#and I'm not even surprised Bunny is the one who died

[tenrose]

So far I love the secret history 😌

[thezombieprostitute]

What's Mine

Summary: Bucky pushes you too far and decides to explain how your situation works. Or doesn't.

Word Count: ~2.3 k

Warnings: Dark Fic, Implied dub/non con, Power imbalance. Please let me know if I missed any.

Previous Part

It's been a few months since Bucky "claimed" you. He followed up on his promises of taking care of you. You frequently woke up to some surprise gift or another. One day it was a fully stocked kitchen. Another day it was the leak in the bathroom sink getting fixed. More than a few times it's been jewelry with his initials on it.

And all it cost was letting him use you. You swear a piece of your soul dies every time he makes you cum. Every time he coats you in his semen. Every time you match his fervor. It might not be so bad if he didn't gloat every time. That damn smirk haunted your dreams. Or was it nightmares? What was the difference anymore?

It had definitely affected your standing in the community. People were scared to interact with you. Fewer parents brought their kids to the library when you were there. Ruth and her friends had no problems calling you all sorts of degrading things under their breath. You definitely caught them giving you the evil eye more than a few times.

Part of you suspected that if you'd quit trying to fight him he'd lose interest. He liked when you were in a fiery mood. If you could just give in, give up, he'd likely stop using you. But you couldn't help yourself. You hated him. You hated yourself for enjoying the pleasure he gave. That hate needed an outlet.

You pull into your driveway, no longer surprised to see Bucky's bike there as well. You sigh, wondering if you can talk him into to leaving. You're exhausted. Walking into the house you don't even have a chance to take your jacket off before Bucky is on you.

"Bucky, please no. I'm just too tired."

He chuckles, "don't worry. I'm just really happy to see you. We're going out tonight."

You sigh, "I'd rather stay in."

"Then that means you have the energy for me all night."

"Ugh, fine. Where are we going?"

"I've got you an appointment at the tattoo parlor."

"WHAT?! I hate tattoos! I can't get any!"

He smiles as he growls at you, "you're going to get a tattoo just for me. No one else is going to be able to see it, but we'll know it's there."

"Isn't the jewelry enough of your 'ownership'? You even got me a brooch for my cardigans with your initials!"

Bucky licks his lips, "it was just the beginning, Doll. So far everything I've done to mark you are things that can wash away or heal up. This is the next step."

"I refuse," you declare, crossing your arms.

"Fuck, Doll, you're getting me riled up." He puts his arms on each side of your head, boxing you in against the wall. "And you're getting that damn tattoo. We can either go now, while you're still cleaned up, or after I've fucked your brains out and you're a cum covered mess."

"Fine," you drop your head. "Let's go to the tattoo parlor."

"Not yet." He grabs you chin and makes your look at him. "You need to thank me, first, Doll."

Bile rises at the back of your throat. "Thank you for letting me preserve my dignity."

He laughs. "Give me another," he taunts, using the same voice as when he's telling you to give him another orgasm. You hate yourself for the involuntarily clench your pussy does.

"Thank you, Bucky, for...for introducing me to Bunny. It is nice to have a friend." A friend who understands how fucked you both are, you think.

That gets a more sincere smile on his face. "It is important to me that you know my best friend and his girl. I'm glad you're good to them. Bunny is gonna need you when she's pregnant."

"What are friends for," you dryly reply.

"That's my good girl, Doll."

The tattoo is pretty much what you expected. His initials, right over your heart. If you wore anything low cut, it would be obvious. You were sure that was the point: can't even show a hint of skin without reminding everyone who it actually belongs to. At least it wouldn't be a problem at work, given you always dress conservatively.

By the time you're home Bucky is practically salivating at the memory of the tattoo on your chest. He might be eager to see this permanent mark of his claim on you but at least he's willing to follow instructions for proper care so it doesn't scar or make you sick. You made sure to thank him for that, knowing he likes to hear it, and he reiterates, "I take care of what's mine."

"Any chance I can just get some sleep tonight? I wasn't lying when I said I was tired."

"I'm all worked up, Doll."

"I thought you take care of what's yours," you snap back. "How is keeping me awake, not letting get good sleep, taking care of me?"

He grips your chin and gives you a thoughtful look. "I suppose you're right," he admits. "Even a vibrator's batteries gotta recharge every so often, right?" You roll your eyes and he grins. "But I'm going to hold you all night and when you wake up, it's on. I know you don't work tomorrow."

"Is that why you helped with my budget? So I'd have more free time to be your personal toy?" You can't fight the fire in your voice. You're tired, yes. Tired of being so angry all the time.

"Aww, you admit you're mine," he teases.

Unable to hold back any longer you smack his face. "I have never been so angry or tired as I have been since you showed up. You want to take care of me? You want me to be yours? Treat me like a fucking person!" Tears are pouring out of your eyes, the stress and frustration of the months finally finding a kind of release.

Bucky glowers at you and grabs your throat with his metal arm. "You shouldn't have done that, Doll."

"I don't care anymore," you croak.

That seems to catch him off guard as his hand loosens and his face softens.

"Oh, Doll," he shakes his head. "You really should've said something sooner." You squeeze your eyes shut as more tears start falling. He removes his hand from your throat and brings you in for a hug, causing you to cry even more. He pats your hair and coos, "there, there," until you can't cry any more.

"Let's get you to bed," he says quietly.

"I...I don't...I don't understand."

He gently lifts your chin, "you know, before Bunny ran, I tried to warn Steve he was being too controlling. That she was going to bolt. He didn't listen and, sure enough, she escaped. Wouldn't surprise me if she continued to try because he hasn't learned to loosen his grip. I don't plan on repeating his mistakes. Yes, you're mine and you'll never be rid of me. But that doesn't mean I can't be benevolent."

You sniffle as your brain tries to comprehend the sudden change in his demeanor.

"Now lets make sure that tattoo is properly cared for," he says with a soft kiss to your forehead.

"I...I hit you," you stammer.

"You're over-stressed and tired," he shrugs. "If I thought you were doing it just because you wanted to hurt me, yes, there would be repercussions. But I've apparently been overworking my poor Doll, so I'll forgive that one smack." His tone at that last part implies any more attempts to lash out at him will be punished.

"Thank you, Bucky," you murmur as you hang your head.

"Mmmm. That's more like it. Now let's get you to bed and tomorrow we'll work on your communication skills."

You wake up feeling like you're hungover without having had any alcohol. The delicious smells of breakfast lure you out of the bed, even though you dread meeting the cook.

Bucky's shirtless and smiling as he works. If you were in anything close to a healthy relationship you'd smile at how happy he is. Instead you keep your head down, trying not to think about that metal hand wrapped around your neck. About how those muscles feel pressed against your back, or on top of you.

He sees you and gestures for you to sit at the table. He brings you a plate of breakfast, a mug of coffee and kisses the top of your head before sitting across from you. You don't eat right away like he does, lost in your confusion about this change in behavior.

"Eat, Doll," he orders. "I didn't stock your kitchen and cook this up just for you to let it go cold."

"What is going on?" your voice is barely above a whisper.

"I'm taking care of my girl," he answers, nonchalantly. You look at him like you've never seen him before and he sighs. "Eat, or I will force it down your throat."

You grab a slice of the toast and start chewing. "Thank you, Bucky," you grumble and he nods in his approval.

"One of the differences between me and Cap is that I know I'm a monster," he tells you between bites. "He likes to think we've done all of this to keep his girl safe and give her the life she always wanted. I know better. But we've been best friends since we were kids. Ride or die, you know? So I'm always going to have his back. I've just made peace with the fact that it means ruining lives."

"You never tried to talk him out of it? Out of taking over an entire town?"

He shakes his head. "Steve's the kind of guy who can never be talked or distracted from his goal. One of the things I find endearing about him."

"So, he gets you all to take over everything here and you, what? Enjoy the spoils?" Feeling the bile rise at the back of your throat, you go for another slice of toast to try to settle your stomach while keeping Bucky happy.

"It's a balance," he grins. "We take over and just start doing whatever the hell we want, a lot of people are going to die trying to get rid of us. So we set up some rules for our men. People will remain upset, of course, but they're less likely to 'rise up' so long as we have a level of restraint. It's, honestly, the biggest part of my job as Cap's second."

You think on this for a minute, mindlessly eating. "I get why the town, but why me?"

He shrugs, "I needed the stress relief. It ain't easy keeping a crew in line and I was initially just hoping for a quiet spot to read to calm down. Then I started watching you. Saw you expertly handle all kinds of difficulties. When you snapped at me, I figured, like me, you could use some stress relief."

"Stress relief?!" He gives you a look that has you clamming up.

"And fuck you were so good," he muses. "That first photo is still the background on my phone." Heat rushes to your face. "I decided to go ahead and keep you as mine. You're not only a good fuck, but you were quick to befriend Bunny. Everyone else who sees her with Cap has decided to avoid her. Something I know you've been experiencing, even though you haven't told me." You look down, unable to say anything. "I honestly thought you liked the rough treatment and was happy to give it, but I'm guessing we hit a limit for you."

"You branded me," you snarl.

"No, I got you a tattoo. Branding is something else and would've hurt you a lot more." His tone is stern and you return your attention to your food. "You've played a critical role in helping me keep things under control. Plus, since you're my girl, you get some privileges and protections. You think Steve would've beaten up Walker for some random librarian? No. But for his best friend's girl? That's another story."

"So, you're just going to keep using me?"

"Yes," he nods. "And now that I know more about your limits, I'm less likely to get stabbed in my sleep."

You look at him, aghast, "that's why you never stayed the night before?"

Bucky chuckles, "so smart. I love it. And now that you have more information, hopefully you're smart enough to put the rest of the pieces together."

"If I hurt you, Steve drops everything to find and kill me. Probably painfully." He nods. "If I make you angry, you're likely to take it out on someone who doesn't deserve it or you lose control of your men for long enough that they hurt someone who doesn't deserve it." He nods again, smiling at you. "And if I stop playing along like everything is okay, it's another sign to the townsfolk that might set them over the edge and have them shooting, getting hurt, or worse."

Bucky finishes his breakfast, nodding at your conclusions. "God, I love that you're so smart. Makes a lot of this so much easier." You start sniffling and he reaches across the table to gently grip your chin. "I get that this is a lot to take in, Doll. But I know you'll make the right decision. If you really didn't care about this town, you'd have left when you only had a skeleton budget. You're willing to work yourself to the bone to take care of these people, you're willing to be mine to keep them safe."

"I can't say 'no'," you whimper.

"But it doesn't have to be all bad. Remember, I take care of what's mine."

Previous Part

Tagging: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @lokislady82; @ronearoundblindly

[zvezda-writer]

Ex-boyfriend!Simon x Sex Worker!Reader

How big was your surprise when the door of your client's apartment opened and there was Simon, your ex.

Well, yes, it has been around ten years since you saw each other and he definitely had a glow up from the gaunt, funny boy you met back in the shitty neighborhood you two lived in Manchester. Same neighborhood, same type of family, same struggles growing up. You two had everything in common and could've ended up getting married and living in a one bedroom apartment in the same old neighborhood.

But he left.

Without goodbye, without explaining, he just left. You found out by his brother that he had joined the military. You were devastated, to say the least.

You stayed behind, having to take care of your ill mother since your father was a drunk bastard. Until he died when you were nineteen, killed during a bar fight. With the employment rate near to zero in the area you lived in, your solutions were either prostitution or drug dealing, and you refused to be involved with drugs.

That's how you ended up in the sex business. The money was good and you and your mother moved to London, and you started getting richer clients. That's how you ended up there, face to face with the man who broke your heart when you were only sixteen.

You two stared at each other in dead silence for a couple of seconds until you decided that he probably didn't even remember you, so you just acted normal, like you didn't remember him too. The money was too good to reject it.

–You're the one who called me, handsome?

You asked, your voice sickly sweet. He didn't answer, of course. At least not with words.

Without saying anything, he cupped your face with his big, callused hands, attacking your lips with his with deep, burning passion, the taste of his lips heavy with a mix of whiskey and tobacco. The taste had changed, but the way he kissed you, like a starved man, was the very same since you were both teenagers.

But, oh, he remembered you. More than you could've expected. And the moment he saw you standing right in front of the door, the feelings he had butried so deep came back to life in a explosion, leaving him blind with passion and longing.

After a moment he finally let go of your lips, pulling away just enough to get some air, his hands never leaving your face as he whispered in a raspy, rough voice who almost made you moan.

–Can't belive you're bloody real... Ten years, bunny. It's been fucking ten years.

And your heart stopped. He remembered. And hearing him call you the petname he had used with you so many times in the past made your heart twist in knots, eyes burning with tears that you refused to let fall. Your makeup was too expensive for it.

–I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry for not saying goodbye.

He murmured, kissing you again and again as he pulled you inside, shutting the door close without letting go of you.

Each kiss, each touch, everything about him and his presence was an explosion of feelings and sensations you couldn't describe, ecstasy cursing through your veins at each pump of your heart, lungs suffocating with the smell of his cologne at each uneven breathing, brain melting with every sweet word that left his mouth, body shuddering with every thrust of his divine sculpted dick.

–I'm never letting you go again, bunny...–another thrust –Gonna marry you...–another thrust –Gonna fill you up and make you a mommy, yeah?

All you could do was nod, your brain barely registering his words as he overwhelmed you with pleasure and love, and even if what he said wasn't true, it didn't matter at the moment. At that moment, you were both the old Y/N and Simon again, hiding inside his father's old truck at night to have a moment alone.

Your mind turned into a puddle as an overwhelming, destructive orgasm hit her, your warm and soaked cunt clenching and throbbing around his cock, and after a few more thrusts he made his words come true, filling you up to the brim.

Sure, at the moment you didn't actually believe he would marry you and take care of you, but then six months later you found yourself sitting on a comfortable armchair, hand resting on top of your round belly as you watched the most handsome man in the world build your daughter's crib in her pink room, under your inspection of course. Guess he took his promises way too seriously because after the first encounter in two months you were married and moving to a beautiful house in a nice, calm neighborhood, and everyday he made sure to remind you that you didn't have to lift a finger, he was your man, he's supposed to take care of you, right?

[wonderfull-star]

I noticed a rather interesting detail in Horrortale comic.

When the comic first started, some of the characters looked a “little” different. And no, it’s not just about the art style, I think.

Papyrus

Big difference, don't you think? Previously, Papyrus was portrayed as simply out of his mind dummy under the guise of a terrifying monster. Later, he began to be portrayed as much more sane and now he looks and behaves far from being “just a dummy”. What if this is how Aliza saw him? And Papyrus looked much more scarier because she didn't trust him and was afraid of him(well it's clear why).

Sans

Everything is more complicated with him. Since in Aliza’s vision Sans was no longer changing externally, but internally. I mean, unlike Papyrus, Aliza saw him as he “really” is (that is, the same way other monsters and his brother see him). But with the exception of his behavior. Flowey warned Aliza not to get too close to him, which she did. Of course, over time, she still managed to get to know him a little better. And if earlier she portrayed him as a crazy maniac from whom you should stay away, now she sees him as just as terribly hungry as the others, who can no longer restrain himself and secretly wants this madness to end. She understands him and therefore in the last parts of the comics she tried to help him and the rest of the monsters.

Drunk Bunny

Probably the only one who has changed more than the others and, moreover, in reality and not in Aliza’s vision. If you look closely, before both of her eyes were “drunk”. Now one eye has become normal, meaning that she has begun to look at everything that is happening “more soberly.” Which is not surprising, after all, after Aliza stood up for the monsters from Snowdin, hope arose in her again..

Politics Bear

It seems that he just became happier (in reality). In Aliza's vision, she imagined him as the same monster mad with hunger as the others. Previously, in her vision, his teeth were more crooked and his gaze was distraught. Now Aliza sees him even more “bright” than he really is (well, his teeth can’t be that straight?). The bear is happy now. It seems hope has arisen in his soul again..

Aliza really is quite a unique person. In fact, she has a surprising amount of determination. Even when she dies or is in the most hopeless situation at first glance, she always finds a way out. Now I'm really interested in what will happen next. Still, she had enough bravery and kindness to stand up for ALL the monsters in Snowdin, even despite the fact that many of them tried to cook her alive. Aliza is truly have very strong soul. I think that many other people would have fled Snowdin long ago in her place. I think that one of Aliza's goals is to make the monsters regain hope and at least some sanity. Simply put, at least somehow try to establish relationships with them and maybe even make friends. She was able to gain trust from the monsters at Snowdin and it looks like now it’s time for her to go to Waterfall.. And this will DEFINITELY not be easy. Considering WHO might live there.

Now I'm wondering if we'll ever see Gaster in Horrortale comic. 🤔

[kimberlyannharts]

At this point Power Rangers has done a few crossover comics, and they've all been some pretty logical and big name choices - the Justice League, the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, and Godzilla. So today's crossover comic is one that definitely took people by surprise - Usagi Yojimbo, the long-running story of a wandering rōnin having adventures in feudal Japan (who also happens to be a bunny rabbit), written and illustrated by Stan Sakai since 1984. While an icon in his own right - funnily enough, he's a regular guest in TMNT properties - I don't think ANYONE really had HIM in mind as a contender for a crossover with Power Rangers compared to more conventional properties like Transformers or even My Little Pony.

After all, what do they know about samurai in Power Rangers?

It's Mighty Morphin Power Rangers/Usagi Yojimbo!

= So I know I've gone on and on about Shawn Daley's art but I really just need you to look at them again. It just makes me so happy to see a more stylized take on the MMPRs - basically if you took Daniele di Nicuolo's art and ramped up the anime influence by 100. It gives the book that much extra charm

= who the hell is THIS I'm here for the FURRIES not another random boring human!!!!!! it's like I'm playing Animal Crossing

= Jason's attitude in this book annoys me but at the same time it wouldn't be a Ryan book if he wasn't writing Jason in a way that annoys me.

= (also, they knew about the Morphin Masters this early in their Ranger career? I guess Zordon did mention them in an early episode, but.........what have they done that's similar to this that Jason would know about kjkjdkf

= I still think it's very weird that they didn't give the whole "maybe it would be easier if I was fighting alone" to uh.....you know.....Tommy, the loner? Who's so used to fighting alone that he struggled to adjust to a team? But I guess he has a girlfriend and Jason doesn't so.

= Is this a safe space. because the rabbit is pretty hot.

= HAHAHAAAA TOKEN EVIL HUMAN I KNEW IT

= YFIP: THE MIGHTY MORPHIN POWER RANGERS - assisting the villain, thievery of a powerful artifact, assault against civilians, racism against furries

= Like I've said before Jason's characterization here irritates me a bit but I'll give the book props that someone's actually allowed to call him out on it for once. Like man I wish Tommy in the main series was allowed to tell Jason to shut up once in a while like Usagi does here

= Kim: Tommy, it's 4 pm! Time to go help our friends!

Tommy: yes honey

= Wow, look at these guys! They're like......Shogun Rangers! ............wait a minute

= But seriously, though, I gotta say these are one of the best alternate MMPR designs we've gotten in ages - I LOVE how they apply all of MMPR's little details into each individual user. And the altered weapons are awesome, too. Between these and the Kaiju Rangers we've really been cooking with the alternate forms lately

= And as I said, they did manage to resist the urge to give Usagi a Ranger form. I did like my old "maybe he'll find a Samuraizer" idea, though

= They both nearly died via crystal explosion a few hours ago but all they care about is their cool new outfits, just otp things <3

= I was about to say "well yeah, duh, that's why the Dragonzord doesn't have wings" but then I remembered. oh yeah. technically the Zords aren't Japanese in origin in-universe, are they

= It's nice to see Dragonzord Battle Mode! That was a form that didn't get a lot of spotlight in the comics - I think the only time we really saw it in the main series was Shattered Grid, and not for very long before it got destroyed by Serpentera

= Kim and Usagi only get one real onscreen exchange but she also catches him in the Pterodactyl and they have matching bangs. I'll take this as a win, though Splinter is still her #1 rodent dad

= they are so fucking sad

= I think future books should bring Usagi back or just crossover with him again with no explanation. Make people think he's a PR character just like how people assume he's a TMNT character

[piillow]

i just read your headcannon abt xh as your co-worker, and I LOVED IT!! if you're still taking requests, i'd like to request "xh or skz as your barista!"

xdinary heroes as your baristas

(barista xh x reader)

wc : ??? | genre : headcannons, nothing romantic, some established friendships | a/n : sighs i wish xh could be my baristas also TYSM FOR THIS !!

(also sorry these are short + this was so late i rushed this during classes lmao)

\^o^/

GUNIL 건일

always the early morning shift tbh

the warmest welcomes I COULD SOB a RIVER 😭

"good morning y/n! would you like the usual today?" (what if i just died)

definitely adds little doodles to your cup too!

could be a smiley face, a heart, a flower, just whatever he's feeling that day

also sometimes asks about your family if you aren't in a rush

if he's allowed, he'd sit down with you for a little bit depending on how crowded it is

kinda feels sad when you leave, but he knows you'll be back tomorrow, so he's not all that worried :)

JUNGSU 정수

AAAAA literally the sweetest omg

adds extra whipped cream to your drink for free (?!?!?!)

makes small talk while he makes your drink and grabs your pastries (if you bought any)

"how's work? doing well?"

honestly you spill some stuff to him, buttttt who wouldn't???

sometimes introduces you to his curious coworkers, so now you might as well be friends with the whole workplace

"y/n, you might as well work here."

(he's brought it up more than once LMAO)

GAON 가온

of course you have give your bestie a visit

gives you a happy wave when he sees your silhouette walk through the door

"y/n!! finally decided to visit, huh?"

he (jokingly) expects you to see him everyday LMAOO so he'll be kinda bummed when you don't come

LOVES when you ask for a surprise drink because it gives him a chance to let you actually try something else that isn't your usual order

will always give you the seasonal special, and smiles when he sees that you genuinely like it

"you like it, don't you? i really like that one too. i'm sad it's only fall exclusive.."

ODE 오드

always eats up the uniform let's bfr

adds fun accessories (belts, jewelry, etc.) all the time and is surprised when you notice

"oh, you have a different bracelet on today." "ah, yeah, i do! you noticed, huh?"

probably one of the newer baristas, but you two got pretty close after a month or two!

sometimes checks the clock to see when you come every day, just so he can prepare your drink for you before you come in

somehow convinces you to stay at the drink pick-up so he can talk to you while he deals with other customers ????

like my guy you might as well let me stand in there idk

still, he's a great guy and might be your new favorite 👀

JUNHAN 준한

the very quiet one BUT is the one you prefer making your drink

idk how to explain it but he just has a way of prepping it that is just... better????

you always ask him how he does it but he never replies LMAOO

"wow, junhan, what'd you do to make this?" "just the normal way to do it..?"

keep pestering him about it, and maybe eventually he will spit it out (though it doesn't seem likely, keep your hopes up!)

also draws a little bunny on your cup every day after you complimented it once

always tries to make your drink for you, even during rush hour

sometimes feels a bit bummed if someone else has to do it though :(

JOOYEON 주연

"y/n!! morning!!" is always the first thing he says to you with his huge smile HDFKAEJFHAEKJ

he always looks at you like ":D" when you come in it's so cute

after a few months/years of knowing you, sometimes he won't even give you the drink you order just to throw you off

it'll always be something you like though, so don't worry too much

though... he'll probably make you something you hate on april fools day LMAOO

"jooyeon, this is not what i ordered. i don't even like this one!" "happy april fools! hehehe"

and from then on he is now your biggest pain in the ass (but you still love him (/p) because who wouldn't)

send requests pleeaseeee haahhahaaha (THIS WAS SO FUN BTW TYSM!)

[hearted-anon]

Tickletober Day 18: Snuggle

Words: 1024 Note: this duo this duo this duo T/w: soft tickles only, next might be rough though Taglist: @reginald-stay09 @itzsana-kiddingmenow @hetashi-takashimaya-apollos-kid @soap143 @jungwon-is-the-one Lee: Know Ler: Channie

“I really like this.”

“Hyung, you’re getting on my nerves, be quiet.”

“Mmm, when do I not get on your nerves though?”

“Ugh, whatever.”

Minho grumbled; a frown etched onto his face that Chan knew all too well was not real in the slightest. Originally, Lee Know had taken oh such very precious time out of his day to drag his exhausted body out of he and Jisung's shared room to visit the Aussie, who had dramatically complained in the hallways that he was going to die from a headache if a member didn't bring him soup this instant. Being the not-so-secret caring younger he was, he was quick to bring a fresh bowl of chicken noodle soup to the elder, ignoring the countless praise he got and the endless cooing, despite a tinge of red slowly creeping up on his cheeks suggesting otherwise of what he thought on the compliments.

However, it was more of a ploy just to trick the younger into thinking he was in need of help, immediately seizing the opportunity to wrap his arms around the younger, who instantly screamed in protest akin to a cat who was going into a bath. Snuggling poor Minho into the leader's arms, he carried the cat over to his bed, carefully settling him down before smiling in triumph, ignoring how the younger was pounding at his back or clawing at his arms; he had grown used to these gestures after countless times of cuddles. When Lee Know realised he wasn't going anywhere, he leaned into the touch, letting himself be snuggled up.

"Who's my cute, grumpy little cat?" Chan cooed, squishing one of the dancer's cheeks and earning a soft yell of protest. Humming a whimsical tune, he resorted to burying his nose into the cat's neck, nuzzling the area with a chaste affection that made Minho squeal in surprise. The Aussie could practically feel how the younger was shaking to keep the giggles inside his throat, his entire face beginning to redden to keep himself quiet. Now that wouldn't do, no one gets to be all quiet in Chan's snuggles. Moving his fingers, he slowly and tantalisingly clawed at Minho's sides, chuckling at the way his back instantly arched at the sensations.

"Aha- Hyuhuhung! Noho!" Minho whined, fingers failing to push Chan's away through his unrelenting struggles. The elder simply tossed his leg over him, tugging him closer to enjoy the scent of mint and a tinge of soup on the younger. He internally wondered how Minho always carried such a home-like scent to him, inhaling it like it was a Michelin starred food. Feeling a slight bit mischievous, Chan brought his fingers up to Minho's ribs, feeling for each and every bone and wiggling his fingers to the fleshy skin in-between the bones.

"Chahahahan! Plehehease!" Minho pleaded to no one in particular, a bunny-like smile beginning to form on his face at the constant tickles. No matter how much he squirmed, tried to hide himself, or even curl up into a ball to protect himself from the invading tickles, the leader was always gentle in getting him to open back up, almost patient in a sense, awaiting to see if Minho wanted more whenever he would shield himself for a short period of time. What felt more embarrassing to him was that he found himself leaning into more tickling, more affection from the elder, giggling his heart out freely. His usual crazed laughter died down into a sweet melody, eyes crinkling into a sense of happiness.

"Hmm? I'm always here to listen, what's up?" Chan questioned, taking his head out of Lee Know's neck for a moment to face him fully, aweing out loud when he was met with the sight in front of him. Some part of him wished to snap a picture of such a blissful expression and hang it up on the wall, but he knew if he even tested that he wouldn't ever see the light of day again. After a loud whine, Chris indeed realised that he wasn't allowed to stop the gentle ministrations on Minho's body, diving his head back into the younger's neck and placing a few chaste kisses onto the back of the skin, being sure to linger each one, the slow sweep of his lips tickling much more than expected.

"Ehehehe! Noho! Nohoho kisses!" Minho complained, and it started to make Chan think that really, every single little complaint that spilt from his mouth really was an indication to continue. Putting it to the test, the Aussie began to slowly remove himself from the snuggles as per Lee Know's request, only to be pulled back roughly as the younger jutted out his bottom lip in an obvious pout, glaring at Chris from behind. Snickering to himself about his theory being proven right, his heart could only feel so light, happy that even the grumpiest of members still wanted and craved his affection on boring days like these.

However, all good things have to come to an end, a curious Chan peeking over when the sweet song of giggles had quietened down into nothing, cooing when he saw Minho completely knocked out on the elder's bed, fingers twitching and curling around a nearby pillow every once in a while. His eyes were peacefully closed with his lips parted ever so slightly with a calming blush dusting his cheeks. Chan swore somewhere in him that his heart exploded at the endearing sight, pressing his lips against the younger's forehead before whispering a tiny goodnight, pulling them both into a deep slumber after throwing a blanket on themselves. The evening's glow began to settle in too, illuminating them in a sunset's gradient as they both slept in tranquility.

Although they had only slept for at least two hours, they were surprised to find that Minho's homemade soup was completely gone, shaking their heads simultaneously when they saw a certain 'married couple' walk by with their heads in a bowl of soup. Dragging Minho back into his snuggle pile, maybe they really could use more rest; seeing how neither of them was against the idea.

[boygiwrites]

Harley D. Dixon 28

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📖Chapter List.

Author's Note.

I was lying last time. That wasn't a biggun. THIS is a biggun.

'Be careful, Dad.'

'I will, baby.'

I realize the others. 'Oh. And you too, I guess.'

'Real funny,' T-Dog signs, unimpressed.

The strongest of our group spare us no last glances as they turn away, with only five bullets and a handful of bolts between them. I sit next to Lori on the small bench, watching their backs retreat. The Thanton Memorial hospital. There it is, tall and beige like a school, but really more of a Hellbox filled with nasty surprises behind each one of the hundreds of little black windows. Glad it ain't me.

God. Nine miles. Two days. Sharpsburg, East of nowhere. We really made it. I guess I knew we would.

'You know this place.'

Herschel's already looking at me when I turn to him, his moustache curled around a smile.

'Just a feeling,' He adds.

'You're a mind reader,' I decide, regarding him with suspicion.

Herschel Greene; a wizard disguised as a Georgian farmer. I knew there was something up with him.

He doesn't respond, because I guess he don't want his cover blown. That or... Well, he's waiting for an answer.

'My Momma lived in this town.' Is all I supply him with after a time, because it ends the same way most stories do.

'I'm sorry.'

I shrug. It ain't anybody's fault. 'I don't know why I didn't tell nobody.'

'This town means something to you. We don't always share things like that.'

I guess. 'What about your Momma?'

'My Mother died when I was fairly young.' He admits easily, like somebody at peace. 'One day, my brother and I noticed she'd gone out into the rain to water the plants, and things were never quite the same for a long time after that.'

Oh. I've heard of that. People getting old, forgetting where their bedroom is, who their kids are.

It's hard to imagine Herschel as just a boy with a Momma.

Some days, it's even hard to imagine myself as just a girl, even though that's what I still am.

I offer him a lame smile.

'Let's talk about something a little happier,' He suggests, while over his shoulder, a flashlight glares across the inside of one of the second storey windows. 'I'm starting to think it's the end of December. That would mean it's Christmas soon.'

The light disappears.

I ignore it.

If only them pharmacies we checked this morning had anything in them besides rat shit and dust.

'Jesus' birthday party,' I muse.

That gets him to laugh. I think he's tryna distract me. 'Yes. It could even be tomorrow.'

'Really? How do you know?'

'Well, I suppose I don't. Do you like Christmas?'

Everybody likes Christmas. That is, at least, everybody likes presents.

'Yeah. My Meemaw had a really pretty tree.'

'The minute it turned December first, Maggie and Beth would always force everyone to put up ours.'

'Do they believe in Santa Claus?'

'Not anymore, I'm afraid.'

'And you?'

His eyes glint mischievously. 'Of course I do.'

I consider it. 'I don't think I do. I don't believe in the Easter Bunny, neither.'

Or God, but that's a different story.

'They didn't ever come to your house?'

'They came a few times, but I think they forgot about us. My friend Dylan said they're made up. The Christmas after that, I stayed up late to spy on Santa, but I just saw Merle and Dad carrying presents in from the truck. I never told them.'

'I guess Santa was too busy that night.'

'If he is real, I hope he's okay. The Easter bunny has lots of chocolate to eat, but... Santa might be hungry.'

I wonder if the walkers have made it to the North Pole yet. Knowing those assholes, they definitely have.

'You forget; — Santa has magic.'

'That's how he makes the sleigh fly, right?'

'Right. And all those cookies and all that milk... Well. He's got more than enough to last a lifetime.'

'So, you think he's okay?'

'I'm sure of it.'

'I would like some cookies and milk, too.'

The old man only laughs again, giving my knee a gentle pat as Carl leans forward, his mouth moving around some words.

When the boy gestures to me, Herschel translates.

'He asked me what we were talking about. He wants to tell you it's okay; Santa forgot about him too, one year.'

Carl sends me a thumbs up, trusting that the message got across well enough.

It did. I feel my smile widen.

It's wiped away when Lori suddenly lurches forward between us. Her chest wracks, wracks, wracks, a soft wad of phlegm flying past her lips and landing at her feet. My hand goes to her shoulder, squeezing reassuringly, as if that's gonna do anything useful. Her lungs, they must be clogged up like sponges filled with yoghurt, all that sickness and junk coming back up the way it went in.

Herschel's on his feet, bringing his thin hand down on her back, knocking the phlegm out of her.

I glance over my shoulder.

Lights; more of them, swooping over the glass, appearing and disappearing and reappearing.

A gunshot lighting up a window.

Please be okay, I think. Lori won't make it like this.

Facing forward again, Lori's got her hand splayed over the base of her throat, coughing dryly. She takes the water bottle Carol is offering to her, and gulp, gulp, gulps down the last of what's inside, deflating when she's done, cradling her big belly.

Are you okay, I ask aloud as I loosen my grip on her, hoping it sounds how it's supposed to sound.

She smiles at me in the slightest of ways, putting her hand over mine before I can pull it away.

She nods, I'm okay, honey.

I nod back, because that's good. I don't believe her for a second, but that's good.

'There was a gunshot,' Beths signs to me, then.

'I know. I saw.'

She continues signing even as she turns to Herschel, a habit by now. 'That was loud.'

'Don't worry. Anything that heard it will be too slow to make their way over here.'

'I hope so.'

We sit without talking after that, watching the windows of the hospital light up with gunshots every now and then, as if it were a football game on TV. I count them, the flashes. The one I saw while Lori was coughing, that's one. That one there, that's two.

Rick used to talk about the day he woke up in the Grady Memorial Hospital sometimes. Right now, the only parts of the story I can remember are the ones where he'd hesitate to continue, staring at something in the fire the rest of us couldn't see, before he muttered about the way there wasn't one wall in the entire building that wasn't dirtied with blood, not even in the children's ward.

Hospitals just ain't what they used to be, is what I learned from him.

There's definitely more than just rat shit and dust in there.

I glance at Beth, asking her, 'Any noise?'

Her lips crumple into a thin line as she answers, 'Nothing.'

Just when I swear Herschel is about to bow his head and start praying, the front doors swing open.

Mouse perks up, his tail ramrod straight.

That's Dad, T-Dog, and Maggie walking out.

Where's Rick and Glenn?

The three of them are panting, dishevelled, but nobody hurt. Nobody bit. That's always the first thing I look for.

Thing is, though, they're all looking at me like I've won a shitty prize and I just don't know it yet.

What now?, I almost feel like saying, but don't.

The further in we walk, the darker it gets.

Does anybody really like the dark?

The flashlights carve out pockets in the walls and floors around us as we make our way down corridor after corridor. My heart skips a beat each time we pass the body of a patient or a nurse or a person in regular clothing, all with a bolt or a bullet buried somewhere inside them. We sidestep their limp arms in turn, their puddles of blood. I ain't ever been in a horror house before, but I imagine this is worse. I imagine it'd prolly feel a whole lot less like you're being walked to the gallows for execution, and that the blood would be fake.

If I had my locket, it would be clutched between my fingers right now, but the soft spot beneath my throat is completely bare. When I woke up this morning to my empty palm, I knew right away what'd happened. I didn't bother to ask what he did with it.

Passing another body with a bolt skewered through its face, my Dad reaches for it, pulling it out.

Clicking it back onto his bow, he notices me watching him.

'Keep going, baby.' He signs to me, black blood smeared down the side of his neck. 'Not far, now.'

T-Dog comes to a stop in the middle of the corridor a minute later, his flashlight revealing Glenn and Rick standing together just up ahead. Not hurt. Not bit. They look up from what they've been doing, which looks like taking turns kicking the wall.

T-Dog lowers the flashlight to their feet.

There it is.

The Harley-sized hole in the wall.

Now that I'm looking it, I can see what they meant. Nobody else is fitting through that thing, not even Carl.

Still no use, is the sentiment written all over Rick's face.

It looks like they've tried their best to widen the gap, but it's made out of solid brick and we're fresh outta jackhammers.

Will she fit? 

Yeah, I think so, Is the gist of what I can tell they're saying to each other.

We got this piece off here, but it the rest isn't budging. We don't have any bullets left to shoot it.

Maybe... we can do what I said before? Find another pharmacy?

Sure. When you find one within twenty miles of here, you let me know.

You're right. That was dumb. Sorry.

There are no other options. The medicine Lori needs is in that room, and it's like I said. She won't make it, otherwise.

'Listen. There are keys on the desk.' Dad explains to me, his stern expression contoured harshly by the flashlights surrounding us. He takes my wrist, guiding me to crouch with him at the base of the wall, pointing through the cracked bricks. I strain to make out the desk with the keys at the back of the room on the other side, before I meet his gaze again. 'Do you see them?'

'Yeah. I saw them.'

The desk ain't the only thing in there.

'We need you to grab them and unlock the door for us.'

We both know I also saw the walker standing idly in the corner, head bowed to the floor, waiting.

'We'll be able to kill it when the door is open.' He adds when I don't respond, as if he needed permission. 'I can't from here.'

'My heart is beating fast.'

He nods. 'That's a good thing. And this meathead is dumb. Are you dumb?'

I puff my chest out, shaking my head.

'That's right. You don't need to hear them when you're smarter than them. You're always smarter than them. Okay?'

'Okay.'

That's what he's told me ever since I went totally deaf. I don't need to hear them when I'm smarter than them. It's not as if we've had the opportunity to test the theory out, since there's so little walkers that I ain't had to kill one yet, but I trust him.

Twisting around, he gestures for Glenn's flashlight and catches it easily, giving it a few test clicks.

He hands it to me. 'Remember what I taught you?'

I give a nod, feeling the weight of Merle's knife sitting in the sheath on my thigh.

'Good. And be careful of the glass on the floor, okay?'

'Okay. I got this.'

I can do this. I gotta, for Lori and the baby. It'll make for a funny story one day, anyway. I can do it.

'You got this.' He agrees. 'It's gonna smell you, but you're not gonna panic. Easy stuff.'

'Easy stuff. Okay.'

'Okay?'

'Okay.'

With one last look at the group, I take a deep breath and grab onto one of the exposed bricks, contorting myself until my head and one of my arms is through the gap. I pause for a moment, trying not to breathe too much as I watch the walker follow invisible patterns along the floor with its eyes. Once its head is tilted away from me, I brace my hand on the floor, pushing myself through.

Oh, God. What was it I just said? I can do this?

The flashlight blinks on and off as I land on the other side, grabbing it, giving it a shake.

The desk is illuminated in a circle of light, centre stage.

The dead body twitches in the shadows. I slowly get to my feet, silently warning it to stay right where it is if it knows what's good for it. I'm smart. I can read and write now, and my Dad taught me how to stab the thigh first, so the walker will collapse and make it easier for me to reach whatever cavity I can stick my knife in. If this thing gets too close to me, it's gonna get the Dixon treatment.

Uh huh. That's right, I scold it, chin held up. The Dixon treatment. Ain't nobody want that!

The pieces of glass on the floor glint in the light as I tip toe my way through them, stepping up to the desk.

Dad said the keys are here. I saw them. They should be right here amongst these dusty papers — Ugh, God, don't sneeze. Don't. — or maybe even on this folder? What about the shelves above the desk? How could they just disappear?

When I turn the light on the walker, it's looking at me, eyeballs wet, reflecting the light.

It's smelt me.

That's okay. I'm okay. We knew it would.

It starts its slow shuffle towards me as I turn my attention back on the desk, casting about it twice as quickly now, batting the alarm clock, the pen pots, the stethoscope, everything out of my way and following all the pencils and random office supplies down to the floor. Kneeling, I look around, making sure the keys haven't gone down with them or fallen between the desk and the cabinets.

A glint of metal.

I gasp. They have!

I must've accidently knocked them off while I was choking back all that dust in my face.

I stick my hand into the slim gap, but — Ugh. — I can't get it any farther than my knuckles!

I'll have to make it wider.

Abandoning the flashlight, I grab the side of the desk, using all my strength to shove it even just one inch to the side.

Shit, it's heavy. They got bowling balls in here, or what?

The wheelie chair bumps into my ankle. I act on instinct, my hands shooting out, bracing against it. I look up. The walker's slouched over it, reaching for me. My elbows, they buckle. Shit. The seat slams into my shoulder — Ouch! — but you know what. This'll do. This works. I just need these stupid keys. I ignore the walker and its stench of old meat, focused on nothing but the keys.

I'm not gonna panic. It's what I used to do, but I've learnt since then. I'm better!

A couple shoves, and the gap is just wide enough, wide as it's ever gonna be.

Easy stuff. Easy stuff.

The seat suddenly gives way. The body rolls, cracking its cheekbone on the floor. Don't matter. I got the keys. I'm back on my feet and running to the door, feeling out a random key and shoving it in the lock, twisting it. It's the right one. The door opens.

Maggie pulls me out by the arm. It's if there's a fire blazing behind me and I'm about to go up in flames.

That's it. I'm out!

I fall into her stomach, protectively held there.

Thank whoever's still up there. Or maybe, just thank me.

Rick and Dad push past my shoulders, marching into the room and unsheathing their blades, powerfully driving them both into the walker's skull. Blood splatters as they yank them out, droplets landing across the glass cap of the flashlight on the floor. It tints the light and everything it's cast onto a bright red, flickering. Dad picks it up, wipes it on his thigh, and hands it back to Glenn.

Grinning proudly to myself, I hold up the keys up like a trophy head for everyone to see.

Maggie releases me, smiling breathlessly down at me in relief.

'Well done,' T-Dog exclaims with his hands, sharing a high five with me.

Kneeling in front of me, Dad cups my face in his hands. He don't give a damn about the keys. Are you okay?

'I'm okay. The keys were down the side of the desk. I couldn't reach them. I had to—,' Shoving at the air, I enthusiastically mime the struggle, making Maggie chuckle behind her hand. 'The walker was trying to get me through the chair.'

He smiles, wagging his thumbs across my cheeks before lowering his hands. 'I told you. Meatheads. But not you.'

'Not all the time, anyway.'

'You should've come back out when you couldn't find the keys.'

'Sorry.'

'It's alright. There won't be a next time. You did good.'

Then, taking the keys from me, he stands back up and returns to Rick's side in the dark room.

I stay right beside Maggie and Glenn as they make quick work of the storage room door, pushing it open. Their torches illuminate the shelves on either side of them, which to everyone's relief, are completely untouched, lined with all kinds of medicine. It wasn't all for nothing. Without bothering to read many of the labels, they swoop their arms through the masses of bottles, catching everything in their open backpacks and zippering them back up, before nodding to each other and stepping back outta the small room.

Let's go, Rick says as he shoos us forward. We're all eager to get the Hell outta this place.

Stepping through Thanton Memorial's broken glass doors, daylight breaks across my face.

The fresh, cold air floods into my dusty lungs.

When Carl spots me, it's like the bench burns his ass. He's calling my name as he comes running at me, crushing me in a hug that almost sends us both toppling over into the snow. A giggle is squeezed from me as I hug him back, feeling my bones creak under the pressure. Wow. For somebody who ain't eaten anything other than a bit of rabbit for the past two days, he sure is strong.

Pulling away, he holds both my shoulders as he worriedly exclaims something to me.

You're the coolest, bravest person ever, I'm gonna assume is what he's saying, I don't know how you did it!

He pulls me in for another, quicker hug.

When Herschel appears over his shoulder, I get the real story. 'He's telling you we were all very worried.'

Oh. Is that right?

Ow!, The boy scoffs as I land a punch to his shoulder, forcing him offa me.

'Tell him he's talking to Harley Dixon,' I say.

As the sentiment is passed on, Carl rolls his eyes at me, making a retort.

'He wants to remind you of the time he hugged you after you cried from a nightmare.'

Ow!, He complains again when I punch him.

As he rubs sorely at his shoulder, he can't help but giggle along with me.

'Come on,' Herschel interrupts us, herding the two of us back toward the group. 'Very well done, sweetie.'

'I was only a little scared.'

'Of course. This is Harley Dixon I'm speaking to, isn't it?'

Too right. 'Yes, it is!'

Stepping up to the crowd, we gather around the bench as Rick takes a seat next to his wife, uncapping the bottle of water in his lap. Her face looks awful pale-like, paler than the snow packed under our boots. Still, despite the effort it must take, she manages a smile. Her hands shake as she takes the water, watching Rick tap a small bottle of pills against her open palm until two tumble out. 

Being trapped in that room was one of the scariest things I've done. I can say that, now. But as she tips her head back and swallows the pills down with a gulp of water, I'm hit with the feeling that I would do it all over again if I had to.

She sighs, body swaying. We can only hope that it works.

As Rick soothes circles onto her lower back, his gaze accidently meets mine.

'Thank you', He signs, looking like he means every bit of it.

His blue eyes start to water just like they did last night, except there ain't no fire I can blame it on this time.

I only give him a single, shy nod, grabbing onto my Dad's hand. He don't need to thank me. I love Lori, too.

Then to everyone else, he says it again; Thank you.

Carl's hugging me again.

I don't bother punching him this time. I don't wanna do it, anyway.

Being back in Sharpsburg is different to what I thought it would be.

Aside from the old blood smeared across the roads, the way everything seems to have gone through a nightmare and fell back asleep shortly afterward, Sharpsburg is the one place we been that has not bothered to rot away quite yet. There ain't no bombing craters where parks or stores used to stand, no toppled police barricades, army trucks, no bruises from the week everything ended.

Petey's general store is still exactly where it always was, right next door to the news agency, the record store, the locksmith. I don't keep my head down like I planned to. I don't pretend I never knew this place, or the people in it, because I did. I hold my chin up to the light of the setting sun as we walk through the forgotten town, unafraid of the memories I can see behind each and every door.

You know this place. I did. I do. For a long while, it was pretty much the only thing I knew.

Each weekend, I would jump out of Dad's truck the second he pulled up on the handbrake, door slamming as I ran into my Mama's open arms. It would be late afternoon, sometimes twilight. There was no school the next day, no quizzes or beatings to worry about. Not on the good days, not when I was cruising down the sidewalk on my bike with a dollar note in my hand, on my way to Petey's. He would always insist on letting me pick an ice cream out for free, but it never worked. Have-it-her-way-Harley, he always called me, the nickname a hearty chuckle in his mouth. The wind was in my hair on the way home, because I had one back then, dollar note replaced with a fruity-flavored glob of ice cream frozen to a stick. Sugar melting onto my fingers, washed away in the play pool after dark.

I used to do things like that. We all did, I suppose.

As we pass by an empty parking lot, I notice the rainbow streamers of a lonely, fallen bike blowing around in the wind like a white flag. I wanna ride a bike again. Just for a minute. Maybe two, I think, as I hold my gaze on it for as long as I can.

Eventually, we make it to a park. Of course, I recognise this place as well, and so does my Dad.

That's why I can feel him staring at the back of my head.

I never stopped to think about how he knows Sharpsburg, too. He was right there with me on the porch of Petey's store, most the time, smoking cigarettes in the sun with melted ice cream drying out on his collarbones. He remembers it, too.

We used to come to this park all the time; me, Momma, and Dad, on the rare days they got along.

I got to pretend I was a different kid looking in on the three of us and thinking, What a nice family. I wish I was her.

Now, the monkey bars look more like the giant ribcage of an old beast rather than something I'd wanna play on.

A shrivelled walker, curled over the seat of one of the swings, lets the wind brush its fingers along the ground.

Everyone has a Before.

Even that walker.

Even if our Befores were all very different, at least our Afters are all the same. We're all here, sick, hungry, tired.

The park's trees and fences fall away after a while of more walking, making way for a suburban street.

Coming to a stop in the middle of the road, the ache in my feet worsens to a pang, pang, panging.

'Everything alright?' Glenn's asking me as a wave of tiredness suddenly washes over me.

'My feet hurt.' I answer. 'And don't say sorry.'

'I think we're going to stop soon. Don't worry.'

Rick considers the houses lined up in front of us, hands on his hips, as Dad walks up to us. 'What's wrong?'

'Her feet hurt. And are you tired?'

I could fall asleep right here in the snow. 'A little.'

Even when I was lost in the woods outside Herschel's farm, I still don't think I ever walked this much and for this long.

Giving me a regretful look, Dad offers, 'Do you need me to carry you?'

'I'm a big girl,' I tell him, yawning.

'I know. I asked you a question.'

They wait on my answer. I think about fighting it a minute longer, but I just don't have it in me. I'm reaching up for my Dad before I even realize it's what I'm doing, letting him lift me onto his chest as I wrap my arms and legs around him.

I could've definitely handled it. Yeah. It's just that, maybe it's okay if I don't for a while.

I can already feel my eyes drooping shut. I'm gonna fall asleep right here.

It's suddenly a lot easier to feel like just a girl, now.

My chin hooked over his shoulder, I watch through my heavy lids as Rick does a double take on something laying on the ground, turning to pick up what looks like a fallen street sign. The moonlight swells over the clouds, spilling onto the metal.

Brushing the frost off, he reveals the words, Bolton Drive.

Bolton Drive. To me, this was always just Dylan's street.

If we turn left here, there's some bigger houses down the way. I think it's prolly what my Dad's telling the group right now.

We're on the move again right after that, heading further into the suburbs. I'm saved from walking, instead snuggling into my Dad. It's almost impossible to shield my face from the oncoming winds as I peek out over his shoulder, the moon a silver ball in the sky behind us. I bet it's just about the only place left without any walkers, including the North Pole. If I were a bird, maybe I would forget all about Earth and just fly up there. I could look back down on it all like from a faraway window, watching as it slowly spins.

At a harsh gust of wind, I close my eyes, and the moon and all the stars vanish.

Sleep sweeps me up quickly. My mind floods with murky colors, then black, swirling like a shower drain.

When I open my eyes next, we're approaching a house I don't recognise.

'Shhhh,' Dad's soothing me, looking about as exhausted as I feel. 'It's alright. I'm putting you down.'

My feet slowly setting on the ground, Maggie takes my hand before I get the chance to feel the loss of Dad's warmth. We wait shivering at each other's side as the men clear out the house. Rick eventually sticks his head back out, waving us inside.

Climbing the porch, we huddle into the narrow corridor and spread out into the nearest room, the lounge room. Dad's already got a fire going for us as we make ourselves at home on the sofas, the hot breath of the flames quickly starting to melt the frost stuck to my coat. I hug myself, breathing deeply and slowly to try fight off the urge to fall right back asleep. As I notice Carl approaching, I scoot over to make room for him and his Momma, who settles her weight down on the sofa with the help of Maggie and Glenn.

I feel a little bad for being carried, even if I needed it. Lori made it all the way here on foot, deep into a sickness and carrying a baby inside of her. A lotta people might think a lady like her is weak, but they'd be wrong. There's many ways to be strong.

My Dad stands from where he was knelt by the fireplace, peeling off his beanie and sitting beside me.

As I look around the room, all I see are tired faces.

Mouse plops himself between my feet, the poor guy's fur ice-cold beneath my hands as I give him some pats.

We'll be warm soon, buddy, I think.

Everyone's attention is stolen when Rick steps up to the front of the room, fiddling with his beanie in his hands.

He gulps on nothing, nodding to himself. 

'I know we're all very tired,' Herschel translates for me as the words come, even though his arms must feel like they weigh a thousand pounds. 'Been tired for months. But let's just make the most of this and try to relax tonight. We've got a fire. We've got walls. Medicine. It's a Hell of a lot better than those garages back in Newnan. T and I will melt some snow for us to drink, and we got some food we just found in the kitchen. We'll take turns for watch through the night, but there's not much out there. You saw.'

Carol hesitates to raise her hand, shaking her head as she asks a question.

We turn back to Rick. 'I don't know. I don't like staying in one place long, but I'm thinking there's only a few more weeks left until Spring. It's not impossible to think we can tough it out here. There's not many other options right now.'

It looks like we're staying in Sharpsburg for a few more weeks, then. At least until the cold dies down.

There are worse places to end up.

'Try to warm up in the meantime.'

Leaving us to stew in thought, Rick and T-Dog pull their coats on tighter and disappear through the archway.

'You know something?' Beth asks after a minute or two, the only light in the room coming from the fire. It lends her face a pretty, dim glow as she glances at her Dad sitting next to her.  'Daddy thinks it's gonna be Christmas tomorrow.'

Oh, that's right. I'd almost forgotten.

Glenn sends him a, No shit?, sort of look.

'I just figured it would be about that time.' He explains, making Maggie light up. 'I have a sixth sense for it.'

My Dad scoffs, shrugging. 'Well, I don't have a calendar. Why not.'

Wait? Really?

'So, it's Christmas tomorrow?', I ask him, as if we ain't just making all this shit up.

Something so simple, the prospect of waking up on Christmas morning tomorrow even if it ain't in no official way, even if we ain't even got a tree, let alone a star to put on top of it, sparks excitement throughout the room. Yes, it's Christmas tomorrow. From the smiles breaking out on everyone's faces, Maggie giddily gripping onto Glenn to give him a shake, I can tell it's Christmas tomorrow.

Feeling just a little bit more awake than I did a moment ago, I exclaim again, 'It's Christmas tomorrow!'

My Dad seems to find this very amusing, smirking side-long at me.

There ain't much to say in the way of how our Christmases used to go, especially the ones after my second birthday, but I still remember seeing the church all lit up with decorations at night whenever we happened to drive past it. I always liked that.

Carl must exclaim the same thing I did with almost twice the energy, because Lori and Rick laugh.

'I can't believe,' Maggie gushes, 'I forgot about Christmas!'

'It's not your fault,' Glenn jokes, petting her shoulder. 'We've been busy trying not to die.'

'Good point.'

'I'm sure the Lord will forgive you,' Beth says.

'Yeah. He started all this shit, anyway.'

Maggie waves her hand around. 'Hey. A little respect for the Atheists in the room?'

When everyone turns to look at me and Dad, a round of laughter breaks out.

'We're only in it for the presents,' He agrees.

I nod. It's true.

'Me, too,' Glenn says.

'I just wish I we had some,' Beth pouts.

'We're alive,' Herschel argues, looking around at each person in the room. 'There's no present better than that.'

Aww. That cheesy line earns him a funny look from Maggie, who pulls him into a deathly-tight hug.

'I think there actually might be something better.'

Glenn sticks a finger up, standing and disappearing into the kitchen.

When he returns, he's cradling a bunch of shiny wrappers in his arms, dumping them all onto the coffee table. Snack packs. Crackers and cheese, salami and cookies, bread sticks, peanut butter. Those really are snack packs! What a lucky find!

Nobody hesitates. We all grab one, ripping the seals off and huffing the tasty smell that comes out.

'You just found these in there?,' Asks Beth.

'Yeah,' He answers, flopping back onto the sofa. 'They were in the pantry. There's cans, too.'

'I'm in love with whoever lived here.'

Mouse is staring at me as I pick up a piece of salami, so I toss it into his mouth.

I save the next one for myself, groaning at the nostalgic taste of school lunches.

'Better?' Glenn signs to me like a smartass, knowing damn well this is the best thing I ever tasted.

I stick my food-covered tongue out at him.

Blehhh!

Unexpectedly, he does the same thing back. Eugh. Gross!

When Carl notices what we're doing, he sticks his tongue out, too. Even grosser!

'Come on. Enough,' Dad tries to warn me, buts he regrets it a second later when a wet glob of salami lands in his lap.

This is what Rick and T-Dog walk in on as they come through the archway, holding cookware filled with chunks of snow and ice in front of them. My Dad's smacking the salami onto the floor as if it were fresh dog shit, Carl and I trying not to choke on our food, laughing at him. Mouse spinning in circles like a lunatic, spurred on by the chaos, making Carol laugh like she means it. Not that puny, polite little chuckle she does sometimes; a full belly laugh, holding onto Maggie for support. They was only gone a few minutes.

Rick smirks as he shakes his head, deadpanning something to the effect of, I see you found the food.

They set the cookware in front of the fire and join us on the sofas. 

'Why's everyone so happy?', Rick asks as he sits on the ottoman, confused, delighted, because there has to be a reason.

'It's Christmas tomorrow,' I gladly tell him.

'Oh, really?'

T-Dog asks the others, 'Wait, what? How do you know?'

'We don't.' Herschel admits, throwing Mouse a cube of cheese. 'But we deserve a Christmas, don't we?'

Yeah, I see the word slip from Rick's mouth.

'We deserve some eggnog, too,' T-Dog adds, making himself laugh just like he always does.

'Tell me about it.'

'Cover your ears, kids,' Carol tells us, even though she's laughing, too.

I hear that right? As the deaf one outta the two of us, I jokingly gesture to my ears. I can't hear shit, anyway!

As everyone laughs all over again, my Dad reaches out to try and cover my eyes, but I bat him offa me. Nice try.

'You got the card, now, kid.' T-Dog tells me, like it's some secret club I've joined.

'I got the what?'

'The card. I got mine, too. 'Oh, yeah? Is it because I'm black'?'

Carol smacks him. 'Whatever.'

'Next time your Dad gives you in trouble, you can pull the, 'Oh, yeah? Is it because I'm deaf?'

That's silly!

'Don't give her ideas.'

'Too late,' I grin devilishly. 'I got the card, now, Dad.'

He rolls his eyes, trying his best not to laugh, too.

'You can't do that, Harley.' T-Dog mimes. 'Oh, yeah? Is it because I'm deaf?'

'What did I just say?'

Sorry, man, T-Dog chuckles, biting on a tiny bread stick.

What's eggnog, Carl asks his parents curiously, reminding us why we're talking about 'cards' in the first place.

Eggnog is a milky-lookin' drink that got booze in it, which is why Rick and Lori brush off the question. I tried it once, during a party at my Meemaw's, after one of my Uncles shrugged and said, Fuck it. Tasted like garbage sprinkled with cinnamon.

'Let's just stick with what we have,' Herschel suggests. 'There must be some other traditions we can do?'

'Our family used to share a favorite moment from that year,' Beth says. 'Maybe we can do that?'

'That's a great idea, Beth.'

'I got one.' Glenn raises his hand. 'Finding that car in Atlanta.'

'Oh, that was good.'

'Sad we had to leave it.' He agrees. 'I also liked the time I fell into a dumpster after we left the CDC.'

'What?,' Maggie scrunches her nose at him.

'Looking back at it, it was pretty funny.'

God dang, I remember that day. I was sitting off to the side with Sophia, watching the scene unfold together.

'Morales had to grab your ass to pull you out,' I tease him.

Rick tries to hide the fact that he's chuckling, as Maggie asks him what he was doing in a dumpster.

'We'd lost everything. We were searching for supplies, but I saw some yellow boots and I wanted them for Harley.'

Everyone croons, Awwww.

'I remember those boots, actually.' Beths recalls. 'What happened to them?'

'I fed them to the cows,' I shrug, so I don't gotta bring up the farm, where I left them in our tent the night it all burned down.

'Hey. I risked my life for those boots.'

Rick corrects him, 'I think you risked your ass, is what she just said.'

'It's what I said.'

'I got one.' My Dad says, dipping a cracker in some peanut butter. 'The day we put Glenn in the well.'

'Remember how he squealed?,' T-Dog giggles.

'No,' Glenn tries to convince us, doing a very bad job of it. 'I don't remember that. Never happened.'

'That walker was next-level gross.'

Next in the line to share, I decide, 'My favorite moment is when I found Mouse.'

'He loves you, doesn't he?,' Maggie smiles.

I throw him another piece of salami, hoping that the answer would be yes.

Carl tells everyone his favorite moment from this year was sneaking off into the woods with me, but his parents both give him a look, so he wisens up and changes his answer to something a little less totally forbidden; going to shooting practice.

When it's Lori's turn, she mentions a time she pushed Carl on the Greene's swing.

Rick's favorite moment is beating Herschel at checkers, something that the old man lets him get away with sharing.

'Gotta be seeing Daryl wake up after surgery,' T-Dog says after that, startling me with how suddenly sentimental it is.

The firelight flickers back and forth on the rug for a few moments.

My Dad subtly replies, Thanks, man.

'I was gonna say that, too,' I say to be funny.

'Yeah,' Glenn backs me up. 'You totally were. In fact, I change my answer, too. Favorite moment; Meeting Maggie.'

The woman pouts up at him, grabbing his hand, threading their fingers together.

'I change mine, too.' Dad says. 'The moment I found out Harley wasn't bitten.'

'That's mine, too.'

'Me, too,' Just about half the group nod, agreeing.

Then, everyone's coming up with different answers, talking over the top of each other. Bringing Harley back safe from the gas station, is T's second answer, but he also has a third and fourth and a fifth, because he just can't pick one. Making it outta the CDC alive. Finding the farm. Saving Glenn after he gave blood. Herschel's favorite moment is all the moments he's kept his daughters safe, an answer that earns him a big hug from both Maggie and Beth this time, because, I don't know what I'd do without my girls.

Rick and Glenn finding Daddy safe, Beth says, and then Maggie; That's mine, too.

I find myself with a hundred new answers, too. The moment Jacqui and I kicked up all them butterflies outta the grass as we ran to the house, after she told me my Daddy was alive. The morning Maggie made us scrambled eggs and tea for breakfast. All them times I shared a peach with someone while we sat in the sun. Lori making that joke about Maggie and Glenn being in love, and how I gagged at it back then. I can't forget about the time Carl hugged me as I cried, as Dad cut my hair, as I petted a cow's nose or fed a chicken.

All the little things and the big things, but also all the sad things. In a way, I'm grateful for them, too.

If Jacqui was here, or Sophia, or Momma or Meemaw, or my cousins, who could be anywhere by now, dead or alive, or Morales or Eliza or Louis or Miranda, who I ain't sure if I'll ever see again, or even our dog Tank, I like to think they'd be grateful for me, too.

'I told you, didn't I?,' Herschel smiles. 'No better present.'

After that — After Glenn starts to tear up and we all tease him for it — We decide to wrap it up for the night.

'I love you guys,' He blubbers, like we didn't already know, like we haven't almost died for each other a hundred times over.

Okay, buddy, Dad's saying, reaching to pat his shoulder.

'I think it's time to turn in.'

Beth covers her mouth as she yawns. 'Yeah. I'm so tired.'

'Tell me if anybody sees Santa Claus,' T-Dog says non-committedly.

'I'm going to grab the blankets and pillows from upstairs.' Rick announces, standing up. 'Who's on first watch? Me?'

I'll do it, My Dad offers, letting Maggie comfort Glenn, but he's turned down.

He was frostbitten from head to toe only yesterday. I wouldn't let him out there, neither.

I can do it, T-Dog decides, and that's that. 'Maybe it'll be me that sees him.'

No fair, Carl whines.

Rick leaves and brings back down a whole bunch of bedding that he plops on the floor, giving everyone free reign to pick out what they want as T makes himself scarce. I pull out a small pillow and what must be a toddler's blanket, letting Dad help me get settled on the sofa. I lay with my head against one arm rest, Carl resting his against the other. Both our Dads tuck us in.

'Goodnight,' He signs to me, knelt just beside the sofa. 'You still hungry or thirsty?'

I shake my head, yawning. 'Just sleepy.'

'You were very brave today.' He tells me, earnest eyes boring into mine. 'Not many kids would do what you did.'

'I just wanted to help Lori and the baby.'

'I know. They got a better chance, now.'

'Does that mean I get to name the baby?'

He smirks a little bit. 'We'll see.'

I glimpse Beth muttering to Hershel over Dad's shoulder, sharing a big blanket. I sign, 'Would Momma be proud, too?'

His face falls. The words hit him right in the heart, a poisonous bolt. All he says is, 'Yes.'

'Good,' I manage to reply, right before my eyes start to droop closed.

'Goodnight,' He signs again.

Placing a kiss to my cheek, my Dad pulls back and lays his own blanket down on the floor in front of me, laying facing the fire.

Rick was right. This is a Hell of a lot better than those garages back in Newnan.

I would like to help T-Dog spot Santa, I really would, but I just can't stay awake even one moment longer.

I'm being shaken gently.

Groaning, I open my eyes. Dad's face is inches from mine, all the windows behind him filled with grey daylight.

Adjusting the crossbow on his shoulder, he signs, 'Good morning.'

'Good morning.'

Sitting up, I groggily take in the sight of the group still laid out across the room, fast asleep. All except for Dad, and also Rick and Carl. I see them standing in the archway, both dressed for the snow just like Dad is, whispering to each other.

'Get your coat,' Dad says, and before I get the chance to ask what's going on; 'We're going searching for presents.'

We're what?!

After waking Glenn and putting him on watch, the four of us set out into the neighbourhood. The sun slowly rises from behind the falling snow, eclipsing the roofs of the houses around us and washing the morning in a soft, pink and yellow hue. It's quiet, peaceful, just how it always is before the day fully starts. Carl, Mouse, and I are rowdily running down the sidewalk, disturbing it all.

It's Christmas. According to us, it's Christmas, and ain't nobody here to tell us otherwise!

Dad and Rick follow after us until we make it to the park, the two oldies totally left in our dust as we make a beeline for the playground and pounce on the metal merry-go-round. It's been so long since I went on one of these. It feels like we're breaking a rule, a rule that nobody said aloud, but we ain't. Our Dads told us loud and clear that today, we're allowed to do whatever we want.

I'll spin us, Carl's laughing as he pushes on one of the handles, Mouse wisely standing back.

I still remember to hold on tight. Here we go!

Once he's picked up enough speed, he makes a jump for the platform. He skids around like a drunk, landing on his ass. He hugs the closest handle. The world spins into a multi-coloured smear. I just can't stop laughing, not even if I tried.

As the ride slows down, it feels like I'm 'bouta hurl up all that salami I ate last night.

Again!, I shout.

The next time we come to a stop, we round on the sight of Dad and Rick standing off to the side, watching us.

'Wanna get pushed?,' My Dad asks us, nodding to the swings.

I jump off the platform. 'Yes!'

Rick effortlessly peels the dead walker I saw yesterday offa the seat, throwing it aside and helping me on. I'on know how long we swing for, but the warm, pink sun spills and spills between the trees until it's on my face, making me forget the cold.

Spring is right around the corner, now.

This whole nightmare is almost over. I can just tell.

One of these days, the sun will crest the horizon and the snow just won't come.

It doesn't take long for us to make it back to town square.

'Where should we start?', Rick asks.

'I want to look in Petey's,' I answer right away, pointing to the storefront. 'But Carl can't come.'

Obviously, it's because I'm gonna be picking something out for him, which is why he starts giggling when Dad translates.

Rick ruffles the boy's hair, nudging him in the opposite direction. 'It's a plan. We'll search over here.'

'There's a toy store that way,' Dad adds helpfully.

'We'll check it out. Good luck.'

'Good luck. Watch out for elves.'

He laughs a bit as I whistle for Mouse, who runs after us. 'We will.'

Passing barrels of wrinkled flowers, Dad sticks his fingers between the automatic glass doors and forces them open, pulling his crossbow down as they roll apart on the tracks. Out of the darkness, a human-shaped shadow stumbles toward us.

It drops to the floor before it can even open its mouth.

Lowering his crossbow, Dad nods me forward, tugging his bolt outta the walker's wet face.

Look around, He says, wiping the blood off on his thigh.

The first thing I check is the comic section, of course. I'm hoping they got the series Carl likes, the one with the kick-ass astronauts and the evil aliens on the cover that I can't remember the name of. Captain Noel and the Astronauts, or something like that. I read it just the other week while he was dozed off, just to see what all the fuss was about. Weren't hard to see why he likes it.

As I step over a fallen sale sign, Mouse sniffs around the shelves, skulking around the corner.

Approaching the display stand, I skip right over the magazines and check out the comics, flicking through the covers. There's pictures of supervillain scientists, monsters, ninjas in impossible poses, wielding metal stars. They's all dumb-looking, so I'm sure Carl would eat them up like hot cakes for breakfast, but I really want the alien one. He been after the next volume since we met him.

There's a tap on my shoulder.

Hm?

Glancing up at Dad, I watch as he pulls a comic down from the highest rack, holding it out for me to see.

Captain Nate and the Awesome Eight, The quirky logo reads. 

Grabbing it up like it might disappear before my eyes, I feel the pages crinkle under my fingers. This is the one!

Volume Four, It says at the bottom. The final mission.

I hold up three fingers to Dad.

Understanding, he flips through the comics again before handing me the third volume.

I take it, hugging them both to my chest before signing, 'These are for Carl. He loves them.'

'Really? I thought they were for Beth.'

Pssh. He ain't funny. 'Let's keep looking. We need something for her, too!'

He puts the comics in my backpack for me, following me around the store to continue our hunt for the perfect presents.

For Beth, I find a couple bottles of nail polish in the tiny makeup display, throwing in a black tube-thing that reads, Mascara, along with them for Lori, or maybe for Maggie. I ain't sure. I ask Dad what he thinks, but he got even less of a clue than I do.

I decide to throw in a second tube and some eyeshadow thingies just to be safe.

For Rick and Herschel, we decide on a pair of woolly socks for each of them. You just can't go wrong with socks.

When we find some shirts with silly phrases on them, I know instantly that they would be perfect for Glenn and T-Dog.

Lastly, Dad makes us grab a bunch of random things that we need, like canned food and lighters, before we turn into the pet aisle. Mouse is there, nosing a package of tennis balls along the floor. He looks confused when they roll under the shelves. I crouch down, pulling them back out. It looks like he found his own present. He watches me stash them in my bag, pink tongue lolling happily. 

On our way out, I pass by the rack again, stealing a girly magazine off it that I think Carol will like.

Carl and Rick meet us back on the street, both their backpacks suspiciously fatter than they were the last time we saw them.

'How'd it go?'

Good, Rick says, as Carl tries to get a peek inside my bag. 'Want to swap?'

Before the boy gets to close, I fend him off, giggling as he wrestles me.

'Sure.' Dad pulls him offa me. 'Hard to get a present for your kid when they're right beside you.'

'Exactly.' Rick chuckles, offering his hand to me.

I take it, blowing a raspberry at Carl's back as he walks off with my Dad in the opposite direction.

The store Rick and I check out is the record store, Jameson's Jams, just across the way. After he scopes the place out, coming up empty, it's safe for us to go in. The smell of dust and plastic swarms us I look around at the tubs of record sleeves and CDs.

'It used to be tidy in here,' I sign to him, even though he could prolly guess that.

The doors close behind him, shutting the snow out.

' Did you go here often?'

'All the time.' I meander up to the nearest bin. 'My parents loved music.'

As I pick up an edgily-decorated sleeve that catches my eye, Rick steps up to my side.

'Something tells me their music taste clashed,' He jokes. 'Am I right?'

No. 'They both had bad taste.'

Scoffing, I throw the sleeve back, walking around to the other side of the tubs.

Chuckling to himself, he glances down at the record I'd been holding. It fits my Dad to damn T. I don't take it with me, though, because we ain't got no way to play it. It'd just be a waste of space, so I crack open a CD instead, taking out the paper.

Tossing the useless part back in the bin, I look up to see Rick already looking at me.

He's frowning, his brown hair poking out from underneath his beanie, curled over his faint wrinkles.

'What?,' I gesture impatiently.

What's he want?

I hate to admit it, but there's a little stain of bitterness left inside me after what he did to my Momma's photo.

It weren't like it was on purpose, but it didn't have to be.

'I'm sorry,' He signs, the tubs separating us by at least ten feet feeling more like a hundred.

'It's okay,' I brush it off. 'I'm not mad at you.'

'I know. Trust me, I can tell when you're mad at me,' He smiles for a fleeting moment. 'I'm apologising, anyway.'

'That was the only photo I had of her, you know.'

'I know.'

'Her name was Lindsey.'

'I know. Your Dad talks to me about her, sometimes.'

'Why did you throw it?'

He pauses, picking at a sticker on the wood before fessing up, 'Shane makes me angry, honey. I was angry. I threw it.'

'Angry? Not sad?'

'No. Not sad.' He shakes his head. 'We were all past that when we saw the truck leaving the farm.'

'He gave me the locket. My Dad threw it away the night you burned the photo.'

'Yes, I know. He talked to me about that, too.'

'He did?'

'He was going to let you keep it.'

'Why didn't he?'

'You know why.'

Yeah. I do. I don't even know why I asked that. He threw it away for the same reason I'm not allowed to talk about Ronnie.

Rick changes the subject, the tension in his shoulders melting away as he signs, 'Thank you. Again.'

'For the hospital?'

He nods. 'You were brave.'

'Dad said the same thing.'

'It's true. Even I would have been scared, and I'm thirty-four years old.'

'You're never scared.'

'I'm scared all the time.' I'm pretty sure he didn't mean to say that. I wait until he says something else. 'Thank you.'

Hell. He shouldn't make me laugh like that. I'mma breathe in all this dust. 'You're worse than Glenn.'

'What do you mean?'

'You can't stop saying 'Thank you'. He can't stop saying 'Sorry'. Feet hurt. Sorry. My ears ring. Sorry. It's funny.'

'He's sensitive,' Rick agrees fondly.

'I know. He cried last night.'

A muted chuckle. 'That's right. He did.'

As I look off to the side, something on the wall catches my eye.

Guitars. A lot of them.

Abandoning the piece of paper, I run over to them, stepping onto a chair and pulling down an electric guitar.

Rick is eye-level with me when he comes over. 'Your Dad said he knows how to play.'

Nodding, I give the strings a dramatic thrum.

It must be painful, going by the way Rick looks like he's just heard nails going down a chalkboard.

I can't help but laugh, turning to hook it back up. Like the record and the CD, it would just be a waste of space. Electric guitars don't sound so good if you don't got anything to plug them into. Acoustic ones, however, they're perfect anywhere.

Hopping onto to the next chair over, I pull down a classically wooden guitar, cold to the touch. 

When I strum this one, Rick gives a thumbs up. It'll need tuning, but that's a piece of cake.

Jumping down, I have a thought.

'How the Hell do we hide this from him?'

He looks the thing up and down. 'We might have to give it to him now.'

Aw. 'That's not as fun.'

'How about this — You hide behind me. When we see him, you jump out. Is that fun?'

Hmmm. 'Okay. Let's do that!'

Carl's a lot harder to appease than I am, which must be the reason Rick lets out a little sigh of relief. 'Great.'

'It needs a shoulder strap,' I decide, grabbing one from the rack nearby and ripping it outta the plastic. I try to figure it out, turning it over to get a good look, but then I just pass it off to Rick's mittened hands. 'You know how to put it on?'

'Let me try.' He accepts the challenge, kneeling in front of the guitar.

Buttoning each end of the leather strap to the metal attachments, it looks like he's got it.

He hands it back, raising his brows at me. 'Remember to jump out. We have to get him to crap his pants.'

'It's a plan.'

Before we meet back up, we stop by the thrift store next door so that Rick can grab the shirt he'd had in mind for Carl, a simple thing with a superhero he likes on the chest. As we leave through the front doors, Rick herds me in behind his back.

We're only waiting in town square for a minute or two before he signals me that they're coming over.

When I feel the time is right, I jump out!

Rahh!

Dad don't quite crap his pants, but his eyes do widen ever so slightly. In Dixon terms, he's chilled to the bone.

My back-up man watches on, laughing.

I hold out the guitar once the moment's passed, hoping it's obvious that this is his Christmas present.

Woah, breathes Carl as my Dad takes it carefully, Mouse's tail batting around wildly at his ankle.

We watch as he drags his thumb down the strings, remembering what it feels like. Slowly, he starts to smile.

Looking up at me, he seems very, very pleased. 'Thank you. I love it.'

'Merry Christmas!'

'We knew we couldn't hide it from you,' Rick explains, 'So we scared you instead.'

'Did it work?'

Dad nods, frowning as he mouths the word, Terrifying, before kneeling to wrap me in a hug. I kiss his cheek.

'Did you get everything you wanted?'

Nodding again, Dad stands and passes the guitar to Rick, seeing as he's already wearing his crossbow.

Pulling it on, Rick nods in the direction we came from. 'Let's head back, then.'

We make it only five feet before we notice Carl isn't following us.

Looking back at him, he points at the parking lot across the street.

We follow his finger.

Across the street, the lonely bike with the streamers still lays there in the snow, next to a couple other bikes.

We glance between each other, a glint of something cheeky in our eyes.

We're all thinking the same thing, ain't we?

It's a long walk, anyways.

Who the Hell bikes in the snow, is what a sensible person would ask themselves as they saw us race past their house.

We do!, is what I'd shout back at them.

We're zooming down the streets of Sharpsburg like we're late for a wedding, the most ridiculous sight the apocalypse ever did see. Rick, taking the lead just like always, with a guitar bumping around on his back as he pumps the peddles of a pink bike. Carl on the little one, its rainbow streamers blowing out on either side of him without a care in the world. Mouse, sprinting to keep up.

He's going so fast; I think his ears might just fly off and smack me in the face!

It's a challenge to not fall off the handlebars of Dad's bike just from laughing so hard.

I clutch onto it harder as we crest over the top of a hill. Rick goes flying down first, then Carl. Dad wraps an arm around my stomach, hugging me to his chest as we both laugh against each other. We're next. My stomach lurches. My toes go numb. Then we're free-falling, and the tyres are shaking beneath us and the handlebars are jiggling all over the place, the wind racing past us.

Sucking in a deep breath, I let out a shriek of, Wuh-Hooooooo!

My heart's beating outta my chest like when a walker's got me in its grasp, when I feel most alive.

Whatever day I've said is the best day of my life — This is it, now. Hands down.

Rick reaches the bottom first, doing a fancy little skid in the snow and glancing over his shoulder at us to see our reaction.

Carl gives him a thumbs down, making him laugh as he turns back around.

The hill flattens out into more suburbia.

We slow down to a more leisurely pace for the rest of the ride back, and simply enjoy the morning together, trailing the sidewalks like a bunch of kids. The sun is well into the sky now, shining through the frigid air without any clouds to cover it up.

When I spot the house in the distance, I'm almost sad.

As we pull into the driveway, bumping over the curb, Glenn stands from his seat on the porch steps.

Hey, guys, He's laughing, perplexed.

Rick answers him with a few flicks of his bell, braking to a stop.

Where'd you go?, He asks, as I jump down from the handlebars.

Carl dumps his bike on the ground and holds up his backpack, shouting, Presents!

He gawks. No shit?

No shit!, He exclaims, running straight past him and up the porch.

I catch Rick sharing a funny look with my Dad, but he lets the swear word go. It's that type of day.

The adrenaline-high don't leave my body even as I follow everyone inside the house, stepping into the busy lounge room. We're greeted by the rest of our group, who are more than awake by now, hugging us as we come through the archway. They're completely beaming. It's obvious. They've heard the great news — We went out in the early morning to do Santa's bidding, for no other reason than because we managed to live long enough to, and because we deserve it. For once, we can ignore everything else and it'll all be okay.

Shrugging off my backpack, I set it down on the coffee table. Carol and Herschel tidy away the empty snack packs as Dad, Rick, and Carl set theirs down, too. Everybody's eyeing the bags excitedly, tryna see if they can make out the goodies inside.

'You guys are sneaky,' T grins, wide enough to show off the gap between his two front teeth. 'Sneaky!'

'Where did you go?!,' Maggie wants to know.

She lounges back on the sofa, Mouse jumping into her lap.

'Town square.' Rick's looking livelier than he has all Winter; all year, maybe. 'We left while you were all asleep.'

T seems to have an epiphany. 'It's you guys!'

'What?,' He asks.

'You're Santa!'

Realizing the man is pulling our legs, Rick rolls his eyes.

Carl goes on to ramble all about our adventures. By the way he's miming it all out, I can tell he ain't leaving out our visit to the playground. Everyone's watching him with nothing but joy in their eyes, adding comments here and there, laughing.

When Beth notices the guitar, my Dad proudly shows it off to the room.

'Harley found it,' He signs, reigning everyone back in, reminding them to use signs. 'Pretty, ain't it?'

Herschel turns to look at me. 'What a wonderful, wonderful gift.'

'I got more,' I tease, giving my backpack a tempting wiggle. I can't wait to give out the rest of the presents!

'Let's just get right into it then, right?,' Rick suggests. 'Go crazy.'

That's all the permission anyone needs.

As the three of them open their backpacks and start handing out presents left and right, I get to opening mine.

The first things I pull out are the stupid shirts for Glenn and T-Dog, walking over to them and putting them in their hands. Maggie's laughing her ass off as they hold them up to their chests, cluelessly peering down at the text. I step back to admire my work. Sorry I'm late, T's shirt reads, and Hell, it's even funnier than I imaged it would be, I was doing my hair! I think he's laughing something like, You little punk, before he glances over at Glenn's to see the damage. I'm with stupid, His says, except the arrow is pointing at his face.

Aw Hell naw!, T-Dog unabashedly laughs.

'Put them on!,' I demand, taking the fabric in my hands. Glenn helps me out, pulling it over what he's already wearing and straightening it out so the message is on full display. T-Dog does the same thing, even if he does call me a punk again.

'How do we look?,' Glenn asks me and Maggie when they're done, giving a stiff twirl.

'Don't answer that,' T-Dog says.

I give Maggie her gift next, the Mascara. She plants a kiss on my cheek and pulls me in for a tight hug, releasing me so I can head over to the other ladies. Carol gratefully takes the magazine, Lori and Beth Oohing and Aahing over the makeup.

It's no 'Electric Spring Citrus', but Beth still seems very touched by the bottle of yellow polish.

Next, I pull out the tennis balls. Boy, does that get Mouse's attention. I rip off the seal, sending them all bouncing across the living room floor, almost tripping some people over. Mouse darts after this one and that one, chasing them all over the place as I hand the socks to Herschel and Rick. They're both delighted, taking turns giving me a hug. We was right. Ya can't go wrong with socks.

'Carl and your Dad have something for you,' Rick tells me as he pulls away, pointing over to them.

I tap Carl on the shoulder, and when the two of them turn around and realize me, his face lights up.

Harley!, He's exclaiming.

He digs through his bag and holds out my two presents. 

'Thank you!,' I sign, taking them. Oh, wow. A diary and a packet of colored pencils. I don't gotta squeeze my thoughts into the margins, no more. I got fresh, blank pages, enough to prolly last me a whole year. Giving Carl a hug, I hold up a finger; Wait.

Reaching into my backpack and feeling out the comics, I pause just to be dramatic, before I pull them out for him to see. His jaw drops as he snatches them up. All them months hearing him complain, and watching him read the same volume over and over, makes it all the more satisfying to see him flick through the pages, realizing with mounting horror that it's everything he dreamt of.

Thank you, He's shouting, Thank you!

'Wanna see what I got you?,' Dad says next. 'You can both play with it, but it's for you, okay?'

'Okay! Show me!'

Carl and I crouch down with him as he unzippers his backpack. What he pulls out is not like anything I would've expected.

A big, flat white box with a photo on the front of some kids kicking a soccer ball into a little pop-up goal in the sun.

'Can't play soccer without a goal.' He smirks as I take the box in my hands, ready to tear it open with my teeth if I gotta.

They both help me pick the tape off the cardboard, pulling it open and turning the whole thing upside down. The goal slides out. Having finally been broken out of the confines of its box, it immediately springs into shape, almost smacking us all in the face.

Dodging it with a laugh, I exclaim, 'Thank you, Dad!' 

'Do you like it?,' He asks.

'I love it! How do we set it up?'

Looking about, he finds a small baggie of metal stakes that fell out with it, and a page of instructions.

I lean in closer to take a peek as he skims over them, but it all looks simple enough.

'Easy,' He decides. 'We can set it up in the front yard, yeah?'

'Yeah. I'm gonna smoke you both so bad.'

Dad thwacks my arm with the piece of paper. 'Hey. Who said I'm playing?'

'Oh. So, you're scared.' I nod empathetically, feeling smug. 'That's okay. I'm rusty, too.'

'Seriously?'

'I only won three medals when I was in school.'

'I'm old, kid. I'm in my thirties. I'm pretty much dead.'

'Loud and clear. You're scared of losing.'

He rolls his eyes. 'You're a brat. Don't cry when you lose.'

'I've never cried in my life, Dad. Ask Carl.'

As soon as he passes on the question, Carl levels me with the most, Get serious, expression I ever seen in my life.

Whatever. 'I'll still win!'

'We'll see,' He says as I glance at the rest of the group.

'This was so thoughtful of you guys,' Maggie signs from her seat on the sofa, doing that little pout she does.

With all the presents handed out, I take my time looking around the room. T and Glenn are still wearing their t-shirts, of course. If I could have it my way, they wouldn't ever wear anything else. It looks like Rick and Carl gifted Glenn a magazine about race cars, and T-Dog a flashy, gold chain necklace that he manages to make look cool. Lori and Herschel are wearing new matching jackets, the material purple and puffy. They look like father and daughter, sitting there like that, Lori's head resting on the old man's shoulder. Beside them, Carol's blowing air onto Beth's painted nails, while Mouse lays on the floor, gnawing at the tennis ball he must've decided is his favorite.

And Rick. He's not pouring over a map. He's not frowning to himself as he cleans a gun. He's not snapping at one of us to, Stop that, We need to stay focused. He's just smiling faintly next to Glenn, refusing to reveal to anyone this was all his idea.

'I'm just glad there's no wrapping paper to clean up this year,' He chuckles, looking at Lori.

The woman smirks, shaking her head. Bad memories, I guess.

'Every year,' He continues, gesturing to an invisible pile in his lap, 'We would end up with this much.'

'You're not the only ones.' T-Dog scoffs, like this is a lifelong issue he's faced.

'Oh, yeah. You were a garbage man, weren't you?,' Glenn remembers.

'Minimum wage, brother,' He agrees, bringing the pizza-boy in for a bro-hug.

'What have you got there, Harley?,' Maggie asks as they pull apart.

'A soccer goal,' I excitedly answer, before holding up Rick and Carl's presents. 'And a diary and pencils!'

'I don't want you to think it's for schoolwork with Lori,' Rick says. 'Carl just told me he's seen you journalling.'

'I love it,' I shake my head. 'Thank you.'

That bitterness that I'd been feeling toward him, it disappears just as quickly as it came.

'You haven't been writing anything bad about me, have you?,' Glenn asks threateningly.

'Just a little bit,' I shrug.

'She's a brat, isn't she?,' My Dad jokes.

'She's a total brat.'

'Hey! I don't like you, either.'

'Well, Merry Christmas, everyone.' Maggie says to wrap things up. 'Time to take this outside. We got a game to play.'

'Sounds like it,' Rick agrees.

'Come on.' Dad stands back up, grabbing the soccer goal and the stakes.

Jumping up and pulling on Maggie's sleeve, I exclaim up at her, 'We should be on the same team!'

'Girl power,' She agrees, frowning stubbornly as we descend the porch steps.

Mouse goes running out into the snow with his tennis ball. Dad heads over to the fence, setting down the goal and pushing the stakes through the rubber loops to secure it to the ground. I tell him I hope he did a good job of it, because me and Maggie are gonna be making every goal we shoot for. It's Dad and Carl versus us two girls, so the competition is even fiercer. We gotta win!

'We got this,' Maggie goads as T-Dog takes up the goalie position.

Carol pumps her fist in the air. 'Let's go, girls!'

Everyone starts cheering us on as Maggie kicks the ball straight over to me. The game's begun! I stop it with my foot, watching as she skirts around Dad, shouting for me. I boot it back to her at just the right moment, running forwards.

Maggie dukes Dad, left, right, left, before she kicks it right between his feet and back to me.

I stop it again with my foot.

Carl's on me, suddenly. He tries to use his foot to steal the ball away from me, but I don't let him!

Keeping him at arm's length, I line up my shot with the goal. I've done it a million times before. What's one more!

I rear my foot back, and—!

T-Dog's far too big and slow to see it coming. The ball shoots right past him — Goal! — and crashes into the meshing.

'Point for the girls,' Rick announces from the sidelines.

Maggie runs up to me, grabbing my hands and squealing happily, with the boys sulking together in the background.

We end up winning. There's a few close calls here and there, but we're just too quick on our feet for them to really get any smooth moves in. As the winning goal is made by Maggie, Carl stomps his foot into the snow, complaining, Aww, man!

We use every last bit of energy we have left in us to play for the rest of the morning. For once, not just for getting out of bed, or making it through the day. We manage to get a couple more rounds of soccer in before somebody throws a snowball at my Dad while he's trying to kick a goal, and then it all devolves into a snowball fight. There's no teams or rules; just clumps of snow flying across the yard, people falling over, Rick laughing, and Glenn getting dogpiled to the ground until Dad has to come and rescue him from us.

Nobody's really winning, but I don't think anyone's keeping count, anyway. Nobody's losing, either.

Except maybe Carl, when he tanks a snowball directly to the face.

I gasp. Youch!

He wipes it off with a grin, scurrying off to start preparing some returning fire.

I hurry to join him behind the wall of snow, bulking up my snowball before launching it at one of the adults.

It hits Glenn in the jaw. He lurches; falls onto his ass.

Me and Carl share a high five!

To think I was dreading coming back to this town, when it's actually given me one of the best days of my life.

Is it bad I'm happy the world ended?

Probably, but I don't care.

FIVE MONTHS LATER.

I can hear light birdsong in the trees.

We've stopped again, on some highway or other. I'on know. They all look the same to me. Grey road, winding up a hill, flanked on both sides by a strip of dirt and twigs. While the others get outta the cars, slamming their doors shut and grouping together to discuss what's next, I turn my head away from them and gaze out the passenger side window. The sun warms my face. I remember back during the Wintertime; we hardly ever saw the sun. Hell. That was forever ago. Nowadays, we been fending off heatstroke, feels like.

I close my eyes, relishing in the sounds around me. Leaves brushing, idle engines rumbling.

There are a lot of moments like this for me, where I'll just ignore what everyone else is doing and listen. I'll listen to anything. The car radio, if anybody's got it playing, even if it's a song I don't like. A river flowing. A deer trilling. It's the best part of my day.

"We got nowhere else to go," Herschel's suddenly saying, and then I'm opening my eyes again.

The group is gathered around the hood of the car I'm sat up in, splaying a map out for them to study.

"When this herd meets up with this one," Maggie points, "We'll be cut off. We'll never make it South."

"What'd you say it was? About 150 head?" Dad estimates.

"That was last week." Glenn's shaking his head, squinting against the sun. "It could be twice that by now."

I've heard this exact conversation about thirty times over by now.

That herd from last year; It's thawed and split into two, and neither are getting any smaller. The more they walk, the more they pick up. It's how it's always gone. They been following us, and we been running. That's how that's always gone, too.

We had a couple places we holed up for a while. Sharpsburg served us well while it lasted, but we had to move, eventually.

Now, we're back on the run.

"The river could've delayed them," Herschel suggests. "If we move fast, we might have a shot to tear right through here."

"Yeah, but if that group joins with that one, they could spill out this way."

"So, we're blocked."

We're always blocked, I want to tell Maggie. You know this by now.

In moments like these, I think back to the day we had that snowball fight and try to remember what everyone's smiles looked like.

"Only thing to do is double back at 27," Rick says, "And swing back this way."

Rick's different. For Rick, I think back to the bike ride.

T-Dog's getting frustrated. "We picked through that place, already. It's like we spent the past five months going in circles."

"Yeah, I know. I know."

"Is this what we're doing, then?"

When Rick nods, T-Dog asks him, "Is it alright if we head down to the river to fill up on water, then?"

"Sure. Knock yourself out," He says as they disperse, Maggie rolling up the map.

Herschel whispers something to Rick, then, and I can't quite catch it. My hearing aids ain't that good, but I know it's about Lori because they glance over at her in the car behind me. It's probably the, She can't keep doing this, conversation. Like always, Rick's wiping his sweaty forehead, bullshitting his way through an answer, and like always, Herschel is patient with him. They know he's right.

Lori's about to burst, way her stomach's been looking these days. She's gonna give birth any day now.

I'm just glad she got better and stayed better.

That was a nasty sickness.

Herschel leaves Rick to think about what he's said, making an opening for Dad to ask him to go hunting.

I'm surprised when he turns to me. "You wanna come, chicken?"

There's that Southern twang I once forgot the sound of.

'Come hunting with you?,' I sign, just outta habit. Sometimes, my voice is just too loud for me to bare.

"Yeah. You can stretch yer legs a little. How 'bout it?"

Not wanting to spend one more second in this car, I agree by opening the door and jumping onto the tarmac.

He whistles for Mouse, and then we're walking into the treeline.

"Carl says it was blue, but the boy's blind," I ramble to Rick as we walk along the train tracks, keeping an eye out for animals.

"Between the pair'a ya," Dad muses from in front of us. "You almost make a full vegetable."

"Shut up, Daddy. You ain't funny."

He snickers a little before facing forward again, crossbow at the ready. "Sure I ain't."

"Anyway." I sigh as he pushes a leafy branch outta the way. Rick ducks under it, and then me. "Like I's sayin'—"

When I look up, the sight that greets me has all words dying on my tongue. I slowly catch up with Dad and Rick, who have also completely forgotten about the story I was telling. It weren't very interesting, anyway. Something about a frog Carl and I found the other day. The sun beats down on us as we look out over the sheer drop just in front of us, and at the rolling, green hills in the distance.

Well, I'll be goddamned.

That right there is a whole ass prison.

End Notes.

Okay that's it. I cannot edit this chapter any longer. What's done is done!!

WE ARE FINALLY IN SEASON 3 !! It only took a year and 28 chapters.

I'm very glad to be back in canon again, but writing Christmas with the group was so fun. Also very glad to be able to write Daryl's accent and slang properly again haha. It just didn't translate into sign language. I know some of you will also be relieved that we're not using it much anymore.

As always, I really hope you enjoyed!

Thanks for reading! Until next time! 💙 :)

[scarletsky153]

(another) continuation for that another plot bunny,,

Part 1 | Part 2

--

a bit time-traveling fic of our favorite white hair menace, his three crazy first years students, and the reluctant SIkuna aka hawkuna who just want to rest and enjoy his fourth life without chaos

or

in which i cant stop thinking about the five menaces travelled forward in time to about a year after hawkuna died and got even more confused (and a bit uncomfortable) about sukuna's third life.

this happened after season 1, around late august/early september, so sukuna already spent two months in the past inside yuuji and being trusted Very Reluctantly by megumi and nobara. not yuuji, bcs that pink haired sunshine incarnated trusted SIkuna more, and not gojo, bcs two months are not enough to erase nearly three decades worth of mistrust and apprehension against the King of Curses.

some villain in the future probably has a time-related quirk and SOMEHOW got hold of hawkuna's old feather, and when he (and yuuji) got pulled into the future, the others around him also got pulled bcs they're all near him.

they arrived on a dim-lit old warehouse in a middle of a summoning-like circle, with the villain behind them and, surprise surprise, aizawa and shinsou in front of them. megumi quickly incapacitated the villain while hawkuna yelled at yuuji to switch with him quickly (and yuuji complied which unnerved gojo a bit).

sukuna somehow slide into becoming hawks so smoothly, too smoothly. maybe because he remember being hawks more vividly than being ueno keigo and even sukuna-the-sorcerer, even thought now he has reincarnated as sukuna again. maybe he somehow is more comfortable being human than being a curse.

(but alas, whatever he thought or felt, he is a curse and one day, these sorcerers will kill him for sure. for the survival of itadori yuuji, he will welcome that death. maybe there will be no fifth life for him, and isn't it great to finally rest?)

sukuna : "wait aizawa, shinsou! we're not villains!"

shinsou : "who the fuck are you?"

sukuna, ignoring shinsou bcs he knew his quirk : "aizawa, you still remember protocol TRT, right? this one is TRT situation 02B, you know how to proceed."

aizawa, who regret even leaving his bed this morning : "the fuck did you do, problem child? i thought those protocols are jokes."

sukuna : "one, bold of you to assume that i didn't joke about it, and two, I'M NOT A FUCKING CHILD and not your student either!"

shinsou : "wait, hpsc hidden protocols? they're real?"

sukuna, so done with everything : "yes they're fucking real so can one of you please tell me what year is it now?"

gojo and megumi, having a war flashback : "ugh here we go again."

aizawa : "about a year after your death."

sukuna : "wait aren't you around 50 now? what the fuck are you doing on the field, aizawa?"

shinsou : "he owe me and are you really going to ignore me?!"

aizawa : "it's fine, shinsou, that's definitely hawks. also, i'm not that old."

sukuna : "i know your tricks, shinsou, i help refine some of them. also five years ago you got drunk so bad and complained about your prosthetic, that's why i recommended you as UA's principal."

nobara, so done with everything : "do i have to kill someone to move this conversation to other, more sanitary place?!"

so while aizawa contact hpsc and shinsou took care of the villain, megumi slide closer to hawkuna/yuuji and ask about their power, because they remembered the conversations about curse energy and quirks. gojo, who with his six eyes also saw how curse energy behaved weirdly around the two heroes, as in they pooled behind aizawa's eyes and around shinsou's throat, also very interested with the answers.

sukuna, who knew the two heroes' quirks are public information to some extend : "aizawa can turn off someone's quirks with his eyes, shinsou can brainwash anyone who answer his question. the answers didn't need to be a complete sentence, a simple hum will do."

nobara : "shit, that's powerful as fuck."

soon a big suv arrived and they escort the four time traveler to hpsc side building for interrogation, which sukuna told them if they believe him to be hawks he did remember everything with the exception anything they change after his death, and then he berate the hpsc officer who he also knew about this loophole, and during his rant shinsou laugh because yeah, that's hawks alright.

shinsou : "ah, hawks-senpai, i miss you! life's too dull without you, no one can gang up on bakugou with me like you do."

gojo : "so we knew how hawks like in the past, can you show me hawks in the future like? heard he's some bigshot hero?"

one of the employee then proceed to talk their ears off about hawkuna's accomplishments as japan's top hero and hpsc president, with how he handle the war when he was still 23, how he climb to top 10 before 21, how he protect japan post-war with steadfastness befitting to those with decades more of experience (he did have decades of experience but its not like anyone knew), how even post-retirement he still do good as hpsc president, and even save hundreds of people during a nasty earthquake last year even thought it ended with his death. gojo listened to all of these with ease, masking his disbelief because sukuna, king of curses, a legitimate hero?! that's something, alright.

megumi and nobara also thought those are wild and inaccurate, but then shinsou show them a few videos about hawks saving people. it was very much a mesmerizing and magical sight, because a man, flying? with huge wings, like an angel? sukuna the calamity?

yuuji who saw everything from the inside lamenting about the fact that they didn't have wings now.

sukuna : "shit yeah i miss my wings."

aizawa : "so, you want to tell me about your story and how you came back to life?"

sukuna : "later, i'll wait until everyone arrive. who else did you invite?"

shinsou : "tokoyami obviously, bakugou -because he's the current number one, midoriya -because he's one of the smartest little shit and definitely knew how to handle time travel, todoroki -because you definitely should inform dabi too, miruko -because she will kill me if i dont, hakamata-san and kugo-san because they're basically your parents."

sukuna : "NO THEY FUCKING NOT?! also, how's dabi?"

shinsou : "smooth, man. your husband is alright, still alive and well in prison."

gojo : "you have a husband... AND IN PRISON?!"

yuuji, inside sukuna : "you never tell me?!"

sukuna : "shut up, he's not my husband. and yes, he's a former villain."

nobara then pestered shinsou with more information, while gojo look around the city while contemplating about sukuna being in love with another person. they're in the future, alright, and sukuna didnt lie when he said that in the future curse energy evolve and change humanity. the next few people that came to see hawkuna (and isnt it wild to think that sukuna, the fucking calamity, had friends and co-workers that care about him) are human but more often didnt look like one. hawks intern with a bird head and one of his 'parents' who looks like a fucking killer whale are to name a few.

gojo thought it was wild that hawkuna was short even thought his red wings are magnificent, and then thinking about the possibility of sukuna gained a new set of wings to go with his old body, the tall huge with four arms one. (and if he drooled a bit... well he's still a man and he got a type, ok?!)

when everyone has arrived, sukuna finally told them his story (but not that detailed). how his life as takami keigo aka hawks is not his first but his third, and how his second life as sukuna-the-sorcerer and sukuna the king of curses made him feel very guilty he resolve to save a lot of people after becoming a hero, how he did remember a lot as sukuna and his first life, how when he died he thought that's it but it seems like his life as sukuna hasn't finish yet. he woke up around june 2018 inside yuuji becase the boy they currently see is his vessel, and he foolishly ate one of his finger in which contain his power and soul. he ended his tale with how, one day in 2018, he walk around tokyo with these three and yanked into the future ("definitely not our fault!") and when they checked, the villain did has a time-related quirk and one of his old feather.

tokoyami : "so you became a hero... to atone?"

midoriya : "i think you have done more than enough, hawks-senpai."

sukuna, laughing hysterically : "you don't understand, brat. havent some of you heard about Sukuna? The Disgraced One, the God of Calamity? i was more of a monster than fucking All for One, brats, even thought my reign of terrors are only a few years rather than two centuries like him. how can you scale human lives that was lost during those years? i destroyed hundred thousands of humans, killed them without mercy and even guilt, and you think my atonement as hawks was enough?"

miruko : "yes, fuckface. i didn't know you a thousand years ago, but i knew you for more than two decades. you're a hardworking, caring hero who would rather shouldered all of japan's problems by yourself instead of asking for our helps because you don't want to 'shrink from your duty'. you will say it gruffly, but then you will ruffled your kohai's and employees hair and told them to take care of themselves first, like a fucking hypocrite."

shouto : "we're all there when you passionately defend my brother, a villain who had killed hundred of civilians. you told them about second changes, about how his descend into madness is also a responsibility of a lot of people and not only himself, how our parents, teachers, everyone around us, and society has failed my brother so badly he went mad, but he's not at the point of no return. he can still be helped, and he did get better after you made sure he got the chance to be better."

bakugou : "you must have your own fucking reason about those actions, dipshit, and i had read about heian period, those years are fucking sucks, right?"

hakamata : "you said it yourself, some villains are made, not born, because our society is not and never perfect. but that doesn't mean we can't help those who can and want to be helped, and rehab them into being a better person. you definitely the perfect example of that. instead of becoming one of the most dangerous villain, you became one of japan's best hero."

gojo and his students, who were quiet the whole time, keep thinking about it. if these people, who had been around sukuna for decades but still able to see the best of him, can he really become someone good? not the god of calamity and the king of curses? in a way, they got lucky because sukuna already went through his character development and becoming somewhat a good person, and even when he's currently a curses, he was a human for two and a half lifetime.

in the end, they found out the quirk will pushed them back to their original time in three days, so during those time the four sorcerers plus yuuji found out that sukuna can multitask and very much a busybody. everything he missed before he died he quickly put to rest, including some letters he want to send to his close friends. yuuji definitely became even more attach to sukuna when he saw all those letters.

a day before they need to come back, sukuna finally visit dabi. the four sorcerers have to follow him because the quirk didnt allow them to be far from each other, but the meeting between sukuna and dabi is as private as it can be.

from gojo's pov, it's definitely a heartbreaking scene. they can see them but can't hear their conversations. dabi scarily has his coloring, white hair and blue eyes, pale skin and tall as fuck. but dabi is full of scars, and there's a lot of emotions behind his blue eyes when they saw hawkuna. shouto definitely had told his brother about hawkuna's condition, so when they meet dabi isn't that shocked.

dabi : "that you, pretty bird?"

sukuna, sliding more into becoming hawks it feels scary : "hey, hot stuff, sorry i'm late."

dabi : "you never late, that's how i knew something was off when you didn't visit me after the earthquake."

they talk a bit, but mostly holding hands. yuuji saw the scene with a sad smile. megumi and nobara didn't want to think about whats going to happen next because it's heartbreaking, meeting your lover a year after their death but can only be with each other for a day. in the end, dabi told him off for dying and lectured him about his bad habits and to take care of himself and not to overwork, and sukuna can't help but kiss dabi for the last time.

sukuna : "i hope i could meet you again in the next life."

dabi : "ha, i hope not, because it means you didn't get your rest."

sukuna laugh while trying not to cry, which promptly yanked yuuji outside because he didn't want to cry in front of dabi. yuuji sheepishly introduced himself to dabi, and promised him he would take care of sukuna too like he did yuuji.

in the end, after they got back to the past, gojo ask sukuna whether he could change things now they're back in the past. sukuna didn't think so, the timelines are probably fixed for huge, catastrophic events like the existence of quirks. those things will happen, but the detail? the chain of events that leads to that change? those are lost from history, sukuna-when-he-was-hawks cant find any report about those events.

(sukuna hope the shibuya incident wont end the way it did in 'canon')

(gojo hope he can find out more about this sukuna, the sukuna that was very much different than in the jujutsu's recond. the sukuna that, in his past life, after remembering being sukuna, decided to atone and becoming a hero that was still being remembered and loved even a year after his death).

(gojo thought he will be the one who taught sukuna how to love, but it's more possible that sukuna will be the one who teach him how to live).

--

(feel free to use this long-ass post as inspiration or something!! i... probs gonna write them on ao3, like, maybe??? probably???? yeah,,)

[bogbees]

bunny is like. idk. there's stuff going on and I'm going to try and compose my thoughts ab it.

in Tweek Vs. Craig we get Kenny in home ec learning shit like "i think a trip to Hawaii will really improve our sex life" and being told the likelihood of him marrying a rich man is unlikely, and he's put into shop class for it.

and like. how Kenny ends up traveling to Hawaii with Butters so Butters will be able to chill out — in a way that mirrors the plot of Amok Time, thee sprik episode, the grandaddy of slash fandom.

And how Butters ends up being Kenny's right hand man in the future, both funding the projects and being the only other one who can access the research with voice recognition...

how we just had an episode where Cartman uses Kenny to manipulate Butters into getting what he wants, Butters' Paycheck, all like "Kenny deserves smth nice don't you agree? Do as i say and he'll get smth nice" ab it?? And it's just like "well Butters has always been down to give Kenny money"

the way in Major Boobage Butters is there like "there there buddy" comforting Kenny's brutal withdrawal. the lil drawing Butters made of him and Kenny in Kenny Dies. the way Kenny held Butters hand for most of Going Native.

and the line "I can't believe I had a secret crush on you Princess Kenny!" fr Paladin Butters in The Stick of Truth after Princess Kenny turns bad?? That's real and not smth i dreamed up???

and Mysterion vs. Professor Chaos??? like?????? the whole. hero vs. villain thing????? Mysterion Rises opens with a comic spread of the two fighting even!!

and then there's the Princess Kenny and Marjonne?????? genderqueer bunny??? t4t lesbians?? nonbinary and genderfluid?????? Kenny's interest in boobs ending up being a longing to look like that???

The way Kenny looks like he belongs on a beach in the future???? going back to hawaii?? how he and Butters both have sunglasses on????? how we saw both of their dicks??? no one else had their dicks out, just them??????? how tin foil is crucial to time travel not killing ppl, how professor chaos wears tin foil...

there's just. stuff. stuff i feel absolutely insane to be looking at like this. feels more insane than our schematics of creek that turned out to be canon. batshit crazy ab this

like, Band in China has Butters and Kenny in Stan's death metal band, and while they're trying to make their biopic Butters says this and Kenny looks at him?????? For what purpose animate Kenny's eyes and nothing else besides Butters?¿ He's surely just surprised at how upset Butters got over this, right, yeah, that's all this is, I'm just insane and my bff who got me to watch this show and doesn't care for the fandom aspect going "i remember noticing that when i watched it!" is like. nothing.

im insane looking at the colour of the popsicle. looking at the colour of Butters swim trunks. Butters wears teal, navy and green. Orange??? Orange?????????????

how Catman accuses Stan of inviting Butters but he says he didn't and they all look at Kenny

you need to kill me. Like for real just kill me.

[domesticatedanimal]

FFXIVWrite2024

Prompt 13: Butte

Implied offscreen child harm. This one was an experiment, not my best, but wanted to try out a new style. Dawntrail spoilers.

She Carried Fire

It was nearing noon as the two travelers rode into the tiny town by the railroad tracks. A tavern, a few ramshackle houses, and a low platform of hewn logs serving as a train station. The strangers left their chocobos near the outskirts of town, tying them loosely to the old dead tree near the well. As they stepped toward the tavern, one of the riders lifted a roughly-rolled cigarette to her lips, snapping a spark from her fingertips to set it alight.

Two shetona, by the look of it, one dark as coal, the other pale as snow. Both with ebony black hair that seemed to shed any sunlight that fell on it. As they reached the center of town, the female stopped, standing casually in the dust as her male companion continued to sidle into the tavern.

The woman seemed to be too comfortable for a stranger, though it was true that she had never been here before. With the banditry and violence that had run rampant in Tural since the dome appeared, she should have been terrified. No woman stood alone, outside, unless she had tired of living.

But there was an air about the woman. Some cold shadow that seemed to hang over her, something earned from turning your eyes to the dark corners of the earth, seeing the evil that lived there, and facing it with a smile, again, and again.

A crash rang out from the tavern, glass hitting polished wood. A few moments later, the male returned, slightly faster and with a bit less confidence. He was followed through the door by a massive lump of a man - a new Roe in town that called himself Mud.

Mud was as burly as he was stupid, and in the few short weeks he had been around, he’d already put two card cheats into the dirt. With no sheriff and no guns to turn to, the townsfolk had little choice but to tolerate him, and hope that the next group of bandits through town would recruit him and relieve them of his presence.

But it seemed like that was about to change.

The sun was high, now, burning and heavy in the sky. The air shimmered in the heat. Even the incessant whine of desert insects had fallen quiet. Too hot for crickets, it seemed. The male stranger paused at his companion’s side, whispering something to her, before moving past her toward the opposite end of the street.

Mud stopped in the middle of the road and stared at her. A handful of gawkers had been pulled outside in his great wake, and they now gathered on the porch of the tavern, half-hidden behind old dried out posts.

“There a reason you dust bunnies are interrupting my game?” Mud shouted, laughing to himself about the joke. What he lacked in wit, he made up for in memory, and he had been holding onto that insult for years. "Here to try to evict me?"

The stranger did not bristle. She finished a drag on her cigarette and let the warm butt fall to the dirt.

"This is bigger than that, now," the reply was barely above a whisper, but it carried through the town all the same. "You need to give me some information."

“Is that supposed to be a threat?” A tinge of anger already rose in Mud’s voice. He tossed his ratty poncho over one shoulder, revealing a rusted but menacing looking culverin dangling from his hip. “Who exactly do you think you are?”

The stranger threw open the sides of the dark linen duster that hung over her form, one hand now resting on the handle of a long revolver.

“Today, I'm just a bounty hunter that was supposed to be on vacation.”

The word ‘bounty’ was all the excuse Mud was looking for. With surprising dexterity, he lugged the massive gun up out of its holster, and into a two-handed grip, with the barrel fixated straight ahead.

Two blasts echoed through the town. The first, heavy and booming, as Mud’s weapon fired. The second was metallic and shrill, as his shot went far afield to put a massive dent in the side of the town’s water tower. The bounty hunter didn’t flinch. The bartender could have sworn she shined with a bright orange light, for just a moment, but would decide it was the glare of the sun as he retold the story over the coming years.

She raised her revolver with practiced precision, squeezing the trigger three times. Mud’s gun arm exploded, sending the weapon into the dirt under a pile of gore. The fourth round buried into his thigh, bringing him to his knees, and the fifth into his opposite shoulder, leaving his remaining arm dead and numb.

The stranger approached him, as Mud knelt panting in the dirt.

“Where’d you leave the girls, Mud?”

“What?” He whined, “What fucking girls?”

The stranger drove the barrel of her gun into Mud’s hefty ribs.

“The shetona girls your little posse rounded up last night.” Her thumb clicked back on the gun’s hammer. “I’m not asking twice.”

Mud gulped, blood running in rivulets from his lips.

“Warehouse,” he finally gasped out, “Other side of the tracks.”

“They hurt? You hurt them, Mud?”

“No! No, buyer pays more if they’re fresh.”

“Fresh?”

“He…”

Mud never got to finish that sentence, or any other. There wasn’t much left of him at all, in fact. When she was done, the stranger’s pistol glowed a dull red.

The two Viera riders had been in town for less than an hour, and left behind a story that outlived them both.

[alynnl]

@cakesandfail's post about Vetinari and Vimes got the gears in my head turning. (One can also point out my obsession with Ace Attorney for this plot bunny I'm about to share.)

The idea: What if there was another assassination attempt on Vetinari, and all the forged, circumstantial evidence points to Vimes?

Public opinion is split between those who only have an idea about who Vimes is and think "Of course he did it!" and those who actually know him arguing "Of course he was set up!"

Vimes gets arrested by Carrot, and he goes quietly. It's to show that even he is not above the law. Even the Commander of the Watch has someone who watches him. Carrot is overly polite about it but the arrest is very real.

Vimes has only one request, that Sybil and Young Sam are able to visit him so he can still read to his son every night. This request is granted without question because the accused have the right to see family, no matter the crime.

Carrot, Angua, Cheri, and a few other members of the Watch form their own investigation team to find out what really happened.

Vetinari is fighting for his life. It's touch and go at first but even in a state of fever he has moments of lucidity. In these moments he sends coded messages to Drumknott to give to the task force important information. (He just knows some members of the Watch will rally behind Vimes to find the truth.)

Vimes knows the best thing he can do is wait and see and he hates it. But he also trusts the rest of the Watch to do the right thing.

Things come to a head when Vimes's enemies (Lord Rust and others like him) call for him to be brought to the gallows, while Carrot and company argue with decisive evidence for his innocence. Neither side will budge.

A single voice, saying a single word "Silence." cuts through the crowd. It's none other than Vetinari, who has recovered. And who commends Carrot for his efforts, but points out there is one piece of evidence he's been missing. (It's been with Vetinari all along.)

It's a very specific device, not made by the Guild of Alchemists or Assassins, but by the Cunning Artificers. And every single forged piece of evidence is also linked to this one person, who has been getting people framed for different crimes left and right and profiting off the reward money that comes from turning them in. Vimes and Vetinari were on the verge of catching them, so they raised the stakes to their highest.

The artificer made a miscalculation. They didn't count on Vetinari's recovery or anyone coming to Vimes's defense.

Carrot arrests the artificer, and reads their charges as always. After they're taken away he releases Vimes and there is much cheering, and to everyone's surprise, confetti. Sybil and Young Sam go in for a family hug with Vimes and Vetinari slips away from the fanfare with Drumknott, completely unnoticed.

Carrot and the other watchmen approach Vimes and salute, welcoming him back. He returns the salute and wonders how they managed to pull everything off.

Carrot mentions offhandedly "We did what you would do, sir."

"You mean you called every one of those “clues” fake and every person of interest a suspicious bastard?”

“Well, I didn’t use that language, sir, but I couldn’t stop Angua once she got started.”

“Good on her, I think she’ll be up for a promotion.”

Later that night, long after the fanfare has died down and normal city life assumes, Vimes marches into Vetinari’s office without being summoned. Of course His Lordship is expecting the Commander and greets him with his trademark “Ah, Vimes.”

Vimes hits him with the “You knew” line he often does and Vetinari gives no indication of what he knew at all. Only that things worked out in the end “And isn’t that enough for you?”

This stops Vimes in his tracks because of course it’s enough. They’re both alive and because of that, Ankh Morpork as a whole will be safe. He knows that. He pauses, and then tries to get the last word in, saying that since the case is finally solved, he’s going to spend more time with his family since he missed a week with them as it is.

“Yes, I expect some time at home is long overdue.”

“And one more thing!”

Vimes hand Vetinari a get well card, making it very clear that it was Sybil’s idea, and she wrote it on some very expensive stationery but couldn’t get it to him until now. Vetinari receives it and asks Vimes to send his regards.

They finally part ways, with Vimes unsure of what their meeting really meant (feeling almost like Vetinari was in control even though he approached the Oblong Office first.)

Vetinari, in the meantime returns to a Thud board he’s been playing by correspondence. He makes a move and has Drumknott write down a Clacks code to send it. Drumknott comments that he made a rather daring move.

But sometimes a daring move is what it takes to win the game.

[felice-jaganshi]

Strawberry Scented Love

Radiodust Strawberry Pimp AU

Chapter 3 - Fun and Games

“Sir, you don't plan on firing the men right?”

“Sir, you're not going to have us work crazy long hours, are you?”

“Are we in for pay cuts?”

 

Alastor tossed his head back and laughed, “Now now, not all at once.” He was certainly enjoying the new atmosphere of respect and curiosity they seemed to have, and wanted to encourage it. The more aloof he could seem, the less they'd pester him later. That had been Angel's suggestion anyhow. That as long as he treated them the way he'd treat any coworkers at the radio studio back on earth, he wouldn't have any major problems or complaints and could let the machine run itself.

 

“No one is being outright fired unless they break a major rule or their contract. Business hours are soon to change, they will exist in the realm of the humane. And no, there will not be pay cuts. In fact, I believe you'll be happy to hear more of your hard earned money will be hitting your wallets than ever before.” 

That got him a cheer of joy from everyone. Alastor gave Angel an appreciative look, his advice was working well enough. 

 

“Alright, how about a team building exercise? Hm? There's a fun little game we used to play at the radio studio, called ‘what makes you tick’, I think you all may like it.”

Genuinely he had hated this game when he was alive, it was invasive and asinine… but something told him it would go over better with this crowd.

He summoned a balloon into his hand with his magic. “I'm going to throw this balloon into the air, and whoever catches it has to say one thing that ticks you off. Hence the name of the game. In the spirit of fairness, I shall go first. I loathe dogs. ” His voice dripped with venom, then he threw the balloon up high, giving everyone plenty of time to think or run as it slowly came down.

Some random demon caught it and he hesitantly spoke up, “Uh, I hate when people give me a nickname before I've even told them my actual name.” 

Alastor raised an eyebrow, “Oh? And what is your name?”

“Nathan. But I prefer my stage name Plush.”

“Very well, Plush. Now everyone here knows your name, problem solved!” He chuckled, and Plush blushed and he threw the balloon up. Everyone had fun giving out their mild grievances and commiserating with each other. 

“Ah, nothing binds people together quite like hatred, wouldn't you agree, Beloved?” Alastor turned his head to Angel, who had been spacing out.

Angel snapped back to attention, “O-oh, yeah. Right!” He forced a laugh and smile. 

It was a damn good thing Alastor wasn't into men, or Angel would be in trouble… he could see himself falling in love if Al let him.

Suddenly a bunny girl caught the balloon, she was absolutely tiny! So much so, she was surprised when the balloon landed in her hands instead of anyone else's and froze.

Alastor looked over curiously when he noticed the laughter had died out, “Go on dear, what's something that ticks you off.”

 

“O-oh well… I don't like w-when I have to do shoots with really aggressive scenes…”

Alastor gave Angel a quizzical look. Angel looked over and got a sour taste in his mouth when he saw who was talking, she was about the size of Nifty.

“That's Anna, Val liked to put her in real violent scenes, which leads to more violent sinners requesting one-on-one time with her. Usually they want to ‘recreate’ her shows…”

Alastor looked disgusted. “You're serious?” Angel nodded.

Alastor approached Anna; he hummed, then his shadow scooped her up and brought her into his arms, holding her like a child. “You remind me of a dear friend of mine. Don't worry darling, you'll be safe and sound. I'll never put you in a violent picture show.” He smiled softly and pet her head. She began to relax in his arms, as Alastor walked back to Angel's side. Angel raised an eyebrow at him, but then just shrugged and let it go. Alastor hummed and rocked her back and forth. After a moment, Anna's eyes became heavy, and she made soft bunny squeaks as she fell asleep in his arms.

As the game came to a close Alastor threw the balloon up one last time and had it pop over everyone's heads. Confetti rained down, covering everyone in little bits of paper in a rainbow of colors.

“Alright, everyone head to the break room for cake! I'm sure you all will want to discuss these changes amongst yourselves, I will be in my office if any of you wish to discuss your contracts after you're done. Treat this week as a vacation, starting Monday, there will be a meeting to discuss the new direction the company is taking under my guidance.”

 

After everyone had filed out, Alastor looked down at the bunny in his arms and looked surprised, he had forgotten he was holding a person! He offered her to Angel, “Here, put her in her dressing room or somewhere else safe.”

“Oh yeah? You sure you don't wanna just have her sleep on your couch~? It's pretty comfy.” Angel smirked, trying to hide his jealousy through teasing. 

Alastor turned his back to Angel, and spoke firmly. “No. Only you may sleep in my office. I don't care what you do with her.” He stalked off to his office, and Angel had the realization Alastor was… pouting? He was still smiling of course, but… the way he spoke and acted was like a child throwing a tantrum.

“Wha- Al what the fuck?!” Angel almost went after him, till he looked down at Anna. Damn, she was easy to forget, no sense of presence whatsoever when she wasn't forced to be front and center.

 

Alastor sat at his desk, and looked at his shadow. It was pouting and poking at a lamp, tempted to shove it off the desk like a cat. “Oh stop it. You are not a child. He doesn't understand yet, so just relax.” He was arguing with himself essentially. His shadow was just an extension of his emotions, the parts he had difficulty controlling manifested in a semi-corporeal form he could mostly control…

Mostly…

“Just calm yourself mon ami, he will come to understand in time. He's been through too much to trust us right now, we must be patient.” 

Al hummed a little tune under his breath as he pulled a black and white polaroid picture out of his jacket, it was of Angel mid laugh at the hotel. “It's not that complicated, it's not that difficult to get my head around, I'll never meet another you…”

He tucked it away as he heard footsteps approach his door, his shadow disappearing.

 

The door opened and Angel stepped in, looking frustrated and flopped onto the couch with a pout. That almost made his ears twitch. His shadow swirled excitedly on the ground behind him, wanting to comfort Angel, but was held back by Alastor himself. No no… patience, you'll scare him if you come off too strong.

“Something the matter, Angel?” He asked casually. Angel looked frustrated as he stared at the ceiling for a few seconds before sighing, “Just some of the others making fun at my expense, the normal shit.” He turned to lay on his stomach and propped his head up on his upper arms, the lower ones folded beneath him. “By the way, you got some weird fetish for tiny girls? Or just rabbits and cats in particular?” 

The sound of a record scratch suddenly filled the room, and Alastor broke the pen he was holding.

 

“That… is the most disturbing question you've ever asked me. No, I don't have any kind of desire for women in that regard, no matter their size. She simply reminded me of Nifty. So I felt the overwhelming urge to act ‘motherly’ towards her. To treat her how my mother would have treated me. That is what happened, Angel. I implore you to never imply otherwise ever again. As for cats, I do have a fondness for felines, my mother had a habit of feeding the strays in our neighborhood where we lived.” 

Angel raised an eyebrow, “That's a lot of personal info you're sharing with me Smiles. That's not like ya, what'd I do to earn all the deep radio demon lore?”

“Hm, well since I own your soul, I know you won't tell anyone. And honestly, even if you did, who's going to believe you? The radio demon, a mama's boy? Hah! It's a laughable concept with the image I've built!” Angel sighed and dropped his head onto the armrest of the couch. “Plus, you've become a rather decent friend to me, Angel. I… feel I can trust you. More than I've trusted anyone in hell or earth.”

Angel's head shot back up at that, “Wait, what the shit'd you say?!”

“Ah, actually I have something for you. Here.” His shadow brought over a few papers, a huge grin on its face.

 

Angel hesitantly took the papers, curious what it could be…

[k-s-morgan]

How are you doing?

Hi! Thank you for worrying <3 I've been having migraines for the past week, but overall, I'm fine. I haven't been making my monthly posts lately, so I want to make one now. I hope you don't mind me using your ask for it.

October brought a lot of suffering for Ukraine - not that it stopped ever since Russia attacked us. On October 5, Ruzzians sent a missile into a cafe at Hroza village where people gathered for a memorial service. 59 civilians were killed, including women, a child, and the elderly. Here are some of them.

Later, on the night of October 18, Russian missile hit the apartment building in Zaporizhzhia. Five people died, including a married couple Daniil (23 years old) and Diana (20 years). They had three cats. Russians killed two of them; one cat survived.

This baby is going to live with the parents of Daniil who were hurt but who survived.

The pain is never-ending, there are countless examples of it, and unfortunately and unsurprisingly, people with the power to stop it aren't interested in doing it. To be honest, I lost hope. I don't think Ukraine can win this war. Neither can Russia, but considering that it's our people and animals dying, it's maddeningly unfair. Other countries help us, but even those of them that could give us enough weapons to really facilitate the victory aren't in a hurry to do it because for one reason or another, this state of never-ending war is beneficial to them. Nothing new, still devastating.

My plans haven't changed: if nothing improves in a year, I will do everything to relocate my family to another country. For now, I'm trying to learn how to live in a moment, to focus on today first and foremost. I'm watching a show called Black Sails and enjoying it so far. My Mom and I rescued a bunny a week ago, so now I have another source of joy in my home. If only he stopped peeing on my bed :D

Thank you all for still supporting me with your comments, messages, and interaction in general. Extra thanks to those who help me via Patreon. I finally decided to do something more in return, so I'll be posting my 43K-long original dark romance WIP there. I started writing it back in 2016, but I still love it and I hope to finish it. Here's some info about it.

It's naive to hope that one day, Russia will stop committing genocide and powerful countries will do something other than show weak disapproval, giving Ukraine some weapons with one hand and selling things for killing us to Russia with the other hand. But who knows. Maybe the world can still surprise us.

Either way, the support from regular people all over the world has been overwhelming and heartwarming, and I'll always be grateful for it. Thank you all.

[pinepickled]

Fandom Homework for @razielim

I decided to do this as a kind of WIP checklist for stuff that's in my docs but maybe won't be published soon. I'm not adhering to any strict time limit, but I'm definitely going to write. Under the read more:

Starting with the fact that I've now made a pact to finish writing long fics before i start to post them. Before when I was a younger and more inexperienced writer, I felt like I could handle writing week to week if I could get that sweet validation from readers. However, I also knew that my writing wasn't that good, and quickly life and insecurity got in the way. Now, I'm comfortably writing extremely lengthy fics and waiting to post them. some of those fics go as follows,

A Tiger and Bunny omegaverse fic. It's a total rewrite of the first season (with tentative plans for the second) that revolves around Tiger's life as the first Omegan Hero. The Barnaby in this fic is totally unhinged. Kotetsu has 3 baby daddies. It's the most emotional piece on feeling like your life is over and no one cares about you that I've ever written. It's taking a much darker tone than the show will, and also a much hornier one. I have a lot of hidden surprises for people, lore building up the wazoo (especially in regards to Tiger's past) and even religious/magical aspects once Lunatic gets introduced. It's definitely going to be a wild ride. I can't give an exact word count because these chapters got too long to keep on the same doc, but it's probably around 50k words now, and I'm not even halfway done. It's been in the works for, maybe, 2 years? 3?

A Jujutsu Kaisen fic. If I'm being quite honest, the manga going downhill so fast killed a lot of my inspiration to write for this series. However, there are still aspects I really like about both the series and definitely my fic. The fic has gotten to maybe 20k words? And it's ongoing. I got stuck on one seen between Gojo and Nanami last year and have been too busy to overcome it, but I desperately want to. I have such a story to tell with this fic. It's going to revolve mainly around Touji- I guess I should mention now that it's an Omegaverse fic- who gets mated to Gojou unwillingly before he dies the same way he did in the manga. Fast forward 10 or so years, he's back, and if he wants to survive, he's gotta stick around an uncontrollable, violent, god-complex Alpha who's got his pup in his clutches. That's a very dramatic way to say Touji will have to tolerate Gojou's kisses. It includes a lot of worldbuilding into the way powers work in JJK, as well as the presence of deities and Sukuna's past. It also includes an intricate weaving of omegaverse into the actual world of JJK, including all the changes I'll make. It's a polyamorous fic, everyone/everyone basically, so you bet Sukuna will be involved heavily in the romance aspect. And I made Yuji an Omega.

An rpf fic for a kpop group I wont name. It's a mafia omegaverse AU, where the MC will be an omega from the pampered rich neighborhood, who runs away from home to try and attain freedom. In this fic, Omegas are bought and sold like objects, and regulated and humiliated sexully very often. It's a mix of horny and actual legit analysis into what it means for your soul to be crushed over and over again, trying to reach for love from the people who own you. It got a lot darker than I intended lol, but as of right now it's short. It's gonna include a lot of triggering topics like rape, forced sterilization, gang violence, sexual slavery, forced prostitution, torture, and more. But I adore it. What's that one post? "The hands that cradled you were drenched in indescribable amounts of blood." "But they cradled me, yes?"

An extremely long planned out yet very little written omegaverse Supernatural fic, wherein Dean is an Omega who was pushed into the incestuous role of being a mother and wife after Mary died, and Michael just wants his pookie to be okay. But so does Sam. Shenanigans, not so much. I like to think of it as an exploration into the taboo being condoned by a holy being. About god being dead, too. About how fucked up it is that you're fucking an angel in the body of your dad in the 70s. It's almost a complete degradation of Dean's self esteem as a 'righteous man', with Michael, Lucifer, Sam, Castiel, and Ruby all telling him to abandon the upright view his father and the world at large expect of him, and to accept that he wants to be coddled, pampered, spoiled, and fucked. Men aren't fucked. But Dean will be.

A Miraculous Ladybug omegaverse fic (are you seeing the trend yet) where Luka gets a random miraculous (not part of the cat and ladybug's miraculous box) that allows him to transform into a hero called Beast of Omen, given power from the qwami 'Fenrir'. It's a darker, more I'd like to say realistic and fucked up interpretation about ML. For one, the main cast are all in high school, not middle school, close to their senior year. Luka is actually older than Juleka, as the cowards originally intended, and is in his college's second year. The majority of France are not shifters, meaning they can't smell or purr and they don't have claws. Luka, however, is a slightly apologetic Alpha. This is set in like season 3-4 kinda, when Luka and Marinette are hesitantly dating. The first chapter is set right after Marinette breaks up with him. Luka had withheld himself a lot, conscious that his more Alphan traits could scare her, but now she ran away from him anyway. Marinette is one such non-shifter. Adrian, however, is the most coddled and ignorant Omega on the planet, who has no idea how the Alphas around him- including his own father- look at him.

A Jason Todd fic where an adult, Alphan Damian asks Jason to come with him to Nanda Parbat after his grandfather sends out an uncharacteristic summon for him, his mother, and the ever elusive Nyssa al Ghul. Jason basically is forced to accept being pampered and looked after for a few weeks as Damian rebuilds his self esteem. There's also a bit of hate/love sex with Jason and bruce much later in the game, but god was it delicious. I love spoiled and pampered Jason getting waited on hand and foot by Alphas and having no idea what to do with all the attention

A descendant's fic (yes the disney movie) where Auradon prep is a college, Ben is 28, and the main cast are still the same age (if older by one or two years than canon). Ben is an Alpha (yes im doing this) who is really into being a daddy dom, and he's been searching for the perfect little to make into his puppet-queen for years. With his coronation just a few months away, a blessing is sent to him in the form of the Isle's children, who all happen to be adorable, young, impressionable Os in need of a strong and comforting hand to guide them. This fic actually features a very broad range of OCs from my end, and I have to say, I like where it's going so far. I also do my best to give it a more mature tone (naturally since the original was a movie made for children) while keeping the fun and bitchy elements. Also some mild magical world building.

Lastly, a very olllllllld Haikyuu fic, also Omegaverse, involving Omega Iwaizumi in a throuple with Alphas Oikawa and Ushijima, and also Omega Akaashi living with Alpha pack leader Bokuto

hehe, i had fun

[unhonestlymirror]

This is random, sudden, stupid, non-hetalia related question, but how do you feel about with the way communism gets treated/discused on the internet, especially by people who didn't live under communism regime?

I used to not think much about that Buggs Bunny communism meme

But now when I look back at it, a tiny part of me feels like these whole "OUR [object] memes take the easy way of talking about communism. (That's not to say making jokes is not allowed), but it kinda comes across and potraying communism in a good light - like it's better than capitalism, for example.

Everyone gets treated equally, right? It's not like people died. It's not like there was limited ammount of food for people that people would have to use whatever theh could find at home to eat. It's not like staning out was frowned upon because you were expected to be blend in with others. It's not like owning too much in ussrs eyes would get you be seen as a treat.

And I'm aware I'm not qualified to discuss this. I didn't live through those times and not very knowlegable outside what I recall. I don't want to say the wrong thing, but even so.

So how do you feel about this?

I think the biggest communism fans actually deserve to taste their beloved communism: just some random people coming in your house and stealing everything yours and make it "ours", a government which kills any manifestation of individuality, thousands of concentration camps of free labour. I think they deserve to experience that. For some reason, I don't see many English speaking communism fans wanting to be deported to Belarus or China or North Korea or russia, their beloved communist countries.(although they don't call themselves communist countries, they actually pretty much are).

Ngl, I used to find this meme a bit funny until I realised people are dead serious about it. This trend became popular because of Pewdiepie, the most "popular" and one of the most paid YT bloggers. I would not be surprised if his sponsors were russian or Chinese.

In general, I don't really care about communism fans because 99% of them are just stupid and uneducated, and I don't wanna waste my time on them.