#the first chapter introduces the characters and their circumstances

[lord-radish]

Started writing the fifth chapter of my persona 4 fanfic at midnight on a Sunday. Story is tentatively titled Let's Bash Queerphobes!, but I'll probably change it to something a bit more low-key because despite one scene of queerphobes getting bashed, a sheer, SHEER majority of these five chapters has been character-building and conversations.

With this fifth chapter, I'm finally getting to the point where the gang is gonna start getting into fights, but the chapters are so long y'know. Already planning for chapter six to have the next fight scene, and it should hopefully bring Kanji and Naoto into the action. I want to start publishing the chapters when I hit chapter 10.

[my-thoughts-and-junk]

reading dungeon meshi

[seirindono]

TMS - Author's note (Arc 1)

Today I'm stepping up to talk about TMS for a while. It's going to be a lot of blah blah, no TLDR, so hang in there or save it for later if you're brave enough, haha (¯▿¯)

So, another chapter of TMS draws to a close, with the difference that this time it's a whole saga that's coming to an end! That's a big relief for me, given that we recently celebrated the comic's 4th anniversary! That's almost the entire duration of my college life, and that's both an impressive and terrifying achievement lol.

The comic is divided into 3 arcs, each separated by an interlude. The first runs from part 1 to 8, with 201 pages total (wow!). In it, you are introduced to Mel, a young skeleton with a rather unclear past, who accidentally arrives in a a foreign timeline, along with other well known skeletons. Nowadays it's just an isekai haha. Throughout the arc, she proves to be a cautious Monster, quiet and somewhat withdrawn compared to the other skeletons we come across, notably Rus, Blue and Axe, who each got their own sequences.

Still, Mel in the last few scenes is starting to show more initiative, and the interlude will make this even more obvious, but we can expect her to open up a lot more during the next Arc, about her past, motives, goals and thoughts.

I could go on at length about what's in store for us in the interlude, but given that it's due for release sometime in 2024, I'm going to talk about the general story line instead. Although we follow Mel who is foreign to what's going on in this universe prior to her arrival, the other characters and events suggest that strange phenomena are taking place in Ebott, leading many people to become embroiled in a highly unusual affair. Crossing timelines, earthquakes, mysterious apparitions in the forest, something is afoot and the situation seems to be at a turning point when Mellow gets here.

Everyone has their own way of dealing with the situation and what to do next. Some are serious and pragmatic, like Black, others optimistic, like Blue, and others, like Papyrus, find themselves completely backed into a corner, forced to do their best to fix whatever needs to be.

A special case, however, is Axe, whom Mel meets in the forest as she investigates Mt. Ebott. The two have diametrically opposed views of their current condition. One wants to return to her world by any means necessary, regardless of the advantages of a peaceful world. The other, not so much. Both refuse to talk about their past and ignore the other's circumstances, but a sense of familiarity drives them to try to convince the other to stay or go. These are two stark positions to reconcile, and while we can expect Blue and the other skeletons to have their own views on the subject too, Mel and Axe are strangely "committed" in this interraction and resort to violence, spurred on by a unknown substance that causes Axe to momentarily lose control.

Mel is wounded, Axe unconscious, and the status quo disrupted. Other consequences follow this confrontation, and several questions are raised: Can Blue really help Mel when Axe accuses him of having already given up on going home himself? What is this mysterious entity Axe came across a few days earlier? The vibrations? What was that substance that made him go berserk? And what made him stop? Can we trust Mel and what she tells us? And many others.

Because as I'm sure many of you have come to realize, Mel has proven to be a rather unreliable narrator (or at least character since you don't follow her actual POV). Blatantly lying or omitting facts to others and readers alike, it's hard to know her next move and whether she's genuinely forgotten important infos (for it's well established at this stage that she has hazy memories and that they continue to deteriorate. The same applies to her health).

In the same way, each part of TMS so far has raised more questions than it has answered, but I can confidently say that the road is paved for Arc 2 to answer and put in perspective most of them, ahah.

Ah, this is also the moment when I can announce that ALL skeletons will be featured in the Interlude. Should be. Hopefully.

I'd also like to point out a few narrative changes for Act 2! The central characters, in particular. Original cast characters such as Undyne, Metatton and a veiled character will be more formally introduced, but we'll also meet up with characters we've already bumped into, but in a much more concrete way, such as Frisk and Alphys. I can't wait for you to get to know them! You can also expect more pov changes, more elipses and so on. Things are moving fast.

But that begs the question. When is it due? As said before, the first Arc lasted 4 years and I'm entering my last (and most crucial) year of college. I still don't know if I'll have time to get much of it done in 2025, but on the other hand, I'd like to strike while the iron's hot lest TMS be discontinued after a 1-year hiatus and my entry into the working world. Student loan, life and all. There are still plenty of things I'd like to bring to this project, and I now have the skills to actually carry them out, but on the other hand, the time involved has also increased exponentially.

Tbh with you, as an animation student, it's been one of my dreams since 2020 to do one of TMS's sequences in animatic or full anim, or even a trailer for the comic! But as a solo team, it's just unreasonable and I know it. But the parasite ----. Don't get me wrong, I could, but it would take me months and it's just not realistic when 80% of my time has to go into professionnal work that goes into my portefolio or adult stuff. I can't affort to invest time in solo-ing it or to recruit and lead a team over one side project of mine ( ´ ▿ ` ) So we'll most likely stick to classic pages.

But the same goes for collabs, community events, side stories, asks, edits, dubs, testing other platforms, regular animatics. Love all of that. Really. But I never have the time to because, man, I'd love to actually finish TMS someday ahah. It all comes back to the age-old problem of “lots of ideas, little time”, and it's so frustrating but, it's a choice I have to stick to, so bear with me as I vent my frustration. Just for tonight (´ ∀ `, *)

So, yes. Act 2. Next year? Probably? It's a long interlude, so you'll get smth in the meantime, but it's likely to decide the future of TMS and whether Act 2 sees the light of day as I imagine it or if...well, something else replaces it.

bringing back this doodle cuz it seems fiting lol

Anyway, I also wanted to thank you for your engagement with Part 8!

I don't know how other comic artists experience it, but for me it's a very isolated work, and as much as I love working alone, I enjoy the interaction with readers most of all.

Seeing people losing their mind over a serious scene, or chuckling at a dumb gag, or just simping over the characters and art. It's just great, and very rewarding. Likewise, I have a blast answering questions about the TMS universe, reading tags and receiving memes, witnessing people go increasingly mad with messages full of indecipherable screams and hearts. Makes me giggle and kick my feet everytime and I can't wait to drop the next lore bomb or funny scene bwahahah

And while we're on the subject, I'd like to say a special word of thanks to the legions of rebloggers who make it their business to spread the word about TMS. You sweet, lovely, candy scented folks. And to my dear mutuals - with whom I interact objectively so little - who have no idea how a single message or note from them drives me bonkers. Thanks for dropping by. And of course to my super Patreons who support me despite the sparse updates, but to whom I'm more than grateful. Love you all.

Sounds like a farewell message. It's not lol. Just making sure they get the love they deserve.

The post is getting long and I'm kind of done pretending I know how to write organized notes so to wrap things up, here's an exhaustive list of what I'd like to get done this year and/or discuss in more detail another day. •Make a new masterpost (for Act 2) •Analyze/Comment certain sequences from Act 1 to clarify or give context •Redraw and rewrite part 1 and 2 •Make more bonus content again *ahahahahahaha*

•Re open or close the Discord (partially abandoned and it's all on me, but I'm still mulling it over).

•Finish the Interlude and enjoy and nice hiatus

And that's about it? Congratulation for reading this and making it this far! You were there!

Be well, and see you next time.

Seirin-

First part | Prev | Next (INTERLUDE)

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[etherealising]

chapter one | a berzatto family christmas

masterlist | next chapter ↣

pairing(s): carmen berzatto x fem!reader : platonic!michael berzatto x fem!reader : platonic!richie jerimovich x fem!reader

summary: you reunite with carmy years later at the berzatto family christmas party.

warnings: language (cursing), blasphemy, angst (maybe?), spoilers kinda (if you haven't seen season 2 don't read), the berzatto family, not dialogue heavy, very subtle hints to mikey being suicidal, probably ooc!characters, idk what else but if you find something let me know please! not beta’d and minimal editing so sorry for any mistakes. i also wrote this overstimulated on caffeine so if it doesn’t make sense or it’s repetitive then we know why : )

semantics: no use of Y/N: reader goes by the nickname Baby it has a backstory and its literally so simple, if this bothers you idk what to tell you, sorry : (

wc: 4.7k

You were standing on the sidewalk, nerves filling your body as you hyped yourself up to take the few steps left to the porch and ring the doorbell. You shouldn’t have been so nervous, you knew that but your mind was spinning with the myriad of scenarios both good and bad; that could play out once you stepped foot past the threshold. In all honesty, it wasn’t so much that you were nervous to enter the house itself, it was the fact that you’d be face to face with your childhood best friend for the first time in you didn’t even know how long. Maybe childhood best friend was a stretch you had only been introduced into each other's lives due to circumstance, and because of that forced proximity, you both took comfort in having someone stable around.

The two of you weren’t friends because you had chosen each other, or because you had met in kindergarten and shared toys in the sandbox because the other kids were stingy. No, you met because as a single mom, your mother needed all the shifts she could get even if that meant working the graveyard shift at the hospital, and only seeing you a handful of hours throughout the day because most times she was too dead on her feet to be conscious for more than a few hours. And when she could no longer pay the babysitter her next best option was the eccentric woman across the street who had children close in age with you.

Enter Donna Berzatto, a woman who came to feel like a second mom to you. It's not that she replaced your mom, no one could ever replace her, but she was the only real mother figure you knew for a time in your life. Who took you in as her own when your mother needed a new babysitter, and not just you but integrated your mom into the family as well, when she was spared the time off from nursing. Donna Berzatto who never sent you home empty-handed, and always made enough food for you and your mom to last throughout the week, just so your mother wouldn’t have to worry about fitting grocery shopping into her already hectic schedule. Donna Berzatto who, even when you were old enough to no longer need a babysitter, would send Carmy across the street to fetch you for family dinner, or even just invite you over because she thought you needed company.

Now that you were thinking about it, it seemed like you were more friends with his mom than you ever were with Carmen Berzatto. But then that would be a lie wouldn’t it?

You and Carmen Berzatto were friends due to circumstance, maybe even best friends. You weren’t just friends at his house, but you were school friends, you were everywhere friends. He really was your only true friend, of course, you had school friends, but that’s just what they were. You saw them Monday through Friday for a mandatory education, never an hour before school started or a minute after the final bell. Which didn’t necessarily bother you, but sometimes you longed for a weekend invitation to hang out, not that it ever came. And it wasn’t like you were shunned or unpopular in school, you were just average, you didn’t see a point in making friends with people you weren’t actually interested in befriending.

That’s what made Carmy so different, yes maybe you were only introduced due to circumstances but that didn’t stop the two of you from latching onto each other for dear life. Your mom always wondered how you two even established the friendship you did, with both of you being shy and never feeling the need to go out of your way to make friends. Include the fact that you had been neighbors practically your whole lives and never once taken an interest in each other aside from shy waves and curious childlike staring when either of you would be outside.

Your relationship with Carmen progressed as any childlike relationship would, you befriended each other, had your incessant petty arguments and fights, nothing ever serious enough to actually cause damage just childish antics. And it continued to progress through middle school and high school, the two of you were each other’s person, you just understood each other, the two of you let the other understand you, and wanted to be understood by each other.

You could also recall what you explain as a minute change in your friendship. As Senior year approached and you and Carmy continued to grow into yourselves, you developed a slight crush on the boy you had grown up with. It obviously wasn’t as small as you thought it was if you were standing in front of his childhood home giving yourself a pep talk just to ring the damn doorbell though was it?

The unsolicited card and wrapped present weighed heavy in your tote bag, as your breath was made visible by the chilly Chicago weather.

It was Christmas and for all intents and purposes you had been planning on mailing the present to Carmen’s New York address, but after visiting The Beef on your way back into town Mikey and Richie had let it slip that indeed the infamous Berzatto sibling would be gracing everyone with his presence this holiday season.

It was moments like these you wished you had picked up on the Berzatto family’s horrible smoking habit, thankfully your mom had taught you just how vital having functioning lungs was.

Your head shot up as the sound of loud rambunctious voices drew your attention to the front door opening and closing revealing a face you were all too familiar with and actually relieved to see. The oldest Berzatto brother stood on the porch, hands on his hips as he gave you a goofy smile. You could feel your lips stretching into a smile of your own, the infectious aura that Michael Berzatto exuded doing wonders to calm your racing mind.

“I know you didn’t come all this way just to stand outside staring at my family home like a fucking weirdo Baby.” Mikey’s smile grew in size as he teased you.

You rolled your eyes at the childhood nickname you wish hadn’t stuck as Mikey opened his arms to wrap you in one of his signature hugs. The two of you stood on the porch embracing each other for what felt like hours, you needed this hug as much as he needed it, you knew it and Mikey did too. That was the thing about you and Mikey although not blood-related it was as if your souls knew each other in a past life. Of the Berzatto siblings, Mikey was the last sibling you developed a relationship with. Growing up he was always just Carmy’s older brother but as you grew up surrounded by him, he became your surrogate older brother as well. And when Carmy dashed off to pursue his culinary dreams in New York, you and Mikey grew even closer.

You stepped back from the embrace, your eyes finding Mikey’s as he looked at you with a knowing glint in his eyes. “You not standing out here cause of a certain Chef in that house are ya?” Mikey asked, smirking down at you.

You chuckled “The only reason I come around anymore is for Mama Donna.” You joked doing a poor job to convince Mikey.

He nodded, tossing his head back with a laugh, “You were always a shit liar Baby. Carmy’s an idiot, don't let him ruin your Christmas.”

You let out a sigh head resting against Mikey’s chest as you tried to let his words soothe you even more, “He’s not ruining it, you just know things have been kind of stilted between us, and I don’t know this whole situation just feels awkward.”

You raised your head to look at Mikey again, “It’s awkward right? Am I making things awkward? I don’t wanna ruin Christmas Mikey, I know how your mom is and I know how Carmy is, I don’t wanna ambush him.”

The worry in your voice was evident as Mikey stood there listening to your ranting. His hand reached out as he used his thumb to massage away the frown between your eyebrows. “Calm down Baby, you know Ma is expecting you, and she wouldn’t take it well if you missed Christmas. She looks forward to seeing you every year, you give her a piece of Carmy when he can’t be fucking asked to come home and visit.” His hand moved down to cup the side of your neck rubbing soothing circles where his thumb rested, “Do it for Ma okay? Let Carmy be fucking wonder boy Carmy a’ight.”

You laughed nodding your head as best as you could with Mikey’s hand holding it, he smiled giving you one last hug before dropping his hand to grab your wrist and tug you into the house. You stopped him by placing a hand on his arm that was connected to yours.

“Hold on Mikey, I got you something.” You moved to start rummaging through your tote bag stalling because you were too nervous for his reaction to the present.

“Awe you didn’t have to get me nothing.” You turned back to him with the present in your hands as he held his own hands over his heart mockingly. You knew Mikey didn’t do well when it came to sentimental things and the best you would get out of him was a joke as opposed to anything else.

You laughed holding the rectangular wrapped present out to him, “I wanted to Mikey, don’t think of this as a gift, think of it uhh…as a show of appreciation yeah?” You nodded feeling your face heat up as you dropped your head so he couldn’t see how unsure you were about the gift.

He smiled, finding your shyness endearing before tearing into the neatly wrapped paper and revealing a frame, his hands engulfing it from end to end. He smiled looking at it before you saw confusion etch across his face, “This is great Baby, yeah but uh what the fuck am I looking at?”

You shove his shoulder before laughing at him and grabbing the frame out of his hands but holding it in front of your chest so he could still see its contents, “It's a trademark certification you dumbass, can’t you fucking read Mikey.” You joked to try and underestimate how big of a gift this was.

Mikey’s brows furrowed before he snatched the frame out of your hands to get a better look at the certificate sitting behind the glass, eyes snapping back up to your face with a look you couldn’t read. You shuffled your feet feeling like you overstepped a boundary you didn’t even know was between you and Mikey, “Don’t worry though I-I, put it in your name, it’s not like I trademarked it for myself or anything. I just know how much this means to you and I, I know shit has been tough lately and I’m sorry if you feel like I stepped on your toes but…Mikey, you deserve good things too okay?” You hadn’t meant to go on a rant, but you could feel the apprehension leaving you as you became passionate in every word you spoke.

“You deserve to be fucking happy Mikey, and I, I want you to know I fucking believe in you and I’m always in your corner. If it's-” You were cut off by Mikey clearing his throat, causing your eyes to snap back up to his, all the emotions he didn’t know how to translate into words swirling in his brown eyes, a small smile resting on his lips.

“Mikey-,” Before you could get another word out you were once again trapped in his comforting embrace, this hug conveying something completely different from the earlier one you shared. Mikey’s head tucked into your neck as you felt his uneasy breathing through your hands clutched around him. Mikey wasn’t the type to get emotional in front of other people, and feeling a tear of his smear against your cheek as he raised his head from your neck and settled his bearded cheek against yours, you weren’t sure if you had done the right thing by giving him the gift or not.

The two of you stood in silence as you allowed Mikey his moment, not wanting to make him feel insecure about you being present while he was being emotional. When he finally pulled away you could see the leftover sheen in his eyes. He tucked the framed certificate under his arm as both his hands reached up to grab your face in both of his hands, eyes finding yours, a whispered “thank you, baby,” leaving his lips as he placed a kiss on your forehead before he grabbed the frame again and wrapped you in another hug.

His head rested atop yours as your face rested against his chest, ear pressed against his beating heart. You lied, you thought the last hug was different, but no it was this hug that was different, while the second hug you shared in the span of 20 minutes was a hug of love and gratitude. This hug felt heavier, like there were things Mikey wanted to tell you but couldn’t, things he only felt he could convey through a hug, things you weren’t sure if you wanted to question or not.

It had been almost 20 minutes since Michael had escaped the house to do whatever the fuck it was he was doing outside. Carmy didn’t know and in all honesty he didn’t actually give a shit either, too busy helping Donna out in the kitchen to try to give any thoughts to whatever had grabbed Mikey’s attention.

He was focused in the corner of the kitchen making Tiff Sprite to help alleviate her nausea symptoms. Anyone else would have done their best to block out the rambunctious noises going on throughout the house, not Carmy though, the chaos fueled him, it grounded him. If the house was quiet it would have been too much for him, to be alone with his own thoughts ping-ponging around in his head, waiting for a chance to drown him. So if he had to listen to his mom list a plethora of things he needed to make sure happened for Christmas dinner to go off without a hitch while he was making Sprite from scratch, he welcomed it.

He finished his concoction just in time for Richie to walk through the kitchen, the older man trying to figure out how the fuck it was even possible to make Sprite from scratch. Gratefully taking the glass Carmy had offered to him, marveling at the carbonated drink in his hand.

Carmy nodded in his direction, “Yo Cousin, where the fuck is Mikey. He just fucking disappeared.” Carmy’s head swiveled around the kitchen double checking whether his brother was there or not, coming up empty in his search. Richie glanced up before settling his eyes back on the drink in his hand still doing the mental math to wrap his head around what the fuck Carmy just made.

Richie jutted his head in the direction of the front door, “Outside talking to Baby.” His eyes finally focused on Carmy’s in time to see the frown grace the younger man’s face, his eyebrows pinching together in agitation, annoyed that his brother was on a phone call rather than inside. Though that’s what Carmy told himself subconsciously he knew he was just annoyed at the fact that Mikey was even talking to you at all. Carmy didn’t think he was possessive but as you and Mikey grew closer through the years, he couldn’t help but feel miffed about the ever growing friendship between the two of you. You and your friendship with Carmy was the first thing in his life that he felt like was actually his and his alone.

It’s funny really for Carmy to think he has any sort of claim over you, or like the two of you were even really friends anymore. When he left Chicago to pursue his culinary dreams, he left you behind to, essentially ghosting the one real friend he did have. It’s not like he meant to, you two just went your separate ways after graduation, and he wasn’t even sure if there even was an “Us” when it came to the two of you anymore. If that was the case the only person he had to blame was himself, it was no fault of yours that your friendship had hit a plateau, Carmy hadn’t responded to a text of yours in years, and the fact that you still texted him to this day caused a slight pain in his chest as he stood in the middle of his mother’s kitchen, frown still etched into his features.

“He’s outside on the phone with Baby?” Carmy questioned the ache in his chest doing nothing to alleviate his irritation. It was Richie’s turn to frown reciprocating the same confused look Camry wore.

“What - No dickhead, he’s talking to Baby, like she’s right in fucking front of him and shit.” Richie swatted the side of Carmy’s head like a child. “Your moms invites her to every holiday, Cousin, and she comes every time.” Richie knew the last bit wasn’t necessary but felt Carmy rightfully deserved it, all anyone wanted from the youngest Berzatto was a visit.

“Dudes been out there for fucking ever though, those to idiots just standing outside like a bunch of fucking jackoffs.” Richie left the kitchen not waiting for Carmy to follow him before heading to the front door. He stopped moving the curtain on one of the side windows to spot two of the people he considered family. He let out a low whistle nudging Carmy’s shoulder who had finally joined his side nodding his head to the window.

“Get a load of these fucking losers hugging on the porch like they’re in some fucking Hallmark movie or some shit.” Richie laughed pointing at you and Mikey through the window. Carmy leaned closer to get a peak at what Richie was going on about.

Carmy hated to admit it, but Richie was right, the too of you looked like the happy couple who just saved a small town’s Christmas or whatever the fuck Hallmark movies were about. Mikey had finally separated himself from you long enough for Carmy to take in your features. He’d be lying if he said the years apart made him forget what you looked like. You were still the same girl he left in Chicago all those years ago except the wand of maturity had touched you, and in his opinion he thought you looked more beautiful than you had in high school.

Carmy was never one to pay too much attention to a woman’s features, and not because he didn’t care, it's just that he didn’t think it mattered. But as he drank in your form he learned in that exact moment why a woman might want people to notice the small things. Like the haircut you were sporting that Carmy felt shaped your face well, not that he knew shit about stuff like that, but he could appreciate art when he saw it. The outfit you picked out doing wonders to compliment your tall form and accentuate your legs. Carmy could look at you all day, scratch that he wanted to look at you all day.

He was torn from his reverie as Richie narrated the scene happening in front of them, “Aw look at these fuckers lookin all in love an shit.” He joked watching as Mikey slung his arm around you and led you towards the door, what looked to be a frame held in his other hand. The two of you walked side by side, your arm wrapped around his torso, hugging him into your side, Mikey’s head leaning slightly down to whisper something in your ear a small smile gracing your face as Mikey pressed his lips onto your temple lingering there for what Carmen swore was forever.

The tightness in his chest intensified tenfold as the realization of just how close you and Mikey had become sank into him. He didn’t know how to feel, his brain not even allowing any emotions to process, saving himself from any conclusions he might come to from a split second interaction.

Carmy left, he chose his path, he knew this, and he had no regrets he would pursue his dream every time the opportunity was presented. He just wished that, maybe if he held onto you as tightly as you still held onto him, it would’ve been him greeting you on the sidewalk on Christmas Day, being the sole object of your attention holding you close to his longing body. He knew overall the decisions he made regarding you were wrong, while he ignored your daily text and calls enough times for you to just resort to monthly check ins asking him about his endeavors and congratulations as you heard about his achievements in the culinary industry, he knew deep down that Mikey answered every text and call you sent his way, made it his mission to connect with you anytime you were back in Chicago.

Carmy couldn’t admit it to himself but deep down he knew his family saw spending time with you as a way to stay connected to him. You were the closest thing any of them still had to Carmy, and even though he had essentially cut you off from his life, his family loved you too much to allow Carmy’s shortcomings to affect their relationship with you.

He was broken from the recesses of his mind as Richie threw the door open stepping over the threshold raising his hands in the air to welcome you and Mikey into the house. The glass of Sprite still clutched in his left hand, a broad smile spread across his face as you left Mikey’s hold to greet Richie eyes not having spotted Carmy who was hidden behind Richie’s small frame.

Carmy’s first up close look at you in years were your hands wrapped around Richie’s torso as he pulled you into a hug, rocking the two of you back and forth, Richie let you go quickly turning his body back into the house “A’ight fuckers you can all stop pretending you care so much about Carmy and his little rat in the chef hat bullshit. We got the real deal here now, Baby's gracing us with her journalist presence.”

Carmy’s brows furrowed at Richie’s dig only slightly offended about being compared to a fictional character named after pasta, too caught up in allowing the sound of your laugh to grace his ears for the first time in what felt like forever. Mikey had finally caught up to you standing behind you with a hand placed on your shoulder, Carmy watched as his brother’s hand glided up and down your arm before giving your bicep a slight squeeze and nodding his head in Carmy’s direction.

If Carmy was being honest it was becoming increasingly difficult to quiet his mind that was eagerly trying to piece everything together. From yours and Mikey's prolonged moment on the porch, to the kiss he placed on your temple, add in Richie’s jokes and the almost constant physical contact between you and Mikey and Carmy was sure he figured shit out.

You looked to where Mikey motioned his head finally noticing Carmy’s figure standing there while Richie ran off towards the stairs after his impromptu introduction. Looking at Carmy was like being in a Time Machine, nothing had drastically changed, he looked more exhausted than what you remembered. But overall he was the same Carmy you parted ways with all those years ago.

A small smile graced your lips as you took him in, he was still your Carmy appearance wise, and right now for you that was all that mattered. You lifted your hand in a small wave gaining his attention, your smile growing wider as your eyes locked with his.

The clearing of a throat broke you from your thoughts, Mikey’s hand giving your shoulder a squeeze as he walked you two into the house before shutting the door behind him. As he finished he stood in front of you so that Carmy was partially covered from view by each brother in your line of vision though your focus was taken up by the eldest. He gave you a reassuring smile before gently knocking his fist against your chin and presumably turning to leave you and Carmy alone.

As Mikey walked past Carmy he gave him his signature grin and a wink before patting his shoulder as left to check on Donna in the kitchen and mingle with the other guests.

Carmy’s face was still set in the same frown it had been in when he first asked Richie where Mikey ran off to. You took a deep breath to settle your nerves before taking a step to close the gap between you, your hand reached out to gently squeeze Carmy’s arm though stopping in midair as you watched him subtly flinch. Your smile faltered, your hand finding its rightful place at your side. You looked up to see the apology in Carmy’s eyes, you did your best to brush the moment off, maybe you came on too strong, maybe it wasn’t fair that you were still pushing for a friendship when Carmy had given you all the reasons to stop trying, maybe the Carmy in front of you was a different Carmy to the one you used to know. Maybe the life where it was you and Carmy had finally taken its last breath and you were just too clingy and desperate to realize.

You cleared your throat trying to alleviate the lump forming from the thoughts that were racing through your brain. The small placating smile on your face there to stop you from having a full breakdown in the Berzatto’s foyer. “Its good to see you Carmen, I hope New York is treating you well.” You lips wrapped around the generic greeting forcing yourself not to say anything you might regret.

Carmy nodded his head rapidly accepting your lackluster words, his lips parting and closing all in the same breath. The man obviously had nothing to say to you, and maybe you just had to accept that. You stayed a moment longer cursing yourself for doing so as the air between you two filled with palpable tension.

“Baby, is that you? My goodness you look fucking gorgeous.” Half of Donna’s body had popped out of the kitchen finally gaining a spare moment to greet you. Her words mumbled through the cigarette between her lips, a ladle held in her right hand while the left was occupied by tongs. Her apron covered in all sorts of sauces and whatever the hell else your brain couldn’t even begin to discern.

You laughed half in amusement and half in relief, you weren’t sure how much longer you could stand there as Carmy burned holes in your body. You waved at Donna quickly, beginning to head towards her to join her in the kitchen. It wasn’t your first choice as an escape from Carmen but you’d rather try and help Donna finish preparing Christmas dinner than be around Carmy for another minute.

Donna waved the tongs in Carmy’s direction, “Jesus fucking Christ Carmen, take the girls bag and coat. Don’t just fuckin stand there.” She huffed eyes glaring the longer Carmen stayed glued to the spot. You handed him your tote as soon as his arm shot out and began hastily shimmying out of your jacket. You gave him a soft smile before laying the jacket on his awaiting arm.

You began to leave the foyer as Donna motioned for you to follow her, mentally preparing yourself for what you were about to walk into. A sudden thought occurred causing you to gently grip Carmy’s bicep as you were walking past him, “I uh, I actually bought you a Christmas present. So um, find me later yeah?” You smiled tilting your head slightly in questioning.

Carmen Berzatto graced you with a small smile, nodding back in agreement as you sent him one final nod and turned to enter the kitchen. The first positive emotion he granted you since you walked back into his life 30 minutes ago.

next chapter ↣

a/n: this is my first fic that i’m publishing and i genuinely have no clue what the fuck any of this is, : ) but nonetheless hope you all enjoy! or don’t i’m just a stranger on the internet. constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated though. please like, comment, reblog if this behemoth tickles your fancy!

also i write for fun/hobby and i'm such an inconsistent bitch so don't get your hopes too high, but this will potentially be a series idk yet though lol.

[icarusflewsworld]

Rhysand & Cassian & Azriel X OC

Hello, here is the chapter 3 of a fanfiction on the world of Acotar where our three favorite Batboys are the mates of a single woman.

I hope you like it! Don't hesitate to let me know if you prefer the OC to become y/n and/or gender neutral.

Also, I apologize for any mistakes you might find, I'm just a French girl doing her best with Google Translate and her average score of 5 in English classe.

! Don't forget to read the previous chapters ! : Here

Happy reading!

Chapter 3

The servants had been kicked out of the house within hours. Nesta and Elain waited by the window in the large dining room, while Feyre went to open the door to the Faes. She led them through the house.

Rhysand, Cassian and Azriel were burning with barely concealed excitement at the prospect of seeing their mate again, whom they had only caught a glimpse of earlier. But they still had many questions and doubts. Was she really their soulmate? Did she have character? Was her hair silky? Was her skin soft? Would she like them?

So, when they arrived in the dining room accompanied - unfortunately for them - by Tamlin and Lucien, they were more than disappointed not to see the young woman. 

Feyre had the reflex to say to herself that she had done well to choose the dining room with the high ceiling when she saw the imposing stature of the five faes in front of her sisters. They looked extremely intimidating, and the fear on Elain and Nesta's faces only confirmed her hypothesis. Feyre quickly introduced her sisters to the faes.

Nesta stood in front of Elain in a protective gesture, while Elain kept herself from fainting.

“And where's your other sister? Luxiana,” asked Rhysand, trying to sound as detached as possible. 

Feyre squinted for a moment. Rhysand was looking at every corner of the room and had used a peculiar tone as if he were asking the question out of curiosity, but she had clearly seen how Cassian and Azriel had frozen and strained their ears waiting for the answer.

Her best friend was beautiful and she knew it. In other circumstances, knowing she'd made a great impression on these three faes might have made her smile if it weren't for those three evil faes over there.

“She's not my sister, she's my best friend,” replied Feyre. “And she makes sure the last member of house staff has left. She shouldn't be… long.”

Feyre had barely finished her sentence when the pretty blonde entered the room. She froze at the sight of the faes, but there was no reaction on her face. It was as if she'd expected or was used to seeing such handsome and imposing creatures.

Luxiana's expression was cold and serious, that said, and though she tried to hide it, she was tired from the tears she'd shed all afternoon and which were still glistening on her cheeks. 

This realization could have torn the hearts of the three Illyrians apart, but they were just far too caught up by the beauty of their soul mate and the dozens of strange sensations stirring in their chests to pay any more attention to anything else. Perhaps it was simply due to their mating bond, but they could have sworn that the room and the atmosphere around them had become brighter and more colorful when she entered.

Luxiana was in no way intimidated when she first laid her eyes on Azriel, slowly detailing him from head to toe. A shiver ran down her spine. He seemed cold and intimidating. It occurred to her that he was the most dangerous in the room.

Azriel had squinted in surprise and his heart had started pounding like mad in his chest when the blonde's electric blue eyes landed on him. She'd seen him first. Nobody usually saw him first, especially not when he was trying, as he was now, to blend into the shadows to be less intimidating. No, people, even the most experienced faes, usually only saw him when he decided to be seen, or just by chance out of the corner of their eye. But she had set her eyes directly on him. Without knowing why, though, the shadows that always surrounded him had gone to hide behind his back, as if it was intimidated by the young woman and her light. That said, Azriel could hear them whispering from here. ‘Our mate’, ‘Our’, ‘Mine’, they kept repeating, or perhaps it was Azriel's inner voice. 

Luxiana then slid her gaze to Rhysand and detailed him in the same way. He seemed arrogant and pretentious. He tilted his head with a smirk. He seemed confident, but a flash of playfulness shone in his eyes and Luxiana loved to play. She could only return his expression, but squinted in an attempt to see through him.

Rhysand was trying to make a good impression. He almost prayed to the cauldron that the blonde's eyes would land on him too, and when they had, he was intrigued by her reaction to him. He almost collapsed. Fortunately, he recovered so quickly that no one sawn it, but he almost fell to the ground because of the blonde that was so fucking breathtaking. In fact, that's what happened to him, he was breathless by the mere fact that this girl noticed him, and he was thanking the cauldron he was a good actor when all he wanted to do was throw himself on his knees in front of her and beg her to touch him.

Then Luxiana set her eyes on Cassian without leaving the smirk she stole from Rhysand. The last Illyrian was the most imposing of them all, the most muscular and should look the most dangerous, yet Luxiana just had the impression that he was the least intimidating. Her smile widened to the point of sympathetic mockery. She just wanted to pinch his cheeks.

When the blonde laid eyes on him, Cassian was dead. He died at least three or four times, his heart having stopped beating, then bursting violently against his chest before stopping again. He stared at the woman in front of him and could do nothing but admire her beauty. He was doing his best not to think about the obscene things he wanted to do to her lips or that irresistible urge to plunge his tongue into her dimple that had formed on his cheek at her smirk. A smile Cassian was more than eager to make her lose by kissing her until she forgot to breathe.

Although the scene and Luxiana's analysis were unfolding rapidly, time seemed to stand still and the world to stop to contemplate the encounter between the three faes and the blonde.

When their mate's eyes fell on Lucien at their side, a feeling of anger and jealousy gripped the guts of the three Illyrians. They didn't like the idea of their betrothed setting her eyes on anyone other than the three of them. It was an intense jealousy that none of them had ever felt, and it burned through their entire bodies, forcing them to clench their fists. They tried to reassure themselves that they certainly wouldn't overreact to a simple glance, but the only thing they wanted was to rip Lucien's skin off.  

Then Luxiana's gaze fell on Tamlin and she lost her smile. Her expression regained the gravity with which she had entered the room. Her eyebrows furrowed and her teeth clenched. She was annoyed. She recognized him. He was in the spring court high lord's palace when she infiltrated to find Feyre, because he was the spring court high lord. It was because of him that her best friend had ended under the mountain and had to go through all those atrocities. He did nothing to save her, and perhaps he could have done nothing other than what he'd already done to protect her, but it wasn’t enough. It wasn't enough for Luxiana. 

Explosive anger bubbled in the blonde's chest. She clenched her fists as she took long strides towards Tamlin.

“You,” she spat, pointing at him.

Tamlin winced, raising both hands in the air and rolling his eyes. This human was driving him out of his mind uncontrollably and he would love to shut her up, but she was the person Feyre cared about the most so he had to try and calm things down. 

“Listen,” he began, only to be interrupted by a monstrous slap from Luxiana.

Rhysand, Cassian and Azriel were initially surprised by the anger that emerged on the pretty blonde's face. Firstly, because they found her even sexier that way, but also because she seemed far too sweet, affectionate and innocent to feel that kind of negative emotions. So when she fearlessly slapped the high lord of the spring court, they could only admire the bravery of this human girl who just provoked a powerful fae almost twice her size in length and breadth. 

Tamlin, who looked as if his ego was bruised by being slapped by a human, was wide-eyed at first, before turning his murderous gaze on Luxiana. Without waiting, she wanted to slap him again, but Tamlin fiercely grabbed her wrist before she could reach his cheek.

Tamlin let out a menacing growl which snapped the three brothers out of their contemplation. How dare he touch her ? If he just thought a second of hurting her, the three Illyrians knew that anything would stop them for tearing him to pieces, no matter what that meant for the Spring Court or the Night Court. The three of them were about to throw themselves between him and her to protect their mate from the bastard, but before they could even move, she gave him an impressively forceful calf kick to his genitals.

Tamlin fell to his knees as he released her, hands between his thighs as he groaned in pain with such power it sounded like he could cry. 

Rhysand, Cassian and Azriel froze, then exploded with laughter. Admiring to see so much anger and courage in such a small body as Luxiana's. 

Rhysand laughed. He was laughing, and he hadn't laughed in fifty years.

The blonde didn't even give them any attention, far too focused on killing Tamlin with her eyes.

“It's all your fault!” she shouted at the kneeling blond. “Feyre has suffered because of you!”

“Luxiana,” Feyre called out, grabbing her by the arm and trying to pull her back. 

Feyre knew that Luxiana was angry and that she thought Tamlin was responsible for everything that had happened to her, and although a part of her had relished the beating her best friend had given to her lover, she knew she was entirely to blame. She had decided to go into the mountains to save him, even though he had kept her away to protect her. She still had nightmares about it, but it was in no way Tamlin's fault. 

Luxiana knew all that, she understood it. But she needed to throw her hatred and guilt on someone other than herself. She was the only one who failed to protect Feyre. She would have died under that mountain if Rhysand hadn't been there.

So Luxiana gently extricated herself from Feyre's grip and moved closer to Tamlin. The latter stood up abruptly, growling, anger distorting his face. He towered over Luxiana.

“Tam, stop,” Lucien advised worriedly.

“I am a high lord,” Tamlin hissed through clenched teeth, ignoring his friend, ”I forbid you to disrespect me like that.”

The scene had the merit of calming Rhysand, Cassian and Azriel, who regained their seriousness. Their fists clenched until their knuckles turned white. 

“Oh, you poor thing,” scoffed Luxiana.

“I could snap your neck like a twig,” threatened Tamlin with a glare as she took a step towards her.

Azriel growled an animal sound far more violent than the one Tamlin had uttered, Cassian took a step forward to grab Luxiana by the elbow and place her behind him and Rhysand took a step forward. 

“I'd advise you to be extremely careful about what you say and who you threaten if you don't want me to rip out your tongue and give it to that girl as an apology trophy,” Rhysand growled in a deep voice with a threatening cold face.

Luxiana opened her mouth wide as she detailed the three imposing Illyrians who had stood in front of her to protect her from the high lord of the spring court. She had no need of protection, but she loved the fact that they protected her without even knowing her, and she loved even more the hatred that burned in their eyes as they looked at Tamlin. These faes seemed to hate Tamlin as much as she did, which made them Luxiana's best allies. 

Tamlin petrified, but an angry grimace twitched his nostrils and distorted his expression. Luxiana noticed that he had tensed up and was clenching his fists. He seemed to be afraid of the violet-eyed high lord who had just come to her defense, which meant that this fae was more powerful than Tamlin. Everything lit up in Luxiana's mind.

The blonde was well aware of the animosity that reigned between the lords of the courts, but she sensed that the three brown haired males were just waiting for a good reason to attack Tamlin. They had now irrevocably become her best allies and were, above all, faes capable of hurting Tamlin more than she was, especially as she didn't want to cause her best friend's husband too much pain, even though she was dying to do it. 

Luxiana shifted slightly from Cassian's body to put her head between the Illyrian's imposing wings and the violet-eyed fae's body.

Rhysand, Cassian and Azriel heard her move and turned to look at her. 

“Yeah, watch your mouth or they'll beat the shit out of you,” said Luxiana haughtily.  

The blonde's words made the three Illyrians smile uncontrollably, their chests lifting with pride as they raised their heads. There was no doubt that they loved what their soulmate was implying: that she felt safe with them and that they looked stronger and more intimidating than Tamlin. 

The high lord of the spring court glared menacingly at Luxiana and growled a warning. 

Rhysand, Cassian and Azriel's blood ran cold. How dare he look at her again? Rhysand unleashed his power without warning. Tamlin collapsed.

“Tamlin,” cried Feyre, throwing herself on top of her husband.

“He's not dead,” said Rhysand disinterestedly, without even looking at Feyre. “He's just asleep. And it'll be better for everyone that he remains until tomorrow.”

She glared at Rhysand, who didn't even calculate her, then at Luxiana. 

“What? You heard him, he'll get over it,” the blonde huffed, rolling her eyes. 

Feyre wasn't really surprised by her best friend's behavior. She'd always had guts and a fiery attitude. She was impulsive and always regretted her actions afterwards, that said, she didn't like seeing the man she loved down, unconscious because of her best friend.

Feyre huffed. Her face was contorted with worry as she tenderly stroked Tamlin's hair.

The three Illyrians turned to Luxiana, who was staring at Tamlin's body with pursed lips and a mocking expression. When she realized they were looking at her, she detailed them in turn for a moment, crossing her hands behind her back and smiling innocently with all her teeth. They were beautiful, and Luxiana only noticed it now as she detailed the three of them again quickly. They were the most beautiful creatures she had ever seen. Ever. 

The blonde returned her gaze to the pointy-eared fae, and the instant her blue pupils plunged into his violet eyes, Rhysand was electrified from head to toe. 

“You're the high lord of the night court, aren't you?” asked Luxiana, squinting her eyes to detail him further. 

She was asking, but she had no doubt. In any case, there was only one high lord who terrified all the others, and that was him. 

Rhysand nodded with a smirk and an air of pride. He loved the idea of this woman knowing him.

“You're the one who helped Feyre under the mountain,” she added. 

Rhysand lost his smile at the memory and the surprise. He hadn't expected her to bring up the subject. He nodded, not sure what else to do. 

“Helping is a big word,” Feyre grumbled, laying her lover's head on her lap.

Luxiana smiled without taking her eyes off Rhysand. 

“Don't pay any attention to what she says,” she rolled her eyes and smiled. “I understand that without you, Feyre would be dead.” 

She held out her hand with a gentle, sympathetic smile that made Rhysand swallow loudly.

“My name is Luxiana and thank you,” she added. “Thank you for saving my best friend.” 

Rhysand had no reason to take this woman's hand, no merit in doing so, yet he couldn't resist touching her. He reached out to squeeze the blonde's palm and was far too disturbed by the simple contact, which electrified him entirely. 

He leaned towards her to bring his face closer to the blonde's, trying to ignore the pleasant sensation of her slender hand in his.

“I didn't do it for her,” he whispered.

Luxiana chuckled, lowering her head. “It doesn't matter who you did it for, you did it, and that's what counts. It may not mean much to you, but you saved the life of the person I love most. I owe you a lot for that. I sincerely do. Thank you.”

Rhysand straightened in surprise. He had unknowingly saved the person his soulmate loved the most? She seemed sincere, and he wasn't sure why, but her thanks lifted a heavy weight from his shoulders and allowed him to take a deep, invigorating breath. Suddenly, everything that had happened under the mountain didn't matter that much if it meant he could receive the thanks of his mate. If it prevents his soul mate from suffering. If it allows him to meet his soul mate. 

“A human may not be able to give you much, but if one day you do need something,” she continued, leaning towards him with a smile, “oh great and powerful high lord of the night court Rhysand, and I will do my best to help you.” 

Rhysand laughed. He knew exactly what he'd like to ask her, but had no idea how to do it without sounding indecent or forcing her to do something. 

“Only my enemies call me Rhysand, call me Rhys,” demanded the high lord, keeping Luxiana's hand in his, impossible to tear himself away from her touch.

Luxiana smiled with all her teeth, bringing out two dimples that drove Rhysand mad and incoherent. Unconsciously, he tightened his grip on the blonde's hand to try to regain composure and not pounce on her, doing things to that mouth that would even make Azriel blush. 

Realizing that her hand was still into the lord's one, the blonde extricated herself from his grip. Rhysand had to fight the unpleasant feeling that a piece of himself was being torn away when she retrieved his hand, and had to grit his teeth to keep from taking it back. 

“Very well, oh high lord of the night court Rhys,” she teased him. “Don't hesitate.”

Cassian laughed and Azriel and Rhysand smiled.

“Mocking a fae lord,” remarked Cassian, ”you've really got guts. Do you know who we really are and how powerful we are?”

Unconcealed pride swelled the Illyrian's chest as Luxiana laughed and looked back at him. He loved it when she looked at him. 

“I've got an idea,” declared Luxiana. “You're Cassian, the commander of the armies.”

She returned her gaze to Azriel, who froze from head to toe, trying not to appear tense.

“And you're Azriel, the spy master.” 

She returned her gaze to the Illyrian with the red siphon.

“I've heard about you,” she continued.

And it was true. She had heard of them. The strongest Illyrians and the lord of the night court. All the rumors about them weren't very nice to hear. 

“Rumors say you're terrifying, that your people are unhappy and that you even torture children.”

A muscle twitches in Rhysand's jaw. Normally, these rumors about him making his people miserable didn't bother him and that's why he didn't waste his time contradicting them - it served his interests too well against his enemies - but today, he hated the idea of this woman thinking of him in this way.

“And you believe them?” asked Rhysand with a sudden cold voice. 

Luxiana smirked.

“I don't know yet, but to tell you the truth,” she replied, “you're not as intimidating as the rumors say. In fact, you're not at all.”

Cassian raised an eyebrow in astonishment. This little piece of woman didn't find them intimidating, even though she was probably as small as Amren and a fragile human with no powers. Did she have guts or simply no instinct for self-preservation?

“Well, except him,” she continued, pointing at Azriel, “he's intimidating. Well, a little bit.”  

Azriel squinted. He wasn't sure how he felt about that. He certainly liked the fact that he appeared more intimidating than his brothers and would be harping on them for a long time, but he certainly didn't like the fact that he was scaring the one who was undoubtedly his soul mate. He almost cursed himself that this was the case, but it wasn't fear that trailed in the blonde's blue eyes when she set them on him, but intrigue. If Azriel intimidated her, she loved it, and this realization could only make him smile. He loved having that effect, especially on this woman.

“What's he got that we don't?” vexed Cassian, directly wounded in the ego. 

Not that he'd like the idea of intimidating his mate, but that normally shouldn't be the case for all three of them. 

Luxiana smiled, hilarious in anticipation of what she was about to say and knowing full well what it meant to Illyrians.

“He got bigger wings.”

Cassian and Rhysand made big eyes at Azriel, who burst out laughing. 

“What?” gasped Cassian. “No, he did not.” 

Luxiana pursed her lips to keep from laughing and had to lower her head so they wouldn't notice. 

“That's enough,” raged Nesta, “enough wasted time. The cook has left us a meal. Let's eat so it'll be over quicker.” 

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Plot Twists

Plot twist - a surprise development in your story.

A good plot twist forces the reader to think about it, even if you’re away from the story.

Years later, the reader may still reminisce about a plot twist that threw them for a loop.

How you can create a solid plot twist:

Introduce the Plot Twist Whenever You’d Like

Plot twists may appear anywhere within a story but are usually most effective after some careful setup.

While it’s technically possible to swing a plot twist within the first chapter, it’s difficult to do.

In the beginning of your story, the reader is open and the rules of assumption haven’t been established yet.

You need to lay the ground rules before you twist them.

Don't be Obvious

The first commandment of plot twists is that they shouldn't be obvious.

Plot twists need to be totally unexpected.

You shouldn’t be able to guess it, but once you go back and read it, you should be able to see the signs.

Don't Show Your Card Too Soon

Foreshadowing is essential, but when you’re setting up a plot twist, you can’t reveal too much.

Otherwise, the reader will be able to guess what will happen, and it won’t be a twist at all.

Withhold the information until it cannot be withheld any longer.

This helps to increase the tension within your story.

Immediately after inserting a plot twist, the story proceeding should become better and stronger.

The reader will hunt back through the story, looking for clues that this twist would happen. Clues should be there--sparingly.

Use Plot Twists Sparingly

Don’t overuse plot twists.

If you’d like to create a reputation for including plot twists in your stories, limit it to one twist per story.

Otherwise, the reader will stop trusting you.

Your storytelling will come off as cheap thrills without substance.

But, remember that you don’t need to include a plot twist to weave a compelling tale.

The less you use this literary device, the more surprised your reader will be.

Use Plot Twists to Push the Characters Towards Action

In the middle of your story, characters can grow stagnant.

When they’re plodding along towards a vague goal, it’s easy to get stuck in the mundane.

This is the perfect time to insert a plot twist.

When faced with a sudden change of circumstances, the characters will be forced to respond.

What will they do? How will it change their goals?

Use Plot Twists to Reveal Character

Sometimes, plot twists can be planted within a character’s backstory.

This way, you can reveal something about the character that catches the reader off guard.

Examples: Perhaps the character killed someone in the past. Maybe they are the long-lost daughter of the antagonist.

Once the reader finds out, it changes everything.

But it’s not just the reader who may find out about the character.

The character can also discover something about themselves or another character.

This type of plot twist is known as anagnorisis, or discovery.

Use Plot Twists to Change the Character’s Fortune

There’s a certain type of plot twist known as peripeteia that you may wish to consider in your story.

Peripeteia is a sudden reversal of fortune.

Historically, peripeteia is a shift from good circumstances to bad.

It’s tragic, it’s bleak, it’s heartbreaking, but it can make for a poignant story.

If you’re a rebel, peripeteia can also be used to convert the character’s fortune from bad to good. But be careful here.

You don’t want to force an unrealistic ending on your story that will ring untrue.

Remember the above tip: Plot twists should be believable.

Unfortunately, it’s easier to believe something going from good to bad than going from bad to good.

Create a False Protagonist

One of the trickiest plot twists to conceive is the false protagonist.

You introduce a protagonist, but then he or she suddenly dies.

Of course, for this type of plot twist to happen, you need to have the real protagonist waiting in the wings and ready to take over.

The reader should already be familiar with the true protagonist.

It can be a huge shift for the reader to make, so don’t use this plot twist unless you’re sure that it’s worth the risk.

Poetic Justice

The idea that characters get what they deserve (both good and bad) is supposed to be unexpected.

However, poetic justice is so overused that it’s become a cliche.

That’s not to say that you can’t serve poetic justice in your story.

However, if you do, consider setting it up so that it’s completely unexpected.

All hope seems lost, and out of nowhere, poetic justice.

Don’t actually make it appear out of nowhere.

The reader should be able to look back at the story and see how this ending is possible.

Introduce the Plot Twist During a Flashback

Another way to introduce a plot twist is within a flashback.

When done correctly, a flashback should always reveal something of interest. But, your flashback can also change the entire trajectory of your story.

If you do insert a plot twist in a flashback, pay special attention to timing:

When should you introduce the flashback for maximum effect?

How can the flashback aid in pushing the story forward?

Source

More: Types of Plot Twists ⚜ Writing Notes & References

[richea]

[Translation] Kratos of the Expiation: Prologue-Chapter 1 part 1

This begins my efforts to translate the Tales of Symphonia novel, Shokuzai no Kratos, written by the game's scenario writer, Takumi Miyajima.

Some disclaimers:

I have other projects I'm working on alongside this, so I won't make any promise to get this translated in a timely manner, or that I'll finish it at all (though in a perfect world, I would love to; I had a lot of fun translating this first part!). If I do the whole thing, I'll share my original document, which will have an edited version of the text you'll read below. Think of this as a first draft.

I've never translated a novel before nor am I much of a creative writer, so I apologize in advance if it's an awkward read. I focused heavily on making sure Miyajima's words got across as intended, but given Japanese novels are written differently from English ones, I don't want to put too many words in her mouth here.

The book has 7 chapters and a prologue and epilogue, but as each chapter is really long (about 40 pages each), I'll be sharing the book in its smaller, also numbered parts. So, this is the prologue and part 1/37. My word processor says this alone is around 3300 words.

I want to give a huge thank you to Kevan33 for providing me with scans for this, which allowed me to translate it so much easier.

Without further ado, here's the summary and character introductions, and then the story itself!

Summary

Long ago, Mithos, the hero, brought about the end of the Ancient War in the Holy Ground of Kharlan. As a result, the world was split in two―as Sylvarant and Tethe’alla. However, the worlds exist akin to a waning hourglass, with one of them prospering and the other in decline. It has been 4,000 years since the end of the Ancient War, and now Sylvarant is on the path to ruin, as it has run low on its life-sustaining mana. It is in these circumstances that Kratos will descend unto Sylvarant and have a fateful, unexpected reunion! This is a side story which tells Kratos’ side of the story, who was a key character in the original game. The feelings he’s hidden in his heart will finally be revealed to all!

Cast

Kratos Aurion: This story’s protagonist. A traveling mercenary and remarkable swordsman who was hired to protect Colette on her journey. His true identity is one of the Four Heroes who ended the Ancient War 4,000 years ago, as well as an angel of Cruxis―one of the Four Seraphim.

Lloyd Irving: A young man from the village of Iselia. His grades in school are poor, but he’s quick-witted and good at making the right decision on the fly. Due to certain circumstances, he accompanies Colette on her Journey of World Regeneration.

Yggdrasill: The leader of Cruxis and one of the members of the Four Seraphim. He is Mithos the Hero who brought about the end of the Ancient War, as well as the person who split the world in two, orchestrating this system the world currently runs by.

Yuan Ka-Fai: Leader of the Renegades, which opposes Cruxis. He was one of the Four Heroes and is one of the Four Seraphim.

Martel Yggdrasill: Yggdrasill’s sister. She died 4,000 years ago when humans betrayed and killed her.

Genis Sage: A best friend of Lloyd and Colette. One of the smartest people in his village. He uses magic.

Raine Sage: Genis’ sister. She’s the only teacher in Iselia, so everyone calls her Professor.

Colette Brunel: Sylvarant’s Chosen. She leaves her hometown to go on the Journey of World Regeneration.

Zelos Wilder: Tethe’alla’s Chosen. He hangs around with Lloyd’s group as a spy for Cruxis.

Prologue

The boy introduced himself as Lloyd Irving.

We met in the small, remote village of Iselia. Back when the Sylvarant Dynasty held its rule, it was a prospering village deemed as the headquarters of the Church of Martel. Now it’s but a desolate village, with such a tale only to be seen as an attraction at best.

There were a number of things that led to this state. What brought about the fall of the Sylvarant Dynasty was a decrease in the world’s life-sustaining mana. This led to environmental changes, poor crops, and eventually poverty to the people. Iselia was not the only place that was affected by these changes. The land of Sylvarant―once famed as a kingdom of its own right―slowly slipped down the path of desolation.

What spurred this series of events was a group known as the Desians. The organization, rumored to consist primarily of half-elves, is known to kidnap people from all over the world and place them in institutions known as human ranches. While it’s unknown to the common folk what takes place in these institutions, fear is struck in the hearts of those who see the Desians, as it is fabled by the Church of Martel that the end of the world is coming should they lurk around.

Yes; Sylvarant is on the path of desolation. Within these circumstances, there exists the promised land of Iselia, which is the only place in which salvation may be brought about. The hope for this world is being fostered within Iselia’s land.

The sound of grass being trampled from far away could be heard. It was such a quiet sound, unable to be picked up by human ears.

Kratos Aurion slowly opened his eyes. Deep within the forest, the distant shadows of the leaves shook.

Are you coming, Lloyd?

Thinking of him, Kratos found himself oddly content. A sense of relief washed over him, that finally, the end was approaching. He felt elated, though could not place a finger on why. He had regained his sense of hope, which he had been convinced was long gone. However, the important step in achieving said hope was yet to come.

The footsteps grew louder. At this, all of the forest dwellers collectively fled in response. They could tell that within this tranquil forest, something big was about to happen.

The air seemed to turn tense as a mass of figures approached. A group of eight―all being different ages and genders―approached with stern looks on their faces. The one leading the pact was Lloyd.

The boy’s name seemed ordinary enough, but to Kratos it held deeper meaning. “Irving” was the surname of his late wife. “Lloyd” was the name of the child Kratos thought to have lost.

Lloyd and his friends were on a journey to carry out what they believed to be world salvation.

I wonder if they've brought about salvation yet?

No. The end hasn’t even begun yet.

Kratos rose and approached Lloyd and his friends, in order to see their “salvation” through to the end.

Chapter 1

Part 1 of 6

It’s a wonder just how many people would believe it if they were told the world had been split into two. Many would likely laugh it off, claiming it to be a fairy tale. The land seems unsifted, and there’s no crevices to be seen after all. Nobody would dare suggest the moon in the sky is actually another planet, would they?

Even a fairy tale would require an allegory to hold its basis.

The truth of the matter is that the world had been split in two. The dimensional rift had been cut through, pushing the planets into an orbit. The two worlds exist on a plane together, never to see or touch the other. Despite this, the two worlds do in fact coexist alongside each other. One of these worlds is, for convenience, known as Sylvarant. This world was ruled by the old Sylvarant Kingdom and its allied nations. The other is Tethe’alla. Like with Sylvarant, this world too was ruled by the kingdom of Tethe’alla, and got its name as such.

“These two worlds, as well as our planet of Derris-Kharlan, are ruled by Lord Yggdrasill.”

The angel known as Adol was explaining the structure of Cruxis to a group of newly awakened angels. Kratos was watching them through a monitor, and shook his head exhaustedly.

This was a ritual he had seen far too many times at this point. Over the course of 4,000 years, here on Derris-Kharlan, he had watched as a number of living beings known as angels were born. No, perhaps that’s not the right way to describe it―he had watched as many people had undergone a transformation to turn into the lifeless beings known as angels.

Thankfully, the number wasn’t too high. A tool known as the Cruxis Crystal was required to turn people into angels, of which there weren’t many to spare. With them being so scarce and precious, only selected individuals were allowed to become angels. From there, the angels would undergo special training and become soldiers, fighting to support Cruxis.

Kratos was one of those angels himself. He had a different position than the other angels, however. He was famed as one of the Four Seraphim, the highest rank within Cruxis, and operated directly under the world’s leader―Mithos Yggdrasill.

“Through the Church of Martel, our job is to guide the people of both Sylvarant and Tethe’alla. This does not only apply to half-elves, but extends to elves and humans alike. We will guide them down the proper path, to one day make our Age of Lifeless Beings a reality. A great weight lies upon all of your shoulders.”

Not a single person was moved by Adol’s words. At first, lifeless beings―rather, angels―have their emotions almost entirely suppressed. It takes great strength and time to gain control over those emotions once more. There are some who go the rest of their lives never regaining theirs.

“Lord Kratos.”

An angel appeared on his projector―one with white wings. Kratos instantly identified him as an inexperienced angel. When a person turns into an angel, numerous functions of their body undergo a change. One of these is adjusting the distribution of mana in the body to produce wings, allowing them to pull them out as needed in order to fly. However, if one uses their wings too much, their bodily mana materializes the wings and makes it a permanent part of the body. One of the key functions of turning into an angel is being able to control various bodily functions, though the reality of it is that many are unable to control them properly. A large number of the angels within Cruxis have wings like the man Kratos sees here.

“What is it?”

“Lord Yggdrasill has summoned you.”

“...Understood.”

The messenger angel bowed and disappeared. Kratos turned off the video on his monitor and left his office.

A throne of darkness, suspended in the empty sky. What you’ll find in the deepest part of Derris-Kharlan―far beyond Welgaia, where Cruxis’ angels live―is Vinheim. This was where the castle of Yggdrasill, the man who split the worlds into two and ruler of both, resided.

As Kratos stepped towards the throne, Yggdrasill leaned on the armrest as a calm smile crawled onto his face.

“You’ve come, Kratos.”

That languid voice of his was the same as ever. It was the same as it was when Kratos defected 70 years ago. Though the light in his green eyes shone differently than normal.

“Kratos Aurion, reporting for duty.”

Kratos stepped closer to the throne and kneeled in front of it. This exchange of formalities was something he had done in submission to the man over the course of the past 15 years.

“There’s no need for such formalities. I called you here today to talk about our past.”

At this, Kratos’ leader―rather, the leader of the entire world―Yggdrasill suddenly rose to his feet.

“Do you remember the day we first met, Kratos?”

As Kratos nodded, the man famed as a ruler effortlessly changed his form. His once tall figure shrunk in the blink of an eye, and his limbs shrunk with it.

“It was in the imperial capital of Tethe’alla. I was still a child, who knew no fear and who truly believed in the goodness of humanity. Since the worlds had yet to be split, the two countries ravaged in a revolting, long-lasting war.”

What stood before Kratos wasn’t the beautiful young man who was a ruler. It was a petite 14-year-old boy.

Seeing this transformation always horrified Kratos. What he feared wasn’t Yggdrasill, but instead the lifeless beings known as Cruxis Crystals, which allowed the body to transform in such a way.

When the elves in ancient times moved from Derris-Kharlan to the earth, they first planted the Giant Kharlan Tree―the source of mana―and then brought along many crafts and techniques. One of those was the material known as Exspheres. However, over the course of 5,000 years, the knowledge of their intended use and what they were originally made for became lost to time. All that was left was the knowledge that they were advanced beings. They became known as a thing that could protect its user and elevate their abilities to the maximum. Such a thing was then turned into weapons of combat during the Kharlan Wars, which occurred 5,000 years ago.

What brewed was an intermittent yet vicious conflict between Sylvarant and Tethe’alla. In order to get the upper hand, both sides developed magitechnology based weapons, and research developments led to Exspheres finding new use cases. Cruxis Crystals were developed in order to allow soldiers who equipped them to become even stronger and turn into angels. Those who equipped Cruxis Crystals would undergo a physical, battle-ready transformation into an angel, allowing them to also manipulate their hearing, vision, and sense of pain at will. On top of this, those with a strong compatibility with the crystals would be able to control their internal clock at will.

The ability to change one’s internal clock―what a terrifying thing that was. It almost felt as if people had reached into god’s domain. Yes, the boy with the innocent-looking smile on his face that currently stood in front of him had violated god’s domain.

“What’s wrong, Kratos?”

Yggdrasill tilted his head at Kratos, whose face was warped with agony.

“Watching me change form surely isn’t that surprising. Or does it hurt to see me in this form?”

Kratos cast his eyes downward.

It’d be a lie to deny such a thing. The young boy in front of him now looked exactly like the Mithos Yggdrasill he had traveled with so long ago. Some part of Kratos tried hard to separate the two in his head―Mithos, the young boy who worked tirelessly to save the world and was famed as a hero, and Mithos, the young man who fell into despair and cast away his humanity in favor of playing a poor imitation at god.

This was pure sophistry. Kratos knew this. However, it’s all he could manage to give himself even a little peace of mind. He didn’t need to slip further and make any more mistakes.

“I see. So it does hurt you. If you really feel that way, you surely won’t betray me again, right?”

He said this in a fondly-remembered tone of voice, and it felt like something was stabbing Kratos’ heart.

“Back then, you resigned as a knight for the Tethe’alla Kingdom and joined up with us. It was you who said you’d make a place where all of us half-elves could live in peace, and that to that end, your power was ours to use however fit.”

“...Indeed I did say that.”

“Then surely you know where I’m going with this. The Age of Lifeless Beings I’m creating will rid all of the discrimination half-elves face. It’ll be a utopia where everyone can live in peace.”

Facing the ground, Kratos debated on whether or not to voice the words that were forming deep in his throat. Mithos paid it no heed and continued on.

“Soon, Sylvarant’s Chosen will receive the oracle.”

At this, Kratos snapped his head up. Yggdrasill smiled at him like an angel. Well, he was an angel, in a literal sense.

“This Chosen of Regeneration is a 99.999999999% match. This is even closer than the Chosen Spiritua was. This time, we’ll succeed. My sister will finally be revived.”

The revival of Yggdrasill’s sister―Martel Yggdrasill―held a lot of meaning. The reason the world was still split into two was all for Martel’s sake. One huge mistake made 4,000 years ago changed everything.

When the elves planted the Giant Kharlan Tree on this world, mana brought forth lifeforms and completely changed the nature of the planet. Mana was used to power magic and magitechnology, and before long, mana itself had been overused. This overuse led to the fountain of all life, the Giant Kharlan Tree, withering.

“We were only ever fighting to save the Giant Kharlan Tree. We got our hands on the Great Seed, and were going to plant it to bring forth a new tree. But of course, humans wanted to hog the mana all for themselves, and they killed my sister, who was protecting the seed...”

Mithos’ tranquil face warped with hatred and disgust.

“But I’m so nice that I’m allowing those vermin to live. In fact, I’m such a nice guy, I’m even inviting them into my Age of Lifeless Beings. I’ve given them the compromise of a lifetime, Kratos. Martel exists as part of the Great Seed. The Great Seed is Martel herself. If I was any meaner, I would never share the mana from the Great Seed with those disgusting humans. But I’ve gone ahead and split the world into two, so that they can share the mana that comes from it.”

“Thanks to your system, one world is always suffering, while the other is prospering.”

“That’s what the Chosen is for. The Journey of Regeneration is one that reverses the flow of mana. When one world weakens, the mana from that world flows to the other. It’s like an hourglass. This is all we can do to keep our precious supply of mana from running out completely. You said you were on board with this, did you not?”

“Yes, as a temporary solution―”

“Oh, and it is temporary, I assure you. I already promised you―when my sister is revived, I’ll return the world back to normal. When she has a new body, there will be no need to protect the Great Seed as I am now. I’ll reunite the worlds into one and germinate the seed, allowing the Giant Kharlan Tree to grow. Then, my discrimination-free Age of Lifeless Beings will be born on earth...”

Mithos sat down on his throne, still in his child form. The throne was far too large for such a tiny body. Realizing this filled Kratos with a strange sense of sorrow.

“This Journey of Regeneration is not allowed to fail. If it does, we’ll lose the vessel for Martel’s soul, and this will spring us into another indefinite time frame of trying to make another. If that happens, the joined world you wish for so badly will be a long, long way off. So nobody is allowed to get in our way. Not even those rats.”

“You refer to the Renegades, I presume?”

“Yes. They camouflage themselves as Desians and do all sorts of things. You know of them?”

“I’ve received reports of them infiltrating all of the human ranches and stealing Exspheres.”

“Such a slacker, aren’t you, Kratos? Rats are to be exterminated.”

“I am sorry.”

“It’s fine. What they do matters little to me. Their tendency to kill Chosens is pesky, though. Therefore, I want you to escort this next Chosen for me. Protect her, guide her, and help her through the angel transformation as smoothly as possible.”

“I’m the overseer of Sylvarant, though. If I were to go on the Journey of Regeneration, I wouldn’t be around to have Pronyma put the Desians into motion.”

“I will handle that myself. Protecting the Chosen is our top priority. Surely you know this. Following my orders is what will allow you to see your dreams come true.”

To return the world to its proper state―this required fulfilling Mithos’ wish of reviving Martel, and it was the correct path to take. No; perhaps he had just lost the will to choose another path. Kratos had no means of defying such a path.

[highdio]

Pleeease, write your thoughts about the musical lol. I really like your Dio meta posts <3

Just a disclaimer: this is really opinionated but I don't like to drag media for its own sake. There were lots of things to like in the Phantom Blood musical, just ... Dio wasn't one of them. Also, Mamoru Miyano threw himself into the performance he was asked for, so it's hardly his fault. It's just always amazing to me that people feel the need to rewrite Dio into someone else when the way Araki's written him is already perfect, complete and a lot of fun.

So, where to start? Basically, the Phantom Blood musical re-writes Dio, giving him a different personality and different motivations through OOC stage direction along with a bunch of original dialog and scenes. What results is a version of Phantom Blood where "Dio" is just a normal guy without charisma who had a bad childhood and spends most of the story being miserable. Dio as he's written in canon has an uncommon charisma and appeal that's allowed him to remain relevant as one of those 'all-time great' villains. Scene after scene in the musical prove that its creative team either didn't read the manga or just really didn't like Dio.

fwiw Araki wrote Dio as thoroughly fleshed-out, with consistent traits and behaviors and consistent motivations behind his actions. He also left a paper trail of interviews and author's commentaries that develop Dio even more fully beyond the manga. So there's really no excuse for media that treat Dio as some sort of empty vessel waiting to be filled by narrative cliches we already know and expect.

It's annoying too, because, along with its OOC content, the musical is peppered with occasional manga-consistent moments. It's like the musical is camouflaging its Very Bad Take on Dio by having Mamoru Miyano periodically re-enact the canon character's most famous panels. The musical wants simultaneously to take credit for bringing Araki's vision to life on the stage, while at the same time completely undermining its most important element: a capital V "Villain" who, according to Araki, "accepts and embraces his evil nature, and follows his dark path without hesitation." This is the biggest change the musical makes to Dio: musical!Dio has none of the confidence that allows canon Dio him to move so decisively and destructively through the narrative.

Musical Dio is introduced by a scene where he's bullied on his way home, before breaking into a song about how terrible his life is, where "everything is always taken from [him]" ("it's hell …I feel nauseated …[I'm] under a cloudy sky.") The song is alternately tearful and hopeful. "I'm going crazy from being robbed!" he laments and then pollyannaishly muses, "hey, Joestar, can you turn my [cloudy] skies to blue?"

If Dio being introduced as a sad sap and self-described perennial loser hoping for any break sounds attitudinally unfamiliar that's because it is. Araki went in the opposite direction: he started his story by subverting the cliche - wide-eyed poor boy victimized by circumstance leaves his sorrow-filled life hoping for a new start - and instead gave us a kid with surprising, even sinister agency. Dio is not just given a hero's upward narrative arc (something Araki crafted very deliberately), he's introduced improbably in his first scene from a position of control. This fact is important because in the manga it's a position he won't lose until four chapters and nearly 100 pages in, when Jonathan finally fights back. From the time young Dio is introduced - reading a book with his back turned to his bed-ridden father who he's secretly poisoning -

- to the time he's systematically broken down his adoptive brother's spirit by alienating him from his friends, taking Erina's first kiss, and of course kicking his dog, Dio is shown as being in control and on top (Erina drinking the muddy water is the only exception). It's OOC to imagine 12-year old Dio feeling sorry for himself because at the time he's introduced, he's already made a habit of getting what he wants. By the time he sets off for the Joestars after killing his first dad, he's already developed full confidence in his abilities and the inevitability of his rise to riches (something Araki has him explicitly state and then underscores with a panel illustration of a steam train signaling the rise of Modernity).

But the writers and director of the musical don't find this characterization interesting enough or something. So they lose the canon entirely and in its place they invent a version of Dio who's despondent. And they didn't get Araki's steam train memo so they miss the Modernity theme (even though Araki's tied Dio so tightly conceptually to the idea of the Modern that he has him "use a 20th century boxing technique in the 19th century"); instead they double down on class difference being determinative. It never occurs to them that Dio is written specifically by Araki with the freedom to move outside of his social status because he sees it as artificial (the "evil elite" monologue later reveals Dio thinks of the whole social contract thing is arbitrary and voluntary).

Throughout the musical, Dio (although it's not fair to Mamoru Miyano since he isn't responsible for writing this mess, let's use mamoDio from now on because it's easier) seems to idolize the Joestars for what he calls their "beautiful blood." Not "beautiful" because usable calories for the vampire he will become but "beautiful" because noble. The Joestars' noble status and the honor that's apparently behind that status become the shining "star" toward which mud-bound mamoDio flailingly, failingly reaches. I don't need to tell you that in canon Dio doesn't have respect for nobility.

"Mud and stars" is heavy-handedly introduced as a dominant theme of the musical. According to the play, Jonathan, noble and bright, looks to the stars while human Dio, pathetic, conflicted and even confused, can only see life as a mud-soaked prison.

Now, the mud and stars thing was only used in Part 1 as a single text element on a Volume 1 illustration but, in spite of its marginality, it's becomes a liturgical text for some fans looking for an explanation for Dio's actions beyond what Araki gives them in the actual narrative. To this sort of fan, a guy who embraces his inner talent for evil and never had the misfortune of developing a moral compass isn't the right type of villain because he's unapologetic. If the villain doesn't have excuses how can you apologize for him? So they need Dio and by extension Araki to give them a "good enough" reason to accept Dio's ever-escalating atrocities. If the reasons Dio has for doing the things he does lie outside of what's considered good or acceptable, they are simply rejected and new reasons are invented in the hope of making Dio much less objectionable.

Now, like I said earlier, Araki's repeatedly told us in his writings that Dio has an upward narrative trajectory, not a downward, "mud"-bound one. The mud and stars duality fails to describe the narrative journey of the two main characters: both look upward to transcend their circumstances and travel along a shonen manga hero's rising path. (In fact, it's Jonathan who needs a good push to realize his potential, something Dio happily provides). And it's Jonathan, not Dio, who Araki first gives a downward arc, being handed defeat after defeat for those first four chapters before gaining his footing and progressively rising to Dio's challenges. "Mud and stars" isn't just a bad choice of metaphor, it's a misleading one.

Back to the musical, mamoDio is the exact opposite. An air of sadness and insecurity haunts his performance. An original scene where George presents the mud and stars dilemma as a lesson highlights Dio's lack of confidence and the depression that lurks behind it, as Dio bemoans how people doomed to "struggle and die" cannot possibly summon the hope it takes to look up to the stars (he's talking of course about himself).

Likewise, and here's where mamoDio's failure as a character really comes into full relief, seven years after this, when Dio's machinations are revealed and he's about to be arrested, before he uses the stone mask, mamoDio drops to the floor and spends the better part of a musical number in tears, bemoaning his sorry life ("I'm trapped in a prison covered in mud… no matter how hard I struggle I'm crushed…") and his lack of noble blood.

(btw this is after the manga scene where Dio fake cries; here, mamoDio is genuinely distraught).

Contrast this to the actual scene in the manga. His expressions in these panels are memorable because of how assured Araki draws him. Dio's entire world - his poisoning scheme, his grab at what one can assume would have been the entirety of the Joestar estate - is about to end but instead of despairing, he launches into a philosophical soliloquy. His body language is haughty: this isn't mamoDio crawling on the ground and decrying his upbringing and lack of noble blood, instead this is a man who apparently, almost irrationally, perceives himself as noble. When he uses the mask, Dio is smiling widely. Metaphorically speaking, he's looking at the stars.

When mamoDio uses the mask? He's on his knees. He's in tears. On one night he interjects, "Mother…" In short, he's conflicted.

One of these depicts Dio. The other does not.

Now obviously the writers and director of the musical must think making these seismic changes adds something to Dio's character. But (and I feel like this is a theme whenever I write these things) I'd argue it only makes him more basic. It makes him predictable and formulaic, someone we've seen in countless other stories.

(Oh! and did I mention mamoDio repeatedly calls himself "useless"!! Because he does this.)

Now, because mamoDio has no confidence and as a human acts out of desperation, when he becomes a vampire he still isn't Dio. Mamoru tries to make his vampire Dio evil and scary by expending a lot of energy, running about the stage and sticking out his tongue ad nauseum. When you look at how Araki has Dio move physically throughout the manga, it's the opposite of kinetic. Dio is a point of fixity who's charisma draws others toward him (ask me for more on this if you want because there's enough here for its own post).

Now for the worst of the worst: at the very end of the production, after the manga ending that features Jonathan's death and Dio's (presumed) defeat as a head imprisoned in Jonathan's arms, the musical takes an original twist in which, following a finale number featuring most of the cast, mamoDio is lead offstage by Jonathan. You read that right. mamoDio is hunched over, resigned, and Jonathan seems to take on a paternal role. Although the lyrics would have you believe this has something to do with "two fates becoming one," it's clear from the stage direction that any embers of Dio's ambition are being tamed and extinguished as Jonathan takes Dio's grasping hand, subdues him, and leads him docilely into the darkness.

It turns out Dio's vampire arc was just a phase, a hurt and lonely child lashing out and making a mess for attention.

His body language here is obscenely out of character. Consider the following because, as I said in the opening, in spite of what all these re-writes of Dio would have you believe, Araki crafted Dio with specificity and consistency: Araki only draws Dio (with very few exceptions) 1) standing tall, looking down at you; 2) back turned, looking back and down at you; or simply 3) back turned, (performatively?) ignoring you. Dio is never on the ground except when he's knocked down (think, young Jonathan finally fighting back in the Joestar home or, much later, Jotaro stopping time and landing those punches). By constrast, mamoDio has spent an incessant amount of time of the ground, crouching, kneeling,, bowing, hunched down. Who is this guy? So his hunched-down exit in the final moments of the production, literally being led by Jonathan (controlled??), is so amazingly stupid that if I didn't have a gif as proof, you might think I'm just making this stuff up:

There's plenty more to unpack that I won't address here: ghost Dario. The lack of grave-spitting. The complete absence of true joy or leisure expressed by Dio especially during his vampire era: no woman eating her baby, no owlcats, no Poco's sister. No chaise lounge. No roses(!). No fun. Not for Dio. That would be too manga-consistent. That might mean Araki wasn't giving us the appropriate message that bad guys are actually just sad guys.

tl;dr Dio isn't in the Phantom Blood musical. He's replaced by a normal guy who's motivated by a lack of self-esteem and despair that he wasn't born into an upper-class household, or something. He's boring. The result? There can be no Part 3 in this musical's world (and presumably no Parts 4, 5 or 6, no Giorno, no Jolyne, … you get the picture) because mamoDio just gives up. It's a nicely produced little tale about Jonathan Joestar and some random other guy who at some point gets a funny green coat.

[whencyclopedia]

Ancient Christianities: The First Five Hundred Years

Paula Fredriksen is an eminent figure in the field of early Christianity and ancient Judaism, and her knowledge of the historical and religious circumstances surrounding these faiths is well-established. Her writings are essential reading for those curious about how religion, history, and culture interacted in the ancient Mediterranean.

Ancient Christianities: The First Five Hundred Years by Paula Fredriksen conveys precisely written ideas from the result of meticulously analyzing a great deal of historical data. Different branches of Christianity emerged simultaneously in reaction to a flourishing Judaism and an established religion that was not dead but was instead referred to as "paganism" by Christians. By delving into the subject of ancient "Christianities," new light is shown on the religious practices of the ancient cultures of the Mediterranean and the Middle East during the latter 200 years of the 1st century CE. Christian, Pagan, and Jewish faiths are discussed. The book itself contributes significantly to the history of Christianity and explores aspects of other religions.

Paula Fredriksen is a historian of early Christianity and William Goodwin Aurelio Professor of Scripture at Boston University. Early in her career, Fredriksen published writing on topics such as Christian antisemitism, Judaism, and Christianity. Now, in Ancient Christianities, Fredriksen traces the history of Christianity in the ancient Mediterranean from its nativity up to the 5th century. Throughout history, many people believed in the figure of Jesus transforming countries into monotheistic societies, and Fredriksen provides incalculable depth and insight into this process.

From its beginnings as a messianic sect within Second Temple Judaism to its ultimate inclusion into the late Roman imperial government and rise to prominence in the Western world following Roman rule, Fredriksen emphasizes the whole historical trajectory of Christianity from the 1st through 7th centuries. She ties together the intricate network of interactions among supernatural beings, the celestial bodies, spirits, and prophetic forces existing in the ancient "flat-disced" Earth and geocentric universe as well as the many ways in which the Pagan, Jewish, and Christian occupants of the Mediterranean interacted with these beings.

Fredriksen imparts her profound understanding of the history of Christianity and how the doctrines of the Abrahamic faiths have evolved through the ages in clear and understandable writing. In her view, the history of ancient “Christianities” is more deep and nuanced than previously thought, and she intends to "introduce the reader to the complexities and ambiguities, the ironies and surprises and the twists and turns" to reveal this. If you ask Fredriksen, the Christian faith does not have its roots just in Jesus, there is more to the origin story. Through her writing, she hopes to convey the idea that a "large cast of characters" is responsible for shaping modern religion.

According to her, the narrative and development of "Christianities" encompasses a wide range of characters, including aristocratic patrons, eccentric ascetics, gods, devils, angels, magicians, astrologers, and regular folks. The author examines the gradual conversion of numerous non-monotheistic faiths to monotheism over several centuries, drawing parallels and differences across various ethnic and theological traditions.

Theology, Israel, the impact of social factors including diversity, the necessity for governmental control, and persecutions on the development of Christianity are all covered in depth in the chapters that follow. Further discussions touch on the various regions impacted by the Second Temple Matrix, the connections between Jews and pagans, and the incorporation of Jewish people and culture into Greco-Roman civilization.

Historians, theologians, and anyone interested in the origins of one of the world's largest religious groups would benefit from reading this book, which focuses on the transition of Israel and the Jewish message of the end of time to the emergence of different gentile Christianities. With her unconventional viewpoint and extensive knowledge of the subject, Fredriksen offers readers an opportunity to learn something new. Fredriksen has been an excellent resource for scholars of global religions for decades, and her work is truly unique and rich in history; as a result, this is a recommended book. For further reading materials, readers would find Bart D. Ehrman's The Triumph of Christianity: How a Forbidden Religion Swept the World (2018) and Diarmaid MacCulloch's Christianity: The First Three Thousand Years (2009) to be suitable companion reads.

Continue reading...

[sunnydbeam]

If you ever do make that beta fic someone else asked for, how would the Y/N react to getting swapped with Biohazard's Y/N and vice versa? Also, go ahead and take some time to answer this. I know how much time it takes to think of a Y/N's personality, plot out the beginning, and just over all storyline- Please don't take this as forcing or demanding in any way, just thought it'd make some good shananagens lol ^^

Awaw don't worry!!

Hoho well, I have to be honest here. That Beta fanfic is already written, and the truth is that it's Biohazard's YN. The fic is rather meant to be seen as a spin-off or “what if?” since, of course, it's far from the meeting I had planned for these two in the original story. In this fic, Beta and YN meet much earlier and under different, friendlier circumstances. If they were two different YNs swapping places, I agree it would be fun! A YN who is used to the calmer personalities of Alpha and Beta being thrown into an unhinged, out of control robot would absolutely give them a heart attack! (and a couple of traumas). While the YN we already know, who has dealt with this mess is instead allowed to meet these two robots, would have a hard time trusting them not to hurt them or get out of control like Biohazard

Alpha and Beta's YN would be a bit more sympathetic about Biohazard's emotions, but they would still be confused about how the robot could become so aggressive, or why the rest decided to keep him locked up instead of actually trying to do something to help him. Biohazard's YN, however, canonically takes longer to understand that robots feel and that Biohazard is going through things that torment him and make him act the way he does, and would then lump Alpha and Beta in the same bag. This, depending on at what point in the story they met

This Beta x YN fic is set roughly between the second arc of Gamma Code, where YN already has a clearer notion and their relationship with Biohazard improved a bit, so it also allows them to trust Beta more easily. This is one of the reasons why I haven't posted the fic yet. It has too many spoilers even though it's not canon, so I thought it was better if you read chapter 2 first to introduce a dynamic that is briefly touched upon in the spin-off

I also think it's important to mention that there is already a character like YN for Alpha and Beta, with a similar role, but it's not YN

[hanako-kozume]

Cursed Luck - TGCF FANART

I'm working on a by now 35k+ word fanfic for TGCF on Ao3 and made fanarts for it here and there bit by bit. This is all the art I made so far:

Disclaimer: These are all very quickly done sketches not finished paintings or fully rendered. They are just meant to visualise some characters and concepts.

Background: The fanfic is a pre-third Ascension story of Xié Lián accidentally ending up in Ghost City a few years after his Banyue arc and ends up working at the gambler's den. He is however masked and due to a mixture of self-loathing on Huá Chéng's side, Xié Lián's astonishing luck, and pure stubbornness of the ghost King, Huá Chéng does not recognise him and manages to dig his grave deeper with each of their interactions.

In summary, it's identity porn and Xié Lián better be fast when Huá Chéng uncovers his real identity before the ghost can crush his ashes out of shame and guilt.

-

This was the first Sketch I made (about a year old) and is based on the concepts of hosts at the gambler's den.

In essence, I expanded the world building for this fanfic and separated the workers at the den in three categories: Guards, Hosts, and Maids.

(Details in the fic)

Xié Lián was sorted in the role of host most of the time due to his stunning beauty.

-

Tao is a wrath level ghost who gambled years of his existence away at the den and is now serving there as a host. He introduces Xié Lián to everything and over time they become friends.

His attitude is rather childish and youthful despite being over a century old. He has fun luring in patrons and taking them for all their worth at the gambling tables.

This was my third sketch for the story and is also already over half a year old.

-

Zhèn Yuè was the most recent addition to the casts of OCs in the story. She is a vengeful ghost who poses several mysteries at this point in the story. Established is only that she won her first gamble against Huá Chéng for resources to enact her revenge on those who killed her but then came back and asked to be dispersed. Huá Chéng made her gamble for it and she lost.

Now she is the head of his security at Ghost City's core establishments.

She and the disguised Xié Lián spar often together, which XL is always very excited about since she has a very unique fighting style.

(I want to add a bonus fic in the future about her backstory and first encounter with Huá Chéng.)

The sketch is one of the most recent ones.

-

Subsequently these are old sketches of Xié Lián sparring in his host outfit. I made these together with the sketches for Tao but didn't end up using them until the last chapter I posted 2 days ago.

-

This shows the specific scene of Xié Lián's and Zhèn Yuè's first spar. Xié Lián having once been the strongest martial god defeats her ofc but during their spar he notices something very rare: she uses a fighting style he has never encountered before.

Being the — honestly — nerd he is when it comes to all things marital arts he gets really excited and asks to be taught the technique, forgetting the circumstances and that he was still pointing a sword at her.

He was denied. Making him very sad 😔

The most recent sketch.

-

Lastly this is a sneak peak for the next chapter and will be part of the reveal. So I won't add too much here. One of the more recent sketches along with Zhèn Yuè's.

As I said these are all sketches. I just wanted to share my love for this fandom and ship! I'm so excited to get to writing the next chapter once I find the time!!!

Any feedback would be appreciated 🥰

I like to think that I improved over time.

Oh also here is the fic in case any of you are interested: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54425590

[cotton-fae24]

Remember when I said that I would post chapter 4 on Saturday, well I lied… In all seriousness chapter 4 will out for real on Sunday, I just want to space these out more. For now, enjoy these bio pics of the characters introduced so far. And in case you can’t read my terrible handwriting, I wrote their bios in the description:

Luz Noceda:

Luz Noceda was once a human child living in poverty with her mother and brother. They had so little money that losing their home was a real likely possibility. Thus, against her mother’s wishes, she makes a deal with the mysterious Captain Belos. She promises that if she helps Belos find this mysterious treasure located in the Boiling Bay, he’d pay of her families debt. But Belos betrays Luz and leaves her to die at the Boiling Bay. However, be it a blessing or curse, Luz is transformed into a mermaid and brought back to life. She is found by Princess Edalyn, who takes the girl in. Luz in this au is basically the same as she is in the actual show. An impulsive, but well meaning oddball who brings out the best in others. Seabird Luz is mute due to an injury she sustained through Belos, and Luz has been teaching herself how to write to better communicate. Seabird Luz is also a lot more skittish and shy compared to og Luz. (Remember Seabird Luz has lived her whole life in a tiny village, and never was able to have an education, so she’s knows nothing outside of her little village). So everything from a jellyfish to a mermaid can overwhelm this Luz.

Stringbean:

Stringbean is a shapeshifting sea serpent with the ability to change from large to small. Luz and Stringbean met…not the greatest of circumstances. Belos knew that Stringbean was living in the Titan skull and believed that she was an evil monster. He planned to use Luz as bait in order to sneak past and get to the treasure. However Luz and Stringbean actually befriended one another and Beanie stayed by Luz’s side ever since. Stringbean is a little skittish around other people so she tends to hide in Luz’s hair when there are people nearby. Stringbean is the only one who knows Luz is a human and Luz tends to confide in Stringbean the most.

Princess Edalyn Codthrone:

Despite being a princess, Eda certainly doesn’t act like one. She’s mischievous, chaotic, surprisingly foxy for her age, and has a thirst for adventure. The only reason why Eda lives in the palace with her sister is because she wanted her son, King to stay in one place. Though Eda refuses to participate in any stupid royal duties, much to Lilith frustration. But why should Eda participate in a life she never chose? It’s not like she has any real power. Seabird Eda is a bit more mature compared to show Eda, and does take being Luz’s and King’s guardian a bit more seriously.

King Codthrone:

On one of Edas many adventures, she came across a strange looking cave. Inside, she found a strange baby animal. Thinking it was some kind of lost sea pup, she took him home with her. Once she discovered that King was a sentient creature however, she decided to raise him as her son. Unlike his mother, who can’t stand being royalty, King is obsessed with the idea that his family is royalty. He frequently plays games where he is an all powerful conquerer. Eda lets him play in his fantasy, but keeps him away from any actual royal duties. She does not want Kings childhood to be like hers, dominated by royal duties and public images. He was a little wary of Luz at first, but quickly befriend her and the two love playing with one another.

Queen Lilith Codthrone:

The Queen of the Boiling Isles! But doesn’t actually have any real power. The Boiling Bay is actually a constitutional monarchy (constitutional monarchy’s, surprisingly rare in fiction.) so Lilith is just a glorified mascot. However she puts on an act of all powerful queen and holds royal traditions very seriously. She has a very difficult relationship with her sister Edalyn, and is frustrated that she never participates in any real royal duties. She does NOT like Luz in the slightest, and the only reason why she keeps Luz around is because she provides useful information about humans. Lilith would never admit this, but truthful she doesn’t enjoy being a queen at all, but feels obligated to perform this role cause it’s all she’s ever known.

Hooty:

Lilith most faithful servant. A worm sea monster, most people find him annoying…and kinda creepy actually…

[tobernaut]

Did you like the first chapter? I'm pretty intrigued so far, though I have to say Ratau's personality was quite surprising considering how he is in the game. I have a feeling that maybe he will be the one to betray the Lamb considering that change. I can't wait for the next chapter!

Spoilers for COTL comic chapter one below! I will be tagging "cotl comic spoilers" from now on. Please block this tag if you don't want to be spoiled!

Spoilers include plot/character talk and a singular image.

Did I like the first chapter???? Did I LIKE THE FIRST CHAPTER??? I've been going through it with a fine toothed comb and loving EVERY MINUTE OF IT!!!

Ahem.

So, I love this characterization of Ratau.

In the game we already saw hints that he maybe had a little bit of trouble letting go of the red crown. The fact he wears one made of paper is weird enough, but the fact he has the same paper crowns filling his house and on his shrine hints at this imo. I know game cannon ≠ comic cannon, but I had the idea Ratau may hold a little jealousy even before the comic because of this, so I was really excited to see the idea play out.

But if you look at it from his point of view, it kind of makes sense.

At least in the comic so far, it seems that Ratau is incredibly devoted to TOWW. He's offended that The Lamb is taking Narinder's mission so lightly, that they are seemingly attempting to ignore his orders in order to go on their own revenge quest.

This makes sense, because as a past vessel, Ratau is bound to know well the honor that that sort of job brings. Seemingly, he would be eager to take The Lamb's place, but knows he can not. He's managing someone doing his dream job, and they're just there for the paycheck. It's got to be infuriating!

Especially since he's seemingly older and wiser than the lamb (Though I don't think his or TOWW's use of the word "child" is literal. I think it's more in the same way The Mystic Seller calls The Lamb an infant god.) I can definitely see his frustration. I think that The Lamb is going to kind of "sober up" after Leshy's defeat and finally gain sight of the mission.

Speaking of The Lamb, I really like how they were characterized! A lot of us, including myself, were pretty sceptical of turning a silent protagonist into a fully fledged character, but in my opinion all is looking really very well so far!

I especially the love the sort of cognitive dissonance they have in the beginning. It sets them up to be this wimpy pushover. I know a lot of people may find it hard to believe that someone in those circumstances would be so calm, but as someone who's had a number of near death experiences I thought it was pretty realistic! A sort of humorous disassociation sprinkled with a confusing mix of denial and acceptance. (Though, please note it's been a few years since the last time I've nearly died. My data is a bit outdated.)

Regardless, I like how they are now. It makes a lot of sense, after all, to be a bit peeved at the circumstances. Their dialogue is super witty, though really sad if you think about it, and I have a feeling that when they stop focusing on revenge they're going to crash and feel a lot of things they've suppressed since their death.

But all in all I'm super excited to see where this little lamb goes!

Finally, can we get some Nana appreciation?? Sure she had a small role, but for a first non-game character, she made a really good first impression!

She seems fleshed out with her own little past, backstory, and personality. The traumatized sceptic in me is a bit worried she'll end up as a love interest, but I doubt it. If it does happen, I doubt it'll be in a typical way. This is a game where you're encouraged to marry with multiple people, after all. I don't think that's the case, though. I think I'm just used to old 80's comics where the first female introduced was the main love interest and nothing more 99.999% of the time.

Whatever is done with her, I'm eager for it. So far the writing seems really really good and she made a great first impression as a follower. She makes me EXCITED to see future follower interactions. If they're all written like her, then it's going to be a super enjoyable part of the comic. We love Nana here.

Finally I have some other random thoughts and things I noticed but can't really format in a way that works, so here's a bullet point list.

Apparently wool is very valuable. Now it's not said weather this is because of the lambs becoming less and less or if it was always valuable. Either way, it's and interesting little fact. I wonder if it'll be important later or if it's just trivia. I like to think things like that aren't added for no reason.

I like that they used the real term, 'Endling,' to describe the last of a soon to be extinct species. This knowledge, though, and the discussion with the cultist, implies this has happened many times before with other species. I wonder if they were always driven to extinction through genocide, or if natural factors ever play a role.

The Lamb was sold out for 30 gold coins. This is apparently a lot. It costs almost that much (converting coins to Dollars. Not perfect, I know.) to buy the ingredients for a peanut butter and jelly sandwich where I live in the US. Either there's not much inflation, or The Lamb was sold out for some PB and J.

I believe the thirty gold coins is a reference to the 30 silver coins Judas was given in exchange for selling out Jesus in Christian lore. If so, I like that detail! Very neat.

It's implied that the bishops are making life hell for EVERYONE while they drive off the lambs. This is interesting, and also a reflection of real life. Bonus points.

Does The Lamb really count as a non believer if they clearly believe in the bishops existence?? I mean they see them right there with no surprise.

Kallamar is shiny. Knew it. He also has tentacles.

It could just be the perspective, but Leshy seems taller than the other bishops.

BAAL AND AYM!

Let's all appreciate how well TOWW's chains and restraints were drawn. All those different perspectives must have been hell but it looks so good.

Chubby cheeks Narinder :)

Sharp teeth lamb! Possibly due to the crown??

So no head??

You. Me.

So no head?? x2

The lamb has guilt and second thoughts about the killing they must do to achieve their goals. Nice.

Cultist roles have hierarchy to them. Neat.

The Lamb's eyes water upon seeing light for the first time in who knows how long...sob.

Again, beautiful art.

There's lots of focus on The Lamb's fangs. Are they important or just stylistic, I wonder??

The crown seemingly has a mind of its own or is watching.

It's implied The Lamb has some sort of death powers already

So no head?? x3

CLAUNECK. MY BE FUCKING LOVED.

Needless to say I have so many THOUGHTS and can't wait for the next chapter. Happy reading, you guys!

[waywardstation]

hi! i havent been on tumblr in a Hot minute but i wanted to come here JUST to tell you that hfbe might be my fave pla fic ive read ao far! the worldbuilding and the characterization of everyone just feels so so right i fall in love

i reread it on ao3 and even tho its not completed its still a joy to reread everytime

Hello hello!! Anon you have no idea how much it meant to me to get to read this. Knowing I put something out there that you wanted to back to and reread means A LOT.

I’m glad you like it so much but man I have been editing the first two chapters (fixing errors, making characters say and do things that are more in line with how I write them now, and just adding scenes in between to help things seem more clear or hit harder), and I’m like man this really isn’t that good haha.

It’s fun to see how much I think I’ve improved since I’ve started trying to write fanfics (I wasn’t aware of how obsessed I had been with commas and run-on sentences at the start lol)

So reading this nice message really gives me such a boost of motivation. I’m so glad you like the worldbuilding, and it makes me excited to get more out because later chapters are when I really introduce specifics on a lot of things. Namely the Pearl Clan’s hunting parties, that has been my favorite.

Now I just gotta get more out! Hoping to put more out for you to read soon kind anon, I really appreciate that you find it’s something you like to reread!

For now, here is a snippet below the cut; I am unsure if I have shared this before, but it’s a scene where Ingo is preparing to advocate for the Clan to use pokeballs to store their pokemon in, so that there is less food consumption (as in HFBE, it’s emphasized that pokeballs put pokemon into a stasis where they don’t need to eat, drink, sleep, etc. for as long as they’re in them. Ingo does it with his pokemon, and he wants the clan to do it too, for their own sakes).

Wording is subject to change (VERY MUCH SO), but enjoy!

—————

“Excuse me Miss Irida, but may we talk for a moment?”

The Pearl Clan leader turned back to see Ingo – he was trailing behind the group, purposefully so. He had been waiting for the right moment to approach her.

“Right now?” Irida’s eyes flickered back over the tops of people’s heads, up towards the communal hall at the top of the hill. “I’m sorry, but can it wait until after the meeting?”

“It is actually about the meeting.” Ingo’s grey eyes were unwavering, waiting — he wanted to ask her something. And Ingo was not one to usually ask for things.

“Ok,” She relented, pausing in the snow both so he could catch up, and they could have their conversation with some privacy. “You have until we reach the hall.”

“Thank you, I assure you it will be quick.” Ingo fell into step beside her, shuffling through the snow as they now both trailed behind the group heading towards the warm hall. He kept his head tilted down just like her, using the brim of his hat to protect against the wind and snowfall. “I, well… I am planning to re-propose a proposition at this meeting tonight. I’d like to make another attempt at advocating for the use of pokeballs.”

“Tonight? Are you serious?” Irida lowered her voice for his sake, looking back between him and the group. How could he possibly think about proposing that when this meeting was for them to discuss how to prepare for this famine? “I’m saying this not as your leader but as your friend, Ingo; now is absolutely not a good time for that. Everyone is already going into this meeting angry. And if you try and start this again, they’re going to-”

Irida took a deep breath; she was already getting stressed over it.

“You know how people are going to react to that. You know who it’s going to upset, Ingo. Especially after last time. And you said you’d let it go.”

“I am well aware of what I said and I intended to stick to it, but these circumstances have changed our tracks, and I believe this may save us from derailing!” Ingo whispered back. He kept throwing quick glances at the nearing hall, gauging how much time he had left to persuade her. “Pokeballs can help us much more than the clan realizes – I’m confident that this can bring us closer to a solution, if not at least be a part of one!”

Irritation and confusion were replaced with genuine curiosity, but a fleck of doubt hesitantly followed after. Irida shook her head, not understanding. “How could they possibly help with all of this?”

“I will explain that in the meeting.” Having conquered the snowy hill, the two reached the warm light that spilled through the hall’s windows to project onto the snow. “But to do that, I need to actually present my proposal, and I’m afraid that will be difficult with the elders tonight. I am trying this for the fourth time now, and I’m aware of how this will most likely be received. I expect they’ll call to send me back to my seat before I even start.”

Ingo paused just outside the doors, waiting for Irida to go in first — she could do so and end the conversation right now if she wanted to, but she didn’t. Instead she stood there, staring at their fading shoeprints in the snow.

Irida could see why he approached her about this now, and a part of her felt sorry for him. “So you want me to vouch for you.”

“Not the proposal itself. Just the time to talk.”

[hochsleep]

Chapter 2: First day in the quarry

• Era: Season 1

• Warning: foul language, disturbing thoughts.

• Summary: Daryl brings you to a camp in the quarry and now you have to get to know its inhabitants. Will you and your sister be allowed to stay? Have you finally found a safe place to stay?

• Word count: 6,9k.

• A/N: I will say right off the bat that there is almost no interaction between Daryl and Y/N in the chapter. But aside from the romantic relationship with Mr. Dixon, I also want to spell out the interactions between the reader and the other characters in the series. It's important, after all they're all in the same group and I don't consider all the other characters just set pieces. I love many of them immensely and I want to express my love here. But after these digressions, we'll usually be treated to chapters with a lot of Daryl. For balance.

The first chapter seems quite weak to me and if you made it here after that, you're good! I'm having trouble spelling out the beginning. I haven't really fumbled with the characters yet, especially my own, but the second chapter was easier for me to write and it feels really better. Glad you guys are here!

Yeah, that's pretty much all I wanted to say here for now.

Enjoy reading!

Your first day of your career was stressful to say the least.

You knew this place. One day your best friend got involved with a bunch of local amateur rockers who liked to hide from cops and law problems far away from your hometown. One day these assholes decided to perform at a bar in Atlanta, calling it their first big tour. Needless to say, they ended up not even being allowed in that bar? Their playing was pretty mediocre, they were more attracted to the image of rock stars and their lifestyle than the music. Their lead singer looked like Axl Rose and was a real asshole. Billy Stevenson. Famous for his husky voice, his problems with the local Dunwoody police, and his love of underage girls when he was in his early 20s. You couldn’t help it, your friend Holly was madly in love with this asshole and all your attempts to talk some sense into her were unsuccessful.

So when you and Holly were 16, you first tricked your mom and went on her boyfriend Billy Stevenson’s “tour” with her. You just didn’t want to let her go alone. Holly was naïve enough to get into trouble, and Billy had little interest in the safety of his underage girlfriend. So you volunteered to be her voice of reason on this trip. It wasn’t so bad. Except for a few days on the road in an old pot-smoking van with six sleazy guys who were failed rock stars. At least you finally got out of your little town and could see Atlanta. The big city you were hoping to go to after high school. And your best friend was with you and seemed really happy so you just ignored all the other aspects of the not-so-safe trip.

That group decided to stop at this very quarry for the night before finally reaching Atlanta. That’s how you first got here. It was only seven years ago, and it felt like an eternity. You never thought you’d be in this place again. You didn’t think Lottie would be with you. And you obviously couldn’t, even in your wildest fantasies, imagine under what circumstances you’d end up back in that old quarry. The end of the world. It’s still hard to believe.

But back to the camp that Daryl brought you to. It was hard to get a few words out of him on the way to the quarry, but at least after several attempts he introduced himself. He was probably just tired of your questioning or your annoying voice. He liked Lottie better because she kept quiet while you talked and talked all the way. Anyway, Daryl led you out of the forest and the first thing you came to was a small clearing where the trees had been cut down years ago.

The first thing that catches your eye is a few camping tents with folding chairs and ropes for drying laundry. A woman with two children was sitting near one of these tents, and she was the first to look at you. The woman frowned slightly and whispered to her young son in Spanish to go back into the tent. You wondered how bad you and Lottie looked now if the woman had that reaction. Three days in the woods must have taken its toll. You’d had to sleep on the ground as it was, with nothing to put underneath you. But you always gave your knitted cardigan to Lottie to wrap up in so she wouldn’t freeze at night lying on the cold ground. Even if you were shaking from the cold yourself because Georgia nights feel like they’re polar. Oh, and you fell at least four times while you and Lottie were walking through the woods. From fatigue, dizziness from lack of food, a couple times you tripped. Resulting in bloody knees, elbows and palms. So yes, probably a strange girl covered in mud, blood and her own sweat did not arouse confidence in the camp.

You swept your eyes further and saw an old mobile home, on the roof of which stood an elderly man in a Hawaiian shirt and with a shotgun in his hands. He seemed to be trying to see what was going on down here. Two girls came out of the house. Two blondes, similar in appearance but different in age. They’re probably sisters, or so you’d think.

“Dixon, what’s going on here?” came a man’s voice.

A tall man of strong build wearing a shirt unbuttoned across his chest, showing off dark short hair and a large silver pendant. He looked to be no more than thirty-five. The man had his hands at his sides and was squinting at Daryl. Oh, now you know his last name. Not that you needed the information, but it was still interesting to know.

“Found them in the woods,” Daryl said hoarsely, waving his hand in your and Lottie’s direction while you stood behind his back, “gotta help the kid.”

“Let’s step back and talk, buddy,” the man snorted, as if saying the last word with disdain.

You could see Daryl’s shoulders tense. He nodded to the man and they both walked back toward the forest to discuss the situation. You couldn’t blame him. Today, with the old world dead, and with it the law and perhaps ethical rules controlling human behavior, you shouldn’t have trusted strangers. Especially ones from the woods.

“Are we not allowed to be here?” asked Lottie quietly, wrapping her arm tightly around yours, "are we going to get kicked out?”

For a ten-year-old, she was pretty savvy. Though it didn’t take much intelligence to notice the wary behavior of the people in this camp. You stood there in the middle of the clearing while several pairs of eyes stared at you and your sister tried to hide behind you. You wished you could hide too. It seemed easier with Daryl standing in front of you and covering you.

You saw a boy, looking about the same age as Lottie, walk confidently in your direction. Behind him, a tall, thin woman with long brown hair and a piercing gaze walked at a quicker pace. His mom?

“Carl, stop!” huffed the woman, catching up with the child, but he cared little for her words.

“Hi, I’m Carl Grimes,” the boy with the bright blue eyes smiled sincerely and pulled Lottie’s hand, “what’s your name?”

Lottie looked at his hand and then at you. You smiled slightly and nodded at her, encouraging her. It had been so long since Lottie had seen the other children, it seemed like years rather than a couple of weeks.

“Charlotte L/N,” the girl replied, looking apprehensively at Carl.

“Pleased to meet you,” Carl ventured and put his own arm around her arm to seal the acquaintance.

Lottie opened her eyes fearfully, but relaxed just as quickly, realizing that a boy her age wouldn’t hurt her.

“Carl,” the woman walked over to you and the boy and shook her head annoyedly, looking at him, “you definitely heard what I told you.”

“It’s okay,” you found the courage to answer the woman, “we’re not dangerous. I mean…”

“What’s your name?” the woman shifted her gaze to you. So cold it sent shivers down your spine.

“Y/N,” you replied, looking at her uncertainly.

“Y/N, I think we should all stay away from each other for now until we figure this out,” the woman said, grabbing Carl’s arm and pulling him aside. “For safety’s sake…ours and yours.”

“Lori, you shouldn’t chop off your shoulder,” the older man finally came down from the roof and approached you with a broad smile. “The two young ladies are obviously scared and tired, hardly a danger to anyone.”

“We’ve had enough of the Dixons who came here from the woods too and now we don’t all feel safe,” Lori answered him in a low voice so Carl and the others wouldn’t hear too much extra.

“Lori,” the old man shook his head faintly, looking at the woman, “this conversation is inappropriate right now, don’t you think? Obviously the girls need help, that’s what really matters.”

“Let’s see what Shane has to say to that,” Lori said and with another glance in your direction, dragged Carl by the arm to the side.

The man sighed his head as he watched Lori walk away behind Carl’s arm and quietly clucked his tongue. But then the good-natured smile bloomed back on his face as he looked at you.

“You must be hungry, ladies. Come on, I’ll feed you and we’ll get to know each other without any barbed looks in your direction,” the old man clapped his hands, “and don’t mind Lori, she’s always in a bad mood lately, it’s nothing to do with you.”

At the mention of food, saliva automatically accumulated in your mouth. You could literally feel your stomach digesting itself all these three days. The last thing you ate was a handful of wild raspberries found in the woods. The only safe thing you knew. It was a shame there weren’t many berries, but you weren’t in a position to complain. You’ve never been a believer, but you seem to finally understand why people pray before eating and thank God for sending food. But it was more hunger playing on your emotions, nothing serious.

The elderly man introduced himself as Dale. He nobly hid you and Lottie in his motor home, where no one would look at you both with supposed apprehension. You were truly grateful for that. And you were even more grateful when Dale put a plate full of pasta and meat chowder warmed over a fire in front of you. You didn’t like meat other than chicken, but right now you’d eat anything that had animal protein in it. Lots of wild protein. And damn it, it was the best chowder you’ve ever had in your life. Or at least in the last month. It was warm, rich, salty and peppery, even though you’d forgotten spices existed, and it was really hearty. Even Lottie, who was a very picky eater and would certainly not have eaten such an array of food at any other time, was happily gorging herself on the food Dale had provided. The man watched you with a caring smile as he poured the wild herbs into cups. An impromptu tea you wouldn’t mind having now.

“So, girls, how did you get into these woods?” asked Dale, placing a plastic cup of decoction in front of you. The pleasant, soothing scent of herbs enveloped you, and it was easier to breathe.

“We’re from Dunwoody,” you said, smiling slightly at the old man, “just like everyone else traveling towards Atlanta when we heard there was a safe camp for the uninfected. When we got to the town, it turned out there was no camp," you explained without going into detail.

You didn’t tell him how your mother was eaten in front of you and Lottie. How your stepfather John piled into the house that same day and ordered you to immediately pack all the essentials. How you took a long drive from Dunwoody in his old Ford, and when it stalled, you stole someone’s pickup truck. How you spent several days in the woods, eating the canned food you had collected at home and what you found in abandoned cars on the road. You didn’t tell him how you had to run away from walkers several times and how John cracked one of them open in front of his ten-year-old daughter, after which she was afraid to go near him. How you finally made it to Atlanta, but instead of a camp you found only abandoned military equipment, fire-damaged buildings, and crowds of corpses. How you couldn’t get away from them and John drew them off so you and Lottie could escape. You didn’t tell how the man who raised you from the age of ten and replaced your own father was torn apart by reanimated corpses, spewing out his insides as he screamed exhaustedly before life left him. How loudly Lottie screamed “Daddy!” and sobbed, and you had to literally carry her on your back to escape the walkers. How you ran off into the woods again, where you finally broke away from the mob of rotten ones. You didn’t tell how Lottie had been silent for the last two days, not realizing that she had lost both her parents so quickly. How the two of you wandered through the forest and survived only on wild berries and rare streams of water. You could only hope the water wasn’t poisoned with walker DNA. You didn’t tell him how you were found by four of those horrible creatures and chased after you. How Lottie was grabbed and almost bit. And how you gave up and for a moment thought it was best for both of you, you didn’t tell him either. The memories were still fresh and the realization of your weakness had not yet reached you. And there was a lot you hadn’t told Dale.

But he probably knew from the sad look in your eyes that you didn’t need to ask. Not now. And in front of Lottie, who was trying hard not to think about what had happened.

“Are you going to kick us out?” finally dispelled the silence, Lottie looking at Dale with her innocent childish gaze in which hope flickered.

“Kick you out? What makes you think that, little lady?” the old man raised his eyebrows, looking at the girl.

He and probably Carl were the only ones who already saw you as part of the group. Maybe also Daryl, since he brought you here, but you weren’t sure.

“That woman, the boy’s mom…Carl’s mom, she doesn’t want us here…and neither does that big tall man,” Lottie pressed her lips together. A habit you both shared when nervous or doubtful.

“Well you may have scared them, we’re all scared right now, but that doesn’t mean they want to kick you out,” Dale shook his head, “we all came to this camp hoping to find a safe place and we found one. Everyone arrived gradually and we were all new here, but no one kicked anyone out. Daryl, the one who brought you here, and his brother Merle, who I suggest you stay away from, were the last newcomers to this group, they too came from the forest a couple weeks ago and people just…got used to new people in the camp. Time goes very fast now, two weeks feels like two months ago,” the old man sighed, “and yet. No one’s kicked anyone out of this camp yet. If you want a safe place and a nice, well almost, company of other living people, you’ve found it and are now part of the group until you decide to leave. That’s the way it Is.”

Lottie smiled at Dale’s words. She didn’t want to leave. New people scared her, but she couldn’t help but be glad to be alive. Especially after seeing nothing but dead people for the last couple weeks. And she liked that there were more kids at camp. Carl and those kids whose mom had hastily hidden them in the tent. Maybe they could be friends. And maybe you wouldn’t have to give your food and clothes to Lottie anymore. She’d like that. She also liked Dale. He was kind and caring. He reminded Lottie of your grandfather from Oregon, the one you both went to see the summer before school. This place really could be a new home and Lottie really hoped it would be.

“Thanks for the food, Dale, it’s really good,” you said smiling and occasionally glancing at your sister’s satisfied face.

“Yes, thank you!” nodded the girl confidently, remembering to thank the old man.

“It’s all Carol,” the man brushed it off, but then apparently remembered that you have no idea who Carol is, “I’ll be sure to introduce you to her and the others. But you’d better get cleaned up first.”

Oh, right.

You still looked no better than a walker. Still covered in blood, sweat, and mud. You used to feel awful after a long day of work on particularly hot days in Georgia, when you sweated all over and literally felt like the dirtiest person on the planet. All you wanted to do was go home and give yourself a good scrubbing with a washcloth. But a light layer of sweat was a drop in the bucket compared to how truly dirty you were now. Not to mention the fact that you’d forgotten about shampoo for two weeks at least, and now if you ran your greasy hair over a frying pan, you could fry an egg without oil and it wouldn’t even burn. It was only now that you didn’t have to run and survive in the woods, where walkers could find you at any moment, that you thought about how you looked. You felt like wiping yourself with an iron sponge like the one your mom used to scrub the burned-on food off the dishes. Or scrub yourself with sandpaper. And burn those clothes you’ve been wearing for so long. There’s no saving it, you’re sure of that. But the problem is, you and Lottie left your backpacks in Atlanta. You had literally nothing with you. Wearing those filthy, tattered rags after you’ve washed up…It's rather not wash up at all.

“I don’t have a change of clothes and…” you looked awkwardly at Dale, “all our stuff was left in Atlanta when we ran away from there.”

“Oh, right,” nodded the old man, “you came light,” he reflected.

There are enough people in the camp. And they should have enough clothes, too. But you weren’t even sure if you and Lottie were staying here. You didn’t know for sure until now. Asking for clean clothes from these people would have been supercilious and you didn’t want to deal with it.

“Stay here, I’ll be right back,” Dale said with a smile before leaving you and Lottie in his motorhome.

You didn’t even have time to object. He wouldn’t have let you.

“He’s cute,” Lottie grinned at you after a few seconds of silence, and you only grinned back at her.

Dale didn’t keep you waiting long as promised. He came back to the house accompanied by a young girl. One of those blondes you saw earlier. The younger one. The girl seemed your age. Maybe a couple years apart. She smiled charmingly and looked like a doll with her soft blond hair, blue eyes, and rosy cheeks. The girl held a stack of clothes in her hands.

Oh shit.

You wouldn’t want that. I mean, sure you wanted to wash up and put on clean clothes, but you didn’t want to feel indebted and steal from these people. You already felt like you owed Daryl for saving your life and Dale for the food and the warm welcome.

“Hi, we haven’t had a chance to meet yet,” the girl said in a voice as sweet as sugar syrup, “I’m Amy.”

“Y/N,” you nodded, lifting the corners of your lips slightly, “this is my sister Charlotte,” you nodded at the little girl next to you.

“That’s my full name, but I don’t like it when the full form is used, I’d rather just Lottie,” the girl explained.

“Nice to meet you,” Amy smiled even wider and for a moment you thought her rosy cheeks were going to burst, “I brought you both some clothes.”

Amy held out a stack of clothes to you and you took them into your hands. There were bigger clothes on the bottom, probably for you, and some smaller ones for Lottie on top.

“Thank you so much, I don’t know how I can repay you to be honest…” you pressed your lips together awkwardly, looking at Amy.

“Don’t need anything, it’s all right,” waved the girl away, “we’re here to help each other. It’s my stuff, I don’t know if it’ll fit, but if it doesn't we’ll look for something else. Maybe my sister has some or…well we have a lot of women in the camp,” she explained hastily, “and for Lottie, Sophia’s stuff. It’s Carol’s daughter and…”

“All right, honey, thanks,” Dale interrupted her, noticing that with excitement Amy was starting to gibber and explain too much.

“Yeah…anyway, if something doesn’t fit at all, we’ll look for more,” Amy nodded, exhaling.

“That’s fine, and thanks again,” you nodded at her.

“Thank you,” repeated Lottie after you.

“No problem, I’ll see you later,” Amy smiled once more and walked out the door.

“Okay, I have a shower room there a little farther closer to the bedroom. It’s not much of a dream, but it’s washable. The water is also scarce and it’s mostly cold, so I suggest you do all your business quickly because it’ll take a long time to rub down not lake water,” Dale began, walking past you further to show you everything, “Soap and shampoo are on the shelf next to the shower. And I’ll give you a towel. When you’re done, go outside. We’ll get to know the others.”

Dale gave you both a towel each and left you and Lottie alone in his motorhome, assuring you that no one would come in here and you could relax.

You sent Lott to wash first and hoped you’d have some water left over. But now you’d dive into the lake to wash yourself, frankly.

Lottie came out a few minutes later. Her long hair was wet and slightly disheveled from the water, but she looked fresh and clean for the first time in a long time. Lottie was dressed in knee-length blue leggings with a star pattern and a white T-shirt with a cartoon bear on it. Clothes were a little big for her because the Sophia you didn’t know yet was probably older than your sister. Or at least taller. But Lottie didn’t complain. Especially when she saw that she’d been allocated ballet flats with a strap around her ankle. Not very practical footwear now, but better than one miserable rubber boot. You hoped you wouldn’t have to run around anymore and Lottie’s shoes wouldn’t be something to worry about in that case. Especially as she seemed to like it very much herself. She loved shoes and ballet flats before all this. Fuck you could see sneakers on her feet, it was a rarity.

You walked into the tiny shower room, which somehow also contained a toilet and sink. The shower was disastrously small and you were left to guess how to turn around so as not to bruise yourself on the toilet and sink. You pulled off all your dirty clothes and shoved them with your foot closer to the door so they wouldn’t get in the way. Your gaze fell on your reflection in the small mirror above the sink. The crumpled, tired, and lost girl who had once smiled so brightly looked back at you. It was the worst version of you. And not even because of the blood and dirt on your face. Not because of the purple bruise on your collarbone and a few scratches on your neck. Not because of the greasy hair that clumped on your shoulders. It was because of that faded look in your eyes. The one you’d never seen in your life, not even in your worst moments. The funny thing was that now all those situations and your worries about them were nothing compared to your current problems.

You didn’t want to see it anymore. You stood under the shower head and turned on the water. Cold jets ran through your hair, dripping onto your skin and causing a tabor of goosebumps to follow. But damn it now, that cold water felt like the embrace of a god you didn’t believe in, but now you were ready to believe in. You could only dream of a hot shower now, but the temperature of the water no longer mattered as long as the dirt and blood was washed away with the streams of water and left under your feet. You turned off the water to lather your hair with a man’s shampoo for lack of more. It smelled divine anyway. Everything smelled divine now after the smell of sweat, blood, and rotting corpses in your nose. The only thing your nose has been picking up lately. So the smell of pine branches and mint almost made you have an orgasm. Especially when you felt the foam between your fingers, lathering up your dirty hair. The next step was the mendal smelling soap you used to lather your body with. The sharp pain recognized your scratches on your sides and legs, but that was a good thing as they were getting clean. You had nothing to treat them with back then in the forest and could only hope you didn’t get an Infection or die of blood poisoning. That would be ridiculous and a shame in today’s world. As your slippery soapy fingers slid over your body you felt as if angels had come down from heaven to bathe you. It was very good. Very good. And it felt even better to wash the soap off yourself along with the rest of the dirt and blood. There was barely enough water, you used the rest and hoped no one else would shower today. At least you justified to yourself that you really needed it more.

You wiped yourself with a clean towel and exhaled with relief. Now you could get dressed. You made a mental note to thank Amy again, because she had been kind enough to share even fresh underwear with you. Today couldn’t have gotten any better after that. Even if the cute polka-dot cotton briefs were a little small for you. You didn’t even want to think about the condition of your own after a week of wearing them. It’s horrible, you should just burn them. Amy also brought you a bra, which was also incredibly cute, but you hadn’t used that part of your clothes since you were a teenager after your cousin Martha scared you with the story about bra pips causing cancer and terrible breast pain. You remembered that to this day. But even without those stories, you were uncomfortable in bras, and they pressed and chafed your skin every now and then. You gave them up a long time ago. There were the occasional snide comments from male customers at the store where you worked and the stares of middle-aged women, but your comfort was more important to you. So you put your bra aside and began to dress next. Next were light-colored jeans that were supposed to be loose, but looked like skinnies on you because you were fuller and taller than Amy. But the main thing was that they weren’t close to bursting at the seams if you sat down in them and that was enough. You even liked the way they fit around your soft, rounded hips. The last one was a soft pink short-sleeve button-down shirt. It fit you well without being too tight, unlike the jeans. Anyway, you threw on a thin gray sweater with cute buttons and bows embroidered on them. It was a far cry from your lazy, near boho style, but you didn’t complain. Amy had also brought you some sneakers, but you preferred your shabby yellow converse shoes, which were still alive. And you hoped to save your colorful knitted cardigan that your mother had carefully knitted for you for Christmas two years ago. It’s the only thing you have left of hers. The cardigan and Lottie.

You came out of the shower room and sat across from Lottie at the table. She looked at you anxiously. You knew what was wrong. She was scared. And so were you.

“We can escape through the roof hatch,” you whispered to your sister as if someone could hear you.

“No, we won’t do that,” Lottie shook her head and stood up from the table to say confidently, “let’s go.”

You and Charlotte walked out of Dale’s motorhome just as a young Asian-looking guy you didn't know was about to knock on the door.

“Oh, I…” he looked at you fearfully, “I thought Dale was in there.”

"He’s not there,” you shook your head.

“Yeah, I already figured that out,” the guy scratched the back of his head awkwardly, “I’m Glenn by the way,” and then extended his hand to you.

“Y/N,” you replied, squeezing his hand lightly.

“And you…?” Glenn looked at the girl next to you.

“Lottie,” she smiled. Glenn was about to reply when Dale appeared behind him.

"Oh, you girls are done now,” the old man clapped his hands, “have you met Glenn yet? He’s a good guy,” Dale clapped the younger guy on the shoulder in a friendly way.

"Come on,” Glenn lowered his head in embarrassment and you noted to yourself that he seemed really quite shy.

"Well, we need to find Shane and introduce you to the others, follow me,” Dale waved his hand, urging the three of you to follow him.

There’s nothing more for you to do. You took Lottie’s hand and followed the man. Glenn walked beside you, awkwardly tucking his hands into the pockets of his jeans. The whole situation was embarrassing for you, too. Eventually you talked Daryl into bringing you to camp. You had hoped to just ask for food and lodging for one night, not expecting anything more. But now it’s people have lent you clothes and seem to actually let you stay here and live with them. This is something you could never have dreamed of. Unprecedented generosity.

“Shane we have an unspoken leader,” Glenn said as you walked, “well I mean we’re kind of his group, but there are other people in the camp who just knew about this place and stopped here on their own. Shane decided to organize all of us and he seems to know better than the rest of us how to handle difficult situations, so we just figured he could…I don’t know, be in charge? I mean, he’s really being listened to.”

“So he decides who can stay here?” you asked.

"We all decide together, Shane just makes the final determinations in matters like this, but since the camp is large and not everyone is, shall we say, part of our group, you could take a spot a little farther away and live on your own,” Glenn shrugged, “but that’s not necessary, no one minds if you’re actually with us.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” you almost whispered, remembering the look in Lori’s eyes.

Dale led you to a campfire where people were beginning to gather. The sky was darkens rapidly and the air, warmed by the day, was cooling surprisingly quickly. Everyone wanted to take a seat close to the warm, cozy fire. You felt a thrill of excitement at how many eyes were directed at you at that moment. Lori and Carl, who you already knew. But now there was no coldness and distrust in the woman’s gaze that she had greeted you with earlier. And Carl was smiling, waving his hand to Lottie as if they were already friends. Next you saw Amy next to an other woman, her sister. The younger sister smiled at you, and the older one nodded her head in greeting. Next to them sat a middle-aged woman, unfamiliar to you until now, with short gray hair. She had her arm around the shoulders of a blonde girl who looked a little older than your sister. You suggested that perhaps she was the same Sophia who had lent her things to Lottie. Sitting next to them was a full man who looked at you in disgust. Actually, it wasn't just you, he looked like that at everyone if you watched him. He was definitely not someone you wanted to meet. The next person you saw was a chubby dark-haired guy who was holding a guitar and seemed to be playing something, but stopped when he saw you and Lottie. Next to him sat an older dark-skinned woman who smiled politely at you. And finally Shane. The same man who dragged Daryl into the woods to ‘chat’ when he brought you here. You recognized him from the confident pose he stood in, towering over these people.

Speaking of Daryl. You didn’t see him among these people. But when you looked to the side, you saw a familiar figure with a crossbow over his shoulder. Daryl was walking away, obviously not even thinking about joining the group around the fire. You watched as he separated and didn’t look in your direction, though you were obviously staring. But you were standing far enough away that he really didn’t notice your stare.

“Y/N, right?” you hear a male voice say and turn around to Shane.

“Yes,” you nodded, pursing your lips. “And little…?” Shane shifted his gaze to your sister and smiled at her.

“Charlotte,” the girl replied, squeezing your hand tighter.

“Y/N and Charlotte, I remembered,” the man grinned and nodded, “well, my name is Shane. I know we didn’t start this acquaintance on the most pleasant note, but I think we should all try again.”

“Does that mean we can stay here?” asked Lottie quietly, looking uncertainly at the big man.

“Sure,” he nodded his head, “yes, you can stay.”

Okay, maybe it was easier than you thought.

With a relieved exhale you were finally able to allow yourself to relax at least a little. Dale sat you both closer to the fire between him and Glenn, and you began to get to know the people around you. The blonde next to Amy was Andrea and you weren’t wrong to think they were sisters. T-Dog and Jacqui were introduced next. Lottie thought the guy’s name was funny. Carol then gave you a friendly smile and introduced her daughter Sophia. You guessed it here too. Oh, and her husband Ed, who wasn’t even paying attention to what was going on. Dale nodded toward where two adults and several children were sitting around a smaller fire. The old man introduced them as the Martinez family, and you recognized the woman as the one who had rushed to hide her children from you in the tent a couple of hours ago. She seemed friendlier now. Like everyone in this place. Oh, a little later a middle-aged man joined you and called himself Jim. He wasn’t too talkative, but he seemed to get along well with Dale, because pretty soon the two of them were discussing the old man’s motorhome and how to fix the insides of that old car.

The atmosphere became even more pleasant after everyone had eaten. You and Lottie refused to eat because Dale had already fed you a while ago. You were full, but the main reason was your shyness and unwillingness to eat all of these people's food. They had already given you too much in one day. After a while Carl dragged Sofia and Lottie away to play near the fire. The children were tired of listening to the boring adult conversations and no one dared blame them. You watched with a soft smile as your little sister was a little embarrassed but still interacting with the other children. She missed it. And you missed seeing her happy for so long.

“Hi,” you felt someone sit down on the log next to you. Lori.

“Hi,” you turned in her direction and only now noticed that most of the group had started to disperse to their tents.

"Listen, I wanted to apologize for the way I acted this afternoon,” the woman clasped her hands together, looking in front of her, “the day was difficult and…”

"It’s okay, I understand,” you nodded, “times are like this, it’s dangerous to trust strangers from the woods so easily. I mean it’s always been unsafe, but things have definitely escalated now.”

“That’s for sure,” Lori grinned and nodded, “but I’m still sorry, Y/N.”

“Forget it, I’m not offended, really,” you smiled at her.

“Okay,” nodded Lori in response.

Lori was silent for a few moments before she spoke again.

“It’s good you’re here, I can’t imagine how hard it is to survive out there in the woods alone,” she sighed.

“Yeah, it wasn’t easy…” you nodded, “but Daryl saved us and I talked him into bringing us here for real.”

“It’s worth being careful with the Dixons,” Lori said, “Daryl and his brother Merle…they’re not easy to get along with.”

Merle? You’re hearing again that it’s best not to go near him. You didn’t know him, but you chose to trust everyone’s prejudices. Lori’s the second person to tell you to stay away from another Dixon. But if he resembled Daryl even a little bit, you could tell that he would indeed be difficult to get along with. But that’s if you wanted to, because so far, you haven’t.

“You don’t seem to like them both,” you said, throwing the twig into the fire without looking at Lori.

“With their arrival many no longer feel safe really,” the woman exhaled and looked at you, “Daryl at least hunts and contributes to this group, but his brother…don’t be alone with him, stay close to the others.”

“Okay, you’re scaring me a little,” you grinned a little wrongly.

“Sorry, just trying to give you a heads up that’s all,” Lori only shrugged.

"Okay, I’ll…keep in mind what you said,” you nodded. “That would be nice,” a soft smile appeared on her face. And you smiled back.

You sat silent in a cozy silence and looked at the fire. All around you could hear children’s laughter, the conversations of people you’d barely gotten to know, the tracks of a campfire and the murmuring of crickets in the grass. And at that very moment it seemed to you that life hadn’t changed at all. The dead don’t walk the earth and don’t eat the living. You hadn’t lost your parents and friends. And the thought of letting the walkers eat you and your little sister out of your own powerlessness hadn’t bothered you for the last week. It’s like everything’s back to normal.

Like you were living again.

Glenn was kind enough to give you and Lottie his tent. He promised he’d find you two your own when he went out on the highway again, but for now he’d moved into Dale’s motorhome.

You and Lottie wrapped yourselves in sleeping bags, which didn’t really keep you very warm on this cold Georgia night, but it was a lot better than sleeping on the grass in the woods with bugs getting into your hair and you could barely sleep, torturing yourself with the thought that walkers would appear at any moment. You finally felt safe. In that old camping tent in your sleeping bag, cradling your little sister in your arms to make you both feel warmer.

“I like it here,” whispered Lottie.

“We’re lucky to have come across such good people,” you said.

“I thought there were no survivors left, it’s been so long since we’ve seen them.”

“I’m sure this group is far from the only survivors.”

“I wish daddy had gotten to this place with us,” said Lottie faintly, pressing her thin lips together.

“I know, honey,” you closed your eyes, feeling the burning in them, “I wish he was here too.”

“Do you think he’s looking out for us? Grandmother always said the dead watch over us from the sky,” the girl asked with hope in her voice.

And who are you to dash her hopes? Even if you didn’t really believe in it. The dead walk the earth, not watch over the living from above. That’s the way it is. But Lottie doesn’t need to think about that.

“I hope he is,” you whispered, “he’s certainly happy for us. We survived and found a safe place with good people.”

“Yes, he’s happy for us,” agreed Lottie, “him and mommy.”

Lottie was silent for a while and you thought she had fallen asleep. You could still hear the crickets outside the tent.

“I don’t want you to go, Y/N,” Lottie said quietly.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you replied with complete confidence.

“I don’t want you looking out for me from upstairs,” the girl said barely audibly.

You frowned. If only Charlotte knew what you’ve been thinking about lately. If only she could pay attention to how you almost gave up back then in the woods when the walkers caught you. What would she think? Would she trust you like she did before? You were scared. Scared that she’d find out. Scared that in a stressful situation you’d give up again and there wouldn’t be Daryl or someone else around to save Lottie instead of you. Scared that she might actually die. Scared that you might die, too. You didn’t really want that. You just didn’t know how else to handle the situation. You just let your weakness get the best of you and it almost killed you and your sister. And you didn’t want that to happen again.

“That won’t happen, I promise,” you whispered, “you and I will be together until the end, and I definitely won’t die before you."

"I love you, Y/N,” Lottie said a little louder.

“I love you too, sweetie,” you kissed the top of her head, “now go to sleep,” and pulled her tighter against you.

Toward morning, the sound of crickets and Lottie’s soft sniffling put you to sleep. And that sleep was so sweet.

[first-of-her-nxme]

First I like the theory of jaqen=aegon even many people won´t believe it . second I have couples of questions for you :

.How can we believe that jaqen face is true (the one arya saw half white half red) because many people assuming that is not true .?

.why jaqen is working alone to get his dragon , without the help of varys or anyone , he doesn´t have fellowship like danny ?

and last, I think danny and brienne have seen a similar vision about a man and a girl stand alone in a fallen city does this indicates something ? and i´m so sorry about my questions hhhh.

thank you

Thank you :) I just wanted to say again that I wasn't the person who guessed that Jaqen was Aegon. Many people before me realized that. You can find some old discussions on westeros.org and other message boards. I don't want to take all the credit for it. However, everything I write here about Jaqen's journey is my explanation. People have all sorts of ideas of what happened. I often disagree with them so what you see here is mine.

But to the point.

You probably noticed that A Song of Ice and Fire is written a bit like a crime story. The series begins with a mysterious death of Jon Arryn and then Ned Stark starts his investigation. Then, the "detective" himself is murdered and the chain of deaths continues. Ned's death was the result of the unfair trial but following victims died under even stranger circumstances. You remember Joffrey and Tywin, to name but a few. We also get the prophecy of the Valonqar who is supposed to ruin Cersei's life. Some people accuse Tyrion but then we get Mercy chapter where the true killer is revealed: he is hiding in Tyrion's shade and his name is the Stranger. Interestingly enough, we have already met the Stranger who first introduced himself as Jaqen H'ghar, who is a professional killer and a very important person in Arya's life. So this is a crime story where the characters and the readers are supposed to find the real killer. In crime stories, authors always introduce the killer very early but they usually present him as a person not involved in the main plot so out of suspicion. And so it happens that GRRM also introduced Jaqen and his work quite early. And we tend to believe that he is a random criminal locked in the black cells. We see his true face like in the classic detective book and then GRRM starts messing with us and gives Jaqen a new face and then another. So this is the first reason why this face is real: it's how things work in crime stories.

Another factor is GRRM's description of Targaryens on his Not a Blog. Back in the days when the comments were still allowed, GRRM used to respond to his readers. He talked about the Targaryens's fine chiseled aristocratic features and then he described Jaqen in almost the same words in the books "slender, fine-featured...the handsome one". In addition to his beautiful face, Jaqen has white Valyrian hair. GRRM makes him tall and slender too. Jaqen is supposed to be a criminal and yet he has the manners of the aristocrat. He is clever and educated, he speaks High Valyrian. If he is a Targaryen, he doesn't need another face - he already looks like a Targ.

Then we see the resemblance to the weirwood tree. Arya observes that Jaqen seems like a tree where he is standing next to the weirwood. His hair is the color of weirwood: Valyrian white and blood red like the song of ice and fire. And like you mentioned, the image of the weirwood that looks like a young man with a girl by his side appears later in the books, in Brienne POV. There is too much of importance to this face to dismiss it as fake.

There is also a notable reference to Jaqen and Bloodraven in the prologue to A Clash of Kings when the maesters at Dragonstone receive the raven. The raven that arrives is white as snow and larger than any hawk, with the bright black eyes that meant it was no mere albino, but a truebred white raven of the Citadel. The "mere albino" is Bloodraven. Jaqen also has white hair but is a true born Targaryen and the rightful king and more powerful than Brynden. Perhaps Jaqen has black eyes like Elia. Jaqen is also a student at the Citadel later in the books so he is "the reaven of the Citadel". When the raven starts to talk he is very polite, he bows his head and calls Shireen "Lady" which mirrors Jaqen's courtesy towards Arya in Harrenhal where he calls her "My Lady of Stark". It is so symbolic that GRRM is using a raven to make a reference to Jaqen because of what we later learn about Bloodraven and the magic of weirwoods. And here in the prologue we learn that he is more powerful than Brynden, the last greenseer.

A reader needs to work a little to understand Jaqen's role in the books but this is GRRM's intention. It's supposed to be a big mystery. Like he has always been saying, he laid out breadcrumbs for us to pick up and get the true meaning behind the story.

Next part of your question: the fellowship of Jaqen or the lack of it. When we talk about Varys I think that he might be helping Jaqen. We should remember that it is Illyrio who has the gold to buy the army and it was Illyrio who took Jaqen in after Rhaegar had lost the war. I think that Illyrio decided to get rid of J/Aegon after Serra gave birth to a boy who looked like a Targaryen prince. Illyrio in the books is a carbon copy of Aegon IV so he must be one of the King's successors. He is not a legitimate Targaryen and so he can't push his claim but he got his hands on Rhaegar's son and then he got a boy who looked a lot like Aegon. So, he swapped the boys and decided to raise Young Griff like Rhaegar wished his son to be raised and make him the king. I think that he told Varys to get rid of Aegon, to kill him or sell into slavery but Varys took the boy to Braavos and left him with the Faceless Men. Please, remember that Illyrio stole all the things that used to belong to Aegon. He has the boxes filled with the boy's clothing, the silver, the armor of his guardians, the court clothes. He might have had Aegon's dragons's eggs too but he gave them to Daenerys. So now Aegon has to earn his dragon himself. He was robbed and abandoned, that's why he is alone. I still think that Varys is secretly rooting for him and might turn sides when Young Griff dies. You may be interested in re-reading the prologue to A Feast for Crows for the reference to Aegon the Conqueror and Jaqen. There is a mention of Aegon's single-dragoned conquest of Westeros. Now, Jaqen comes to Oldtown to learn how to hatch his dragon's egg and he is surely dreaming of conquering Westeros with his dragon like Aegon I did it.

The last part of your question, the symbolism of weirwoods. Yes, yes and yes: the weirwood that Brienne sees symbolizes J/Aegon and Arya. It means that they are connected to the powerful weirwood magic. They will join the old gods someday. Their souls are immortal and they will live together in weirwoods for eternity.

I'm sorry but I can't remember which Daenerys's vision you have in mind. It would be great if you could find the quote from the books, thank you in advance!

I apologize for the long answer. There is just so much book material to explain.

Thank you for another interesting question :)