#and now for character tags hoo boy

[wifiwuxians]

happy mid-autumn festival!!! i hope it's a day of good fortune and reunion for everyone! i yearn for the day in which i am able to eat a mooncake.

much to my chagrin this drawing appears very different on desktop and on mobile but oh well. i think i'll take a crack at writing an ID for this one, just because there are a few characters! including xunyang 83 everyone else is offscreen lol but they're there i promise

[ID: a scene depicting a moonlit picnic to mark the start of mid-autumn festival, featuring several characters from MDZS, as well as two of the artist's own characters from a fic titled Dawn Chorus. in the bottom left corner sit Wen Zhuliu, Wang Lingjiao, Mo Xuanyu and Wen Chao. they are conversing pleasantly. the bottom right corner hosts Jiang Yanli, Jiang Cheng, Jin Zixuan and Jin Ling, alongside a puppy version of Fairy. Jiang Yanli has brought her famous soup, as well as some spring rolls. Jin Ling is lying down and holding a lantern as his mother strokes his back. Jin Zixuan has a loving arm around his wife's torso. behind them, Jiang Cheng is attempting to wrangle Fairy and keep her from eating their food. above and to the left sit the Dawn Chorus characters Wen Xun and the fic-specific version of Xue Yang, who has his arm around him as he laughs. they've brought wine. in Xue Yang's lap sits an infant, Hexie, who is reaching out to a fruit gleefully offered to them by Standard Edition Xue Yang, who is sitting a bit ahead with A-Qing, Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan, who smile at the scene while drinking tea and eating. they've brought a platter of crab. to the right of them sit Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji, who are happily holding Lan Sizhui between them. their snack is watermelon. behind them, just arriving, are Mianmian, who is carrying her daughter in her arms, and her husband, who is carrying their lantern and food. behind them is Wen Qing, who is calling out to Wen Ning, who is rushing up to her with a smile and a box in his hands. the corner of a blanket in the top left and the top of someone's head in the bottom right suggest there are more people at the gathering. a few white flowers bloom on the grass everyone sits on, predominantly around Wen Xun. every picnic blanket has mooncakes, and most characters brought lanterns. many other lanterns are seen floating by and up into the sky, towards the full moon. the atmosphere is friendly and lighthearted. /end ID]

[breadedsinner]

“Why do people like Garrus more than Gale? ME doesn’t even give any characterization!”

While I don’t doubt Gale is a more fleshed out character, at least as of ME1, that’s not true. It’s just the alien characters had the additional burden of representing everyone in that group. Even Garrus, who is unable to maintain the usual turian sense of duty, shows what they are like by contrast. Tali especially suffers from this, in my opinion.

The humans, on the other hand, especially the Virmire Survivor, had quite a bit of characterization and you had a very clear idea of who they are. People just don’t see that because they’re enticed by the aliens and dismissed humans as boring :))))

[daughterofsarenrae]

fajsdlkfjslkfjsdlkfj my dad is upset with my bc he just discovered kill la kill and i told him i watched it in like high school and apparently i should've recommended it to him back then

[coquettepascal]

felicitas and her general

summary: general acacius has caught your attention after being the first mortal to worship you in decades. you only face one challenge: don't get too attached.

warnings: rated g, contains spoilers for gladiator ii, follows the timeline of the movie somewhat, reader is the goddess felicitas (who is the goddess of good luck,) this fic is basically just an add on to the movie.

tags: goddess!reader x general acacius, emotional infidelity, lots of roman mythology stuff, writer is basing all her knowledge out of what she remembers from PJO and HoO, worship, complicated feelings, marcus does not cheat on lucilla physically, yearning, pining, grieving, guilt, major character death(s), stalking (kind of), a lot of obsession/dedication, angst, hurt no comfort but also hurt with comfort.

a/n: i watched gladiator ii and then was too emotionally devastated to finish this fic the way i planned. i really hope you all like this!! also, this fic is also dedicated to my dear friend @pascalssbabyy because she is my biggest cheerleader and i love her <33

wc: 7.2k (not beta read)

It was he who woke you.

A quiet sacrifice in the evening that felt like the freshest breath of air you could have, more intense than what you could have atop any mountain, near any spring. The scent of burning meat and smokey vegetables grasped at your lungs, and you almost choked on it. How long had it been since someone had offered you something so kind? Real food, not just scraps of something they didn’t wish for. 

You’d never complain about how difficult it is to be a minor Goddess, you know that you could be a mortal, but most don’t think of how Gods can fade. It’s a physical process, one where you’d notice how your fingertips passed through things like chalices and bowls, how a spoon slid through your hand once. The clatter of gold on the table was embarrassing, even though you were alone. Nothing about being forgotten, or fading, physically hurt. It was only mentally taxing, knowing that you weren’t as important as you once were, that mortals found you insignificant.

Generals used to come and offer things frequently sometime ago, but you couldn’t even begin to understand how long ago that was. When you’re immortal, or supposed to be, mortal lives seem fleeting. You had taken them for granted, and regret it now, for all you have now are the empty clouds above your temple. 

The last offering you can gather was from a young boy, who wanted to win a board game against his sister the next day. He had given you half a bun with strips of meat. Sure, it was thoughtful, but this was something rich. 

You finish inhaling the offering, and then hear the offerer's voice. But it’s muffled, and you want to see who it is anyways, so you swipe through the clouds and create a window to see. Then you can hear him clearly.

Someone who is clearly a general kneels at your altar, which is chipped and dirty. The ashes of the food are in front of him, smoking still, and you can taste the wealth in his meal. It can’t distract you from him though, he is striking.

Broad shoulders support a heavy, curly, grey, head of hair, which is bowed in honor of you. His body is widely built, sturdy for battle, and his voice is just as powerful. You’re so focused on hearing his voice you only catch the tail end of his request.

“... Allow me to come home safely, if not for Rome, then for my wife.”

Your heart squeezes, and you swear you can feel the ichor gushing through your veins. Scarcely when a General came to give you an offering all those years ago would he mention a wife, only ever wishing for luck in the upcoming battle or war. But here, now, you’ve been given a respectful request and offering. It isn’t a thought in your mind to not favor him now, your eyes closing and your mouth murmuring a blessing to him. It feels intoxicating to use some of your power again, especially on someone who asked for it. It also feels intoxicating to watch this General leave.

He looks around before he goes, seeming to note how degraded your small temple has become. The statue of you that lies ahead of your altar is yellowing, and ironically, multiple fingers have broken off. The General seems displeased by this, sighing as he exits the temple.

His gait is heavy, sandaled steps weighted as he walks down them and into the torch-lit night. You find yourself looking for him even after he’s disappeared from your sight, the warmth of gratefulness hugging around you. Part of you knows better than to play around with the thought, but still you wish to know more about him.

—

It worsens when he comes back. A few times a week he returns, offering rich foods. It’s been a month now, and you are coming back to life.

Fading didn’t feel like anything, but coming back feels like so much more. The first few offerings had your body feeling alight again, like the ichor in you was flowing again, but within the last two weeks you’ve gotten your fingertips back. They were tingling for a day and then the next you were able to properly grasp things again, nothing was slipping through you.

In that time you had also learned his name. A guard had come looking for him one night, and stood behind him whilst he prayed. You had found yourself smiling when he didn’t interrupt himself, instead acting aggravated once he had finished. The guard had apologized for interrupting and let him know that “Your wife wishes to speak to you, General Acacius.”

Acacius. 

You still don’t know his first name, but it is enough. You can think of it when you feel lonely, when you are bored. Something to associate with the offerings, with the blessings. The fact he has been so consistent hints at a desperation, which would usually repel you from blessing him, but he is the only one who seems to recognize you. His efforts are not going to go unseen by you, not when you have so little to do.

You can feel yourself conceding to your need to know him more, but just as you begin to fight yourself again, he shows up.

Tonight he’s dressed a little nicer. Usually he arrives in a plain tunic but this one has golden trim on it, and his hair is a little more tousled. He stumbles into your altar holding something in a cloth, but he’s walking like he’s… drunk? 

Acacius meanders to your altar, grabbing a torch along the way, and then empties the contents of the cloth. It produces a small dessert bun, a Libum, or honey cheesecake, and your mouth waters. So much of the food that is given to you is savory meats, masculine foods that are heavy on the senses, but this is sweet and delicate. You can, of course, eat whatever you’d like. You’re a Goddess, and though you aren’t major, you are still very fortunate.

But this feels thoughtful.

The General drops to his knees after lighting the bun ablaze, swaying slightly, and now you know he must be drunk.

“Goddess Felicitas,” he begins as normal, “I am sorry I am later than usual. Though I don’t know if Goddesses sleep. I was… caught up in other affairs, but I made it in time.”

He is less eloquent than usual and seems particularly focused on how it is nearly past midnight.

“I brought you this though,” he gestures to the half burnt bun. “I wanted to bring you something different than meat and… things. I thought a dessert would be fitting for that task.”

Acacius pauses now. His thoughts are probably muddled from whatever he drank, and you find yourself smiling. Foolery has never been so endearing to you.

“You have been listening to me, I suppose. My requests for luck in battle have been answered, as well as my safety being ensured. Your blessings have brought my wife peace of mind, something I could not previously afford to her.”

He looks so small in your temple tonight. Normally he is not so vulnerable, but his shoulders sag as he mentions his wife. Some sort of shame runs over him at the idea that he could not ease his wife’s worries, but it makes you feel better that you could help. 

“Goddess Felicitas, I come here tonight bearing no requests, just gratitude. Your blessings have soothed wounds I could not see, and I feel like a young soldier again. You invigor me.” 

Then, he leaves. 

You watch helplessly as he stumbles back down the steps and away from your temple, and more than ever you wish to chase him. The love he has for his wife is clear, and you hold no jealousy of that, but you wish it were you. Something in you is deeply attached to this General now. He has awoken you so much more than rekindling your power as a goddess, more than releasing you from the grief that comes with fading. Yes, Acacius has made your heart beat again, your mind curious again, and you feel seen. Being worshipped is not the same as being loved, if that were true you’d have had many children by now, 

But after so long being forgotten, this feels like what you remember being loved as.

—

You try not to interact with the other Gods for the most part. They tend to meddle in things they don’t need to, and are sensitive. You are not exempt from this stereotype, but that’s only more reason for the distance. 

But today, you venture to meet another deity.

Morpheus is not hard to find. He is pretty stationery where he is, usually lounging on a rock or bench near his temple, or above it in the clouds. He is a bit…dramatic, from what you remember, but wise. 

Today he is stretched out on a cloud above his temple, eyes shut. His pale skin stretches taut on his bones as his lean frame breathes deeply. But, he is not asleep. 

“Morpheus,” you speak. 

His body rolls toward your direction, eyes still shut, but a small smile on his face.

“O young goddess Felicitas, what brings you to me?” He questions.

It’s hard not to feel embarrassed. You’ve spoken to Morpheus on very rare occasions, but he’s always been somewhat helpful, though nosy. Dreams tell a lot about people, and when he’s the one giving them to people, it’s hard to hide anything at all.

You don’t want him to know of your true affection for General Acacius, just that he is… worthy of a visit. 

And so you begin to describe it to Morpheus, your need to visit Acacius. He doesn’t open his eyes at all, but he raises his eyebrows a lot and seems bemused at your situation. You’re only halfway through your rambling before he raises a gangly limb and waves at your words.

“Felicitas, you think you are the only Goddess wishing to visit her admirer? You need no explanation,” he says jovially. 

Morpheus reaches into the air and pulls 6 black berries into existence, then drops them into your open palm.

“When you know he is asleep, bite down on one of these and think of him,” he describes to you.

The berries smell like nothing, but a powdery residue is left on your skin as you roll them in your palm. It doesn’t repel you at all.

Tonight, you will visit him and express the same gratitude he did to you. 

—

Marcus lays next to his wife, Lucilla, with her hand in his. She fell asleep sometime ago, leaving him to lie awake by himself.

He didn’t make it to her temple tonight and the guilt is festering in his body. Marcus knows that she is a Goddess, that he probably isn’t a thought in her mind. He knows that he is just another whiney mortal, giving her food that isn’t nearly as good as whatever Gods eat. His insignificance grows as he feeds into his guilt. 

Stress has permeated his life for much of it, from his time as a young soldier up until now, as a General. Battles, politics, and his family, have created a breeding ground for him to be wracked with anxieties, but he stays strong. Thanks to his time in Felicitas temple, it’s been better.

Which is why failing to make it to her temple tonight is making him feel so bad.

He grabs at the linen sheets of his bed, stressing and trying to reassure himself until he falls asleep finally.

—

Being in a dream is weird. It feels much the same as it does when you disguise yourself as a mortal, the out of body experience is semi-familiar, but it’s weird because someone else is there.

You’ve been watching the General enjoy the lake in front of him for a few minutes now. He hasn’t slipped into it, but just walks along the waterline. It seems like he is looking for something. Surely his dreams usually contain more action, or perhaps are memories, so you assume it may be strangely understimulating for him.

The appearance you’ve chosen is one of modesty, but elegance. A seafoam green peplos hangs off your frame delicately, with golden clasps at the wrists and waist. You did your hair so it would be tucked out of your face. There is no guarantee that Acacius will recognize you like this, but you look much like your statue that’s within your temple.

Swallowing your nerves, you shimmer yourself into visibility. The grassy field is odd beneath your feet, and you walk toward him with uncertainty in each step. You’ve never met with a mortal before, and you haven’t stepped on anything earthy in a long while. His broad stature only becomes more daunting as you get closer, especially since he seems so focused.

You will have to speak first. You’re much too quiet in this environment, and you must act fast lest he wake before you get his attention.

“General Acacius,” you speak firmly, though your hands shake. 

This is so unfamiliar to you. You’ve barely even seen his face, as he’s usually bowed at your altar. It is the first time you’ll see him at an equal level, the first time you’ll have brought yourself to him rather than him to you. 

He turns quickly, an instinctual aggressiveness toward the unknown. You stand about 10 feet from him, eyes widening.

Acacius is striking. His nose is what you focus on first, strong in shape and line, but behind it are his eyes which look to you with wide acknowledgement. His hair curls around his head in greying ringlets, like a permanent laurel crowning him. The wide expanse of his back was once impressive, but now you can see the solid wall which he becomes when facing you. Nothing could push him over it seems, a man built to stand.

Your heart squeezes the way it did the first time he gave you a request, a tender rush tingling your whole body. No words come out of either of your mouths, and the General drops to one knee instantly. 

He recognizes you.

“Goddess Felicitas,” he rushes out in a breath. His chest is heaving as he bows his head and no, no this isn’t how you want this.

Your feet are moving before you can focus on your anxiety, bringing you so close to him that you can kneel too. Maybe a goddess should not kneel before a mortal general, but you are just on your knees rather than putting yourself below him. Your peplos billows a little as air rushes through it when you hit the grass.

He is above you like this, and you tilt your head to see his face again. His strong brow is furrowed, eyes squeezed shut like he is afraid of you. 

“Acacius,” you say softly, “I am not here for… for ill reason. Please relax yourself.”

You lean back as he relaxes, head tipping upwards as he kneels in front of you as well. Now you can meet his eyes, see the crinkles that are beside them, and really take him in.

An energy of anxiety is shared wordlessly, with him stiff from the sight of a literal goddess, and you with the fear of… something. 

The identity of your anxieties isn’t something that you can figure out. Maybe it’s too much to see such a handsome mortal, or maybe it’s that you’re going to thank him for his offerings so personally. Maybe it’s humiliation from this act. What would other Gods think of this? Is it not degrading to become so attached to a mortal? Are you no better than Zeus or Hermes, the gods who interact too intimately with mortals? 

The sound of his labored breathing alerts you, calls your attention back to the present moment. 

“I wanted to thank you,” you admit meekly, “for your offerings. You have been very generous and… devoted.”

His eyes are shifty, and you can see the terror in him still. You don’t want him to fear you, but you can understand why. Visits from Gods or other deities can mean trouble, but you aren’t significant like that.

“General Acacius you are the first mortal who has acknowledged me in a long time,” you offer a vulnerability, perhaps trying to soothe him.

It feels so backwards for you to be kneeling in front of him, speaking. He has done so in front of your altar for many weeks now, but now the spots are switched, yet you are still in power. You avert your gaze as you speak up, wanting to request something of him.

“You’ve been so generous to me, General, I was hoping to know more about you.”

And now, rather than scared, he seems suspicious. 

“To know me?” He clarifies. 

You nod.

“I only know your last name. I think I could offer more luck and splendor if we were more… personal.” 

Gods that felt awful to say. You’re no better than the whorish brutes on their thrones, offering petty glories for intimacy. Everything feels flirtatious but that’s not what you’re looking for. Acacius has a wife he clearly loves, you would never want to interrupt that. 

He seems to hesitate, but he knows he cannot refuse you. So far your blessings have brought ease to his life, he wouldn’t want to lose that.

“Then… yes, I suppose I can offer myself if it would please you.” He responds stoically. 

And it does please you, to know his name. Marcus Acacius, the one who woke you, the one who has saved you from being a fragmented memory within the temples. 

Marcus Acacius, who you are too fond of.

—

You visit him 3 more times. In an attempt to space out the usage of the berries Morpheus gave you, you only visit him once a week. The bleak tasting berries are sour on your tongue, a rotten sour which lingers once you wake up, but it’s worth it.

The two of you have grown closer, with Marcus opening up more. He tells you about the stresses in his life, how much anxiety is buried in him. But, he’s confident for the sake of his wife. You’ve learned that her name is Lucilla, and much more about her. Marcus talks about her a lot, in passing or retelling something she told him. In the small amount of time you’ve gotten to know him, you’ve gotten to know her as well.

It burns you with a strange warmth, a desire and envy which makes your stomach growl. You are hungry for him to admire you in the same way, to speak of you, but doesn’t he already? Shame grips your throat when you think of it. You are a Goddess who he sacrifices to, who he wishes to have blessings from. What more do you need? A mortal couldn't offer you what another deity could. 

After the fourth meeting, you found yourself lonely. Lazing back in the clouds above your temple, you woke with a deep hunger. Marcus is beautiful, an admirable man, and he loves passionately. You are already being such a glutton for even speaking with him, meeting with him repeatedly, so why must you yearn for him too? 

Worship isn’t enough, you want what you will never let yourself to have.

Nothing hints that he might feel similarly. His starry gaze which lands on you is not due to your beauty, your personality, or anything more. You have blessed him, and that is why his eyes glitter. Goddess status has never made you feel so low and isolated. Still, you are happy to help him achieve what he wishes, even as it cripples your heart.

Tonight you plan on visiting him. That fourth visit was a week and a half ago, he may be wondering where you are. He still comes to your altar each night, but the prayers are less personal. Marcus saves his stories and ramblings for when the two of you are in the field, or near the lake, when the two of you are really alone.

—

You bite into the berry at around midnight. Its tangy yet death-tasting juice floods your mouth, clinging to the crevices between your teeth and staining your gums. Closing your eyes, you think of Marcus, and his curls, and his eyes, and his nose, and his strong hands.

And then you are there, and he is waiting. 

It seems like his subconsciousness has picked to be at the lake today, and he’s sat in the sand at the edge of the water. You walk over to him, but notice how… down he appears to be.

“She is not happy with me,” Marcus confesses before you even sit down.

You stand a few feet back from him, looking at how his curls fall around his bowed head.

“Lucilla?” You ask softly.

He nods.

A wicked feeling begins to steep in your heart. She is upset with him, he is in need of you for something more than a blessing. 

And so you listen. 

It’s one of the longer meetings the two of you have had. Marcus doesn’t cry, but he seems truly upset. He’s been called to go off somewhere far again, to fight and kill. Reassurances that you will protect him as best you can only soothe him so much. 

He doesn't care if he dies, he cares that his beloved is distraught over this. 

The more the two of you talk, the closer you get. There are marks on the sand from where you originally sat, but now you kneel in front of him, with creased brows and worried eyes. This isn’t something you can fix, you aren’t familiar with love and its intricacies. 

His knees were tucked closer to his chest before, but they’ve loosened now and his fists rest atop them, clenching. Frustration sits on his face like a mask, one you wish to take off him.

Touching is not… something either of you partake in. Sometimes your shoulders will brush when you sit together, but nothing more has ever been initiated. 

That is why it doesn’t surprise you when he flinches as your hand reaches out to rest on top of his right clenched fist. 

“Marcus,” you say softly, wanting to offer comfort, but he cuts you off.

“Don’t,” he replies swiftly.

At first it hurts, watching as he waves off your hand from his own, but then you look at his face rather than where your hands were joined. The frustrated look on his face is gone, replaced with something worse, something guilty. His eyes aren’t glittering at you like usual, nor are they hardened with anger.

They’re soft pools of conflict that mirror your own.

It doesn’t soothe your burn, satiate your envy. You can see in his eyes that maybe you aren’t alone in these feelings of admiration, of want, but maybe this is not what you want.

Maybe you want a different universe, one where he doesn’t have to be a mortal and you, a Goddess. So you wouldn’t have to worry about him dying, and have this friendship survive off death flavored berries. Maybe you want a universe where he isn’t married, where he could be yours and you wouldn’t feel like a spectator to his heart.

Maybe you want that, but you won’t get it.

Instead the flames of jealousy die in your chest and are replaced with tumors of guilt. Your whole body feels bloated, embarrassed, and ugly. 

The pair of you stare at each other, a stupid realization between the both of you as you realize that your secrets have been spilled, even though it’s the same one.

His eyes don’t move from yours, so you move from his.

The sandy edge of the lake does not look so bright now, even though there are no clouds in Marcus’s dream. 

“When do you leave?” You ask softly. 

You will not follow him into whatever battle he’ll win. Don’t embarrass yourself, Goddess.

He tells you two weeks. You say you’ll see him before then.

Then you wake on a cloud again, with a cavity of guilt in your chest.

—

Marcus wakes alone. 

Lucilla had not wanted to sleep with him that night, choosing to stay elsewhere. She didn’t tell him where, she left in a quiet flurry of tears and anguish.

It’s easier for him to feel guilt over his Goddess than it is to hurt his beloved, even if it is the same.

In a moment of frustration he grasps at the sheets, turning over and biting at his pillow. The bed is so cold, and the room smells like stale air even though the window is open, the night breezy. 

He knows she is beautiful because she is a Goddess. All Goddesses are beautiful, ethereal beings that mortals cannot even comprehend at times. Marcus knows he is lucky to even perceive her, for her to have chosen to visit him.

Yet through all her blessings, he feels cursed.

A plague of emotional infidelity is crawling through his body, sticking to his bones and making him stiff. Everything he does has felt flat for so long, from pretending he is grateful to the Emperors, to now pretending nothing is wrong in his marriage. He’s scared, and exhausted.

Marcus rubs a hand over his face after rolling over and sitting up in bed, groaning into his palm. 

At first he tried to blame her for it. What would a Goddess want from a successful General other than a demigod hero son? What could truly be so special about him? He assumed she was manipulating him, using some sort of power to morph his heart, but now he knows it is not true.

If she had wanted to, she would have had him by now, and he knows this. If she had wanted to, her hand would have stayed where it was tonight, and pushed him further. It isn’t unlike the Gods to force themselves on a mortal, but she didn’t.

Instead, his hand feels hot where hers rested, and his mind is spinning. 

Marcus doesn’t fall asleep again, afraid that he’ll see her. 

—

You wait for a full two weeks before you visit him again. He had been coming to your temple less, and you had assumed he was busy with preparations for the coming battle. 

The stubbornness you felt that night has not left you. At first you did not leave your temple in fear that you would grow attached, now you remain there because you have grown attached. 

“Enough is enough,” you had thought to yourself. 

But it is hard not to miss him, and his soothing prayers. The way his offerings tasted of smoke and sweet, and how he’d always burn such a large portion. Marcus never gave you scraps, he seemed to refuse to. 

However, you can only distance yourself so far. 

It is quiet when you approach him. He is sitting in the field this time, the lake a distant glitter in your eyes. He does not face you, but his head isn’t bowed like before.

“Marcus,” you greet, your voice muted.

He raises his head, turning over his shoulder and nodding, as if to direct you to come closer, and so you do.

Tonight’s visit isn’t vulnerable, or even pleasant. Marcus seems so distant as he dryly tells you about how he’s preparing, and his wishes to return safely. His eyes barely meet your own as he talks, and he continuously twists the ring on his finger.

It grows tiring, watching him ramble about politics you could care less about, listening to him say things that have nothing to do with him. He’s so far from the friend you thought you had made. When the air between you goes quiet, you don’t fill it for a while. You listen to the sound of the wind in the grass as his eyes still will not meet yours. It’s breaking you apart.

This is the last night you’re able to visit him, unless you visit Morpheus again. You will not waste it like this.

“What is ailing you, General?” You ask, deciding to prod more than you usually do.

To your surprise, he scoffs in light laughter.

“You,” he responds quietly.

His words don’t hurt, at least not yet. You have the option to walk away now, wake yourself and leave him with his final blessings, but of course you don’t.

“Me?” You ask, “what have I done?”

Marcus rolls his shoulders back, lifting his head to look into the everblue sky above the both of you.

“You have made my life difficult, Goddess.”

Difficult? You have made his life difficult?

You have half a mind to tear him to pieces, curse him with something awful like snakes for toes, or spoons for teeth. After all that you’ve done for him, all the safety you’ve provided, he is telling you that you make things difficult? How dare he? Be outraged, Goddess, for he disrespects the holy luck which you bestowed to him.

That’s what you should think, that’s how most of you should feel.

But instead you feel small, and hurt. Yes, he is disrespecting all that you’ve given, but also you feel like a failure. Your physical existence is because of him, because he did not let you fade. All you wanted to do was make his life easier, help him to have an eased mind and a safer life.

But instead, he’s telling you you’re difficult.

It feels like your body is shrinking in the white peplos you’ve worn, the sheer fabrics swallowing you. Shame is flooding in the form of tears behind your eyes, wetting your orbs with an unexpected outburst of emotion.

“I am sorry,” you manage weakly.

Marcus does not look at you while you cry, and you want to believe it is because he cares too much to watch, but you cannot verify that.

The wind picks up again, but it does nothing to hide the soft cries you can’t hold back. Once you were a fading Goddess, now you are just a failing one.

There is no luck involved with love.

Eventually he speaks again, with his head turned away from you.

“I am sorry too,” he says. There’s a finality in his tone that makes you ache.

So much is said in such little words. He is sorry to you, for you, and with you. A sorrow is shared between the two of you, knowing that your hearts ache for one another as they are worlds apart yet on earth together. 

This last berry was only supposed to mark the end of your visits, not the end of everything. It feels like this is all there is for the two of you, since it’s too complicated to continue on like this.

That’s why he doesn’t move away when you move closer and rest your head on his shoulder as tears leak down your cheeks, or at least that’s what you’ll believe. 

—

Time moves weirdly when you’re immortal, but it all happens so quickly.

Marcus stopped coming to offer things for you, and so you were blessing him less. Admittedly you had kept an eye on him, but not a keen one. It didn’t feel right, not when you and him weren’t… friends anymore.

But this feels too soon, too fast, too unfamiliar. Has your sadness caused you to be blind?

You watch as a man kneels in front of Marcus, panting and bloody with a sword beside him on the ground.

The only reason you are here was because you had felt the roar of a crowd all the way at your own temple, a wide distance away. It had drawn you in, and instead you had found this.

That roaring which you had heard crescendos to a new height around you as you shimmer into existence, cloaking yourself to the mortal eyes in the stands of the coliseum, but existing enough to touch him.

Arrows stick out of his front, more crushed beneath his back, as he is slumped on the white, gravel, ground. His hair is curled with tacky blood streaking through it, and he is so, so, still.

You drag your hand across his forehead, feeling the remaining heat, and in the echo of the crowd you begin to sob. 

Everything around you is moving, changing, fighting, and screaming, but you sit invisible in the center of the coliseum, running your hands over the now dead General Acacius. There is nothing you can do to bring him back, to ease Lucilla, to save him and apologize. He is dead beneath your fingers, with arrows lodged deep in his irreparable, mortal, flesh. 

You were supposed to keep him safe.

Hot tears run down your cheeks as you keep grasping at his armor, unable to move him or yourself. The last visit felt official, but this feels final. There is nothing more for you here, no friendship in a corpse.

Thoughts are running through your mind at the rate that your breath is puffing from your chest. The question of where he will end up in the afterlife is overwhelming you, and the chance for him to go to Elysium feels reasonable. It’s where he should be, where he deserves to go, especially after all he had done for Rome. You don’t even care why he’s here, or why he seems to have been brutally killed, but after the time you spent with him, Elysium seems right for him.

—

It’s where he should be. Elysium is where he should be.

And it’s where you find him.

His place there is somewhat similar to his and Lucilla’s home back in the mortal world, with lush greenery and airy drapes that flutter in various colours. It seems like he has left space for Lucilla here too, with space left in the chests for her things, and a permanently made half of the bed.

Elysium offers a true celebration of life for heroes, demigodly or not, and you’re sure Marcus has been enjoying that. Anything that he had been shackled to in his mortal life was gone now, and it seems that all he would have to miss is his wife. 

Most of your time is spent there, in his afterlife home. You peer from behind curtains when he comes back, hidden in drapes and keeping yourself small. 

He is already dead, but after the last time you abandoned him, you cannot bear to leave him alone again.

The vision of him, bloodied and murdered on the coliseum floor, flickers into your mind every time you see him lying in his bed. It’s an obsession to be near him, to be looking after him. Pluto might not even know you’re down here anymore, but what does it matter?

Marcus Acacius was the last living mortal to worship you. In the underworld, you are beginning to fade. Your fingers are slipping from you again, which is making it easier to lurk near him, but it is a painful process.

You want to speak to him. No longer do you yearn for his love, not after being in his home and seeing how dedicated his heart truly is to Lucilla, but you yearn to speak to him again. A panicked emotion runs through you at the thought of fading alone, of being entirely forgotten. 

It didn’t matter before he died, fading was just something bound to happen, but now it’s more. Is he forgetting you?

—

You’ve lost most of your arms by the time you work up the courage to speak up. Lucilla arrived sometime ago, joining Marcus in the afterlife. Watching them together brought some warmth to you, some kind of happiness that you couldn’t have for yourself, but seeing it for him was enough.

You sit on the terrace of their home, invisible to their eyes, and somewhat to your own. From the tips of your fingers to just below your elbows, you are a specter. Grey shadow fills where your limbs used to be, and they pass through all objects. You couldn’t tap his shoulder if you tried.

Oftentimes you sit, hidden, and ponder by yourself about more than Marcus. There were so many things you were adamant about when he was alive, and you regret it all now. Your determination to avoid your feelings, or at least not show them, and your need to not become attached… it bites at you now, a stinging, grieving, venom, that won’t leave. Your status as a Goddess blinded you to how tender that friendship could have been, and now you sit as a ghost spectator to his afterlife, obsessed with a mortal as a fading immortal. 

The tips of your fingers pass through the glass you try to grab as you think of this on the terrace. You’re glad that you’re such a minor deity, so at least you do not have to feel so humiliated about fading. A smile has just graced your face as you feel blessed for being so unimportant you can essentially stalk this mortal, when suddenly his voice cuts through the humid air of the space.

“Felicitas?” Marcus’ voice asks.

It’s so hesitant that you think you’re imagining it. You thought you had their home to yourself right now, thinking they had gone to do… whatever souls do in Elysium, but when you turn your face, he is there.

Marcus has not worn fancy clothing in a long while now, and right now is no different. He stands before you in a plain looking tunic, which just graces his knees. To see him at ease has been so nice, but he looks distressed at your sudden appearance.

You cannot find your voice as you awkwardly stand up, trying to think quickly. There is no good way to explain what you’re doing here, hidden away in him and his wife’s home. You could just vanish into thin air, but that feels wrong. He has seen you already, any attempts at pretending you aren’t here would be ridiculous.

His eyes scroll from your face down to your arms, and the smoking shadows that used to be there. Concern pinches onto his face with knitted brows and pressed together lips.

Something in you wants him to turn away, so you don’t have to think about why he is worried for you, even after all the trouble you caused, but he doesn’t.

His sandaled steps are heavy as he comes to you, reaching for your hands but finding the gesture fruitless as his own slip right through yours.

“Dulcissima,” he speaks weakly, shock woven in his words.

You had told him about fading a little while ago, when the two of you were in that field. Now it seems the severity of it has hit him.

What is hitting you is the name. Dulcissima, or sweetest. How long had it been since you had been referred to so fondly? All at once you are being remembered, recognized, and shown some affection. It feels like too much and tears are falling out of your control.

“I’m sorry,” you manage, “I was supposed to– to keep you safe.”

Marcus is shaking his head already, refusing your apology.

“No, no. You did keep me safe, you did. I pushed you away, I couldn’t control myself and I caused this,” he argues. 

It does not comfort you that you both blame yourselves. You wish to reach out to him and touch his face like you should have when he was warm and alive. You want to know if he is cold now, and it’s as if he hears you.

Marcus places a hand on your cheek, a softness in his eyes and hold that says that he missed you.

“I saw you,” he claims, “when I was on the ground. You were the last thing I saw.”

Somewhere between life and death for mortals, there are moments of godly clarity. Some see the light, others see their families and memories, but in that tiny glimpse of time, some see Gods. 

He was able to see you as you knelt over him, sobbing as you were cloaked to any mortal's naked eye.  You were the last thing he saw, and the last thing he truly regretted. 

All you can do is stiltedly nod at him, feeling like you were in trouble even though it seems he’s not upset.

For a moment, his eyes flick away, contemplative, but then he meets your gaze again.

“I told Lucilla of you, before I died. Not– not of my feelings which I struggled with, but that you were a close friend, a blessing in many ways.”

A blessing in many ways.

Another choked sob is wracked from your chest, your bottom lip curling out embarrassingly as your face contorts. He almost coos at you, the thumb on your cheek rubbing away your tears.

“Goddess, I have missed you,” he admits. 

Stupid nods are all you can offer, your voice imprisoned in your ever tightening throat which cries. When he was alive he was never this tender, too confused and insecure to ever touch you, but it seems he has been regretting things too.

“Felicitas,” he says quietly, “do you come here for ill reason?”

You shake your head this time, rather than nodding. You have no reason to be here, other than the fact that guilt has taken over your mind and heart since he died.

“Then relax, dulcissima. I have an offering for you.”

Marcus relaxes his stature, eyes still gazing over you. He looks at your fading palms and you watch him swallow nervously.

“I will worship you again, lending you offerings here, and all I ask in return is for our friendship again.”

It’s the opposite of how you met, almost completely, but it’s everything you need. You will not fade, he will not struggle in marriage, and you will have one another again. 

Again, you are nodding stupidly, but soon you’re embraced by him and nodding into his chest. His hands grasp at your back as he tells you how much he missed you in his final weeks, how he regrets losing you entirely, how he requires you as a friend. 

You are satiated in his arms as he comforts you, awakening you again there on the terrace. Unbeknownst to you, Marcus has let tears slip down too as he holds you close. 

“You will keep me safe here?” he asks jokingly.

It makes you smile, the idea of offering luck to a man who already died.

“Yes, General. I will keep you safe here, from all the horrifying glory and splendor,” you assure.

The two of you laugh, breaking the embrace but staying close. A passionate connection is still between the two of you, but in a different way now. Maybe when he was alive it was romantic because it is all you could think of, but through his death the two of you have come to understand it more. 

You require one another in a unique way, and leaning on one another does not have to be intimate the way he is with his wife. Marcus does need you, just as you need him, and now that you are both immortal in a way, you will never be separated again.

please leave a comment, like, reblog, askbox, or ANYTHING. i'd love to hear thoughts on this <33

tags (people who seemed excited for this) (sorry if these dont work)

@pascalssbabyy , @moonshapedflan , @gossipgirl-03 , @kyloispunk , @frannyzooey , @coocoolahh , @bug-boy32 , @honeymarvel , @magicalmorg , @1deakybass , @tuquoquebrute , @harryshousewhore , @teeagain, @chewie-bars , @vampyyweek , @queenslandlover-93 , @amijenn , @aquanatalie

[suncchaser]

I am so done with this situation and I feel like addressing it.

Jegulus shippers not only mistag posts, but have now started tagging their anti-Jily bullshit posts under the Jily tag and forcing the rest of us to read that shit and I am done with it.

How dare you go on the tag of a ship to rant about how they don't make sense to you when you have an entire account dedicated to a crackship with no canon basis between two characters who would never look twice at one another? "She hated him, she couldn't have changed her mind." Well, she did not and why she did was clearly explained in the books, so maybe read before you comment idiotic things. The breakdown of her friendship with Snape and James’ change of attitude and them becoming Head Boy and Head Girl together are the reason. Also, keep your fake love for Lily to yourselves because no one's buying it. You love Lily so much and yet, 90% of Lily-centred content is still coming from Jily shippers, you know, the people who you claim give her no personality outside of being James' wife and Harry's mother. While in Jegulus content, she's either treated as a surrogate or James' second choice or in a barely mentioned w/w with any random character you decide to pair her with. Also, if James is so horrible to the point you claim she deserves better than him how come you have entire accounts dedicated to him and a ship involving him? James is perfect for your darling boy Reggie but a terrible partner for Lily?

Also, I really do not give a single fuck if you don't want to ship Jily because boo hoo, Jily shippers are so mean to you. No one is ruining your online experience, no one is not allowing you to have fun. YOU ARE THE ONES DOING THAT TO EVERYONE ELSE. With constant mistagging to gain traction on your posts, literally invading every character/ship tags with your bullshit, constantly commenting under Jily content begging for Jegulus versions of it or inserting Jegulus/Regulus. There is a reason why most people who do not ship Jegulus do not like you. It's not jealousy or a big conspiracy. Most of you are just delusional and very fucking annoying.

[weeesi]

WEEESI READS

aka fic rec series where I scream "you need to read this!" into the void

Indefinite Lines by arwamachine

I know I'm late on this one and I can only apologise to myself for that really. Compelling casefic, cinematic writing, interesting narrative structure, the cutest Rosie incarnation this side of s4, and plenty - PLENTY - of angst and comfort. Incredible character voices, including one of the best Sherlocks I've ever read. Head the tags re: whump though, because hoo boy. @arwamachine is responsible for creating a term that I now think about once a day which I will refer to here as m*** s****** for fear of spoilers. Don't miss Bonus Lines, which is a collection of incredible deleted/bonus scenes that accompanies the fic.

2. Thankless (a 5 + 1) by Silvergirl

Do you love Lestrade? Do you love @totallysilvergirl? Lucky for you, I already knew your answer to both of those questions was OF COURSE YES, WHY DO YOU ASK. As it says on the tin, a 5 + 1 wherein we revisit key moments throughout the series where Lestrade helps Sherlock until, finally, it finally sinks in (hopefully before it's too late). Gorgeous, lush, emotionally resonant writing across the board. I adore Silver's Lestrade (and pretty much everything Silver writes, honestly, including the epic, fantastically written Drawn to Stars and the heartachy, beautifully written A Case of You) and I'm 100% positive you will too.

3. Inscrutable to the Last by DiscordantWords

I love a super unique fic idea and @discordantwords always seems to have an endless supply. How they do it, I would love to know. This fic. THIS FIC. I don't want to give any spoilers but the inherent premise is just sooooo clever. Precise and devastating writing, excellent plotting, with spot-on character details and dialogue (as usual). You should also read their heartbreaking (and heart-healing) s4 fix-it (Never) Turn Your Back to the Sea after you give this one a go!

If you're interested in more fic recs, let me know!

[tizeline]

I just finished binge reading everything under your separated AU tag and I have QUESTIONS!! (that mostly just stem from me being a mikey fan) Be prepared as I will ramble.

So. My #1 burning mikey question is as follows. Why does he decide to, you know, NOT eradicate all of humanity? Does he just do it because all of his family is? Ugh it’s hard to phrase this but I’m wondering if Draxum’s word means so much to him he changes his entire world view, since draxum was the person who made him believe humans are evil, if he changed his mind he must be right? If he is the very last one to change his worldview, how does he react to the person who essentially indoctrinated him into believing humans are evil just going back on his word? Would he just, idk, try to keep going by himself (proper villain arc style!) Or does he get his own little human/outside friend to convince him, like his two other brothers do? What would happen if instead of a human/outside friend to convince him humans are okay, he gets someone like say, leatherhead, who was experimented on by the earth protection force?(Since in 2012, he was experimented on by the Kraang, but I don’t see a way of that happening when they were locked away his entire life) Huzzah for conflict! or better yet, That same leatherhead convinces him humans are okay? Though that those seem out of character…. And of course maybe it would be mondo gecko, who he befriends and then finds out was human just a few months before and still views himself as such…. So many possibilities!!

speaking of other characters, do the Drax trio have any Yōkai friends? Like one Sunita, or maybe even one yoichi usagi, per chance? Though I’m pretty sure they’d be pro-human so… idk how that would work. The question still stands.

Also, seeing as you mentioned Raph starts to hang out with Leo,Donnie and April, how does mikey react to that? Would he feel abandoned or left out? (Who am I kidding of course he would but like. It does t hurt to ask!)

And seeing as he’s alone now and he’s not training all the time (I hope) this feels like a good Segway into asking: does he have as much of a love for art as in canon? What are his and Raphs interests (since we know Leo’s!)

thanks! I love ur work and ur art and ur Au and ur mother for creating you.

P.s. I had another question I wanted to ask but I can’t for the life of me remember what it was rn so you can expect more asks from me in the near future ;)

Hoo boy, long asks mean long answers, strap in folks!

So EXACTLY what causes Mikey to change his mind on everything is something I'm still working out the details of. Draxum definitely plays a part in it, considering how much faith Mikey has in his dad, Draxum of all people changing his mind would be one of the biggest reasons for Mikey to also second guess himself. It's not like he'd instantly change his entire worldview though, after Draxum gives up on the Evil Plan, Mikey, or rather Dr. Positive, tries to motivate him to come up with a new plan for a short while. He gives up after Draxum makes it clear that they're Done™ with that, and Mikey isn't very keen on trying to do the Evil Plan all on his own considering HIS ENTIRE FAMILY decided to just give up on it. That doesn't mean he'll suddenly start liking humans, he still thinks they suck ass, he just isn't actively trying to cause their downfall anymore.

For both Leo and Raph, a big reason why they changed their minds on humanity was because they interacted with humanity and learned how wrong many of their previously held assumptions about them were. It makes sense that that's the catalyst for both of their redemption-arcs, and in that sense it also makes sense for Mikey to unlearn his prejudices against humans by interacting with them. HOWEVER! You bring up an interesting point, for Mikey specifically it would probably be more effective for another yōkai/mutant to give him a new perspective considering he'd be a lot more willing to listen to them rather than a human. I haven't been planning on including Leatherhead or Mondo, but it would be fun idea so I might do so.?That being said, getting to actually know a human later on would still be a good learning-experience for Mikey, I'm kinda tempted to bring in Woody from the IDW comics into the story too, for example.

So then we get to the topic of friends! Despite The Drax Bros growing up in yōkai society, they're still a bit isolated. They can go and hang out in The Hidden City basically whenever they want (as soon as they're old enough to do so), but when it comes to actually getting close to other yōkai and forming proper friendships...? So first of all, Draxum has a Reputation™ amongst yōkai, he's a well known figure and a lot of people are honestly a bit intimidated by him. Most yōkai thinks it's best to just stay out of his way, which includes staying out of the way of his weird kids. Basically, the bros' association with Draxum has a tendency to get in the way of them actually befriending anyone :/ Not just that, but while there are certainly yōkai who don't have the most positive feelings about humans, the Draxum family's stance on humanity is very extreme, which even most "human-critical" yōkai will find off-putting.

All of this is to say that no, they don't have a lot of friends haha. Leo hangs out at Run Of The Mill all the time, and Hueso definitely has a soft spot for him, but at most he's only acquainted with the other employees and regulars there. I'd imagine that includes Sunita, considering her dad works there and as such they've interacted on occasion. But again, Leo's extreme view on humanity makes most people uncomfortable and as such they'll mostly indulge him in civil small-talk to avoid getting on Draxum's bad side. Raph and Mikey...? They might have some casual friendly connections with some yōkai in The Hidden City, especially Mikey can be quite sociable if he can keep himself from ranting about humans for two seconds lmao. But for the most part, honestly, I think The Drax Bros are content staying a bit closed off from others outside their family. The three of them are very close and they know they can trust each other, that last part's important considering their Big Plans aren't exactly.... legal.... and as such they need to remain secretive about everything to others. I feel like they'd mostly start bothering finding new friends after they decide to abandon their Destroy All Humans Plan.

(Sidenote, I really like when Usagi shows up in TMNT stories, but I've never consumed any Usagi media myself. Almost all I know about both Miyamoto and Yuichi I know through TMNT and as such I don't feel confident enough in my knowledge about the Usagis to include either of them in the story. I HAVE been planning on reading the comics, so maybe I'll include him at a later date??)

But OH BOY Mikey's reaction to Leo and Raph starting to hang out with Donnie and April?? :D Both of Mikey's older brothers ditching him to hang out with their new little brother and his annoying human friend??? :D OH BOY YOU HAVE NO IDEA! :D

Listen, look at this from Mikey's perspective: You finally find your Long Lost Brother™ after thirteen years of him being presumed dead, great! Small problem, he's been brainwashed by the evil humans who kidnapped him and now thinks YOU'RE evil for some reason? No matter! He just needs some time to adjust! So you're patient with him, you show him kindness and understanding while gently trying to guide him back to the good side, to his REAL family. You do EVERYTHING right, and how does that bastard repay you?? HE instead turn your brothers against YOU! He ruins your plans of saving the world! Everything was PERFECT before HE showed up and started complicating things, and now your family is BROKEN and everything sucks! And it can all be blamed on Donnie.

...Hate is a very strong feeling, I don't feel like Mikey is really capable of feeling something like that, at the very least not against someone he does still technically considers family. Rather, I think the best way to describe the feeling Mikey is about to start feeling about Donnie would be bitterness. Mikey takes all the negative feelings, all the hurt and confusion about the situation he's ended up in and directs it all at Donnie. Because it all comes back to him, doesn't it? It was only after Donnie got reunited with them that things started going wrong. And from Mikey's point of view, Donnie has basically stolen Mikey's brothers from him. Needless to say, Mikey is dealing with a lot of negative emotions that he doesn't really know how to cope with them aside from taking it out on Donnie.

Donnie, who is so used to being love-bombed by Mikey is VERY flabbergasted over him basically just completely flipping a switch overnight. Mikey will just be glaring at Donnie like he's trying to explode him with his mind and Donnie's just "???who are you and what have you done with Mikey???". He starts acting really hostile towards Leo and Raph as well, it's all very weird!

Back to me not having figured out the details of the entirety of Mikey's character arc, one thing I'm contemplating is how long I wanna drag it out for. For example, I know I want to change up the events of the movie at least a bit in the AU for the sake of novelty. One way of doing that could potentially be for it to focus not on Leo's and Raph's ever growing tension in their relationship, but rather focus on Donnie's and Mikey's relationship? It'd be extra interesting if Mikey hadn't at least completely gotten over his hang-ups about humans when we bring Casey Jr into the situation. CJ looks at Mikey and sees a younger version of the man that was basically an uncle to him, like family, and Mikey looks at CJ and is just like "ew. human." and that'd be a whole dilemma to deal with. But as interesting as that could be, I'm scared that it'd just get tedious if Mikey is stuck in angst-mode for too long. We still have the entirety of season two to get through before we get to the movie, it's gonna be a while is what I'm saying. Then again, character growth takes time, maybe Mikey reconciles with his own family and starts the path to befriending Donnie by the end of season two, but they run into some roadblocks along the way. They ARE very different people, even in canon, I'd imagine it might take some time for them to properly befriend each other.

But next question - Mikey and Raph's interests! Mikey already likes to draw, but he'd definitely start doing it way more after the season 1 finale (oh wow, a healthy coping mechanism, imagine that!) Raph... Raph likes training. Even after it becomes clear that they're not doing their Big World Domination Plan anymore and as such don't really need to train as much, he still does it just because he genuinely enjoys it. He becomes proper friends with Casey the season one finale and she also really likes training, so it becomes a bonding experience for them. Leo and Donnie later on also introduces him to human media like Jupiter Jim and the Lou Jitsu movies and he gets really into it too XD Nerds!!

... Oh man, I think that's everything! Anyway, thank you, I'm glad you're enjoying the AU so much :D

[o-kye]

User: kye Status: fangirling over my characters on repeat Message: hello kids. i love random ass asks and dms, if i dont answer i am mentally ill. my tags im putting here. i appreciate tone tags a lot! gendered terms are cool with me (except man/woman, unless used in a common phrase like "freed man"). cool with terms of endearment - i tend to use them alot. dont do chain asks really, i like tag games but may not do them just cuz but i love being tagged. if you dont read the rest of this bye NERDS

Entering database . . .

May be: Virus . . . Depersonalization_Derealization.exe [error; this field was left blank] Text_Faces.pdf :/ and :l faces are illegal on my blog sorry, my ex pavloved me and they make me get panicky The_Kids.pdf yeah. yeah i write. i love my kids. if you wanna read my queer ass scifi just ask me, its a google doc but ill add you if were moots !! see more about my children here Available Files . . . Bears_in_Trees.mp3 they fix me. that is all. also how to build an ocean. that is all. i am insane. Car_Seat_Headrest.mp3 so me rn. its not okay Cavetown.mp3 yeah pretty much Dungeons_and_Dragons.exe i made dnd club at my school and im very proud of it. also TRYING to run curse of strahd right now so yeah Ghosts.mp4 sasappis my beloved. he could do things to me Good_Omens.mp4 i want someone to kiss me like crowley kissed aziraphale. okay thanks bye Grishaverse.pdf my current obsession. soc my beloeved. i love wylan and nikolai and i want to be kaz for some strange reason. also milo is my favorite ever Hazbin_Hotel.mp4 radioapple is my favorite. also vox. hes so pathetic. thats all. Marauders.pdf i havent even read any fanfiction just yeah. i mostly stick to jegulus and wolfstar but also any ships within them ill entertain i just dont really know the other characters Naethan_Apollo.mp3 hes so pretty. and so baller. NOAHFINNCE.mp3 hes like my alex fierro moodboard fr Osemanverse.pdf not sure why this wasnt on here before but yeah osemanverse. lister and aled and georgia and pip and charlie and Yeah Our_Flag_Means_Death.mp4 stede. jim. frenchie. oluwande. blackbeard. buttons. im not through s2 yet so no spoilers ive miraculously managed to avoid any Rainbow_Kitten_Surprise.mp3 yes. yes. matchbox. and also. yes. Riordanverse.pdf i love leo and nico and percy more than is healthy. i die for pjo and hoo and magnus chase, working on toa. also. cabin 7 Scott_Pilgrim.mp4 only watched spto but were getting there. anyway boys making out amirite Stardew_Valley.exe shane. and sam. yeah. als abigail and a little sebastian and some harvey and dubbfvlibf [End of introduction. Please proceed.]

[asmolbirb]

Birb liveblogs the final Temeraire trilogy: League of Dragons

Overseas travel edition! I devoured this book on a 15hr flight without the ability to update my reactions live, so here they are all in one go, with much less screaming in the tags

So obvs I’m devastated that Tharkay is gone again but it’s tickling me pink that Laurence is like “oh we’re cuddling on dragonback? It’s Tharkay or bust for me uwu”. And it’s undeniably hysterical that in the middle of The Most Important War Effort So Far, Novik is taking extra time to discuss dragonback cuddle logistics. Truly zero notes

Naomi Novik stop killing off everyone Laurence cares about challenge ToT ToT ToT

Laurence screaming and thrashing while Hammond and Temeraire play dress up with him might be the funniest running gag in the entire series

I LIED the funniest running gag in the series is every single description of Temeraire “heroically” expressing 1 singular generosity

The Miss Merkelyte romcom C plot is absolutely sending me. What the fuck is happening lmao

CALL THARKAY A FUCKIN WHACKAMOLE THE WAY HE’S ALWAYS POPPING UP OUT OF RANDOM-ASS HOLES IN EVERY WRETCHED SWATH OF BACKCOUNTRY ON THE PLANET

“I’m soooo over my act of treason it doesn’t bother me at all” <- words dreamed up by the utterly deranged (someone who is not over his act of treason even a little bit)

Awwww baby’s first PTSD…….. :(

This will not surprise anyone but I’m immediately obsessed with Ning. Big fan of a character whose primary narrative purpose is to tell everyone they’re being big old idiots

Hoo boy the way Laurence handles his authority, particularly when reprimanding rude subordinates, sets off my competency kink like no one’s business. And he’s built like a linebacker on top of that?? *fans self* I’m so so glad we get to see him be a proper captain again, it’s a lovely bit of closure to finish out the series

“My dear, that is the Temeraire, herself” PARDON ME I MUST SQUEAL, I’m so unbelievably soft for this owo

Laughing my ass off at Laurence turning his raggedy band of ferals into a bunch of crypto bros

Man remember in the first few books when the divine wind was this mighty and rare thing? And now it seems Temeraire is loosing the thing twice a chapter. I love *clenches fist* a tangible depiction of growth over the length of a narrative

Crying screaming gnashing my teeth over Tharkay showing up out of nowhere at the end of everything and saying “hey. Do u wanna retire with me while ur dragon menaces the government? Do u wanna do that maybe forever? Haha jk……. unless…..?” They’re both so silly and speaking in so much euphemism. It’s gonna take them 10 years to even kiss each other. I’m coming apart at the seams about it

[mysticstarlightduck]

Character Aesthetic Deep Dive Tag!

Let's go with Saoirse Richards from Scrapyard Boys for this one!!!

Rules: Make a moodboard with your character's aesthetic, a playlist that fits their vibe, "badly summarize them" (like, talk about their personality, but funnily), etc. It absolutely does not need to be super detailed!!!!!

✦ Character Aesthetic: Saoirse Richards, WIP -Scrapyard Boys

♡ Moodboard ♡

♡ Playlist ♡

Are You Satisfied? - Marina & The Diamonds

Was I meant to feel happy That my life was just about to change? One life pretending to be The cat who got the cream Oh, everybody said, "Marina is a dreamer" People like to tell you What you're gonna be is not my problem if you don't see what I see And I do not give a damn if you don't believe My problem is my problem that I never am happy It's my problem, it's my problem on how fast I will succeed Are you satisfied with an average life? Do I need to lie to make my way in life? High achiever, don't you see? Baby, nothing comes for free They say I'm a control freak Driven by a greed to succeed Nobody can stop me

Things We Lost In The Fire - Bastille

Things we lost to the flames Things we'll never see again All that we've amassed Sits before us, shattered into ash These are the things, the things we lost The things we lost in the fire, fire, fire These are the things, the things we lost The things we lost in the fire, fire, fire We sat and made a list Of all the things that we have Down the backs of table tops Ticket stubs and your diaries, I read them all one day When loneliness came and you were away Oh they told me nothing new But I love to read the words you used These are the things, the things we lost The things we lost in the fire, fire, fire

O.D.D - Hey Violet

I should never listen to another voice But my own Now I've grown up, now I know That when I'm tryna be myself it isn't so simple Anymore Some days I wake up I just wanna hide under the covers 'Cause no matter what I do I'll never be like all the others I'm a little O.D.D Most people really don't get me I'm the girl in the back of the class Blank stare, don't care, don't ask I'm a little O.D.D I see the way they look at me I can hear it when they talk that trash Saying "Any minute she gon' crack"

Mind Games - Sickick

Once I'm in there ain't no letting go, letting go Watch me turn your mind into my home Now that I'm in there's no letting go And your emptiness begins Once I grip onto your mind and soul And your brightness starts to dim Sin after sin you won't feel no more You've lost your trust again I know you wish you could let me know That you're praying for an end

Welcome to Wonderland - Anson Seabra

Welcome to Wonderland, where should we go There's a tea party along down the road Make an appearance and maybe they'll sing us a song Dancing through a dream underneath the stars Laughing 'til the morning comes Everyone that leaves has a heavy heart Oh, Wonderland I love Nothing around here is quite as it seems Not sure if anything's real or a dream And the only thing sure from the start Is the song that's inside of your heart Don't let it leave If this was a dream, then at least I've got Memories for when morning comes Now that I must leave with a heavy heart Oh, Wonderland I love

Boo Hoo - Neoni, ft. RIELL

When you start a fire and hide the matches Been down that rabbit hole Swore I would never go Back to bad habit's, I'm through Around and around we go sick of the vertigo Abracadabra, screw you White lies, red eyes, I've had enough Fake nice surprise, I've had enough White lies, red eyes, I've had enough Fake nice surprise Boo hoo, you don't like me, well That's good for you Boo hoo, say you're over it, well That makes two Throw your pity pity pity party Bring your friends, but you got nobody You, you don't like me, I don't like you Boo hoo

Numb Little Bug - Em Behold

And the world it feels too big Like a floating ball that's bound to break Snap my psyche like a twig And I just wanna see if you feel the same as me Do you ever get a little bit tired of life Like you're not really happy but you don't wanna die Like you're hanging by a thread but you gotta survive 'Cause you gotta survive Like your body's in the room but you're not really there Like you have empathy inside but you don't really care Like you're fresh outta love but it's been in the air Am I past repair A little bit tired of tryin' to care when I don't A little bit tired of quick repairs to cope A little bit tired of sinkin' There's water in my boat I'm barely breathin' Tryna stay afloat So I got these quick repairs to cope Guess I'm just broken and broke

♡ Badly Summarized OC ♡

A brilliant young telepath/telekinetic superhero fueled by coffee, candies and spite, as well as a truckload of pizza.

Puts her intellect to good use by creating the most unhinged plans and somehow making them work! Is the Gremlin Mom Friend.

Is terrified of fire because her father's business partner burned down his lab with him inside. Now doesn't know how to feel about the fact that one of her best friends controls flames.

She's probably a bit more childish and naive than the rest of the team but is sharp-witted and funny all the same. Also! Out of the starting members of the Gang, Saoirse is the only one who was born in serious wealth, though she lost it all.

If someone fused a black cat and an orange cat into one and turned them into a human being, that would be Saoirse.

Can speak a lot of languages but most of the cast doesn't know until she randomly starts spouting fluent words in foreign languages in a situation where that's required. (Cue the classic: "We didn't know you spoke [language X]!" followed by "... But you never asked?")

Gives suspiciously good relationship advice but has never dated before.

Loves a grunge style and absolutely revels in a goblin-core aesthetic, plus adores watching the chaos unfold from behind the scenes.

Has a deeper voice than one would expect, which often also sounds coarse when she's bored or focused.

Sleeps like a rock and could potentially sleep through the end of the world. Counts scientific facts instead of sheep when she can't fall asleep.

Can crawl and climb basically anywhere. This has nothing to do with her powers - she's just uncannily agile and stealthy, to the point she jumpscares her friends often lol.

Source for pictures: Pinterest

Source for music/songs: Spotify

Tagging (gently): @sleepy-night-child, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @smol-feralgremlin, @oh-no-another-idea, @littleladymab,

@winterandwords, @eccaiia, @sarahlizziewrites, @illarian-rambling

@agirlandherquill, @anoelleart, @ray-writes-n-shit

@the-golden-comet, @writernopal, @anyablackwood, @unstablewifiaccess, @forthesanityofstorytellers

@i-can-even-burn-salad, @cakeinthevoid

@lassiesandiego, @thepeculiarbird, @clairelsonao3, @memento-morri-writes, @starlit-hopes-and-dreams

@differentnighttale

@wyked-ao3 and OPEN TAG

Taglist for Scrapyard Boys below the cut 🧪

Scrapyard Boys Taglist (-/+): @ray-writes-n-shit, @sarandipitywrites, @lassiesandiego, @smol-feralgremlin, @kaylinalexanderbooks,

@diabolical-blue @oh-no-another-idea

@cakeinthevoid, @clairelsonao3,

@thepeculiarbird

@the-golden-comet, @urnumber1star, @ominous-feychild, @anyablackwood, @amaiguri, @lyutenw @finickyfelix

@thecomfywriter, @the-letterbox-archives, @differentnighttale @wyked-ao3

Let me know if you'd like to be added!

[rotting-moon-writes]

~Character Voice Tag~

Thank you to @the-golden-comet for tagging me!

My line: "Uh... should you be telling me this?"

Your line: "Well, that's just not right."

Henry: "Hoo boy, that's uh- um, that's something alright, but I don't know that you should be saying it."

Storm: "...Y'know, it's a stupid man who lays his cards out in the first hand."

Lucy: "Oh Sugar, I think you might be a little too deep in your cups, maybe we keep those as inside thoughts, hm?"

Thomas: "Shh, enough of that, now."

Iris: *Snort* "Idiot. Got a death wish?"

Rose: "Well! Isn't that... interesting! No no, there's no need to say anything else, I am quite at my limit of new information for the evening."

Tagging @lychhiker-writes @saturnine-saturneight @wintherlywords @madi-konrad @thecoolerlucky @ceph-the-ghost-writer @theliteraryarchitect

[umbracirrus]

WIP Wednesday! 💛

And hoo boy, it is a long one. I'm talking over 3,100 words here. Making a new character in Skyrim has somewhat broken me out of the writers block I've been stuck with for the past few weeks. I'll get back to writing stuff for Elyse eventually, but for now, Thorne is in the spotlight! Plus, I'm having Elyse and Thorne co-exist because I can as Thorne isn't Dragonborn. Will need to take some liberties with the Thieves Guild backstory for Thorne though as a result as Elyse has done some stuff related to Honningbrew Meadery...

I'm relatively happy with it as it currently stands, though whether I make any further edits such as try to add a bit more padding around the dialogue or editing out my million and one mentions of people inhaling/exhaling or post it on AO3 any time soon I'm not so certain about. Thorne needs a hug. And honestly, at the end of this, Brynjolf needs one too.

Tagged by @hircines-hunter and @thequeenofthewinter! Not tagging anyone today but feel free to say that I tagged if you wish 💛

There is implied sexual content near to the end, it's essentially a fade to black situation, so please bear that in mind. I've marked as mature just in case, but it's only implied and nothing actually happens in text.

----------

"Boss. Talk to me – what's the matter? You've got an awfully long face." Thorne's brow scrunched up as she watched Delvin slip onto the seat opposite her in the Ragged Flagon. "Is it Maven? Is she breathing down your neck about something again?" She watched as Delvin leaned closer, attempting to read her expression. "Guild finances in trouble?" A quiet groan escaped her, before her eyes darted to the side at the first sign of movement. That action on its own made Delvin begin to chuckle. "Ah… Brynjolf. Trouble in paradise, hm?"

Thorne's eyes widened at that remark, before she scowled once more and silently stood up. "It's none of your business what the matter is, Delvin."

"You know, if Bryn ain't treating you right… Vex and I could always have a word with him, tell him to-"

"It is nothing to do with Brynjolf!" Her hands slammed down onto the table. It was very much an open secret that she and Brynjolf were together, but that wasn't the problem. It wasn't the problem in the slightest. If anything, Brynjolf was the only reason as to why she remained in Riften, remained the guildmaster of the Thieves Guild following the demise of Mercer Frey many months ago. But how could she tell the guild any of that? That she just… didn't want to be there? "I just… I just need some space to think. Clearly, the Ragged Flagon is not the place for it."

As she began to walk out of the Flagon, everyone's attention now clearly on her, Delvin attempted to follow. "H-Hey! Boss, you don't have to-"

She didn't look back when she heard Brynjolf's voice quietly addressing Delvin, though she did have to blink away the tears in the corner of her eyes as the door to the Flagon slammed shut behind her as she made her way into the Ratways. She hated that she felt this way. She couldn't live like this forever, wallowing in despair, wanting something better for herself… Even if her talents perfectly gave themselves to the line of work of a thief. It was why Brynjolf had took notice of her in the crowds of Riften that day, in spite of her having not long staggered into the city after being attacked and left for dead on the road after all.

Riften was eerily quiet as she stepped out from the Ratways, the smell of fish and salt hanging heavy in the air as the planks of the walkway beneath her creaked with every step. Rain, misty and light yet cold enough to chill her to the bone, fell to the ground around her. The clouds above the city were a dull grey for as far as the eye could see, and honestly… it felt very fitting for the melancholy she was feeling.

Her pace was slow as she made her way up to the upper levels of the city, before reaching the Bee and Barb, with her lethargic attempt at opening the door almost failing to catch Keerava by surprise if not for the sound of her reaching a table and scraping a seat across the floor in order to sit on it. She wasn't paying too much attention as Talen-Jei then tried asking if she wanted her usual drink, though she did give her thanks when a bottle of Black-Briar Mead was placed in front of her, both verbally and through coin.

For a while, she simply sat there, holding onto her drink whilst taking the occasional sip and holding her head in her other hand. It was so much quieter there than in the Ragged Flagon, it gave her a chance to get lost in her thoughts without much distraction. On the other hand, perhaps being left to her thoughts was not the best of situations for her to be in given how negative her mindset had been as of late.

At some point, the doors to the inn opened once more, somebody new coming in – no doubt a regular. She didn't care to look at who it was. Nor did she really care that, of anywhere, they chose to approach her table and put their own drink down on it.

"Lass… You okay? You left the Flagon quite suddenly." Thorne's head shot up at the sound of Brynjolf's voice, before taking a deep breath and nodding, not really paying much attention to the question which she had been asked. He frowned, then slipped into the seat beside hers and reached out for the hand which wasn't firmly wrapped around the bottle of mead. "Talk to me. Something is the matter, and I'm worried about you. I can tell these things, remember? It's all about-"

"Sizing up your mark…" She let out a quiet laugh. "I remember you saying that when we first met." After a moment, she brought her drink up to her lips, before sighing. "What made you decide to join me?"

Brynjolf raised an eyebrow at her question. "I think it's quite obvious, Thorne." Her pulse quickened at his use of her name rather than 'lass' – it was very rare that he would use it, but when he did… She knew that he was being serious. "You're not happy. You've got these little furrows in your brow that never used to be there, dark circles under your eyes, and it's not often you smile anymore." His hand gently squeezed hers. "As I said, I'm worried about you."

Hesitation made her body freeze after she opened her mouth just slightly, though tears were once more pricking at the corners of her eyes as she felt him looking at her. She was like an open book to him, she always had been, but hearing what he had to say… hearing that last sentence… she felt as though time was running out on keeping her innermost thoughts concealed. But she didn't want to hurt anyone-

"… You're not happy in the guild, are you?"

Her mouth fell dry. "N-No, it's not that-"

"Thorne…" His tone insinuated that he knew that she was lying.

"At times, the guild is like the family I never had," she whispered, her voice breaking as she spoke. "Not to mention that I love you, but-"

A warm hand came to rest on her cheek, and she felt Brynjolf's thumb wipe away the tears which were slipping down her face. "Don't force it… Take your time, lass."

"But I'm… I don't know if this life is for me, Brynjolf. Being… Being guildmaster, all the cloak and dagger, being under the constant scrutiny of the law and just hoping that I'm not recognised as a thief by any guard we haven't been able to get into our pockets-" She inhaled sharply. "Two years, Brynjolf… I've been here for two years, and I… still feel like I don't fit in. Except for when I'm with you." Carefully, his chair shuffled closer to hers and slowly her head fell into his shoulders as she stifled her tears. "I'm just… I'm not happy. I thought if I gave it time, then I would feel better but…"

"I understand. You don't need to say anything more."

Remaining leaned against him, she brought her drink to her lips once more and downed as much as she could without choking. One of his arms wrapped around her, and they fell into a comfortable silence.

When he finished his own drink was when the silence was broken, and it was with a question she wasn't quite expecting. "Lass… Do you want to take a step back from the guild? "

She stared at him in a dumbfounded silence for a moment, her back straightening out as she sat up and processed the question. "What…?" She then bit at her bottom lip. "I don't want to inconvenience-"

"Don't think about what is best for the guild, lass. This is about what you want."

But… what did she want, exactly? She was so tempted to simply leave, but she didn't want that on her conscious…

"It was selfish of me to have made you take up the position of Guildmaster, I will admit that… But you have done incredibly lass, even if you cannot see it yourself. I've never seen the guild so prosperous, never seen the rest of the guild so happy. If I knew that it came at the cost of your happiness…" He sighed quietly, before taking hold of her cheek and leaning in. "I never would have proposed it. It should have been me taking that role in the first place."

"Bryn…" She was having to choke back her tears yet again. "I don't know. I- I just… I like to think that I'm good at what we do, but… I don't think that it's for me." Thorne tilted her head back, and inhaled deeply. "I… might have to. Pass on my role to somebody else. Somebody who is happy with what they do, and do it well. Somebody like you."

He quietly whispered her name as he acknowledged what she had said, though allowed her to take a few moments to dwell on it. It came as a shock to him, though it was just as much one to her – she had finally said what had been on her mind for months, from the moment that she was taken to the centre of the Cistern, and the members of the guild unanimously named her their new guildmaster.

A throat being cleared beside the table drew their attention after a few long moments, and they saw Keerava staring at them both. "Did either of you hear me? I suppose not… If you are not ordering any more drinks, then please leave. I need to clean up before the evening crowds come in."

They exchanged a brief look, before Brynjolf rose to his feet, and took hold of her hand. "Come on, lass. We can finish this conversation in Honeyside."

A warmth flooded her face as he mentioned his home. With the money which the guild had been making over recent months, she had thought it fair to split some of the excess wealth between members and associates of the guild. Somehow, Brynjolf had managed to persuade Jarl Laila to grant him the deed to a house with his cut. It was like their own private sanctuary away from the Cistern or the Ragged Flagon, and the only place where nobody dared to disturb them.

The rain hadn't let up as the doors to the Bee and Barb opened, and had in fact grew heavier during their time indoors. Fortunately, their destination was not far, so they wouldn't be looking like drowned rats once back indoors once more.

"Lass… what do you say to making your stepping down from the position of guildmaster something to remember?" Brynjolf asked once they had stepped out onto the streets, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Go out on a high which nobody else could ever live up to. Leave a bigger mark on guild history than you already have."

Thorne raised her eyebrow and pursed her lips together. "What high-profile heist did Delvin try to rope you into this time?"

Brynjolf let out a hearty chuckle at her response as he put his arm over her shoulders. "I always forget you can read me just as I can read you. Just before he started talking to you earlier, he was telling me about some reliable information that there are going to be some very notable targets passing through little old Helgen in a few days' time. I'm talking Jarls. High-ranking soldiers. People who have both expendable money and expensive little trinkets that can easily be replaced if they were to… misplace them, so to speak."

She rolled her eyes and let out a quiet laugh of her own. "And you weren't too keen on doing that, were you?"

"Well, Delvin felt that given our… abilities which Nocturnal granted us, it would be a safe job in the hands of one of us two. And I feel that you have a safer pair of hands than I do."

For a few moments, she thought the proposal over, the sound of both rain and their feet landing in puddles being the only noise which broke the silence. Eventually, she exhaled quietly, then nodded. "Okay. I'll do it. My last job. Go out on a high, as you said."

The rest of their short journey was quiet, in part driven by the fact that she was thinking about what sorts of targets would be in Helgen, and what possibly could have happened to bring together numerous figureheads of Skyrim to such a small mountain town.

When they arrived, he opened the door, and allowed her in first. As soon as the door to Honeyside fell shut behind him though, she turned on her heel and exhaled quietly, before pressing a brief kiss to his lips. "When I return from Helgen… I don't think I will stay once I've fenced everything to Tonilia. I'll pass the torch on to you. I will obviously return to Riften on occasion, but… Knowing that my last job will be one that will go down in guild history, I can at least say I accomplished something in my time here."

"You've done a lot to be proud of, Thorne… Don't put yourself down like that." He then exhaled quietly, and took her cheeks into his hands. "But I assume that this means that… between us is…"

The topic she had been dancing around all night, the thought which had been lingering in the back of her head from the moment he had asked if she wanted to take a step away from everything. It was possible that she could continue her relationship with Brynjolf… but a future in Riften was not on the cards for her, and Riften was his home. The guild's home. She couldn't tear him away from that. "A clean break may be what I need to figure out what I want to do with myself. But…" Her breath trembled as she inhaled. "I won't say that it doesn't hurt suggesting that we break up."

He nodded silently, though she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and gave him a smile.

"We still have time before that comes to pass though. And before you get all mopey over mead as you did when Mercer tricked you into thinking I was dead, remember that it isn't because of you. This is because of me, okay? You've been the light in my darkness, and I cannot thank you enough for it."

Slowly and delicately, he leaned over and pressed a feather-light kiss to her lips, a smirk once more across his face. "Then if this is to be one of our last nights together… Shall we make the most of it?"

...

When Thorne woke up, it was to the sound of birds chirping and sunlight breaking through Honeyside's windows. Brynjolf appeared to still be in a deep sleep beside her, one of his arms draped over her torso as he quietly snored. Slowly, she eased herself out from beneath his arm and the bedsheets, and went around the room, gathering together her clothes from the night before just to throw them into a nearby basket. She then went over to the drawers which she had hastily thrown some spare clothes into one of the last times she had spent the night there to get some of them, and pulled them on as quickly and quietly as she could.

Once dressed, she ran a hand through her hair quickly, just enough to make it not look as though she had just gotten out of bed, then walked over to the kitchen and grabbed one of the pastries which were there. It was somewhat stale, possibly from a day or two ago, but she didn't really care.

The quiet sound of Brynjolf stirring caught her attention as she wiped the crumbs from her face, and she silently gulped. She had wanted to make parting as painless as she could, without the need for goodbyes – even though she knew that she would be back, to return with what she could get away with stealing from Helgen. She wanted to make things easy for him by slipping out before he woke up.

"Lass…?"

She was frozen to the spot as he walked into the kitchen, and by Nocturnal he hadn't even bothered with getting dressed.

"Are you leaving? Already? It's barely sunrise…" He was rubbing at his eyes as he glanced between her and the window. "You were at least gonna say bye to me before you left, right?"

He walked over to her as her lips parted only slightly, uncertain as to whether she was going to tell him the truth of what she had wanted to do. She quickly settled on not doing so as he took hold of her shoulders and squeezed them as best as he could given his half-asleep state.

"… Promise me you will keep in contact, lass," he murmured, pulling her close to him in a quick embrace. "Even if we're not together, we are still a family. I want to know if you ever find the happiness which you are after... Promise me, yeah?"

She was silent for a moment, before nodding quietly. "I promise." She then stepped back, and took a deep breath. "I'm… going to go over to the Cistern to grab some stuff. Give Vex my vault key. Then make my way to Helgen. I don't suppose that whilst I'm gone… you could put some pants on and let everyone know that I'm stepping down as guildmaster?"

Brynjolf raised an eyebrow, now seeming much more alert than he previously had been upon hearing her plans. "I will. But remember that you're coming back after the Helgen job. You can tell everyone when you return…"

"… I know. But I just thought… hearing the news from you will soften the blow a bit. They all know and trust you. I still feel like a stranger to some people. I mean, they go to you to handle their problems more than they do me, so I don't feel that it will make much of a change to the guild dynamic…"

His hands gently cupped her face. "You'd be surprised, lass. Losing you will leave a bigger gap than you could possibly anticipate…" He then took a deep breath. "We will miss you. I will miss you. And if you ever want to come back, or if things don't work out as you venture out into the world, the doors to the Cistern will always be open for you."

Her eyes fell to the floor, before she took a step back. "… I'll… bear that in mind. Thank you, Bryn."

She needed to leave before she changed her mind.

[4getfulimaginator2022]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

I haven't been tagged, but I saw @fandomsbyladymelodrama do one of these a few months back - so of course, I wanted to give it a try. 🙃 Also, I haven't done any personal posts on here in forever. Time for a change!

How many works do you have on AO3? I have 18 works so far. And when it comes to ships, it looks like I have a "type." 😉

What's your total AO3 word count? Oh boy. 660K+ right now and growing all the time because when stories speak, I write.

What fandoms do you write for? Mainly Once Upon a Time (starting in 2013), followed by Game of Thrones (2024, baby!) and then that 1 Greek myth collection thingy. I was a die-hard Once fan back in the day and watched episodes religiously, so all the canon lore was seared into my brain until season 6 (when I dropped the show because the writing was so off the rails). Surprise, surprise - I haven't watched GoT in its entirety. Everything I know is through my own research, watching videos, reading, reading, reading, and the contributions of the wonderful Jorleesi fandom.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos? All Captain Swan fics, in order from the most to the least: 1) Heart Bound 2) Only the Beginning 3) A Cobbler's Life For Me 4) Be My Angel, Be My Demon 5) Nevermore

Do you respond to comments? I try! I used to be less strict about replying to comments, but with my resurgence in fanfic after years of absence, I have replied to each and every one. Currently, I am behind on replies, but I will get around to it again. Soon.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Oof. I don't do angsty endings because I will die on the hill that is Jane Austen: “My characters shall have, after a little trouble, all that they desire.” Probably my angstiest ending is in Trader of Hearts, which is a really dark fic. I do have a one-shot that is semi-angsty, though: Thinking of You.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? *deer in headlights look* I make it my business to give my beloved characters the happiest endings I can. Seriously. I don't know how to rank endings against each other, since the characters always end up together. I currently think my happiest ending is for The Old Curiosity Shop, my Jorleesi fic.

Do you get hate on fics? I have, but these were readers telling me how I should write my stories "the right way." I also have gotten spam comments. Overall, people are pretty nice.

Do you write smut? Hoo-hah! 😏 Let's count: I have 3 fics rated Mature and 5 fics rated Explicit. That's half of my fic repertoire. And when I do Explicit, it's ❤️‍🔥. Enough said.

Do you write crossovers? No. Not happening, cannot do, end of discussion.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Well... There was a scandal back on FF.net in 2014 or 2015? Websites were copying all fanfics to scammy websites or selling fanfics as ebooks. Not cool. I used to have all my content on FF.net, but now only my in-progress fics are there. All my fics are up on AO3.

Have you ever had a fic translated? No, not that I know of.

Have you ever co-written a fic before? Hey, if someone is offering... But again, no. No one ever wanted to co-write with me. 🥺 But maybe it's because I'm sooooooooo bossy!

What's your all-time favorite ship? Oh crap. All-time favorite?! WHAT. I have to cheat here and say there's a tie: Captain Swan and Jorleesi. Emma Swan and Killian Jones had a long journey to love and happiness, both in terms of their individual character growth and their relationship as a couple. The more I learned about them, the harder I fell in love with them. It helped that the CS fandom was HUGE as the ship became canon, and Tumblr was so active then that #captainswan was all over the place. We were one of the largest canon ships for that show. Now, as for Jorleesi... Jorah Mormont's loyalty and devotion earned my attention and respect from the first, and then when I found out about his love for Daenerys and her repressed love affection for him, I was a goner. My 2 OTPs: both women are BAMFs who are survivors and warriors, while their guys value love above all and are willing to die to protect them (*sobbing for Jorah because noooooooo* 😭)

What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Heart Bound. This fic... I love this fic. This is my Jane Eyre/Jane Austen fix. It's my 2nd period piece and I adore some of my prose in this one. It. Needs. 4. Chapters. To. Be. Complete. Can I do it? Yes. Do I want to do it? *cries* Of course I do but it's hard...

What are your writing strengths? Hmm. Some would say it's my prose, while others would say that I know how to channel emotion into my writing. I like to incorporate literature and historical references into my fics (historical AUs or not), so I think I've done well with that. I've also been told that my characterizations are fantastic and unique. You do notice that I'm not claiming credit for any of these observations, right? Usually, I believe my writing is awful and I could have done so much better. I have a hard time acknowledging my strengths. You could hand me an Olympic gold medal for Writing and I would still insist that it's all lies. My self-belief and confidence have not improved over the years.

What are your writing weaknesses? Dialogue. It's always dialogue. I want it to be realistic but my vocab gets in the way and it starts sounding like prose. Not good. But I am getting better! No way to go but up.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? Maybe I'd do it, but it would have to be necessary for me to put in the effort. I don't purposely bamboozle my readers. 🤣

First fandom you wrote for? Once Upon a Time (of course *rolls eyes*). One Against the Wind is my ultimate period fic - pirates, the Caribbean, my tribute to PotC and pirate novels I've read. I created character backstory when there was no canon backstory. It's also my longest fic at 147K words. So proud of it and it still holds a special place in my heart. 😍

Favorite fic you've written? Ugh, no no no! I always, always say I cannot have one favorite because that is BORING. But okay, I will say that at the moment, it's The Old Curiosity Shop. I just did a full read of the entire fic and my heart absolutely melted. Adorable, heartbreaking, angsty, and so romantic. Jorleesi, I love you and I will die for you. You own my heart a thousand times over. ❤️

Fineeeee, I'll tag 5 people (no worries if you don't want to do this - completely voluntary fun and games here 💕): @ser-jorah-the-andal, @rileypotter17, @houseofthebear, @clarasimone, @thank-god-and-you

[boygiwrites]

Harley D. Dixon 33

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📖Chapter List.

Author's Note.

TW: CHARACTER DEATH. OFF-SCREEN SUICIDE.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You think they will?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I hope so."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Absolutely," He says, taking it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"She's attacking me!"

"I'm a biter, too!"

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

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

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

A face peeks out, melted and dripping.

A walker?

Out here?

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

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

I exclaim, "What the Hell?"

Where'd they come from?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I stand up, ready to help.

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

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

"Let's go, girl!"

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

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

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

"Daddy!"

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

T-Dog shoves me forward.

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

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

"Come on!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There ain't no bug on his ankle.

There's a gaping bite.

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

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

The door shudders violently in the background. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Daddy?"

"Hm?" He grunts, leaning toward me.

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

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

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

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

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

"How you feelin', man?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nods his head in jerky movements.

"I-I know," He says.

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

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

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

"I know," He placates. "I'm sor—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But I can still smell the gunpowder in the air.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Horrible," She croaks.

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

"Is everyone okay?" I ask him desperately.

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

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

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

And that right there is good luck.

Glenn steps over a body. "Come on."

Author's Note.

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

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

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

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

Thank you for reading. Always appreciate you! 💙

@poetoflawed

[leedee013]

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 7 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 ILU have fun!!!!

AFTG ask game

I LOVE YOU TOO MWAH

all my answers are going to be under the "read more" because hoo boy.

When did you first read aftg?

I first read AFTG by listening to the first audiobook while riding around the bus and trains in Germany, then Seth died, I immediately needed to finish the series, and then I read the entire series in less than 48 hours rifp.

2. All For The Game or The Sunshine Court?

All For the Game. The Sunshine Court is about my son, Jean, but also... because he's my son I have a lot of points where I simply like what I wrote better! and a fair number of complaints with TSC, since a lot of the way Jean's trauma rears its head is far less realistic than how Neil's trauma rears its head.

3. Favourite scene(s)?

I won't lie, one of my favorite scenes is when Neil gets back from his father's home and the Foxes all sleep on the floor together. I'm a huge sucker for found family and hurt/comfort and MAN that scene ticked off all my boxes. It's the one that I'll actually go back every now and then to reread. Wymack's joke about "Wesninski" and that feeling of finally having a family gets to me literally every time. And blah blah yeah I also really love the mentality of Andrew dragging Wymack behind him as he crashes through everything just so he can get back to Neil's side.

4. If you could choose to make one fictional place from the books real, which one?

That place they go to when they get ice cream/milkshakes before going to Eden's Twilight! It sounds amazing

5. A character you think deserves to be more present in the books?

Hngh this is difficult because I do believe that, at least as far as AFTG goes (aka excluding TSC) the characters are all as present as they need to be. Neil is very tunnel-visioned, and I think that it's a solid amount of screentime for each character, so to say. Like my first thought was Seth, but it wouldn't have fit Neil's character for Seth to haunt him at all. Therefore, I think overall I'd liked to have seen more of Jean for purely selfish reasons. Also more Renee!

6. A non-canon ship you love?

Jean/Renee, Jean/Jeremy, Jean/Kevin, Renee/Riko, and then any mix and match of those characters in throuples/quoples/poly ships! I'm also a big fan of Dan/Renee because woooo enemies to lovers?

7. A part of the extra content you whole-heartedly agree with

Andreil never say "I love you" or get married. Also that Dan gets to take over the Foxes when Wymack retires. Also Sir and King but like. Who doesn't agree with that.

8. A crackship/crackships you've come to love

Rinee (Riko/Renee), I adore it so much okay. I love the healing energy of it all and also the way that Renee attracts the most strange and unhinged people to her.

9. Underrated aftg fanartist / fic writer (tag them!)(link if they're not on tumblr)

well obviously @capcavan @jtl-fics and @emry-stars-art can never be OVERrated. But I think the true underrated AFTG fanartist is @noomyart <3

10. A villain you think is fucking hot

well. uh. villain I guess would be Nathan. Antagonist? Riko

11. A side character you love and/or appreciate

NICKY, I love him so much. Also Renee. And Dan. And Matt. I'm so mad I can't just say Jean anymore since he's not really a side character anymore GAH

12. Favourite narrative foil?

I adore the Riko/Neil narrative foil. Both the sons that were not wanted, both having their lives attached to Exy and using it as a way to solidify their freedom/independence, while Neil had someone who tried to save him and Riko could only ever try to save himself.

13. Favourite narrative symbolism?

In general my favorite narrative symbolism are the keys; how they unlock opportunities for Neil; how they are signs of trust that others put in him; how they are something I don't think he ever thought he'd have (solidity/a home). I also love how much symbolism they hold for him, as well.

14. A character you would actually get along with in real life

Nicky (we'd bond over escaping our parents by running to Germany and using each other as an excuse to practice German) or Matt (because he's chill he's fun and he reminds me a lot of some of my actual friends from college).

15. A character you love but would deck in real life

Neil lmao

16. How did you even get here?? How did you discover AFTG?

I was browsing the Banana Fish tag and saw a post that was like "hey! do you wish that you had a series that was everything you loved about Banana Fish but with way more of Eiji pole-vaulting? then you should check out All for the Game for its mafia-infused sports anime vibes! and huzzah I haven't gotten off the hook yet

17. Would you play exy?

I feel like I'd be pretty good at it if I'd put my mind to it. It seems like fun and also I'm a bit of a masochist so I think the rougher plays would be really fun!

18. A fancast you will never let go of

Tbh I don't really have a fancast for any of the characters

19. A fancast you love that is super silly

I did see a guy the other day who made me double take and go KEVIN???? in my head if that counts

20. Which character would be the last to die in a actual zombie apocalypse?

Probably Renee tbh because she's unsuspecting, can broker peace between people who are fighting, and has absolutely no issue wielding and using knives in fights.

21. Would andrew minyard have beef with you?

Idk I feel like we'd vibe really well but wouldn't necessarily be close. He might get annoyed at how go-with-the-flow I am, though

22. Hyperspecific aro and or ace kevin headcanon?

I enjoy these headcanons and seeing people write them but I personally don't ever write him as either aro or ace. All the power to those who do though <3

23. Something you are very sure will happen in TSC2

Trojans win and 2. Jean meets the Foxes again before/after a game and it's emotional

24. Nicky or Allison? (Character wise and personality wise seperate)

I'm biased but Nicky. I relate way too hard to his story to not be biased here. But also I relate heavily to Allison and love her as well. I think she's also a lot more underappreciated out of the two, and gets a lot of unfair hate.

25. You're now only allowed to ship Kevin with one person (1) who is it?

man you're really out here discriminating against me and my poly ship here /t, but if it's only one person then I'd say Jean because again, I'm biased.

26. A 2000s song any one/ship/group of character would listen to

I feel like Andrew would secretly adore Lady Gaga's Poker Face and know all the lyrics even if he'd never sing along.

27. A detail or element from an older draft you would've loved to see in the final draft

LMAO so. I'm personally a fan of the version where Riko shot Kevin because Neil dodged/Kevin dove in front of him. I don't think I would have swapped the ending that we got for it instead, but I did think that it would have been an interesting change.

Also Riko and Kevin with longer hair

28. If you had to kill a fox. (Seth doesnt count.)

Aaron, because oh boy that poor medical student is probably already begging for some anvil to drop on him from the heavens

Question 29 for jean! Name a favorite Jean dialogue/quote

All of them because Jean is my favorite but also I think I'm going to go with "I will endure. I will endure. I will endure" because it's the first one I found while flipping through my copy of TSC and skimming for lines I thought were powerful. A classic is "Did a week away from the court damage your ball-battered brain?" (TSC 24), though. And then of course, as a Jeanee fan, the entire conversation between Jean and Renee on pages 68-69 where they talk about finding the joy in small things in life and taking a chance on himself and and

anyway hello thank you for coming to my TED talk

[epickiya722]

There's a certain part of the bnha fandom that think Bakugo's revival was incredibly stupid and that he deserves to stay dead. It's actually pretty disturbing how badly they want a teenage boy to die while they themselves simp for people like AFO or Shiggy and act like they deserve a second chance "because they're tragic villains 🥺"

And the ones who harass bkdk shippers for claiming their moments as romantic while they wish the exact same moments to happen for their own ships wil never stop being funny to me lmao.

Ain't it something?

It's so funny they pull the "Bakugou is a bully" card, but turn around and harass others. Like they're so pressed about someone enjoying a ship they could simply block tags for and just not engage with the content, that they go as far as to use words like "delusional" for liking a ship, which no one should be doing.

When Bakugou died, I never was so quick to unfollow and block people. It was so irritating that they were celebrating a death of a kid who isn't as bad as a lot of other characters in BNHA and other media.

Now they're whiny because he's back. Well, boo hoo for them.

"It's bad writing that Bakugou is alive again".

It was obvious he was coming back just from him being a popular character. Otherwise, why would Best Jeanist and Edgeshot working to repair his heart? Because he was coming back!

They're only saying it's "bad" writing because they're not satisfied that Bakugou is alive and now look silly.

I do not feel an ounce of pity for them and ain't going to. They were really going around harassing people and being absolutely bullies without even a thought of how they could affect someone's mental health doing that.

I bet some of them right now are reeling in how wrong of their actions are and probably don't see how wrong they were still.

Like, if you are this kind of person, going around in people's inboxes, replying on and reblogging their posts to be an ass because you felt like it, I don't want you around my blog.

"It's just fiction."

Yes, and people use it as an escape from whatever they may be going through, you never know and it's unfair when they can't go to that fiction and enjoy being in a fandom because people are assholes.

And yeah, it is actually so funny to me that people will isn't romantic and even say "they're like brothers" and yet will made edits of THE SAME MOMENTS THEY SAID ARE "BROTHERLY" for their ships. Makes no sense.

Like how are you going to say that the stare Bakugou and Midoriya shared has "no romantic value" to it and "stop making it romantic", but then edit, like... Kirishima in Midoriya’s place and go "SHIP GOALS, BOYFRIENDS"!

First, off... using Midoriya’s face as a base for Kirishima is like... odd. Imagining it in my head looks weird. Their faces are just too different.

Second, ain't Kirishima somewhere else?! I don't think he's even aware that Bakugou died!

Before anyone says anything, yes I know the fights are being broadcasted, but not everyone is paying attention to the broadcast given that they're too busying fighting.