#the most anticipated anime of 2023

[zhongrin]

festered wounds

— when you’ve never been the first choice your whole life, it’s hard to accept the possibility that you could be loved.

© zhongrin | 2023  ✼  no repost・translations・plagiarism of any kind・ai data mining. rebloggers get a free cup of tea ♡

✼ characters ┈ zhongli, al haitham, wriothesley

✼ tags ┈ gn!reader, this is more of a vent drabble, hurt with comfort, reader with massive insecurity issues, implied past trauma, slight blood & gore in the portrayal of ‘hurt’

✼ a/n ┈ this…. got really personal, haha. i wrote this in a bad headspace, so apologies if it got depressing or if it’s of a low quality. i didn't want to have this in my drafts and i certainly don't want to bring it to 2024 so i'm just posting this now.

ᴏᴜʀ ꜰᴜʟʟ ᴍᴇɴᴜ (ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ)  ✼ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱʜɪᴘ (ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ)

“i’m sorry.”

zhongli’s heart dropped at the words escaping your lips. this was certainly the most unexpected response you could give to his confession, seeing the promising recent developments in your relationship — and so celestia forgive him, he had to pause to gather his thoughts. this made you fidget even more under his gaze, and so you succumbed to your frazzled nerves to continue in a more panicked voice.

“i’m sorry, mr. zhongli, i know you’re not the type to resort to deceit or find joy in toying with people’s feelings, but i’m just— i can’t—” you trailed off, feeling your chest tighten in pain.

“please, hold your tongue for a moment,” the refined man held out one of his hand to settle onto your shoulder comfortingly. his expression was a mixture of worry and confusion, eyebrows furrowing in a sign of distress. “are you saying that you… do not believe my words? you think i have malicious intentions?”

“….. i’m sorry, i’m just not used to- i’ve never-” you stumbled over your words and squeezed your eyes shut, “i’m sorry….”

zhongli watched you for a moment, observing the smallest ticks and the story behind your body language. you looked so vulnerable, like a scared animal instinctively cowering at some invisible threat. you looked as if someone had stripped away a bandage that had been haphazardly wrapped around a wound left unattended for so long, it had festered into an abomination, eating away at you slowly, even now.

belatedly, he realized that ‘someone’ was himself.

zhongli inhaled deeply, his palm leaving your shoulder. this time, he took his hands to tenderly grab your fingers, lifting them up to silently plead for your attention. your eyes were troubled and full of storms, the rain and lighting reflecting on your expression as a solemn flutter of your eyelashes and sorrowful downturn of your lips. the slight tremble of your body reflected the silent call for help from a blemished heart that never had the courage to forget.

“my dearest. i see the pain you have gone through. i have yet to know the tales that had marred your heart, but i want you to know that i am willing to be the pair of ears you tell your grievances to, and you can be rest assured that they will be safe with me. i know my words will not be enough to convince you otherwise at this moment… however, you must forgive my impatience, for it stems out of genuine love. i simply must humbly ask once again—”

“— please, give me a chance to heal you.”

“a-are you sure you want me?”

out of the 18 different responses he anticipated, al haitham did not expect this. however, his surprise merely manifested in the rising of both of his eyebrows and the subtle shift on his legs.

“unlike the consensus the public seemed to have one-sidedly agreed on, i am not foolish enough in the matter of romance as to confess to someone i do not hold deep affection and great care for,” he said in the same tone as the moment he asked if you would consider taking your relationship into the ‘officially dating’ phase, “is it not obvious? kaveh claimed i was ‘laying it on thick’ and cyno had noted of how i treat you better than how i treat the dendro archon.”

“oh….”

“….”

“….”

you thought you had gotten used to al haitham’s stare with how much you both had been hanging out, but right now you couldn’t seem to lift your head. the scholar crossed his arms, waiting patiently for your response. you were both gratuitous and dreading his resilience.

“i-i still think you could do better, though. i mean, look at you! you’re so fit, so wouldn’t you feel better if your partner is more of the sporty type? and you’re the top graduate of the haravatat darshan, so you would pair better with someone smarter…. a-and someone like me will just drag you down; aesthetically speaking, i… uh, leave much to be desired while you’re… you know…”

you spoke of such illogical assumptions and erroneous advices that he couldn’t help but roll his eyes. you spoke of belittling yourself as if you were used to riding on the rails of insurmountably low dip of the self-esteem cliff for years. you spoke of these things as if you were repeating words someone told you at least once in your life.

and it angered him.

but he wasn’t angry at you. he was angry for you.

funny how empathy wasn’t his strong suit, and yet he jumped on the bandwagon as easily as an otter taking off into the waters the moment it came to you and your emotions.

“i care not for such shallow qualifications when it comes to seeking a partner. your presence triggers the relevant hormones that make me feel relaxed and comfortable, and my mind spontaneously seek for your attention. it’s only logical that i seek for an arrangement that would ensure these pleasant things to happen and develop further.”

“you’re the best choice for a partner, simply because i wish to spend the rest of my life with you; and i think that's enough.”

“i don’t think i’m a good choice for you…”

wriothesley looked as if you had pinpointed his weak point in a boxing match and delivered a straight jab right onto it. his lips slacked open and his body froze as he tried to process your words, the meaning behind it, the—

he inhaled deeply and punched his own fist into his palm, stretching his jaw with a growl before a darker tone took over his voice.

“alright, who’s been talking shit? let me at them. it won’t be manslaughter if they don’t die, right?”

he watched as your nervously fiddling fingers stopped twisting around each other, your eyes widened in shock and alarm at his words. briefly, he praised himself inwardly for being able to switch your mood at the snap of his fingers. now if only he could do that, but instead of surprise-and-horror, it could turn into surprise-and-joy instead…

“what?! wait- no! no one said that, i ju—”

“then is your own head telling you that?”

“it’s—” you gulped, gaze slowly breaking away.

he sensed a secret kept safe under the heaviest chains and locks. pain that had nearly torn up that warm heart of yours, shoved into the furthest part of you in a desperate attempt to save yourself; to silence the damned screams and the river of curses that would have made you self-destruct. he saw the remains of the thousands of needles that had embedded itself deep inside your worn heart a long time ago, and yet still it beat and struggled to not bleed out and drown you in its venomous blood.

he saw a heart as scarred as his skin, and he understood.

“..… alright, sweetheart, listen up, and listen close.”

the man’s hands suddenly cradled your cheeks, his icy blue eyes penetrating your clouded gaze. his whole demeanor had shifted into gentle and loving, as if he was holding his entire world in the palms of his hands. he resisted the urge to kiss you when you couldn’t help but lean onto his touch, instinctively seeking comfort.

he would do you better. he would give you the kind of love you’ve yet to experience. there were so much he wanted to say, but he chose to speak of the reassurance he thought you needed most at this moment.

“i say you’re the perfect choice for me. let me prove it to you.”

✼ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱʜɪᴘ (ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ) ┈ @abyssmal-skies | @hamdehlesmis | @depressivecomforts | @sunnshineflxwer | @yuutasbabe | @queen-belial | @stygianoir | @silentmoths | @niktwazny303 | @dustofthedailylife | @marina-and-the-memes | @mixed-kester | @lordbugs | @anonymousficreader | @shizunxie | @ansy-tea | @irethepotato | @sassy-cat-in-town | @syrenkitsune | @smokipoki | @cakeboxie | @crystalflygeo | @ciexuvia | @illaasya | @celestewritestoomuch | @pams-comfortzone | @spidermanluvr444 | @ourstrawberryclouds | @ryuryuryuyurboat

[pedrospatch]

to hell and back l one

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist l main masterlist l next chapter

summary: After escaping a group of brutal slavers, you are left with permanent physical and emotional scars. Unwilling to put your trust in another human being ever again, you spend a year fighting for survival alone in the post outbreak world. But when you choose to save the life of a man named Joel Miller, the wall that you’ve built to protect yourself slowly begins to crumble.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI. canon violence, canon language, brief mentions of slavers, brutality, torture, assault, guns, reader is an archer, mentions of hunting, animal death, injured/unconscious Joel, very minor mentions of blood, age gap (reader is 30, Joel is 56) very brief mention of scars, reader does not/cannot speak at times, a lot of internal dialogue from reader, at one point reader does try to speak to Joel but she is unable. *please be advised that no specific diagnosis is used or will be mentioned, i’m writing the series with the idea that reader herself cannot fully comprehend her inability to speak at times. basically the gist of it is we have a very traumatized person who does not realize just how traumatized she is.

word count: 8.2k (good lord I am so sorry)

a/n: not a whole lot to say except for that this is...different. at least i think it is, i could be wrong lmao. this is by far one of the most challenging things i have ever decided to write, but hopefully it turned out okay

California l Fall, 2023

You’d been on the run since dawn.

It was several hours later now and nightfall was approaching—and it was approaching a hell of a lot fucking faster than you could have even anticipated. The darkness was quickly closing in, falling around you like a velvet black curtain. However, stumbling around blindly in the dark was currently the very least of your worries. 

Your feet were raw, both completely blistered and bleeding through your socks inside of your worn out, muddied white canvas sneakers. Your sore, aching legs screamed out for mercy and your knees trembled violently, threatening to buckle out from underneath the weight of your body at any given moment. 

In the week and a half leading up to your escape from captivity, you’d been deprived of both food and water—it had been your punishment for closing your eyes and turning your head away after you’d been instructed by the slavers to watch their brutal assault of the young teenaged girl that you had been sharing a cage with. She’d been unable to keep up with her work duties, and they had decided to make an example out of her.

Despite still having been forced to witness the horrendous, unspeakable things they’d done to that poor girl, your initial resistance resulted in you being beaten and then starved for several days. Occasionally, one of the late night guards would try and bribe you, offering a small piece of jerky or a couple of stale crackers in exchange for a blowjob. At first, you told him you’d rather cut your own tongue out with a rusty blade than suck his dick, but when he proposed the disgusting, vile trade again just a couple of nights later, you’d accepted it—because him pulling you out of that fucking cage after hours and removing the tight shackles from your wrists when no one else was around would give you the chance to finally make a run for it.

You swung yourself around the nearest redwood tree, slumping back against its thick, wide trunk. You covered your mouth with your two hands in an attempt to silence the sound of your heavy panting. 

Besides being in pain, malnourished and severely dehydrated, the exhaustion was starting to set in too. The adrenaline pumping through your veins had brought you this far, but exactly how much farther could it take you? How much longer could it possibly keep you going before your tired body decided to give up and give out?

Somewhere behind you, you could hear the men calling out cheerfully.

One sang out, “Come out, come out, wherever you are!”

“Come out and plaaaaay,” a second taunted.

The third shouted, “We’re gonna get you!”

Their giddiness made you want to vomit. If your stomach hadn’t been empty, you would have.

Those sick, twisted fucks weren’t letting up. 

They’d been on your heels for hours.

The large group of slavers in California were over two hundred strong and had dozens of prisoners chained up in their human cages—they had more than enough people to force into labor. There was no need for them to waste their time and efforts going after you, but after spending the last eight months witnessing firsthand how these sadistic bastards operated, it occurred to you that their desire to recapture you wasn’t out of a need for labor. It was for their entertainment. 

They were hunting you down for sport.

This was their idea of fun.

“Fuck,” you whispered underneath your breath, your hands falling down to your sides.

Something had to give.

Your legs, your body, your will to live.

Perhaps all of the above.

You couldn’t keep on running for much longer.

And even if you could, where the hell were you supposed to go? How were you supposed to get there?

You had no food, no water, and no weapon.

Just the torn, tattered clothes on your back.

You were defenseless against whatever else was out there and you couldn’t see yourself surviving longer than a couple of days at most.

There was a part of you that wanted to give up and surrender. If you could be absolutely certain that they would shoot you dead on the spot, you would actually consider it and step out from behind the tree—hell, you would happily let them put a bullet between your eyes and put you out of your misery once and for all. But they wouldn’t be so generous. You knew they would have their way with you here in the middle of this forest and only after they were done would they take you back to their settlement where they’d put you right back in shackles so the real torture could begin. Just like that teenaged girl, the slavers would make an example out of you so that nobody else in their right mind would even think about running away. 

They would be sure to make your death as slow and as agonizing as possible.  

No. If you were going to die, then you were going to die. But fucking not like that.

Hearing them draw closer towards where you’d been hiding, you pushed yourself away from the redwood and willed yourself to keep on going.

Wyoming l Fall 2024

Your eyes softly flutter open.

Bright, early morning sunlight filters in through the ripped, white lace curtains that hang over the small, square shaped window right above your head. 

Blinking the sleep away, you prop yourself up slightly on your elbows and take a glance around at your surroundings. The old, abandoned cabin that you’d stumbled across just a couple of days ago is tiny, cramped, and crumbling. It also reeks—it smells damp, musty, and earthy, like rotting wood. But beggars can’t be choosers and you are certainly in no position to be a chooser right now. It’s not what you consider to be ideal, but it’s four walls and a roof, which is more than anyone can ask for. It’s sparsely furnished with a table and two chairs, an old wood burning stove you had been too afraid to light because you didn’t want to risk setting the place on fire, and there’s even a small, twin sized bed for you to sleep on. Well, perhaps calling it a bed was a tad bit too generous. It’s really just a mattress sitting on four large concrete blocks. It’s rough, dirty, and torn with rusted springs and bits of fluff sticking out from every corner. Still, it sure as fuck beat the hell out of sleeping outside in the dirt and using a rock as a pillow.

Besides the luxury of having something close to a proper roof to sleep under, there’s also a lake just two and a half miles north of the cabin where you had been able to fill your canteen with fresh water. Not to mention, you’d also been able to bathe and wash your clothes for the first time in a couple of weeks. You had been on your own for about a year now, and this was the luckiest you’ve gotten in terms of finding a decent place to stay.

Whether or not it’s safe, it was still too early to tell. 

Sure, you were out somewhere in the middle of bumfuck nowhere and hadn’t seen a single soul, living or dead, in a couple of months now. But that still didn’t mean that running into the infected or other people wasn’t a possibility. Letting your guard down was risky. Too risky. 

You swing your legs over the side of the mattress and sit up, slipping on your pair of warm, wool socks before tugging on your boots—you’d found them over the summer and even though they had been about one size too small for you, you’d managed to break them in since then and the supple brown leather now molds almost perfectly to your feet. You stand up and lift your arms up above your head while simultaneously twisting your stiff, sore back in a painful, but much needed stretch. You’re only just a couple of months shy of turning thirty years old, but lately, your bones snap, crackle and pop with each and every movement, making you feel twice your actual age. 

The thought of it makes you snort in amusement. You should be so lucky to stay alive long enough to see the age of sixty. Hell, you’re still unable to fathom how you’d even made it this close to seeing thirty.

Dropping your arms back down to your sides, you make your way over to your khaki colored pack and pull out your aluminum canteen from one of the side pockets. You twist off the cap and gulp back a long, cool drink of water, hoping to get rid of the dryness in your mouth and the cracks in your chapped lips. As soon as the liquid makes it all the way down to the pit of your stomach, the hollow, muscular organ grumbles loudly, demanding food. You’d had some decent luck while out hunting the previous morning, capturing two wild rabbits—you had eagerly skinned, cleaned and cooked them both, devouring one right after the other so fast that it had nearly made you sick. It had been a pretty decent meal, but not nearly enough to completely satisfy your ravenous hunger. Prior to finding the cabin and settling in, you had been living off of a couple handfuls of nuts and berries for three days while on the move. You were still fucking starving and all you could do was pray that you’d find more rabbits today. 

Maybe you’d get even luckier and spot a pheasant. It was their season, after all. 

You drink some more water and set your canteen aside. You’d planned to return to the lake later in the afternoon to refill it as well as to have another bath. You pull on your faded, black denim jacket over your hoodie and pick up the wooden bow and brown leather quiver of arrows sitting beside your pack. You’d found the weapon in some hunting shop back in Utah that had already been picked clean to the bone over the last couple of decades. However, no one had even bothered with taking the bow. It hadn’t really surprised you, though. In the post outbreak world, a bow and arrow would do absolutely nothing to protect against the infected runners and stalkers—and it would do much less to protect against clickers unless your aim was flawless.

Still, a bow was useful in its own right. 

It was perfect for hunting game. It was silent, keeping you and your location concealed from potential passersby at all times. Most importantly, you could reuse your arrows so long as you were careful and didn’t break them while removing them from your kills—and in the event that you did happen to snap an arrow, all you had to do was salvage what you could from the damaged projectile and make a new one. Simple as that. 

Your father had taught you how before he’d died.

“Why bother with a bow? What about a gun?” you had asked him. 

“Might not always be able to get your hands on a gun,” he’d replied as he sharpened an edge of the small, thumb sized rock in his hand. “Or bullets. It doesn’t hurt to have alternatives in the event that you can’t get your hands on either of those things, kiddo.” Despite being in your mid twenties at the time, he’d still always call you kiddo. “Always have a backup weapon, alright?”

He’d been wise to give you that advice.

You did have a firearm, a colt pistol that you hardly have ammunition for. There were ten rounds left in the clip and with no luck in finding any more in the last couple of months, you’d decided to preserve them, saving what little bullets you had left for a real emergency. You kept the gun tucked into the waistband of your jeans at all times, along with the sharp switchblade that you used to gut and skin game. As far as weapons go, you sure as hell could’ve been a lot worse off. But if you happened to stumble upon more ammunition for your gun, you certainly wouldn’t complain about it. 

Slinging your bow and the quiver of arrows over your shoulder, you grab the dark gray foraging bag that you used to collect and carry your kills in and leave the cabin, feeling somewhat confident enough to leave the remainder of your belongings behind instead of hauling them all along with you like you had the morning before. It wasn’t that you feared someone would come along and steal them. There wasn’t really anything for anyone to steal, anyway. Rather, you’d gotten so damn used to the instability and the constant moving around—you never stayed in one place for too long and were always prepared to run. But today, you decide to leave your things in the cabin, feeling certain that you would return in just a couple of hours. 

You step out onto the creaking, three step porch that’s so old it buckles slightly under your weight and a gentle breeze nips at your cheeks and nose. It’s the middle of autumn in Wyoming and the air outside is fresh, cool and crisp. Winter was looming right around the corner like a dark shadow, and although you’d somehow managed to make it through the previous year’s brutal snow season, that didn’t do much to stop you from being nervous about the one that was to come. If all went according to your plan, you’d be holing yourself up in that shoddy little cabin until the worst of winter was over and then you would move along.

To where?

You didn’t have the slightest fucking clue. 

You make a short trek about two miles south, going in the opposite direction of the lake and finding yourself closer to the thick forest trees that surrounded the base of the mountain range out in the distance instead. There’s a dried, grassy clearing just feet from the entrance of the forest—finding a single, decently sized boulder in the middle of the wide, open space, you decide that behind it is the perfect spot for you to set up and hope for the best. Carefully setting your things down on the ground, you pull out a pair of old, cracked binoculars from your bag. You lean your body over the smooth, round top of the rock and lift them up to your face, peeking through the lenses. You hope to spot something right away because it sure would be fucking nice to eat something sooner rather than later. Otherwise you might just start gnawing at your own arm. 

Diligently, you scan your surroundings for any and all signs of wildlife. 

That’s when you see it, standing near the edge of the woods.

You gasp softly as your sights fall upon the deer. 

Pulling your face away from your binoculars, you blink furiously before taking another look just to be sure that your eyes hadn’t been playing tricks on you. It’s not a hallucination. It’s a white tailed deer, a female, and from the look of her, she has to be at least about a hundred pounds. At least.

You try to not get too far ahead of yourself, but it’s far too late. The thought of finding some herbs and making a hot, venison stew for supper makes your mouth water. The rest of the meat could be dried out and made into a batch of jerky that could feed you for months. Months.

Then, you suddenly remember you’ve never even attempted to bring down an animal of that size before and you’re slapped back into reality.

You think about your father, who would bring home a deer every weekend after going on his hunting trips with some of his old college buddies. “You want to aim for the heart or the lungs,” he’d say as you and your siblings would watch him dress the carcass, much to your mother’s chagrin. “Look between the shoulder blade and the last rib,” he would tell you and your brothers. You’d also had an older sister, but she had always been incredibly squeamish and had a soul that was much too sweet and caring for hunting. She would always want to bring home every animal your father shot and nurse it back to health. “Somewhere between those two lies everything you need to hit in order to do the job and do it well. And for the love of god, don’t you ever aim directly for the shoulder. Behind it, kiddos, always aim behind it. You got it?”

“Yes Papa,” you’d all chime out together.

Setting down the binoculars in your hands, you reach for your bow and pluck an arrow from your quiver before stepping out from behind the boulder. You’re careful to be as silent as possible as you take a few steps closer towards the unsuspecting grazing animal. You position yourself and stand perpendicular to the deer, placing your feet shoulder width apart—you’re a little farther from your target than you would have preferred, but you don’t want to risk going any closer and scaring her off, so it would have to do. Once you feel comfortable enough with your stance, you nock the arrow and set it on the string. You then hold the string and steady your grip on the bow, relaxing your shoulders before drawing it and pulling your arm back until you’ve reached your anchor point, which is always the corner of your mouth. 

Breathe, you remind yourself calmly as you aim at the delicate spot behind her shoulder blade. Nice and slow. Breathe.

Just as you’re about to release the arrow and take your shot, the deer whips her head back towards the trees and her ears prick forward—a split second later, she darts off, zooming across the field in the opposite direction of where you’d been standing. 

Your mouth falls open in disbelief. 

“Are you fucking shitting me?” you mutter under your breath.

Frustrated, you lower your weapon and just as you start to contemplate whether or not it’s even worth it to try and hunt her down on foot, you suddenly hear something—it isn’t until the noise draws closer to where you’re standing that you realize it’s the sound of a galloping horse.

Perplexed, you squint over in the direction of where you think it’s coming from, right near the edge of the trees. Then, just a moment later, a brown stallion emerges from the woods with a dark haired man riding in his saddle. He holds a rifle in one hand and clutches the reins tightly in the other. 

Gasping, you whirl around on the heel of your boot and immediately make a beeline back to the boulder. You swing around the rock and crouch down, ducking out of his sight. You couldn’t be too sure if he’d seen you or not, but it doesn’t matter—a wave of sheer panic washes over you and you can physically feel your own body preparing itself to go into fight or flight mode. Despite having your gun tucked into the waistband of your jeans, you still haven’t reached for it and continue to clutch your bow and arrow in your hands instead. 

Swallowing dryly, you turn and carefully lift yourself up just enough so that you can glimpse over the top of the boulder. That’s when you see a second man emerge from the woods. This one is blond and he is on foot instead of a horse. He’s also armed, carrying a shotgun. 

“You’re mine you fucking son of a bitch!” he shouts. He lifts his weapon, aims, and then squeezes the trigger, shooting the horse in the side and bringing him down instantly. His rider goes flying off and he hits the ground several feet away from the dead animal, landing so painfully hard that even from a distance you’d manage to hear the loud, cracking sound his body had made upon impact.

You momentarily freeze. 

Your heart anxiously jumps up into your throat as you watch the shooter begin to approach him. The attacker moves slowly and with no haste seeing as his helpless victim is lying there motionless on the ground with his eyes closed and no idea that he’s about to die. The blond man comes to a halt just a few feet away from him, grinning as he lifts his shotgun once again and points the barrel of it at the other man’s head. His index finger hovers over the trigger. 

Before your mind and body can even make the connection, you rise to your feet and aim your bow, swiftly sending an arrow straight through the blond man’s neck. He crumples, falling to the ground writhing and squirming as he bleeds out in less than sixty seconds.

You wait it out for another minute, refusing to move another muscle until his body finally goes limp and you are certain he’s dead. Taking a look around, you make sure the coast is clear and grab your belongings, slinging them over your shoulder before you make your way over to the scene. Unsure of whether or not there could be others heading in this direction, your plan was to pick off their guns and any other useful supplies before making a run for it back to the cabin. You crouch down beside the man you’d shot and killed, carefully pulling your arrow out of his neck. It makes a loud, horrid squelching sound as you remove it and blood from his jugular splatters your blue jeans. You then pick up his shotgun and check the chamber for ammunition. 

Just like the pistol tucked away in your waistband, there’s hardly any rounds left, making it all but useless. Rolling your eyes, you carelessly drop the gun on top of his chest and move on in search of the rifle. You spot it right beside the dark haired man.

Apprehensive, you cautiously make your way over towards him. With how still he had been lying, you could have sworn he was gone—perhaps the fall off of his horse alone had killed him. But just to be sure, you decide to give his side a harsh nudge with the toe of your boot. 

He groans and his head rolls to the side.

He’s still alive.

You effortlessly string the bloodied arrow in your hand and aim it right at his chest.

Move again and you’re dead, motherfucker.

“Ellie,” the man mumbles, his eyes still closed.

Ellie?

You slowly lower your bow.

Without realizing it, a little bit of your guard lowers along with it. 

Carefully, you sink down onto one knee next to the man and get a better look at him. He’s much older than yourself, somewhere in his fifties if you had to guess. He has harsh forehead lines, deep creases in between his eyebrows, a patchy beard that is speckled with many, many grays, and wild waves of thick hair that look soft to the touch. Though some of his features are a little worse for wear due to his age, he’s still quite a handsome man from what you can see. He also appears to be in decent shape, clean and well fed, and you detect the light scent of laundry soap on his clothes. Surely, he had to have been part of some kind of group, and judging by the leather trimmed saddle on his horse, this group was one that was very well off in this post outbreak world. 

You hesitate, but then lift a slightly trembling hand and take the side of his face, cupping it in your palm as you turn his head towards you. 

There’s blood on his right temple and your fingers reach up to touch what you had assumed was the source of the bleeding—but then you realize it was a scar, maybe an inch or two in length at most and completely healed. Your fingers trail up even further and venture into his hair which, as it turned out, is in fact just as soft as one would imagine. You find a small gash on his scalp and your fingers become coated in the man’s blood.

Must’ve hit himself on a rock or something.

Your hand leaves his hair and you place it on his broad chest as you begin checking him over for any other potential injuries or wounds. Slipping your opposite hand inside of his brown jacket, you lift the hem of the dark green thermal henley he’s wearing and you discover the scar on his temple isn’t the only one he possesses—he has several more, way too many for you to count on one hand alone. You’re so preoccupied with inspecting the remainder of his abdomen that you don’t even notice the way one of his hands is slowly reaching for yours, the hand that’s still resting on his chest, right over his heartbeat.

Semiconscious, the man takes your hand in his so damn gently that it startles you and takes you by surprise, but it doesn’t frighten you. Weakly, he laces his fingers together with your own and he speaks again, uttering softly, “Babygirl.”

Puzzled, your eyebrows knit together.

It almost sounds like he’s pleading.

For what—for who? For Ellie?

Is she the babygirl he’s referring to?

Your other hand moves up to his shoulder and you give it a violent shake. 

Hey, you’ve got to get up now.

“H—” You try to speak the words, but can’t. They’re formed in your mind and it feels like they are right there on the very tip of your tongue, but when you open your mouth, they refuse to come out. You frown.

It’s happened before. 

In the spring, you’d stumbled across a small group of people while out hunting in Idaho—it was the first time you had seen other human beings since leaving California in the fall. There had been both men and women and they even had children with them, but that did nothing to stop you from panicking when they’d approached you. One of the women cornered you, trying to tell you that they were traveling across the country to the east coast. “It’s okay,” she’d tried to tell you, holding up her hands. “We’re not bad people, I promise. We’re just trying to get to the quarantine zone in Boston. I think you should come with us, honey.”

You’d been so terrified that when you’d tried to tell her that you didn’t want to join them, you couldn’t push the words out. It felt like your voice had gotten stuck in the back of your throat. That’s how afraid you’d been.

Technically, you can speak.

You’d talk to yourself often when you were feeling lonely. You would read the books you carried in your pack out loud. Hell, you even liked to sing.

But whenever you became stressed, anxious, or scared, it would happen. You’d lose your ability to speak and to communicate—not that you had anyone to communicate with except for yourself, but that’s besides the point. No matter how hard you tried to force your vocal cords, all you could get out were quiet, strangled noises. It was as if your own fears chased your voice away and during periods when you were under extreme distress, it would take several days for you to find it again. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that, whenever you used your voice back in California, it only led to the harshest of punishments. 

A gunshot sounds off in the distance, snapping you out of your train of thought.

You shake the man again, harder this time.

Come on, get up! They could be coming this way!

It’s useless. He’s losing complete consciousness. 

You hear another gunshot and this one sounds like it’s coming from the base of the mountain range on the other side of the trees, not all too far from where you are. For all you know, it could very well be members of his own group who are firing those weapons out there. But whether it was his group or the other man’s group, it doesn’t really fucking matter. You don’t want to run into either one of them, regardless of who were the good guys and who were the bad guys. In your eyes, everyone’s a fucking bad guy. 

Yanking your hand out of his, you get to your feet and prepare to make a run for it. But just as you’re about to take off, the man mumbles one last time. It’s incoherent and barely audible, but you manage to catch that name again. Ellie. 

Ellie, Ellie, Ellie.

For some reason you can’t quite explain, that sweet little name bounces around in the inside of your skull. 

You chew the inside of your cheek anxiously. 

If it’s his group out there, they’ll save him.

If it’s the other man’s group, they’ll kill him.

Normally, you’d have no problem with the idea of leaving another person to die.

After everything that happened in California, you had lost your sense of humanity. Your ability to empathize and actually give a shit about other people had been long gone—or so you’d thought. But you had just saved this man’s life and now you find yourself unwilling to run the risk of leaving him for dead. And you don’t have the slightest fucking clue as to why. He’s a stranger. He shouldn’t matter to you. 

You exhale a heavy sigh of defeat.

Okay, how the fuck do I do this?

Without much time left to waste, you gather up your belongings over your shoulder and pick up his rifle, slinging the brown leather strap across your chest so the gun rests comfortably against your backside. You walk around him, lean over, and hook your arms securely underneath his. Using every ounce of physical strength you have inside of you, you start dragging him back to the cabin as fast as you possibly can.

The pretty melody fills his ears as he comes to.

“Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high

there’s a land that I heard of once in a lullaby…”

Joel Miller isn’t all too sure if heaven is a real place that actually exists, but the very minute he hears the feminine voice singing, he can’t help but think he’s died and that’s exactly where he’s gone—because only an angel could possibly have a voice like that. So rich, so smooth, and oh so sickeningly sweet.

“Somewhere over the rainbow, skies are blue...”

The ballad being sung is all too familiar to him.

The Wizard of Oz had been Sarah’s favorite movie back when she had been a little girl, when she was seven years old and she still believed in princesses and fairy tales and faraway lands with yellow brick roads. Even when she grew older, his daughter continued to hold a soft spot for the film and Joel would watch it with her every Thanksgiving at his parents’ house right after their dinner—it would air on cable and Sarah would beg him to let her have her slice of pecan pie while sitting cross legged on the floor in front of his old man’s television set.

“So long as you don’t make a mess on Nana and PopPop’s carpet,” he’d warn her. “Deal?”

Sarah would beam at him and nod eagerly. “Deal!”

He’d grab his own slice of pie, park it right on the couch behind her, and together they would get lost in the whimsical world of Oz, although admittedly he’d usually fall deep into his food coma long before Dorothy had the chance to make it back home to Kansas.  

“Where troubles melt like lemon drops

away above the chimney tops 

that’s where you’ll find me...”

The words fade and the rest of the song is now being hummed.

Goddamn, he thinks.Even the humming is too fucking beautiful.

Joel feels a cold, damp cloth dabbing at his sore right temple.

Come to think of it, everything is fucking sore. 

Once, when Joel had been in his mid twenties, he had been doing some under the table roofing job with his younger brother, Tommy. It had been the hottest day of the summer in Texas, and the two of them thought having a couple cold beers with their lunch to cool off would be a good idea. The pair of them went back to work and started fucking around, goofing off like the drunk idiots they were. While horsing around, Joel accidentally stumbled right over the edge of the roof and he had fallen about fifteen feet to the ground, landing on his back on Mrs. Adler’s lawn. Luckily, he’d been okay after the fall and hadn’t sustained any serious injuries or broken any bones, but he had spent the following three to four weeks feeling like he’d been hit by a fucking Greyhound.

That’s how he felt now.

Like he’d been hit by a fucking bus. Twice. There isn’t a single part of him that isn’t pulsating with pain—his back, his shoulders, and his head. Oh god, his head feels the worst. It’s fucking killing him. 

Joel’s eyelids twitch and he cracks them open ever so slightly, just enough that he can see the silhouette of another person hovering over him. He feels a hand at the crown of his head as the other continues to dab at his temple with the cool cloth. It feels incredible against his warm skin and even sort of soothes the pain.

He lets out a small groan and the humming ceases.

Finally, he manages to force his eyes open.

Joel hears a little gasp and the bed he’s lying on squeaks and shifts. He then hears a loud thumping sound as if something, or someone had fallen to the floor. 

Although he’s still disoriented and his entire body aches with even the slightest movement, Joel manages to push himself up into a sitting position. Blinking rapidly, his blurred vision steadies itself after a minute and he glances around. He’s in a small, single room wooden cabin that has seen better days in its lifetime. Looking down, he sees that he’s lying on a bare, worn out mattress with his own jacket draped over him like a blanket. He racks his mildly concussed brain, trying to recollect what had happened—it takes him a minute, but one by one, the memories start flooding back to him. Joel had been leading mid morning patrol with Tommy when they had been ambushed by a large group of hostile raiders. He remembers shouting at his brother, telling him that he’d try and lead some of them off, away from the direction of their community. He’d succeeded and managed to pick off a few of the bastards that had been tailing him with his rifle, all except for one. The very last thing that he remembered was the sound of a gunshot behind him before his horse went down and he’d been thrown off and knocked out.

Everything after that was nothing but a blur.

Joel takes another look around the cabin and that’s when he sees you.

You’re on the floor, backed up against the wall near the foot of the mattress. Your eyes are wide and round, like a deer caught in the headlights. Your chest heaves, rising and falling rapidly—you remind him of a helpless, frightened animal that had been cornered by a vicious predator. You clutch the handle of a switchblade up against your chest with the blade pointing downwards, holding it so tightly in your hand that Joel can see the skin stretching tightly over your knuckles. 

“Who the hell are you?” He grimaces slightly, his own voice causing his head to throb. 

You don’t reply.

Joel moves onto his next question. “Where am I?”

Again, no response.

He tries again. “Are you alone?”

Silence. 

Joel takes a better look at you.

You’re young. You couldn’t have been older than your late twenties, perhaps even your early thirties although that might have been a bit of a stretch. You had that look about you, one that had become all but too familiar to him in the last two decades—the exhausted appearance of someone trying to survive in the post outbreak world. Your face is tired and worn, but somehow still soft and youthful at the same time. You might have looked a little rough around the edges, but you’re still the prettiest goddamn thing he’s seen in a long, long time. 

Joel speaks again. “Who are you? Where the hell are we?” When he’s met with complete silence for the fourth time, he raises an eyebrow, feeling annoyed. “You gonna fuckin’ say somethin’ or what?”

You can only stare at him, your fingers wrapped around the handle of your knife in a vice-like grip.

Joel frowns.

Are you really that fucking terrified of him?

Or perhaps you can’t hear?

Only one way to find out, he thinks to himself.

He raises his voice, asking once again, “Who are you? Where are we?”

You wince, your features twisting in discomfort.

Oh, you could fucking hear him, alright. 

Joel swings his legs over the side of the mattress, his movement causing you to shrink back further against the wall, almost as if you were trying to become a part of the old, rotted wood. He holds up his two hands, demonstrating that he has no plans to move another muscle towards you. “How long have I been out?”

He tries to show some patience and gives you a minute, gives you a chance to respond, but when you say nothing, he can’t help but sigh out in frustration. Just when he’s about to force himself to come to terms with the fact that he wouldn’t be getting any kind of answers out of you, you lift your free hand and hold up three trembling fingers. 

His stomach sinks. “Three days? I’ve been out for three fuckin’ days?”

You give him a nod so tiny and so subtle that he would’ve missed it had he blinked.

“Fuck,” Joel curses, hanging his head. He begins to spiral.

What happened to Tommy? And the others? 

Did they make it out alive?

And then Ellie’s face flashes in his mind, causing the blood in his veins to run ice cold. 

What could she possibly be thinking right now after he’d been missing for three whole days? Who was taking care of her and looking after her while he wasn’t there?

He needed to get back to Jackson—he needed to get back to Ellie.

He wasn’t sure how he would be able to do that if you didn’t start talking soon and answering his goddamn questions.

Lifting his head, Joel looks over at you again. 

“You all by yourself?”

You hesitate, but then nod in reply. Yes.

Joel sighs, his tense shoulders relaxing. That’s a start. “Listen, I’m gonna need a little help here, alright? I don’t remember much ‘bout what happened. I’m part of a community. I was out on patrol with my group when we were attacked by raiders. There were too many of them and I tried to lead some of them away,” he explains. He might not have known what had happened after he’d been thrown off of his horse, but the fact that he’s in your cabin and he’s alive help him piece at least one part of the puzzle together. “Wait a minute. Did you—did you save me out there?”

Sucking in your bottom lip, you nod again.

Stunned, Joel’s eyebrows raise up towards his hairline. “You fuckin’ serious?” he can’t help but question in complete and utter disbelief. Skeptically, he presses, “But how? What happened out there? How did you get me here all by yourself?” His queries spill from his lips one after the other despite knowing most of them, if not all of them, would go unanswered.

You look overwhelmed by them—by him.

Figuring it’s best to take it one slow step at a time, Joel stands up and he cautiously walks over towards you. He holds out his hand. “S’alright,” he assures you in the most gentle voice he can muster. “I ain’t gonna hurt you.”

You refuse to loosen your grip on your knife, but you accept his hand and allow him to help you up to your feet. Given that you didn’t lodge the blade straight through his chest, Joel would say some progress had been made. 

He releases your hand and takes a step backwards to give you your space. He isn’t too sure if you can’t talk or simply don’t want to talk—still thinking you’d been the woman he’d heard singing when he had drifted back into consciousness, he guesses it’s probably the latter. 

Joel tries to think of questions he knows you’ll be able to answer without having to speak. 

“How long have you been by yourself?”

Shifting anxiously from one foot to the other, you hold up one finger. 

“Sorry darlin’ but that don’t really help me much,” he mutters, shaking his head. “Are we talkin’ one week? One month?”

You make a gesture with your hand. Keep going.

“One year?” He doesn’t bother hiding his blatant skepticism. “You’ve been completely alone for one whole year?”

You point at him. That’s right. 

Joel is beside himself. He’s almost in awe over the fact that you’ve survived on your own for so fucking long.

“You got any other weapons besides that knife?”

You nod over towards a bow and sheath of arrows next to your backpack.

“You’re kiddin’ me. That’s all you’ve got?”

You narrow your eyes at him.

Hey, it’s a good weapon and it saved your fucking life, thank you very much.

“Sorry. Just can’t imagine that thing would do much against a clicker. ‘Specially if your aim is shit,” Joel muses. He notices the offended expression on your face and quickly moves on. “You don’t have a gun at all?”

You reach behind yourself and pull out a colt pistol from the waistband of your jeans. You finally set down your knife and then show him that you’re low on ammunition and don’t have any more. Tucking the gun back into your jeans, you step around him and walk over to a corner where his rifle is propped up against the wall. You pick it up, make your way back over to him and hand it over. 

I believe this belongs to you.

“Thank you,” he utters quietly, taking it from you. “And I ain’t talkin’ ‘bout the gun, either. I honestly don’t think I’d be standin’ here alive if you hadn’t done whatever it was you did out there.” His eyes try meeting yours. “I’m serious, darlin’. I owe you one. I really fuckin’ do.”

You shrug, too timid to meet his gaze.

“I’m Joel,” he says after a minute, setting his rifle down. “What’s your name?”

You simply stare at him.

“Oh that’s right,” Joel mumbles sheepishly. “You can’t—” He stops himself, but he’s sure you know what he’d meant to say.

You can’t talk.

“You got a pencil or somethin’ to write with?”

You snort and roll your eyes at him. No, sorry. Silly me totally forgot to pick up a pack of pencils while I was out scavenging for supplies the other day.

Joel chuckles and holds up his hands in defense. “Figured it was at least worth askin’,” he says. “It’d be kinda nice to know the name of the person who saved my fuckin’ ass, you know.” He clocks the way the corners of your mouth threaten to turn upwards into a tiny smile at his remark. “How ‘bout a map? You got one of those so you can show me where we are?”

You hold up a finger, as if telling him to give you a minute. Digging into one of the front pockets of your pack, you pull out a large map of the state of Wyoming. It’s severely creased, as if you’ve folded and unfolded it hundreds of times. You hand it over to him and as he holds it out for you, you point to your current location. 

“Jackson’s ‘bout fifteen miles south from here,” Joel murmurs as he scans the map. Suddenly, his dark brown eyes flicker over your wrist—the long sleeve of your thin gray shirt had hiked up, exposing severe discoloration and scarring that went all the way around, marking your skin. 

Noticing where his gaze had wandered off to, you quickly retract your hand away from the map and tug your sleeve down back into place. But it’d been much too late. He had seen the mark, clear as fucking day. 

Joel awkwardly clears his throat and for the sake of not causing you any discomfort, he pretends he hadn’t seen a goddamn thing. He turns his attention back to the map. “Remember how I told you I’m a part of a community? It’s in Jackson and it ain’t all too far from here,” he states, peering up at you from over the top of the map. “The town’s gated and it’s secure. You’ll be safe there. If we head out right now, we can make it there by nightfall—”

You back away from him, shaking your head.

I’m not going with you.

He cocks an eyebrow at you. “Look darlin’, I don’t mean to offend, but you ain’t gonna last a whole lot longer out here on your own, especially not in a place like this with winter right around the corner. If you don’t starve to death, then you’ll fuckin’ freeze to death.”

You glare at him and lift your chin.

I’ve been doing just fine on my own, thanks. 

Having read your mind, Joel sighs. “Alright, fair enough. You’ve gotten this far by yourself, but that don’t mean you gotta turn down an offer for some help. Just come with me to Jackson—”

You shake your head even harder.

The last time that you had agreed to go back with a stranger to their camp, you’d been imprisoned. Tortured. 

Joel observes you, and it doesn’t take him very long to connect the dots between the scars around your wrists and your refusal to leave with him. His hard, stony face softens. “Listen sweetheart, I ain’t all too sure ‘bout what’s happened to you,” he says, choosing his words carefully. “But I can assure you that you ain’t gotta worry ‘bout a thing this time around. Just come with me and I’ll prove it to you.”

You toss him a skeptical look.

“Jackson is a safe place,” he swears. “My brother runs it along with his wife and a small council. There’s families, lots of children—hell I’ve got a kid myself. Teenager. Her name is Ellie and she’s fifteen years old.”

Your lips part slightly and your eyes glimmer with something that looks a lot like recognition, though Joel can’t be too sure what had prompted it. Perhaps you’d known someone with that name once in your life. 

“There’s plenty of food, running water, electricity,” he lists off in an attempt to sway you. “It’d be a shot at a normal life. Wouldn’t you like that?”

Crossing your arms, you lift your chin again.

You’d heard that before.

Why the hell should I even trust you? Why should I trust this place is what you say it is?

Joel bites back another frustrated sigh. 

Normally, he wouldn’t bother to put up with such stubbornness. He wasn’t one to plead or beg and part of him almost wanted to give up so he could be on his way, but you had saved him from being killed. He owed you his fucking life. He had to get you to go with him. He wouldn’t give up until you agreed to go to Jackson with him. 

“I’ll let you carry your weapons,” he offers as a compromise. “Hell, you can even walk behind me with your gun pointed at the back of my fuckin’ head if that’s gonna make you feel safest.”

You squint at him. Really?

“Or that bow of yours,” he adds, chuckling softly. “It’s your pick, darlin’. Whatever’s gonna make you feel comfortable. I’ll trust you not to shoot an arrow through the back of my skull—all I ask in return is that you at least make an attempt to trust me too. I think that’s a fair enough deal. Don’t you?”

You bite your bottom lip. 

I don’t know about this.

“I really don’t wanna leave you out here all alone,” Joel says, taking a step closer towards you. He finds himself feeling surprised that it hadn’t startled you and he only hopes that means that, to some degree, you trust him already. “Please. You saved my life—and I know you probably don’t need me savin’ yours, but at least let me take you to Jackson so you can see for yourself what we’ve got goin’ on there. If you don’t like it and you don’t wanna stay, then we’ll load up your pack with food and supplies. We’ll put you on a horse and you can be on your way. You can choose to leave and no one will lift a finger to stop you, I’ll make sure of it. How does that sound?”

He waits, giving you a chance to think it over.

Finally, after a minute, you sigh and reluctantly nodd your head. 

Okay. I’m gonna try and trust you.

“Good,” Joel says, softly. “Now get your stuff and let’s head out before we start losin’ daylight.” 

[kingofooo]

standee design by writer/storyboard artist Hanna K. Nyström

design cleanup by color supervisor Carolyn Ramirez

ADVENTURE TIME at SAN DIEGO COMIC-CON 2023!

———

WARNER BROS. TELEVISION SCREENINGS

WEDNESDAY, JULY 19th at 6:00pm – 9:30pm

Ballroom 20

Comic-Con and Warner Bros. Television proudly continue our annual Preview Night tradition featuring the world premiere of the highly anticipated series Adventure Time: Fionna and Cake, alongside all-new episodes of Riverdale and Teen Titans Go!, and screenings of Mrs. Davis and Superpowered: The DC Story.

———

MAX ORIGINAL ANIMATION

THURSDAY, JULY 20th at 11:00am – 12:30pm

Ballroom 20

Max Original Animation celebrates new and returning animated series' including an expansion in the Adventure Time universe, Adventure Time: Fionna & Cake; a new animated series, Young Love, based on the characters from Matthew A. Cherry and Sony Pictures Animation’s Oscar-winning animated short, Hair Love; and a preview of the upcoming fourth season for the fan-favorite Harley Quinn. The panel will feature exclusive sneak peeks, surprise panelists, and more. Moderated by Damian Holbrook (TV Guide magazine).

———

SUPERSONIC: The 15th Annual Behind-The-Music Panel

THURSDAY, JULY 20th at 10:00am – 11:00am

Room 25ABC

Get a behind-the-scenes look at what goes into creating the scores and sounds to some of today's most popular TV series and films. Panelists include Phil McGowan (score mixer, Star Trek: Picard), Amanda Jones (composer, American Horror Stories, ADVENTURE TIME: FIONNA & CAKE), Chris Bacon (composer, Wednesday), Sherri Chung (composer, Gremlins: Secrets of the Mogwai), Kurt Farquhar (composer, The Proud Family: Louder and Prouder), and Michael Yezerski (composer, Cabinet of Curiosities).

———

[svt-rosalie]

. . . ♡ MAMA ! ? 🐚 2023 ★ ﾟ๑

ׁ ׅ ୨ ❪ moments! ❫ ୧ ⊹ ࣪

© 2023 , svt-rosalie rosalie masterlist!

warnings! mentions of anxiety, mentions of a passed family member, woozi and rosie being the cutest couple korea knows, speeches, sucky writing

MAMA 2023 was the award show to see if you are a Rosalie stan! She was nominated in four categories and stole the night, as she should! Rosalie won in all four categories she was nominated in, including; Worldwide Fan Choice, Best Female Artist, Song Of The Year, and Best Music Video.

୭ৎ ࣪ ׅ ROSIE’S BEST MOMENTS !

— rosie is the biggest extrovert and loves talking to the other idols! It causes a big of mayhem for her members but who cares? not rosalie.

— you can see rosalie at some points sneaking over to le sserafim’s seating spot and talking to all of the girls and laughing loudly that you almost hear it in the background

— on the first day when they were late, rosalie kept trying not to laugh at the realization and got caught on the screen and got very embarrassed

— rosalie was dancing to almost every single song preformed especially bouncy by ateez, that’s her ass shaking song come on guys

— she started crying when woozi gave his speech for album of year and had to be consoled by seungcheol. and then cried even harder at wonwoo and seungkwan’s speech wishing only the best for the boys.

— there was multiple times woozi and rosie were caught on screen talking and holding hands during random parts of the award show

— the screams that came afterwards were oscar worthy! yunjin of le sserafim was definitely not one of those screams

— rosalie was able to perform breathe with woozi playing the piano.

— she preformed in a beautiful light blue gown, her sister’s favorite color

— every time rosie won an award the boys were hyping her up so hard and embarrassing her so hard, it was so cute though to see her laugh and playfully scold them

— when rosalie won song of the year, she had jihoon come up as well to give a speech with her

— WOOZI’S SPEECH: “Breathe is a song of comfort. It’s a song that’s suppose to let you know that it’s okay, and that someone cares. This song is for Rosalie, a girl who continues to put on a smile no matter the circumstances! Ever since we met, she never went a day without laughing and trying to make other people feel happy, regardless of how she was feeling. She deserved to know that it was okay to be upset and to need a second to breathe.

I hope people will continue to find comfort in this song and support Rosalie till the end.”

— she definitely didn’t cry when she got home that night remembering his words

୭ৎ ࣪ ׅ ROSIE WINS SONG OF THE YEAR!

Rosalie was in her own world at this point, the award show had been going on for what felt like hours which in her case you can’t blame her. It was just one of those days where she would rather be cuddled up to her animals reading a good romance book rather than sit here, waiting for a event to decide if she or her group we’re good enough for the title of “Album of the Year”. But she was grateful, 2022 and 2023 had been a tough year and she was happy she was even nominated for a category.

Always her worst critic.

Though it was finally time for the ‘Song of the Year’ category, one that she had been anticipating for a while . . . more like the whole award show. Rosalie was nervous and couldn’t help but clutch the person’s hand that was nexts to her, Jihoon.

Rosalie lets out a sigh of relief and her worries subside, for the mean time.

Then the (dreaded) words came from the announcers lips “Samsung Galaxy Song of the Year goes to….”

Rosalie didn’t know what she was stressing about. It was as if her brain couldn’t decide which thing to worry about the most; what if I don’t win, what if I do win and so forget my speech, what if I trip going up the stage, what if?

All of that seemed to fade away when the words “Breathe, Rosalie!”

Rosalie’s eyes widen comically and was captured on the big screen for all the other idols and fans to see (which they found adorable) she covered her mouth in surprise and walked up the stage never letting go of Woozi’s hand. This was just as much his award as it was hers. He wrote the song, he produced it, all Rosalie did was sing it.

Rosie made it center stage, right there for all eyes.

“Ahh, I don’t know what to say! I had a speech for incase I won but I didn’t think I would so i forgot it.” Rosie said pouting. Anyone could tell she was nervous, you didn’t need to be close to her to notice the shakiness in her hands as one held the golden MAMA award and the other holding onto Woozi like a lifeline.

Rosie took a deep breath in and out before continuing, “I never expected to get an award like this and I am so so thankful to CARATs and to everyone who stood by me and supported me and this song. This song is everything to me and I’m so glad it’s getting recognized for what it’s worth.”

Woozi stepped a bit closer to Rosie at this point and held her hand a bit tighter.

“There is one person I would like to thank from the bottom of my heart. . . my little sister who wished for this day with me. We would watch the award shows together when I had first debuted and she dreamed I would win an award like this for her one day.” Rosie looked up trying to avoid letting the tears roll down, and took another deep breath in . . . and out.

“She would say ‘Unnie! Please win a big award so I can brag to all my friends that I have the most popular older sister in the world!’ and at that time, I didn’t think it would be a reality. But here I am!”

The crowd screamed for her as she held up the award, Woozi letting out a chuckle beside her as she did.

“My little Sarang, My forever Valentine — I did it! Aren’t you proud of your most popular awesome sister?” She asked rhetorically looking up the roof of the building. Breathe, in . . . and out. “I’ll be sure to remember this day forever and make more music people can find comfort in it as I did. Thank you!”

taglist — @angie-x3 @alixnsuperstxr @allthings-fandoms

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[rainbowmoonstonestories]

A Bounty As Boundless As The Sea | Chapter 1

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: One Piece (Liveaction 2023) Rating: Explicit Relationships Dracule Mihawk x F!Reader Characters: Dracule Mihawk, Original Characters, Akagami no Shanks, Roronoa Zoro , Perona. Warnings: Mention of blood and physical torture, violence, 18+ content (minors DNI), explicit sexual content, POV switching. Summary: Constantly evading capture due to a bounty on your head, you were forced to embrace the life of a pirate, despite your initial desire for a thrilling adventure and a simple exploration of the world. One fateful day, the Marines dispatched Dracule Mihawk to hunt you down, plunging you into a game of hide and seek with the formidable Warlord of the sea throughout the East Blue. However, to your surprise, the man proved to be less bloodthirsty and hostile than you had anticipated. His piercing, hawk-like eyes, shimmering with a deep golden hue, left an indelible impression on your mind, while his apathetic yet self-assured demeanor ignited a newfound sense of intrigue within you.

Note: This story will eventually include bits from the Anime, so you should expect some Spoilers if you haven't watched it. However, everything written here is purely based on the liveaction adaptation.

Please consider that Mihawk is 41 when he first appears in One Piece, which means that the Reader is supposed to be in her thirties at best, even if the age isn't mentioned.

Credits: The divider was made by firefly-graphics.

Read on AO3.

CHAPTER 1

The day you headed out to sea from your place of origin, you didn't anticipate the course of your life to take a turn for the worse. Of course, in a world infested by piracy, riots, and wars, you were conscious of the potential perils that lurked in the horizon. However, you did not foresee that you would end up with a bounty on your head for taking the life of a Marine Admiral, who had put you through numerous days of torment and barbarism.

If anyone had conveyed to you about a similar possibilty, you would have deemed it to be a matter beyond your wildest imagination. You? A wanted criminal with the blood of another person on your hands? You were renowned for your compassion in your hometown. You could never harm a fly, no matter how hard you tried. And yet, the time you spent incarcerated for a minor food theft in the East Blue brought forth a substantial change in the person you used to be.

You had no desire of becoming a pirate, least of all taking someone's life the way you did. The legendary treasure, the One Piece, didn't entice you in the slightest, as it could very well be a falsehood concocted to unleash disorder on the world. You were seeking nothing but an outing, a break from the monotonous cycle that had exhausted you for quite a long time. You yearned to be on an adventure, to observe the marvels of the ocean, and to gain your financial stability through ethical methods.

You were once the pride of your family, and the thought of how profoundly disappointed they must have felt for your sullied repute overflowed you with mortification.

For a while, everything was as normal as it could be. You worked from one tavern to another, gathering information about the most formidable pirates setting their sights on the Grand Line. You heard several tales from inhabitants and wayfarers, even from the Marines themselves. You were thoroughly pleased with the experience and the wisdom you were acquiring for your own good during your travels.

Unfortunately, things started to deteriorate when your ship developed a massive leak, to the point where you barely managed to reach the next harbor before capsizing and sinking down. The funds available to you weren’t nearly enough to buy a new one, and thus you had to depend on occasional fishermen or merchants for transportation, still paying them handsomely for their help.

On a day when misfortune struck, you were robbed of all your Berries and supplies due to your naivety. You were unable to report the incident to the authorities as the culprits fled as soon as you set foot on land, leaving you without a single coin in your pockets and no food to sustain you during your wanderings. Without money, you could no longer afford passage by ship or meals at local taverns. You were obliged to begin from the outset, tracking down employment opportunities that seemed increasingly difficult to come by.

And then the harassment began, with unscrupulous dealers or pirates demanding a certain type of payment in exchange for their services, which you naturally rejected. As time passed, you had to resort to adopting a defensive stance the hard way, procuring blades and handguns via questionable channels.

You were tired, demoralized, and desperately hungry. Your suffering clouded your judgment, pushing you towards a path you never thought you would accept as your only option.

And then, you had the not-so-brilliant idea of stealing a piece of bread from a market, thinking that just one time wouldn't really be the end of the world. Little did you know, you were about to seal your own fate, as the Marines happened to walk by just as you committed the act, completely unaware of their presence.

You begged for your freedom, spelling out justifications in the hope that they would provide you with the considerate treatment that innocent citizens were supposed to receive. You were gravely mistaken.

The discovery of two sharp daggers and a fully loaded pistol in your backpack certainly did not aid your predicament. Despite numerous attempts to convince them that you were not a pirate, they refused to listen to your reasoning and brought you directly to the Marine base, where a cold cell awaited your arrival.

They left you there without food and barely any water for three days, until the Admiral in charge finally decided to acknowledge your presence. You had hoped that they would recognize their grave misinterpretation and offer you the justice you were due, but you were astonished to find that the conditions of the enstablishment were just as oppressive as the enclosure of your prison.

The commander wished to gain knowledge pertaining to certain fugitive pirates, whose heads were carrying substantial rewards for their crimes against the Government. In view of this, the man put forth an offer that he reckoned would be difficult for you to refuse; join forces with him in return for your liberty.

The hitch was that, besides knowing their names, you were not well-informed concerning these outlaws. The Admiral was convinced that you were withholding more than you wanted to disclose, referring to you as a member of those despicable parasites. The Marines didn’t even put in the effort to corroborate your innocence prior to deeming you officially guilty, using their prestige as a weapon and exerting power over those who were vulnerable.

Ultimately, after realizing you were unwilling to cooperate, the Admiral employed brute force in a bid to extract any secret you were keeping to yourself. In the confines of your cell, you were left to starve and decay as your body continued to weaken. The man would make daily visits, sadistically using his blade to inflict deep wounds on your back, your shirt being ripped in the process. One slit progressed to two, then three, and then ten, until you were unable to keep track of the number. The persistent agony was compounded by the dripping blood, which formed a revolting pool on the floor and stained your uncomfortable bed.

He was a sadist, twisted by madness, using your body as his canvas.

On the brink of abandoning all your hope and acquiescing into rotting in that prison, a guard entered to release you, apprising you that the Admiral had a final proposal ready for you. By then, you had already lost a considerable amount of weight, and you could barely remain standing on your enfeebled legs. The oldest scars on your back itched as they recovered, though the fresh ones were still moist and soaked with blood.

You were forcefully shoved into the office as the guard closed the door behind you, leaving you on your knees, alone with your jailer. Once again, the Admiral attempted to coerce you with promises of salvation, threatening a proper execution the following day if you didn't comply.

It was evident that he had grown tired of toying with you. The Admiral's obsession with pirates seemed to be a severe mental illness, as he saw evil lurking in every corner, when in reality, he was the only monster in front of you.

The moment he turned his back to you and placed his arms across his torso while looking at the window, you became aware of an opening directly upon his desk. There was an empty plate sitting there, with a fork and knife neatly arranged upon it.

A knife, sharp enough to effortlessly cut through a thick steak.

Your heart pounded loudly in your ears as you swallowed hard. Time was of the essence and you needed to act swiftly, without any hesitation whatsoever. Summoning every ounce of energy left in your frail body, you stood up from the polished floor, careful to make minimal noise with your tattered boots. Advancing at a steady pace and with a calculated gait, you went up to the large table, your eyes fixed on the back of the Admiral's head.

Ignoring his eccentric speech, you stealthily grasped the knife by its handle, slowly leading it away from the dish and carefully concealing it inside the sleeve of the meager garment you were still wearing.

You could barely take a couple of steps back before he turned to face you once more, a malicious grin spreading across his lips. He taunted you, expressing his pity for your miserable state and remarking how much fun the two of you could have if only you were smart enough to choose his side.

He walked past the table, extending his big hand to touch your shoulder. You acted on pure instinct as the hunger, resentment, pain, and fear that had consumed you for the longest days of your life surged to the surface all at once. You let the knife slip from your sleeve, tightly gripping it in your hand before delivering a quick and effective stab to his neck, slicing it open.

For a brief moment, you felt nothing. With cold, deadpan eyes, you stared at him as he gurgled and collapsed to the floor. It was only when you saw the blood pouring forth around him that you abruptly snapped back to reality, realizing the gravity of what you had just done.

Panic surged through you when you heard the guard knocking at the door, and from there, everything happened in a blur of rapid movements. As the knob turned, you ran to hide behind the door, seizing the opportunity to slip away when the guard discovered the Admiral's lifeless body in the room. In a rush of agitation, you escaped through the halls and stumbled upon a Marine uniform that was slightly oversized. Fright filled your heart as the shrieking alarm carried on blaring through the base, until at last you managed to end up outside as a disguised cadet.

You discovered an unattended boat moored at the port, which you promptly took control of. Embarking on a journey to an unknown destination, you discarded the stolen uniform in the middle of the ocean, allowing yourself to finally collapse and rest.

The more you pondered on it, the less determined you felt to adhere to the regulations. You believed that the laws and policies of the world were established to serve a better code, but those who worked for the government, meant to become an example to admire and strive to imitate, turned out to be even more despicable than the scum they vilified.

Whenever your scars itched, or someone asked about them to satiate their curiosity, you were reminded of the little trust you could bestow on anyone in your proximity. In the event that even a senior official had the power to pronounce fatal verdicts and physically torment a civilian without carrying out an adequate examination, to whom could you turn for protection?

Ultimately, you realized that the most logical option available for you was to return to your hometown. But then, as you began preparing to leave your life at sea, a wanted poster bearing an image of your disraught face was displayed on the walls.

In that moment, you felt as if you had been shattered into a thousand pieces. You were now persecuted like any other pirate the Marines wanted to capture, and you could no longer travel to your island for the sake of your family and friends. You were alone, lost, on the run from the authorities and bounty hunters.

If they were going to treat you like a pirate, then you would just become one. And so you learned, fought, stole, cheated, and fled, over and over again. As the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, you found yourself living in a way that would prevent you from falling and drowning, training extensively and gaining muscle. You became adept at disguising yourself on the spot, and acquired a set of skills that you never imagined would be fitting for your old, innocent self.

All you could do was endure and survive.

Between your shady deals and overheard conversations, you learned about a certain Warlord of the Sea, and none other than the strongest swordman in the world. A man whom you, with your existing notoriety, should have never dared to cross paths with.

And yet, you did.

Dracule Mihawk, once a dangerous pirate known as the Marine Hunter, had now formed an alliance with the World Government, allowing him to carry out his questionable deeds while putting on a facade of indifference. The first time you laid eyes on him, you were casually strolling down a bustling street. He leaned against a stack of wooden crates, seemingly at ease as he carefully surveyed his surroundings.

You could only identify him based on an outdated, revoked bounty poster that could still be spotted here and there on walls or scattered in the streets. However, at the outset, you didn’t know that he was specifically targeting you of all people.

It became increasingly clear to you that he had been dispatched by the Marines to pursue you relentlessly, as you began to notice his presence wherever you went. You couldn't comprehend how he managed to track your every move, as you were confident that no one was tailing you. Yet, he displayed the stealthiness of a bird of prey, meticulously observing your actions before launching his ultimate assault. You couldn't help but feel intimidated, especially in the presence of his colossal sword and menacing yellow hawk-like eyes, albeit beautiful and captivating.

He didn't even pay you any evident attention until you met his gaze by chance, sparking an electric and unsettling connection between the two of you. Despite his detachment, showing little interest in his surroundings, you couldn't help but notice that the more you tried to hide, the closer he seemed to lurk nearby.

One day, as you hastened your pace, you arrived at a bustling village market, with Mihawk still trailing a few steps behind. You quickly veered towards a clothing stall, feigning fascination in the assortment of hats and dresses on display. The merchant, a friendly middle-aged man with long hair and a sumptuous beard, warmly urged you to explore more of his wares in the privacy of a fitting booth.

In order to alter your appearance, you donned a voluminous, frilly red dress that gracefully swept the floor, effectively hiding your outfit underneath. To further conceal yourself, you completed the look with a matching hat that kept your hair securely tucked away.

As Mihawk strolled by the stall, you caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror before you. Maintaining your composure, you intentionally raised the pitch of your voice, exclaiming with exaggerated enthusiasm about the vibrant colors and exquisite materials of the dresses, even altering your accent.

The merchant's genuine excitement warmed your heart despite your act. After paying for the clothing, you bid the man farewell with a gentle wave and walked in the opposite direction, leaving the stall and stealing a final glance behind.

You caught sight of the Warlord’s sword and the white feather of his hat vanishing amidst the crowd. With a satisfied smile grazing your lips, you turned on your heels and dashed towards the docks where your new boat awaited you.

Just over a month later, you found yourself once again face-to-face with the swordman, this time at a tavern in a different part of the East Blue. Despite his distance from your position at the bar, the frequent glances you exchanged with each other evoked a completely different sensation.

In a peculiar manner, he seemed to be savoring the chase, never resorting to his strength or speed to corner you. Instead, he engaged in a game of hide and seek, seemingly finding amusement in the pursuit.

Naturally, you weren't foolish enough to approach his table and engage in conversation with a man who was likely plotting to hand you over to the authorities. After emptying your glass, you rose from the bar and made your way outside into the open air. Without bothering to check if he was following, you skillfully maneuvered yourself through corners and darted down alleys, searching for the most efficient shortcut you could find. Finally, you arrived at your vessel and embarked on another voyage, mustering the courage to look at the docks as the boat moved further away.

Mihawk stood there, unmoving, his expression void of any emotion, his golden eyes piercing into you without a single blink.

And just as it had happened before, a grin spread across your face. It was a triumphant gesture, a deliberate provocation to show him that you were also thoroughly enjoying the game. Mihawk remained unfazed, turning away and retracing his steps without making any attempt to pursue you by sea.

This pattern continued for quite some time, with more encounters scattered all over the East Blue. Each one of them ended with your successful escape, leaving his intense gaze fixed upon you. At some point, you began to suspect that he was intentionally letting you get away. It seemed unbelievable that a skilled fighter with his reputation would consistently be defeated by a novice like yourself.

While it was initially exhilarating and you liked the thrill of the challenge, in the end, it left you with a profound emptiness in your heart. Dracule Mihawk was undeniably a handsome man, but his attention proved incapable of filling the void that lingered within you. This was primarily due to his unfriendly intentions, as he solely aimed to capture you eventually. The truth was that you deeply missed your family, friends, and the mundane life that you could no longer reclaim. Ever since obtaining that bounty, you had to sever all contact with your loved ones for their safety. The overwhelming sense of loneliness and the feeling of being trapped in an endless cycle weighed heavily on you, leaving an intense craving for a definitive way out that appeared impossible to find at the time.

Your reasoning led you to the conclusion that if Mihawk's true intention was to hand you over to the Marines, he would have to kill you in the process.

While you didn't necessarily desire death to befall you, the life of a pirate had its limitations when it came to joy and fulfillment. It simply wasn't the path meant for you, and you couldn't help but wish you had known what awaited you beyond your familiar surroundings before leaving behind everything and everyone you held dear.

You were utterly exhausted, drained both physically and emotionally. The scars on your back had fully healed and partially faded, but they still left behind a collection of unsightly, rough marks that marred your skin. You were so desperate to avoid setting foot in another Marine base that you would have willingly allowed Mihawk to annihilate you.

And so, the next time you saw him, it was meant to be the very last.

Voices reached your ears, hinting at the existence of a cave brimming with wonders on a small, inhabited piece of land. Given the prevalence of pirates eager to seize anything valuable, you didn't have high expectations for what you might discover. fueled by curiosity and with no pressing obligations, you made the bold choice to embark on this adventure, inspect the cave and fearlessly delve into its depths.

As you had anticipated, there were footprints marking the sandy and muddy terrain within the cave. Empty treasure chests were scattered about, their contents long since plundered. You could only salvage a few scattered pieces of gold and jewelry that had been left behind in various locations.

Though the loot may not have been plentiful, it was still a satisfying outcome after such a long journey. Your focus was captivated by a ring that could have easily been overlooked, partially buried in the sand with only a corner of its metallic surface peeking out. It was a stunning golden band embellished with a raw emerald gemstone, a piece that felt perfectly suited for you and one that you eagerly anticipated wearing once it had been thoroughly cleaned.

Silver chains, leather strings, sparkling gemstones, and ethnic rings. You cherished collecting these pieces from your travels as mementos, a way to etch every experience into your memory, symbolize your personal growth, and serve as a reminder that you were alive and thriving.

With your bag partially filled with your newly discovered treasures, you gracefully emerged from the cave, feeling the gentle breeze caress your hair. Lost in contemplation, you strolled along the shoreline, your eyes set upon your boots as they sank into the sand, making a satisfying sound with each step.

It took a moment for you to realize that you were no longer alone on the island. Someone stood just a few feet away, observing your approaching figure with a composed expression.

As you finally raised your gaze, your heart started pounding, and a sense of unease coiled in your stomach. Standing before you was Dracule Mihawk, his piercing golden eyes locked on you.

Gradually, your movements slowed until you finally came to a halt. Despite the noticeable distance separating the two of you, he made no attempt to close the gap. His stance exhibited no hint of malice; his hands rested calmly at his sides as he observed you, not even reaching for his sword.

The longer you locked eyes with him, the less inclined you felt to leave. With a subtle smile, you displayed unwavering determination and proceeded to walk forward with confidence. Mihawk remained motionless, offering no indication of initiating combat as you drew nearer, leaving his intentions cloaked in enigma.

You walked past him, deliberately avoiding eye contact and redirecting your attention to the path ahead. Your ears remained vigilant, attuned to the surrounding sounds, making sure that he wasn't closely trailing behind you.

However, shattering the silence, his voice suddenly reached your ears, and you heard him speak for the first time since it all began.

"You are quite challenging to track down.”

You stopped abruptly, clutching the bag tightly on your shoulder. Swallowing hard, you fought to suppress the lump that formed in your throat. His voice, like liquid honey, flowed effortlessly, captivating your attention and exuding a calmness that instantly alleviated your nerves.

You took a deep breath, reluctantly acknowledging that the sound of his voice was stirring emotions within you that you weren't ready to confront at this moment.

You turned around, meeting his golden eyes once again. “Not that much for you, apparently,” you retorted, your words laced with a hint of defiance.

For a brief moment, you caught a fleeting glimpse of the corners of his lips twitching, as if hinting at a smile. However, it immediately disappeared, leaving only a trace of its presence.

"Now what?" you asked him. "Are you finally going to capture me and hand me over? If that's the case, then you'll have to kill me. I won't put up any resistance.”

“Is that so?”

No matter how much you strained to interpret his expression, he appeared remarkably disinterested, showing no signs of engagement or emotion.

You shrugged, "We both know that I wouldn't stand a chance against your sword. The bounty poster states 'dead or alive,' and I doubt they would be concerned about the state I'm in as long as I'm eliminated.”

Casting a fleeting glance at the sword at your hip, he emitted a curious hum, tilting his head slightly to the side, almost imperceptibly. Silence settled between the two of you, accompanied only by the gentle rhythm of the waves, creating a soothing melody that enveloped the atmosphere.

You waited patiently, but he made no indication of taking any action against you.

"Well, that was quite the delightful conversation," you remarked sarcastically, pivoting on your heels and resuming your stride.

As your eyes landed on your boat in the distance, you suddenly realized that the urge to hasten your steps had dissipated. The weariness of constantly running away had taken root in you, leaving you with a profound sense of homelessness, unable to find a place where you truly belonged.

To your surprise, you heard him steadily moving behind you, his footsteps synchronizing with your own in a deliberate and unhurried rhythm. You continued along your path, maintaining silence, a part of you anticipating a powerful strike that would bring you down. However, to your relief, the enigmatic man made no attempt to impede you. Not even a hint of hostility could be sensed.

As your nervousness heightened, you made a deliberate choice to pause, silently inviting him to draw nearer. With caution, your hand moved to release the dagger from its secure holster on your belt. A quick glance at the subtle shadows cast on the sand confirmed that he was now mere inches away, in your immediate proximity.

In one seamless motion, you spun around, positioning your blade against his throat without applying any pressure. It served as a warning, your glare speaking volumes without the need for words.

Mihawk remained unaffected, appearing to disregard the presence of the dagger entirely. Frustration surged, causing you to tighten your grip on the hilt of the knife, your eyebrows furrowing in annoyance.

"Are you seriously planning to follow me around without making a move?" you demanded, your voice tinged with exasperation. "How much longer do you think I can endure this game of cat and mouse?"

"You can lower that knife," he replied, his tone filled with discontent. "I have no intention of causing you any harm.”

As you observed him up close for the first time, you couldn't help but feel a slight infatuation with his striking appearance. His eyes held a captivating allure, his face partially shadowed by the wide brim of his hat, and his dark hair cascading in soft curls at the nape of his neck.

In an effort to regain composure, you cautiously withdrew the blade from his throat, though you kept your hand poised and prepared.

"Didn't the Marines send you after me?" you asked.

"Oh, they certainly did."

"And you're not going to obey the orders?"

Mihawk let out a quiet scoff, looking away from you and briefly gazing upward. "I don't take orders," he stated firmly.

You instinctively took a step back, regarding him with suspicion as your eyes carefully scanned him from head to toe. "They say that the Warlords of the Sea are nothing more than lapdogs of the Government.”

His golden irises locked onto you once more, seemingly a threatening gesture. However, undeterred, you pressed on. "Enlighten me, then. What should I believe? What other purpose could you possibly have in relation to me?”

You allowed your hand to fall to your side, although with a tight grip on the hilt of the dagger. Mihawk contemplated his response, ultimately giving you the most nonchalant look imaginable.

“I’m just killing some time.”

You took a moment to process what he had told you. "I'm sorry, what?" you responded, seeking clarification.

"Although I do find you intriguing,” he added.

You were left speechless, your mouth hanging open. "You don't even know me," you replied with incredulity.

"I’ve seen enough. And I am aware of your reputation.”

Crossing your arms, you took care not to accidentally cut the leather sleeve of your jacket in the process. "What's so intriguing about my reputation?”

Mihawk pressed his lips together before responding, "A woman escaping a base full of Marines, completely unarmed? That's not something you hear every day.”

You rolled your eyes. "Don't tell me you're one of those sexist bastards who think women can't handle themselves.”

"Quite the contrary. Not even most men would be able to escape that situation unscathed.”

You stood there, a smug grin adorning your face as you watched him. It would be a lie to say that it didn't give your ego a significant boost.

But deep down, the memories of those days still twisted your insides. "Who said I came out unscathed?" you retorted. "And this doesn't explain much either. You said you have no intention of handing me over, so what's your motive, Warlord?”

"Perhaps I wanted to personally verify your worth.”

Unable to contain yourself, you let out a soft chuckle, shaking your head in amusement. "In other words, you were bored.”

"I can become quite laidback when I don't have anything interesting to occupy my time," he said casually.

A part of you found him entertaining, but at the same time, his way of speaking to you continued to irritate you. "Well, at least you can afford to be laidback now that your bounty has been cancelled.”

Your retort was filled with venom and resentment, yet once again, Mihawk appeared unfazed by it. "With or without a bounty, I wouldn't do anything differently.”

You started to question the authenticity of the rumors surrounding this man, considering how different he was from your initial expectations. The fact that he hadn't made any aggressive moves towards you made you wonder if there was more to him than met the eye.

Evidently, his immunity with the Government held little importance to him. He exhibited a keenness to discover something, anything, that could captivate his time and attention, disregarding any orders he may have received. He pursued his own interests, driven by personal motivations above all else.

"That's a shame," you murmured. "I'm afraid I'm not as interesting as you may have assumed. The only thing I excel at is disguising myself.”

"You are underestimating yourself.”

"How so?”

"You mercilessly killed a Marine Admiral. You managed to evade all pirate hunters who pursued you and successfully escaped from me multiple times.”

"All I did was survive.”

"And you have been successful in that, so far.”

A heavy sigh escaped your lips as a gust of wind swept through your hair. "Do you know what it's like? To be separated from your family, unable to even reach out to them because you're constantly being chased wherever you go?”

Mihawk remained silent, attentively observing your reaction.

And then, he spoke. "Such are the perils of a life on the open seas, I'm afraid.”

"I made one mistake, and I've been punished in the harshest way possible. How is that fair? They left me with no other choice. I had to do what I did.”

"You don't need to justify yourself to me," he replied calmly, his tone devoid of judgment.

"You say that, yet here you stand. No offense, but why should I place my trust in you?”

As your heart raced in your chest, its strong beats reverberating through your body, you took deep breaths in an attempt to calm yourself down. Meanwhile, Mihawk remained as calm and serene as ever.

"Do as you wish," he said with a casual shrug. "But I must say, you are quite unrefined. Your movements are predictable, and unless you learn to control them, you won't last much longer.”

You raised an eyebrow at his statement, letting out a laugh that was a mix of amusement and surprise. It seemed like a blend of criticism and advice, leaving you intrigued by his words.

"What's this? Now you suddenly want to offer me your help?" you questioned skeptically. "I never asked for your guidance. Whether I live or die is my own concern," you declared firmly.

Mihawk's eyes narrowed, his gaze intensifying as if he were scrutinizing you closely, studying every detail.

"Unless," you continued, leaning forward and bringing your face dangerously close to his, exuding confidence, almost brushing his lips with yours. "-you want to be the one to push me to my limits," you added, your words carrying a daring challenge.

His typically stoic expression, always composed and unwavering, appeared to subtly shift in response to your audacious gesture. You could catch a whiff of his captivating scent, a blend of cologne, sea salt, and earth, filling your senses.

You had to quickly pull away from his taller figure, concealing the faint blush that was starting to creep onto your cheeks.

"What's the final verdict, Warlord?" you taunted. "After all, you were given explicit orders to capture me.”

Your blade made contact with the golden cross he wore around his neck and pressed against his chest, the sound of metal against metal resonating in the air. The open coat he wore left little to the imagination, revealing that he had indeed chosen not to wear a shirt underneath.

You returned to your serious and sincere demeanor, looking up to meet his hawk-like eyes once more. Your stern and courageous facade was starting to waver, but you were determined not to let a stranger see your vulnerability, especially when your life was on the line and his intentions remained uncertain.

You chuckled with amusement as you securely placed the knife back into its holster. What am I supposed to do?" you pondered aloud, more to yourself than to him.

“Grow strong and keep fighting,” he declared. "If you don’t wish to die sooner rather than later. Certainly, it won't be by my hand.”

His words left you speechless, leaving you without a proper answer as he walked past you, now the one departing. You turned around, staring at the intricate details and embroideries adorning his coat. With each step he took, his sword lightly swayed on his back, creating a graceful and mesmerizing motion.

"They won't be pleased with that," you raised your voice, ensuring that he could hear you. This prompted him to pause and briefly turn his head, acknowledging your words.

"They never are," he replied with a tone of resignation before resuming his journey, leaving you behind.

A smile of relief and respect formed on your lips as you reflected on the man who had relentlessly chased you, only to ultimately allow you to go free. Somehow, he perceived something valuable and worthy in you that led him to defy the orders of the Marines, opting for a confrontation that didn't resort to physical violence.

As he became a tiny speck in the distance, you readjusted the bag on your shoulders and set off towards your own ship. A newfound sense of confidence coursed through your veins like never before, propelling you forward into the unknown.

Yes, you had firmly believed that seeing him at that moment would undoubtedly be the ultimate encounter.

Except that it wasn’t.

Go to Chapter 2 ->

[ninelivesastrology]

SATURN & MARS: The Astrology of Horror

Scream (1996), directed by Wes Craven

The horror genre is my favorite genre in media and within it are some of the best and honestly, extreme examples of the significations of Saturn, the Greater Malefic and Mars, the Lesser Malefic.

Saturn is the Greater Malefic, its nature is cold and dry. It joys in the 12th House. Saturn is the signifier of darkness and dark places, enclosed spaces, restriction, control, secrecy, isolation, illness and death, taboo...

Mars is the Lesser Malefic, it's nature being hot and dry. It joys in the 6th House, a cadent house. It rules aggression, fighting, conflict, injuries, blood, deception, lying, weapons but especially sharp objects...

Starting off with the Slasher who walked while everyone else ran, I'll start with Halloween (1978).

Michael Myers moves slow, a Saturnian signification, but he gets things done. Michael spends a lot of this movie stalking Laurie, a 12th House signification.

Halloween (1978), directed by John Carpenter

I also find that very act of masking to be Saturnian in nature because of Saturn's signification of secrecy and mystery, which is given to the 12th House.

Moving onto my favorite Slasher.

Scream is the ultimate Martian movie to me. The Scream franchise itself is a masterclass in homage to so many horror films before it, but also in the concept of betrayal, something Mars rules. Its tagline is, "It's always someone you know." And in the history of this franchise, the audience had so much anticipation in finding out who Ghostface was in each entry, a true Saturn-Mars mix of mystery and bloodshed.

Scream (2022), directed by Matt Bettinelli-Olpin and Tyler Gillett

Ghostface, like many other Slashers, wields a knife, but isn't exempt to using other weapons, such as guns. Mars rules all weapons.

One of my favorite creature features is Alien (1979). I have not seen Romulus! The tagline, "In space, no one can hear you scream."

One of the lesser known significations of the 12th House is travel, so get this, you're on a ship, isolated from everyone, in the middle of deep space while you and your crew members are being hunted by a large creature. Usually, the 12th House rules large animals and I would like to gently debate that the 12th House rules large, foreign creatures as well.

The Xenomorph is the ultimate monster, Saturnian by its appearance: Black. In addition, the 12th House is before birth and I find it funny how the Xenomorph impregnates it's prey, only for it to burst out in the most Martian way.

Alien (1979), directed by Ridley Scott

Found footage itself is especially Saturnian, since the 12th House rules missing people. I would go even farther to say that the 12th House rules the unseen. So the Paranormal is especially Saturnian in nature, given its cold and dry nature. Saturn is the absence of life and what persists beyond it.

The Blair Witch Project (1999), directed by Daniel Myrick and Eduardo Sánchez

Onto another subgenre, one of my favorites, pestilence and death.

Saturn rules death and Mars signifies pestilence and the survival of said pestilence. Most famously, two of my favorite survival horror franchises are Resident Evil and The Last of Us. Resident Evil's entire premise of infection is centered around bioterrorism, starting with the corrupt Saturnian company named Umbrella.

Resident Evil is infamous for its body horror. In this instance, Mars rules body horror due to the painful injuries sustained from the transformation.

Resident Evil 4 Remake (2023)

In The Last of Us, we follow a man who survived the Outbreak, Joel Miller and a young girl named Ellie Williams who survived being bitten and is found to be immune. I find immunity to be Saturnian because your body is suppressing or resisting the infection. The infection itself is Martian as the 6th House rules illnesses.

The Last of Us Part I (2022)

The Cordyceps virus is very Saturn-Mars, given that the fungus attaches itself to the brain and controls it, causing the Infected to sustain its survival aggressively.

The Last of Us Part II (2020)

Survival itself is Martian in nature. Scarcity, a notable Saturnian feature of the Last of Us' intense and highest difficulty, GROUNDED, makes this a unique entry into the survival horror genre across all media. If you know, you know, the Last of Us has a theme of betrayal running through it and with that betrayal eventually comes consequences. Saturn and Mars.

I wanna talk about the Final Girls for a second. We love them. We root for them. We are them. I consider Final Girls to be obviously Venusian, given that the two domiciles of Venus, Taurus and Libra, are the detriment of Mars. Venus finds herself in trouble in the signs Mars rules, Scorpio and Aries.

In traditional astrology, detriment is considered to be the toughest placement for a planet considering it is the opposite of its home, facing conditions it is not equipped for. Certainly, the worst place and the worst time which is a Final Girl thing. Despite this, they still persevere.

Jennifer's Body (2009), directed by Karyn Kusama

If you loved this post and would like to support me as I am a Saturn Return Mommy, you can reblog this post and/or send me a tip on CashApp or purchase a $20 horary reading if you want to know about your life, click this for more details!

Happy Halloween and be safe!

Oh and what's your favorite scary movie? *wink wink*

—Nine

[formulaorange]

2023 Fall Anime

This is honestly a loaded season full of new shows based on relatively new manga. Lots to look forward to

Spy x Family - Season 2 One of the most fun SJ series that have come out in a while. Season 1 was killer, high hopes for season 2.

Goblin Slayer 2 I didn't realize they were even making a second season. This was such a killer series. I'm really hoping they don't fall into the many mid-tier fantasy tropes out there in anime right now. I thought the appeal of the show was really Goblin Slayer himself and less about the lackeys along the way. So we'll see how it goes.

Frieren: Beyond Journey's End This is definitely one of my highly anticipated series. It's about an elf who was part of the Hero's party and her life after he dies. (Since elves live longer) Definitely a darker take on fantasy but has some really solid fantasy and adventure vibes.

Rising of the Shield Hero - Season 3 Season 2 was pretty disappointing and slow. While this looks like it'll be more fast paced, it does look like a tournament arc of sorts. I know some aren't a fan of that kind of arc, but honestly I think it's exactly what this series needs to pick things up again. We'll see.

The Faraway Paladin - Season 2 This was legitimately one of my favourite fantasy series. I thought it was really well written and didn't rush things like other series. I'm looking forward to this season.

Sequels/Continuations: Eminence in Shadow - Season 2 killer series with an anti-hero main character. Definitely worth checking out. After-School Hanako-Kun Hanako-kun spin off Dr. Stone Season 3 - Part 2 One of the best novel concept series with nothing else in it's genre to compare to. Definitely didn't drop the ball on the recent seasons and still worth watching. Dead Mount Death Play - Part 2 One that I didn't particularly enjoy, but has a decent sized manga following. Tokyo Revengers - Tenjiku Arc The continuation of the series. Might be just me but it feels like the series fell off after the first season. The Saint's Magic Power is Omnipotent - Season 2 A more mature take on fantasy isekai that just started to get into romance at the end of last season. A solid combo of shoujo genres. The Ancient Magus' Bride - Season 2 Part 2 One that I haven't had a change to check out yet but have only heard good things about. Hypnosismic - Season 2 a weirdly addictive musical/rap series. Unique characters and honestly solid rap battles. One I'll be enjoying. -- Related - Paradox Live - Music battle with what looks to be the same style of animation and solid character design. Definitely worth looking at if you're a fan of Hypmic. The Seven Deadly Sins: Four Knights of the Apocalypse A sequel of SDS. Looks like it could be a fun watch for the fans of the series. New:

Shangri La Frontier A new manga fantasy series. This may be a horrible way to describe but it is what it is - a new age SAO- full dive fantasy game. A gamer who only plays shit games, gets into a new massively popular MMORPG and is op. One that I'm excited for because it ticks all the fantasy game boxes I like.

Undead Unluck A relatively new manga series that gained a lot of traction in the last year or two. A gory action comedy that's super chaotic and a lot of fun.

Shy Brand new hero manga series about a shy girl and her anxieties and struggles going into the hero world who grows and gains confidence as she becomes a better hero.

Ron Kamonohashi's Forbidden Deductions This is a manga series that I have kept forgetting the name of so never got a chance to read but all the covers for the manga look phenomenal. Likely the anime doesn't do him justice but it is what it is. Essentially sherlock in anime form. A PI with issues and the wholesome police detective work together to solve crime. Other New Series: Green - Fantasy Pink - Romance Red - Action Purple - Drama The Kingdoms of Ruins A world where witches were hunted down by humans as science surpassed magic. A kid who was raised by a witch swears revenge on mankind. This honestly looks solid. The animations are very cool looking and the mc seems to be an anti-hero. Will be looking at this one. Under Ninja A well known manga series about modern ninjas. Definitely a unique series for this season. The Apothecary Diaries A historical medical mystery show. I've heard the name before and I've also only heard good things. Will be worth a watch. A Girl & Her Guard Dog The granddaughter of a crime syndicate goes to highschool out of town and the current young boss lies his way into the same school. Would be cute romance if it weren't for the fact she's 15 and he's 26.. Butareba - The Story of a Man Turned into a Pig What the title says. A girl finds him and the story goes from there. I'm Giving the Disgraced Noble Lady I Rescued a Crash Course in Naughtiness The usual light novel title. Honestly, doesn't seem as yikes as I initially thought, might just be harmless breaking the rules kinda thing. Could be fun, also a Capybara that strikes fear into people's hearts. My Daughter Left the Nest and Returned an S-Rank Adventurer Looks like a wholesome series where an adventurer finds a baby, raises it and she becomes so strong she's busy working all the time. Just a cute father daughter relationship in a fantasy setting about her wanting to come take time to see him but being caught up in OP fantasy battles. Ragna Crimson Dragons vs Humanity - a human and a dragon team up to destroy all the dragons. Action fantasy series. Berserk of Gluttony I honestly added this because I thought it was hilarious. Looks like a combo of knock offs - the Gluttony skill from Tensura (reincarnated as a slime) and the mc being called Fate with the main girl who looks exactly like Sabre. I'll be skipping but its' here so you know.

[raymantogether]

Rayman Together Community Spotlight #1 - Rayman Collectibles & Merchandise

This exciting new series hopes to introduce you to Rayman Fans across the World on a more personal level and make you the reader feel more connected to the community. I look forward in the months ahead to showing you the many faces of the Rayman community and some of the exciting projects and accounts they are working behind. If you are interested in becoming a part of the Rayman Together Community Spotlight in the future please feel free to reach out through Twitter. 

Rayman was published by French video game publisher Ubisoft in 1995. Since Rayman debuted on PlayStation and Sega Saturn, the series flourished after receiving outstanding reviews from critics and multiple publications. Rayman went onto spanning decades of videogame releases. Rayman was a Ubisoft Mascot until later years, when its various franchises such as Assassin's Creed, Far Cry, Tom Clancy, and the Rabbids stole the spotlight.

After almost a decade, Rayman has slowly begun to creep back into the spotlight thanks to his return in Rayman in the Phantom Show. Ubisoft has begun to drip feed the loyal and patient Rayman community with various releases with collaborations from its multiple partners, such as Flyos, YouTooz, and Netflix. Rayman has made a major appearance in the Ubisoft Netflix series Captain Laser Hawk: A Blood Dragon Remix, Flyos is publishing the eagerly anticipated Rayman: The Board Game, and Youtooz has created Rayman figures and pin sets. YouTooz are even working on more figures, including an upcoming plush toy, collaborating with someone within the Rayman community. 

Although it may seem Ubisoft never supported the franchise outside of digital releases until now, a lot of you may be unaware that during the "Golden Era" of Rayman, Ubisoft released often rather obscure and bizarre merchandise that was exclusive in Europe or often released without public knowledge. 

I recently discovered the TikTok page RaymanCollectibles&Merch, which is managed by the extremely passionate Rayman fan Natasha Quinn from the United Kingdom. Natasha has collected various collectibles and merchandise throughout Rayman's history. I am delighted today to take an opportunity to showcase the Rayman Collectibles & Merchandise account as part of the very first Rayman Together Community Spotlight.

Please Introduce Yourself: "Hi I'm Natasha Quinn I live in Hertfordshire Stevenage in the United Kingdom."

Tell us something fun or interesting about yourself? "I have been collecting Rayman merch since 2016 but sadly lost most of it due to moving so restarting again in April 2023 where i have acquired a lot more then my childhood collection."

What do you enjoy doing in your spare time? "I have two small dogs called dexter and Bailey which compete in fun dog shows. I also love to spend time drawing and making crafts in my spare time."

4. What are three things that make you smile? "The three things that make me smile are anything animal-related, cute videos, etc. I'm a huge animal lover. 2 Rayman (of course) 3 playing retro games from my childhood, reliving the memories mostly the PS1, PS2, and Game Boy handhold"

5. How did you get into the Rayman series? "I first got into Rayman when my dad got me an atomic purple GBC, which he called the game Rayman to go aside. I fell in love with the adventure and the colorful levels as well as the character Rayman himself, which I thought the fist throwing was a cool design! I remember getting excited about completing a level I would show my dad."

6. What is your favorite Rayman game and who is your favorite Rayman character? "Choosing a favorite Rayman game is hard, but I would have to say for memories and nostalgia alone, it would be the GBC version, although I realize it isn't a popular opinion, but closely following would be Rayman 2 & 3, as they are great games too! My favorite Rayman character is Rayman himself or Ly the fairy."

7. What is your favorite piece of Rayman merchandise you own, and why? "I think my favorite piece I own the last plush. I was lucky and won it in an auction, and weirdly enough, the smaller version went up for sale the same week, so I was lucky to own the pair!"

8. What is the rarest piece of Rayman merchandise you own? "The rarest piece I own is the Rayman Grimace mushroom figure given to staff members working on the Rayman 3 game, and only 100 were made. It's a beautiful statue, and I had to get it shipped from another country. I feel very lucky to have one."

9. Is there something in your Rayman collection that you don’t own? "I would love to own the 25th anniversary coin. I have been searching each day, and I still have hope."

Thank you, Natasha, for participating in the very first Rayman Together community spotlight. It has been a pleasure getting to know you. I am a huge fan of your account. I look forward in the future to seeing what else you can collect. Hopefully, in the future, Ubisoft will help you get a Rayman 25th Anniversary Medallion. Who knows, maybe next year there will be a 30th Anniversary Medallion. If you enjoyed this spotlight and would like to follow and support Rayman Collectibles & merchandise, I have included links to her social media platform below. 

Thank you for reading everyone and I look forward to seeing you in future Rayman Together Community Spotlights.

[anime-grimmy-art]

It’s this time of the year again, folks. Time to wrap up the art Ive made in the last 12 months in another Year in Review! I’ve noticed that this is my fifth Year in Review in a row, so I’ll be making an extra post looking back on the progress in those last 5 years!

I've got a lot to say about this year, but purely art wise, I've gone all when it comes to comics, damn! I've kinda found a format that is messy, and therefore more time efficient, yet still looks good. I even made 2 animatics and lotsa shorts/reels! All that on top of opening coms twice, and, oh yeah, MAKING A WHOLE ASS 4MIN ANIMATION ON MY OWN.

How is my hand still alive.

2023 has been….interesting, to say the least. The first half year I was working on my thesis project, aka making an animated short all on my own (in the art department), which makes it honestly surprising how much I managed to churn out between animating. Trigun rly did have me in a choke hold.

Summer was a bit more spotty, esp. with me not being able to draw anything during August as I was writing my thesis (and doing commissions). And towards the end of the year, Kingdom Hearts tried to save me, but alas, Genshin Impact has finally sunk its teeth into me and dragged me to the bottom of the rabbit hole. It all started with me watching a story summary and lore videos while I was sick after my thesis and I was too intrigued to not dig deeper and well, first I fell in love with Kaeya and then the ships started dropping in left and right.

I’m not gonna lie, the last few months have been weird. I finished my masters in October, and have been on job hunt since, sadly without success so far. I’m existing in this weird limbo of still not grasping I’m not a student anymore after 18 years in education, not really being able to accept I’m an adult, yet desperately trying to find something so I can make a routine, cos rn Im too scared to build a rhythm as I know I’ll have a so much harder time readjusting again. It’s left me in a weird emotional state, where most of the time I feel fine, but when it counts, there’s just, nothing. No joy at getting my diploma, no anticipation to finally go to a convention again, neither any sadness hearing my grandfather died. It frustrates me that it extends to my art as well, there’s excitement over ideas and concepts, but no motivation to pick up the pencil, which makes me either not finish art at all or making so many shortcuts and just ending up with sth not satisfactory to me since it’s not the idea I sought after.

Tho, not everything is doom and gloom. I DID finish a whole ass short animation and got my masters degree, that IS sth to be proud of. Also, while Im struggling at drawing, I’ve also kinda started integrating my shortcuts into my style and some stuff I’ve thrown together actually turns out real good nowadays. Also, and this might be a bit of a weird one, I’m so fucking happy to know I can still enjoy gay ships. I’ve been a bit uncertain over the last few years because when I was around 16-18, I had a real big yaoi phase, which mostly came from the fact so much stuff came out that tickled my brain in the right way (Free, Haikyuu, etc.). But over the years, my enthusiasm died down, and I even started to resent some ships because it’s all some fandoms produced. I often found myself liking a hetero ship more than the popular gay ship, which really made me not wanna stick around because I did not care for most fanart and you can only go through a tag with art you don’t care about so long before you lose interest. I think in retrospect that it rly had nothing to do with the ships being gay ships but rather cos the fans just shoved it in your face when you didn’t care (and shipping culture nowadays also can get real scary). But I’m so happy to see I can still get obsessed with a ship and it’s all thanks to Haikaveh/Kavetham. It really just needed the right flavour for me to dig in again. And oh my god, I FINALLY like a ship with a SHIT TON of art and fanfictions, no more scrounging the crumbs from the bottom of the barrel. 

Anyways, enough lamenting. Here’s to hoping I can bite my tongue and get shit started properly in 2024, and that my brainrots may make me obsessed enough to churn out an obscene amount of fanart again.

[apparently-artless]

⛧┈♛ MY MOST ANTICIPATED SPRING ANIME [2023] ♛┈⛧

MASHLE: MAGIC AND MUSCLES KIMETSU NO YAIBA: KATANAKAJI NO SATO-HEN DR. STONE: NEW WORLD OUSAMA RANKING: YUUKI NO TAKARABAKO JIGOKURAKU

[carlos-in-glasses]

2023 Writing Round Up

Thank you for the tag @heartstringsduet @reasonandfaithinharmony @jesuisici33 @chicgeekgirl89 @thisbuildinghasfeelings @theghostofashton @orchidscript @welcometololaland @ladytessa74 @strandnreyes @reyesstrand @alrightbuckaroo

Rules: Share what you wrote this year! It can be works you posted to Ao3, Wattpad, Tumblr, or anywhere else! You can share everything you wrote or just the ones you're most excited about.

15 fics this year! I have loved writing and sharing every one of them. Thank you to everyone who has read or will at some point. Work is a lot busier these days, so I don’t anticipate writing the same volume in 2024…but we shall see! I just want whatever I share to be good quality, and it’s my New Year’s resolution to keep improving. I love Tarlos. I love writing Tarlos fic. I love this fandom.

January

The Ruins of Wonderland – a reimagining of TK and Carlos getting back together after their breakup. I posted this on New Year’s Day, resolving to start 2023 off on the right fanfic foot.

Chasers – A coda for 3x13. TK talks to Cooper about his past, while Carlos goes for a swim and thinks about his own. When Carlos gets home, he and TK have an important chat. The rection to this fic spurred me on to continue writing in the flashback/vignette/timeline format.

February

Man to Man – A coda for 2x11 and 2x12, which also looks at Carlos coming out to his parents and where he is now with it all.

March

Afterglow of a Supernova – When fiancés TK and Carlos help Carlos’ high school crush and his wife during a call, they end up having a dinner with them that leads to jealousy in an unexpected way. The feedback I’ve had on this fic sent me to the moon on rainbows.

April

The Heart Behind the Shield – My first chaptered fic! I'd been wanting to write a 2x08 coda, but it was 4x04 that made it possible. This combines events from both episodes where there’s duality, and was an absolute blast to write and post.

The Light of Our Life – Listen, I wrote this during an extended lunch break and posted it the same day. For somehow it’s my fifth most kudos’d fic of the year…Thank you!!! We were all deep in our Lou II feelings at this time. Never forget.

Fire Island – TK and Carlos travel to Fire Island, where an older gay couple talks to them about their experience of the AIDS crisis in 1980s New York. This fic by far had the most emotional impact on me while writing it, and based on feedback it seems to be the same for readers(?) People have shared personal stories and memories with me since I posted this, and I just want to say I’m truly grateful for the response, given I wrote it in January but didn’t feel brave enough to post it for a few months.

May

With Infinity Folded Into It – Written for the @tarlosweeklyprompts Countdown to the Wedding event (prompt was: Love). After TK proposes, Carlos remembers the first time they said “I love you.” It’s fluff, it’s smut, it’s kinda angsty because Carlos is trying to bake and baking is stressful.

The Center of the Maze – Another written for Tarlos Weekly Prompts Countdown to the Wedding. (Prompt: "I Never Thought I Would Get This Day".) I thought this was going to be a 2k one-shot; it turned into 20k split into 4 chapters… Seven times they thought they would never get married, and one time when they actually did. I was super inspired and happy with the writing in this one.

June into July

When Soulmates Swim – The closest I’ll ever come to writing a sports AU (….or is it?👀…) Sparks and splashes fly when TK and Carlos each take up swimming while they recover from workplace injuries. I really pushed myself with smut and humour in this fic and the feedback I’ve had has been incredible. One of the most enjoyable writing experiences I’ve ever had, this fic holds a special place in heart.

Release The Hand to Relax the Animal – TK and Carlos explore the world of tantric massage in their own way. Written because Rafael Silva has madly attractive hands, and @heartstringsduet and I thought we should celebrate. You can read Michelle’s hands fic, Take My Hand, Take My Whole Life, Too, here. It is BEAUTIFUL.

(Nothing in August)

September

Sweet Dreams and Flying Machines – A 3x08 coda, which also gets into TK and Carlos’ childhood memories of 9/11, and the way that event went on to impact their lives (to the point where it set them on the path to meeting each other). It recieved the most amazing comments, with people sharing their memories of 9/11, so like Fire Island this fic feels deeper to me in a social way.

October

Suddenly in the Silence – I’d ‘joked’ about the show giving us Ghost Gabriel in season 5, but a conversation with thisbuildinghasfeelings led me to explore that concept myself. In this fic, it’s up to the reader to decide whether they think the spirit of Gabriel is around, which made writing it challenging but a lot of fun. It’s so interesting to see what side people fall on!

November

Where All This Love Comes From – This is my Tarlos novel at ~90k words, due to finish posting in February. I began writing it in March, when a hefty amount of plot relied on Gabriel being alive after season 4. Substantial rewrites happened after May, which was pretty gutting at the time, but ultimately I think this has ended up being the best thing I’ve written so far in my life.

December

There is a smutty one-shot coming with a scream very soon…And I hope you like it!

I'm not sure who has already done this - tagging with no pressure if you want to share/haven't already - and open tag!

@cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @goodways @lemonlyman-dotcom @paperstorm @wandering-night19 @heartstringsduet @im-overstimulated-and-im-sad @rmd-writes @rosedavid @chaotictarlos @lightningboltreader @taralaurel @three-drink-amy @redshirt2 @noxsoulmate @sanjuwrites @bonheur-cafe @liminalmemories21

❤️🩷🧡💛❤️🩷🧡💛

[gizkasparadise]

2023 wrapped: cdrama edition!

taking a page from @dangermousie and doing an overview of all the cdramas i watched this year (i'll do one for kdramas later)! listed in order of least favorite to most favorite. favorite =/= objectively best/most well-made. just the ones i had the most fun watching.

15 have a crush on you. oh dear lord. this drama should be a case study for what happens when a bad drama has charismatic actors and they keep you trapped hostage. i watched this whole damn thing hating every minute of it on behalf of the poor female lead who definitely deserved better. the ending? absolutely batshit, and not in a fun way. one of the weirdest, worst endings ive seen since with you

14 back from the brink. too kitschy for me, i didn't last long on this one (i think 2 eps lol).

13 gone with the rain. i wanted to like this one because i love sean sun and troll general is exactly what i want out of life. but i didn't like the weird daydream asides, constant animal noise sound effects, and i found everyone kind of off-putting in a non-watchable way, so i peaced out really quick--ep 4ish

12 here we meet again. i love janice wu. i continue to try out her dramas hoping for something to grab me again. this one was pretty boring/too focused on the work element and not the rest of it.

11 exclusive fairytale. i have a secret weakness for youth-to-working-life dramas, so tried this one out. flat, not a lot of chemistry, and very color-by-numbers. the show was clearly made to vehicle jun, and that's okay, but not my thing

10 the starry love. i wanted to like this one because the side characters were fun and i loved the male lead/prince of heaven and all his awkward "please leave by 9" energy. but it bored me overall and unlike most folks i had no interest in the demon secondary ship. i dropped around ep 10

9 my journey to you. it kills me to rank this one so low because it was my most anticipated cdrama this year, but i just couldn't get into it. the pacing was too slow for me, and i couldn't stand how everyone talked to each other (long. pauses. and then. staring. and then. whispers. always the. whispers). i dropped this around midway

8 the love you give me. the chemistry between the leads was cute and it was a decent modern romance. started losing me around the midpoint when the paternity reveal hit and the ML got way into boundary crossing because of it

7 circle of love. objectively not a good drama. in fact, a toxic and batshit drama that has probably made me a worse person for watching it. but gd did my messy ass enjoy the trainwreck.

6 road home. you really got to be in the mood for this one, but it's a nice, understated and slow melo romance. but def not a bingeable show since it takes its time with everything

5 wonderland of love. another drama that i dont think is objectively great, but two competent schemers/martial artists trying to one-up each other is like ship catnip for me and this was a show that lived or died by its ship. surprisingly tame for the screenwriter, and had a happy ending! popcorn watch.

4 till the end of the moon. me and this drama were in a bad romance, which i suppose is thematically appropriate. i hated parts of it, i was super invested in others. the post-dream human arc was giving wuthering heights tragic obsession incredibleness. even with its flaws, i think most of cdramaland is in agreement that lyx/tantai jin stole the ML competition this year. great gowns, beautiful gowns

3 story of kunning palace. i adored the characters in this drama! even when the plot was losing my interest, everyone was cast so well and had so much charisma that i stayed pretty hooked from ep 10ish on. absolutely loved the mean high school theatre director wreck that was xie wei, as well as the other (imo) true love interest of the show, princess leyang. the desperate speech about being like iron is gonna live rent-free in my head

& then 1&2 are way ahead of the others for me this year/a very close race between them!

2 a journey to love. i love this drama so much!!! i have not skipped or speed watched a single scene which for me is a huge feat! great character work across the board -- even the side characters have a lot of nuance and interesting dynamics between them. beautiful fight scenes. great ost. one of the best, most balanced main couples ive seen in a show. it's gonna break my heart in a few eps when it ends, but i'll be happy about it

1 lost you forever (s1). this drama came out of NOWHERE and the vicegrip it had on me while it was airing!!! my favorite FL this year (although a journey to love's ruyi is a close second), and just a ton of fun while also being quietly devastating in parts. i loved how lived in and tired the FL felt, enjoyed the various flavors of mess from her love interests, and enjoyed how extra it could go while still giving us really grounded and complicated characters. this drama gets extra points for converting me on several actors i did not think that highly of before the show.

overall, despite how many i dropped (lol writing it out made me realize i dropped so, so many), cdramas delivered for me this year! my top two are on my short list for favorite dramas, period. everyone go watch a journey to love and lost you forever if you havent yet!!!

AWARDS

Favorite ship: definitely goes to ruyi and yuanzhou from a journey to love. it's just nice to see a couple that mutually supports each other's murders

Favorite FL: xiaoyao from lost you forever with ruyi from journey to love as a very close runner-up. i am here for this year's theme of competent, jaded ladies trying to reclaim their lives

Favorite ML: objectively, tantai jin from till the end of the moon should win this, but story of kunning palace's xie wei was just so entertainingly grumpy, petty, and unhinged which is a winning combo for me.

Favorite 2FL: princess yang ying from a journey to love. she's doing amazing and im proud of her!!

Favorite 2ML: technically third male lead, but xiang liu from lost you forever was my favorite to watch and had the best tuxedo mask exits

Best Cast: a journey to love, i literally adore all of them, even the ones i hate

Best Blood Cough: tantai jin, you beautiful bastard who needs a bib

[artfightdramaconfessions]

I just went through and watches the old theme reveal animations for fun, so here's my useless little opinions on all of them, lol.

2018 - 5/10 Starts out with a long black screen for some reason. I wouldn't really call this an animation. It's just a slideshow of some art. Cute to see where things kind of began with these.

2019 - 10/10 The best quality as far as animation & art go. Very nice little intro screen with a wonderful transition to the animation. The correlation to the theme was a little more subtle than the ones going forward, but I kind of like that.

2020 - 6/10 This one has an odd paper-cutout style that I don't really enjoy looking at. It feels very rushed, especially compared to 2019. The backgrounds also have a clear drop in quality. Similar loose theming to 2019.

2021 - 3/10 This one throbs. I don't like that it throbs. Weird harsh lighting. Very heavy theming. Backgrounds have a further drop in quality.

2022 - 5/10 THIS ONE THROBS TOO but the animation quality is back up a bit. Still some weird lighting and minimal attention to detail with backgrounds, and the whole thing is only like 38 seconds worth of animation.

2023 - 7/10 IT'S STILL THROBBING!! Animation quality is fine. Theming is heavier than it has ever been. There are only about 30 seconds of animation this time.

This year, I anticipate 20-25 seconds of the most throbbing animation possible. Godspeed, Axel.

.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Noah Berlatsky at Public Notice:

Donald Trump has repeatedly promised that if he returns to the White House, he will deport every undocumented person in the US. Most experts say that would be 11 million people, but Trump has insisted that the number is closed to 18 million or even 30 million. Trump’s provided few details about how he would go about accomplishing such a massive forced relocation program, though he’s suggested he would deputize local police, call in the National Guard, and perhaps use the military. He’s also said, with some relish, that “getting them out will be a bloody story.” This past weekend, Trump turned his violent and dehumanizing rhetoric up to 11, proclaiming during an event in Prairie du Chien, Wisconsin, that migrants “will walk into your kitchen, they’ll cut your throat.”

“These people are animals,” Trump said, vowing that "I will liberate Wisconsin from this mass migrant invasion of murderers, rapists, hoodlums, drug dealers, thugs, and vicious gang members. We're going to liberate our country." This Trumpian dystopia bears no resemblance to reality. Trump went as far as to claim that “hundreds of little cities and little towns" in the Midwest are being "occupied" by migrants with "MK-47s." As untethered from reality as he is, Trump is deadly serious about attempting deportation on an unprecedented scale. Even making an attempt to round up that many people would lead to horrific suffering and the weaponizing of state terror against immigrants, Latinos, Black people, and Trump’s partisan enemies. In short, Trump is calling for a massive military operation that seems designed to lead to economic misery, concentration camps, and mass death.

Mass deportation would be massively expensive

Experts are skeptical that Trump could enact his terrifying deportation agenda in part because to do so would require vast amounts of money. The funds would have to come from Congress, and even far right legislators are likely to balk at the cost. In 2023, ICE deported 142,580 people with a budget of $420 million. Trump wants to deport at minimum 10 million individuals; proportionally, that would cost about $30 billion.

There would be huge additional costs as well. ICE currently spends some $2.4 billion a year on 41,500 detainee beds. Trump is calling for more than 10 times as much deportation; the cost for warehousing immigrants could also be tens of billions of dollars. Even that’s only scratching the surface of the cost. Immigrants contribute to the economy by paying taxes, performing needed jobs, and providing income for households that include US citizens. Undocumented people paid $96.7 billion in taxes in 2022; that’s all money that would be lost if Trump got his wish. In addition, the Center for Migration studies estimates that if a third of US citizen children of undocumented immigrants remain in the US after their parents are deported, the state would end up spending $118 billion to care for them. GDP could contract 1.4 percent in the first year. Losses could total $4.7 trillion over a decade.

As the Washington Monthly argues, deporting 11 million immigrants would cause a national labor contraction and recession; there could be 968,000 job losses for American citizens. National wage and salary income could fall by $317.2 billion. Total deportation costs could be $265 billion. In short, it’s impossible to fully anticipate or predict the cost of such a huge, wasteful, ill-considered program. But Trump’s deportation nightmare is likely to make the country poorer by trillions of dollars. Recession, contraction, and economic misery will afflict the US for years, and possibly decades.

Mass deportation will lead to mass human rights abuses

Analysts have struggled to quantify and describe the human rights implications of Trump’s deportation strategy. A militarized force going door to door throughout the country with sweeping powers to arrest anyone they deem suspicious is obviously going to lead to monstrous abuses.

Trump has also said that he would be open to creating mass concentration camps at the border to warehouse undocumented people. He’s claimed these camps would be temporary since he plans to deport people quickly — but it’s easy to imagine hundreds of thousands of people housed in “temporary” facilities without adequate food or water, subject to rampant disease and violence from guards. There are at least some historical blueprints that can give us a sense of how dangerous and vicious a mass deportation program could be. Trump has repeatedly touted the Eisenhower-era Operation Wetback, named for a racist slur, as an inspiration for his policy. The operation was conducted by a task force of around 800 agents, who set up roadblocks and raided homes and workplaces in 1954 and 1955. Eisenhower’s deportation program ejected between 300,000 and 1.3 million people in 1954-1955. The Mexican government helped, in hopes that returned migrants would help with the country’s labor shortage.

Donald Trump’s mass deportation plan to deport all undocumented immigrants is a catastrophic disaster for our economy and for civil liberties.

[aftgficrec]

Do you have anything for settings outside of cannon?? Like au's or completely different universes

(Preferably neil centered but not exactly a necessity)

Ahhh there are many amazing AUs in our fandom, and of course a high percentage star Neil Josten. Generally, canon themes are still woven throughout the stories. Also check out AUs on our tags page where you can explore by theme. -A

a small sampling of AU themes:

single parent aus here

more band aus here

sitcom/romcom vibes here

long no exy aus here

new Hogwarts aus here

staff recs Mermay here

florist/tattoo artist andreil here

andreil enemies to lovers here

some Neil-centric AUs:

famous Neil (no exy) here

Neil as barista/waiter/bartender here

Neil with wings and lots of magic here

Oblivious ace-disaster Neil here

quirky Neil like ‘WUTBF’/‘Quicksand’ here

fics like ‘A Different Matter’ here

‘Neil’s Guide to Stalking Your Neighbor’ here

‘Dear Advice Guy’ here (complete)

‘The bittersweet between my teeth’ here

‘Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger’ here

‘Point Nemo’ here

‘still’ here

‘12 Ways to Woo a Minyard’ and ‘Deadly Affections’ here

Perennial by notyouranswer [Rated T, 11373 Words, Complete, 2023]

Neil downloaded a dating app (at Matt's insistence) to make some friends, but accidentally rejected a stranger right in front of him. Mild chaos ensues leading to conversations over coffee and a walk in the park.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: bullying

Into The Deep by Fortheloveofexy [Rated E, 21435 Words, Incomplete, Updated June 2023, Locked]

Part 1 of Tales From Foxhole Aquarium 

Neil Josten stares at the large building in front of him, his mouth twisted into a small frown. Yesterday, Browning had handed him a manila folder containing his new name, his new life. Included in that file had been a note, the same slightly crumpled note he’s holding in his hand now, with the name of his new employer. Foxhole Aquarium. Ask for David Wymack.

tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: animal abuse, tw: implied/referenced character death, tw: blood, tw: panic attacks

NB: fic art of merAndrew by @fortheloveofexy

Only Fools Fall. by Random2002 [Rated T, 19789 Words, Incomplete, Updated Feb 2023]

Neil tests how faithful his clients partners are. Roland is a client; he's worried about his boyfriend. It isn't long until Neil notices some serious rifts in the relationship he is meant to test.

tw: child abuse

White Hands by doodlingstuff [Rated T, 23308 Words, Complete, May 2023]

Neil's life isn't exactly a life except for Stuart, trying to cheer him up, and his paintings, whenever he's inspired. Andrew's life isn't exactly a life except for his family and his volunteering work, keeping him afloat as the time goes by. When Andrew stumbles into Neil's life unwillingly, both will learn one day at a time that they still have reasons to fight and dreams to fulfill. --- Another take on Artist!Neil and Bartender!Andrew full of soft and fluff.

tw: implied/referenced csa, tw: heavily referenced abuse, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced self harm 

If Neil, Then Fox by AlrightDarlin (WhoopsOK) [Rated T, 12838 Words, Complete, 2023, Locked]

Neil Josten’s machine warns him Aaron Minyard needs his help, but Neil isn’t prepared for the way Andrew Minyard is about to turn his life upside down.

tw: murder, tw: canonical character death, tw: implied character death, tw: drug use, tw: violence

Professor Neil series by HalfpintPeach [Rated G/T, Collection with 2 complete works, updated Feb 2023]

Part 1: Necessary Losses [T, 9783 Words, Complete, 2023] Neil's grad students invite their Exy-obsessed professor out to one of the most anticipated matches of the Exy Season, the Dallas Palms vs the Denver Yellowjackets. Neil is excited to join to watch his husband and one of his best friends battle it out on the Exy court.

Part 2: Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day [G, 3640 Words, Complete, 2022] Neil has one of the worst days and Andrew is able to make it a little bit better. Welcome to my Professor Neil and Professional Exy Player Andrew world! 

I'll be a Brand New Day by especiallythezefronposter [Rated T, 15519 Words, Complete, 2017]

Neil meets a man who looks a lot like his least favorite teammate, Aaron Minyard, and it ends up changing his life. (A Winter Soldier AU, because this fandom deserves a Winter Soldier AU)

tw: self harm, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: gun violence, tw: blood, tw: murder, tw: nightmares

Unlucky Lies by Winterlynne_Norvic [Not Rated, 26365 Words. Complete, 2019]

Neil hates being a demon. Andrew hates Neil. Their lives are hell, but maybe with each other it doesn't have to be.

tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: temporary major character death, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: demonic possession, tw: bullying, tw: assault, tw: attempted rape, tw: blood, tw: murder, tw: car accident, tw: canonical character death, tw: eating disorders

Neighbours series by transjorts [Collection, Rated T, Complete, 2021]

Part 1: Cat Burglar [6393 Words, AFTG Exchange Spring 2021] Neil has settled into his quiet life in Palmetto with a job at Barnes and Noble and a friend called Matt. But someone was breaking into his apartment and stealing his stuffed animals. What kind of fuckery is this?

tw: implied/referenced child abuse 

Part 2: Foxes and Fruitcake [12819 Words] Neil dives deep into Minyard-Hemmick family drama, plays exy and eats fruitcake.

tw: involuntary outing 

You're different than the others by Kml19 [Rated M, 21024 Words, Complete, 2017]

Neil works for the Moriyamas from inside the prisons as a guard, he doesn't think much about his own life, he is just glad that he is alive. That is until he meets a new prisoner that may change how he sees things.

tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced murder, tw: assault

NB: inspired by @requiemofkings’ artwork of prison guard Neil and inmate Andrew

Allurement by sundowne [Rated E, 20323 Words, Incomplete, Updated May 2023]

"You think I would use my allurement on you?" "You're not?" - A vampire AU in which Neil needs a new goalie and Andrew needs someone to feed from, so they strike a deal.

tw: blood, tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: implied/referenced torture

Remember! Proplifting is Shoplifting! by Mystrana [Rated T, 3697 Words, Complete, AFTG Summer Exchange 2022]

Neil works at the garden center. He hates his job. Andrew is an amateur gardener who enjoys tormenting garden center employees. Somehow, he makes Neil's job better.

If You Knew What I Know by interstellarflowers [Rated G, 12361 Words, Complete, 2021]

Neil runs a relationship advice column, and Andrew is a skeptic.

Whiskey Sour by maqicien [Not Rated, 6,870 Words, Complete, 2022]

In which Neil is a bartender and Andrew is the crime lord that owns the bar.

tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: assault, tw: blood/gore, tw: murder

jellyroot and many other causes of catastrophy series by jeanmorexu (papencuts), papencuts [Rated M, Collection with 2 complete works, AFTG Reverse Big Bang 2019]

Part 1: (a comprehensive guide to princes and knights and how not to acquire jellyroot) [10959 Words] Neil is a young prince of Palmetta. When he was just a boy, he was saved by a mysterious kid from a thug. Neil isn't sure who he is, or why he did what he did. That is, until he sees him again and this time, he's going to get some answers.

tw: homophobia, tw: assault

Part 2: united under kingdom, and unto each other [​​2099 Words]

“Can you imagine what this would do the crown? Backwater boxing matches, associating with drunkards, and criminals… These bruises, Andrew, gods… People are going to think I beat you.” “No one is going to think that. It’s almost assumed that you like me to beat you.”

NB: knight and prince art prompt by @requiemofkings

CVS by anxietycorner [Rated G, 38689 Words, Incomplete, Updated May 2023]

Neil had always worked the night shift alone. A co-worker couldn't hurt, right?

tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: abuse, tw: child abuse, tw: torture, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: ptsd, tw: flashbacks, tw: implied/referenced murder, tw: suicidal thoughts, tw: vomit, tw: alcohol, tw: bullying 

Art

Dirtyhands Neil art by @prince-peachie

spiderman au art by @rainbowd00dles

tattoo artist!neil comic by @jordanshenessy here and here 

the little siren au art by @allfortheslay25, wip 1, pre render

jellyfish Neil au comic by @emry-stars-art, also here

pirate Neil art by @heymrstargazer

winged Neil art by @mistykaru here, here, here, here and here

escaped single father Jean with baby Neil art by @estavs