#semi happy ending

[haajenn]

I am reviving this old account and posting my art on here again. Hello! It's good to be home!

[missthrxn]

I mean I don't know no other ending....was there another ending?

Also Hedwig's alive fyi

fixed it

[cockybitch11]

Would yall read it if I posted one of my project books on here. I will write little short stories about them if you guys want me too but I just can't publish it yet so I might put it on here

[k1mbe3rly]

OK WE NEED A PART 3 OH THE SE-MI ANGST EXCEPT THEY MAKE UP AND GET INTO A RELATIONSHIP AFTER LIKE ONE MORE ARGUMENT WHERE THEY REALIZE THEY BOTH JUST WANT EACH OTHER

anything for bbg, part 3 of that’s so true

Run my hands thru her short dark brown hair.

no warnings, LOWKEY kinda shorttt but it’s okay cause it’s a happy ending

After awhile, Se-mi managed to get the courage and follow you on instagram, she watched herself as her thumb pressed “Follow”, she figured if she reached out first it would mean something to you maybe?

But for you, you couldn’t stop thinking about her, you thought you had moved on for good but I guess your boyfriend was just a distraction sadly.

You thought about more than ever, why did she have to come to your job like that? what made her do that. You wish you could just restart everything as you got a notification, you grabbed your phone looking at it

“Se-mi started following you.”

You read as a small smile creaked up into your face but you quickly stopped remembering everything that had happened, you sighed as you clicked on the app debating to follow her back or not but without thinking you quickly followed her back, you groaned at yourself as you sulked in bed.

You closed your eyes thinking about everything until again another notification interrupted you, you looked at your phone once again as you quickly squealed out.

“Hey y/n..can we talk?”

Was all you read from your phone, she messaged you.. she actually messaged you, it’s crazy to think that SHE would reach out first.

You decided to be a little nonchalant and wait like 2 or 3 minutes before answering, you replied back with “Talk about what?” you simply texted her.

Not long after she sent you another message.

Se-mi: “About what happened, please?”

You: “I guess so..”

Se-mi: “Can we talk in person? I just feel like it’s better to do it in person.”

You: “Fine, where at?”

Se-mi: “My place? if not it’s fine we can always go in public”

You: “No it’s okay i’ll be there in a few”

She hearted your message, as you smiled and let out a breath of relief.

You quickly got up and tried to put something cute, you than drove to her house excitedly as you parked infront of it, but before you went in you took a deep breath making sure you had a nonchalant face not wanting to ruin your cold don’t act.

You knocked on her door as she opened it quickly, “You actually came..” She said with a slight smile, All you did was nod at her as she opened the door wider gesturing you to come in, you walked in everything still familiar.

“Uh let’s go to the couch, do you want a drink or something?” She said, “No i’m fine” you replied, “Uhh i have your favorite?” she smiled a bit at you hoping to cheer you up just a bit, “I’m good.” You said a bit coldly as she sighed a bit and nodded.

Yall went and sat down on her couch which was always comfy but yet you were not going to give in just yet.

“So what did you wanna talk about?” you told her looking at her for a bit.

“I just wanna talk about us..i wanna fix this”

“What is there to fix?” you said back still not breaking your cold act.

“I know what I did was wrong and i regret it.. i really do, and i’m really sorry..I guess I just wanted to act cool infront of..that girl. By embarrassing you and I take back every word I said.” she said boldly as she stared into your eyes.

You stared back at her your gaze softened at her apology wanting to forgive her but not yet.

“Se-mi, i don’t know if I could forgive yo-.” you begin speaking but before you could finish she quickly spoke again.

“I know it’s hard to forgive me but i really am sorry! You have to understand that ever since that day i’ve been thinking about you and I feel so terrible about what i told you and if I could i’ll take it all back! i just wanna start over with you.” she said, “Your honestly everything I want.. and I know i didn’t act like it before but you really are! that night when you confessed to me..i was in denial i really was! but after our second argument just something inside me snapped.. i’m not sure what or even how it happen but y/n..i like you!” she yelled out basically, not once she broke eye contact, this whole time she’s been saying all this, she’s been staring at you.

You were at lost of words as you kinda stared back, you felt your cheeks feel hot as a small shiver ran down your spine, you finally spoke up.

“You like me..?”

Se-mi quickly nodded as she scooted to you a bit more, “And if it’s okay..can i do something?” she said as you turned your head for a moment then looked at her and nodded.

She leaned her head towards yours and kissed you.

You were frozen, you didn’t kiss back or even close your eyes, you sat there feeling her lips on yours, honestly your dream since you probably first met her but you finally came back to your senses and quickly backed up leaving her a bit shocked as she looked at you and gave you a small distance.

“Se-mi..i have a.. boyfriend” you told her, “Fuck..right i forgot, im sorry-.” she said as you cut her off.

You kissed her, she was shocked at first but quickly melted into the kiss, her hands going to your cheeks and rubbing her thumb a bit, lips moving in sync as you finally pulled back, she smiled at you and put her forehead against yours.

“So i’ll take that as you still like me?” she whispered to you as you just nodded, “And your boyfriend?” she spoke again, you sighed “I’ll have to break up with him obviously..” you told her.

“I don’t wanna rush things but..would you maybeeee wanna be my girlfriend? obviously after you break up with him! i mean i totally understand if you want a break!” she said quickly, “Just shut up.. and yes, i’ll be your girlfriend after i break up with him” you told her as you smiled and giggled a bit, she laughed a bit and hugged you as you hugged her back.

And boom just like that, yall started dating.

[mollysunder]

I wonder how intentional it was for Jinx's grief in s2 to trample on Sevika's own, because it demonstrated how things haven't actually changed much between them. Obviously, mourning isn't a competition, but it's understood that we have shared practices like funerals to communally express grief for the dead, they're as much for the bereaved as they are for the deceased. When Jinx gave Silco a burial in the river, she denied Sevika a means to mourn and say goodbye.

Some could argue that Sevika's grief was tertiary to the actual story because she was secondary member of the cast. The audience doesn't need to know Sevika spent months living in Silco's office after his death working to keep Zaun together while in an alcoholic depression, which we only know because it was included in a minigame. However, it does create a feeling of horror when you remember that Jinx burned down the Last Drop in her own grief.

In the moment we see Jinx at her lowest, it's unknown to us the audience that Jinx was burning down Sevika's home in her self-destruction, but Jinx did know. The minigame showed that Jinx knew Sevika was living in Silco's office up until the end of Act 2 at least, and still she burned her and Sevika's home, the last place Sevika and Silco ever saw eachother.

Doesn't that revelation shed a new light to the finale? The fire that consumed The Last Drop now feels so similar to the fire that surrounded Sevika and Jinx as the Progress Day shipment of shimmer was destroyed. In either situation Jinx wasn't thinking about Sevika, and in the face of a greater cause Sevika has to swallow it to deal with the crisis at hand. Maybe if we saw how Jinx and Sevika came to their final understanding before the big battle we could see how things changed, but we didn't. Despite the attempt to have the two characters reconcile the overall pattern between these two persists.

[intrepid-mystic-bindery]

I did a bind of all the bright places by @phantomphaeton and I'm pleased to announce that it is finished just in the nick of time to still be a 2024 bind! This was my first time using Affinity Publisher and boy howdy did we go round and round, but we got there in the end. 😮‍💨

As always I did an author copy, and as always I messed up the casing on one of them. Ah well. Live and learn? 🤷‍♀️

The idea behind the cover was for it to be Edwina's true colors being revealed by the tearing of the pink dresses she wore during her season. I couldn't get the pink to tear the way I wanted it to so a friend helped me come up with tearing the decorative paper instead. I think it turned out fabulously!

The end paper was beautiful but almost like cloth so I mildly panicked each time I had to glue it. I nabbed the chapter art from a book in the public domain, and let me tell you it was a ride trying to get all the chapter titles and subheadings in there. 😅

I'm super proud of the title page. I got a screenshot of the bangle falling during the wedding and it looks so good. 😭

For the half title page I tried my hand at a two page spread incorporating the chandelier, beach, and mango tree mentioned as some of Edwina's "bright places."

I love this fic so much and I was bound (hehe) and determined to cram as much symbolism as I could. Even the chapter pages are somewhat in reference to Friedrich saying he could walk forever in a garden full of thoughts of Edwina.

This is a beautiful fic, it was such a fun bind, and I have to shout out @purplephloxpress for the collab on the cover. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't given me this idea!

Phantom, dm me with details on mailing to you when you have them!

[trappedinacomputer]

With everything happening recently I've been thinking more about !Bad

he's so fucked up, he was thrown out of the only home he's ever known and the only home he was ever meant to be in, for what? because he was too curious? because he loved the things he watched be created a little too much? because God himself decided he was only worthy of causing destruction and chaos? He was literally and angel and IS literally an angel with so much religious trauma that he thinks the only way to show something love is to destroy it because that's all that's ever been taught to him.

And with more talks about his mission I can't help but think about my theory for what his mission here is: I believe his mission is to bring the part of his soul that was left in Purgatory, the part that's still soul infected, that's surrounded in sculk, that is all his rage and malice and resentment and blood-thirst, to the Cathedral so that he can kill it. His one chance to prove to Heaven that he truly is worthy of their forgiveness and that he can return to his kids once again.

Currently my two ideas for this is: he kills this part of his soul and the memories of what heaven stands for and their morals are brought back to him, the Heavens are pleased and he is let into the pearly gates once again to reunite with his children and all the mortals he's loved in his extremely long lifespan OR (the one I am hoping for the most because I love angst) he gets this part of his soul back and, while he once again regains the memories of what heaven stands for/their morals, it also has the memories of when and why he fell and the resentment he's built up over the millions of years and when he goes back to those pearly gates, the doors are once again chained: he's no longer good enough as his whole self again and he is locked away from his children: the only things he's ever cared about more than returning home, now the things he was trying so hard to return home for; the resentment grows stronger. (will this happen, probably not but i can hope and write about my depressing arc on tumblr all i want :3)

[ilovebabygirls]

MY WORKS IN PROGRESS . squid game

1. SLEEPLESS NIGHTS . roh nam-gyu × female reader

summary — she hated him. he hated her. it was as simple as that. everyone could tell. talking was not their forte, but for the good of the team, they had to put up with each other. from snarky remarks to completely avoiding each other, how did these two end up in the same bed each night?

tags — angst | comfort | third person point of view | won se-mi × female reader (platonic)

requested by @chbq2

2. SOOTHING THE MIND . won se-mi × female reader

summary — one particularly hard day caused her to break down in front of her girlfriend, who, despite her cold facade, was a sweetheart who would have done anything to comfort her lover.

tags — angst | fluff | comfort | established relationship | pre-game timeline | third person point of view

requested by @jeongteen

3. CAN'T NO MORE . hwang jun-ho × female pregnant reader

summary — after disappearing for a week without leaving a trace, her fiancée came back a different man. cold and distant. he was not the man she had met anymore, barely looking at her and locking himself in his office. was jun-ho still the man she fell in love with, or was she going to become a soon-to-be married single mother?

tags — angst | two parts | third person point of view

requested by me

4. ROH NAM-GYU HEADCANONS . boyfriend

tags — second person point of view | sfw headcanons | fluff | angst | pre-game timeline

requested by @literallypinkie

5. BOYFRIEND . won se-mi × female reader

tags — third person point of view | no game alternative universe

summary — se-mi wants her to break up with her boyfriend.

requested by me

[doggolol]

HE ALMOST SURRENDERS TO THE KISS

HE WAS SUPPOSED TO SURRENDER TO THE KISS

IM SOBBING

[clegfly]

Hi. Throws small self indulgent “mari actually IS something and after the true ending is able to get with hero via cleg logic I can’t be bothered to explain in a short funny description and oh god this is too long” au at you and runs into the woods

[operas-phantom]

Do I protect Christine or does she protect me?

I like to think that if I’m her angel, then I can keep her safe from the world, ensure her singing is at its best and that she’s okay. I’m her Guardian Angel of Music and Angel of Death to those who would harm someone like her.

But..

‘It’s okay, you can go without it.’

‘Is it?’

‘It’s fine.’

‘Are you sure.’

‘You get like this every time and then it is.’

‘Fine, but it’s been a bit. So I’m staying close to you.’

‘Haha, fine. Just don’t make me get Raoul to drag you away.’

[lavenderjewels]

people are reading too much into kenjakus appearance this chapter and should instead be considering it as takaken being canon

[glucosegaurdian]

So I decided to re-listen to TMA to prepare myself for TMAGP and stumbled upon a beauty of a time-travel-fix-it-fic and the imagery and writing brain blasted me.

The fic is Jon goes back and gets a semi happy ending (as a treat) and I swear it’s my new favorite both for the dialogue and setup!

Anyway I threw my phone reading the below bit and I had to share the exert and a fan drawing both for my own sanity and to inflict others of course.

*********************************

‘He stood there with a half-filled cereal bowl, the other half on the floor from his frantic jerking motions, and his hand on the handle. Now the smart thing to do would be to turn around, leave his apartment and crash on Georgie's couch until he could find a new place.

Unfortunately for him, Jon's curiosity won out in the end and he pulled the door open.

What greeted him was not something one would expect from a refrigerator, sure there was the regular stuff inside like milk, leftovers and other produce that would spoil if left to sit outside, however, the back of it had been replaced with a hallway. As if it was simply a doorway to the dimension beyond, except with small hinges on the right side, which meant the door that connected the hallway to the back was swung inward, his refrigerator was now a sort of bridge, connecting his apartment and the distortion’s hallway. And in the doorway was Michael, hands deep in some leftover potato salad Jon vaguely remembered buying and caught in the act of doing... whatever the distortion wanted his potato salad for.

Both of them stared at each other for a while, Michael was frozen in shock and Jon from bewilderment, until Jon eventually managed to gather his words.

"Could you pass the milk, please?"’

[bluehairperson]

Lady von Zarovich and her cringe fail boy toy dilf.

[bluecanvasshoe]

I'll Never Get Out of This World Alive

Chapter 5 of Everything Eats and is Eaten (Time is Fed)

Red Dead Redemption 2 x reader

Warnings: Animal death, blood, panic attacks, ptsd?, guns, alcohol relapse, trauma, passing out, drunk people, angst in general

Summary: You desperately keep your mind off of the gang, but bad things seem to follow you regardless. You lose a lot, but maybe you gain some, too.

Word count: 2.7k

Title from 'I'll Never Get Out Of This World Alive' by Hank Williams

Previous chapter | Next chapter

A/N: Hey everyone! So sorry this took a while. My lungs decided to stop working and one of my pets died, so I've been struggling to write. Hopefully we like this one!

----

Days had passed.

Your back is killing you, and the insides of your thighs are irritated from constant riding. 

The gang still plagued your thoughts, but it became too painful to think about. Anytime they’d weasel into your brain, your mind would shut everything out again.

The weather was a gamble each day; the damp forests of West Elizabeth were rainy and cold. The trees would act as a canopy from rainfall, but thick branches would become heavy with rain and dump whatever water they'd been holding onto you and your horse. Thanks to the late spring season, mosquitoes terrorized you constantly. Irritated red bumps came and went on any exposed skin.

Past the forests of West Elizabeth were the Heartlands, a dusty, dry environment. 

Valentine was a nice break from the riding, and you managed to get a hotel room, a bath, and a hot meal for a night before having to move on. You would’ve taken odd jobs to earn a bit more money, but a strange, frantic anxiety tugged at your heart; you couldn’t waste more time than you already had.

And now, here you are. Riding through the Heartlands to Lemoyne.

Your eyes hurt, and the sun has only just reached the middle of the sky. You almost feel nauseous, something in you begging to stop. But when you do, your heart starts beating that frantic rhythm, and you can’t seem to sit still.

Your horse is likely tired, but he’s been treated kindly; frequent stops for water and a near-constant stream of treats or food kept him in higher spirits than you.

When you were forced to spend a night resting, he’d keep you company by nudging your shoulder and huffing. You’d feed him an apple or an oatcake as a treat, satisfying the horse.

The days dragged on, and your mind grew incredibly weary.

Still, as you saw dry ranch country turn to rolling meadows, it was hard to deny how beautiful the scenery was.

An old, crinkled map was held in your hands. You had to keep an eye out for landmarks, anything to help you guide yourself to Saint Denis as fast as possible. 

Birds chirped too loud, and the occasional yowl of a fox was heard. Your horse’s hooves languidly hit the ground, steadily carrying you closer to Saint Denis. 

Your gear clinked and jostled with each step, the sound practically becoming background noise.

You tried to distract your exhausted mind with songs, but couldn’t remember much past the first few lyrics of most. Your head fell forward, and you blinked yourself awake. 

Your horse grunted, huffing with a flip of his mane. Your head lifted, the aching vertebrates of your neck supporting your overly heavy noggin.

Just a bit longer, you told yourself.

—

It was getting close to dusk, and the lights of a town entered your vision. It was Rhodes; you were undoubtedly close to Saint Denis.

With a click of your tongue and a gentle nudge of your spur, your horse quickened his pace.

You neared the small town, the sound of crickets mingling with faint chatter. Streetlights lined the main road, and cute buildings framed the paths. Reaching the red, dusty paths of Rhodes, you froze.

A white building stood not far away.

You walked past that one a few years ago.

You remember looking at that building.

You distinctly remember hearing a gunshot, and a whir of red cross your vision. Something hit the ground, a bag of bones and flesh.

Your body tensed, knuckles turning white and clenching your horse’s reins. Your already frazzled mind was startled when the sound of a boot hit the ground, and it instinctively urged your hand onto where the holster of a gun would be on your belt; if you’d bought a revolver, that is. 

Your head snapped to the side, surprising an approaching man. Frantic eyes darted around.

Your chest heaved, your vision caving in as white crept in around your eyes. Your hands trembled and your heart beat horribly fast. Everything suddenly felt too close, and you had trouble focusing your eyes.

The man in front of you waved his hand. “Howdy, miss, er, I’m not quite sure how to say this, but have we met before? You seem awfully familiar.”

“Met before…?” you muttered.

Shit. He remembers you from when the gang shot up the town in 1899.

He’s getting the law. They’re probably close, with their shotguns and horses and you’ll be put up in the gallows. You’ll die here or rot in prison. 

You idiot.

It’s your fault that you’ve been caught; maybe you shouldn’t have come here. 

This is a nightmare. This isn’t happening.

“Miss?” He said. You couldn’t make out his expression; everything was a blur.

A door opened not far away; bar music stopped. Glass broke. Men shouted at each other.

At you?

You couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t talk; everything mixed together. White clouded your vision, your eyes hazy. Nothing is processed through your brain. Not the desperate command you gave your horse nor the worried call of the man behind you. Dust kicked up as your horse grunted; that didn’t register, either.

You blinked, and you were suddenly riding as fast as you could. Pitch dark surrounded you.

Distant shouts were heard in the background; from what, you couldn’t make out. Only one thing was on your mind; the law was coming.

You looked over your shoulder, and your horse hit a tree. You were sent tumbling, rolling on the ground amidst soil and brush. 

After a moment, your limbs began to work again. A horrible ache resonated through you, your stomach and lungs empty as you gasped for air.

“No, no, no,” you muttered, getting to your feet and running to your horse.

You could barely walk as your legs shook violently. You stumbled to the ground, crawling the rest of the way toward the horse lying on the soil. Trembling, unsteady hands roamed his neck and eventually his head, eyes zeroing in on the blood spilling.

Your ears hardly picked up how the pained cries of the animal died out.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” you chanted, your voice coming out as a choked plea. 

“What do I- what do I do? I can’t…” you heaved, hands clammy.

You leaned forward, resting your head against the horse’s shoulder. Your mind raced, and you could barely think. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Nausea crept up your throat, and you had to look away. Gathering your things as fast as possible, you stood and ran.

You stumbled over tree roots and uneven terrain, branches and plants brushing at your ankles. You’d usually jump in surprise, but your heart is pumping too fast and too hard to make out any sensation other than the desperate flutter in your stomach.

Your legs gave out not five minutes later, leaving you defenseless, exhausted, and hurt on the forest floor.

You became lightheaded, unable to bring in enough air.

Your hands grasped at your throat, and it suddenly felt like your lungs were choking themselves.

You wheezed violently, but air refused to go further than your mouth despite the quick succession of your breaths.

A hand searched for something; you didn’t know what. 

Your body hit the ground.

—

When you awoke, your head felt as if it had split open. Like you had been pelted at the earth, a stone cracking your skull and crushing your bones.

You sit up with squinted eyes and quickly realize you’re in a forest; how did you get here?

Looking to the ground, you spot your bag and rifle. Thank god.

The sounds of nature surround you as if you hadn’t existed there at all; birds chirped and animals yowled, running across the forest floor. Sunlight filtered in through tall, leafy trees and hit the ground in dotted shadows. 

Stumbling to your feet, you gasp in surprise when a sharp pain shoots up the bone of your ankle, sending you down again. A memory comes back to you; white creeping around your vision and overwhelming dark, black night. You trip over a tree root but keep running anyway. There’s no pain.

You groan, your upper body hitting the ground again. 

Your horse. 

You run your dirtied hand down your face; it hardly matters, considering you likely have a week’s worth of sweat, dust, and who knows what else covering your body. It was your fault; of course it was. You did something stupid. You’re paying the price.

Getting up carefully to avoid irritating your ankle, you grab your bag and decide to find a road. It doesn’t take long to find a dirt path next to a rolling meadow with fresh horse tracks; hopefully, it was used often.

Your prayers are answered when a young man comes riding on a shoddy cart, a shire pulling the wagon. The wheels clatter as they roll, the links and parts of the horse’s tack clinking like bells or a ring of old keys.

“Sir!” you wave him down, balancing on one foot to the best of your ability.

He slows the large horse with a click of his tongue, appraising you with scrutiny. He scrunches his large nose, his mouth curving downwards. His cheeks are covered in sunburn-afflicted freckles, a tan covering the high planes of his face. A brown hat sat upon tawny hair. “You alright there?” He asks.

“Um, yeah,” you mumbled, looking back at the forest briefly. “Look, sir, my horse, uh… you see, he died a little further... in the forest, and I need to get to Saint Denis. Are you heading in that direction?” you sounded more desperate than you preferred, your voice more pleading than it was asking a polite question.

He looked at the back carrying splintered crates and labeled burlap sacks, sighing before shuffling to the side. “I’ll getcha there,” he nodded. 

You loaded the small bag and rifle you had onto the seat, stepping up and into the rickety driver’s bench. “Thank you, sir,” you smiled, though you’re sure it came off as more of a grimace.

You probably smell awful; you probably look awful, too. 

The closer you get to Saint Denis, the swampier the air is. Maybe the stench can cover you? Are you really that bad?

…Probably.

An awkward silence falls upon the two of you, occasionally jostling and bumping into each other within the tight confines of the bench. 

“So, uh… Why’re you headin’ to Saint Denis?” The man awkwardly piped up, not looking away from the beige, dusty road.

You blink for a moment, your brain processing at the speed of a snail. “I’ve got some family. A distant uncle,” You settled upon the idea of estranged relatives, hoping he’d buy it. He seemed to be convinced if the nod and an absence of suspicion was something to go off of.

“I see. Um, my pa’s got a sister who lives there. I’ve hardly met her, can’t say I’m looking for her.” He said, adjusting the hat on his head. Sunlight shined upon your backs, heating up the top of your scalp uncomfortably.

You sighed, brushing your hair back in hopes that it’d lay flat. “Why not?” 

“I ain’t ever met her.” He shrugged. “My name’s Martin.”

You nodded at his introduction, your hands settling upon your knees. You introduced yourself, clearing your throat. 

The conversation between the two young adults soon flowed into something comfortable, a nice distraction amidst a warzone of a mind.

Fields and meadows surround you and the boy, golden sunlight bringing out hidden hues of trees and flowers. It’s peaceful.

—

The smoke-filled streets of Saint Denis soon enveloped you. A faint haze of grey shrouded the city you came to hate, the smell of smoke and sewers filling your aching sinuses.

“I’ve never liked this place,” you said, shaking your head.

Martin tilted his head. “Really? I’m not against bein’ in the big city.” His voice carried an indifferent lilt as he shrugged.

“It’s not that I hate cities,” you corrected, looking at the working-class folks who wandered the streets. “I just hate the atmosphere of this city in particular.”

“Hate’s an incredibly strong word,” Martin pointed out, almost sounding cheeky. “Are you sure it ain’t a subtle dislike? You can’t hate it.”

“I do hate it.” You insisted, watching the people go about their lives.

Some swept streets, and others took a smoke break from their smoke-filled factory jobs. Haughty men on horses occasionally passed by, his lips turned in a grimace as he looked upon those he deemed less than himself; he who works four days a week and sips tea from delicate china. The muddy streets squelch and it’s a wonder how no one loses their footing. Big, proud signs and murals display the names of companies, their establishing dates set an unimpressive twenty years prior.

Martin stops, pulling to the side of a polluted street. “I ought to drop all this off. I’ll leave you here.”

Gathering your things hastily, you step down from the wagon and look back up at him with what you hoped was a grateful look. “Thank you, Martin. I uh, I really do appreciate your help.” 

“Don’t thank me, miss, it was nothin’. Good luck findin’ your uncle.” He replies humbly, clicking his tongue with a small flick of the reins. The large shire horse begins walking again, its steady gait carrying them away and down the corner of a street.

You look around where you were dropped off, vaguely remembering how to navigate the muddy labyrinth. The lonely grey of the sky presses upon the looming structures of connected buildings, the sad atmosphere of workers weighing on you almost immediately. With a sigh from your nose, you turn and set off to find the nearest bar.

Just this once, you tell yourself. Just one time, you’ll be fine.

—

You have hardly any money in your bag anymore.

The bartender scoffs, his lips curled in disgust as he ushers you from the warmly lit bar. You stumble onto the streets, swirling vision and muddled mind altering your surroundings. Sunlight invades your eyes.

You lean against a wall, ignoring the awful ache of your ankle as you try to collect your thoughts.

God dammit. Charles is waiting!

Your heart rapidly increases its beating, and you push yourself from your support.

You stumble down cracked and uneven sidewalks, vaguely remembering the area in which the fighting ring was reported.

Your confused, hazy mind gets you there, and totally not because you stopped multiple strangers on the road and asked for directions.

You find a white-bricked building, a path curving around it. Tripping through, you’re met with a rotting, wooden apartment and staircase, the ground packed with dirt and framed by flimsy fencing.

A muffled shouting comes from further down, and you get yourself there after ignoring the shouts of strangers around you.

Shouting? 

The law?

Nah. Probably not.

“Charles!” You call, your voice slurred.

A crowd fills your vision, men erupting into a cacophony of cheers for a person beyond your sight. Another, however, takes your attention.

Your befuddled mind couldn’t believe what it was seeing.

Charles was speaking to a man. He was a little ways away from the onlookers, their backs turned. 

“You’re a killer, Charles. Remember that.” a man with a moustache said, a hand on your old friend’s shoulder. Upon hearing footsteps, the stranger giving the pep talk narrowed his eyes that landed on you. “I’ll… be off now…?” He said, turning away and walking towards the loud group.

Charles sighs before noticing you. 

“Charles!” you cheered.

His eyes widened, and he said your name with an air of disbelief; said shock quickly morphing into exasperation and his own kind of worry when you threw yourself at him.

“Charles! I’ve been- Charles, I’ve been looking for you, Charles,” you smiled lopsidedly, looking up at the long-haired man. He furrowed his brows, unsure of what to do. 

Carefully pushing you off of him, he sighs.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, surely recognizing you. “Are you drunk?”

“No, no, I’m not,” you slur, shaking your head with a goofy expression.

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head, grabbing one of your shoulders and guiding you away from the crowd. He stopped at some crates, putting on a blue shirt and a leather vest. Another man wearing a brimmed hat approached him. They exchanged words your brain couldn’t quite process before Charles turned back to you.

He led you outside the alleyway, stopping when you crouched down unexpectedly.

“What? Are you alright?” He asked, bending at the waist.

You don’t remember anything after that.

---

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[mal1ntent]

Random qsmp eggs fun fact Tallulah's favorite lullaby is Jort Storm by Slimecicle because Phil would get lazy with tasks and play it instead of singing and Leo's favorite lullaby is Pac e Mike wow wow because Foolish would get lazy with tasks and play it instead of singing