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corpsentry · 2 months

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recent stories i have read or watched or vored sexily

1. so yesterday i was on page 139 of gideon the ninth and today i finished it. i did nothing until i finished it. i physically could not stop. i mean i should have known it from the moment it had the most epic characters page of all the houses and each house had cool as balls names like Hope Of The Emperor and Wisdom Of The Emperor and Rose Unblossomed or however that one goes but holy mother of god…………. they did not lie this book went hard as fuck. i was reminded of something and i’m going to reblog it shortly so you can read it but i saw a tumblr post that was talking about dungeon meshi’s character designs versus genshin impact’s and another where an author was like ok but where’s the gross part?? where’s the pathetic in the characters??? and gideon the ninth does this so well. god, gideon and harrow are trying to beat each other into the ground for the better part of the book but then you get this insane 180 flip and they’re in a POOL and mein gotte when harrow said i am undone without you my eyes cried Just A Little. i forget, i think, sometimes, that people are most beautiful when they are wretched and clumsy and honest. i think this particularly because i’ve been on a hetero chinese language dramas and movies binge lately and i turned off the part of my brain that revels in messy honest art and let the part that wants to stare at bailu for 30 hours stare at bailu for 30 hours. but maybe it is time to stop watching things only to look at beautiful women (who are, admittedly, very fucking beautiful). maybe it is time to GO TO THE FUCKASS FARAWAY LIBRARY TOMORROW TO BORROW HARROW THE NINTH. what da hell. the world building in this novel is motherfucking exquisite. you have to work so goddamn hard to make a line like Emperor the Necromancer Divine God Salvation The Resurrection with a bunch of little semicolons in between work but it works, it works because it’s cool, it’s cool because it’s grimey and gross and funny, i would do astounding things for all of these people (except silas, who can get fucked). and gideon is such a spectacular narrator, to be introduced to this world through her eyes is an honor and a gift, and harrow….. HARROWWWWWWW AOUUUUUUUU YAUUUUUUUUUUUU i’m obsessed. it’s over. i am officially down horrendous

2. now i’m gonna talk to you guys about amidst a snowstorm of love 在暴雪时分. my mom keeps being like so are you done with the helsinki drama yet and i have to keep being like no because There Is No Drama but anyway ok i started it because wulei…….. and now i am Bereft and Despaired fr that they put wulei in this when man has so much more to him. listen up my guys. i have never seen or read or heard or played a story that has so little….. story. it is remarkably, devastatingly substanceless. it is like watching a 3 hour chill lofi playlist. every once in a while the dog in the animated background runs around the armchair. the fire crackles through the same 5 frames. otherwise— nothing. i’m honestly amazed that they managed to do this, this, this is Not what slice of life is. this is also not what straight romance is??? i am a longtime purveyor of the hetero romance arts and this is hetero romance sans all of the misunderstandings and miscommunications that generate teary breakdowns and mismanaged fights. there is literally no conflict which can be fine except there isn’t even, like, admiration for the small things in life or familial love or friendship which Does Not A Story Make. now i don’t say this lightly as i am a strong believer that if the plot only advances because the cast is too fucking stupid to talk to each other then it’s a shit plot but for the first time in my life i wish there Would be a petty misunderstanding so we could at least see a fraction of the characters’ personalities. now see the Premise is that the protagonist goes to finland to participate in a 9-ball competition and pulls the brooding grad student she meets there back into the world of billiards or whatever but the 9-ball is just a vehicle in the purest sense for the romance. she will be like i practice now and then go practice and then wulei shows up with coffee and that’s it, the 9-ball table was there so wulei could lean on it and look hot in 4 shots. i’m genuinely astounded. nothing fucking HAPPENS in this drama. literally i will sit through an entire episode and it’s just like, zhao lusi wants coffee…., there is coffee…., romantic moments (6-7) insert song (2-3) close up slow mo gazing (399999). seriously i would commit unspeakable crimes for wulei but even i cannot watch this drama straight without falling asleep. it is the emptiest thing i have ever seen and it is so spectacularly committed to this absolutely void of writing. also wulei’s character is dirt poor but he spends all his money on taking zhao jinmai to expensive ass fuck restaurants and then gets sick from overwork and no one TALKS about it. it’s not even a decent straight romance because there is no communication or anything remotely interesting happening in the relationship. it’s not a drama, mein gott, it’s a medley of cute heartwarming moments between two very beautiful and very talented actors who have been kidnapped and locked in a snowy nightmare where all they can do is smile at each other shyly and sometimes hold hands. crazy…………….. wasted potential for my babygirls………. (bereft)

3. watched episode 2 of oh no here comes trouble不良执念清除师 i cannot get over the fact that pu yiyong draws digital art. it’s just so lovely a detail. the first time they showed his drawing tablet and the tablet pen i was like WOAA…. HES JUST LIKE ME FR i mean he’s just like me fr he has a goofy little mullet and he talks back like it’s his 9-5 it’s brilliant. this is excellent representation for brooding angsty teens who also like to draw with clip studio paint. Possibly watching this at 2 am was a mistake as i am prone to nightmares about godless things but it’s such a fun drama and it handles tonal shifts with a clarity that i rarely see in tv….. also pu yiyong’s actor is just great. i mean god, he has eyebrows and they’re mad at you. good for him. slay

4. we’re on episode, i dunno, 23 of the double墨雨云间 now i think and it’s great but it’s true, especially after binging 80% of gideon the ninth in one day that much like how genshin impact’s character designs are designed to be attractive to as many people as possible, the double’s characters are meant to be perfect and attentive to the maximum number of people. the catharsis of seeing the protagonist triumph over the evil conspiring antagonist is only cathartic so many times, and i think im running up against the ceiling of that catharsis. we know fangfei’s brilliant and we know xiaoheng won’t let anything happen to her so it just becomes 5d chess between the morally black and white chess players, it becomes watching schemes unfold and collapse like origami boats, over and over again. they don’t sink because there isn’t any water. they’re beautiful but they can’t bear weight. and after spending too much time in these homes, in the chinese dramas hole or the kpop gorilla groups hole or the mainstream shounen hole i have to punch myself in the dick and be like ok now you are re entering the world as a person amongst other people, because it gives you tunnel vision! they’re all conventionally attractive queens with snatched waists and perfectly managed profiles, variety show personalities but you see i remembered that I Want Harrowhark Nonagesimus. i want the grit and the dirt and the morning sunlight all at once. what i mean is i will be borrowing harrow the ninth from the public library tomorrow if it means i have to take a train 2 hours out to fuckass nowhere to get it. what i mean is i am going back into the game and i am going 2 Win

#gelmo #i think what these chinese period dramas are largely is fantasy right #you want to be powerful and beautiful and always win. and in a lot of these that is what happens #but as a result they have this kind of emptiness. a transparency to the writing that betrays the nick in the writing #there’s something missing. it’s the lameness. the pathetic. the embarrassing #a story that cannot acknowledge the humanity of its characters !! does not tell a story of people #it can be a story about deities or gods or angels but. not people. we are far messier and therefore more enchanting #but god i love bailu……..#but god and i keep coming back to dungeon meshi lately #a story like dungeon meshi wouldn’t ever be made into a chinese drama. they’d take one look at the body types and go no. cannot #and that makes me sad. that this claustrophobic worldview is what so many young folks inherit #same goes in kpop which is why i can only take week long sojourns into going seventeen #it’s just like. there are so many beautiful people in the world!!! god even i forget when i just look at wonyoung for 8 hours #and that’s not good. we must Rember. cathedrals everywhere for those with eyes to see or whatever

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word-wytch · 10 months

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My thoughts on Flight of Icarus (so far!)

I finally got my hands on the book yesterday and also had time to read which hasn’t happened in a very hot minute.

These are just my first impressions, commentary, and takeaways from chapters 1-9.

More will come, but I am realizing that I have so much to say that I need to break it up ✨

I will start off by saying that I was skeptical, as all of us were, when this book was announced. Prior to reading it, I had been steering clear of spoilers and others’ reactions just so that I could go in completely unbiased and with an open mind and heart.

Within the first 10 pages, I was crying. Like, openly weeping. Something about Eddie talking first person about his childhood experiences and confirming what so many of us suspected hit me so suddenly. I was not prepared for the swell of emotions that bubbled over as a result of not only that, but reading his name printed on a real, hard bound book when I've only ever read it from a screen was something else as well. Something about it being officially licensed by ST and providing us with some concrete backstory (if we choose to take it) for so many things that we've been only speculating on for the last year and a half.

These are a few snippets that really had me going:

Anyway, I'm broken.

Onto the writing --

I genuinely think what I've read so far has been incredibly well-written. The first person narration sounds so much like Eddie, as does the dialogue. The insights and ways he describes things cleverly but also with that touch of dark humor that he deflects with so often is very present. I do feel like I'm stepping into his curly noggin and viewing the world through his bambi eyes. It's such a treat.

Also, I have noticed her using many words that he frequently uses in his limited dialogue on the show in her narration, the main one I can think of right now being "not exactly". It's touches like these that let me know how closely she's paying attention.

I am also impressed with the general quality of prose, how she seamlessly integrates setting and character description into the scene. Also clever and creative ways to describe objects that still stay very in character. This one stands out:

Also this. This hyper-awareness that his home life is different than his peers, something I try to illustrate in my own writing and appreciate that this author did as well:

As a writer, I learn so much from reading. I can honestly say that I am learning from this experience as well, and dare I say it, am inspired.

The chapter I am working on now for DSSCTM deals heavily with similar themes and questions that FOI covers, such as Eddie's motivations for staying in school, his relationship to his dad, and how he views himself. So I feel a lucky sense of coincidence that this book was released during the time I am writing it. I, like everyone else, invented my own backstory for his parents that suited the story I was trying to tell and will keep it for consistency going forward.

Characters that stuck out to me --

Gareth -- OH. MY GOD. BABY GARETH. Little fluffy ball of rage. I cannot. My heart is going to explode fr. Also the tenderness with which Eddie handles him is just too much for me.

Ronnie -- Stan her. You know, this character really makes me wonder how much of our fics the author has read because I feel like it is one of the most common and earliest tropes for our Reader characters to be best friends of his that grew up in the trailer park along side him. Maybe it's just an obvious trope? But interesting she included it. Also making her the book-smart one who's got a golden ticket out is another very common thing I see in our stories.

Chrissy -- I love the bit of backstory I've read so far and how sympathetic she writes her. I love that we get the whole scene of them before the talent show and them bonding for a short moment.

Al -- There aren't enough words for how big a piece of shit this man is. When he said this to Wayne I almost yeeted my book across the room. Nobody talks to Wayne Munson like this in my house. 😤

Paige -- Eh. Not sold tbh. Although I do appreciate reading through Eddie's first person narration about him having a crush on someone though. It's cute. Just the crush part, not Paige specifically. She's mid so far.

Principal Higgins -- I had to suspend my disbelief a bit for how strong he came on tbh. I mean, I think she made a somewhat believable case for his absolutely unhinged behavior but it still struck me as borderline unbelievable how Higgins spoke to Eddie like that. What it did confirm for me was something I had suspected from the beginning, which is that Eddie's dad never graduated high school. Also, I appreciate the question being asked about why he is still in school BUT my issue is that this question isn't as applicable in his first senior year as it is in his third. I think the author was trying to find a reason for Higgins to be asking it and had to dig a little to try and make it believable. It's a question I have asked myself, one that I had Teach ask him in the first chapter of DSSCTM, and one I will be exploring in ch. 16.

One final theme-related thing I noticed and appreciate:

How chapter 4 ends with his dad telling him to sleep on the idea of pulling off a heist with him and chapter 5 begins with "The question is pretty simple. At the end of the day, who do you want to be?" and proceeds to a scene of him building a character with Gareth. Likewise in real life, Eddie is figuring out who he wants to be, and I think using this as a metaphor is really clever and beautiful.

ALSO. A theory. Illian died right? Illian wasn't Gareth's he was Jeff's. What if this is alluding to the possibility of another character we all know and love who supposedly died in canon to be able to come back and re-invent themselves? 👀

Could just be my delusional ass reading into this way too much but it was just a thought I had.

Anyway, onward. ✨

#flight of icarus #eddie munson #stranger things #please tell me your thoughts!!#I wanted to just have a place to dump all mine but also want to start a dialogue!

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cloudwhisper23 · 11 months

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Trick or treat ✨ฅ(•ㅅ•❀)ฅ

Depends on your interpretation of a treat, Pix. You get an excerpt.

The new school was interesting, at least in Chris’ opinion. Sure, people still gawked at his scar all the time, but it was so much better than where he was before. His English teacher immediately assigned reading partners, explaining that discussing the readings was just as important as drawing conclusions individually.

Chris glanced at his reading partner with disinterest. Her name was Millie Fitzsimmons, and she did not speak sign language. Her last name reminded him of Jeremy, which was the only reason he bothered to take an interest in her at all.

She was staring right back at him, seeming very interested in his dyed hair and scarred face. Chris didn’t take it personally. He did look interesting to an outside observer. His hair hadn’t really grown back yet either.

Millie leaned toward him as she spoke, “So, Chris. What types of books do you like to read?”

Chris tapped his pencil against his notebook for a moment, considering her question. His mother’s house had a wider selection of novels, and since she was gone all the time – albeit seeming more apologetic than his father or sister had been – he was allowed full access to her bookshelves.

Chris wondered if she was the reason his father’s house had absolutely no books or interesting material. It explained a lot, especially after he’d found his own name scribbled in the front cover of several books. He determined that they were definitely above his age-range when he’d originally read them, probably explaining his nightmares.

Finally, he remembered that Millie was waiting for a response. He shrugged, writing, “A bit of everything, to be honest. I prefer short stories to anything else.”

He wished he could explain better. That he loved seeing how writers wrote such wonderful stories without needing a whole book or even a series to capture it all.

While Millie skimmed the words he’d written, Chris quickly added, “Poe’s my favorite author though.”

“The Cask of Amontillado” was Chris’ favorite story to read since the Bite. The implied betrayal and potential for the narrator’s guilt at having killed Fortunato was all too familiar to Chris.

“Edgar Allan Poe is your favorite author?” Millie raised an eyebrow, mildly impressed. “What’s your favorite work by him?”

Chris stared at her for a moment. Should he be completely honest? Truth be told, no one had tried to hold a conversation with him this long before. He gave a so-so gesture before writing, “If I have to pick one, I’d say ‘The Cask of Amontillado.’ What about you?”

She hummed for a moment. “I’d say… ‘Annabel Lee.’ The love shared between her and the speaker transcends heaven and hell, Chris. Isn’t that amazing?”

Chris shrugged. He found the poem depressing, truth be told. He couldn’t even imagine understanding what it could feel like to care for someone like that, only to lose them to others’ jealousy. But Jeremy would, a voice muttered in the back of his mind. He frowned slightly as that came up. It was private information, and whomever Jeremy chose to be with was none of his business.

Millie was carefully watching his expression, and she frowned back at him. “Do you hate romance or something?”

Chris shook his head. He wrote, “I just don’t get it.”

“Huh. Maybe you should read more,” Millie said, patting him gently on the shoulder as the bell rang for the end of class.

He decided he didn’t really like Millie, after that moment. Maybe it was something he should’ve blamed the Bite for instead of her overwhelming emotional attachment to a piece of poetry, but really. Did people actually develop obsessions with other people’s relationships?

Unfortunately, the rest of his morning didn’t go very well, and he found himself stuck eating lunch with Millie that day. And the next day, and the next day.

He didn’t understand how the entire school just decided they weren’t worth the effort of getting to know, and he expressed it in his letters to Fritz. Fritz would write back, saying the social circles must’ve closed before he was ready for it.

Chris always scowled after he read that. So eventually, he gave up, instead asking Fritz how Susie was doing. Funnily enough, his responses to that were much lighter and more cheerful. Fritz had succeeded in getting her to spend more time with him at lunch, and apparently, they ate together every day.

Fritz talked about how much she loved baking and how cool she found his ability to run. Fritz was excited about his friendship with Susie, and Chris was certain he wanted to push it further. If he’d had any advice for Fritz, he’d tell him to slow down and make sure they were close enough that their friendship could handle it if things went downhill. But Fritz was his best friend, so he just pretended to be happy for him.

The next week, he decided to be nicer to Millie about her whole thing with romance. “So,” he wrote in his notebook during lunch, something Millie never ate. “I’ve attempted to figure out what you mean by the transcending romance, and I just don’t get it.”

Millie frowned as he started eating. “Well,” she said with severe emphasis, “I prefer the stories where they’re willing to die for each other. When one dies for the other, you really see how things are. Like, depending on how they grieve, you can tell whether they actually loved each other, or if something was amiss.”

Chris considered that for a moment. “So if they don’t mourn properly, they don’t love each other?”

“Exactly.” Millie’s frown faded. “See, you kind of get it.”

Chris frowned. “Well, if that’s how it works, then my family probably would prefer if I was dead.”

Millie stiffened. “What?”

Chris shrugged. “I don’t mean my mom. I just mean that my dad and my sister probably couldn’t care less if I was alive. So I left to live with my mom.”

“Oh.” Millie blinked at him. “I thought you meant they’d try to kill you or something.”

“Well, someone actually did do that too,” Chris wrote. “But it was an accident.”

“You’re a strange guy, Chris.”

Chris just shrugged. He didn’t really care either way what she thought. Pointedly taking a bite of his sandwich, Chris successfully ended the conversation.

“Got any plans for winter break?” Millie asked him a few days later.

Chris considered the question for a moment, before shaking his head. “Fritz wants me to come visit, but I don’t particularly feel like going back there.”

Especially since Fritz was talking about all the kids who’d gone missing. Each time it happened, Fritz sent a letter dedicated to all the information he knew about the kid who’d gone missing. Every time, Chris could tell right away, and he’d put it in his desk, unread. Fritz wasn’t sending those for a response anyway. It was just a way to cope, or so Chris believed.

He sent letters back asking about school and Fritz’s relationship with Susie. Fritz constantly shot back encouragement to come visit and see for himself, but Chris didn’t think he was ready to go back.

#cloud speaks #cloud writes #happy halloween!#ask box trick or treating #thanks for the ask!#evan lives au #i know we talked about calling it the runaway bear au #but he doesn't really runaway #so it kinda works #but not really?#so we're still on draft one #and there's still no title #but chapter one is going well so far #still can't remember mike for the life of him though

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1-h4v3-wr1t3rs-bl0ck · 9 months

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Did the first 10 chapters of fight club. Here are my thoughts:

SPOILERS FOR THE MOVIE AND THE BOOK!!

1. This is a dangerous book if you're an incel.

This is actually such a dangerous book if you go into it being an incel/ violent guy who watched the movie. Tyler describes how to literally blow up buildings, make dynamite, how to make your own silencer on a gun... This is a fucking amazing book and I'm having a great time but... Majority of the people in the fan base are people who heavily romanticise the graphic imagery and say shit like "I'm so Tyler Durden fr." And that kinda worries me when you literally give us a step by step into making napalm.

2. This is a queer book.

Think I'm joking? Here some reason I think it's a gay book. Again, I'm only on chapter 10/30.

The narrator essentially comparing his want for Tyler and Tyler's want for Marla as if they're even on the same level. Tyler and Marla have a strong sexual relationship... Why would the narrator compare that to what he has with Tyler, why would he describe it as a triangle?

Knowing that Tyler is a figment of his imagination is a weird perspective to have going into the book, but it helps. If Tyler is just made up by the narrator then... Me when I casually just start seeing this hot sweaty man on a nude beach.

The narrator is was more vulnerable with men than he is with women. He can't cry at the clubs, not until Bob shows up. Also I'm going to note that when Marla shows up to the clubs, he stoped crying and he can't sleep... He hates the thought of being vulnerable with a woman but he has no problem with crying in front of multiple men.

He repeats a lot of things Tyler says and does, Tyler heavily influences the narrator.

Tyler is vulnerable with the narrator.

Also just this line. Not honest women, he only says strangers. And he says this while being hugged by a man who's being vulnerable with him and sharing extremely sensitive details about his life. And as soon as he meets Tyler, Tyler starts over sharing immediately.

And this line about not needing to be married to a woman. They both bond over having daddy issues and then talk about "I'm wondering if another woman is really the answer I need." ... interesting... This obviously isn't inherently queer, but just to note, this scene in the movie is really um... Tyler's taking a bath while the narrator just sits in the bathroom and talks to him. Again, Tyler's made up. Why would his mind go to those kinds of places with a man?

3. The main characters are obsessed with death.

I think it's really interesting reading a book where the main characters are passively suicidal. I have read books before about suicidal characters but never passively suicidal characters. Both The Narrator and Marla have this going on. When The Narrators in the aeroplane he's hoping that it would crash and that he'd die, he never acts on his want to die though. Marla is slightly different in the sense that she does act on it occasionally. "Marla's philosophy of life, she told me, is that she can die at any moment. The tragedy of her life is that she doesn't."

Overall so far, fucking amazing book. I recommend this to anyone who has an interest in the movie or social commentaries or how toxic masculinity ruins men. 10/10 so far.

I'll post more notes when I get to chapter 20

#my post #books #fight club

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shabdforwriting · 2 days

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7 Key Points while Writing a Horror Story

These are great foundational points for crafting a compelling horror story! Let’s break them down a bit further to maximize their impact on your narrative:

1- Create Relatable Characters and Pace the Suspense

Start by developing characters that the reader can empathize with. When readers care about the characters, they become more emotionally invested, amplifying the tension. Gradually escalate the stakes by introducing eerie situations or subtle hints of danger. The pacing should build slowly before climaxing with intense moments, balancing quiet dread and bursts of action.

2- Develop a Strong Concept

A unique, well-thought-out premise is key to any good horror story. This could be a fresh twist on a classic theme (e.g., haunted house, supernatural entities, or psychological horror), but with a new angle or deeper layer of meaning. Consider what fears your story concept taps into—whether societal, existential, or personal—and how to present them in a way that resonates with modern readers.

3- Play on Psychological Fear

Fear of the mind often lingers longer than external threats. Manipulate emotions, blur the line between reality and delusion, and keep readers questioning what is real. Use psychological horror techniques like isolation, paranoia, or unreliable narration to instill a sense of unease. This creates an intimate terror that gets under the skin.

4- Effective Use of Violence/Gore

Violence and gore can be potent tools but should be used sparingly and strategically. Overloading a story with graphic content can desensitize the reader, while well-timed, shocking moments of brutality can be highly effective in heightening fear. Subtle, implied violence often has a stronger psychological impact than overly explicit scenes.

5- Twists and Surprises

Keep readers on their toes by introducing unexpected twists. These can range from character betrayals to the revelation of the true nature of the threat. Subverting expectations with well-crafted surprises will leave a lasting impression. However, these twists should feel earned, not contrived, to maintain believability and coherence.

6- Use the Unknown

The fear of the unknown is one of the most primal. Leave certain elements of your story unexplained to heighten this fear. Let the reader’s imagination fill in the blanks, as often what they envision is far scarier than what you could explicitly describe. Whether it’s an unidentifiable monster or a mysterious force, maintaining an air of mystery enhances dread.

7- Strong Ending Description

Your ending is crucial in leaving a lasting impact. Avoid neat resolutions unless necessary for your plot; ambiguous or unsettling conclusions often work better in horror. Whether the evil is vanquished or the characters are left in despair, make sure the final moments are vivid and impactful, sticking with the reader long after they’ve finished the story. This could be through a haunting image, a last shocking reveal, or an open-ended question.

By blending these elements, you’ll create a horror story that grips readers, evokes terror, and keeps them on edge from start to finish.

Source -

#writing tips #writing advice #publishers #writing community #writing ideas #writing prompt #writerscommunity #writer #book publishing #self publishing

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betelgo0ze · 1 month

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What is your favorite moment in Wings of fire?

Imma be so fr rn I haven’t actually read WOF in years lmao, I think I first read them when I was nine and I still have them but my tastes have definitely changed.

there a good comfort read during exams and a good throwback but I wouldn’t necessarily say it’s something that I enjoy outside of nostalgic purposes. Now that I’m older I can appreciate the concept though I don’t like the way it was executed. Not saying there badly written, simply that their not my cup of tea.

That being said I do remember REALLY loving any scene with Peril. She’s just such an unreliable narrator and even before we got a book w her POV it was clear to see her mental state and how far gone Scarlet had caused her to spiral. Her and Clays relationship is toxic and sort of icky and as a kid I recognized that but I liked it. At that age I hadn’t seen many characters written in complex ways, I was nine or ten when I first read it. Now that I’m older I LOVE toxic relationships. Hand me a darkly written romance novel and I’m set. Ofc these books were aimed towards younger audiences which wouldn’t let for Tui to go FULL toxic, but it was a good introduction to what would become my favorite genre. Unreliable narrators, toxic relationships, everything that makes a story interesting. Bad characters written perfectly.

Sorry that was a ramble lol. I remember also loving that one scene where Morrowseer(I deff spelled that wrong didn’t I)took Starflight hunting. I wish we got to see more of them, there such foils to each other.

#wings of fire #wof #wof peril #peril #wings of fire peril #wings of fire morrowseer #wings of fire clay #wings of fire starflight #wof starflight #mini rant #wof rant

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dracothedeatheatingcupcake-ao3 · 1 year

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slides into your inbox

hi i uh. drank a sinister potion (dr. pepper) on the way to school this morning and the problem with perfection filled my head for the fiftieth time so. i'm here now. soooo uh, warning for a very crazy caffeine induced audhd rant. 👍

i just like.... kinda wanna let u know how much this fic means to me. like fr. like seriously. it means a lot to me. we've been mutuals for a while so i feel like now's def a good time (and a long time coming lmao)

iirc i found ur fic when i was in the danganronpa trenches in like, 2021/2022 i think? it was summer and i had nothing better to do with my free time and i was super bored and ishimondo was my personality and i found it while going thru ao3 and was like "yeah. this sounds cool"

and i did NOT know what i was getting into let me tell you. adored the writing really fast. ur skill level actually blew me the fuck away like. instantly. all the characters were incredibly in character, everything was so detailed and i LOVED the fact that you made your writing very emotion driven. like you wrote a lot with like, exaggerated punctuation and pauses and spaces and stuff that i rarely ever see but i feel like your writing was like, so much better for that??? its something i've started to use in my writing because it just draws you in so much and just. puts you into their shoes almost instantly. like it sounds like you're in their head. like i think like that (got that narrator brain in me) and it was just so cool to see someone write like that. got a lot of good moments

and i honest to god binged that fic because it had me by a chokehold. like i'm talking i barely got sleep because i was so excited to read the next chapter the next day that my body would wake me up earlier. and i'd pull it out and binge the next chapter. and when i got to a point where the chapters where still being updated, i remember checking like. every sunday night or so every week to see if it got updated. so many cliffhangers that i was not normal about..........

and i recommended it to EVERYONE i knew that was into danganronpa. like i did not care if they usually read fanfiction or not i would sit there and go on infodump rants about this gay fanfiction i found on the gay fanfiction site and ik i confused them but like. that was how good it was to me. felt like it was a real book. and not only that i honest to god felt like i was reading about me.

like the way you wrote taka meant and continues to mean so much to me to this fucking day because i rarely ever see characters that are like me, at least in an honest to god way. and i was already connected to taka and loved him but i think you made him feel like an extension of me in a way and it just like. idk. it spoke to me man. ik i sound dramatic but it did.

like an autistic queer kid with a strict parent being thrown into so many situations where you just automatically assume everyone else is watching you, judging you, based on past trauma and experiences and just. at the same time so emotional and passionate and just genuine for lack of a better term. and the panic attacks that were written i actually almost had some during reading it because i felt it. that felt like me honest to god (not a bad thing btw!!! i am ok!! but that's a compliment because that's how accurate it was!!)

and during a time where i was dating people who just. idk its hard to explain. i knew they cared about me but there were so many times where there were disconnects. sexuality and gender (gender's not really a part of the story ik but yk what i mean) was a big one. and i felt how he would feel when mondo wasn't exactly the best when it came to his behaviors and expressions of love.

and now i'm with someone who is like. mondo at all his best moments. and even when he matches mondo's lower ones it feels like, there's more times where we can do what they did in the fic and work through it. be there for each other because even if we're both fucked up yk we can like. work through it. and that's so cool honestly?? its not transactional, it means something. i've felt both sides and it's so. crazy to me. it's just wild.

and while i didn't read a lot of it (mental health was NOT in a space where i could i'm gonna be so real) the other installment, the one where mondo comes over to taka's house and they gotta hide and stuff? i've felt that. god i've felt that. my current boyfriend (also a trans man) and i have had so many times where we've had to act as "friends" and hide our romantic gestures and being so deathly afraid of getting caught yk?

idk this fic made me feel seen, and i wonder if there's like... anyone else that feels that way. idk i feel like their definitely is. and i just kinda wanna like. thank you for writing something that just. made me feel heard in a time when i really really needed it. even if we didn't know each other it felt so wild to have a stranger sit there and give me and indirect hug and let me know that i am not the only guy struggling out there with this stuff. it's changed the way i view myself and how i view the world and it's so cool to me that even fanfiction of all things can do that. that's nuts man. you did that and i really wanna emphasize that you should be proud of that. that's so cool. you're writing is so fucking cool man.

and also another thing i. love. that you also wrote about sex being a form of like. expressing love for some people. i am demisexual so like. seeing a character that seemed to also exhibit that and really only feel and have that strong attraction to someone they love romantically and have a connection with, and do it to let the other person know they love them. it's like. that's cool. that's so cool. i'm shaking you that's so cool /pos

and while i'm not fixated on dr right now (as you can. probably tell. (btw obligatory "watch lego monkie kid but also you do not have to i just wanna let you know its cool" plug because of Tha Autism(tm)), and while my comic i was going to make is on a very long hiatus bc adhd is beating the shit out of me, i really want you to know how much i appreciate this fic and how much it just. lives in my brain. how much it makes me emotional to this day because it spoke to me; some random dude who was just getting out of high school who fucking needed that really really bad. and also i want you to know how excited i was when we become mutuals and i'm really really lucky to have someone so cool as my mutual, and you've become even cooler in my brain now that we're kinda yk. in a vaguely similar circle.

anyways i appreciate you so much!!!! and even if we're in different fandoms and stuff, and even if tpwp is also not being continued/on a hiatus i still appreciate what you did with it, and what you do now. don't understand all the fandoms you post but i got that respect for it. i'm in the corner with pom poms cheering u on.

so um. yeah! that was long. but i'm hyped up on caffeine and neurodivergent so ujhm. yea. hopefully this made sense lmao

~ your very much not normal mutual tyler 👍

Okay, sorry for the late response, I saw this when I got up this morning and needed the day to figure how to respond because this was. So much (in a good way I promise!!!!)

So, first of all, THANK YOU FOR THIS!! It's easy as a fic writer to feel discouraged with your writing, or to feel like you're not as "good" as other people, and it's things like this that remind me that whether or not I'm a "good writer," what I write does matter to people. And that's just... really special to me, so thank you for writing this all. It means so much to me.

I'm glad you like the dramatic pauses and the way I write, though! When I was younger, I always tried to limit doing that sort of thing, since I knew it wasn't considered "good" or "proper" writing. But with TPWP I just... decided to let myself write how I wanted to write and not think too much about it. I wrote TPWP kind of how I think, because I wanted it to feel like it was Taka's thoughts and emotions, even if it wasn't in first person. And I'm really glad that came across!

I've always been really big into psychology and introspection, which is one of the main reasons I write about things like that a lot. I like to get into characters heads and try to figure them out. See what they'd be like if this thing happened, or if this thing hadn't happened, etc. I write about struggles, because I struggled as a kid, but in more quiet ways. I mean, all things considered I had a good life. supportive, loving parents and older brother, good grades, people generally liked me and I never got in trouble. But I was so determined to do well that I psyched myself out. I was terrified of disappointing people and losing what I had, and I crumbled in middle and high school. Luckily I had good parents so I was able to stumble through it, but it always left me feeling isolated, since I could never articulate why I felt so off inside. It wasn't until I took an "abnormal psych" class in college that I even realized I had intense anxiety.

All of this to say that I'm glad I was able to resonate with you through my writing. I could never find the words to articulate myself when I was younger, so I took to writing to try and connect with people, to get a message across. Most of my stories have some form of "moral" or "lesson" that I'm trying to get across, lessons that I had to learn myself growing up. TPWP's was that perfection is impossible and that you have to learn to accept yourself for who you are. Honestly, I put the most of myself into Taka, since while I never had a distant parental figure who wanted me to be absolutely perfect, I was kinda that figure to myself. I wanted so badly to be "perfect" and "the favorite" and when I wasn't, I freaked out. I shut down and couldn't even explain to my parents why. So, with TPWP, I wanted to let other people know that it's okay to just... be you.

I don't know if any of this is making any sense, sorry. I had a long day at work and my head is a bit jumbled. Mostly just... thanks for writing this. Things have been tough lately between school and work, and it's nice to be reminded that my stories do matter to people. I never wanted to be a professional writer, but I did always want to write something that made someone, somewhere, feel something. Hopefully something good, something cathartic.

Oh, and as for the sex thing... that was honestly unintended, ha. But I'm Ace, so to me, that's what sex is. Or what it should be. A way to connect emotionally with your partner above all else. Honestly, the only reason I wrote sex into TPWP was to explore the way it would interact with their friendship, not to be like... sexual, ha. Glad you liked how I wrote it!

Anyway, thanks again for writing this!! And I'm glad we're mutuals too! Yeah, I am part of some interesting fandoms on my main blog, but I'm glad it's not too off-putting, ha. I'll try and check out that show some day, though! I don't have a lot of emotional energy to get into a new show at the moment (as I'm sure some people can understand, since starting a new fandom can be a lot at times), but maybe once (IF) things calm down for me I'll take a look! I have seen a lot of posts about the monkie kid show, not just from you, so it's something I might check out one of these days. I'm mostly waiting for Our Flag Means Death season 2 to air tomorrow so I can get washed away into Pirate Town for the next month or so, while the episodes release. 😅😅😅

#Ask answers #Personal post #Sorry for rambling.#I hope there aren't any typos but I'm too tired to read through it so hope it makes sense!

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yssjj · 1 year

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american psycho: he's just like me fr

In No Longer Human by Osamu Dazai, there’s a passage where the main character, Yozo, who is ostensibly Dazai (it is a semi-autobiographical book), struggles to figure out exactly what the hell his Sister wants from him in a fairly obvious situation:

“One autumn evening as I was lying in bed reading a book, the older of my cousins–I always called her Sister–suddenly darted into my room quick as a bird, and collapsed over my bed. She whispered through her tears, “Yozo, you’ll help me, I know. I know you will. Let’s run away from this terrible house together. Oh, help me, please.” She continued in this hysterical vein for a while only to burst into tears again. This was not the first time that a woman had put on such a scene before me, and Sister’s excessively emotional words did not surprise me much. I felt instead a certain boredom at their banality and emptiness. I slipped out of bed, went to my desk and picked up a persimmon. I peeled it and offered my Sister a section. She ate it, still sobbing, and said, “Have you any interesting books? Lend me something.” I chose Soseki’s I am a Cat from my bookshelf and handed it to her. “Thanks for the persimmon,” Sister said as she left the room, an embarrassed smile on her face…”

At this moment, Dazai/Yozo provides an accidentally hilarious moment through his lack of empathy. Even though Yozo faces similar despair, he is unable to connect sadness to the sadness of others. After several trials of this sort of situation where a girl comes to him crying for support (which despite his wishes is a recurring theme in his life), he has figured out a simple, effective solution—distract them with sweets, books, anything at hand, even a suicide pact.

Of course, this isn’t the correct “answer” to these situations. He could have just… talked to her! But this is impossible for Yozo because claims to be completely disconnected from her. And he’s too terrified to try to reach out. He imagines that all other people have a monster behind their mask, ready to attack him at will.

The entire book is like this, a person who doesn’t know how to interact with other people because he is actually terrified of everyone around him, which is all rooted in his feeling of spiritual isolation. The title is a direct statement of the narrator’s feeling towards the world around him—as someone who is just faking being human, what point did he have in existing when he has to live in fear of everyone around him, who is ostensibly better at this being “human” thing than him?

American Psycho was this to me, an attempt by another alien (Patrick Bateman) to decipher exactly what the hell is happening in 80’s yuppie corporate NYC. Or as he aptly puts it:

EVELYN Well, you hate that job anyway. Why don't you just quit? You don't have to work. BATEMAN Because I...want...to...fit...in. I think he wants to fit in!

Patrick Bateman has decided, unlike Yozo, that he will fit in. He—at least, consciously—believes that he is stronger than everyone around him. Christian Bale does an awesome job monologuing with the emphasis on monotone, dry, and powerful from his ability to seemingly separate himself from the riff-raff around him. This might be why a lot of men (from what I have heard, no citation given in this article) take from this movie that this is the way of a “sigma” male, one who is different from the rest of the pack.

(This is where I would submit my sigma male test score but I couldn’t find the screenshot.)

fear and anxiety

Because of all the (wrong) takes on American Psycho being anti-feminist because of its violence against women, or the idolization of Patrick Bateman because he can cull his competition, you would think Patrick is good at killing people. This is not true in the movie. Patrick Bateman is actually very, very bad at killing people. When he kills Paul Allen, he becomes a total wreck, running through his apartment to come up with some sort of alibi, slamming open closets and desperately packing together a cute little travel set. Not that I would know how to commit a murder, but you would think for someone who considers himself to be in control Patrick would have a better idea on how to proceed with this kind of thing. His answers to Detective Donald Kimball’s questions range from guilty to insane. When Detective Kimball asks him if he knew Paul Allen was missing, Patrick jumps to asking him if the “homicide squad” is deployed on the case.

He even panics out of a murder when Luis Carruthers hits on him because it’s so unexpected, ending with Patrick desperately looking for any reason to just leave (“I’ve gotta… I’ve gotta… return some videotapes.”—as a bonus, he uses this SEVERAL times in the movie to leave uncomfortable situations). He then washes his gloved hands in the bathroom in an attempt to try to return to a “normal” interaction. It’s not pride and power pushing him forward. It’s anxiety!

Like Yozo, Patrick is also afraid. When he lies to Jean that he got a reservation for two at Dorsia (his trigger word apparently), he decides that the only course of action is to kill Jean before they make it to the restaurant. To directly discuss the traditional idea of toxic masculinity (as referenced by the men who want to be Patrick), theory would say that Patrick kills to gain power over women or to flex his masculinity. But his pride isn’t on the line when he tells Jean that he got a reservation to Dorsia. And he’s not trying to be powerful and masculine when he decides that killing Jean is the only solution. His decision is a panicked answer to stay disconnected from Jean at any cost.

Just as Yozo accepts a suicide pact from a woman because he doesn’t know how else to comfort her while avoiding connection to her, Patrick decides with how smoothly he handled Paul Owen’s murder that staging another murder is a get-out-of-jail-free card from the impending doom of having to admit that he actually can’t get a reservation for Dorsia.

And his Dorsia fear manifests in reality as a personal hell when the maître d’ hysterically laughs at him, screeching, when he first calls for a reservation that night at 8:30 for a date with Courtney. The second time he calls he gets a normal response, with the maître d’ telling him that the restaurant is completely booked for the night. But Patrick’s fear response is already baked in from the first interaction he created with his own anxiety.

societal normalcy and self-acceptance

There’s something deeply relatable to the need to try to figure out what is “normal.” Especially, the further you might naturally be from “societal normal,” the harder it is to try to figure out how to get there. At this point, the proverb “be true to yourself” might seem to come into play. But our urge to be normal is because we want to connect to others. We want to not be alone, even if that’s at the cost of suppressing our true selves.

Patrick manages to fit in at the boy’s club at work by performing all of the gestures of the others, at lunch, at Christmas parties. But his true self is completely isolated from his coworkers. He’s someone who is unrecognized as his own person to the point that people mistake his identity for others in the group. His fiance knows nothing about him and doesn’t care to, even when Patrick is trying to tell her that he has homicidal urges. The only reason she’s even getting married to him is because they have the same friends and breaking up “wouldn’t work.” Even Carruthers only hits on him because of the clothing he wears.

But even when you fit in, you want people to understand you. So Patrick tries to connect with people over and over again. But when he does try, it’s unreciprocated. The only time he can talk about his interest in pop music is with prostitutes he hires for sex—almost as if the sex is just an excuse (which might be why his violence is also focused on them). His jokes constantly fall flat with his peers. His joke about Ed Gein sticking women’s heads on sticks could be inappropriate (and is given the rest of the context of Patrick’s personality), but it’s a very vulnerable moment for Patrick. He is purposefully revealing part of who he is and receives worse than a bad reaction—no reaction. When your friends rebuke you, it’s a decision to reach out and connect out of care. No reaction is the choice to pull away.

And when he finally does meet someone who is genuinely interested in him as who he is and is willing to reach out to him, he is unable to complete the connection. Jean is the only woman in the movie who isn’t willing to mask to just “fit in.” When Patrick takes her out and talks to her in his condo, we can immediately get a sense of who she is because she’s telling the truth. But Patrick takes this vulnerability and tries to push it away from him—thus the attempt to kill her with a nail gun—and fails as his own vulnerability (he’s cheating on his fiancee) is revealed via inopportune phone call (from said fiancee).

Silence. Jean is obviously embarrassed and upset. JEAN Was that...Evelyn? Silence. JEAN Are you still seeing her? Silence. JEAN I'm sorry, I have no right to ask that. Silence. JEAN Do you want me to go? A long pause. BATEMAN Yes. I don’t think I can...control myself. JEAN I know I should go. I know I have a tendency to get involved with unavailable men, and...I mean, do you want me to go? Another long pause. BATEMAN If you stay, I think something bad will happen. I think I might hurt you. (Almost hopefully) You don't want to get hurt, do you? JEAN No. No, I guess not. I don't want to get bruised. You're right, I should go.

And at the end of the movie, Jean is the only one who is able to find Patrick’s “true nature” because she is worried about him after he calls her. Patrick doesn’t reveal who he is to her. She’s the one who searches his desk and finds the drawings he has made of his compulsions, of his real or imagined crimes against humanity.

violence

After violence, Patrick responds with desperation and panic. We even see this in Paul Allen’s murder, the one murder Patrick seemed to really enjoy, where Patrick scrambles to come up with something so that he avoids getting caught. Patrick claims to have killed Christie only because “she almost got away.” In the final chase scene, the consequences come for him at an amazing tempo; police cars surround him after the sound of the first shot dissipates into the air, he escapes but is surrounded again and forced into a shoot-off, then is chased down by helicopters.

But that’s ridiculous—it’s totally fantastical. Because these scenes are in Patrick’s view of reality, it suggests that he wants to get caught. Patrick wants to be held accountable because it’s the only way he could imagine others understanding the immense amount of pain he’s in.

Part of our connection to people who really like us for who we are is that they can help us understand when we feel off. We want our pain to be vindicated as something that’s not okay. In times of desperation, we want to be able to reach out to others and hear sympathy, or reassurance that we are right to feel that something is wrong and that we should go get it checked out.

Patrick describes his need to hurt other people as a consequence of being in pain in the first place at the end of the movie. It’s a call for help for someone to notice and get him arrested so he can get fixed. But Patrick is completely alienated. Beyond Jean, nobody else cares about him to bother being concerned. When he tells a woman that he’s into “murders and executions,” she mishears it as “mergers and acquisitions” due to the level of attention she’s giving that conversation. When he leaves a long, rambling confession of all of his murders to his lawyer, his lawyer first mistakes him for someone else, and then laughs it off as a silly joke. Even as Patrick tries to double down and tell him that he was telling the truth, his lawyer takes the reality of the situation (that Patrick is at least delusional, since Paul Allen is alive and kicking) and decides to tell Patrick off for taking the joke “too far.”

In Patrick’s last monologue after his conversation with his lawyer, he “surpasses” having anything in common with the least sympathizable people.

BATEMAN (V.O.) There are no more barriers to cross. All I have in common with the uncontrollable and the insane, the vicious and the evil, all the mayhem I have caused and my utter indifference toward it, I have now surpassed... INT. BATEMAN'S OFFICE - DAY Jean is alone in Bateman's office, looking through his diary. We see the pages that she is looking at. They are filled with doodles of mutilated women and their names...Jean looks lost and frightened, and begins to cry. BATEMAN (V.O.) My pain is constant and sharp and I do not hope for a better world for anyone. I fact I want my pain to be inflicted on others. I want no escape. INT. HARRY'S BAR - EARLY EVENING As the film ends the camera moves CLOSE on Bateman. He is leaning back in his leather armchair, drinking a double Scotch, his eyes blank. BATEMAN (V.O.) But even after admitting this, there is no catharsis. I gain no deeper knowledge about myself, no new knowledge can be extracted from my telling. There has been no reason for me to tell you any of this. This confession has meant nothing...

He knows that losing his connection with even the most insane people will mean his internal pain will find no catharsis. Nobody can reach him and soothe his pain. So he inflicts his pain on others, even though it doesn’t help his pain, because it’s better than not doing anything. All he has left are the drawings that Jean has discovered, his last call for help.

Pain will always exist. But connection makes us understand that our pain is human, even our pain seems to come out of us in terrifying ways. In this way, Mary Harron has created a feminist movie by simply letting guys have emotions. The consequence of allowing men to have feelings is that they want to find other people who truly understand them. Patrick and his coworkers simply “fit in” but they don’t belong to each other, to anything at all beyond a sheer facade, a mask that can be put on and peeled off at the end of each day.

Then maybe we can rework toxic masculinity from being a way to have power in social situations to wanting to just “fit in” as a way to get some sort of connection to others, even if the people you hang out with don’t really understand you. But the consequence of this is that these shallow connections don’t fulfill us, and when we undergo pain, it becomes easier to take it out on these people that you don’t even like anyway, or people who aren’t even in your ingroup. When men see Patrick Bateman as a sigma male, is it that they see someone in control? Or is it that they see someone who shows a way to cope with the pain they feel, even if the method is violent and doesn’t even work, but at least it seems cathartic on the movie screen?

#american psycho #movie review #no longer human

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reviewsthatburn · 2 years

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As the sixteenth book in a long-running series, BE THE SERPENT represents a new status quo. The change from Simon as a villain to someone in the process of healing was teased in NIGHT AND SILENCE, established in A KILLING FROST, doubled down upon in various short stories, and confirmed in WHEN SORROWS COME during Toby's wedding. This span also is responsible for Rayseline Torquill's current condition and the request which kicks off BE THE SERPENT. Her elf-shot slumber and former misdeeds need to be addressed in a way that leaves her room to get better now that her blood is no longer fighting within her. Once that's addressed, there's a new storyline which, while some aspects of it were teased in the previous several books, has its inciting incident within these pages. The main storyline features several things which are introduced and resolved, plus a very stressful cliffhanger and final pages which promise a very interesting start to the next book. This is definitely not the end of the series, and it explicitly leaves several things (beyond the cliffhanger) which future books will need to address.

Full review at link.

#be the serpent #seanan mcguire #october daye #october daye series #BookReviews #Fantasy #Highly Recommended #toby daye #october daye spoilers

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unproduciblesmackdown · 2 years

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fr brian is so funny for his whole deal being like remarkable nervousness & that he ends up dragged along with the two jokes pranks horror drama menaces that are brooke & zeke who are ricocheting around while brian is head in hands bringing the “pleeease let this be a normal field trip.” and of course shoutout to how every character has their own unbroken chaos going on, brooke & zeke especially, not only their Both pulling antics & liking to joke around & indulge in horror but like, that they do also have this constant siblingesque tendency in their dynamic to like on a dime go into [throwing a notebook at the other’s head flipping them off kicking biting] teasing to exasperated mode for a whole ten seconds before then both immediately being back on task, regular mode, like And Anyways. & brian naturally does not jump right into this sort of rapport, but shoutout to his like natural beleagueredness allowing him to still occupy a niche here & be outright going Oh No with brooke about zeke Getting A Zeke Idea. everyone’s trading off in being the most elevated person in any given moment is fun, this is just How It Is, and i really enjoy again how scenes operate where like, again, everyone has their own thread of chaos consistently winding (or unraveling. whichever you want) and the way the writing jumps between these simultaneous & overlapping goings on and the characters naturally do as well is lively & humorous. i also love this scene where brooke & zeke are both ruminating hard but somewhat separately despite having an exchange, while brian enters just fully preoccupied with the trial of having paint on himself & his just openly inserting himself into this exchange by being like do you think it’s permanent :( and that despite zeke likewise being so preoccupied as to miss an entire remark of brooke’s or else simply fail to give any response indicating otherwise, he happens to immediately reply to brian’s paint tragedy on its terms. that tina then comes by and has half her understudy buddy moment (she also actually calls brooke in another scene) with some pointed critical remarks towards brooke, only for brian to Also just totally in stride ask her about the paint, to which she also gives a seemingly earnest & matter of fact response about it lmao. and brian just being so absolutely beset by things like getting paint on himself, and the way the books are written with the vivacious characters & inherent comedic type framework alongside the horror and the humorous voice of the actual author coming through in addition to the pov narration involving bonus funny asides about everything all really gets me, and brian being a ghost also and knowing it and being so down to earth like, this play sabotage mystery is also entirely relevant to him, all the more so as the person who exists for this role very literally, and he’s just totally consumed by being bothered by getting paint on himself and worrying about it. it keeps Especially making me laugh like getting a bit teared up about it, but i think the entire book is Like That in both the very dry inherent humor and how these tiny moments of idiosyncratic flair that Could be stripped out are not, and there’s all these little momentary two line aside exchanges or internal remarks that add some damn texture and give everyone both more Character and Presence and sort of unfiltered “i’m like eleven”ness than if everyone was always sitting quietly while the Important part of a scene unfolds uninterrupted, but instead everyone can both be very absorbed with different things while also being able to spontaneously bounce off of someone else’s preoccupation for a moment. and things are just fun and funny. and i suspect that say, having been a theatre & horror appreciating oft intensely preoccupied but also bound to spontaneously ricochet off of goings on kid, i enjoy everyone bringing that energy here lmao. but i also enjoyed goosebumps books as a kid & i had a whole kick out of reading this one now, in a straightforward way even though i hardly could have the straightforward [i’m reading this as an elementary schooler] style of experience. you go r.l. stine. i could not give a single direct quote from the “the ghost next door” book but i’m already humored by the entire back and forth that is the narrator again befriending this new guy but she suspects something’s up with him such as that he might be the ghost next door, while he keeps being all the more suspicious in turn when she’s most suspicious, just this back and forth of it. and it’s again all the funnier that in fact the narrator is the ghost, unknowingly this time. and there’s also like this shadow self who keeps lurking ominously & perhaps tries to kill the friend to take his place in the living world or something and i remember that in fact coming across as ominous and intense when eleven. but it’s also intense anyways b/c our narrator unknownst to herself and thus us did in fact die partway through. like, brian only tried to take someone’s place in a living world theatrical production, at least, however he has to keep falling to his doom, sorry man. he’s fine though i guess. and in the meantime he was like oh my godddd paint on my clothes oh my god why do i let you two drag me into scary situations i don’t like horror we’re gonna get in trouble stop talking about ghosts aaaagh. and then he gamely goes along anyways despite needing to complain, thank you hero. bolstering everyone else’s nerves b/c they’re trying to cheer you up

#goosebumps the musical #goosebumps the actual book though but i never read this one as a kid #the odd experience again of like #idk maybe at first had parents disapproving of Horror For Kids. for some reason i assumed i wasn't Allowed to check them out via library too #but then at some point we just owned a bunch ig acquired handily from somewhere. still don't remember getting any from the library but mayve #that's may have. i ran out of room....never read them comprehensively hence never having read this one. didn't see the show ever either #and i sure recall them to varying degrees....like sure i stared at the cover for that one book but did i ever actually read it? it's a Maybe

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auseryoumayknow · 7 months

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These Two Windows!!!

Alamo!

YEEAAAAHH 🤘🤘🤘🤘🤘🤘🤘 OMG HIS VOICE IS JUST WOW AND LIKE AAAAAAA DUDE LIKE WHOS BEEN GATEKEEPING THIS FROM ME

AND THE TALKING? LIKE OMG THE WAY HE JUST “let me out so I can just live my life” 🫢 MIC. FUCKING. DROP.

2. “The book of you and I”

“Well it all began in the back of her car” - 👴🏻

I’m joking, it’s definitely a chill song. I’m def not in the mood for that type of music rn XD. The chorus really hit.

3. “Oh My God”

one of my favourites!!!!!! Literally I relate so much to this song

4. “Mind is a prison”

fucking LOVE this song bro

I I I I I I I I

Me fr

5. “Must have been the wind”

this one tho!!!! Cuz like it brings such a powerful message and such visuals

also am I the only one who thought it was “with my boombox on the roof”

it’s “aim my boombox at the roof”

I’ve been lied to?????

ur always welcome to come in :)

6. “I’m not a cynic”

damn. That’s all I have to say.

7. “Demons”

this song is literally my favourite song at the moment. If you haven’t listened to it you should. The lyrics are meaningful, the melody is for any time of day. Blastin it in my car whenever I get my license

8. “Just like you”

definitely not one of my favourites melodywise but it’s still really good and honestly there’s some lessons in the lyrics, and it’s interesting

9. “Jesus in LA”

I love this one /srs

I’m not even Christian but it’s a banger 🤘

10. “Match in the rain”

if Apple Music has a music vid on it, you know it’s good.

it is good. Like, I can see myself sitting on a windowsill while it rains and just sitting here listening to it :)

that was my review of These Two Windows 😌 I’ll get to Narrated For You as soon as I can :) could be tomorrow, could be next week XD

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daisywords · 11 months

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Mike Flanagan series rankings (now that I've just finished Midnight Mass and can compare)

Haunting of Hill House: 6/10. Fun. A little disjointed. Some good scares and interesting techniques. Whole less than the sum of its parts. Some impressively well-crafted moments and concepts individually. Points off for being an "adaptation" of a book that's good in its own right but has completely different themes and narrative like just file off the rest of the serial numbers fr

Haunting of Bly Manor: 3/10. It was bad, y'all. Had some good elements but boy did every episode get progressively worse. I really liked some of the characters so I did finish it, but getting through the ghost's backstory episode was a particular slog. The sheer amount of narration and overexplaining. Has anyone told Mike that ghost stories need a little bit of subtlety? By the end of it all of the mystery and Romanticism were wiped out by the way-too-literal possession mechanics and it the ending was just forced I'm sorry. Very disappointing overall, since the beginning did hook me, and there was some really promising stuff that the overall series didn't do justice to.

Midnight Mass: 8/10. It was pretty good! Felt more cohesive than the others. The narrative played out in some really interesting ways that felt true to the characters and themes, and it kept me on my toes even though I'd already heard some spoilers. Points off for the unsubtlety again. Like it was good but it would have been better with a little less of characters monologuing at the camera and shoving their exact motivations down my throat. Some of the characters were really well done and others were underdeveloped imo (Riley's family, for example). A fun and compelling watch overall.

#mike flanagan #midnight mass #ik there are some people who really liked Bly Manor so sorry 😬 literally I see why like I get it #but ughhhhhhh it's worse because I see within it a show that could have been good #What I do really like is the genre blend of these series #Like give me some scares but secondarily to the drama and characters yk?

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theteasetwrites · 3 years

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The Beginning Is the End Is the Beginning

Chapter 24: The Killing Moon

❧ Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader ❧ Era: Season 4 ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: sexual assault/attempted rape, scary situation, mild swearing, violence, typical TWD ❧ Word Count: 4.7k

❧ In This Chapter: You find yourself conflicted with the presence of Jerome as he continues to bother you. Daryl takes matters into his own hands when Jerome's obsession with you becomes too much to handle. With tensions running high, you come face to face with the worst thing imaginable.

❧ A/N: All right, this chapter comes with a huge trigger warning. Our dear Reader goes through some terrible stuff, and it can be hard to read, so brace yourself. Don't worry, though; Reader is okay by the end but there's a series of events that definitely affects her. (Also, the title is in reference to a famous Echo & the Bunnymen song that I thought kind of fit the theme.)

“So, presently, when the knight came riding slowly along,” you recited in your best narrator voice for the group of children sitting cross-legged in front of you, their sparkling eyes looking up at you with imagination running wild as you read to them, “jolly Robin stepped forward and laid his hand upon the bridle reign. ‘Hold, sir Knight,’ quoth he, ‘I prythee tarry for a short time, for I have a few words to say to thee.’” You lowered your voice a bit for Robin Hood’s voice, which the children always found amusing. “‘What are thou, friend, who doth stop a traveler in this manner upon his most gracious Majesty’s highway?’ said the Knight. ‘Marry,’ quoth Robin, ‘that is a question hard to answer. One man calleth me kind, another calleth me cruel; this one calleth me good honest fellow, and that one, vile thief. Truly, the world hath as many eyes to look upon a man as there are spots on a toad; so, with what pair of eyes thou regardest me lieth entirely with thine own self. My name is Robin Hood.’”

You paused for a moment, looking down at your watch and realizing story time went by faster than you’d expected. You placed the bookmark and then closed the book, to which you heard a slew of jeers from the crowd.

“Hey,” you said, “we’ll pick it up again tomorrow!”

“But I wanna know what happens to Robin,” said Mica.

“Robin saves the day like he always does. Now go do your chores.” You watched as the children poured out of the library to meet with Carol, who was scheduled to take the kids back to the kitchen and have them help prepare dinner.

“You all start heading there,” she said to them. “I’ve got to talk to Mrs. Dixon.” She smirked at you.

You rolled your eyes as you cleaned up after the kids. They’d had craft hour before story time, and it always left quite a mess. “Ha, ha, very funny.”

Carol bent over to help you clean up, gathering dirty brushes and piling them up in their bucket for washing later. “No wonder they’re all calling Daryl Robin Hood,” she said.

You laughed. “Yeah, they’re painting him, too.” You held up a crude painting of a green stick figure holding a crossbow and wearing a pointy hat with a motorcycle in the background, some kind of charming amalgamation of Daryl and Robin.

Carol took the painting from you and smiled. “That’s adorable. Have you shown it to him?”

“Not yet,” you said. “Luke painted it and he said he wants it hung up on the wall so I’ll probably do that. I’m sure Daryl will see it.”

She handed the painting back to you and you set it down carefully on your desk. “I really love these kids,” you said. “They’re surprisingly well-adjusted given the things they’ve gone through. I don’t know if I could have handled it so well.”

“They love you, too. Especially Patrick.”

You looked up at her and laughed. “Oh God, don’t remind me. He goes to every story time, and he’s always the oldest one.”

She laughed at the thought of the fourteen year old listening to you read children’s books to him. Then, she fell serious. “Listen,” she said, “I came in here because Jerome keeps asking about you, wondering where you are and what you’re doing.”

You frowned. “I know.”

It had been a week since Rick brought Jerome to the prison, and he was turning out to be more trouble than he was worth. Sure, he was a doctor and that was very helpful in the world you lived in, but he seemed to have some kind of obsession with you.

Rick had fulfilled his promise of making sure the two of you weren’t paired up for anything, but he always found a way to be near you when you weren’t in your cell. He was even seen once in your cell block, but Daryl stopped that pretty much as soon as it started, shoving him up against a wall and yelling in his face with the threat of shoving an arrow down his throat. Needless to say, he got the picture.

But that didn’t stop him from following you at a distance or asking around to find out where you were so he could keep an eye on you for when you would be alone. It worried you, and Daryl had to start hanging around you constantly as the only way to deter him from coming up to you, and then there was Rick always asking if you wanted him to kick him out. It was simply too much male attention.

You really did want Jerome gone, but you also thought it was just a phase, that he’d get over it and leave you alone. Maybe it was just you trying to avoid the guilt of sending him out into the world alone with no chance of survival, and maybe that guilt was residual from your less than healthy relationship with him, but it still seemed wrong.

He hadn’t really done anything other than follow you and creep you out a little, so you were sure you could handle it.

“I don’t like him, (Y/N),” she said. “He’s obsessed with you. I think you should take up Rick’s offer and kick him out.”

You sighed. “I don’t know, I don’t think it would be right.”

“If you don’t have Rick kick him out, Daryl will kill him,” she told you matter-of-factly. “Either way, he’ll die.”

You rubbed your forehead with your hand. “I don’t know, Carol. He’s a doctor, we need as many of those we can get. If he gets kicked out because of me, I’ll feel like it’s my fault.”

“No,” she said, “it would be his own fault for stalking you.”

You scoffed. “Stalking me?”

She nodded. “I’m just calling it what it is. But it’s your decision, not mine. Just… keep your knife on you.”

You had been keeping it on you. You always did. You found yourself reaching for it a lot more often since Jerome arrived, though.

That evening at dinner, Jerome’s eyes were particularly focused on you. He never sat at the same table as you and Daryl, but he was always somewhere not too far away, watching you. Tonight, his look was even more intense.

You were sitting with Daryl, Rick, Carl, and an older couple from Woodbury in the outdoor dining area where Carol was cooking up some sort of stew.

“God, this is good,” Rick said, nodding his head as he looked down at his bowl before taking another spoonful.

“Carol won’t tell anyone her recipe,” you said. “I’ve been trying to get her to spill but she says it’s a secret. At least I know there’s venison in it, right?” You turned to Daryl so he could confirm your guess, but his narrowed gaze was fixated on Jerome from across the way. You followed his gaze, and saw Jerome trying to look away to seem as if he wasn’t looking at you. “Daryl?” You touched his arm.

He grunted at you, not averting his gaze.

“Somethin’ wrong, Daryl?” Rick asked.

Daryl looked to you, then to Rick. “Nah.” He shook his head. He turned his attention back to Jerome, who was retreating back into the prison. “I’ll be right back.” He got up to leave, but you grabbed his hand.

“What are you doing?” you asked sternly.

“Takin’ care of somethin’,” he replied.

You were about to get up to stop him as he started following Jerome, but Rick grabbed your hand this time. “(Y/N),” he said, “let it happen.”

The cool light from the full moon shone down through the barred windows of the empty Cell Block D. Jerome’s lightweight footsteps echoed throughout the corridor, moving faster and faster as he swore he felt a heavy presence from somewhere behind him. When he got into his cell, he quickly turned around to latch the door shut, but a large-framed figure aggressively pulled the door away from his grasp.

He quickly shoved Jerome against the cold brick wall of his cell and held him up by fistfuls of his shirt. It was dark but the moonlight illuminated just enough of Daryl’s eyes, narrowed with bloodlust, and his flared nostrils and tight lip. The veins in his forehead bulged and pumped with such fury he hadn’t felt in ages.

“Told ya twice,” he growled, pulling Jerome slightly away from the wall for a moment then pushing him back into it with all his might. “Three strikes, you’re out, dickhead.”

He threw the slender man down to the concrete floor, causing an echo of the thud to reverberate throughout the Cell Block. He groaned in pain as he tried to stand himself up.

“Nah, you’re stayin’,” he huffed, kicking his shoulder with his steel-toed boots to send him back down, then keeping his foot there as he towered over him. “Listen ta me, you Ivy League prick—you keep your wandering eyes off my woman. She ain’t yours, she’s mine, and she’s made it clear she doesn’t want anything to do with you, but you just keep botherin’ her.” He lowered his foot even more until he heard the slightest hint of a crack in the man’s shoulder. He cried out in pain, but it didn’t stop him.

“Please!” Jerome cried.

Daryl removed his foot then picked him up again by the shirt to sock him across the face a few times. “You gonna leave my woman alone, asshole?!”

“Yes,” he whimpered.

Daryl shook his head as he watched the pathetic man writhe in pain on the floor. “I oughtta kill you for the way you treated her, for the way you won’t leave her be.” He thought for a moment, looking down at the bloodied face of a man who was the epitome of success back in the old world, but now so pitiful and weak. “Only reason you’re still breathin’ is ‘cause of her. She means more to me than puttin’ you out of your misery.”

You didn’t want Daryl to kill Jerome. He already had too much blood on his hands from Woodbury, and you didn’t want him to kill because of you unless you felt it was absolutely necessary. So far, Jerome hadn’t done much except creep you out, but that was enough for Daryl to kill him. Still, he was, as his brother would’ve said “whipped.” He didn’t like to think of it that way, but if you told him to jump off a cliff, it would take him longer than he’d like to admit to think about doing it.

Jerome rolled around, coughing up blood from his beating. Daryl leaned back down and grabbed him to look him in the eyes one more time. “This is your last warning. I catch you so much as standin’ in the same room as her, I’ll beat ya to death.”

He returned to your shared cell immediately after to clean up some of the blood he’d gotten on himself from beating Jerome. It wasn’t much, just a few splashes across his face and neck, but he didn’t want you suspecting anything.

When he heard the squeaking of the cell door, he knew it was you. You had a distinct way of opening the gate with the utmost care and softness. He’d memorized your pattern of slowly unlatching it and pushing it open as quietly as possible so as to not wake the “neighbors,” as you called them.

This time, though, it was pushed open faster with a sense of urgency.

“Daryl,” you said to him, softly but sternly, “what did you do?”

He was still turned away from you, trying to get the last bits of blood off him. He missed a few spots. Turning around, your eyes immediately narrowed to the now dried splotches of blood on his tanned skin.

“Did you… did you kill him?” you asked quietly, not able to look him in the eye.

He stepped closer to you tentatively. “No,” he said. “Roughed him up a bit, though.”

You sighed and ran your fingers through your hair, then started pacing as much as you could in such a small space. “This isn’t going to work, him being here. I wanted to believe it could, but I hate him. I want him gone.”

Daryl nodded, a little surprised you were admitting to it. He knew you hated him and wanted him gone, but he also knew your tendency to want to see the good in people and give them a chance. He was much less tolerant, but he understood.

“I’ll get rid of him, (Y/N). I will.” He closed the gap between your two bodies and pulled you into his arms, kissing your hair as he swayed you back and forth. “Just say the word.”

You breathed deeply into his chest. “I’ll talk to Rick, see what he thinks. I just… I don’t want to rid the group of a doctor. We might need him.”

“Don’t matter to me, that prick has got somethin’ in his eyes when he looks at you. I don’t like it one bit.”

You pulled away. “What do you mean?”

Daryl looked down at the ground and chewed his bottom lip. “I don’t even wanna say it, bad enough to think about it.”

You tilted your head, realizing what he meant. “Jerome’s not a rapist,” you said. Daryl flinched at the word coming out of your mouth. Even materializing the very possibility was enough to send him into a blind fit of rage. “At least, I don’t think he is.” It occurred to you just how much he had changed in the last three years. You didn’t know him, really. You were sure you never really did. He was so artificial with you, and he lied so much you couldn’t tell what was the truth anymore.

“Don’ wanna keep him around long enough to find out,” said Daryl. “We’ll talk to Rick tomorrow. He’ll understand, he’s gotta.”

That night, you were restless. Daryl had Glenn cover his watch shift to be with you. You seemed particularly disturbed when he came back from beating Jerome, although you had been acting on edge since he arrived. Still, he thought it best to stay with you.

You were glad. Secretly, you were frightened that Jerome would come into your cell again when you were alone one night, and coupled with Daryl’s mention of his fear that he would try to rape you, you were utterly terrified.

Although Daryl held you tightly in his arms as he usually did, you couldn’t stop tossing and turning. At one point you’d escaped from his grasp, and even being free of Daryl’s somewhat suffocating caress, you found yourself unable to breathe.

It came on you fast and sudden, the shortness of breath becoming more and more oppressive as you felt like the walls of the small cell were caving in on you. Your head was spinning and your heart pounding. You sat up in bed to calm yourself, but it only made you more frantic. As quietly as possible, you made your way out of the cell, being sure to take your knife with you. You needed some fresh air, and the same old stale oxygen circulating through Cell Block C wasn’t cutting it.

Luckily, you were quiet enough not to wake Daryl. He was a light sleeper, on account of having to watch his own back for most of his life, but you could tell from his soft snores that he was deep in sleep, and you had become an expert at not waking him on the rare occasions you got up before him.

You were sure he’d put you through the wringer if he knew you were going out in the wee hours of the morning just to get some fresh air, especially with your stalker living under the same roof, but you were also sure you’d suffocate if you stayed in that cell any longer.

Passing by a few early risers in the common area, you opened the door and let yourself out, immediately feeling the cool morning air flow through you. You walked around the courtyard for a while, hugging yourself as the wind penetrated your skin through the light, airy cotton of your nightgown and the flimsy knit sweater you threw on.

Goosebumps popped up gradually, causing every exposed hair on your arms to stand on end. You were cold, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable cold. It was more like a renewing cold, one that could chill a flower, but not freeze it.

The sun wasn’t going to peak up over the horizon for at least a few more hours, but you were content with the moon. You always preferred it, anyway. You could look at its beauty without going blind, and that was special to you.

As you admired the moon in all its glory, you felt a presence looming behind you. It was unwelcome and cold, distinctly different from the refreshing and beautiful coolness that hit your skin from the natural winds. No, this was a threatening cold, a terrible chill.

You slowly reached for the knife you were keeping in the pocket of your sweater before turning around to see Jerome lunging at you with a face of desperation and malice unlike any you’d ever seen.

Before you could even react, you were knocked to the ground and pinned underneath him. “Get off me!” you cried.

“Shut up,” he said sternly, your knife making a clattering sound as he threw it aside somewhere on the concrete. “This’ll go faster if you don’t struggle.”

Your eyes widened as you continued squirming underneath the strong grip he had on your wrists, keeping you pinned down. The rest of his weight was on his legs, which weighed down on yours. He was a slim, lean man, but he was tall and muscular, and his dead weight on your body was harder to maneuver under than it looked.

He clasped your wrists together above your head with one hand while you felt the other reach down between your legs and begin to hike up your nightgown. “No!” you cried in horror. “No, stop it! Stop!”

He looked down briefly as he aggressively pulled down your underwear, then started unzipping his pants. Your legs were trying as hard as possible to kick him off of you, but they could only squirm underneath the weight of him.

“Stop squirming,” he demanded. “It’ll be over soon, just let me do it.”

You looked around wild-eyed, trying to locate your knife. Once again, it had been loosened from your grip, but this time was the most scared you’d been. It wasn’t a walker trying to take a bite out of you, it was a living, breathing man trying to hurt you in the worst way you could imagine. It was worse than any nightmare you could even dream up. It was real, and it was looking you right in the eyes with its bruised and deranged face contorted with sickening intention.

You felt his cold, slim fingers grazing against the inside of your thighs as he tried to spread your legs a bit, but they only squeezed together tighter. “Damnit, (Y/N)!”

You faced him again to spit at him, sending a glob of saliva up into his eye. He instinctively lifted the hand he was holding your arms down with to rub at his eye. Before he could realize what he’d done, you socked him in the face with every ounce of strength in you, then loosened your leg enough to knee him in the groin. That weakened him enough to push him off you.

Lunging towards your knife, you picked it up before turning around swiftly to see that Jerome was standing again, holding his own knife. You looked at each other briefly before he hurdled towards you, aiming his blade at your abdomen. He didn’t have any kind of desperation or twisted lust in his eyes now, it was just rage.

Before his knife could penetrate you, you slashed a long, dark slit into his forearm. He yelped in pain, but still kept driving his knife towards you. Slashing his upper arm, he finally dropped his knife. He was still standing, so you slashed him once more across the plain of his thigh.

Now he was writhing on the cold hard ground, and you loomed over him, looking down at what represented to you now the last remnant of a part of your life you wanted to forget. The part of your life where you subjected yourself to someone who didn’t love you nearly as much as he loved himself, someone who took advantage of your blind trust in him, someone who made a fool out of you… and after all that, came back from the dead to torment you and try to rip away any ounce of self-worth you’d regained since you left him.

Holding onto his forearm in an attempt to slow the bleeding, he looked up to you and pleaded. “Please, (Y/N). I really do love you.”

Your lips quivered, both in anger and in sadness. You knelt down beside him, then raised your knife with both hands as you aimed it at his heart. “No!” he cried. “Please!”

You moved your gaze back up to his face, unrecognizable now between Daryl’s beating and the fear that lingered there. It wasn’t an emotion you’d seen on him before. He was too proud to be afraid of anything.

“Goodbye, Jerome.” Your voice was shaky, but your intent was made of stone.

Plunging the knife into his heart, you watched his eyes widen, locked somewhere between pain and disbelief. Faster than you’d thought, the life left his gaze shortly thereafter. You wished it lasted longer, just to know he was in the most pain possible. Still, his last breath did hit your face like that cool, cleansing wind.

After that, it hit you what you had done.

Pulling the knife out, you crawled backwards away from the corpse. Your panting nearly drowned out the sound of Daryl’s voice calling to you from a distance, coming closer with each breath that scraped against your dry throat.

“(Y/N)!” he bellowed, running to you in only those black jeans with holes in the knees you’d been meaning to mend.

Sat frozen and staring at the lifeless body, you felt Daryl’s hands grip your arms as he turned you to face him. “You all right?” he asked desperately. “Heard ya screamin’.”

You just shook your head, your mouth agape and your eyes wide in disbelief. He raised a hand to touch your cheek, then looked down at the corpse, noticing the unzipped pants, and then your underwear laying not too far away. “What happened?”

You swallowed before mustering up a few words. “He—he… tried to… oh God.” You wrapped your arms around Daryl’s bare torso, then nuzzled your face into his shoulder, letting out a strangled sob.

He held you against him tightly. Neither of you even noticed the small crowd huddled around you.

Using his grip on your back to hoist you up, he began walking you back to your cell. Your feet felt faint but they managed to get there with the help of his arm. wrapped around your waist.

He laid you down slowly, sure to cover you up with all the blankets and leaving a kiss on your forehead.

“I killed him,” you said, your tears still staining your voice. “He’s dead.”

“You were defending yourself,” he replied. “If you hadn’t killed him he would’ve done somethin’ awful to ya.”

“I know,” you said quietly, beginning to feel yourself cry again. “I just… never thought I’d have to kill somebody. Much less, him.”

He laid himself down next to you. “No one ever thinks they’re gonna have to do it till they do.” He brushed a stray hair away from your face, then used his thumb to catch the tears streaming down your face. “You did what you had to. He ain’t gonna hurt ya now. Just wish I could’ve protected you better.”

“You can only protect me so much. I have to save myself sometimes.”

He nodded. “I know, guess I’m still tryin’ to accept it. Just feel like I should be the one to keep you safe, all the time.”

You were silent for a bit, trying to compose yourself and will the tears away. When you felt you’d shed all your tears, you spoke again. “I didn’t think he’d try to do that.”

Daryl pulled you into him tightly. “Ya couldn’t have known.”

“I could’ve,” you said. “The way he was bothering me, following me. I didn’t even tell you he came into our cell that first night when you were on watch. He didn’t try anything, but he creeped me out. I should have known.”

He swallowed hard, trying his best not to burst out in anger and kill a man who was already dead. “Don’t talk like that. There was no way for you to know what he’d try to do. It ain’t your fault.”

You swallowed. “I was so scared… that look in his eyes, the way he… held me down… it was horrible.”

Daryl stiffened more, squeezing you tighter against him. You snuggled further into his chest, not wanting him to ever let you go. “I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so sorry.” He felt like crying, too. The helplessness and rage and sorrow and regret within him was so overwhelming he did shed a few tears, but you couldn’t tell. “He can’t hurt you. You’re safe now. You killed him, he’s gone. You did the right thing.”

The two of you were silent for a while, except for the muffled bursts of sobs you let out every once in a while until you fell asleep in his arms as you usually did. This time, however, you felt the most vulnerable you ever could in his arms that always kept you so safe and warm. Though you knew he’d never, ever hurt you or treat you the way Jerome did, you couldn’t help but feel like a porcelain doll. The same doll that cut you when you were little, so fragile and broken.

Daryl knew you were asleep, but he couldn’t sleep at all. He stared up at the ceiling and thought of how frightened you must’ve been, and how he wasn’t there to help you. One thing he was struggling to come to terms with in your relationship was that he wouldn’t always be able to keep you safe, and that terrified him to his core. There wasn’t much Daryl was afraid of. He didn’t flinch at walkers, and he was mostly ambivalent towards hostiles, but the thought of anything happening to you… it chilled him to the bone.

He first felt it that night the quarry was attacked, and he never stopped feeling it since. The reality that he could lose you, it was his worst waking nightmare. These days, you were safe at the prison, but the Jerome situation reminded him that nowhere in this world was safe.

When the sun finally rose, Daryl rose, too, trying not to wake you. He dressed himself in his usual ripped jeans, sleeveless button-up shirt, angel-winged vest, and poncho before slinging his crossbow over his shoulder and heading out to hunt.

Upon waking, you were saddened to see that Daryl had left. You were used to waking up alone, but in your fragile state, you were even more disappointed at his absence.

When you rose, you noticed a small piece of paper lying on Daryl’s side of the bed. He never left you notes, he always assumed you knew where he was (which you did).

Yet here it was—a simple but comforting note left to grace your still waking eyes with his charming chicken scratch, noticeably absent of capitalization and punctuation

It read:

gone hunting be back soon love you angel - Daryl

Thanks for reading! Likes, reblogs, and comments of any kind are always appreciated!

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