#i did not say this good but hopefully you get my point

[janeyseymour]

Damsel in Distress

summary: every once in a while you need rescuing. melissa is usually there.

WC: ~2.4k

It’s a well known fact that Melissa Schemmenti is not the warmest and fuzziest soul that walks the Abbott halls- by both students and teachers alike. Of course, there were always people that she felt comfortable letting her guard down around, and each and every student would venture to say that while the redhead was quite the opposite of her counterpart, Janine Teagues, Melissa Schemmenti was fiercely loving and protective when push came to shove.

So when you start your career as a first grade teacher opposite Gregory Eddie, you’re warned right away of the rough and tough teacher.

“Melissa… she’s my girlfriend’s grade level partner,” Gregory informs you during the staff meeting that morning. “And she’s going to try to push you around. Don’t let her tough Philly streets kind of personality turn you off from her- she’s got a good heart.”

Your gaze follows his finger, where he’s pointing to his friends as they walk in. And because he’s in with them, they come and take a seat with you.

“Who’s the newbie?” Melissa immediately questions as she rolls her eyes. Oh, wow- her eyes sparkle despite the fact that she looks less than enthused to be here. “And how long is she going to be here before she runs outta here like everyone else?”

“Melissa,” Barbara, the kindergarten teacher Gregory had told you about, scolds as she gently smacks the redhead’s perfectly manicured nails. “Be nice. We need all the help we can get around here.”

“Y/N,” you smile charmingly. “And hopefully a long time.”

“What makes you say that?” the second grade teacher challenges as she sits across from you.

You shrug. “I grew up around here. I know how it goes.”

“You? You grew up around here?” Melissa challenges as she gets a look at your appearance. You’re dressed quite nicely. “How’d you make it out and do this well for yourself and then fall back to teaching?”

“I’ve actually been teaching for a few years,” you hum out. “Still live in South.”

“You from South?” You just nod before turning your attention to the meeting that seems to be beginning.

When you told the redhead that you were planning on staying at Abbott for a long time, you meant it. Working in a district and a school like this is where you’ve always done your best work. You’ve been around. Working in the suburbs of Philadelphia is an entirely different job. You’ve worked with rich kids, who you honestly had a hard time connecting with. You’ve worked with middle class kids who were somewhat grateful for the work that you did, but there was still an aura of entitlement that you just did not appreciate in the slightest. You’ve worked in districts similar to the greater Philadelphia area. But when push comes to shove, your heart belongs to the city of brotherly love, and you pounced at the opportunity to come back to the city.

In the time that you’ve been at Abbott, you’ve been able to do wonders for your students. Yes, Jacob and Janine bring wonderful new ideas to the somewhat stuck in the past school, but there’s something about you that just… makes it all work. The other difference between you and the other two younger teachers? You’re a bit more… realistic- jaded. You, unlike the other younger teachers- your grade level partner included, understand that some things simply don’t go according to plan. And when plans don’t pan out the way you quite hope or expect them to, you simply adapt with grace and elegance that doesn’t get past Barbara or Melissa. Even Ava, the principal who is known for her lack of attention, picks up on the fact that there’s something special about your teaching. 

And when Melissa Schemmenti realizes that you genuinely were planning on sticking around for a while and saw your work, she was on your side wholeheartedly.

While you’ve done amazing things for your students and been praised up and down by the district, there are still a few teachers who have somewhat of a gripe with you, claiming that you’re changing too much all at once for them to keep up with you. They state that you’re bringing in new methods that simply won’t work for their students- because why would you fix what isn’t broken? 

And that’s exactly what you’re speaking about during your share out time at the staff meeting today. You have quite a few visual learners in your class, as well as students who learn through experience.

“So, as Howard Gardner’s theory of multiple intelligences goes,” you say from your spot. “Everybody has different strengths in how they they learn.”

Gregory smiles. He had taught Janine physics in that way- that everyone plays to a different strength when it comes to learning and picking up new skills. 

“And I have quite a few visual learners, so as opposed to just lecturing, I’ve found that connecting it to real world situations that my first graders will understand and drawing it on the board will help. I’ve also come to realize that many of my students grasp ideas through the art of doing. So, for example, when we were learning about the phases of the moon, I found that a lot of my kiddos understood the cycle more clearly when we used an oreo to model it. In having a visual, auditory, and kinesthetic-”

“Now why are you trying to make us work harder?” one of the third grade teachers pipes up and interrupts you. “What I’ve been doing for a decade seems to still be working out for the most part.”

“Well,” you sigh as you bite your lip and glance to your group of friends. “The good thing about all of this is that most of us incorporate these different approaches without realizing it.”

“So then what’s the point of this share out, newbie?”

You go to respond when you feel a hand on your shoulder, and it isn’t Gregory’s or Jacob’s like you would expect. It’s not even Barbara. No, it’s Melissa.

“Why don’t you let her talk, Delores?” the gruff voice practically barks. “Just because we can sometimes inadvertently use these tactics doesn’t mean it’s not something we should draw attention to and try to do more consciously.”

“All I’m sayin is-”

“I don’t care what you’re saying,” Melissa growls. “Her lessons are a hell of a lot more effective than your boring ass lecturing, and maybe some of us would like to take a note or two about how we can improve our teaching.”

“Why are we trying to change the way we-”

“Did you ever realize that teaching is an ever-changing profession?” the redhead spits out. “That how we were taught doesn’t work anymore because there are always new practices and approaches coming out? Or did the nuns beat the sense out of you when you misbehaved in school?”

“Melissa,” you whisper and nudge her gently.

Green eyes turn to you. “Keep talkin’.”

Nobody dares to cross you again when it comes to your share outs during staff meetings again.

It’s later at lunch that you approach the topic of what happened in the library earlier today.

“Thank you for standing up for me,” you smile at Melissa while your lunch is in the microwave. “I really appreciate it.”

“It was nothin’,” the second grade teacher tells you with a wave of the hand. “I’ve been wanting that ol’ bat to retire for ages now, and I think she might now that she’s realizing she can’t keep up with the way the education world is going.”

It’s a few weeks later when Melissa Schemmenti stands up for you again- on a matter that you really expected her to be opposed on.

This morning, you had woken up a bit late, so instead of your usual sandwich and salad for lunch, you’re stuck with a bag of chips, a handful of grape tomatoes, and a stick of string cheese.

And while you’re eating quietly, Janine is making a fuss over it.

“Melissa, get on her!” the shorter second grade teacher huffs. “She’s eating what I eat!”

The redhead glances over at your rather unconventional meal and sighs. “That’s your lunch?” You just nod, preparing yourself to be berated by Melissa. But she doesn’t. Instead, she simply shrugs and turns her attention back to her phone.

“Melissa!” Janine admonishes.

“What, pipsqueak? She usually has a decent lunch. We all have our days of going back to the basics.”

“This is ridiculous!”

You just chuckle when you see that Melissa is silently portioning her own meal and sliding you half of it. 

Once again, you’re sitting in the library for a staff meeting where Ava has asked you to share out how you teach english language arts- a subject that your students are excelling in because of your unique approach to the sometimes difficult concepts. And once again, Delores is doing everything in her power to diminish your successes.

“Would you just shut up?” Melissa intervenes. “Ava asked her to speak out, and again, some of us aren’t old dogs like you who can’t learn new tricks.”

Your jaw practically drops at those biting words, but they do get your colleague to stop interjecting with criticism. Green eyes look to you again, and you have to hide the blush that wants to creep into your cheeks.

As luck would have it, after a rough staff meeting, your students are just not cooperating with you the way that you wish they would. You sigh softly as you lead them down to the lunch room before heading towards the faculty room for your own meal. It’s a Friday, which means that they’re already bouncing off the walls with the excitement for the weekend- but it’s also a long weekend, and you happen to know that Janiyah is having her birthday party that most of your students are attending. So they’re worse than they usually are on the last day of the school week.

You drop into your chair quietly, not yet reaching for your lunch bag. Instead, your fingers find their way to your temples, and you begin to rub them softly, hoping to alleviate some of the pain and discomfort.

“Rough day?” Melissa asks you quietly.

“Rough week,” you chuckle weakly. “After this morning, and then with the long weekend, my kids are giving me a run for my money today.”

“They’re menaces in my room today too,” the redhead tells you. “Sounds like you need a drink after work.”

You can’t help but feel inclined to agree. “Sure, why not?”

“Oscars, for happy hour?”

That’s how you end up at the local dive bar that your coworkers usually head to after a long week of work. Although this time, it’s oddly just the two of you. The rest of your friends already had plans. So, you’re sitting on one bar stool while your redheaded coworker is beside you, sipping your second margaritas.

“Damn,” you breathe out heavily. “I didn’t realize how much I needed this.”

“Me too,” Melissa sighs out. “I can only take so much of Delores and her bullshit… I don’t know how you put up with all of her shit. I can’t take it anymore.”

“I don’t quite think I’ve earned it yet enough to even attempt to put her in her place,” you laugh as you take another swig of your drink.

“I don’t even care anymore,” your colleague shrugs with no remorse. “Barb’s always tellin’ me I should try being nicer, but I don’t see the point; if she’s going to be rude, why can’t I?”

“Some people think that you should be nicer,” you giggle out as your gaze lingers on her lips. “Not me though. I think you’re perfect just the way you are.”

Maybe you should slow down the way that you’re drinking. You hadn’t meant for it to slip that you think she’s perfect.

Green eyes are rolled so hard you think they may get stuck. “You just say that because I always stick up for you.”

“And how nice is that?” You lean in and lay a gentle hand on her forearm, eyes once again flickering down to her full lips. “You’re perfect.”

“Am I?” the redhead chuckles as she finishes her second drink. She looks to you expectantly. Of course, you oblige her silent request and finish your own off despite the fact that you’ve thought about how you should slow down.

You’re able to get the bartender’s attention to order two more before turning back to Melissa. “I’d say you are. You’re- you’re funny, and smart, and sweet, and gorgeous.”

“Gorgeous?” A perfectly sculpted brow is lifted, a smirk apparent on the redhead’s face.

Your cheeks tint red. “I- I-”

“That’s quite the compliment coming from you,” the redhead says.

Your brows furrow in confusion. “What?”

“Someone as beautiful as yourself telling me that I’m gorgeous? Now that’s quite the compliment.”

“Y-you think I’m pretty?” you stammer out.

“Of course I-” The bartender places down your drinks in front of you, and Melissa pauses to thank him before turning back to you. “Of course I do. Why do you think I defend you all the time?”

“Because you’re nice?”

“Because you’re gorgeous,” the redhead corrects you. “And sometimes it’s fun rescuing the damsel in distress.”

“I am not a damsel in distress!” you protest.

“So you’re tellin’ me you want me to stop rescuing you from Delores?” Melissa asks you with a frown.

“N- no,” you stutter out. “I- I like when you do that.”

“Can I rescue you from something else?” the redhead leans in closely.

“And what would that be?”

“I’ll save you from yourself,” Melissa smiles as her eyes lower to your lips. She kisses you softly. “You’ve been staring at my lips since we got here. How long was it going to take for you to kiss me?”

You bite your lip before pulling her in softly again. When you pull away, you can’t help the laughter that bubbles up out of you. “Thank you for saving me from myself… and from the others.”

“Always will,” the redhead laughs as she pulls you in again.

And Melissa makes good on her words. Once the two of you begin dating, her fierce protectiveness of you only shines more. And each time, once the two of you are in the comfort of your own home, she’ll tease you quietly.

“My damsel in distress,” she’ll chuckle softly before pulling you in.

TAGS: @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @sweetcheeksschemmenti @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @a-queen-and-her-throne @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld @cosmichymns @sasheemo @m1lflov3rrr @ricejucie @temilyrights @emilynissangtr @squinnchy @dopenightmaretyphoon @emeraldoceansstuff @shinyfaerielights  @blkmxrvel @marvelwomenrule @sarahjohannson @casualfoxwitch @babytakeittothehead @schemmentits

[rongzhi]

(Apologies in advance for typos.)

^ My original tags on this, but actually, I wanted to expand on my views about this a little bit based on some other collected musings I had about the XHS move (which—now that the dust has settled a bit, is it still going on? I don't even know). I'll preface this by saying that my own XHS has been pretty much spared of the wave of American signups, since my feed is mostly art/tattoos and not so much lifestyle/vlogs.

Mainly, I wanted to dig into that feeling of being "over it", a sentiment I've seen circulated on Tumblr by other Chinese diaspora. I think it's a IYKYK situation in some ways but I wonder if non-Chinese diaspora are precisely aware of why there is a underlying sense of caution and this side-eyeing toward everything going on. (To an extent, I think non-Americans who have to deal with us Americans dominating internet spaces probably also have some insight into this.)

Essentially, after that initial cute "haha" feeling of seeing people jump into a new space and meeting all the new people, for me personally, just from having run this blog for 4 years now, I feel distinctly aware that things could go wrong.

Others have said it better, be it pointing out the infantilising or inherent sinophobia, but there is a slant to that attitude of jumping on a new app and discovering that Chinese people can be funny, that they can be kind, that they are sociable and, in basic terms, "just like you", that leaves a bitter taste in the mouth. Oh, you just realised that? People can argue that it was never possible to connect with Chinese netizens before all they want, but in fact, clearly, it was as easy as downloading an app that's free on U.S app stores. Next, you could say, well, there's cultural exchange happening now, which is better than nothing, so what are you so pissy about! I agree, I'm not saying it's a bad thing that some Americans are finally making some attempt to converse with someone outside of their Western, Anglo internet bubble (even if they did so as in the comfort of what is essentially another bubble, as part of a trend). Obviously there is a net good to a person joining XHS, and my wariness mostly comes down to this sense of "discovery" coming with a feeling that Chinese people are still getting lumped into a monolith. Maybe now the monolith is nice and friendly; now the monolith is cute and funny and helpful.

What happens if the Tiktokers realise that some Chinese people also are more socially conservative, or that there are societal issues that Chinese people still have to work through, which aren't ideal or progressive enough for the Enlightened Americans—then what? I've already seen the answer in smaller doses over the years, so I don't know about others, but this is something that I—maybe—hopefully just cynically—can't help but keep my ears tuned towards: the other shoe dropping. Again, for Chinese diaspora (and no doubt, diaspora of any culture in a similar situation), it's "if you know, you know"; we've seen the fickleness of attitudes. The xenophobia and sinophobia that run rampant in U.S society (and I'm sure other western countries, but I speak as a USian) is well known to us in a way that mainlanders often don't take heed toward. Even if there is a sinophobic backlash over anything that arises online, the brunt of it won't be felt by Chinese netizens but us Chinese diaspora who spend the most time in Anglo internet spaces. So, I'm a bit over it all. I've seen how interest in China can play out—for example, how learning Mandarin or being a fan of cdramas or hanfu hardly frees a person of their sinophobia or from regurgitating xenophobic talking points.

It's nice but naive to think that the majority of the tiktokers playing around on XHS right now, trading memes and basking in the numbers of Chinese social media, will truly self-interrogate all too deeply. If some of them seem to have only just realised that Chinese people are ~so nice~, how Other have they been seeing Chinese diaspora? Is that still the case? Will they necessarily make the same effort to know and listen to Chinese diaspora? (People in cfandom will know the answer).

Again, I think there's an overall positive to all this, especially in this ~political climate~ (altho I doubt the people who need positive interaction with Chinese people the most downloaded XHS lol). I guess I just wanted to add all this because because I feel like my first response was quite vague and on second thought, I figured I might as well try to unravel some of my thoughts and impart them to anyone who maybe had no idea there was this perspective to things. Call me jaded or no fun at parties all you like, but that's literally just how it is.

Lastly, I'll just say that from me scrolling douyin, I've also seen how people in China have reacted to the influx of Americans on XHS, so I can tell you a little bit of the other side. It also corresponds a little with what I'm trying (but maybe failing) to say about Chinese diaspora: the people who have been having as much/equal fun with the convergence of internet spaces have been mainlanders with no general dealings with Americans. In the past week, the bloggers I've seen who've been vocal/warning about Chinese people not bending over backwards to start speaking English all the time, or just following/kissing up to Americans because they're white*, have been Chinese netizens—mainly students—who live/study abroad.

* Yes, obviously there are non-White Americans, but white people are, as ever, uplifted the most by society on the basis of being white. We know this.

how do you feel about so many americans getting on 小红书?

[twddixonn]

Good Boy

Daryl Dixon x Reader one shot

Warnings/Tags: not proof read!!!, sfw, some swears, shane.

this is my first fic on this account, my first time attempting to write a fic in 4-ish years and my first time trying to write a twd fic. honestly it’s probably not great but I hope it’s at least somewhat decent. :-)

(also written and posted mobile so not sure how it will appear on browser, hopefully not too terrible!)

“Leave me the hell alone.” You harshly whispered, turning on your heels and storming away from the scene in front of you.

Your best friend reuniting with his wife and son. Alive. Not dead. This whole time he had you believing that Rick was dead and gone, never coming back. Yet your eyes were seeing a whole different story to the one Shane painted out for you a couple months prior.

Shane followed pursuit, ignoring the former comment you had made and put a firm hold on your wrist before pulling you behind Dales RV to conceal you from the others.

“Hey, hey . I swear to you Y/N, he was dead when I left that hospital room. He wasn’t breathing. Th- the monitors, they all stopped. Everything went dead. He was dead.” Shane iterated, time and time again.

You feel the anger bubbling up inside you, just like all those other times when Shane had told you Rick was dead and to get it through your head he isn’t coming back. Your hands curled into fists, your nails stabbing into your palm leaving crescent shaped indents.

“Except he wasn’t. Is this why you didn’t want me to go there? Didn’t want Lori to go there? Because you knew if you swooped in and saved her and Carl when Rick couldn’t that what- she’d become your damsel in distress? Is this why? Just so you could get your leg over and fuck your partners wife and become Carls daddy? You’re pathetic Shane.” At this point your head was swarming with thoughts and ideas of what you wanted to do to Shane but better judgement got the best of you.

You began to walk off when a hand reached for you again, this time rougher. Shane pushed you against the RV, his brows furrowed and sweat dripping off his temples- smoke nearly coming out of his ears at this point.

“I don’t know what you think you know but you’re wrong either way. I think you’re forgetting that I didn’t just save Lori and Carl, I saved your sorry ass too. I didn’t have to. That was on me Y/N, That was on me. An’ I ain’t ever looked at Lori like that before, she was Ricks wife and he was my best friend. It happened because I thought he was dead.” He all but growled at you in a hushed whisper.

You remained quiet and stoic for a few moments, registering your thoughts before smirking slightly and speaking again. Pushing Shane’s hand off of you, you began to walk away but not before turning and giving one last snide remark, “I think I know right. And, by the way.. really interesting use of the past tense in those last few sentences there.”

Dickhead.

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“I’ve been here for quite a few hours now and yet, still no hello?” You looked beside you to see Rick crouched with a smile on his face, placing an arm around your shoulder which you leaned into graciously.

“Sorry Grimes.. just- a lot to take in y’no.” You said.

“Na’ I get it. Shane told me what happened.” Rick remarked whilst kissing his teeth and shaking his head.

“He did? Really? What did he say?.”

To say you were shocked was an understatement, Shane had really gone out of his way to-

“Yeah.” He breathed out, “Told me how it started, he tried to get me from the hospital but I wasn’t breathing and he thought I was dead. How he saved you and Lori n’ Carl and got you all here.”

“He told you that huh.” You should have known.

Rick started to stand back up, giving you a pat on the back and a kiss to the forehead first “I’m gonna go get some shut eye, you need too aswell. Talk more in the morning Y/N.” Rick turned to walk back towards camp, not before turning and speaking again, “Y/N.. go nice on Shane though ok? He’s a good guy, you just gotta give him a chance.”

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You wake up the next day to the sound of what you thought was - for once - peace and quiet. Until you hear the shouts outside and a woman screaming stop.

Debating between laying back down and just going back to sleep or getting up and out of your tent to see what was going on, you went with the better judgement and begrudgingly dragged yourself to get changed and step outside.

Shielding your eyes from the rays of light beaming off the Atlanta sun with a sigh escaping your lips at the slight breeze that hit your clammy skin.

“You’d best let me go!”- what the fuck was happening this time?

Walking closer you take sight of Shane with his arms wrapped around Daryl’s neck. A fuckin’ cop getting someone in a choke hold the minute they raise their voice? New worlds maybe not as different from before.

“I’d like to have a calm discussion on this topic, you think we can manage that?” Rick spoke calmly whilst he crouched in front of Daryl, his chest heaving with rocky breaths as Shane’s tight grip didn’t let up just yet.

“You think we can manage that?” Rick repeated.

You zoned out at this point, eyes boring into the side of Shane’s skull with anger.

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“I’m coming.” You didn’t hesitate to jump at the opportunity to get away from camp for a while. The rising tension taking over was beginning to grate at you.

“That’s five”

Shane piped up “It’s not just five, you’re putting every single one of us at risk.” “Just know that Rick”

“Come on man you saw that walker. It was here.

It was in camp.

They’re moving out of the cities.

They come back, we need every able body we’ve got.

We need em here, we need em to protect camp.”

Staying focused when Shane’s voice is droning on for what seems like eternity is quite the mission lately. Listening to him is beginning to seem like nails on a chalkboard.

“-Shane is right. Merle Dixon? He’s not worth one of your lives, even with guns thrown in.”

Hearing Loris voice made you gain attention again.

“If someone left Rick behind-“ you began to join the conversation, maybe with the words aimed at Shane slightly. He clearly picked up on it as his eyes shot to you, if looks could only kill, you’d be six feet under.

“Would you want them to go back for him? Or would you let him stay handcuffed to a roof to die slowly?” Your eyes landing on Lori.

“That’s different. Rick.. he.. he isn’t like Merle. He wouldn’t get himself into that position in the first place.” The stern mom tone coming out as Lori tried to keep her composure and not snap in front of Carl.

“You think Merle purposely got himself into that position? He’s an asshole yeah, and he may have deserved it. But he didn’t expect to be handcuffed and then left behind. Not knowing if anyone was going to go back for him. It may have been an accident. But he shouldn’t have to sit there wondering if he’s just going to die from thirst and hunger or if he’s going to get torn to pieces at the hands of walkers. He may not be your family, but he’s someone’s family. You have your husband, your son. You have Shane. Merle is all Daryl has.” You’re not sure if you were even breathing during that, your chest rising up and down at a rapid speed. You felt rage. How could anyone justify this bullshit?

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Sitting in the back of the van was a bit more awkward than you anticipated. Glenn and Rick up front. You, Daryl and T-dog in the back. Maybe the tension in the back of this van was worse than the tension at camp?

You looked up smiling at T-dog as he avoided Daryl’s intense stare, before he got up and headed to the front to talk to Glenn and Rick.

Daryl kept shooting you glances whenever he thought you couldn’t see, a grunt leaving his mouth every so often as if he was about to talk but decided against it.

Just as you looked up at him, he was already staring with his open yet no words seemed to come so he just scoffed and averted his eyes anywhere but at you.

You began to grow a bit frustrated at him. “What?”

“Nothin’” he all but murmured.

“Stop grunting and scoffing at me like a dog who didn’t get enough treats, be a good boy and just say whatever it is you’ve been wanting to say for the last 15 minutes.” You couldn’t help but chuckle at yourself.

You could have sworn you saw a light tinge of pink cross his cheeks before his head dropped down facing his lap.

His mouth opened and closed, before opening once again “Why’d ya stick up for me.. for Merle back at tha’ camp?”

Oh. That’s what this was about? The intense looks he gave you before this made you think it was about anything but this.

“What do you mean?” You had to admit you were somewhat confused at this.

“Ya said it y’self, Merle, he’s an asshole. So why’d ya go out of ya way to defend him? Why didn’t ya just side with the others and leave him?” Head dropping once again as his thumb found its way to his lips as he gnawed on the nail.

Silence.

You were stuck for words. “He is an asshole. Maybe one of the biggest assholes I’ve ever known. But he’s your brother, maybe not the greatest one but still your brother no matter what. He’s all you have left. The others may not understand, but I do.” Taking a deep breath in and thinking about your next words carefully, “I honestly couldn’t give a shit about him. Doesn’t mean I want him to suffer up there on that roof. No one deserves it. Well I mean maybe some people y’no? Really bad people. And maybe Shane. Merle, he’s not necessarily one of those really bad people. He makes mistakes, says things he definitely shouldn’t and has actions that match, but don’t we all in one way or another?”

Daryl was slightly overwhelmed. Not expecting you to be so honest and caring? Somewhat caring anyway. He didn’t know what to say.

You hummed and tapped your fingers against your legs, “Nothing to say?”

“I dunno what you want me to say.”

A grin made its way to your face.

“How about a thanks?”

“Thanks.” He grumbled trying not to scoff afterwards to avoid being called a dog again.

The van began to come to a stop, Glenn saying something about walking from here.

You stood up whilst stretching your arms above your head.

“That’ll do. Good boy.”

You smirked at him before opening the back of the van and climbing out. Leaving a blushing Daryl in the back trying to hide his face as he groaned standing up.

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authors note: it’s not the greatest, I am very aware. but I really wanna get back into writing in general and I thought starting with twd would be the best place to start as it’s one of my comfort shows. there’s not much happening, it’s very heavily based on s1 e3 obviously but it’s mostly just to try and get back in the swing of things! if you have an constructive feedback or any comments you’d like to make, please feel free as it will be much appreciated :-) I’m hoping to improve my writing skills more and more. It will probably take a while (I’ve literally had the first half of this thing in my notes app since June 2024) but I hope to get to the point of making some good fics! thank you for reading if you managed to make it this far!:)

[bellamoooon]

Shitty draft <333

I love my queen tashi but I need her to be a villain for this teehee

Arts grandma loved his long blonde curls, and would point it out every time they talked.

“Have you cut your hair short Artie? You know how much I love those curls of yours”

And if he was completely honest, he actually didn’t hate his long hair, in fact, most girls he would talk to would always say how much they loved his hair.

Especially you, he loved that you adored his hair; how you’d runs your fingers through his thick blonde curls or how occasionally you would braid some strands when cuddling and talking.

But that all took a turn, when he got with Tashi —who by the way did not like his long hair— he immediately chopped it down to a short length but not too short.

She always said his hair would get sweaty, making it annoying during matches, plus she said he look like a little kid with his curls, leading to the decision.

So now in the present, Art and Tashi were in the middle of a divorce, but he still had to attend the foundation’s events, so imagine his surprise as he sat next to you uncomfortably in silence.

”you cut your hair….” Was the first thing that came out of your mouth as you recognized him then going silent.

“Yeah�� it was annoying to wash after the matches so…” he spoke with a bit of hesitation as the question popped into his head, what did you think about it? He couldn’t quite read your expression.

“It’s— it looks…nice” you say looking down at your hands, swallowing thickly not really knowing what else to say, not that you didn’t like it, but, he looked so different— sure it had been a good ten years since you last saw him, and you could see him age slightly but his face didn’t change.

He was the same Art, your Art.

“Tashi made me cut it” he blurted out after a couple of minutes of awkward silence, “she said it made me look like a kid” he had no idea why he was telling all that, it’s not like she cared anymore, or did she?

You let out a laugh, a hand covering your mouth as you tried to muffle the noise, Art furrowed his brows as he turned to look at you. “I’m sorry— it’s just that I couldn’t have imagined a single person who hated your long hair” you spoke almost unable to believe that Tashi did not like his curls.

“Yeah well— I kinda regret cutting it, I think I’ll let it grow back, y’know retirement and…the divorce” he slowed his pace as he mentioned the divorce, it really sucked to be him right now, he thought.

“That’s good, you always did look better with your long hair, I didn’t want to be a bitch in case it was your choice” you said as you pointed at his hair with a playful grin.

Right there. There it was.

Art wanted to die on the spot, how the hell did he manage to ever get with you, AND leave you for his teenage fantasy with Tashi.

Deep down he knew things between the two of you would never be like it was before, but a small part of him wanted to convince himself just for the night, that maybe, just maybe, the two of you could actually start over.

“Art, they need you for pictures” Tashi’s voice brought him back, he nodded softly muttering “be right there” as she turned away not even caring, you looked at Tashi walking away to then turn to Art, who had the expression of a kicked puppy with his tail between its legs.

“I’d hate to be you” you joked with a hint of tenderness you always carried when talking to him, “I’ll see you…around, hopefully.”

His heart dropped at the words, you had a longing look as you waved goodbye while walking away, he definitely hated being him right now.

I kinda hate this 😩💀

[traumadumpwriter]

JJ Maybank X Reader ~ Relapse and a Half

Summary: The Pogues feel betrayed by the readers sudden relapse into drugs, but they're unable to be angry at her for too long as something terrible leaves her needing their support more than ever.

Trigger warning for: drugs (obviously), guns, sexual assault, violence

Part One

Part Two

Part Three:

After the confrontation at your house a night prior, JJ had only been able to see red, quickly pacing past your mum before making his way to the Chateau, kicking over some bins and verbally abusing some kids on his way.

He couldn't believe that you liked him. That you wanted to be with him. The thought stressed him out and made him regret doing whatever he'd done to get you to fall for him.

It wasn't that he didn't like you back. In fact it was quite the opposite - he'd been entirely obsessed with you ever since you'd arrived in the Outer Banks. His issue was that he'd seen up close just how damaged you were, just how sweet and kind you could be, just how much you deserved the world and everything in it - but not him. He wasn't good enough; not cool enough, not smart enough, not clean enough.

"Why him?" He thought. "Of everyone on this island, why him?"

You could've gone for Pope or John B or even one of the Kooks, at least they would treat you right. It might've killed him inside to see, but it would've been better than the pain he was feeling now, knowing that he'd been unintentionally hurting you this whole time, knowing that he was the one who bore the responsibility of your heart.

He stormed into John B's without stopping, going straight for the blunt in the ashtray and then storming back outside. From his behaviour, the Pogues feared for the worst and Kie's eyes were quickly tearing up, panic settling into her chest.

"She's okay, isn't she?" She followed JJ outside in a pleading tone, shortly followed by Pope and John B. "Please say she's okay."

JJ didn't answer, angrily sucking on the blunt and staring out at the sea, his mind racing.

"Answer me JJ! What's happened?" Kie demanded.

"Is she alright? Was she at home?" Pope questioned.

"JJ- fucking answer us man! Is she at the hospital? Is she- is she okay?" John B shouted.

JJ took another sharp drag on the blunt before solemnly answering.

"She's fine. I mean, she's not, but she's alive."

Kie shoved him with some frustration, her tears quickly drying up but her teeth gritting.

"Why the hell would you scare us like that? What happened?"

"We had an argument... I- You were right Kie. It is my fault."

She blinked incredulously, double taking as she tried to suss out what was wrong with the boy.

"What are you talking about?" She questioned angrily.

He took another sharp drag, even sharper this time, ran his hand through his hair and then turned to the Pogues with exasperation.

"Y/N likes me! And I've been a fucking idiot to not see it. I shouldn't have rubbed all those girls in her face. I didn't think she cared, but.. I guess she did."

"So you're saying that like it's a bad thing. I thought you liked her too." John B proclaimed in a confused tone, shooting a look to Pope who had also been aware of JJ's crush.

Kie was kicking herself for not picking up on that, wishing she’d known and she could’ve told you weeks ago - before you even had the chance to get depressed and pick up a pill again. But she didn’t focus on that thought for too long, more focused on your current wellbeing.

"I do, I just- We all know I'm a piece of shit, okay? I don't deserve someone like her. Hopefully she sees that now." JJ tutted, his eyes darting between each of the Pogues.

The uncertainty of his statement made them all nervous. 'Hopefully she sees that now' - what the hell did that mean?

"What do you mean? What did you do?" Kie hissed, her heart in her throat.

"Nothing! I was just rude. I guess I rejected her. Called her a junkie-"

Kie hit him again, seething with the boy at that point.

"What is wrong with you? Why the fuck would you do that?" She snapped, grabbing the blunt from his hand and throwing it onto the floor. "Go back there now and tell her you love her! She's probably crying her heart out right now."

JJ shook his head, thinking about picking up the blunt from the ground but not bothering. Weed wasn't strong enough to make him feel better anyway. He wanted to follow Kie's instruction, he wanted to hold you and tell you his truth, but he could think of too many reasons why not to - too many reasons why you were better off without him. The rejection may hurt now but you would get over it. You had plenty of other options. You would get sober again and you would be fine. His issue was that whether he was sober or not, he was never fine.

"Being with me would only fuck up her life more and you all know that! You should just convince her to like someone else, someone whose good for her. I can't do this." JJ protested.

"You're not a bad guy, man. Come on." John B said but JJ just shook his head again, walking towards his motorbike.

"So you're just gonna leave?" Pope scoffed as JJ got onto the bike.

"I told her to turn on her phone. Try calling her again." He said numbly before kick starting the bike and speeding off.

Kie groaned, unsurprised that when she called your phone moments later it didn't go through. She sat melancholically next to Pope, leaning on his shoulder whilst John B stressfully kicked a stick around.

"Well that's not what I was expecting." Pope sighed and then turned to Kie. "How long has Y/N been crushing on JJ exactly?"

She shrugged and shook her head.

"I don't know. Forever. But that doesn't matter anyway. I'm worried. It must've taken a lot for her to admit that she likes him, so she's either really manic or.."

"Really high." John B finished her sentence, not looking up from the ground.

"How much do you want to bet it's the second one?" Pope groaned.

"I just don't get why she didn't talk to me if JJ was upsetting her this much. She promised us she'd never use again. She's never broken a promise before." Kie sighed and then stood up. "I'm gonna go to hers. I'm annoyed but.. I'm more worried than anything. I wonder if her mum has clocked on yet… I’ll see you guys tomorrow."

"Love that woman but she's clueless so I doubt it." John B scoffed dryly. "See you tomorrow Kie."

Kie picked up her bike and rode it to your house, her mind racing with all the possibilities of what you could be doing.

"Most likely passed out or crying." She thought, her chest aching as she thought of your pain. You'd been through a lot together, and though she was beyond frustrated with your relapse, she wouldn't stop being your friend because of it.

When Kie eventually knocked on your door, your mum was surprised to open it to her.

"Isn't Y/N at yours? That's where she said she was going. JJ upset her quite a bit earlier." Your mum questioned and Kie was quick to catch on to the lie.

"Oh yeah- yeah she is. She's just so upset right now. She forgot some stuff and I said I would come and get it for her."

"You're so lovely Kie. What would she do without you?" Your mum smiled, letting her in.

When Kie went up to your bedroom and picked up a bag to strengthen her lie, she was concerned to see that your phone was still on your bed. Wherever you'd gone, you hadn't brought it. She turned on the phone in hope that it would give some clue as to where you could be, but all that came through were the missed calls and messages from the Pogues.

Kie couldn't let herself panic though. You were grown enough to look after yourself.

"Maybe she just went on a walk. Or a bike ride even. That's most likely. She probably just went to clear her head. I'll try again tomorrow." Kie thought to herself, but she took the phone anyway, hoping that when you came back you would have to come get it off her. She scrawled a note onto your mirror with an eyeliner from the side; "Got ur phone. P4L. - K"

The next day, Kie waited until the afternoon to leave her house, waiting for your knock on the door that never came. She decided that she would go back to your house and confront you there, but when she arrived there was no one inside. Your mum would be at work - that made sense - but after pounding on your door loud enough to wake you up from whatever slumber you might be in and getting no answer, she started to panic.

All of the worst possibilities sprung into her head - a horrific vision of you overdosed and alone, bent over the toilet and throwing up uncontrollably or even passed out and foaming at the mouth - so she quickly rushed to find the spare key under one of the many plant pots and slammed it into the door. She ran up the stairs, loudly repeating your name as she did, and paced into your room.

"Y/N, please be okay." She said before opening the door, her heart dropping when you weren't in the bed.

Nothing in the room had moved, not the crumpled up bedding, the pile of clothes in the corner nor the note on the mirror. You hadn't come back.

"Shit. Where the fuck is she?" She muttered to herself before pacing around the house, desperately searching for you but finding nothing. "Need to find her."

Now her mind raced to even darker corners. Perhaps you'd fallen into one of the many bodies of water on the island, high and uncoordinated, and drowned. Or maybe you'd crashed your bike into an oncoming vehicle. Maybe you'd passed out somewhere and someone had called an ambulance, or maybe you’d put yourself in danger without even realising it. She had no idea how spot on she was with the last prediction.

Kie had told Pope of her plan to force you to come to hers by keeping your phone, and all of the boys had assumed that the confrontation had been over and done with by that point, so they were confused when she turned up at the Chateau without you.

"Did you speak to YN?" JJ asked, springing up from his seat as soon as he spotted Kie.

He'd hardly slept, tossing around in his bed all night as he thought of all the things he wanted to say to you but couldn't. "It was better this way." He tried to convince himself "She's better off thinking I don't want her. Maybe she didn't even mean what she said. Maybe she was just high." He couldn't push the image of him holding you and loving you from his head though.

"No. She never came to mine." Kie huffed, wheeling her bike over with furrowed brows. "And before you ask - yes I went to hers, she's not there. Doesn't look like she's been home at all since I went there last night."

"So where is she?" John B questioned, his posture tightening.

"Do I look like I know?" Kie snapped. "I'm seriously worried."

"Shit." JJ hissed, instantly jumping into a panic. He was quick and erratic. "Okay. We should all split up and look for her. I'll check the marsh and the forest, Kie you should check figure eight, Pope you check town, and John B you take the boat and check the waters. Report back here in two hours."

He rushed towards his motorbike before anyone could even answer, but stopped in his tracks when Pope suggested a disheartening idea. It was an idea that had occurred to both John B and Kie as soon as JJ had announced his plan, though it didn’t surprise them that he didn’t think of it. He was someone who always lived in a somewhat state of denial.

"Don't you think one of us should check the hospital too? You know, just in case."

JJ swallowed, catching the lump in his throat before it could properly form, and nodded.

"Y-Yeah. You do that." He said without turning around. He wanted to argue - to say that the idea was ridiculous and a waste of time - but he couldn't find it in himself to do so. Pope might be right, and if he was... JJ had to cut his thoughts off before they got too hard to bare. He jumped onto his bike and sped off, heading straight to the marshes.

His search was obviously fruitless. He waded through knee high mud and lifted up heavy logs. He dug through thick bushes and climbed up trees. He shouted your name at the top of his lungs and prayed to God that you would appear.

But none of it worked.

By time the two hour mark had hit, he'd searched miles of forestry and worked up quite a sweat. Still, he wouldn't stop until he knew you were safe.

"Maybe one of the others have found her." He thought desperately to himself, jumping on his bike and heading back to the Chateau. They'd all tried to convince themselves with the same hopeful thought and been sorely disappointed when they eventually returned to their friends. JJ was the last to arrive.

"Any luck?" He shouted from his bike before he'd even got off it, springing across the lawn.

The rest of the Pogues were stood in a circle, also damp with sweat and breathing heavily. They looked upset which was understandable given the situation, but JJ felt his heart jump into his throat as he worried that the unimaginable had happened.

"Pope! She wasn't in the hospital, was she?" He asked with urgency, pacing over to the boy.

Pope was breathing heavily, still catching his breath from the run back to the Chateau.

"Pope!" JJ repeated in an almost shout, shaking his friends shoulders.

"No- No." Pope panted out.

"Chill, JJ. None of us had any luck." John B patted him on the back with a sympathetic look.

It didn't calm him down though. Instead he started to anxiously pace, running his hands through his hair and repeating to himself "Think, JJ. Think!"

"She might just be at someone's house. Who knows, she could be having a great time right now while we're thinking the worst." John B suggested which Kie rolled her eyes at.

"The only people she’d ever hang out with other than us are druggie degenerates, so it's not exactly great if she's with them either. Those people wouldn't care if she was on the floor foaming at the mouth."

"Well I don't know what you want me to suggest, Kie! We've looked everywhere else. Should we start banging on the doors of every junkie we know? Because that could take a while!"

As John B and Kie bickered, JJ continued his pacing, racking his mind for ideas until one shot into his head like a bullet.

"Wait-Wait. What did you just say?" He turned to his arguing friends.

"That she's probably with some drugged up degenerate?" John B answered in a sarcastic tone.

"That's it! She's probably at her dealers house. And I know only one scum bag who sells that prescription shit."

JJ ran back to his bike without saying another word, ignoring the questions from the Pogues as he kick started it and sped off - some hope finally in his mind though it was still mostly clouded by worry.

"Should we follow him?" Pope asked.

"Probably." Kie answered, heading towards the Twinkie with a sigh.

It was ten minutes later that JJ pulled up by Barry's house, carefully parking his bike around the corner so that the dealer wouldn't see him. They'd had their fair share of arguments already about JJ's dad and due to this JJ knew that he had a gun. It wouldn't do him any good to get caught on his property.

The blonde paced through the overgrown front lawn and almost jumped for joy when he saw your bike strewn lazily into one of the bushes - the signature ugly green paint instantly catching his eye. You would just be sat on the sofa smoking a joint or something. He could knock on the door, distract Barry without getting shot somehow and get you out of there in no time.

Then the sound of a large vehicle coming towards the house reached his ears, and he quickly ducked around the corner and crouched under one of the windows, anxious to not be caught by one of Barry's customers either. They typically weren't the most reasonable people after all. He was relieved with his decision when Rafe Cameron jumped out of the truck, music blaring and obnoxiously announcing himself as he knocked loudly on the front door.

JJ's ear pricked as he heard Barry's voice from inside, not having realised that the window on the wall above his head was open.

"Shit." The dealer tutted, followed by the sound of a zip. "Why now?"

Barry's breathing was heavy, like he'd been doing exercise, and it peaked JJ's curiosity. Was he working out whilst you watched from the sofa? That would be fucking weird. There was no way you would be lifting weights with him.

JJ listened carefully, waiting for the sound of the front door to open and the start of a passive aggressive conversation between the two men before he stood up and looked in the window. If either of them caught him, that would be a lot of trouble.

He wasn't at all prepared for what he saw through the glass though.

The sound of the zip suddenly made sense, and the heavy breathing. You were there, lying in an unmade bed, stripped naked and seemingly asleep. Even unconscious your face looked so sad and your body looked tired; thin, with random bruises scattered about your limbs and dirty looking hickies on your chest.

Had you let Barry do this? Surely not. Surely you had more self respect than that.

The thought of any other man touching you was enough to make JJ feel upset, let alone a scumbag dealer that he knew you would never have any real feelings for. But then it dawned onto him - that if you hadn't wanted Barry to have sex with you, that didn't make it any better. In fact, it made it a whole lot worse.

It meant that... you'd been tricked or forced or coerced in some way. It meant that you'd been raped. And maybe you didn't even know it. Maybe you were so knocked out that you would have no idea what Barry had done. Maybe he had drugged you on purpose so that he could do it.

JJ's blood boiled, so much so that he felt himself getting physically hotter, his teeth grinding and his fists clenching. He tapped on the window, hoping to get a response from you, but you stayed stiff and still, your eyes closed and your breathing shallow.

How much had you taken? Had he given you something too strong? Did the dealer even know if you were on the boundary of never waking up? Did he care? Either way, there was no way you could've rightfully consented to doing anything sexual with anyone. Not when you were clearly out cold.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." JJ hissed to himself, trying to quickly brainstorm a way to get you out of there without getting killed by Rafe or Barry.

He pulled out his phone and went to text John B before remembering that he'd ran out of data, cursing himself for not paying his bill once again. Then he decided to creep around the back and listen in through another window, hoping that he'd overhear something to help with his plan. All that he heard didn't serve to help though, in fact it made his rage all the more fiery and his brain even less able to come up with a good idea. The desperation was becoming torturous.

"Where's Y/L/N then? I can see her ugly ass bike out the front." Rafe asked in a mocking tone.

"She's in bed, sleeping. What's it to you country club?" Barry answered.

Rafe scoffed. "I caught you mid fuck didn't I? Sorry for being a cock block bro. Can't say I'm not jealous. Bet she's a total freak in the sheets."

JJ could practically hear the smug smirk on Barry's face.

"Yeah, tits like you've never seen. And pussy like a vice grip. You wanna come take a look? She's out cold."

"You already know my answer to that, bro." Rafe chuckled.

JJ's eyes widened, a deep panic settling into his chest. You would be mortified to know that Rafe Cameron had been ogling your exposed form, let alone the potential that Barry might actually let him sleep with you. He ran back around to the other window and banged on it one more time in hopes of waking you up before quickly ducking down again just as the two men entered the room. He couldn't stay down and listen to their crass remarks this time, he couldn't bare it. He had to cause a distraction.

With a rush of inspiration, he picked up a rock and lobbed it at Rafe's truck, creating a loud thud as it dented the exterior. The two degenerates stormed outside at that and JJ heard the sound of a gun clicking.

"What the fuck was that?" Barry muttered whilst Rafe angrily proclaimed "Something dented my ride!"

"If there's anybody out there, you better come out now!" He shouted, his voice echoing around the vacant lot of overgrown swampland.

Then right on cue, the Twinkie pulled around the corner, a very confused looking John B in the drivers seat with Kie and Pope sat behind him. Rafe scoffed something bigoted about the Pogues before stamping over to the van, knocking so hard on the window that he was almost punching it. JJ would've been glad for his friends arrival if not for the pistol in Barry's hand.

"You dented my fucking car. Get the fuck out here!" Rafe demanded as Kie slid open the door, pacing at him with a scowl.

"We didn't do shit to your car. Now where the fuck is Y/N?"

"Didn't do shit? Look at the dent! You're paying for this Kie - since I know you're the only one with any money."

"I'm not paying for something I didn't do. Now tell me where my friend is. I can see her bike there and I swear to god if either of you have hurt her-"

"What are you gonna do? Huh?" Rafe cut her off with an intimidating smirk, stepping so that he was inches from her face. "You can't do shit."

Pope jumped out of the van and quickly got in between them, his nostrils flaring as he eyed the sociopath. John B quickly jumped out too, though before he could open his mouth to say anything Barry had cocked the gun and pointed it at the trio.

"Y/N ain't here. She bought her pills and wondered off into the marsh. Left her bike behind. Now if you want to find her before the gators do, you lot best be on your way."

No one moved an inch, horrified by the revelation of Barry's statement.

"And you just let her go? What is wrong with you? She could be dead!" Pope hissed, an unexpected volume to his voice.

JJ could no longer sit and silently listen knowing that his friends were about to embark on another wild goose chase. You were there, mere feet away. This was their best opportunity to do something before anything else could happen to you.

Feeling that the dealer was sufficiently distracted, JJ decided to fully open the window and climb inside, struggling slightly with the old frame as he pushed it up. Once he was in, he instantly rushed to your side, gently shaking your shoulder in an attempt to wake you up again.

"Y/N it's me. We've got to go." He whispered, only getting a groan back from you.

Your hair was splayed messily around your face like the petals of a flower, making him think to the mornings he'd spent with you in the past. How he'd woken up beside you after a night of drinking and wanted to kiss you, but held himself back in fear that you would find it weird. That you would remind him that you were only friends with the occasional benefit. That you'd laugh in his face. If only he'd known how wrong he was.

Perhaps he didn't deserve you, but if being by yourself meant that you were going to do this to yourself... he would have to fight until the end of the earth to be with you.

In that moment, he regretted so many of his past actions. From the random girls he'd kissed in front of you to his recent rejection of you, he knew that once you were safe and awake he would do anything and everything to take it all back.

You would be his. No one else's... This could never happen again. No one other than him would touch you. He wouldn't allow it.

He looked around the room in a panic, picking up your shirt from the floor and lifting your head so that he could pull it over your body. Your body weight was resisting his actions, dead and heavy, but when he found your underwear and started to pull them up your legs, you finally flinched awake - even if it was only slightly.

"No Barry. Not again." You mumbled, lifting your leg to kick him away.

"It's me - JJ. We're gonna get you out of here." He said quietly, pulling your panties up so that you were covered and then slipping his arms underneath you to hoist you up bridal style.

Your eyes shot open at the sound of his voice, your heart jumping into your throat.

"JJ?" You whimpered, struggling to keep your eyes open.

"It's me baby. It's me." He repeated in a hushed tone. "You're safe now."

Then he heard the sound of the van starting outside and knew that he had to be faster. He looked around the room for a weapon and was pleased when he spotted a shotgun leant against the wardrobe, an idea springing into his head. He quickly put you back down on the bed.

"No. No. Don't leave me." You choked out, your breathing becoming rapid with panic. It broke JJ's heart to hear.

"I'll be two seconds. I promise you'll be okay." He mustered the softest tone that he could, stroking your face and placing a delicate kiss on your forehead before picking up the gun and charging out of the room.

As soon as you were out of his sight, his bubbling anger returned. No longer would he be able to put on a calm front, that time had ran out. Adrenaline coursed through his veins and his skin went hot again, thinking of the vile words he'd overheard.

He pumped the gun one time, making sure it was loaded, and then slammed open the front door, quickly drawing the attention of the bickering degenerates outside. John B also quickly noticed his friend too, instantly stopping the Twinkie from reversing and jumping out again as he watched JJ in disbelief. The scene moved so quickly that none of the Pogue's were able to immediately process it.

With a cry of anger, JJ lifted the gun above his shoulder and then slammed the butt of it as hard as he could into Barry's head, knocking him out instantly. The dealer fell to the ground and dropped his own gun, and before Rafe could reach for it, JJ pressed the barrel to his chest. Rafe held his hands up in nervous surrender, though it didn't mean much.

"I should fucking kill you both!" JJ shouted. "You fucking piece of shit. You like girls when they're passed out? Huh? You like girls that can't say no?"

"Woah man. Chill. I didn't touch her." Rafe tried to calm him down, his eyes wide with fright. "It was all Barry. I just got here!"

At the realisation of what JJ had alluded to, the three other Pogues ran to join in the confrontation again. They felt sick at the idea that you might've been hurt - especially by two such unsavoury characters.

"Where is she?" Kie shouted, throwing punches into Rafe's side whilst Pope picked up Barry's pistol from the floor and kicked his body a few times.

"Inside." JJ answered through gritted teeth, staring Rafe down and struggling to not pull the trigger. "Tell me why I shouldn't kill you."

Rafe stumbled for a moment, swallowing before he collected himself and answered confidently "I didn't even touch her. Kill me and you’re going away for life! There’s not gonna be any of my DNA on Y/N, I can promise that! I’m not into passed out chicks. That’s all Barry.”

JJ didn’t move for a second, thinking on the boys words before lowering the gun slightly. He would make him suffer another time. In that moment, Barry deserved his attention much more.

"Get the fuck out of here." JJ eventually hissed.

Rafe did exactly that, backing away quickly to his truck and speeding off. The blonde turned his attention to Barry now, who was groaning as he slowly arose from the ground. Without hesitation, JJ bent down to his level and started to throw punches, blinded by fury and bloodlust. His nose cracked first, then his cheekbone, then his eye socket. JJ didn't know how long he'd been attacking him for when he felt John B's touch on his shoulder and heard his voice in his ear. The brunette had found you in the house and lifted you into the Twinkie during JJ’s raging, stood and watched for a moment and then decided to stop his friend, worried for your welfare despite enjoying the show very much.

"Come on JJ, that's enough."

Barry's face was an unrecognisable bloody mess, but he couldn't stop.

"J, you're gonna kill him."

That didn't matter.

"We need to get Y/N out of here. Let's go!"

The sound of your name did halt him. His knuckles were bruised and his chest was panting.

"He raped her, John B. She was passed out in there and naked when I found her!" He turned to his friend with a desperate expression. "We need to kill him."

"I know, I know. But he's not worth the prison sentence, J." John B struggled to bite back his own rage but managed to do so, speaking in a soft tone as he tried to calm his friend. "We'll make him suffer, don't you worry. But right now we need to go."

The blonde boy finally nodded in agreement, feeling somewhat dizzy from the adrenaline as he stood up and made his way to the Twinkie. Once he saw you inside, your half dressed body curled up on Kie's lap as you cried, the guilt came back to him in an agonising gut punch.

"This entire thing had been practically all his fault." Was all he could think. "From the relapse to this. He'd fucked you up without even trying."

He ignored his friends shouts as he paced back to his bike and said nothing as he rode off, deciding that he would go to a bar and drink his thoughts away for the night. As John B had said; it wasn't worth getting a prison sentence for murder, but that didn't mean he couldn't find some other random people to fight.

Hiiii I hope y’all enjoyed. I might make a part 4 depending on feedback. Stay safe!!

[marlynnofmany]

At Home in the Mud

“Hey Wio, does your hover stool work over mud?” I asked from the door to the cockpit.

“Not deep mud,” Wio said, glancing at me with her tentacles at work on the controls. “The sensors feel for solid ground.”

“Dang.” I sighed. “Guess I’m stuck with cleaning the exo suit after this delivery.”

“Yeah, sorry,” she said. “There are fresh batteries for the gravity wands, at least. Shouldn’t take you too long.”

Zhee stalked past me, his many bug feet clicking in what was probably irritation. He didn’t say anything, and neither did I, at least until he was out of earshot in the direction of the cargo bay.

I whispered to Wio, “And at least I only have two legs to clean.”

“Good point,” she agreed. “Best of luck!”

I thanked her and headed off after Zhee to where the exo suits waited. He had a head start in getting his on, which he needed. I tried not to draw attention to how easily I tugged mine on over my regular clothes (minus the shoes). Zhee didn’t even take the opportunity to make fun of my need for footwear; he seemed determined to get this delivery over with as quickly as possible.

He said, “Be sure to hold on to the hoversled so you don’t fall and slow us down.”

“Sure thing,” I agreed. I’d planned to keep a solid grip anyway. Hopefully this mud wasn’t the foot-sucking kind.

The ship landed gently — or rather, arrived. There was no landing pad close enough to our client’s location, at least none above the mud at this time of year, so Wio held the ship just above the surface on stable thrusters. The ramp nearly touched the mud.

Captain Sunlight had come in to see us off, and she stood to the side as we hustled down the ramp. “Be quick but careful!” she told us.

Zhee replied, “That’s the plan.”

I freed a hand to wave, then grabbed the edge of our most reliable hoversled. I would have liked to ride on it next to the cases of medical supplies (low priority, not urgent, thankfully), but that wouldn’t have been fair to Zhee. So I did my share of pushing and stepped cautiously into the mud.

Whew, I thought. More watery than thick. I can walk in this. And it was cold, but the exo suit did a decent job of insulating for temperature. I took in the sights more confidently, appreciating the fuzzy moss on all the trees, and the intricate shapes that the bushes grew in. It didn’t quite look like an Earth swamp, but it didn’t look hostile, and that was all I could ask for, really.

Behind us, the ship closed the bay door and lifted up to a more comfortable height to wait. Zhee, with a better view of the screen on the front of the sled, pointed with a pincher arm. We changed direction slightly and trudged through the mud.

The depth changed a few times in quick succession, going from ankle deep to above the knee and back. I did my best to maintain a careful speed, though it was tricky since I couldn’t see the bottom. Zhee seemed to be doing fine. I held onto the sled and took long strides, feeling the way with one foot before trusting my weight to it. Thicker lumps and rocks lurked along the uneven ground. I focused on stepping between them without losing my balance, trusting Zhee to keep us on track.

“Scenic,” I commented to break the monotony of silence and my own breathing inside the helmet.

“Wet,” Zhee replied.

“Scenic and wet.” I glanced up at the mossy trees, then back down at the watery mud. Muddy water? Somewhere in between. “Not the easiest place to walk, though.”

“The captain could have chosen Blip and Blop for this delivery,” Zhee griped. “But no, they’re busy helping Eggskin prepare some complicated food.”

“And Paint wouldn’t be up for this temperature,” I said as I stepped into deeper water that chilled me to my thighs. “Or this depth, really.”

“Paint misses out on a lot of unpleasant environments. Lucky.”

I looked over at him across the pile of strapped-down cases. “Only because she’d pass out and die if she got too cold. I don’t know if I’d call that lucky.”

Zhee tapped an antenna against the inside of his helmet. “Bah. Today, she’s lucky to be coldblooded. We’re stuck with this instead.”

I mentally ran down the roster of our other crewmates. Some of them, like Wio, had other jobs to be doing. “I suppose Mur wouldn’t have an easy time in something this deep either.” I didn’t even know if he could swim. Looking like a squid didn’t necessarily translate.

“No one is likely to have an easy time in this,” Zhee said, shaking a foreleg and splattering watery mud across a tree trunk. “I can’t imagine why the client chose to live here.”

“Maybe they like mud,” I said, trying to watch my feet even though I couldn’t see them.

“They are welcome to it. I look forward to getting back to the ship.”

I was in agreement about that. The info summary about this location had said it was the wet season (Really? Shocking) and that the regular roadways were unavailable. I was under the impression that there was a town somewhere nearby, or at least other people than just the one, but all I could see was endless swamp.

With rocks and the occasional tree root just waiting to trip me. I focused on stepping carefully and trying not to slow our progress.

Concentrating as I was, I didn’t realize we’d arrived until Zhee tugged the sled to the side. I looked up to find the first dry ground I’d seen rising out of the mud into a walkway of flat paving stones. A round stone house perched at the top of the rise.

We slogged up to leave an interesting set of footprints along the walkway: my left/right muddy bootprints and Zhee’s collection of much smaller splats. With the hoversled between us, it looked like this house was getting two visitors interested in staying as far away from each other as possible, instead of a single delivery.

When we got close, a chorus of tiny squeaks started up. I located the source: a small cage hanging beside the door, which held a handful of cricket-sized whatevers. While Zhee found what passed for a doorbell, I took a surreptitious look. They were small and blobby, not mini near-cousins of his, which was definitely for the best.

“Delivery!” Zhee announced while a chime jangled.

Various bumps and a muffled voice sounded from inside, then our avian client opened the door eagerly. “Thank you for coming!” he said in the same trade language we were using, just with the distinct quackity overtones of his particular species. His dark feathers were flecked with white and he kept his arms folded as if they were wings. He said earnestly, “I hope it wasn’t too long of a walk.”

“It was fine,” Zhee said. “Would you like your packages unloaded right here?”

“Oh! Ahmm…” the ducky fellow looked indecisively between the stack of boxes, the paving stones, and the indoors.

I said, “We could carry them in for you, but we’d track in a bit of mud.” The sled was much too wide to fit through the door.

“That’s all right; I’ll move them,” he decided. “Out here is fine. Now where should I—? Yes, thank you.” He took the payment screen from Zhee and signed for the delivery while I undid the straps holding everything down. We didn’t always bother with those, but I was starting to think we should. If I’d managed to trip and knock a box into the mud, that would have been an embarrassing bad mark on our record.

While we unloaded the boxes, those little whatsits serenaded us with a fresh chorus of squeaky chirps. It reminded me of tame finches with just a touch of guinea pig. I wondered if this was the local version of a windchime or something else.

The client saw me staring and said, “My dear little Cozy went missing, and these are his favorite food. I’m hoping to lure him back. You haven’t seen him, have you? A young cuddlebeast about this big, with a white stripe on his head?” He held clawed hands a few inches apart.

“Sorry, no,” I said with a look at Zhee. “I didn’t see any beasts at all. Did you?”

“No,” Zhee agreed. “Just mud.”

The client ruffled his feathers in a way I didn’t know how to read; maybe he was embarrassed. “They did tell me he’s suited to living in this environment, and he might not return if I let him out, but I haven’t given up hope. My home is nice and warm, after all.”

“We’ll keep an eye out on the walk back,” I told him. “Does he come when he’s called?”

“He always did when he was inside the house,” the guy said. “Cozy! Cozyyy!” He waited for a moment, then looked down. “He loves his cuddles. I hope nothing bad has happened to him.”

Zhee set down the last box. “You’ve done what you can,” he assured the client, sounding like he might have even meant it.

“I suppose so.” The ducky guy looked sad for a moment, then rallied. “Well, thank you again! I don’t want to keep you. Safe travels!”

We bid him goodbye and headed back down into the mud, with me waving goodbye and Zhee trying to make good time. The client went back into his house and I focused on taking long strides again.

We went slightly to the side of the route we’d taken before. The mud was much lumpier here, with herds of round rocks that rolled around and made the footing treacherous. Despite my death grip on the sled, I was nearly swimming at a couple points in an effort to keep up. The muddy water was deep enough to swim in, but not consistently so, otherwise I might have given up and started paddling.

I had just decided to ask Zhee to slow down when I lost my footing completely and went under, holding my breath in panic before I remembered the exo suit covered my head. I got my feet under me by kicking lumps out of the way and I stood in the waist-high mud, wiping futilely at the dirty face mask.

Zhee sighed audibly and stopped walking. “Really?”

“It’s hard to find somewhere solid to step!” I exclaimed. “There are rocks and lumps of mud everywhere!” I scooped one up to prove my point, ending up with what looked like a potato. “Huh. That’s too light to be a rock. Tuber?”

“Fascinating,” Zhee said drily.

“It reminds me of an Earth food, but those don’t grow in swamps,” I said, giving it a closer look.

“Do not bring it back to the ship for eating,” Zhee said sternly.

“I wasn’t going to!” I protested.

“Good. It’s probably horribly smelly and liable to poison half the crew.”

I started to protest more, just on principle, then the potato opened an eye and I dropped it. “Ah!”

“What?”

“It’s a creature!” I shuffled in place, feeling more potato-like shapes bump against my ankles in the cold watery mud. “Are these all animals??”

“Ugh,” Zhee declared, lifting a couple exo suited legs out of the murk on his side of the hoversled. “What an unpleasant choice of environmental niches.”

I was thinking fast. “Wait, these could be like toads. It’s cold right now; maybe they’re hibernating. Hey, do you know what a ‘cuddlebeast’ actually looks like?”

“Not a clue. That’s your area of expertise.” Zhee gave me a look through the domes over his faceted eyes. “Do these things look especially cuddleable to you?”

“I don’t know, maybe.” I felt around gingerly for another one, hoping they didn’t have sharp teeth to use on people who interrupted their hibernation. “But that would explain why Cozy never came back, if he’s out here dozing with his distant family.”

“Well I’m sure he’s very happy if so,” Zhee said, stepping forward. “Let’s be off.”

“Wait, lemme try something first.” I put a hand on the sled as it eased past, but did my best impression of the squeaks that the food animals had made earlier. Cute little questioning sounds, like they were curious.

“If that didn’t work close to the house, it’s unlikely to work out here,” Zhee said. But he stopped again.

“It’s worth a shot,” I said. “Cozy! Cozyyy!” Then I squeaked some more.

“What a surprise; nothing. Now let’s—” Zhee flinched when something by his hind leg croaked.

“Cozy!” I said with a grin, ducking to look under the hoversled. “Here, boy!” Something potato-like with big eyes and a distinct pale swatch on the top was treading water in the murk.

Zhee stepped fastidiously to higher ground. “I can’t believe you found it.”

“Yup,” I said, testing my footing. “Now I just have to catch it.”

“As long as you keep your mud to yourself.”

“No promises,” I said, making the first lunge of many and only splashing a little.

~~~

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

[lets-try-some-writing]

Finally bunkering down to get into the TF1 fic department. I've got a nice simple one shot I'm cooking up for all of you to ease into this new continuity. No promises on when it will be done considering I've got irl crap to deal with, but here's the title and a snippet.

Sometimes Apologizing Is Enough

“Why can’t I go instead? I can do it. I can land the killing blow.” Bee, in all his eternal empathy, stepped up to Prowl and gestured to where Optimus was already strapped down. Optimus wished he could confidently dismiss the unspoken fears of those present. He wished he did not still have an aching pit in his spark where youthful yearnings urged him to use this chance for selfish reasons. Yet, he knew what his wistful dreams desired. He was going to struggle with what was to come during his final act as Prime.

“No, I will not have you do this, Bee. If I kill D-16, it will look like a crime of passion. While Orion Pax will grieve, it will pass as all things do.” Optimus could only shake his helm from his place hooked up to countless wires he was unable to trace or identify. Bee went quiet at his gentle retort, his friend’s optics widening in disbelief as Optimus continued.

“But if you do it. If you strike him down on my behalf… Orion will never let you escape. It is very possible that he- I could become just as great of a threat if pushed to act.” Bee winced, a fact Optimus noted with a soft sigh. It was distant history for him, but once he was rambunctious, eager and filled with passion. If Bee went back and did what had to be done, there was a very good chance Orion Pax could take up the mantle Megatron held in their current reality.

It could not be allowed.

“I’m willing to die if it means my friends will live.” Bee’s retort was faint, filled with static from old injuries poorly healed. Optimus’s gaze softened seeing the distress on his friend’s face. Bee was always nobler than him when it came to sacrifice. Where his dear friend was willing to offer everything for the sake of their freedom, Optimus was unable to let go of one mech who was, for all intents and purposes, long dead.

“That is noble, but the point remains. It must be me, or else my younger counterpart is bound to react unpredictably, whereas you and Elita are unlikely to lose yourselves if the crime appears to be accidental.” Again, he restated his point. He tried to smile to ease Bee’s concerns, but it did little. The former scout looked a moment away from breaking down as he pressed a servo to the glass separating them, his expression pulled taut in grief.

“Can you really do it though? You’ve always had a soft spot for Dee, even though we all know what he is now.” Optimus could not help the pang of guilt that flooded his processor at the critique, but he took it in stride. There was no point lying now.

“There is nothing I can say to ease your worries entirely, my friend. I am incapable of denying the lingering attachment to the one I once called brother.” Optimus’s voice rose above the faint hum of the machinery around him, hopefully reaching the audials of all those present to witness his last march.

“However, I promise you that I will do everything in my power to ensure this reality does not repeat itself a second time.” The promise came easily, and unlike the countless others made during their long war, this one did not burden him with guilt. It was an oath he’d taken long ago, in the silence of his quarters when the plan to change history was presented. To utter it aloud merely made it tangible, like a brand on his spark.

“Good. Or else I’m going back next time and I’ll beat both you and Dee up.” Bee, bless his spark, tried to lighten the mood with a weak chuckle. Optimus returned the gesture, despite being well aware it was a useless effort.

“I look forward to a future free of your wrath.” His faint jest was drowned out by the sound of the machine growing louder, a sign of impending activation. Optimus tried his very best to relax against the freezing surface of the berth he was strapped to. The cords and wires itched, but he dared not so much as squirm, much less consider just how badly this could go as he gave his confirmation.

[doodler16]

Big rant because making a critical account for my yapping is a stressful path I won't take, very sorry. You are brave. Feel free to delete if this is all too much, I am Literally just the frustrated yapper

Helluva has been Super Disappointing for me and as a result I've been leaning more for the critical side. Issues I have feel addressed and pointed out Sometimes in this end of the field. But I do read fans with more "positive critique" to make sure I have a full plate of Helluva Analysis.

And it's very frustrating. Which is what helluva boss encompasses tbh, being frustrating. I'm aware I'm not going to agree with every person I see, obviously. But I just can't find a positive critique that I DO even slightly agree with, and it's frustrating! I love when people enjoy things that I don't, it fills me with this joy about the beauty of people and our differences. But I also like UNDERSTANDING! And I don't! They talk about things they say are "so obviously portrayed in the story" and I don't see it!

I mostly look up Stella opinions so this is where my experience with this comes from. Opinions on her from the positive people are so inconsistent it adds to my confusion. "She has character! You need to see Stella as more than just a idiotic bitchy ex wife! She's been manipulating Octavia against Stolas! She's Mother Gothel! Her abusive character is actually well done and researched." Where are you getting that from, when has Stella ever done that, what are you talking about, It would be NICE if she was but that isn't there it's literally not there, she's mean and wants Stolas to die but then Andrealphus appears and takes care of the rest of it. Then on the opposite side of the same positive analysis:

"It's fine that Stella is a flat character! Hellooooo, Disney villains? She doesn't need to be built, it would bloat the show." It would bloat the show??? It's fine to have a FLAT supposedly Main Villain in our RICH CHARACTER DRIVEN show????? And so she IS flat, you agree she's flat??? Then it shouldn't be a problem if someone wished she was a fuller character, feels like she isn't a threat to anybody for her flatness, and that the role that should've been hers was handed off to a suddenly appearing Male Character? Who was given more personality and motive than her mind you!

"It's commentary on the society. The male character overtakes hers because she's a pawn for high society, the one that hurt her and Stolas" how did we get here, I'm positive that isn't the writer's intent what-

"Stella isn't a character she's symbolism for the cruelty of the society that forced this marriage, do you lack media literacy? This is obvious." What are ANY of you people talking about!!!!!!!

"the show isn't even over. They could build Stella next season and you're having an issue with arcs that aren't finished yet." [Blows this one up with my mind before this gets Any Longer]

What am I missing that's so obvious that everyone else is seeing?? I see wasted potential and they're telling me it's not and then explain the a made up playground game. Then when I don't get what they just drew in the sand I'M the idiot with no media literacy?? It's not even that I'm upset that "helluva boss didn't do what I personally wanted so I think it's bad.", I don't know what it IS doing to make people see it as GOOD!!!? Pulling my hair,,, frustrating. Helluva Boss and it's positive analysis or "critical crushers" is frustrating I want to understand but I don't,,aghhhh

💀 Reading this made me realize, I barely talk about Stella. Yeah Anon, Helluva Boss can be frustrating at times especially with the plot holes. I think the main problem with Stella is the lack of attention she gets in the show and we the audience don’t know much about her besides Stella throwing tea parties and being a Stolas hater. So people create head canons about her to fill in the gap.

The worst part is that the things you listed above can make Stella so much more interesting. Hopefully, Stella does something worthwhile or actually takes the lead in season 3. Because for most of Season 2, Andreaplus was doing the planning, fighting, and scheming instead of Stella, the one is affected most by Stolas.

[nightcoreandspite]

Pickup From a Suicide Mission

Nikolai and Price had known of each other when the latter came to rescue Nik. They weren’t best friends, but they held respect for each other for their job. As they worked together under the 141 to take down Makarov, they understood each other better, leading to a friendship of some sort.

Nikolai admired the fact Price didn’t give a shit about what he was ‘supposed’ to do if doing that endangered his men. He worked as hard as he could to accomplish the missions he was sent out on, and made sure he accomplished the goal.

Price just like the fact Nikolai actually fueled his goddamn helo. While other pilots he worked with often had short pickup windows because of fuel trouble, Nik wouldn’t complain short of RPG fire and raging sandstorms. It’s why Price trusted him with this mission.

“I’ll wait for you at the exfil point. Three hours.” They were going in with a plan and a vengence. They’d be done soon.

“Don’t bother. This was a one way flight, mate.”

Nikolai rolled his eyes, but nodded as Price and MacTavish exited the helo.

“Then good luck my friend. Thank God.” Nikolai wasn’t happy about the fact Price thought this was a suicide mission. He was better than that. But, he was happy that he now had an excuse to go fuel up. Since he technically wasn’t on the clock, there weren’t the finicky rules to deal with for when or where he was supposed to wait for exfil.

Nikolai flew off for a while, until he got back to where they’d flown in from. He made sure he had the fuel he needed, and then some, because he knew something would go to shit in this mission; it always did.

Seeing it had been an hour and a half, he set out for exfil. Hopefully the two left of the 141 made it there. Not that they’d get killed, Nikolai wasn’t worried about that, he swears. Instead, just worried that they wouldn't go to that exfil point since they technically weren’t planning on it.

When he finally flies over, he almost thinks they aren’t there. But, he finally spots the two, and a dead Shephard. Nikolai lands perhaps faster than advised, but there’s a lot of blood, and he can’t tell if one of them is bleeding out.

“It’ll hold for now. Come on, get up!” He heard Price yell just outside the helo. MacTavish must’ve been the one hit.

He hears a body slump hard onto the floor, and Price’s voice now closer to the cockpit. “I thought I told you this was a one-way trip!”

“Looks like it still is…they’ll be looking for us you know…” Nikolai says us because he’s part of the 141, even if not legally, even if it’s disavowed and the only two remaining members are considered war criminals.

They both turn when they hear MacTavish slump further, groaning.

“Nikolai, we gotta get Soap outta here…”

“Alright. I know a place.”

[teddywesworl]

ok elaborating on this. trying to explain what i mean by a cipher. because it's about tone and genre expectations, but it's also more than that.

your first paragraph (or two) is the framework through which the rest of the work is interpreted. consider:

these four lines of text provide the following information:

this is an "Illario forgiven" fic

Lucanis and Spite have been arguing about this decision, but

"pieces are moving into place," i.e. there is a plan afoot which Spite is allowing to proceed without resistance out of respect, but

other Crows are causing trouble in a way that tells Lucanis they don't respect him.

the scene is set. however, this information leaves us with the following questions:

why did this version of Lucanis forgive Illario?

what plan is afoot? what pieces are moving into place?

which Crows are causing trouble? and how?

and these questions are the basis for the rest of the fic. if you are reading at all closely, you will have them in the back of your mind from the very start. you will be waiting for answers. you will, hopefully, be looking for answers before they are explicitly revealed. you may even clue in to the idea that each question may be answered in more than one way, and some answers may only be implied. the important thing is that a skilled reader is primed to look.

the 'cipher' here, the key that you are being asked to use to decode the rest of the story, is the very presence of unanswered questions about action and plot.

this is an appropriate cipher for this fic, which is structured like a heist or an intrigue. think of the way heists are often intercut in ways that withhold information in a way that is immensely satisfying to watch when the information is eventually revealed.

consider:

this opener presents, in some ways, a much simpler cipher. the first sentence is a classic "hook," a snappy little one-liner which is then expounded upon in the following paragraph. questions are left unanswered (who was that guy? and what exactly did he do to 17 year old ashur?), but they are questions about character beats, and they land differently.

the point of this opener is less to ask questions and more to provide an emotional foundation for everything that follows. this is the story of a man who has been hurt in a very specific way. this wound will affect the way he acts and the emotional catharsis he achieves for the rest of the story. this single paragraph is the key to understanding this specific character. you will get more out of the story if you hold this paragraph in your mind throughout.

this is an appropriate cipher for a slow-paced character study with less focus on plot and more on emotional beats. think of a prestige drama that starts with a prologue that might feel disconnected from the main storyline, until the story progresses and characters reveal more of themselves.

consider:

this is a heavy worldbuilding opener, which can be appropriate for dense high fantasy if there's a good enough reason to provide that information from the jump. do we need this info right now? is this info useful context to interpret what follows?

without spoiling my entire novel, the most important sentence in this paragraph is the last one: "There was no written record to corroborate such a claim, only the oral tradition of the local grandmothers."

that's the cipher; that's the key to understanding everything that follows. i want you reading this novel with the knowledge in the back of your mind that a conquered people has an oral tradition which is in conflict with written records.

these are obviously just three examples, and there are uncountable ways to effectively begin a story. But: that first paragraph establishes much more than you may realize, and it colors your reader's interpretation of everything after it. Take advantage of that opportunity to say something about the story you're writing and put up some damn set dressing. peace and love

honestly the most life changing bit of writing technique i've applied to my work in the last few years is: first paragraph as thesis statement. or maybe first paragraph as cipher? or lens? in any case, the very first paragraph (or page, or chapter) has the power to prime the reader to interpret the rest of the work in a certain way, with an eye out for certain elements.

likewise, if you are a skilled reader, you can pull a lot of information out of a well-crafted first paragraph, and you can take that information with you as you engage with the rest of the story.

this is why it drives me sort of insane now when a story starts with dialogue or a character waking up in the morning or similar. experienced writers harp on about the importance of the first sentence as a hook to get the reader invested, but it's just as much about (hello sorry im obsessed with the psychology of storytelling) influencing the way the reader engages with everything that comes after it

anyway happy wip wednesday here's the beginning of first talon lucanis fic

and the beginning of the ashur pov companion to other masks

and the first paragraph of the novel (im not fully 100% sold on this one but it sure does provide the cipher)

call this an invitation to post first paragraphs for wip wednesday, if you wannaaaa

[rosettyller]

one thing I love about the recent specials is the character of shaun Temple, and in turn what this reflects about Donna's characterisation, and showing how RTD understands her (she is his character) so much better than Moffat (who is a sexist, classist wanker, so no surprise).

The two vastly differing understandings of Donna are reflected through Donna's Happy Ending Husbands, Shaun and the one from silence in the library I will refer to as Bob, because I can't even remember if he has a name.

(disclaimer that i haven't watched silence in the library for a couple of years)

We don't see much of either of them, but it's clear Shaun is a good guy. He loves and supports Donna (and Rose!). He values her opinion.

Now, Bob. No hate on Bob, I'm sure he's a great guy too. Lots of hate on Moffat, though. He portrays Donna's ideal life as married to a guy who can't talk, so she can talk over him, never shut up, because she's always talking, having a go at someone, and now she's happy with a husband and kids who can't tell her to shut up.

This is just such a massive misunderstanding of Donna, and it annoys me so much.

There's this quote from series 4, along the lines of Donna "shouting at the world because no one's listen", which I think summarises it quite nicely. She's a temp, and no one gets her coffee. Lance wasn't particularly nice to her. For the first 30-odd years of her life, her mother was constantly nagging her, chipping away at her self esteem. The whole idea of Donna thinking she's no one is so prevelant in both the Runaway Bride and s4.

She shouts at the world because otherwise it doesn't listen to her at all, because she has to fight to be appreciated and valued, and even then, pre-s4, she still isn't listened to.

And Shaun listens to her and actually values her and what she has to say, instead of being unable to stop her talking constantly, enforcing her thoughts on everyone and not at all considering of what other people might want to say.

[ettadunham]

sometimes i remember the hunger games and how nobody actually paid attention to what was in those books

[axolotlclown]

My pig drama

So my neighbors acquired a miniature pig. I am unsure how exactly they acquired this pig. I was told the pig would die otherwise if our neighbors did not take in this pig. Notably, we live in the suburbs. Not particularly wealthy suburbs. This pig does not have much space.

But the pig was fed and watered, so we didn't snitch. The pig was happy enough. They had a sort of shelter for her from the heat (it gets over 100⁰ regularly in the summer)(we also get tornadoes and hail and misery).

Anyway, my neighbors moved. They had been planning on moving for a few years and had been getting ready to move for over a year.

The mother in the house is a self-described "animal lover" and abandoned this fucking pig. They took the little shelter and left the pig. There's an extra fence panel leaning against the fence line that the pig has been sheltering in. I'm so pissed.

Anyway, my mom and I have been feeding and watering this pig. We're limited by the fence between our yards, so we've been feeding the pig apples, oranges, carrots, etc. We've been trying to find a home for this pig and have been unsuccessful.

Now, one day she did get out. Another neighbor saw her wandering the streets and called animal control. Animals over 200lbs are illegal in my city (which would include a pig). The city said they have two weeks to get rid of the pig or they will take her. That was three months ago.

Today was my breaking point. It was absolutely pissing rain. Wind gusts blowing in the streets, flood warnings, we probably got well over 10" of rain. It's still raining out there. The pig was trying to shelter under this shitty fence panel from the rain. I was out there feeding her, knowing that what I was feeding her wasn't enough. But we can't exactly throw pig feed over the fence and oranges are expensive. She's been losing weight. She just can't stay there.

So if somebody can take a pig or knows somebody that can take a pig (that does not live in the fucking suburbs. we're not doing this again), please let me know. Or if you have any tips about how I can find her a good home. Her name is Mavis. She's a miniature pig. I don't really have any good pictures of her because of the fence, but I can try. She's very sweet. She comes running when you call for her. I don't know how she does with other pigs, but my neighbors did have dogs (and mean dogs too)(actually those dogs were probably neglected too but that's for another time). She did well with the dogs, is the point.

I just don't get how someone can claim to love animals and then abandon them when they become inconvenient. They had plenty of time to find her a home. My mom has been thinking about just taking Mavis, but I don't think we can give her a much better life.

The husband comes over every now and then. I'm not really sure what he does with the house. I imagine he's getting it ready to sell, but it's been over a year and it's still a mess. He's not feeding her or filling her water bowl. I feel like I'm going fucking crazy.

[mayo-is-an-instrument]

I made a boo oc!! I'll make more drawings to use them for when I start making "serious" YouTube videos :3

[todayisafridaynight]

OH about the finale at the shrine, this completely slipped my notice when we were talking about it, but Ichi says he's "reporting" Jo's verdict to both Arakawa and Masato. It's just not translated that way.

Not too big of a difference (well, it is to me, but I'm insane), but if it was highlighting anything, I'd guess it's probably Masato's change of heart. It would've been fair for Ichi to assume Masato wouldn't care and only "report" to Arakawa, but in the context of Ichi doing his damnedest to show Masato they all love him, it works in terms of, "Maybe I made him reconsider, and maybe now he would care."

Also... I'm looking at it in a "measured" way, since the chapter trophies are always just standard "Nth Chapter Cleared" messages that the localization team just spices up for us, but there's something I find really poignant about the Chapter 13 trophy being worded as "Fate of Our Fathers." The pluralization of both the noun and pronoun. Realizations that come too late.

Of course, Masato definitely didn't "know" and had no real reason to suspect it, but the Arakawas have this bizarre subconscious almost-psychic link. So even if he doesn't really think so, there's this sense that Ichi "might as well" be Arakawa's "real" son because they're so much more alike. And maaaybe he felt that way about Jo and himself at one point, because (as we've discussed) there has to be a reason Jo was Masato's "favorite."

[Follow up to this ask]

[giantkillerjack]

Thank you, younger me, for drawing so many things in which the lines were never quite right. It is quite literally the only reason I ever figured out how to get them right.