 1: Accidental “Date” Makes Cousin’s Wedding Less Terrible Than Originally Expected

The year is 1999. Your cousin (who you are not particularly close to) is getting married…on a cruise ship. Your mother insists you attend. You insist upon spending 90% of your time sipping margaritas on the deck and flipping through the latest issue of Marie Claire while trying desperately not to think about the fact that you are surrounded by nothing but open ocean.

One of the (very drunk) bridesmaids tries to toss you a beach ball because you have been, and I quote: like, a total bummer this whole time. She misses. It hits the person next to you in the face. Great. Awesome. You think: well now who’s being, like, a total bummer?

Luckily the person who got hit in the face laughs the entire thing off. He says your friends seem…’lively.’ You say that’s pretty rich coming from a guy who looks like a rejected member of ‘The Clash.’ He insists that he left them, not the other way around.

You slip into conversation. You tell him that you’re here for a wedding. He offers his condolences. You accept them. He says he actually likes weddings—something about two people making a life-changing commitment speaks to him on a soul-level. That and the open bar, of course.

You suggest he crash the wedding. He says he’s not sure if he can make it—there’s a shuffleboard tournament that evening that he would just hate to miss, plus the latest issue of Soap Opera Digest is waiting on his bedside table just begging to be opened. You say that’s perfectly understandable, but, if he suddenly finds himself caught up on the latest All My Children gossip, he can meet you back here at four.

Surprise, surprise: he shows up. He’s wearing the same shirt he was before, but buttoned up this time—and with one of the most hideous neckties you’ve ever seen, which he apparently borrowed from the kind old man next door. Instead of complimenting his attire (because it is truly un-compliment-able), you take the opportunity to mention that this is a Titanic-themed wedding. He says that having a Titanic-themed wedding on a cruise ship is “kind of fucked up” and you solemnly agree.

Everyone is very surprised and pleased to see that you’ve brought a date—even the bride, who tells you that you’re “just like Jack and Rose.” You agree, much to her delight…until you say that, if the ship goes down, you also won’t share the door and let him freeze to death in the icy water. He insists he’d be the guy who jumps off the ship and hits his leg on the propellor—that’s his favorite part of the whole movie, and it’d be an honor to re-enact the scene.

The wedding is…a wedding. Vows, toasts, pictures—and you’re sipping champagne through the entire thing. The two of you spend the evening getting completely wasted and telling everyone a different story about just who your ‘mystery date’ is. Highlights include: the captain’s unruly son whose been tasked with following in his father’s sea-faring footsteps; professional cave-diver who discovered a new species of slug and is spending his reward money on a nice vacation; head of marketing who gives all those clever names to the nail polishes at OPI; the guy who folds everyone’s towels into animal shapes.

You end up where you started: on neighboring lounge chairs, with a margarita, and talking to this stranger who has recently crossed into “acquaintance” territory. You chat about how “My Heart Will Go On” is actually a good song, and he promises not to tell anyone that you said that. He also says that this is the best Titanic-themed cruise ship wedding he’s ever been to, and he can’t wait until somebody decides to do Jaws.

Eventually, you both stagger back to your rooms with promises of seeing each other at breakfast. Unfortunately, you have the worst hangover of your life the next morning and even the thought of ‘breakfast’ makes you want to roll over and die, so you don’t manage to stumble out of bed until it’s time to disembark.

You see him at port, and you each offer each other a little wave before going your separate ways. Six weeks later, you get a Polaroid of the two of you together, sitting at the bar and laughing at something that must have been very, very hilarious.

You don’t remember most of what happened that night, but you remember it was not as terrible as it could have been.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Image 2: Extremely Weird Guy On The Street Has You Questioning Your Sanity

It’s 6:00 in the morning—a truly terrible time to be awake, but a necessary evil. Your flight leaves at 10, and since it’s an international thing, you want to make sure you get there in plenty of time to get to your gate (and maybe sample all the fancy perfumes you can’t afford at one of those high-end stores that are always in airports.)

The streets are mostly empty, save for a few random pedestrians and a handful of passed-out salarymen snoozing on the curb. The sky a rainy gray-blue as the sun tries to rise behind the springtime cloud cover—it’s no doubt going to be another dismal day, as is common during this time of year. Hopefully there’s not too much turbulence on your flight…

You stop at a crosswalk, waiting for the little walking man signal to show up on the light across the way. You’re soon joined by another person—a man in a soft-looking jacket who supplies you with a small “good morning” bob of his head. You respond in kind, throwing in a small smile for good measure. It’s nice that he too understands that it’s entirely too early to be having any kind of conversation, even if it is just a simple verbal greeting between strangers on a street corner.

The light changes, and you both begin your trek across the street. Your fellow walker is faster than you—or, more likely, has longer legs and, ergo, a longer stride than your own—and is nearly halfway across by the time you get your wheeled suitcase over the curb. He seems decent enough. You hope he’s going somewhere nice.

It’s then that you make the mistake of looking up. It would have been much better if you had just continued watching the white painted lines on the road and thinking about how it reminds you of piano keys—and how you hated the six months of piano lessons your parents forced you to take in the first grade.

But no. You noticed someone walking towards you, and you just had to look up.

The first thing you notice is a rainbow tie-dye shirt. The second thing you notice is that the rainbow tie-dye shirt is on a very cheerful looking gentleman, who seemed to be bobbing his head in time with a song only he could hear.

The third thing you notice—and this one’s the real kicker—is the large blue-and-green reptile sitting on his shoulder. It’s bulging eyes are hooded in pleasure as it’s red-pink tongue darts out to eat the green something—maybe a grape or a small piece of melon?—from the rainbow tie-dye man’s hand. It is nothing short of a spectacle, honestly, and you feel a piece of your sanity evaporate.

The rainbow tie-dye man continues on, uncaring of your confused stare at his strange pet. You even turn around to make sure that you weren’t somehow hallucinating, and sure enough, there is definitely some kind of creature draped over this stranger’s shoulder. It’s tail even sways in time with the man’s steps, which is both cute and confusing.

Because it would not do to stand in the middle of the street all day, considering the existence of rainbow tie-dye man and his exotic pet, you do the only thing you can do: turn back around and continue on your journey. You need a coffee. Maybe with an extra shot of espresso, after witnessing whatever the hell that was. Something to set you right again.

“Was that…?”

The other man—the soft-coat long-stride one—is speaking low enough as to not draw attention, but loud enough for you to hear as you make your way towards the sidewalk. His expression reads ‘concerned, but trying not to show it’ which you suppose is the polite and mature way of handling the situation.

“…an iguana? Yeah,” you answer him, “I saw it too.”

The man’s brow furrows. His mouth puckers into a small frown as he considers…well, something.

“…Okay, then,” he concludes, shrugging his shoulders, “Hell of a way to start the day.”

“Yeah.”

And you both continue on your way. He turns left at the next intersection, you turn right—but even though your paths may now be different, you will forever share an unbreakable bond over the fantastical sight you’ve witnessed today.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Image 3: Near Death Experience At Open Mic Night

You are not a poet.

Well, not professionally, anyways. You’ve been known to dabble in the written word, often scribbling little snippets of rhyme in a notebook over your lunch break or tapping a verse or two into the notes app on your phone. It a kind of outlet, you suppose—a way to keep the creative energy that bubbles inside of you from boiling over.

It’s also worth mentioning that you are not a confident public speaker. Not since that unfortunate incident in the third grade where you forgot the single line you had in the school play and ran off stage, tears streaming down your face and—actually, no, you’re not going to think about that right now. Or ever again, hopefully.

So when your (tipsy) coworkers decide that it’s a good idea to push you onto the stage at the local dive bar’s open mic night—while shouting at you to “read the one about the night-blooming jasmine”—you freeze up. There are at least seven strangers staring at you, expectation rising with every passing second of your inaction. It’s nerve-wracking in the way that the third-grade incident was not, and you gulp against the nervousness that rises in your throat.

Shaking hands scroll frantically through your phone, looking for the requested poem—and after a few agonizing moments, you manage to find it. Your voice cracks rather embarrassingly as you begin to read, trying your damndest to get the words out right so you can slink back to the bar and drown the rest of the night in Chardonnay.

Everything is going well—or, at least, as well as can be expected—until you notice that the room is suddenly feeling very hot. That’s the last coherent thought you have before the room goes dark and everything falls silent.

Next thing you know, you’re staring at the ceiling. A man who you do not know is leaning over you, and his mouth is moving—oh, he’s probably trying to say something to you, but it’s very difficult to tell what he’s saying over the throbbing pain in the back of your head.

You ask him if you’re dead. It’s a possibility after all, that you’ve somehow died and landed yourself in some kind of special public-speaking hell. That’s what this feels like, anyways.

The man says no, you are not dead. You say ‘dammit’ in response. He tries to hold back laughter, offering to help you up by extending his hand. You take it and—ouch, ugh, ew, going from laying to standing is not a fun experience.

You thank him (albeit awkwardly) for helping you up, and he insists that ‘it’s cool.’ Passing out in front of an audience is not even remotely cool, but you nod and thank him again, anyways.

Before you’re able to converse with the helpful stranger any further, your coworkers have come to collect you. You are whisked away by someone from accounting, who offers to escort you home—an offer you gladly accept, very excited to leave the site of your failure behind you.

Safe to say, you never go back to that particular bar again.

[wanna-do-bad-things]

Expecting.

Summary: Tired of dating for nothing, Henry laid everything out for her on that very first date. But when he gets everything he hoped for, there’s one thing left that he really wants.

Word count: 1683

Warnings: trying to get pregnant (no heartbreak tho, it just takes a lil time), fluffy baby daddy Henry

A/N: this was for @henrythickcavill, requested via my patreon. 

Forever tag list:  @luclittlepond |  @fcgrizi  | @henrythickcavill  |  @mitzwinchester  |  @mary-ann84 | @hell1129-blog  | @pensieve-foryour-thoughts  |  @agniavateira  |  @dancingwendigo  |  @living-in-the-darkness | @trippedmetaldetector |  @watermeloncavill  |   @justaboringadult   |   @madbaddic7ed   |   @ruthoakenshield  |  @omgkatinka   |   @iloveyouyen   |   @spursondele    |

________

Henry has been on cloud nine ever since she told him she was pregnant. Tired and mentally exhausted trying to find the right person, Henry had all but given up. It’s not that he was actively looking for a girlfriend, or wife in his case, but he did hope that when the right person came along, he’d just know. He’d feel it in his bones. He didn’t think it would happen like it does in the movies, where everything aligns, everything tastes better, music sounds better and he can breathe like he’s never breathed before. But he thought he’d feel something different.

She didn’t breeze into his life. She didn’t make him understand now why everything else hadn’t worked out. But what she did do was make him wonder how the hell he’d managed to feel so complete before when he felt bursting at the seams when he was around her. He’d laid it all on the table on their first date.

“I know this is a little full on, but I’m going to be honest with you. I can’t keep doing meaningless dates. If you’re not looking for something serious, something long term and possibly the end goal, then this date isn’t going to go far. You can leave, I’ll still pay for the bill, but I won’t hold it against you. I understand not everyone will be on the same page.”

Instead of pushing her chair back, grabbing her coat and bag and walking out of the restaurant, she pulled her chair a little closer, poured them both a drink and said, “so what colour theme are we having at the wedding and how many children are we having?”

She took an open interest in what he had to say, she challenged him on a few of his viewpoints just for a good conversation piece. They shared many of the same opinions and differed on a handful but nothing deal breaking or something that neither could get past. Henry understood that not everyone was the same and listening to her speak was amazing. He adored that they were on the same page when it came to values and their life.

As the weeks and months went on, he tried to trip her up. Tried to catch her out and see if she was just spoon feeding him everything he wanted to hear but no, it continued to flow almost perfectly. Henry took her on several vacations per year, she joined him on set, rode him when he needed his stress relieving and helped him with his lines. She was by no means a good actress, but she would try to put her feelings into it, try to give the script some sort of justice and helped Henry when he needed it.

They married three years later, with her joking that Henry would rush her down the aisle just so he could get straight to the baby making part of marriage. But it didn’t happen as quickly as either of them hoped. She came off her birth control and though they’d lose themselves within the sheets (or on the counter tops, table, against the hallway wall, the sofa, his gaming chair…just anywhere which could hold their weight,) as often as possible without wanting to take the fun out of sex and just have it for the sake of having a baby, pregnancy just wasn’t as easy to happen as they’d thought.

A year and half into their marriage, she’d began to draw up schedules, bought thermometers to check her temperature and downloaded several “trying to get pregnant” apps. She tracked her cycles, found the optimum times for having sex and had started to pitch it all to Henry when she realised she was two weeks late.

He’d sat there before her, waiting for her to reach the main part of her big presentation of why looking at their baby making schedule would be most effective when he’d watched the blood drain from her face and her scramble out of the room, roughly slamming the bathroom door closed and lock it before he’d been able to fully understand what had just happened. He’d heard things dropping onto the floor, things being torn open and as he’d stood nervously on the other side of the bathroom door, his hand on the wooden surface, listening carefully for anything which could give him an idea of what had happened, he’d finally heard the little sob that came from her.

“Are you ok?” He’d asked softly, not wanting to refer to her by any pet names, instead addressing her by her name. She hadn’t replied for a moment or two, just the sound of her soft cries filling the room in which he couldn’t access until she’d finally slid the lock open and he found her sitting on the floor, surrounded by torn open pregnancy test boxes and four tests sitting in front of her, letters boasting PREGNANT 4+ WEEKS on each of them.

Henry hadn’t wanted to go too crazy. He’d wanted this for too long and didn’t want to curse anything by purchasing anything too early. He’d gripped her hand, their fingers locked together, tears falling from his eyes as he’d pressed their hands to his lips as his eyes had remained fixated on the screen during her scan, watching as their two babies wriggled around for them. Watching as their tiny limbs stretched out and they flipped themselves around in their little bubble of comfort.

With each passing week, Henry ensured that he took care of any of the big jobs, needing her to take it as easily as possible. She hadn’t wanted to completely give up their workouts, and he’d make sure that he was there to observe each one, with a personalised plan specifically for pregnancy. They scoured the websites for the perfect nursery set up. With the babies genders remaining a secret, pots of neutral paint sits in the room. Dust sheets are down ready to catch any splatters of paint which hadn’t made it onto the walls. Tins of light colours are waiting to be applied and Henry has changed into his “DIY” clothes which are sweatpants and a loose, though still fitted for him, cotton tee shirt.

Most of the walls will be a pale grey to match the carpet, but there’ll be soft mint greens, duck egg blues, pale yellows scattered around the room in forms of cuddle bears, artwork and books that he wants to read to them. Two rocking chairs have been placed, and tested, and he already looks forward to sitting in them while reading to the two of them as they have their feed, much like he’s already done with her sitting beside him, their joined hands pressed to her large bump as he’d read some of his favourite childhood stories to them so that they would already recognise his voice. She’s due in one months’ time, and only now does he feel confident enough to begin to paint and assemble everything he’d bought.

She’d caught him in the middle of their living room two months ago, the boxes emptied out and him checking every screw, every nut, bolt and piece against the assembly instructions to ensure that everything was there, fully prepared with the phone and laptop beside him to make all the forms of contact needed to get the right parts sent out. “I’m not leaving it until last minute to then find out something is missing, or wrong or damaged and it’s too late.”

He’s strolled around the house with the double pram, telling her he needed to break in the wheels. He’s practiced for what felt like hours closing the pram and re-opening it again. Getting it in and out of the large car which he bought for the babies in mind. He’s tested numerous ways of picking up the baby carriers and how to get them in and out of the car with ease. He’s completed a baby first aid course and made sure he’s bought enough things to baby proof the house.

“You have some explaining to do.” She says, waddling into the doorway of the nursery, holding up some of the baby outfits he’s purchased.

“Look at the little cape though.” He grins, putting down the paint roller and tray before he’s even applied the first stroke. He walks over to her, his hand instinctively going to her belly as the other touches the cape of the baby vest which reads “my daddy is superman.”

“And this?” She holds up a mini Chiefs kit.

“I don’t make the rules around here. It’s law that they should match their daddy.”

“But what if they choose to suppo-”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Henry cuts her off with a wag of his finger, “we don’t have none of that negativity around here. Absolutely not.” It takes everything she can muster not to crack another smile and to try and keep her expression as neutral as possible but the stern look upon Henry’s face makes it more difficult to do so.

“You can’t wait for this, can you?” She asks him as she sinks down into her rocking chair and slowly goes back and forth, sighing contently to get the weight from her swelling ankles and sore feet.

“Lumberjack beard, bags under my eyes so big I could do a months shopping in them and endless stories of ‘so yeah, my kid pooped today’ conversations. I can’t wait.”

“No dad bod?” She questions.

“I’m a daddy now, and I’ve got a body.” You sure are daddy, she thinks. If she weren’t suffering from her aching hips, she’d be wanting to climb onto his lap and ride him. He looks far too good right now.

“Yeah you have, now let me see that body of yours get to work….on this room. Not on me.” She says, holding up her finger and lifting a leg up as though that could stop Henry from covering her body with his own, “you’ve done enough.”

“Well, you know what they say… it helps to speed things along…”

[calliecat93]

When I started TNG, the biggest curiosity I had was why Dr. Pulaski was so hated. I heard plenty about why, but at the same time I wanted to see for myself and be able to draw my own conclusions. Well now that I’ve finished S2, I think that I can safely state my opinion and the reasons why she had such a bad reception.

My general opinion is… Pulaski’s fine, but she got an bad start. She’s a very competent doctor who is devoted to her duty. She’s a bit of a smartass, but otherwise a friendly enough person. She’s a VERY much based off a certain CMO form a certain other Star Trek show that came out before this one, but we’ll get to that later. Pulaski honestly had a lot working against her and she just wasn’t able to get over them despite her actress Diana Muldaur (who played Miranda Jones in TOS) doing an excelent acting job. It ultimately ended with Pulaski being dropped all together and Crusher returning in Season 3.

While I understand the hate against Pulaski and can’t say that it’s unwarranted to an extent, I think that a lot of it that I saw was overblown. Now if people disliked the character, that’s fine. Everyone has different tastes and reasons for what they like and dislike and should be free to have and express those thoughts. But a lot of the issues with her that I had were taken care of very early on and she became much better by the end of her tenure. So why do I believe that Pulaski ultimately failed? Well I’ve come up with three explanations based off my own observations from watching the show and what I got from fandom consensus. Now this is all my opinion based on those observations and is not objective fact whatsoever, so take this with a grain of salt. So I believe the reasons that Pulaski failed are:

#1. She Is Essentially a Female Dr. McCoy… Sort Of: Pulaski was clearly heavily based on Dr. McCoy from TOS. She’s an middle-aged, somewhat world-weary doctor. She’s stubborn, grumpy, and doesn’t put up with anyone’s crap. She’s witty and always ready with a biting comment. She has the dedication to her job. She has the bantery relationship with the Science Officer, which we’ll go into that here soon. She is a doctor before she is an officer and that will always be her top priority, even at great risk to herself. She has a zero tolerance towards authority and isn’t afraid to talk back to anyone no matter how much they outrank her. She even outright has a hatred of teleporters that McCoy had. The parallels are all there. It may be why I’m a bit more lenient on her since McCoy is very much my favorite character in TOS and so far all of ST. But I think it is very much the root of the problem.

While Pulaski has several of McCoy’s traits, I think the writers really only understood McCoy on a surface level. They forget to include his compassion, his empathy, his humanism, his loyalty to the captain even when he opposes his actions, all of the things that make McCoy… well, McCoy. I don’t even know if the pacifism is there. Also McCoy had over 70 episodes of TOS and at that point five films (Undiscovered Country hadn’t been made yet). Pulaski had about 20 episodes and her relevance depended on the episode. McCoy had that as well, but he also had more material so we had FAR more time to get to know him. Pulaski didn’t get to have the time to gain that depth or care from the audience. Like… can I imagine Pulaski hypoing someone so that she can be tortured in their stead and it have the same impact that The Empath did? Can I see her counseling and assuring Picard if he’s having doubts like McCoy did for Kirk in The Ultimate Computer (okay tbf that would be Troi’s job but still)? Could I imagine any of the main cast being crushed about Pulaski dying of a terminal illness and choosing to stay on essentially a doomed spaceship with someone she just met and feel as gutted as I did in For the World is Hollow…? Honestly… given time maybe but in the end no. Now could I imagine McCoy risking getting an aging illness to possibly cure a child and others of it ala Unnatural Selection? Yes, albiet I think he’d be smart enough to bring protective equipment with him to be safe. Could I imagine McCoy telling someone like Data they’d be wrong to sit by a woman giving birth because he wasn’t human ala The Child? Hell no. Maybe he would if he was worried it would cause potential distress the one giving birth, but it sure as hell wouldn’t be because they’re an android. But I could imagine that someone who just saw McCoy as ‘grumpy doctor with a bad bedside manner who says witty lines and argues with the logical Vulcan character’ would get that interpretation. Thus why I think that Pulaski may have ended up how she did.

Now mind you I do think it IS a double standard to excuse McCoy’s dickish momemts and flaws, but demonize Pulaski for her’s. It’s like saying a man can be that way because it’s just expected of them and they can be forgiven, but a woman doing so or being assertice is wrong and they are horrible and unforgivable for having these traits or having flaws even if they correct them. That being said I do think that it’s more than that and it all comes down to the fact that TOS and TNG are two different shows with different character dynamics and ways of doing things. TOS mainly followed a Triumvirate (for the most part but that’s a different post entirely), TNG is much more of an ensemble. Pulaski didn’t have a Kirk nor a Spock to bounce off of or either let her traits shine or be kept in check like McCoy did nor did she really develop any unique relations for herself aside from maybe with Troi. We hear about her empathy and humanitarianism, but we don’t really see it on-screen like we did with McCoy. She has his surface level traits, not the deeper ones that the Triumvirate dynamic along his doctor position allowed him to showcase. In other words, Pulaski was put in a series that wasn’t designed for her while McCoy was exactly where he needed to be in order to thrive. It really speaks to how much the TNG writers didn’t really seem to get McCoy or why and how his character worked, which is strange since they got him right when he showed up in the series premiere. But maybe that was due to DeForest Kelley and him absolutely knowing the character he’d played for so long. But yeah they tried to replicate McCoy, and it just didn’t work with TNG’s already established character dynamics nor did they fully get the character that they were trying to recreate. If I want McCoy, I’ll go watch TOS or AOS. I didn’t need Pulaski for that.

#2. Data and Misconstrued Character Dynamics; This is in relation to the first reason and REALLY shows how much the writers didn’t think the dynamics through. We all know how much Spock and McCoy bantered. How they are opposite ends of the spectrum and how their perspective points helped Kirk in making his decisions. Well clealry they wanted to re-create that with Pulaski and Data. Makes sense, Pulaski represents the humanism and Data the logical. But there’s one big, BIG problem with that: Data is NOT Spock. A lot fo people have pointed this out, but here’s the thing about Spock. Despite whatever he may have said, Spock DID have emotions. He kept them suppressed due to the issues in his upbringing and that wasn’t necessarily healthy, but he did have them. And despite speaking in a calm manner, he was also an utter sass bucket, could be rude, and had no issue putting down humanity if he had a point to make. He and McCoy were very much equal in their bantering and yes maybe McCoy could go too far with his insults, but there was always an equal balance and Spock was also perfectly capable of starting/escalating their spats. There were also plenty of moments to show that in spite of it, they were still friends and cared a great deal about each other with probably the best examples of this being The Immunity Syndrome, Bread and Circuses, The Empath, and plenty of moments in others like Miri and For the World is Hollow… Those who have been following me know how much I love the Spock/McCoy dynamic and I could go all day, but the point is it’s a complex relationship that may seem like disdain on the outside, but is so much more when you examine it up close.

Data however? Data is intelligent and the Science Officer with a calm demeanor, but that’s about where the similarity between him and Spock ends. Data is an android. I do not believe that he is emotionless, he just has a different wiring that causes him to feel things differently. He’s never shown disdain towards humanity at least from what I’ve observed thus far. If anything, he actively seeks to understand it and emotions more. He actively has hobbies like Sherlock Holmes. He tries things like sneezing and growing a beard in an effort to understand more. Data is more or less a child with a child-like understanding of things and he doesn’t really understand social cues or things like humor, but he DOES have emotions and feelings. There’s too much on-screen evidence to say otherwise. He just has his own way of processing it. This is what makes Pulaski look so bad. When she calls Data a machine, says he can’t understand, and even purposefully mispronounces his name, she comes across as an outright bully. She is essentially bullying a neurodivergent child. Do I need to explain why that’s awful? Data, while by no means a doormat, isn’t the type to sass back or make any biting comments back like Spock would. There is no balance. There is no equal footing. There are not enough positive interactions outside the banter to show that there is something deeper there at the end of the day like Spock and McCoy did. Heck you can even compare how Pulaski and McCoy talk to Data via McCoy’s guest appearance in Encounter at Farpoint. He DOES make a quip about Vulcans when talking to Data and when Data points out he’s an android not a Vulcan, McCoy mumbles “Just as bad.” But immediately after he gives Data genuine heartfelt advice on treating the Enterprise with care. It’s clear that ultimately it’s McCoy being his usual grumpy self who’d be acting the same way towards anyone else and is otherwise perfectly civil and encouraging to Data. We’ve known him long enough to know this. Pulaski didn’t have that luxury, coming off as condescending towards Data at best and considering that she’s a doctor, it looks especially bad.

Now to be fair this only lasts for about four episodes. Pulaski does start catching herself by her second episode, and stops completely after Unnatural Selection when Data helps her and stays with her after she gets the aging virus. After that she’s MUCH moe civil to him, even defending his choice going against the Prime Directive in Pen Pals and was at his retirement party in The Measure of a Man. But clearly the damage had been done. Data is a very beloved character and by Oulaski’s intro had already been established and well-liked character. Data was treated equally and was valued as far more than just an android among the rest of the crew, Crusher included, so Pulaski coming in a season later and acting that way also didn’t help. The writers did not think through why Spock and McCoy worked and how to try figure out a unique dynamic for Pulaski and Data. Instead they just tried to copy TOS, and it utterly failed. It ruined Pulaski’s chances before she could even really start running. But I do believe that she could have rebounded and as I said, she DID get past it. She did relapse some at the end of the season in Peak Performance to the point I wanna say that maybe it chronologically happened earlier in the season, but even then she felt realized her screw up and apologized. It’s still an improvement from early on. But things just weren’t meant to be, which leads is to…

#3. She Only Lasted One Season/She Replaced Dr. Crusher: I believe that the biggest thing that worked against Pulaski is simple: she was cut after Season 2. Pulaski was created when Gates MacFadden left the show. I’ve seen conflicting reasons as to why, but regardless she left and a CMO was needed. IDK how popular Crusher was, but I had really enjoyed her. She was essentially the mom of the ship which added something different from TOS (wel McCoy was also the mom lets be real XD), had a son onboard which also added something new, was very much capable and devoted to her job, and was a badass when she got to use a phaser. Her being written out sucked, but that’s not necessarily a reason to hate Pulaski. But as I highlighted above, she just didn’t work. They tried to make McCoy, but without the dynamics and depth that let McCoy flourish. TNG is not TOS. Whenever TNG tried replicating TOS like with The Naked Now? It blew up in their faces. The key to a spinoff or reboot is to keep certain themes and tone alive, but to not just replicate what came before. TNG flourished when it began to find it’s own footing, and ultimately lasted four seasons longer than it’s predecessor due to it.

I genuinely believe that Pulaski COULD have developed into her own character and could have found her place the same way that McCoy did. But alas that didn’t happen. People wanted Crusher back, so they managed to get MacFadden to return and thus Crusher was put back in her rightful place. Because of it, Pulaski was just forgotten about. She didn’t get the chance to form her own character. She didn’t the chance to develop further and leave her early days behind. Why? Because she simply wasn’t given the opprotunity to do so. I can’t say it was the wrong choice, but it’s an utter shame because I do believe that Pulaski was on her way to improving. But it was too late. Her bad start with Data, her character not working in the TNG dynamic, and her replacing an already perfectly likeable character who did fit the dynamics all amounted to the character’s abrupt end. And because she didn’t get the chance to develop further and find her own path, her bad reputation has stuck to this very day.

In the end, the whole thing just feels like a waste. Pulaski had potential, but it just didn’t work in the end. I can’t say that I hate her. If anything, I feel bad for her. The writers failed her at the end of the day and by the time they tried correcting their errors, the audience had already made their judgement. It may have been for the best to just drop her and bring Crusher back, but I also hate seeing character potential just so utterly wasted. I hope that if any side material used Pulaski, they were able to find a much better direction for her. I can’t say that I love Pulaski. In a more TOS-like setting maybe she’d have worked better. But in the end I think that Pulaski was a decent character who just had too much working against her and they caused her to crash and burn. Just an unfortunate case all in all.

(Image Source)

[delimeful]

you will see a better day

donation drive commission for @starrykid with the prompt: Remus dealing with intrusive thoughts and the others helping him through it.

warnings: canon setting, intrusive thoughts (a fair amount), gore mentions, implications of thoughts of self harm, Remus Going Thru It

-

Before, whenever he had a Bad Day, it was just more fuel on the trash fire that was his brain. 

It was routine: Remus would wake up with a litany of grotesque images on the back of his eyelids, present every time he blinked or squeezed his eyes shut in frustration. These thoughts weren’t the fun kind of gross, the type that was fascinating or funny. They weren’t fun because he didn’t choose them, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get rid of them if he didn’t like them. 

Guess that was how everyone else felt about you. Remus mashed a pillow over his own face as though it would muffle his own mind. What a stupid thought. He was a luxury few could afford, thank-you-very-much!

Back then, as soon as possible, he would find someone else in the Mindscape to bother, because if he had to deal with the awful thoughts carving and chipping away at the inside of his skull, it was only fair to share. 

That was before, when things had been black and white and he could be a monster all he pleased because it wasn’t like anyone else thought differently. It wasn’t like Thomas thought differently. 

Until he did.

And now they were all in one muddled up Mindscape and the others were trying, making an effort to clot their own bad habits and setting a place for him at the table. It was slow-going, like shoving a square peg into a circular hole, but it was also the most he’d ever had. Until something splintered, he was going to soak in every minute of it. 

Or at least, that was his plan, up until he hit another Bad Day like a semi truck hit thrice-dead roadkill. 

Same thoughts, same pounding (heh) headache. The difference was, now he couldn’t go word-vomit all over the nearest Side until he felt a little less like he was drowning. He was working to keep the delicate peace in his own way, and that meant not bothering the others with his… himself-ness on days like these. 

He couldn’t stay in his room all day, though. For one it was boring, and for two, ever since they’d all agreed to try and cohabitate, Patton and Janus in particular were insistent on checking in if anyone acted strange. Cooping up in his room and not being his usual fantastically sickening and outrageous self would definitely pop up on their radar. If that happened, there was no way he could fool Janus outright. He preferred his own brand of frank honesty anyways, so clearly the only solution was to behave normally enough that nobody looked twice. 

His version of normal, anyhow. 

He groaned loudly and then dragged in a breath, manifesting a pair of slippers that looked uncannily like dead fish onto his feet. He would just have to put his excellent acting skills to use. 

—- 

Remus’s willpower was put to the test as soon as he reached the kitchen. A new record of his ability to destroy plans, this must be why Janus never told him anything. 

Patton was spinning himself in circles on one of the round stools by the bar counter, humming a cartoon theme brightly to himself. At the stovetop, Virgil was sedately flipping pancakes, an easy set to his shoulders that meant he had probably recently taken a long-overdue nap in Logan’s room.

Normally, Remus would already be halfway into teasing the hell out of him, but now his brain felt scrambled with panic. Virgil was particularly susceptible to getting dragged into the cycle of intrusive thoughts on days like these, which meant the anxious Side was the last one he wanted to run into at the moment. 

Two birds with one brick, his stupid hell brain suggested slyly. Send Virgil into a spiral and then it’ll be him who gets nagged, his fault for ruining the friendly atmosphere. 

Stop it. Remus’s face twitched into a self-directed snarl for a moment, and he forced the thought away as Patton finally slowed his rotation to smile dizzily at him. 

“Remus! Good morning!” 

Virgil glanced over his shoulder, sending Remus’s heart rate briefly into the triple digits. Be normal be normal be normal. “Hey, Re. Morning.”

He didn’t even notice. So much for being your friend. If you’re subtle enough, you could sidle up behind him and smash his face into the hot burner—

“WHAT’S UP, FUCKERS!” Remus shouted, teeth spread in a too-wide grin. He bounced into the kitchen, depositing an assorted handful of teeth (his preferred currency) into the swear jar before Patton could say anything, and planted himself on the middle bar stool. 

Patton scooted one stool closer to be next to him, because of course he did. Remus resisted the urge to start prying out handfuls of hair, his own or— no. Toned down, he was keeping it toned down. Buttcheek on a stick, this was difficult.

“Want to spin with me?” Patton asked, shifting antsily from side to side with barely contained energy. 

“Whoever pukes first wins?” Remus replied automatically, and felt a bright burst of giddy joy when Patton giggle-snorted instead of recoiling. 

“I think upchuck is actually supposed to mean you lose your lunch and the spinning contest, kiddo.” 

Of course it did. You were designed to be the loser, even if you try to change the rules. 

Remus knew that this time Patton had spotted the way his lips twitched down into a grimace, but before the fatherly side could say anything, there was the clink of ceramic plates on the counter in front of them. 

“No spinning and/or vomiting if you want to eat my pancakes,” Virgil demanded, wielding a spatula threateningly at them as he clicked the stovetop off. “We’ll never hear the end of it from Princey if he has to reconjure all the furniture.” 

Irrational, heated anger burned through him. Like Virgil could do anything to stop you. Social interaction was enough to give the guy a panic attack, he couldn’t tell Remus to do or not do anything— 

“You good, Re?” Virgil asked, and he jerked, avoiding the other Side’s gaze as though eye contact would expose his thoughts. After a beat too long, his mind finally caught up with the plate in front of him. 

His pancake was covered in a truly disgusting amount of cheese and ketchup, the way he always requested it back when they’d all been Dark Sides. Despite the fact that he always made a face back then, Virgil had made a point to remember, had done it without asking. 

Like ravenous wolves, his thoughts instantly turned against him. 

Pathetic. How could you think things like that about people who trust you? You shouldn’t even be here, pretending to be a person. You deserve everything coming to you. 

His hand made it halfway to the fork sitting innocently next to his plate before he remembered himself. Virgil was still looking at him, clearly having caught the motion, and Remus lowered his hand, white-knuckled. 

“Me, good? That’s a funny one, V-mo!” he tried to joke, but the odd edge to his voice made it fall flat. Virgil was outright frowning now, and out of the corner of his vision Patton’s eyebrows were drawing together.

“What’s wrong?” Virgil asked, his frame tight with tension and his gaze drilling into Remus. “Are you hurt?” 

“I could be!” Remus blurted, trying to keep his tone saucy but ending up with something closer to desperate. “You ever think maybe bashing my skull in would be better than having to deal with its contents?”

The two of them winced, and he knew he’d given himself away completely. Shit.

Virgil reached out, and then stopped himself before he could make contact. Can you blame him? Jumping into an electrified tank of leeches would be more comfortable than willingly exposing himself to you. 

Something of his internal diatribe must have shown on Remus’s face, because Virgil’s hesitant expression flickered into regret.

“Shit,” he swore, and this time Patton didn’t chide him. “I can’t-- I don’t want to send you into a spiral, Re. If I touch you, we’re just going to be stuck in a feedback loop of bad thoughts.” 

“Like how you’re perpetually stuck in 2009?” Remus offered, instead of listing all the ways he could feasibly remove Virgil’s eyes from their sockets. It would almost be fun, if it wasn’t his friend’s eyes he was contemplating prying out with a spoon handle. 

Virgil’s lips pulled up slightly. “Yeah, just like that. I’m gonna go get the others. They’ll be able to help you for real.” 

He sunk out, and Remus’s head started to ache more severely as terrible and often gory predictions for the future began to crowd his mind. He shoved his hands into the roots of his hair and tugged ferociously. 

“Hey, buddy, you shouldn’t pull on your hair like that,” a concerned voice chimed in. Remus had almost forgotten Patton was still there, sitting only a seat away. 

He pulled harder on his hair, both out of spite and to distract himself from the urge to summon a weapon and see if Patton would still look at you with so much pity if you shanked his ass and tied his intestines into little bows. 

“Hey, what do you call a seasick croc?” Patton asked, abruptly enough that Remus managed to shake his train of thought. He glanced up to look at the Heart, who offered him a tremulous mischievous smile. “A crocobile.” 

Remus snorted, and Patton’s smile seemed to firm up. 

“How about, why do ducks have tail feathers?” the moral Side asked in that same leading tone. 

Remus thought for a minute. “‘Cause otherwise they’d lose their balance in flight and go splat against the nearest window?” 

“I mean, maybe, but also!” Patton held up a finger for emphasis. “They have tail feathers to cover their… butt-quacks.”

There was a beat of anticipation where they both stared at each other, and then Remus threw his head back and outright cackled. Patton fist pumped in delight. 

“I thought you might like that one, kiddo,” he said, beaming. Before Remus could reply, possibly with an atrocious pun of his own, Roman strode into the room. 

There was a brief, awkward pause as the two of them made eye contact. Patton looked rapidly between them with concern, and Remus couldn’t blame him. Even now, their one-on-one interactions tended to end with vicious spats. They were too good, too practiced at pressing each other's buttons to settle into the newfound peace easily. 

“... Bad one?” he finally asked, as though he could spot the wrong-evil-awful all over Remus from a mile away. Remus felt his expression drop into an irritable glower worthy of Anxiety, but before he could retort, Roman was seating himself primly on the communal couch.   

He ran his hand through the hair at the nape of his neck in a nervous habit Remus constantly teased him about, and then straightened his shoulders and patted the cushion next to him. “I’ll… like when we were kids. If you want.” 

Despite Patton’s confused head tilt, Remus got it immediately, and ignored the screaming violence in his head in favor of bodily throwing himself over the couch, jostling the hell out of his brother and eliciting a Grade-A Bitchface from him in the process. Remus grinned maliciously in return.

“Do the one that looks like a snake,” he demanded, running a hand through his hair and lengthening it. Of course, in addition, thick clumps of hair ended up falling out entirely, leaving weird-feeling bald patches that might have been interesting if he’d actually intended to create them. 

“On purpose or don’t want it?” Roman asked, echoing a familiar question from their childhood. It had been a royal decree, before they grew so divided, that one had to ask before ‘fixing’ anything the other did, just in case it was on purpose. 

“How are you supposed to braid what isn’t there?” Remus grumbled, gnawing on the inside of his cheek as he unwillingly imagined restapling his hair to his skull. “Don’t want it.” 

Roman dragged his fingers through Remus’s hair, lengthening it until it was long enough to do all sorts of stupid-complicated braids. He also made the new hair unforgivably glossy and apple-scented, but Remus could get him back for that later, when he was sure it wouldn’t be (nails through nasal cavities, a cloud of suffocating darkness, decaying hands pulling you down into freshly turned soil and burying you alive) disproportionate retribution. 

Two braids later, Logan appeared, rising up in the mindscape with his tie perfectly aligned but lab goggle imprints around his eyes. He only took a moment to absorb the scene, as though it was normal that everyone was crowding around Remus attentively. “Virgil informed me that you could use some assistance?” 

Remus snorted. “Maybe you can perform some impromptu brain surgery to stop me thinking? Hey, if you don’t use anesthetic, I promise not to squirm too much, doc.”

“I don’t believe that man’s ever been to medical school,” Roman quoted absently, still caught up in combining three braids together into one. 

Logan rolled his eyes. “Regardless of my unfortunately lacking PhD status, I believe brain surgery to ‘stop one thinking’ is also colloquially referred to as an induced coma.” 

“Perfect!” Remus cheered, and then yelped when Roman tugged on his hair harshly in retribution. Patton was making that half-pitiful, half-furious face that he always made whenever the emo talked bad about himself, strangely enough.

“There are plenty of adjectives I could use to describe such a solution, but none of them would be ‘perfect’, Remus,” Logan continued. “A more effective and patient-friendly answer would be addressing your irritating or harmful thoughts through the use of various mental health tactics.” 

Easy for him to say. “That might work for Tommy-boy, but I am the harmful or irritating thoughts, remember?” 

“Falsehood.” Logan declared, proving that no matter what aspect of Thomas they were, the Sides were all dramatic theater kid bastards at heart. “It has become increasingly clear that while we all formed to handle certain tasks or aspects, we are all increasingly complex at heart. None of us can be diminished to simply one trait. In the same way that Virgil is much more than the experience of anxiety, there is no logical reason to reduce yourself to the thoughts that you struggle with.” 

Remus shook his head, though he wasn’t sure what part of the assertion he was resisting. Logan folded himself into a sitting position and reached over for Remus’s hand, his touch grounding. 

“You’ve gotten through days like this before. You’ll continue to do so after,” Logan told him. 

“I got through Bad Days by making everyone’s day bad,” Remus retorted. “I’m not you, but I’m not stupid. Nobody wants me making it into a communal event.” 

“That’s what family’s for though,” Patton said, shifting closer from his own spot on the rug. “Listening. Helping. Having each other’s backs when things get tough!” 

Logan’s grip didn’t falter. Roman’s presence was solid at his back. Remus was beginning to wonder if he’d snorted something hallucinogenic recently.

“The sentiment is admirable, if a bit hypocritical,” a familiar voice chimed in, and Remus looked up to see Janus leaning elegantly against the kitchen archway. Virgil elbowed his way past, ruining the dramatic pose and flopping down on the couch next to Remus. He bumped his shoe against Remus’s leg in quiet camaraderie.

“Hypocritical?” Logan echoed, raising an eyebrow. 

“Unless you’d like to tell me that everyone here has no problems whatsoever asking for help or expressing vulnerability on their bad days,” Janus proposed, smugly. 

Logan inclined his head slightly. “Point.” 

“Regardless, that doesn’t make Logic or Morality incorrect.” Janus looked at Remus intently. “None of us are allowed to simply suffer in silence, anymore.”

“I didn’t exactly suffer in silence before,” he pointed out, sounding uncannily sensible. Probably from the nerd’s proximity. 

“Then you shouldn’t have a problem now, hmm?” Janus replied. 

Logan sighed at them all, collectively, in general. “Look at it from this angle, Remus. Your previous coping mechanism was generally detrimental due to your lack of options and isolation. Now, you have neither of those holding you back. With knowledge and assistance, you can only improve from here on out.” 

Now, that was doubtful. “And what if I don’t, huh? What if I just get worse?” 

“Then we’ll still be here.” Logan squeezed his hand, and Janus confirmed his words with a nod, and even though his mind was cluttered and overwhelming, they were all still there at his side without complaint. 

Maybe it wasn’t too much to ask, after all.

“Well, what are we trying first?”

[missdawnandherdusk]

Gryffindor Extensive Dating Neville Headcanons:

A/N: Y’all keep finding and requesting the characters I’m so soft for. Here’s my baby Neville who is an absolute sweetheart of a character and should be appreciated more. Requested by @maybenotjellytot (and it’s not letting me tag you, curse you Tumblr)

You know the drill, this is super long and super cute

You meet on the Hogwarts express. He’s stammering and clinging to Trevor for dear life

He’s so shy and blushing and tripping over his words that you can’t help but giggle and introduce yourself

“Neville. Me. I’m. Yes. Leville Nongbottom” You giggle again and he’s bright red.

“Nice to meet you Neville,” you smile brightly.

You sit together on the train ride and it’s sort of awkward but a good awkward. He starts to open up a bit about wanting to learn magic and that his Gran is expecting a lot from him.

You can sympathize with your overbearing well meaning pure blood grandfather

Then you’re both sorted into Gryffindor and it’s nice to have a friend. You find friends in the Golden Trio as well, but you’re always partial to Neville because he’s the first one who had the courage to say hello to you

Since you’re in the same house it means you have all of your classes together. Potions is rough for both of you and Snape just terrifies Neville—sure he was creepy but you didn’t really understand it. You still defended him though, even if it ended you in detention a lot

“You really don’t have to do this,” he stammers, meeting you after detention. “I don’t mind,” you smile and so does he.

You love Astronomy and he loves Herbology and you two are the biggest dorks. He knows everything about plants and you know everything about the stars

Soon you’re learning to ride brooms. It comes easy to you and Neville breaks his wrist. You take him to the infirmary flipping Malfoy off as you walk away sure Hooch took five points from Gryffindor for it but it felt good. The little prat

“There’s always one,” Pomfrey sighs and resets Neville’a wrist. You stay by his side all the while, reassuring him that he was amazing anyway.

“I can’t do anything,” he groans. “Some Gryffindor I am. I don’t belong here.” “Neville that’s not true,” you frown. “You belong in Gryffindor as much as Nifflers love gold.” You both blush at your sudden defense of him.

And honestly it’s nice to have a friend. When the weather turns colder and you’re freezing Neville gives you his gloves and tells you not to worry about it.

You study for exams together. It takes some time but Neville finally catches on to Potions when you (re)teach him the lessons. Snape doesn’t bother you like he does Neville you always want to ask him about it but never find the courage. Some Gryffindor you are, you think

The Christmas Holiday comes and you both hug each other goodbye, promising to write to another and his grandmother and your parents catch sight of the interaction and they tease you both about it all the time

“Mum he’s just a friend!” You whine. “Gran she’s just a friend! That’s all!” Neville dismays. Neither guardian is convinced.

You get Neville a Herbology book and spend time drawing a few of his favorite plants perfectly for Christmas and he gets you a monocle that works like a telescope and shows the night sky any time of day

You go to Quidditch games together and you both put in the same amount of effort into Gryffindor spirit but something is always slightly off to you about the house system that you don’t really tell anyone

You sneak up to the Astronomy tower most weekends and one time Neville catches you saying “you shouldn’t be here you’re going to get in trouble” you take his hand and pull him up the tower and let his hand go, marveling at the stars

“Aren’t they wonderful?” You sigh. “So many stories are written up there Nev, and every night they smile down on us,”

Neville doesn’t understand your passion for the stars but he loves the way you talk about them, like you knew each of the characters in the stories that the stars told

One night you find Harry and Hermione in the Astronomy tower and you’re surprised. Now thanks to Malfoy you all have detention.

In the Forbidden forest you’re paired with Neville and Hagrid and you both set off, terrified. Neville hated the dark and you hated not being able to see the stars. You hear a noise from behind you and jump into Neville arms.

You’re both blushing and awkward. As you apologize and he stammers something about not worrying. Gee some Gryffindors you two are

You’re the one who finds Neville after Hermione immobilizes him and after you undo the spell, you two go straight to McGonagall. Again, you take his hand and pull him through the halls on the way to McGonagall. When he explains what happened, you beam because of course he’s a Gryffindor how can he not see that?

At the End of Year Feast he’s awarded the ten points that causes Gryffindor to win and you hug him without a second thought and now you two are blushing and awkward again and everyone laughs at the two of you.

You write to him over the summer and it’s really nice to have him to talk to. He’s a bit more honest in his letters than he ever was actually talking and laments quite often about his grandmothers expectations and that he’s afraid of failing everyone—especially his parents.

That threw you off guard because you didn’t know anything about his parents and he clammed up about the matter whenever you brought it up so you dropped it a long time ago. You still didn’t ask because well, you figured he’d tell you when he was ready. You also tell him that he could never fail you

You send him a photo of the little garden you’ve started because maybe listening to him talk all those nights made something actually stick and you weren’t half bad at gardening and a bit of Moon Lace (a flower that only blooms under the full moon) for his birthday.

Boy does his grandmother ship you two so hard “Ask her out Neville! Be a man! Treat her with respect! I’d always knew you’d find some lovely girl,” “Gran we’re twelve,” “Nonsense dear boy. When you find a girl like that you don’t let her go,”

Now Neville’s worried about being around you because he feels pressured and maybe he does actually like you but he’s sure you only see him as a friend and he doesn’t want to lose you because his grandmother is right, he doesn’t want to let you go

You meet him on the Hogwarts Express again and you two sit together and all of those worries seem to fade because you weren’t just his friend you were his best friend and he wouldn’t trade that for anything

You’re also sitting with another girl—Luna Lovegood. A first year who has her head in the clouds who then gets sorted into Ravenclaw and you three become the “Silver Trio”

When every girl is enamored with Lockheart, you roll your eyes and scoff and Neville feels slightly satisfied at that.

Neville can tell that you’re saddened because you don’t have Astronomy this year, so he tries to cheer you up by sneaking you to the Astronomy Tower whenever he can manage

You spend those nights telling him stories about the ancient gods and heroes that the stars hold, and he gets lost in your words wondering what it would be like to live back then

When the Chamber of Secrets opens you’re a bit more scared than you let on. The only one who knows that is Neville.

When students start to get petrified, you’re hardly seen away from Neville because you don’t want to be next

Malfoy teases you about it and boy does Neville go off on him surprising everyone even you a bit because you knew he was brave but standing up to Malfoy was a different matter that bordered stupid and you’re a goner because if you doubted your feelings for him before you didn’t now

Neville isn’t the best with comforting people so he normally just ends up getting you plants/flowers. You have a small garden on your bedroom window filled with anything and everything and you care for and name each of them

Third year comes and this time you’re enamored with the new DADA teacher and Neville doesn’t get it and neither do you really. But there’s something about Professor Lupin that just draws you in. Of course you have no idea yet that he’s a werewolf and thereby connected to the moon and stars of which you adore

You love Lupin a little more when he teaches the Laughing Spell and makes a fool out of Professor Snape on Neville’a behalf

But now you’re sort of really worried because why in the world the thing Neville fears most Snape?

When your boggart turns into a mirror Neville worries too because what in the world is that supposed to mean?

It’s a late night in the Astronomy Tower that has you both blurting out “why is that your boggart?”

You both look down, scared to admit what’s deep inside. Neville gives in first and begins to explain.

“Snape was one of You Know Whos most trusted in the first war... my... my parents were—”

“Neville you don’t have to tell me if you’re not—” you quickly cut in

“No, I trust you. And... it’ll be nice to have someone understand,” You take hold of his hand and listen earnestly while he tells you about his parents and how they were driven to insanity by Death Eaters and that Snape reminds him of that every day because all he sees is bravery of his parents that he can never live up to and the one who forced it upon him

You pull him into a hug and just hold him close. You had no idea, but now that you did, it out the world into perspective for you a bit more.

“What about you?” He asked softly. “Why...?”

“The mirror,” you sighed. “I... I hate my reflection. It... it reminds me that I’m never enough. I’m not enough for my parents... or my grandparents... or other people. That I’m not good enough, pretty enough, smart enough, brave enough...” you hug your knees. “Nobody wants someone who’s broken. No one wants a freak,”

“I do,” Neville’s words are sure and confident. “You’re more than enough for me. You’re... you’re perfect...”

There are tears in your eyes and you wrap your arms around him.

Now when you by the off chance catch your relflection in something, Neville is normally right beside you and all your fear and worries about not being enough fade over the next few years

The Fat Lady’s portrait gets attacked and you take Nevilles hand without thinking because it feels secure and safe. You side by side with Neville in the Great Hall that night and you’re thankful for the night sky that’s projected on the ceiling

You can’t sleep so you watch the faux stars. Neville sits up with you and asks you to tell a story because it calms him and you and now there are a bunch of students and some professors listening to your stories.

You’re absolutely outraged when Snape steps in to reach DADA but you quiet down when Neville shakes his head, silently pleading not to draw attention to yourselves. You sulk and dive into the lesson because it’s very close to the lore you’re used to reading.

Then you almost drop your quill because you realize why Snape has you reading up on werewolves. “Hey, what’s Professor Lupins first name?” You ask stammering. “Uh, Remus, I think,” Neville frowns. “You alright?”

You nod and rush out of the room as soon as the bell ring and Neville is chasing after you because you’re normally not this skiddish/flighty

You grab a book from your personal library—a book on classical mythology—and flip through the pages. “I knew it!” Then you hear a crash and a yelp. “Oh stars, Neville,” you realize because you know for a fact he’s forgotten that the girls dormitories are enchanted. You race down and find him sprawled out on the common room floor.

“I’ll tell you,” you help him up. “Tonight,” then you’re at war with yourself because you don’t know how safe it is to be out in a full moon but you trust Dumbledore and Professor Lupin enough that later you and Neville are up in the Astonomy Tower

“A werewolf? You think Professor Lupin is a werewolf?” Neville asks skepically. “Yes,” you confirm and you’re about to go into it again when Neville intervenes “No, no I trust you. I do... but what are we going to do about it?”

“Nothing,” you whisper. “It wasn’t his choice... and he hasn’t hurt anybody...” “shouldn’t we tell someone?” Neville asks. “And out him? It’s not exactly easy to be a werewolf Nev.” you two just sit looking at the stars. The Neville reminds you that you both have an essay due for DADA for Snape.

“Oh! That wretched Snape!” You jump up. “Merlin! He’s making the entire class write how to kill werewolves for Lupin to read when he gets back!” You are absolutely seething and Neville has to stop you before you go and hex the stars out of Snape but Merlin does he love you for it

You refuse to write the essay. Instead you copy down all your notes about Roman mythology and Romulus and Remus and the She-Wolf Lupa and how all great heroes of Roman mythology start under the care of the She-Wolf

Remus is about having a nervous break down when he gets to your paper and now he’s sobbing because he’s reading your paper about heroes and wolves

You get full marks on the essay and Lupins deepest respect

Anyway

Neville stumbles through an invitation to Hogsmeade and again you laugh and accept and then before you know it it’s not just you two but an entire group of third years and you two can’t help but feel a bit disappointed

He followed you around the book shop as you pick up books and flip through them and you watch him marvel at the plants in a nearby shop. He goes back and buys you the book you were looking at and you buy him the vine plant. For Christmas. Obviously. As friends.

The holidays come and you’re both hesitant to say goodbye because of the fear lingering over Hogwarts but you part ways

You don’t spend a day without thinking of Neville is okay over the holidays and you send him letters constantly. He’s always worrying about you

When he visits his parents that Christmas he sits down and tells them about a girl he met who’s full of courage and stories and how kind she is and stubborn and brave and how they would adore her

His grandmother over hears and doesn’t tease Neville about it, but she has a deeper respect for you because you really have captured her grandsons heart

Malfoy is being Malfoy one day and you’re about to punch the git in the face but Neville grabs your arm. “It’s not worth it,” he whispers, “he can be wrong, but I know you and you’re not like him. Don’t stoop to his level.” and Merlin if you don’t melt on the spot and somber up

You figure out that Neville has the biggest sweet tooth after catching him in Honeydukes and you ask your (muggle) dad to send you Muggle candies and sweets for Neville to try. He always shares them with you and prefers sweets that don’t have an air of danger to them

You meet fourth gear on the train and your heart skips a beat because he’s grown about half a foot and his hair is shaggy and a mess and perfectly Neville and he still has Trevor and it makes you smile

He’s also freaking out internally because you’ve grown a lot over the summer and you’re in a muggle tshirt and jeans with an MP3 player and he’s just... wow. You two listen to music on the train ride this year and end up falling asleep on each other

At this point everyone including you is waiting for him to ask you out and become an official couple and every time you think he tries to ask you he stammers and freaks out and doesn’t because you’re just so perfect and pretty and popular and he’s not and he’s sure that you like someone else and he’s not much

He finally asks you to the Yule Ball... sort of.

“He’s been practicing dancing alone all month,” Rom jeers. “Must be some girl,” Neville is absolutely red and you can’t seem to look away from your dinner because you think he’s doing it for someone else because why wouldn’t he just ask you to practice dancing? You were best friends anyways, of course you would help him

You ask him who the girl is totally not jealous at all and he goes red and quiet again and you’re really worried now because you don’t want to lose him as a friend if he does like someone else

He finally admits that it is you that he wants to go to the ball with and you just stare at him not expecting that at all because you were convinced he liked someone else but no it’s you. Then it hits you. MERLIN HE LIKES YOU

He’s fumbling for an explanation and that it’s okay if you don’t want to go and a thousand other things and you just pull his tie and press your lips to his to shut him up. It’s awkward and uncoordinated but a perfect first kiss

You both can’t stop smiling the next few days because you’re finally together and there aren’t any walls between you anymore and it’s just nice to have your best friend back who is now also your boyfriend

Oh and you’re also going to the ball together. You smile about that too.

“It’s... it’s not much,” you flush looking down at your dress. “And it’s a bit muggle...” “You’re perfect,” Neville cuts you off and for once you believe the words and him practicing dancing really pays off because he’s bloody marvelous. You two spend the whole night laughing and dancing

Though everyone is staying on campus for the holidays because of the tournament Neville asks you if you want to come with him to visit his parents on the holiday. You smile softly and take his hand, nodding

You formally meet Neville’s Grandmother this time, not just passing by at a train station. She starts to scold Neville about doing something, but sees you clench your fist and take his hand and she pauses. 

You’re nervous and it’s written on your face and Neville thinks that it’s because of the entire situation and that his parents are well... but you quickly blurt out “What if they don’t like me?” Both Neville and his grandmother gape at you. His grandmother recovers first “a sweet brave witch like you? How can they not my dear?” 

You can see that Neville’s smile falls the father you walk into St. Mungo’s, so you take his hand and smile. He doesn’t smile but he doesn’t look so upset any longer. His gran leaves you two alone as you walk into the long room

“Mum? Dad? This is the girl I was telling you about,” And your heart just breaks for the one holding your hand. “Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom,” You smile and introduce yourself. “You have a wonderful son, and should be very proud,” and you realize just how brave Neville is for the first time in knowing him and Neville realizes that he never wants anyone but you by his side because you make him feel the bravest

You do visit him this summer. He lives in a downtown flat in the outskirts of London with his Gran. He’s got a garden in the small space out back and it’s filled with the most beautiful plants the moonlace you sent him is in a window box outside his bedroom 

he’s got a jar of old candy wrappers sitting on his dresser and you give him a questioning look. “They’re from my mum,” He admits “I... I don’t want to toss them but I don’t know what to do with them,” “May I?” You ask and he nods, looking slightly worried. 

You take one of the wrappers and easily fold it into a tiny origami butterfly. “My dad showed me how... we used to fold our gum wrappers...” soon each wrapper is folded into a little butterfly and placed into the jar again. 

Fifth year seems like a total fiasco between Umbridge and the ministry but you and Neville both love DA

You know he loves it because he feels like he’s finally making his parents proud. “You do that just by being their son, I don’t care what your gran says,” You whisper one night, looking at the old photo of the Order of the Phoenix 

You and Neville both get very good at defense spells and though you can’t sneak away to the Astronomy Tower that year, you do go to the RoR on quiet nights by yourselves and it’s just a huge greenhouse with a glass roof and walls where you can sit and watch the stars and maybe have midnight picnics 

okay i’m calling bullshit on JKR again neville has a corporeal patronus

It’s a lion, let’s be honest

When he does cast the patronus you let out a yell of victory and so does he. Then you’re hugging and the charm falls but he doesn’t care. Your patronus might be a five foot butterfly but its fine and terrifying 

You steal his sweaters all the time even though you think they’re god-awful but they’re always warm and smell like him and soft and you like people including your reflection knowing that you’re his and he wants you and chose you

Neville only gets caught by the Inquisitorial Squad because Draco  throws you to the ground and Neville breaks his nose a-la-muggle then helps you up

At the Ministry you and Neville are a force to be reckoned with against Death Eaters and he saves you from Bellatrix because damn if he’s letting anyone else he loves get hurt by her

But you’re one step ahead and jump in front of Neville just as Bellatrix sends the Cruatius curse at him and furious, Neville sends one right back at Bellatrix before lifting you into his arms

You’re not awake but you’re breathing. “Stupid brave girl,” He cries, holding you, carrying you away from the fight as the rest of the Order shows up

He stays beside your hospital cot and refuses to be looked after himself by Pomfrey until you open your eyes.��“Nev?” You rasp. “Stars! What were you thinking!? Running in front of me like that!?” He yells, pulling you into his arms. “Couldn’t let her hurt you too,” your voice is shaky and broken and he finds himself crying because he loves you. “I love you too Nev,” you whisper out

Then proceed to yell at him about refusing treatment and he laughs, wiping away your tears and pressing his lips to yours. It’s caked in dirt and blood, but it’s the best kiss and he refuses to let you out of his sight

That summer you go over every Sunday for family dinner and to just hang out with Neville. His gran hovers the first few weeks, but boy is she smitten with you because you remind her so much of Neville’s mother

He comes to your muggle and magic home and is amazed at the farm house that you live in in the middle of nowhere and finally understands where your love of stars comes from because out in the country he could see everything

He loves your cat Moxy and asks why you don’t bring her to school and you explain that she’s not a familiar, she’s just a normal house cat. And he swears that you and the cat have a language of your own and sees you two have full on conversations and arguments and just smiles because he loves you

Your parents love him so much and adopt him into the family on the spot. You show him some muggle flowers and plants that are your favorite (sunflowers, marigolds, loquat trees hydrangeas). You two spend forever binging Disney movies because he’s never seen any and you’re not having that and despite the war looming overhead, it’s a moment of peace

Sixth year when Neville gets the invitation for Slughorn’s lunch on the train you practically have to shove him out the door because “We always ride together, I can’t just leave you, I’m not going.” “Neville I swear to the gods go!” 

He comes back, slightly sulking and you ask. “Just wanted to know my for who my parents are,” You dislike Slughorn on the spot. “Or maybe he wants to know you because you’re a hero,” You brush his hair from his eyes. It’s not hard to get the smile back into his eyes and on his lips

Sixth year is relatively normal for you and Neville, despite all of the fear and rumors spreading about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. You are aware that the Golden Trio and the “chosen one” are up to something but for the moment you just want to go to Hogwarts, kiss your boyfriend, and pass your N.E.W.T.s 

And maybe you worry about Draco Malfoy a bit because you know he’s a prat but he just looks like death this year. Neville can’t deny that you’re right and aids your efforts to try and reach out to the Slytherin

Then Dumbledore dies and everything changes. Part of you regrets not doing something more, but part of you is grateful that you enjoyed the moments before, while you still could. 

Again you just want to punch Bellatrix in the face because at this point she’s frankly just annoying

You and Neville go to the funeral and you’re both stoic but gripping the other’s hand tightly. 

“It’s up to us now,” Neville whispers one night while visiting his parents, a common thing for you two recently. “Harry isn’t coming back next year.” You’re furious with Harry for skipping out on Hogwarts, but you know Neville is right, the school needs hope still

You two reopen DA and you start a support group on campus under Snape’s nose for the younger kids who need to feel safe and protected. The first years just break your heart because they’re so young and it’s just not fair that they have to go through their first year of Hogwarts like this

The Room of Requirement becomes a safe haven for anyone and everyone but especially you and Neville who really can’t seem to catch a break. You’re rarely apart when you can help it and have been sleeping curled up with another since the first week

You defend first years ruthlessly from the prats in Slytherin and still try to get through to them that it didn’t matter whose side they were on, this isn’t right and maybe Draco and a few others let you go a few times scot free

You and Neville still watch the stars whenever you can manage and story nights with you become a commonality amongst younger years who really just need a hero or fairytale to believe in and Merlin it does something to Neville when he sees first years curled up in your lap hanging on to your every word or fast asleep

You two are sort of honorary parents that year and all of the professors who still believe in the cause are on your side and giving you two anything you need to give to the younger kids

Patching each other up after “detentions” you decide somewhere along the way that if you ever make it out of this alive you want to do two things: marry Neville and become a Healer because you’ve got a knack for healing spells and potions

The Battle of Hogwarts finally comes and you both are more than ready for it. After helping the first years to safety you and Neville join the fight hand in hand. You’re terrified but you can’t help but smile at him because you remember a shy dorky kid from first year and now he’s a leader and everything you knew he could be

When Harry is pronounced dead Neville looks at you, despaired and kisses you. It’s desperate and fast then he kisses your forehead and runs out of the crowd to face Voldemort alone and you don’t know if you love or hate him in that moment

Luna catches you and boy is she string because you can’t shake her grip. “Watch,” She whispers softly. “He’ll be alright. He’s got a fighter’s spirit,” You want to argue and run out after him, but she’s right, he’s bloody brilliant on his own as you watch through tears

As soon as you realize that Harry isn’t dead you throw Luna off, call Neville’s wand to your hand and you’re back to back fighting off Death Eaters while scolding him about never doing that again “Yes dear,” He laughs. 

Then Nagani coils around your feet, making you fall  and scramble back, wandless. “Neville!” You scream, terrified. He looks around panicked for you and then at the ground. The Sorting Hat was inches from him, a silver handle with red rubies presented. 

He draws the sword and roars, killing the snake. You’re both panting and staring at each other. He helps you up and you pull him into another kiss before there’s an explosion behind you two. “We should...” “Yeah...” you chuckle and take his hand and dash off into the madness again.

The fighting seems to stop as Harry and Voldemort face each other down. You and Neville watch side by side, clinging to each other

As soon as Voldemort is gone you scream in victory and Neville takes you in his arms and you’re kissing again and for one moment everything is okay, because you’re both alive and free and it’s going to be okay. 

Then you quickly go around mending and healing those who need it, not stopping until Neville pulls you away from the infirmary and sets you down on a cot. 

“They need me,” You mumble into his shoulder as he takes a look at your wounds. “And they might appreciate it if you live long enough to help them,” There’s a soft smile on his lips as he patches you up and presses a soft kiss to each of your wounds.

There are too many funerals and too many tears and too many nightmares, but he’s always there beside you. And you’re beside him. You both expect to wake up in the room of requirement with Voldemort still alive, but it never happens.

You and Neville go and visit his parents again and together you tell them both what happens, together, because even if they’ll never understand the words spoken, it’s a reassurance to you and Neville that it happened and everything is over and that you’re alright

Neville still stammers through his proposal to you and you’re laughing and crying and saying yes because Merlin you love him to the moon and back 

You’re visiting his parents alone the day before the wedding and for a shining moment, his mother takes your hand and you see a light in them as she whispers “thank you,” then the light is gone and she’s back to her spaced out look

The wedding isn’t much, just school friends and professors and some family. Neville is in a sweater and you’re barefoot in your backyard with a bouquet of moonlace getting married under the stars

You speak on behalf of Draco at his trial and convince Harry and just about all of your friends as well, because Draco was a victim like the rest of you were

You decide that you want to open a place for all the kids at Hogwarts who need a summer/holiday home because it’s not safe at their homes or they don’t want to go home. Neville kisses you when you suggest it and starts looking into places to make your dream happen 

Harry offers Grimmauld Place and you cry and hug him because it’s perfect and soon all of the alumni from your year are working on fixing up a the place because they agree, there needs to be a safe haven for these kids

When he starts teaching at Hogwarts, you become a part of the staff as a therapist/Healer/on-hand mother figure to anyone and everyone. You don’t want kids like Draco or Neville or Harry to slip through the cracks, and though you can’t take down the house system, you can help kids while they grow up

You and Neville go out and see every new Disney movie in theaters, even before you have kids (and eventually you make your way to America to go to Disney World. It becomes an annual tradition)

You and Neville can’t have biological kids because of your injuries during the war so you adopt: first a little boy Perseus Frank Longbottom, then a little girl a few years later, Persephone Alice Longbottom. 

Every year on the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, you and Neville stop classes that day and tell all of the students the story, hand in hand. Everyone gathers in the Great Hall as the Storyteller and her Hero paint a tale of love and loss and hope.

.

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[sasodei-is-real]

@justfudgeplease @sadgirlshitpost

Hey!))

Thanks for the answers (/^*^)/💙

About their friendship

I still see their relationship as friendship. And that's not sugary nozzles, this is a real relationship.

About Ino's proposal "you're not a bloomed flower yet" and about the fact that she perceived Sakura as someone who needs to be protected

But it was so

Look

Sakura was ridiculed and an insecure child. She generally could not associate a flower with her image. Ino, rather on the contrary, said that Sakura is also a beautiful flower, only it has not yet blossomed. It's true. And there is nothing unpleasant in this. It's better than a simple compliment. Sakura was not self-confident, did not know who she was, often copied Ino's behavior herself and clung to her. She did not perceive herself at all. Ino assured her that she was just as beautiful, and even dispelled the doubts of those in need of human support by disclaiming why she was a little different - "you are not a blossoming flower yet"

About the fact that Ino perceived her as a person who needed to be protected.

1. Apparently she had sincere feelings ( I mean platonic) for Sakura and this has been shown more than once.

2 It's true

Sakura really needed support . Since even then she herself did not have the uncertainty of not having the strength to stand up for herself. And Ino began to slowly perceive her as a sweet little Sakura who needed protection. And even during the chyunina exam she could not hit her friend. Sakura understood this and didn't like it. Of course, you want to be on an equal footing. Ino partly did not perceive her as a competitor because of her position as a protector (leading) and because of her feelings for her.

But that's okay. In real life, everything is not so snotty and cloying. We all relate to a person from the side that we see. And until we recognize them from other sides, we will not change our perception. And this does not interfere with the feelings. And we recognize a person by degrees

That's different. What kinde of Sakura did she see? A notorious and insecure, but loved girl. And it was so. She defended Sakura, and until the moment of maturity, Sakura herself assumed her quiet role. It was nice and comfort role.

They both whre setisfied whit that. Then they begin to grow. Sakura begin to grow. Then an understanding of her own I woke up in her. This is not selfishness, this is a vision of her role in relationships and self-awareness. Not a single person will shield himself as secondary, because each of us has our own consciousness. And when it comes to some secondary importance in friendship, dissonance begins. And of course, something needs to be changed. Show yourself from the other side and change the attitude towards yourself. it is not selfishness. And this was what their relationship needed. And it is not Ino's fault that she began to perceive her as a sweet friend Sakura with a blush on her cheeks and in need of support. Sakura simply did not give a reason to treat herself differently. This is normal.

And in real life there is no stranger when an attitude towards a person is born out of nowhere. This was their story and this is how Sakura showed herself and wanted to show herself for a long time along with Ino. And let's be honest, Sakura was not such an innate strong personality as the same Naruto who was poisoned by the whole village, but he survived it. She gets to strong personality, losing a loved one, enduring life and understanding the importance and need to change her state. And this development of it began from the moment of understanding the self. With the understanding that you are not just an existing anioba, but you are a person. And you must first realize your personal integrity, and then prove it.

So why should Ino have a different relationship to her? She always loved her, but treated her as Sakura herself showed it. Sakura had no reason to just treat herself as a friend. And as soon as she accepted it, she gave Sakura a symbol of her personal integrity with love. I repeat, in the real world there is no miraculous groundless attitude towards a person. Well, you don't wake up to shield an intelligent person until he shows his mind? And still it will not stop to love them.

And after all, the attitude of a foreigner to sakura was formed quite naturally and clearly. Is quite real. We are all so remote. We see a person and begin to perceive him judging by what he showed us, and then we recognize him from other sides. And sometimes it takes a push. The impetus was the rivalry for Sasuke, by whom the way, Ino felt irritated with.

But they both realized that their relationship needed a push. People develop throughout their lives. And if the relationship is dear, each one adapts to the other.

So why did Ino have to shield her strong personality if Sakura didn’t show that side of her and wasn’t even strong then? And Ino just showed herself in their relationship from the side that Sakura could not. It's always like this in a relationship. She got used to the role. She really thought Sakura needed protection.

Moreover, because of her sincere feelings for sakura, Ino saw in her something that sakura did not show and did not see in herself.

That she herself is a beautiful flower. But you don't have to be at a loss and doubt, it's just that it hasn't bloomed yet. But the time comes and it will bloom wonderfully. This was proof of Ino's reverent devotion to Sakura. And the rest is quite natural. She remembered Sakura as her beloved friend always. Later then she took on new facets of her character, which Sakura gave her. All the same, they were small children with no clearly sharply degenerating character. Then it all began to manifest itself with age. They groped for each other again, maintaining friendship.

"Why are youacting all serious?"

This is a life situation associated with changes in the vision of a person in our head in connection with the multidimensional nature of human nature, which cannot be perceived immediately, since we ourselves recognize ourselves all our lives. Proximity check. Sakura and Ino went through this check.

There was a change. Ino never wanted to have power in a relationship. She just naturally treated a loved one judging by her behavior. And as soon as she saw sakura from the other side, she accepted it

And this rivalry helped to embrace their equality, which has always been, but which was blunted by the fact that each currently had a role. The role of a supportive person and a role of protector. In relationships, these roles and needs change always. The relationship between people remains the same.

This is normal. Such situational roles that appear due to the lack of resources for acting for ex. Strong in situations are normal. Sakura then did not have the resource to behave like a strong and tough person. Ino took this role on herself and did not notice how she not only stayed in it, but also became the leading one. Sakura herself wanted it. And then she began to develop

It's just that then they were just kids who took the episodic role as their own. At this age, it is very easy to cling to episodic things, shielding them with their place and designation of individuality. There is no understanding of the search for an integral personality. And just cling to superficial roles and abstinences as a characteristic of one's own personality. And then Sakura just woke up this understanding and at the same time the desire to break out of this one-sided role.

And the inner Sakura that we see in the first season is a confirmation of Sakura's still unstoppable search and acceptance of herself. Two extremes. Sakura pretending to be innocent, sometimes showing an aggressive inner Sakura. After accepting , not without help from Ino, after re-evaluating her behavior and state, after deciding to develop, we see Sakura in shippuden as an integral person. Formed. Without inner Sakura.

And for a moment, Ino even reminded Sakura of how crybaby she was. After all, in her head, Sakura was, in essence, a sweet friend in need of care. In her head, their friendship was normal. She did not even notice that there is a state of leading and driven roles due to the addiction to the one-sided role. In her head, Sakura needs protection. And when this little girl tries to escape, and when she saw the beating of her beloved sakura

and began to cry, of course she did not believe in her independence and, calling her a crybaby, wanted to "keep".

But having achieved a one-on-one draw, Sakura proved her strength. Ino accepted it.

And it's so beautiful that Ino accepted it. Sometimes, in such relationships, people who are leaders begin to love the role of the leader. The ego wakes up in them and they don't want to accept equality. This is selfishness and pride. And it happens very often. Friedship just end there or becones abuse. But this is not the case of Ino and Sakura. Ino accepted Sakura's change by calling her a beautiful blooming flower. And as once she gave Sakura a red armband as a sign of support,

and now she gave her a shinobi armband as a support and acceptance. Only now as an acceptance and support of the new (for Ino) sides of sakura.

Moreover, then they not only became rivals and strengthened their friendship. They sometimes pretended to be really "tough" rivals until adolescence, because this rivalry became a very comfortable and calm, rightful expression of equal treatment of each other. Sometimes it was really rivalry, and sometimes it was just a stable and awkward expression of the attitude towards each other as equal and worthy of rivalry.

With age, they no longer need such an expression of respect and trepidation for each other. They matured and could say it openly. For example, Ino in the novel Sakura Hiden is already openly praising her.

Their friendship continues to this day. It is now a mature and tested relationship. Warm and strong. And now, as an adult, Ino reminds Sakura in Boruto of how strong and beautiful she is when Sakura doubts herself again due to worry about Sarada.

This is a very important part of life and relationships. And thanks to the fact that they both cherished each other, the friendship was preserved

They are both good characters. Most importantly, realistic. You need to be able to analyze and link events. And then everything becomes clear (although if You don't want to analyze there are official novellas, where the relations of the characters are revealed in plain text. You can not analyze their friendship, just read the novella lol😅😂)

But they both develop and have their own motives. They both take care of each other and this has been shown repeatedly.

[shiny-procrastinates]

(re)Watching Magia Record S1 - part 1

Hello and welcome everyone to the first post on this watch-along commentary of the first season of Magia Record! Whether you are just now watching it for the first time, or are re-watching in preparation for the second season, or have only played the game and are curious about the anime (in which case I'd be surprised you even exist) I hope you can have some fun reading these ramblings as I try to put my thoughts into words  (actually turned more into narrating the show) throughout all 12 13 episodes.

Before we can get to it, though, I have a few warnings to give:

1 - As much as I'd love to be able to memory swipe so I can watch this fresh all over again, such an ability is sadly still beyond my grasp. In other words, this isn't my first time watching (or second, for that matter; more like the sixth… or seventh…). That being the case I can't claim that these are my first impressions and it's very likely this commentary will be somewhat biased by my previous knowledge. However, I can guarantee one thing: I will do my best to keep this spoiler-free, so you don't have to worry if this is your first time watching.

(I will, however, be assuming that you have watched the OG series and Rebellion, so beware of that).

2 - Please don't come into this expecting it to be Madoka 2

Also no, this is not a continuation of the OG, it’s an alternate universe spin-off.

This one's for first-time viewers.

Well, ok, this sounds like vague tweeting and I'm kind of whining here, but I have seen a number of peeps on the internet saying that Magia Record is bad only for their argument to boil down to "because it isn't OG Madoka!"

Yeah it isn't. I'm pretty sure there's "Side Story" written somewhere in the title too.

Leaving aside the matter of nostalgia glasses and whether the original series was that much of a masterpiece or not (it's been over five years since I last watched it, so I can't say anything either way.) it seems kind of weird to me that someone would bash a spinoff on the grounds of how close it is to the original. Because here's the thing: to me, the whole point of spinoffs is taking an already existing scenario and putting a spin on it to make something new. That's exactly what makes them fun!

MagiReco didn't need to be a Madoka clone or to try hard and beat the original. That would probably have made it bad, actually. What it did need to do was to create an interesting story using the world set up by the OG Madoka and the other spinoffs, and that, in my opinion, it did, so I hope people can give it a chance and judge it on its own merits rather than only compared to the original. I'm not saying you can't hate it, either, I myself have my own problems with it, it's just that I want to see more reasonable reasons than "it's not the OG so it's bad".

3 - As you can probably already tell from these warnings, these posts are bound to get looong, so I'd recommend setting aside a fair amount of time and getting real comfy if you're gonna read it all. I also don't mind if you just skip ahead and only read the interesting parts, I'm not the internet police.

3.5 - I don't want to use it as an excuse, but I think I should make it clear that English is not my native language, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes and awkward/stilted text. It's hard to tell by myself, so feel free to correct me if you find something.

SO, with that out of the way let’s get down to what’s really important:

Puella Magi Madoka Magica Side Story: Magia Record Episode 1

Whew, now that’s a mouthful.

You know, in my mind I always thought a “side story” was something that happened alongside a “main story”, like another POV, so I’m not sure that’s the most appropriate title, but who am I to judge?

So here we go, we’re off with some beautiful futuristic scenery already, that’s the Madoka series I know.

As the classic Sis Puella Magi plays in the background, two unseen narrators tell us the tale of the so called “magical girls” as we are shown the reality of being one, meeting our first witch for this series.

Risking your life to save a cat doesn’t seem like the smartest of things. Rather, witches eat cats? That’s mean.

No, you really, really don’t. This narration definitely seems made to make everyone who saw the original say this, particularly with how silly are the wishes these girls suggest. 

And hey, look, even this girl who supposedly had her wish granted doesn’t seem very happy.

Hang in there, this is only the first episode.

Man, this scenery really is pretty though.

After an exciting fight with a witch in the train, our girl here silently goes home to find

Whatever the heck this is.

So, our girl here seems to be having strange visions whenever she enters her room, that is very very suspiciously cut exactly in half. Protagonist, you sure have an unique sense of interior decoration.

She goes on with her day, makes two lunchboxes and… oh, it seems she’s all alone.

Is this something you should be telling your own daughter?

Long story short, Iroha’s parents are abroad right now (as is suspiciously the case with many a anime protagonist parents). I actually love the parallel this scene draws with OG Madoka: whereas Madoka’s parents seem responsible and Madoka even looks up to her mom and they’re a happy united family, Iroha comes off as being the responsible one in her family and her parents are gone from the get-go. This way, the lonely atmosphere of the previous scene also starts making sense.

So, it seems like there’s something Iroha wants to do here, and that’s why she decided to stay behind.

Perhaps. Did you wish to save a black cat?

Wow, this teacher is speaking fast. Calm down lady, we’re not here to speedrun the content, geez. Though I guess we should be happy she’s at least giving a proper class, unlike a certain other teacher…

Oh great, it's this guy.

Ok, Iroha doesn’t remember what she wished for and Kyuubei doesn’t know either, although he knows she used her wish for the sake of someone. Kyuubei theorizes that the reason she doesn’t remember might be that not remembering was part of her wish, but Iroha doesn’t think she’d wish for that. I don’t think you’d ever think to wish for something like that until you had to wish for something like that though.

She’s got a fair point. After all, wishing in this universe is basica— the heck is going on in the background there?! O-kaaay…

Iroha was having a weird think-spot mental conversation with Kyuubei there, and missed speedrun teacher’s lecture entirely. Being meguca is suffering.

We get some school motto propaganda, and now we’re on the roof. Oh? Where did all the friendship stuff from the propaganda go? Seems like Iroha’s not following the school spirit. Unless she considers the white weasel a friend, so that’s why she gave him her extra… wait, Kyuubei can EAT? I thought he was some alien machine-like being. H-Huh...

Classmate A: Tamaki-san, maji tenshi!

She’s probably just shy. According to her classmates, Iroha used to be busy doing something or the other, but no one can remember what that is.

Cute. 

But maybe don’t do that somewhere someone could easily walk in on you, Iroha.

Iroha gets a call by the girl from the combat scene from before, whose name is Kuroe. I couldn’t tell from their conversation if they’ve known each other for a while or if they just met each other for the first time in the fight before.

On the train, although she’s the one who called her over, Kuroe remains silent. Iroha, clearly uncomfortable, tries her best to make conversation. Poor Iroha, I know the feeling.

We learn from her that the number of witches around has been decreasing. She comments that being unable to get Grief Seeds is troubling, but it’s better than having witches causing trouble. Poor girl has no way to know just how much of a bad news it is running out of Grief Seeds.

What’s with pink-haired girls and lacking self-esteem? Iroha, are you sure you didn’t wish to save a black and forget that you did? You did save a white one just before.

Kuroe finally decides to talk, and she tells us this:

If you go to Kamihama, you’ll be saved. To anyone that saw the OG, the first thought that comes to mind is that they’ll be saved from their destiny of turning into witches, but it seems Kuroe doesn’t know the truth yet. She just doesn’t want to fight witches anymore. I think.

The train lights up, and…

...this is extremely unsettling considering the truth about witches and the conversation they’re having right now. There’s a lot of this, but this just hits different having watched the original.

Iroha’s not inclined to believe what Kuroe’s saying. Of course, despite not remembering her wish, she’s the type that’s happy with fighting witches if she can save someone, and Kuroe’s not being very convincing either. The whole thing is apparently a rumor spread by some girls who saw a dream that told them that.

Except that Kuroe actually had the dream too.

Like most magical girls, Kuroe made a short-sighted wish, and regrets it. She now wants to be saved, so she’s going to Kamihama.

...or she was, but before that, they’ll have to defeat the witch they let escape the other day, ‘cos she’s back for more.

I actually have so many questions about this scene. Weren’t Labyrinths pocket dimensions? How come this one’s moving in physical space? We know witches themselves move and their Labyrinth goes with that, but I thought it was more, like, the entrance to the Labyrinth moves. Then how come witches can escape if magical girls get carried with their Labyrinth when they move…? Just... just... what?

The answer to all of that is probably “magic”.

Like that, Express Witch Labyrinth crashes right into what seems to be a train station. Labyrinths don’t have brakes, confirmed.

Brutal.

Looks like it’s not only magical girls who have territorial disputes going on. Although it’s nice that they won’t have to fight two witches at the same time, this is not exactly a relief when you consider these two were already struggling with the previous one, and this one just ripped it apart like crab.

As expected, Iroha’s arrows do no damage at all. When all seems lost…

A wild singing mini Kyuubei appears! Is this a shiny?

The singing Kyuubei distracts the witch and jumps towards Iroha, who uses her pro white cat catching skills to grab it, and… something happens. Whatever this Kyuubei did, Iroha’s having some flashbacks now. Sadly, the middle of a battle isn’t the best time to be having a BSOD and, despite Kuroe’s attempts to snap her out of it, they’re sitting ducks right now, a black and a white one.

Thankfully for them, though, they’re not alone in this barrier. This mystery blue haired girl spams flying spears and makes short work of the witch Iroha’s arrows didn’t even scratch earlier. She’s clearly at a whole ‘nother level.

Also, chibi Kyuubei’s gone. Totally not suspicious. Nope. Not at all.

So, from this OP miss get-the-heck-out-of-my-territory, who didn’t even bother saying her name, we learn that not only there is no salvation in Kamihama, there are more, stronger witches, and there are currently no Kyuubei. She gives them the Grief Seeds from the two witches before, and passes on a warning to them. Not the friendliest of magical girls. Though if you consider what happens when you run out of Grief Seeds, one could understand why it’d be undesirable having too many magical girls in the same place.

With this, Iroha and Kuroe take the train back to their town and things are totally awkward again.

Welp, seems like Kuroe doesn’t want to chat anymore, so we’ll have a dream sequence instead.

Forgive my lack of words, but this scene doesn’t need them. This is just… you couldn’t ask for a better representation of what being a magical girl wishing for salvation is like. Everyone has their own reasons, but in the end, having known despair, these girls are desperately clinging to this last hope called Kamihama. It’s almost a pilgrimage.

“Let’s go to Kamihama. We’ll be saved there”

And in the midst of all that is the mysterious girl from Iroha’s dreams.

(the track here, Paradero de Memoria, is also great btw)

Now, with various wishes written all over in the background, we get Kyuubei’s spiel about magical girls. I think this is word-by-word the same from the original too.

We now get to finally know what our protagonist’s wish was.

So Iroha wished to cure her younger sister’s illness, but the sister in question is now nowhere to be found. Worse: everything related to her is gone. Even Iroha, who made a wish for her sake, didn’t remember her existence until now. Oh man, that’s no normal disappearance. What happened? Guess that’s what Iroha will have to find out now.

With that, we conclude the first episode of Magia Record(’s s1)!

This is a really strong first episode in my opinion. It decently introduces our protagonist, sets up the mysteries we will be dealing with from here on and also manages to trace connections with the original, while using the viewer’s previous knowledge to give a whole different impression to some scenes. You wouldn’t be like “hell no” at the rumor there at the start if you didn’t know the truth about magical girls, and I doubt that final scene would hit that hard either. It’s just really good at this and it’ll continue doing that from now on. I love it.

Speaking of the final scene, me having watched the original over five years ago might also be part of it but that is really my favorite scene in Madoka overall. I just really really love that scene. (Seriously, I’ve watched this scene so many times I know it by heart now. Help.)

Alas, I lied, the episode’s not over yet, we still have our classic anime first episode ending-opening to watch. So let’s listen, to Gomakashi:

This logo’s real pretty.

So yeah, pretty standard anime opening. If you pay attention, there are some references to Connect too, what with the selfcest and whatnot. Although I managed to mistake this when I first watched, this one’s actually sung by the trio TrySail rather than ClariS. That’s the VAs for Iroha, Asakura Momo; Yachiyo (the get-out-of-my-territory girl), Amamiya Sora and Natsukawa Shiina, whose character we’ve yet to meet. TrySail has a lot of cool songs, so do check them out if you haven’t already. (free ad)

This time, in fact, the episode is over! Whew, I did say this was going to be long, but not even I thought it’d be this long. By the time this is posted I should have a backlog of these, so my plan is to post one everyday until we are done. I hope you had fun reading this here rant and I’ll be looking forward to meeting you guys again tomorrow, same place, maybe same hour, so we can go on and watch episode 2 together!

(P.S.: I am considering doing a series of posts at a later date comparing the anime to the game, but we’ll see. The first few chapters are fine, but the game is stupidly long, so I feel it’d take a lot of motivation and stamina I’m not sure I have at the moment. There’s also the possibility watching the first arc again would bring back my yt copy-apocalipse grief back and that’d suck, definitely don’t wanna go through that again.)

[gamelpar]

A Second Chance

Red Team origin story.

Jerome never stopped fighting; he just chose to fight for something else.

Characters: Douglas-042, Jerome-092, Alice-130, unnamed Spartan-II trainees, Dr. Haley (mentioned), Chief Mendez (mentioned)

Warnings: a little angsty i guess, death (minor unnamed characters), guilt, sorrow, suffering, my writing at its finest

a fanfic for my lovely Red Team babies and anyone else in the Halo fandom who adores them as much as me. they truly do not have the amount of content they deserve.

edit: read it on ao3

______

A few years had gone since Jerome woke up in an unfamiliar bed in an unknown facility on a planet called Reach, and a woman---Dr. Halsey---had gathered him and a big bunch of other kids his age in a room and told them that they were to become the protectors of humanity and Earth and all her colonies. Him and 74 other candidates  were to be trained to become soldiers of the UNSC.

He’d resisted. Others had as well. Some tried to escape. Jerome tried to escape many times despite knowing Mendez and the other DIs would always be waiting for him, always using more physical force and different tactics to throw him off from attempting again each time. He refused to be intimidated, though, and there were recurring instances where his violence towards the DIs that tried to stop him exceeded way past the limits that other trainees generally didn’t dare attempt to reach. He’d managed to even send a few to the infirmary with injuries that required immediate medical attention. He swore to himself that he would never stop fighting.

However, he eventually came to accept this new life, this new responsibility that was put on him. There were people---Dr. Halsey foremost---who held faith in him. Who believed he was capable of so much more, and what if he was? He didn’t stop fighting, no---he just chose to fight for something else, and in the last months he’d risen quickly among the top candidates.

In the absence of his real family back on Minister, he’d become close and forged a friendship with some of the other trainees, and eventually they became a team---something like family---most of them no longer remembered the family they’d originally come from. They became Red Team, with Jerome as team leader.

------

During a game of Capture the Flag, Jerome and his team faced off against another team in which a certain trainee, Douglas-042, was a member of.

During one of the rounds he’d advanced for Jerome but Jerome had evaded his blows and moves and beaten him, and advancing further Red Team ultimately won the game. The anger that he’d seen blazing in 042’s eyes was something he would never forget. The anger was familiar. He’d felt that same anger himself. It is still there, seething around inside him but he has control over it. Something that 042 yet had seemed to master.

Jerome had watched him sometime afterwards, and it quickly came clear that it was a serious issue of 042 that he struggled to fix and control, and was often berated by Mendez and the other DIs for it.

You have to learn how to control it, Jerome told him once during lunch, after Douglas’ and his team lost another game. It was the first words he said to him. You need to adapt sooner or later. Like I did.

-------

Jerome-092 remembered pain---unexplainable pain, and crying and screaming as his limbs thrashed around and he tried to move, tried to escape. And then nothing.

He woke up high on painkillers; mind fuzzy, body throbbing with pain, skin dry and cold, insides burning like a blazing fire. He couldn’t breathe. Soon there were doctors and nurses all around him.

Washout. That was what they had called him. You have been washed out of the program.

You failed.

They told him his body had rejected the augmentation procedures but that he was lucky. He survived.

Many others didn’t. Jerome was the only member of his team who’d survived. His friends---people he’d known as family---were dead. Their deaths, slow and painful.

Gone.

A knife twisted its way into his heart and he felt broken.

They told him the procedures had crippled him but that he was lucky.

There were others who’d been crippled in worse ways than he had. Those who barely looked human anymore. The knife twisted deeper and waves of guilt, sorrow, anger---emotions Jerome couldn’t distinguish---hit him on and on.

33 survivors fit for duty. 30 dead. 12 crippled, Jerome included, and it all left him with a great sense of failure, guilt of a survivor, a soul and body shattered and wasted.

He’d accepted the new turn of events of being raised and trained as a soldier. He never imagined that something inevitable would happen to render him unfit for that purpose after fully committing his life to it.

He went into rehabilitation and a few weeks went by which were spent performing different types of exercises, scheduled for several medical appointments, undergoing therapy sessions and more, all as part of a scheme created to help him recover from the failed augmentations.

One day Chief Mendez had come to speak to him, curious of how he was holding up. Jerome had told the Chief the truth but didn’t express the sense of guilt and failure he was constantly tortured by. The Chief had nodded in response and told him his rehabilitation was going well. So well, he told him that he would be given a second chance.

A second chance.

A second chance to become a soldier, a second chance to become a Spartan. Become what he had spent his life since he was six training for. Jerome could hardly believe it, mostly because he feared it was false hope. Mendez explained to him that his failed augmentations hadn’t crippled him as severely as it had for others, and that the progress of his rehabilitation had been shown promising enough for a second attempt.

A second chance; he’d do anything for that. If it meant that he had to be re-trained and suffer through re-augmentations, then so be it. He’d dishonor his dead and crippled comrades if he didn’t take it.

Mendez had also told him that he wouldn’t be the only one. There were others like him who would be given a second chance. Jerome felt a bit uneasy by that. It still felt like only days had gone since he’d lost his friends---his whole team, and their deaths were still fresh in his mind. But perhaps building up a new team would give him something else to occupy his mind with.

------

It was during his first day of the retraining in one of the facilities that he had been joined by another trainee. One like him, who’d failed the augmentations but been given a second chance.

Jerome immediately recognized Douglas-042.

His gait was still a little stiff from the failed procedures despite having been through rehabilitation like Jerome, and his skin was paler than ever. His jaw was clenched and Jerome suspected he was still in some pain; Jerome’s own bones still ached and his mind was a little dizzy sometimes.

“Hey,” he greeted him.

“Hey,” Douglas greeted back, his gruff voice carrying a sense of wariness of the current situation. 

“Jerome-Zero-Nine-Two,” Jerome introduced himself. He didn’t know if Douglas recognized him; it had been a long time since their first interaction when Jerome had offered his advice. And the air was tense with uncertainty and uneasiness. Just something small and simple to tone it down, maybe.

“Douglas-Zero-Four-Two,” he replied curtly, scratching his neck. Jerome scratched his arms, the silence pressuring in on them.

They remained quiet for just a few minutes when another trainee joined them. Alice-130.

Jerome recognized her as one of the most capable and determined trainees he’d ever faced off against in training. 130 had quickly become known among the 75 of them as being one of the few who didn’t seem as traumatized by the sudden change in their lives like many others were.

Rather, she seemed to thrive on it. The hard and difficult training had been a series of seemingly impossible challenges for all of them, but 130 had been as determined as always to succeed, seemingly taking each lesson she was taught to the heart. Jerome held no doubt that out of the three of them, she’d been first to embrace the new path presented in her life while Jerome had whole-heartedly refused to accept it and Douglas had struggled with the grave differences his new life presented in contrast to his earlier.

She was driven by her yearning for action and lived for the combat and challenges she faced. Never one to be driven and blinded by anger.

He admired her for that.

They introduced themselves to her and she did the same, before things went quiet again. The air was still as tense as before.

“So…” Douglas tried but quickly trailed off. None of them really knew what to say or do. It was scary to believe that they’d been given a second chance when the program had labeled them as washouts.

But they had that in common. They were washouts, who failed the augmentations, who were given a second chance while wondering what had gone wrong, why they failed the first time, why they survived when so many others of them didn't. It wasn’t fair.

Life hardly ever was.

Jerome fiddled with his fingers on his arm. The three of them would supposedly become the new composition of Red Team, and he would again serve as team leader. He better get comfortable leading a team consisting of members he hardly knew.

“They gave us a second chance,” he began carefully, eyeing Alice and Douglas, attempting to draw out a response from either of them to better understand their take on the situation.

“Neither of us wouldn’t be here if that wasn’t the case,” Alice replied hesitantly, her strained voice betraying the hopeful excitement glimmering in her green eyes.

Jerome took a deep breath; at least he wasn’t alone in this.

This had to be a second chance.

He’d lost people he’d considered family and he missed them every day dearly. The knife was there again and twisted into his heart. There was pain and guilt. Douglas and Alice probably felt the same. They’d lost something as well. The three of them had been through the same events with similar losses. The three of them were the same.

It was a second chance.

“Yeah,” Douglas said warily after a moment, then quickly cleared his throat and spoke again, this time with more confidence and optimism. “It has to be.”

“Despite everything,” Alice continued, her voice a little stronger.

Jerome nodded. They hardly knew each other; they were still in pain but despite everything they have a second chance here. They should take it.

“A second chance,” Alice voiced his thoughts. “I’d take it.”

“Yeah, me too,” Douglas said in agreement and Jerome nodded his. A second chance.

Alice let out a breath and when she spoke next her voice didn’t sound as strained as before, her tone more that of confidence and determination. “Then let’s make sure we make it count.”

Make it count. A second chance to create something for what each of them had lost.

Don’t waste it.

Jerome no longer felt as wasted as he did before.

“Agreed,” Douglas replied, eyes shining now with the same determination and he rolled his shoulders a bit to loosen them up. “I’d say we better get started then, eh?”

Alice nodded at his proposal, challenge burning in her eyes.

Jerome looked at them. Each of them had suffered and lost much but it didn’t mean it was the end of things. They didn’t know each other well, but that would change.

It was a new beginning, maybe.

“Yes,” he said, loud and clear with confidence. A second chance for something new. “Let’s get started.”

[cinematicnomad]

1, 7, 25 for the fanfic end of year ask :)

001. favorite fic you wrote this year i have a soft spot for take my hand (take my everything) which was the first fic i wrote this year! and kind of the first step back into writing creatively on something new that wasn’t the 7 year monster sterek fic. also my first foray into 9-1-1 fic and was just a lot of fun! 

007. longest completed fic you wrote this year the longest fic i wrote was my second for the year! so show me (family) wound up being around 16k+ for 9-1-1 which kind of burst out of me over the course of one 48 hour window unlike take my hand which took a few weeks to crank out. 

025. a fic you read this year you would recommend everyone read SO MANY FICS DUDE!!! i’m gonna rec a couple, some that i re-read this year and some that i discovered for the first time, all from a variety of fandoms. BUT heads up, you didn’t specify a fandom so it’s gonna be a little scattered. also someone else sent me this same question but specified 9-1-1, so i’m gonna reserve those recs for that ask. GET READY!!

and this, your living kiss by opal_bullets (7/7 | 84k+ | M) destiel; AU: college/university; john winchester’s A+ parenting; angst with a happy ending

only a very few people in the world know that the celebrated and reclusive poet jack allen is just kansas mechanic dean winchester, a high school dropout with a few bucks to his name. not that it matters anymore; life has left him so wrung out he never wants to pick up another pen.

until, that is, a string of coincidences leads dean to auditing a poetry course with one dr. castiel novak. the professor is wildly intelligent, devastatingly handsome...and just so happens to be academia’s foremost expert on the poetry of jack allen.

note: i discovered this fic back in the pre-pandemic times of feb 2020 and i’ve read this fic TWICE since, leaving a lengthy comment each time. the poetry in the fic itself is stunningly gorgeous and i have a habit of reading it out loud to myself while reading bc it begs to be heard. this fic is seriously beautiful and makes me want to read all the poet!dean au’s out there in the world. unfortunately there aren’t that many so i just keep coming back to this well. i don’t think i can express enough how much i love this fic. 

lost time by ARCurren (105/105 | 350k+ | T)  bransonxsybil; AU: canon divergent; outsider POVs; original characters; slow burn

the story of a free spirit who was asked to give up the man she loved for a system she didn’t believe in and what happened next. AU after 3.04. 

note: did i think, when i stumbled across this fic years ago, that it would wind up being one of my all time favorites that i return to time and again to re-read? never. did i re-read it for like the dozenth time this year?? 110%. this fic is everything i want from fanfiction—it’s beautifully written, expands on canon, and shows me all the hidden moments the cameras never did (not to mention it’s historically accurate and delves deep into irish politics of the time). the first third or so of this fic is all about tom and sybil’s slow burn romance at downton, but the fic really bursts into its own when we follow the two to dublin and get introduced to all of the author’s deliciously detailed oc’s. heads up warning: this fic was never officially completed, though the final chapter is a beautifully written summary of the final arc of the fic. even so, it’s fucking worth it. 

misfire by mothlights & unpossible (6/6 | 28k+ | T) sterek; time travel; angst with a happy ending; alive hale family; magic; alternating POV

“the debt must be repaid,” she says, and it has the weight of a vow. the words resonate through him, ringing through his ribcage and the bones of his jaw, and stiles loses his breath and maybe his grip on reality because she draws herself upright and where there had once stood a supermodel-level MILK now there is galadriel’s much hotter older sister, a presence of unmistakable power in their ordinary, smells-vaguely-of-thai-takeout hallway. 

“oh shit,” stiles says. 

note: this fic is the first in the misfire ‘verse and i need you to understand that it literally broke me when i binge read these fics a month or so ago. i am a sucker for a solid time travel fic especially bc there are such few good ones in fandom. but this gets at the heart of it all by exploring the idea of stiles getting the chance to save derek’s family and taking it...after he and derek are romantically together in his true timeline and then actually dealing with the ramifications of how that alters everything and how stiles survives in this new present where he and derek are virtual strangers. everyone should definitely read this, but you should also know that i fucking sobbed while reading the sequel (which also has a happy ending, but really digs deep into the nitty gritty angst of the repercussions). 

map of the world by seperis (11/11 | 154k+ | M)  destiel; end!verse; alternate universe; canon divergent; original characters; slow burn

the world’s already over and they’re already dead. all they’re doing now is marking time until the end. 

note: look, if you don’t know about down to agincourt by @seperis, what are you doing with your life?? the series is over 1M+ words so far, the fic author is on book 4 out of a planned 8, and it’s fucking phenomenal. i know i’ve tagged a couple of these recs as slow burn but...this is the slowest slow burn to ever burn. canon!dean travels back into the end!verse timeline just as lucifer kills dean and somehow cas made it out alive and has to keep dean safe while he learns to become his end!verse counterpoint. the world building in this series is intense and i cannot recommend it enough. i’m still in the midst of my re-read bc it’s SUCH an endeavor but i highly recommend it to everybody. 

invictus by ellanasan (116/116 | 355+ | M) hayffie; au: alive abernathy family; pre-hunger games; canon prostitution; slow burn

“so then, before i can even think about doing something stupid like trying to stab him with his fucking golden paperknife, he gives me a choice, see?” haymitch continued, almost detached. “either i play nice like all the other victors or he’ll kill my family. i could either become his puppet—greatest punishment he could give me, according to him—or i could become the example.”

AU in which haymitch’s family lives.

note: hello, have you ever wondered what the hunger games series would be like if haymitch’s family were alive? i fucking hadn’t until 2 years ago when i stumbled across this fic and fell head over heels in love with this ship. @ellanainthetardis is my go to hunger games fic writer for anything exploring canon and i’m obsessed with anything she writes about the OG victors pre-canon (finnick, joanna, chaff, etc). this fic is just 300k+ exploring that world and all the intricate details of how cruel the games could really be. HIGHLY recommend. i definitely re-read it this fall when i needed a pick me up.

don’t know what i’m supposed to do (haunted by the ghost of you) by crazyassmurdererwall (1/1 | 30k+ | T) sterek; canon divergent; angst with a happy ending; ghosts; stiles POV

stiles sees dead people. yep. seriously.

(he’s got this. he’s totally got this. so what if one of them is derek’s mom?)

note: did you know that @crazyassmurdererwall is one of my all time favorite people? and that she’s wicked talented? and that in our spare time she’ll send me a billion fic ideas that are amazing and i get to hear all the intricate details of her plot bunnies? but i digress. this fic is one of my all time fave sterek fics i’ve re-read it sooo many times. there’s just something about the heartache and stiles’ insecurity and the way he tries to shoulder it all on his own. and then there’s alli’s brilliant writing, the way she weaves through a scene and paints a picture just so and manages to tug at your heart strings with her precise word choice. there’s some amazing world building in this fic as it explores this other facet of the supernatural that canon teen wolf never touched upon, and i’m so grateful for that bc alli is the only one who should be allowed to write about ghosts and teen wolf together. 

lagavulin and guinness by snarfle (10/10 | 163k+ | explicit) hartwin; slow burn; PTSD; suicidal thoughts; graphic depictions of violence; domestic abuse

plenty of people had looked down on eggsy throughout his life. he had gotten fairly used to it. didn’t mean it was fair, but he knew how these things worked. what really sucked was that the new arthur was worse than the old one.

“eggsy grimaced. he didn’t know how to explain to harry—who seemed like he hadn’t been discriminated against a day in his life—that the new arthur kept giving him what amounted to suicide missions, and that he was currently bleeding out in a warehouse because of the deliberately bad intel she had given him.”

also featuring: dean is harder to get rid of than eggsy thought, his mum is going off the deep end, there are way too many nefarious plots in play, and eggsy is really beginning to wish that harry would stop holding his hand and kiss him instead.

note: look, i know i recced this literally less than a week ago but i ALSO stayed up til 5AM re-reading this last night and it was a-m-a-z-i-n-g. i was on a bit of a kingsman kick earlier this year, so i’ve actually re-read this fic TWICE so far in 2020. i will give you a serious warning in that this fic delves deep into domestic abuse through the lens of a variety of different relationships. it also explores the potential for abuse in hartwin, bc this fic is one of the few that actually commits to the fact that they’re literal spies who murder people. actively. a lot. but seriously, this fic is one of my fave in the fandom and i STRONGLY recommend it. 

waste of breath by bryrosea (1/1 | 22k+ | M) loganxveronica; canon compliant; missing scenes; navy; past child abuse

logan echolls, the nine years, and the navy.

note: bryrosea has an obscene number of amazing logan and veronica fics (her canon divergent series stay with me is another i re-read this year), but i’ve found myself returning to this fic a lot over the years. i’m a sucker for canon compliant fics that explore the missing scenes in between canon and this fic hits all the right buttons by diving deep into how logan echolls went from being a trash fire at hearst college at the end of s3 to being a decorated navy pilot by the movie. it explores logan seeking out therapy and making a life for himself that he can be proud of, all while pining after the girl who got away. and bc this author is amazing, she followed it up with a sequel from veronica’s point of view in the series done by only me. 

the law of equivalent exchange by awed_frog (8/8 | 60k+ | M) destiel; POV castiel; pre-canon; post-canon; canon compliant; immortality; reincarnation

“and what’s the point of it?”

“of love? there isn’t one. loving is its own purpose.” 

note: i mean??? i don’t really know what to say except that this is one of the truly most beautiful fics i have ever read. it follows castiel through time as he meets different reincarnations of sam and dean across history and falls ever more deeply in love. it is achingly tender and so ecstatically written that i die just thinking about it. and that summary? i mean. holy fuck break my heart why don’t you? i don’t know how i missed out on this fic for so long since it was published in 2015 but i only learned about it for the first time back in july and it was. life changing?? when the fic finally reaches the canon timeline and he meets THIS dean it’s peak yearning. 10/10 will read again.

ahead in the count by elisela (17/17 | 50k+ | E) sterek; AU: sports; pitcher!stiles; teacher!derek; long distance relationship; getting together

“yankee fan,” derek says, laughing when stiles makes a disgusted face. “the bronx bombers, stiles, you can’t be a new yorker and—”

“stop talking right now,” stiles sighs, shaking his head. “i can’t believe i still want to kiss you after that,” he says, pulling derek in by his coat. “this is making me rethink everything.” 

“i’ll never watch them again,” derek promises, and stiles laughs against his mouth. 

or: stiles is a starting pitcher for the NY mets when he meets and falls in love with derek. derek doesn’t know. 

note: i read SO MANY of @elisela’s 911 fics this summer, which i loved, and then she got into teen wolf and started writing sterek and i just about died. this fic is amazing, one of my fave sterek AU’s that i’ve read in years. it’s just the right amount of drama and angst and fluff filled with all the joys of miscommunication and character relationships that makes reading sterek such a joy. reading this fic and finding out eli needed fic recs pushed me to dive back in to reading sterek fics for a bit this fall so i can say with the utmost authority that this is one of the best i’ve read in a long time. 

i used to think one day we’d tell the story of us by notequitegucci (2/2 | 32k+ | M) gendrya; alternate universe—modern setting; outsider POV; friends to lovers; friends to lovers

9 times a stark encounters gendry + 1 time he meets the starks.

note: again, this is the first in a 2 part series titled love me like you do that explores arya and gendry’s dynamics together through the point of view of her family. game of thrones ended last year with a whimper but i keep returning to the gendrya tag on ao3 to seek out new, amazing content and also to re-read some old favorites. i can’t remember if i came across this for the first time last year or this one, but i’ve read it and re-read it more times than i can count since and i love it more than i can describe. i’m a total sucker for outsider POV fics and my biggest pet peeve in canon is the fact that none of the stark’s ever found out that arya and gendry had a history together. this modern au fic almost makes up for it by giving me a gendry encounter with every family member and then the big reveal. it’s peak content. 

theeeeeeese recs got a little away from me. i wasn’t originally intending on adding lengthy notes to each entry but ... oh well!! these are all amazing so please enjoy. 

fanfic end of the year asks

[wordupcomics]

I love your AU and it fascinates me how you have handled each character's arc of emotions.

But I wonder how you came up with this great idea? Or what was your main idea or draft and did you end up posting this AU?

Short answer: ADHD and time

I’ve watched Wordgirl since I was a kid, but I didn’t get REALLY into it until I was a sophomore in high school. I struggled to focus on my work in school, I always wanted to focus on whatever hyperfixation I had at the time, which was always a cartoon. A trick I used in school was to use my hyperfixation to help me focus, this often meant pretending one character was struggling to get the same homework done that I was, and that another character was helping them. I also tended to lean towards obsessing over more familial relationships in shows.

So with Wordgirl, my hyperfixation usually focused on ToBecky. While I loved the ship, focusing on it meant no familial relationships to obsess over and tbh neither character would struggle in any of the subjects that I struggled in. This ended up with the idea of Becky and Tobey being older and having to help their child in school. From here I wondered how it would be if Wordgirl had a child with dyslexia. These ideas turned into Theo. I think Julie emerged from there as a foil to her brother.

Watching "The Incredibles" and "Meet the Robinsons" in the same weekend while i was on a Wordgirl hyperfixation had a big impact on this too 😂

Understand that the characters are thoroughly thought out because this all started when I was 16...I’m currently 24. This idea is 8 years old now. Over eight years this story has changed so much. Originally Becky and Tobey were going to date as teenagers, and that was changed because I didn't think it was realistic for several reasons. It was basically like "Oh, Tobey is a good guy now? He gave up villainy last week? Suddenly I trust him and think he's cute." Definitely glad I made them friends first and made Tobey work hard to be good for years before they started being a couple. Originally Bob wasn't supposed to leave, but to be completely honest I left him out of so much that it was like "good grief is he even here??" and I just took advantage of it and never changed it because it added more depth to Bob as a character and more depth to his and Becky's friendship. I went through several different scenarios as to why he'd be gone too. Originally some villains from WordGirl had gone good, while others hadn't, and I later decided it was more impactful to have them all be good now. Because The Incredibles was part of my inspiration, originally there was going to be a law against being a hero like in that movie, that was changed because I didn't want to copy the movie.

And it's still changing! Sometimes I have "aha" moments for characters that make me change stuff last minute because I think it's a better idea. A great example of this is one of my villains. I can't say too much about them because it's supposed to be a twist when they are introduced as the villain, but originally they were supposed to be a reference to one of the original Wordgirl villains, and acted a lot like the character they referenced. When I tried to plan out the story they are introduced in...something just wasn't working. Last minute I had this idea that would make their introduction more interesting, their role as a villain more interesting, and draw more parallels with the villain they were supposed to be based on. But in order for it to work I had to completely redo their personality, otherwise it wouldn't make sense. Personality wise, this character is now practically unrecognizable from the character they were supposed to reference. Plus now they have a new arc I have to incorporate into my grand story. I'll give you a pre hint as to who they were originally meant to reference, since it's no longer obvious: They are a HUGE fan of this now former villain they were supposed to be based off of. They express this in their debut story. Honestly them being a fan of this villain, and how they commit crime are probably the only things that stayed after I re-hauled their character.

And I think it's interesting you are fascinated already...because I've hardly posted anything of the official comics. You've only seen or read where these characters have been since Wordgirl's end. You haven't even seen where they are going. And how I came up with all that is...another post entirely... All that said there are other future aus in the Wordgirl fandom that are also really good! Seems like I’ve been seeing more people think of future aus which is awesome! One that comes to mind is the one by @animation-is-my-jam It’s so good and well thought out and their art is so cute and they have so many fun OCs! Definitely check them out if you like mine!

[trickstercaptain]

POSEIDON’S TOMB  /  ‘YOU CUT ME YOU CUT THE BOY’ DRABBLE

tl;dr; here i am torching the entire canon version of this scene nearly four years later. it’s actually been a creative urge of mine for a while to revisit this part of dmtnt, but i finally got around to it after a little nudge from @lighthouseborn and therefore this is specifically dedicated to hannah <3

                                                               ~ ~ ~

          If Henry uncharacteristically barrelling towards the two of them hadn’t been the first sign of something being amiss, then there were two others: the boy’s speed, and his stance. Henry’s tuition with the blade was something of a patchwork of several different influences back on Shipwreck, one of which being Jack’s own ( whenever the boy wasn’t more content to scrappily solve an altercation with his fists, which was always his go-to preference ). While not being the superior swordsman himself, and having adapted his form and bent the rules of the engagement over the years to suit his own whims, Jack knew the boy’s approaching stance right now was one of somebody who had been schooled in the art of precision fencing for years ---- more akin to the boy’s father or even the man with whom Henry shared a name. It most certainly was not, could not, did not belong to the lad who he’d had to chastise on several occasions for holding a sword more like a blunt instrument than a tool --------------

          No, Jack knew who this was. He didn’t know how it was possible ( when did he ever? ), but he knew.

          The next few seconds passed by in a blur. Jack could only remember drawing his own blade, shoving Carina aside, and throwing himself forward ( in a rash move that would no doubt win him both Henry and William’s approval ) to meet Henry’s first strike with a shattering clash that rung out throughout the length of Poseidon’s tomb.

          The fact of the matter was that Captain Salazar was a much better swordsman than him. He also had the benefit of years on Jack if he was indeed using Henry as some sort of vessel, as well as a seething, roiling anger at the supposed injustice dealt to him that would see his stamina extend further than it might have done otherwise. These were all the things that Jack was sizing up as he went through the motions, parrying each blow as it arrived, trying to figure out his strategy to buy Carina enough time to get herself over to the trident and solve the final part of her diary.

          And then there were the things not to size up, but to swallow down and put to the back of his mind. That this was Henry staring him down with the look of a man who had wanted him dead for decades. That this was a familiar, always warm, always loving set of brown eyes now regarding him with such contempt. It was difficult to meet them and not contemplate the less rational questions of the moment. How Salazar had accomplished this. How Jack might even start to think about reversing it. Whether there was a chance in Hell that the Trident might in fact help matters, not make them worse.

          How he was planning to live with himself should the unimaginable happen.

         The last question was enough to re-align his thoughts like tacking a sail back to windward. Emotion made you vulnerable to mistakes and sloppiness. Much like Salazar’s anger exposed his own weak spots. And, as Jack raised his blade to block another blow and, in doing so, push the boy away from him, he spotted the opening.

          It was a mere flesh wound, a nick across the boy’s cheek in the hope that it would enlighten him as to the limits of this particular brand of magic. But perhaps that in itself had been too great a risk to take given the potential consequences. Perhaps it was too reckless. Too callous. Particularly when the halt in Salazar’s counter-strike, and the words he levelled back at him made the blood turn to ice in his veins.

                  “ You cut me, you cut the boy, Jack. ”

          Jack faltered, and Salazar advanced. With every frantic block and step backwards, all he could focus on was the way his freshly-inflicted cut blended in with the mottled, cracked flesh on the side of Henry’s face. On the side of Salazar’s face. Despite the confirmation that was lodging itself somewhere in the levelheaded part of his mind that the two of them were now one, now connected, the conclusion he subsequently reached of this making the Spanish captain human was meaningless. Not when he could see that fresh mark on that face, and could feel the revulsion rising in him that he was the one to put it there.

         Jack didn’t care how fallible this made him. Not when the fallibility was Henry’s. So, that left him no choice but to try a different approach, and summon up the guile from somewhere to make it convincing.

        “ Shame that he won’t let you kill me. ” Said with much more confidence than he felt as he planted his feet and met Salazar’s blade with another loud clang. Leaning towards the gap between their crossed blades, Jack lowered his voice. “ He’s still in there, Capitán, Kicking and screaming and attempting to thwart all that you’ve fantasised about for years. ” At least, he hoped that Henry was in there still. If he was, then he most certainly was fighting, and perhaps that meant that this assumption wasn’t entirely --- well, an assumption. “ Reckon that makes it two against one, and I don’t fancy your odds on this one, mate. ”

         It seemed to anger him. Salazar --- or rather, Henry ---- pushed Jack away with his blade and, with a cry of frustration, renewed his offensive. The back of Jack’s boot came into contact with a coral rock, and as he carefully stepped around it, he only just managed to parry the force of his opponent’s next blow. “ Did he make me do this, Jack Sparrow? ” He swung again, with even more power this time --- and for the first time Jack caught sight of the man’s crew at the ocean’s edge, waiting on both sides of where it had parted to reveal Poseidon’s tomb. “ Or this? ”

          The distraction was the first time Jack had let his guard down. It took a moment for the injury to register: a slash from just below the nape of Jack’s neck to his collarbone, but when he spotted the blood soaking through his shirt and waistcoat the potential severity of it became clear. How many times had he aimed for the same area, hoping to sever the vein that would swiftly put an end to a fight? Of all the people to think of in that moment, Jack saw Robby Greene’s face in his mind’s eye, and the warning he’d given him after his first duel to the death.

          If that had gone an inch or two deeper, you’d have been lying there dead, right beside Christophe.

         Was this how he would come full circle? Certainly, in this case, he very much hoped that it hadn’t gone any deeper ---- and for now, the adrenaline was stopping the wound from doing little more than stinging at the spray from the rushing ocean beside them. The more concerning matter at present was his own laboured breathing, in comparison to Henry who was barely breaking a sweat. He was half-tempted to glance over his shoulder and verbalise his frustration at being the only one here to pull his weight. Has Carina not worked the bloody thing out yet?

           Whatever was going on behind him, Jack was running out of options for the problem in front.

           “ Then why make it a fight at all? ” He noticed that Salazar’s ( or was that Henry’s? ) gaze was, for the moment, preoccupied with the growing bloodstain on his shirt, giving Jack enough space to briefly catch his breath. To glance around him. To look down at the lightly bloodied sword in his hand and debate his next choice. One that he should have made hours ago, when the Pearl had first encountered the Silent Mary and Salazar’s crew. One that, until now, he’d been too cowardly to make. “ All you’d have to do is let Henry go and I might just stop resisting altogether. ”

            “ No, no no no, Jack, don’t you see? ” There was a peculiar softness in the way the words were spoken, an intimate whisper between the two of them that was the most he’d sounded like Henry since this had started. Salazar didn’t raise his sword to strike again. Instead, he crossed the scant distance between them, and pressed his ( Henry’s ) hand into his blood stained waistcoat. Jack hissed, and fought against the black dots dancing around in his vision, but otherwise didn’t say a word. “ Don’t you see? ”

           Jack might have been forgiven for thinking that there was something kind in Salazar’s expression, then, but it didn’t last. The look on Henry’s face quickly morphed back into rage, and a hand tightened with surely supernatural strength around Jack’s throat.

           As things went, it wasn’t the first time that someone had tried to strangle him, but having had experience of such things never made it easier to resist the urge to struggle. Ringed fingers rose in a desperate attempt to claw the hands ( Henry’s hands ) off of his neck and release his airway, but it ended up not being his efforts at all that spared him. Instead, it was the loud, rushing noise of the Trident being released from its perch; loud enough, and promising enough, it seemed, for Salazar to momentary abandon any desire he may have had to finish Jack off.

            Besides, it wasn’t as if Jack was in much condition to resist being finished off even if he’d wanted to. As the air rushed back into his lungs, so too did the sea floor rush up to greet him. And only when he’d finally pulled himself up into a sitting position, using one of the rocks on the seabed as an aid, could he finally turn his gaze on the commotion at hand: Captain Salazar picking up the Trident, and Henry seeming to slide out of his control and physically collapse at his feet.

      ��   Carina was nowhere to be seen, but he knew where, or indeed whom, the focus of the Trident’s ire was about to be directed towards. He also knew that, physically speaking, he was just about spent.

          He could have rushed to Henry’s aid, but he didn’t fancy his chances of being intercepted before he got there. Or whether he’d even like what he found.

          All he could do, really, was wait. And it took but mere seconds before Salazar’s eye was once again trained on him ---- though this time, more importantly, looking much more reassuringly like his unnervingly ghostly self.

          Jack steeled himself. You’d better have a bloody plan, Carina. He drew a deep breath, carefully pulled himself to his feet, and had just enough time to slip the girl’s diary under his waistcoat. Just below the bleeding wound. Just above his breastbone.

           One final gambit.

[tortoisesshells]

Esteemed Madam! ⭐ for their dance at the ball, please?

Equally Esteemed and Honorable Madam, you may indeed ask, for that Sequence remains a Particular Favorite of mine.

(let me preface this by admitting there was a brief moment of insanity where I thought, huh, I wonder if I should stick the ball on the Garland for the hell of it before realizing that would never work, logistically, and having both learned to polka and tried to teach the fundamentals of contra dancing on the deck of a tall ship during one of the less mis-spent parts of my youth, I really couldn’t imagine where you’d safely stick more than one or two sets at a time. so that went by the board, with me sadly mourning a sequence that would have been impossible but also deeply Aesthetique.)

The Dance! This started as an Austen pastiche, and by golly, The Dance had to happen and it had to be good. At one point, The Dance was going to be the minuet, but since Nellie’s opening a ball for the first time in her life, she’s more concerned with dancing flawlessly than interesting banter. And given that Lieutenant Nibley’s recent actions have made the squadron even more controversial, Norrington’s got to be very careful here, too. So, not much room for revelations or revealing conversations - scratch that, and back to the drawing board, until I hit on the much-later-in-the-ball sequence.

There’s a particular dance I had in mind for this, and for a few different reasons: Mr. Beveridge’s Maggot. First, it appears in a 1695 edition of Playford’s The Dancing Master, so I felt okay using it in a 1738 ball. Second, this is an Austen pastiche, and a version of this dance features at the Netherfield Ball in the ‘95 P&P. Third, “maggot” doesn’t actually refer to larvae, but a whimsy or a fancy (obsolete definitions sure are fun!) - but the double meaning allowed me to stick in an atrocious pun AND a probably-obnoxious allusion to Viola-as-Cesario’s speech to Orsino in The Twelfth Night (which Norrington referenced earlier anyway) about Viola-as-Cesario’s imaginary sister, who would not express her love, and died from the grief it gave her. Surely a speech about love from someone pretending to be someone they aren’t has nothing whatsoever to do with the plot! Surely said speech being about the hazards of bottling up one’s emotions is not relevant to Nellie “I can and will avoid my grief and it will absolutely just go away!” Treat and James “if I refuse to acknowledge my emotions I don’t actually have them!” Norrington!

But in all seriousness, I wanted the Dance to give Nellie and Norrington individually a better idea of who the other is, and both of them vaguely refer to parts of their life that helped turn them into the people they’ve become. Norrington alludes to his experience of being brought aboard ship as a five year-old by his father while editing out the terrifying parts; in response, Nellie, who is horrified by the idea of a five year old being intentionally stuck in a place where they could be shot, makes a crack about not being trusted with anything but the most menial of tasks as a girl of five. Nellie doesn’t know about Norrington’s (debatably canonical) abusive father & the time where Jack Sparrow’s own father saved kid!Norrington from drowning (and doesn’t understand why Norrington’s so relieved that the most recent time he’s nearly drowned, he owes a life debt to a “respectable matron”. Irony is a cruel mistress.); Norrington doesn’t quite pay attention enough to wonder why the well-to-do and respected Mrs. Elinor Treat’s childhood included more manual labor than one would have expected if she had married into the same class she was born in.

By the same token, both of them pick up on - but don’t note out loud - something about the other: Nellie realizes partway through that Norrington has painful associations with this particular dance (even if, in his internal narration, he stops short of admitting to himself who he had been dancing with that makes the memory difficult, in the same way that Nellie never uses her late husband’s first name to refer to him), though she doesn’t follow through to wonder why on earth he’s in the set with her now. Norrington, via an observation from Groves (which matches up with a previous encounter with her), picks up on Nellie’s nervous/upset tell while she’s speaking to Mr. Loring, but refrains from admitting as much to her when she asks how he knew she needed an out. And therein lies the problem! The better Norrington knows Nellie, the more of a threat he becomes to her economic survival; the better Nellie knows Norrington, the better equipped she is to try and stay one step ahead of him - although she does have a deep-seated sense that using his grief against him is a bridge she doesn’t want to cross.

And so by the end of it, they’re both greater threats to each other’s goals, though only Nellie is aware of it.

One last thing I realized while re-reading this section! Norrington thinks to himself “the flash of her earrings must have caught his eye” when he realizes Nellie’s in a conversation she wants out of, but doesn’t feel she can prudently escape. This ended up being a dangling reference to a cut segment - initially, Nellie was going to narrate the start of the ball, and Norrington the end of it, and so I had a long section about Nellie getting dressed, where Nellie hesitates to put her earrings in because they were a gift from her late husband. The earrings are pearl drops, which aren’t exactly “flashy” in the same way that, say, gems (real or paste) would have been; implying that Norrington has been paying closer attention to her than either he realizes or is admitting to himself. Whoops.

[send a ⭐ for director’s commentary on fanfic]

[gumnut-logic]

6. Which scenes did you cut, and which were added in Gentle Rain?  (for @janetm74 )

Okay, I can cheat somewhat with this one as I routinely keep a file for chunks of text I cut out of fics while writing. So I actually have a few of the scenes this question asks about (probably a good thing since my memory is useless).

One thing I must say is that the clincher scene where Virgil collapses in Thunderbird Two in Chapter Twelve didn’t originally happen there. I knew he was going to collapse from about Chapter Two or Three onwards, it was a target scene I was writing towards. However, he was originally supposed to collapse in Two’s hangar and be found later. The problem with that was the condition he developed (which evolved as I wrote) would have killed him if that happened. He needed someone there to save his life (sorry, Gords). So he didn’t make it back to Tracy Island before he found he couldn’t breathe.

As for scenes cut out, there were several, most of which don’t make much sense reading them now and some are just lines, but here are a few.

One of the initial challenges was finding a way to get Em and Scott to actually meet beyond the initial incident. Initially, I had Scott eager to meet her, but realised pretty quickly that the eldest Tracy wasn’t going to be that easy.

Scene: Em’s hospital room shortly when Kayo initially introduces herself.

The woman opened her mouth to answer, but was interrupted by a beep. She sighed. “Yes, I am Kayo. Please excuse me.” And she turned away, holding her wrist up.

There was a flicker of light and a familiar voice spoke. “Kayo, have you found her yet?”

“Scott, have patience.”

“Kayo-“

“You are aware that she can hear everything you are saying?”

Em had to smirk.

“I would be if you had told me.”

“I would have told you if you hadn’t interrupted me before I could say anything. And no I haven’t asked her yet.”

“Kayo-“

“Patience, Scott.” And there was the click of an ended transmission. Kayo turned to face Em again. “My apologies. As you can hear, he is recovering well.”

“Still an argumentative brat apparently.”

“It’s one of his strengths.” She took a step back towards the bed. “He was wondering if you would be willing to meet with him. He wants to thank you for everything you did.”

Em blinked. “What?” She shifted her shoulders. “Um, er, okay.” Oh so confident and professional of you there, Emaline. She kicked herself internally.

But then she realised exactly what she now looked like. She bit her lip.

-o-o-o-

Em initially reacted completely differently to Kip’s sudden presence in the Tracy’s living room.

“What you be doin’ here, honey.”

“It’s Em, as you well know. And I’m here as a guest. What are you doing here?”

“Same.”

And the conversation ended there.

The silence was ominous. The Tracys in the room stared at each other.

Alan arrived on the scene a few moments later having secured Tracy Two. He stared at the tableau. “Okay.” He held up his hands. “I’m just going to back away quietly.”

Penny stepped around Em. “Crispin, dear, have a seat. Emaline, I advise you to do the same.” The aristocrat walked calmly into the sunken lounge and took her own chair. “Alan, do be a dear and find us some tea. I am absolutely parched.”

Alan appeared quite happy to play Parker if it would get him out of the room. Grandma and Kip took a seat together almost directly opposite from where Em came to a halt inside the circle.

Scott made a note to create a space in the lounge for ease of access, for either TB imPatient or Em’s hoverscoot. He himself pulled up beside Em and reached once again for her hand.

She responded and shot him a worried smile, her fingers curling around his.

The motion did not go unnoticed, but frankly Scott didn’t care.

Penelope, of course, was a picture of respectability.

-o-o-o-

At some point Gordon was appreciating his brother, but I’m not sure exactly what scene this was cut from. has some good lines though.

Virgil was the kind of guy you could tell your deepest problems to and he would simply listen, no judgement, no censure. Sure, get him before his coffee and you may leave minus a body part, but the man would sew it back on for you later.

Gordon and Virgil were so different, yet it was what made it work.

Of course, everyone raved about the ‘bond’ Virgil had with his older brother, sure. But Gordon liked to think that he had something with the Tracy bear, too. Something a little different, a little unique. And he knew Virgil trusted him, despite the pranks and the jokes and snide remarks. They were brothers and it went beyond all that.

So when Virgil sat down beside him at the helm looking like death that hadn’t been warmed up...

-o-o-o-

Originally, when Kay left Virgil’s hospital room when she told him she couldn’t handle him giving his life to IR, Virgil lost it and had to be sedated. This proved to be completely ridiculous and OOC and was dumped (I think one of my beta readers nabbed me on that one). The scene I have has been partially rewritten, but the remnants are there.

“What the hell was I supposed to do? If Brains dies, International Rescue dies with him!”

Kayo had tears in her eyes. “And what do you think would happen to International Rescue without you?”

His heart stuttered and it had nothing to do with his injury. He reached out to touch her but she stepped away. That hurt even more. “Kay? Please?”

“No, Virgil, you have to understand this.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “Without you, there is no International Rescue.” She swallowed and another tear drifted across her beautiful skin. He so wanted to touch her. “It shouldn’t be that way. I can’t share you that much. I want to share your life, you...you can’t give it all to iR. Please, Virgil.”

He reached for her again, desperate to touch her. “Kay!” She took another step back. Her head was shaking ‘no’, tears running freely. “Kay, no, don’t, please don’t!”

“It has to change. Things have to change. I can’t...I can’t...” Whatever she was trying to say dissolved into a sob and she turned away. “I can’t.” She ran from the room.

“Kay, no!” The machinery monitoring him screamed as he tried to get out of bed. A mob of nurses came running and he was buried under a sea of medical white.

“Mr Tracy, calm down!”

“Kay!” His face was wet. He struggled against hands. “Kay!”

“Mr Tracy!”

“Kay, please!” But his heart was hammering in his chest and he was gasping for breath. Spots danced in his vision. He couldn’t.

Please, Kay, I’ll do anything...anything...

“Mr Tracy, if you don’t calm down, I will be forced to sedate you.”

He stared at the blonde haired nurse so opposite from his Kay.

He let all his muscles go, falling slack back against the bed. A sound far too much like a whimper passed his lips.

Kay?

God.

Anything for Kay.

-o-o-o-

Words passed over his head, he ignored them, he needed to get to Kay.

But something flooded his system, a calming, sleep inducing cold. It wrapped around his mind and pulled him down. “No! Kay!” His voice was fading. He had to get to Kay. Please, Kay, I’ll do anything...anything...

But the cold seeped into his mind and took it away.

-o-o-o-

The Epilogue was rewritten a couple of times. I had an argument with it. In the process I killed off an entire original character, Frederico. Poor Frederico. I should revive him in another fic.

“Virgil’s a target?” Scott’s whisper was fierce. They were standing outside a meeting with the Colonel Casey, Lauren Davis and a representative of both the Western Australian Police and ASIO.  

John bit the inside of his lip. “Kayo tagged Em with one of Virgil’s trackers. The timing was just too perfect, too coincidental. Either the bombers were after Em or Virgil. Probability puts Virgil at the top of the list.”

“How did they get the frequency?”

“Unknown.”

“Re-scramble everything. I want everything changed. Start with the frequencies, but speak to Brains, I want everything upgraded, even the subcutaneous.”

John gave him a single nod. That was going to hurt. “Already in progress.”

“Have you told Kayo?”

“No, but I have no doubt she is fully capable of putting the pieces together.”

Scott nodded, but his expression changed, even more concern deepening his frown. “If they wanted Em or Virgil, why bomb a bridge?” He swallowed. “Why not just kill or capture? And it would have been obvious it was coming from Em not Virgil.”

The knot in John’s gut only twisted tighter, his brother was thinking out loud. “Perhaps they wanted to see how we would react? How important Em is to the organisation?”

There was so much anger in Scott’s stance, John fought the urge to take a step back. “Goddamnit.” He clenched a fist. “I want to know who, how and why. Full resources, John. Get Kayo and Penny on this. I want it fixed and I want them found.”

“FAB.”

-o-o-o-

Virgil found her in her office, hissing at one of their agents. “Frederico, so help me, if you don’t take this seriously, I’ll strip you of your IR credentials and throw you in the Atlantic.”

“Is that a death threat?” Virgil couldn’t help but smile. Frederico never took anything seriously, much less a death threat from his boss. He did, however, do an exemplary job at finding information to not be serious about.

-o-o-o-

But one of the scenes I had to cut quite hard was the scene where Em and Scott woke up in the same bed. Apparently, they were ready to take their relationship much further than I was and I had to draw their amour to an abrupt halt before it got entirely out of hand.

God, she was beautiful. Breaking off, he kissed her jawline, tracing it around to her ear and nibbling on her lobe.

Her fingers teased the hair on the nape of his neck, while her other hand slipped under his jacket, brushing across his shirt, around his ribcage to his back, fingertips digging in at his ministrations.

“Scott Tracy, you know how to drive a girl wild.” Her voice was rough and he took it as permission to continue a trail of kisses down her neck, nuzzling her collarbone.

His reward was a gasp at his touch. His left hand had found the bare skin of her back once more and was denting that softness enough to hold her close. His other hand was at her waist, satin between his fingers.

“You are one gorgeous man.” And her tongue was in his mouth again, urgent against his.

-o-o-o-

Please keep in mind these are all trash can scenes and were cut for good reasons.

I hope they provide a little amusement.

As for what was added to the fic...I write very haphazardly and by the seat of my pants most of the time. The whole fic was added after the first chapter really :D

Thanks for asking and for reading all that :D

Nutty

(Who should write more Em, I miss her)