#i see like. five titles i don't recognise

[mishkakagehishka]

I was thinking ab giving the new bts album a listen but there's like 48 songs on there ?? Ig they wanted a big release before the enlistment or smth💀

#i'm just hoping they're no longer sellouts💀 #i left back in 2021 bc butter was getting on my nerves and then make it right was the straw that broke the camel's back #like again i wrote thinkpieces already and all #i get that they were aiming for a grammy but i gen have no respect for artists who lose their uniqueness just bc they wanna #appeal to the american market like #but okay majority of those 48 are demos and unreleased versions and whatnots #i see like. five titles i don't recognise #i'll do that at some point over next week probs

[87kelce]

—devil in my lap and a cross on my neck

summary: it doesn't take much for travis to get you going. especially after he's been riled up during a game.

warnings: smut (18+ only, no minors), slight angst, teasing, fingering, minor arguments, semi-rough sex, missionary, doggystyle, slight dom/sub dynamics, mentions of breeding kink, minor use of daddy kink, slight choking kink, aftercare

word count: 3017

notes: title taken from the song ordinary life by the weeknd. again, likes and reblogs are very much appreciated 🫶

The past couple of games have been nothing short of amazing for the team, they're on a 3 game win streak and looking to go for another. However, they're currently trailing by 9 points at half time and you can tell the players are getting nervous for the next half, especially your boyfriend. Travis isn't his usual self, he dropped an important catch in the first quarter and he's been worked up over it ever since.

You're sitting in his box with a few of his friends and everyone keeps making sure you're okay, knowing how worried you are about Travis' performance. The players come back out for the third quarter and they seem to be a bit more pumped up this time around. You're still antsy about Travis and you're focusing too much on his first half performance to notice he gets a touchdown, the whole box erupting around you. You shake your head and look up to the screen, watching the replay and celebrating with everyone in the box.

Even after the touchdown, the rest of the game just gets even more stressful, the Chiefs trying hard to fight back points. You're watching Travis like a hawk and you notice he's being agitated by one of the opposition players for most of the third quarter. He ignores it all, but it completely throws him off his game, dropping another important catch. He's so wound up and frustrated and you just wish the game was over already so you can comfort him and take him home to rest up.

The Chiefs fight back a few points in the fourth quarter but ultimately it's not enough for a win and you slump down in your seat when the game's over, staring up at the scoreboard. You catch Travis walking off the field, helmet in hand and not even bothering to high five the fans overlooking the tunnel.

You gave him time to get ready before going down to find him, hoping that upon seeing you, he'd be in a better mood. You waited a few moments, wondering where he was and then a hand was on your shoulder, before he interlocked your fingers together.

"C'mon.. let's go home."

He was blunt, almost pulling you out the stadium to the parking lot and into his car. You debated on whether or not to ask him how he was, but then you knew the response you'd get. So you just sat in silence for a brief moment, before his hand was on your thigh, fingers toying with the hem of your black pleated skirt. He hadn't taken his focus off the road when you looked over at him, but his left hand was gripping the steering wheel, knuckles almost turning white.

"Trav.."

"Don't say anything."

His hand on your thigh started squeezing at your skin, fingers dangerously close to your core. Your hands flew straight to his wrist, holding on tightly as he ran one finger underneath your panties, dragging it across your folds. You leant forward, face leaning into his forearm as he pulled his finger back, before tugging at your underwear. You got the hint and lifted your hips slightly, letting him pull them off and down your legs to pool at your ankles.

You glanced out the window and recognised the surroundings, knowing you were only a few minutes away from his house. All you could do was silently beg him to keep going, your hips bucking up into his hand.

"Easy, easy.. be patient."

You just whined into his arm, sliding down the seat slightly to grind against his hand.

"I said, be patient."

"Please.."

He didn't even respond, turning the car onto his street, before pulling up into his driveway. You started to get out the car, removing your seatbelt but Travis' hand squeezed your thigh, silently telling you to stay still. He then proceeded to get out, walk round the back of the car before opening your door. He wiggled his fingers at you, indicating for you to swing your legs round, before he reached down to grab your panties, stuffing them into his trouser pocket. Standing back, he let you get out the car before he shut the door and let you walk up to the front door, him following closely behind. He handed you the key and you opened the door, walking into the living room and sitting down on the couch.

"Baby.. just sit down and relax, please."

He just ignored you, walking into the kitchen and grabbing a water from the fridge. You watched him take a few sips before putting it down on the counter.

"Talk to me, please.."

"Dropped two fuckin' catches today.."

"I saw.. but there's nothing you can do about it now.."

"Yeah, no shit. I'm still fuckin' pissed off though.."

Your eyes darted to his hand gripping the edge of the kitchen counter, watching his knuckles turn white as he tightened his grip. He dropped his head and clenched his jaw, before he brought his hand up to his face, dragging it down and shaking his head.

"So what was that in the car then?"

"Needed some stress relief."

You just rolled your eyes, crossing your arms and facing away from him on the couch. Now he was even more pissed and you could tell. You heard him sigh deeply before he spoke lowly and authoritatively.

"I'll give you five minutes to get upstairs and get into bed.. and I want everything off except the skirt."

You turned round to face him and he didn't even look at you, his head still facing the ground.

"You heard me."

You should be mad at him. Mad at him for being a dick after the game and barely acknowledging you, mad at him for touching you up in the car and leaving you high and dry, mad at him for starting an argument over something he did. But your legs wobbled as you walked towards the stairs and headed up, into the bedroom, stripping off and leaving the skirt on. You lay down on your front, lifting your legs in the air and spreading them out slightly when you heard his footsteps on the stairs.

Travis waited a few minutes downstairs before following after you, heading upstairs into his bedroom. When he saw you, he stepped towards the bed slowly, hands running up your thighs to your skirt, lifting it up slightly. Travis pushed at your legs, silently telling you to flip over onto your back. When you did as he said, you saw his hands grab at your ankles, pulling you closer to him at the edge of the bed. He then brought your legs up beside his waist, holding the backs of your knees and propping you up.

"This all for me?"

You just nodded, hands reaching down for the hem of your skirt and lifting it up. His eyes darted down and then back up at you.

"I've had a pretty bad day.. you think this pretty pussy can handle it?"

One of his hands made its way to between your legs, his thumb rubbing over your folds and sensitive area, making you arch your back slightly. You turned your head to the side, trying to hide it into the mattress, but then you felt his other hand drop from your leg to cup your chin, turning you back to face him.

"I asked you a question, baby."

"Yes.."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, I can handle—"

"Try again, baby."

"Yes, this pretty pussy can handle it."

"Good girl."

You watched as Travis put one knee on the edge of the bed, moving back slightly to let him kneel down on the mattress properly. He adjusted your legs to drape over his thighs, his hands bunching your skirt up around your waist before dragging them down your thighs, squeezing at your skin. He slightly tilted his head, eyes raking over your whole body.

"Do you promise to be a good girl?"

"Mmhm.. I promise."

"A good girl for who, baby.."

"For Daddy.."

"That's right, baby.."

Travis leaned down, his mouth pressing soft kisses to your cheek, then down to your jaw and then your neck. Your hands grabbed at his shirt, balling the material into your fists as you felt him kiss down your body. He stretched his legs back out onto the floor at the end of the bed, kneeling down and pulling you closer to the edge of the bed, his eyes flicking up at you from between your legs. Without breaking eye contact, he turned his head slightly to press a soft kiss to the inside of your left thigh, then turned his head the other way to kiss the inside of your right thigh.

You dropped your head back onto the mattress, one of your hands gripping the sheets and the other hand moving to your skirt, grabbing it and holding it against your stomach. Then you felt Travis' hands on the backs of your thighs, spreading them out slightly before his tongue was diving in between your folds, causing you to whimper and whine out, tears slightly forming in your eyes. He dropped one hand from your thigh, letting your leg drape over his shoulder while his hand moved up to palm at your breast, squeezing and kneading at your soft skin. His mouth wasn't letting up however, his tongue continuing to lick through your folds, his lips sucking at your sensitive nub. You were already worked up slightly from his hand toying with you in the car ride home, so it wasn't long before you dug your heel into his back, indicating to him you were getting close.

"S'okay baby.. this is the first of many tonight.."

You sighed out and arched your back, before dropping it slowly back to the mattress, letting your orgasm wash over you while Travis continued to eat you out. He did, however, slow down his movements, working you through it as gently as he could. As he pulled his head away from between your legs, he brought his hand back down to between your legs.

"Look at you makin' such a mess for Daddy."

You could only whine, his fingers playing around with your folds, spreading them open and running his fingers through them. He was still kneeling at the end of the bed, your ankle now resting on his shoulder as he watched you relax on the bed. Travis tapped the inside of your thigh and when you looked down at him, he nodded upwards, silently telling you to move back up the bed. You did as he asked, letting him kneel back up on the bed, your thighs once again resting over his thighs. His hand moved back down to between your legs, the backs of his fingers running through your folds, distracting you as he pulled down the waistband of his shorts. With his free hand, he pulled out his cock, stroking it a few times, before pulling his hand away from your core and bringing the tip of his cock to push through your folds.

"You ready, baby?"

"Please.."

"Please what?"

"Please.. Daddy.."

Travis took the hand that wasn't around his cock, and placed it beside your shoulder on the bed, his other hand pushing himself inside you. Your back instinctively arched off the bed again and he placed his hand on your stomach, gently pushing you back down.

"Easy, baby.. relax.."

You sighed out, feeling his head drop down to your shoulder, his lips on your skin, kissing softly across your collarbone area. His movements were slightly slow at first, just letting you adjust to his size like he does every time you're in bed together, but also letting you feel everything. It was always overwhelming in a good way, his cock inside you to the hilt, his lips leaving hot open-mouthed kisses to your neck and his body on top of you, engulfing you as he ground his hips against your core.

Then all of a sudden, Travis pulled out, tugging at your leg for you to flip over onto your stomach. You obliged and felt him kneel up behind you, one of his hands grabbing at your waist to hold you up while the other pushed his cock back inside you. His pace was getting slightly faster now, the sound of skin slapping on skin echoing around the room. You knew it was what he needed after the game today, and you were more than willing to let him take his frustrations out on you. Your hands were gripping onto the bedsheets, whining muffled by the pillow for a short second before you felt his hand creep up round your throat, pulling you up and against his chest. Your head fell back against Travis' shoulder, while his hand was holding onto your neck, not too loosely but also not too tight.

"Tell me how it feels, baby.."

"Good.. feels so.. uhh.. good.."

The new angle was driving you crazy, his cock hitting you just right inside and you were almost going limp against him, the only thing holding you steady was his hand on your hip and the other on your neck. He pulled your hips right back against him, his other hand letting go of your neck to push you back down onto the mattress. Travis lifted one of his legs up, placing his foot down on the mattress beside your leg, his hips now pushing down against you. He started up a rougher pace, pulling out all the way before slamming his hips against you, but then slowed down when he filled you up, grinding his hips against you. He took one hand from your waist and bunched up the skirt material into his fist, his other hand moving to spread out across your back, holding you in place almost.

"You hear those sounds, baby? Y'hear how wet you are?"

"M'close.. please.."

"Let go baby.. I got you.."

He pulled out to the tip once again, before slowly pushing himself back inside you, hearing you sigh as your second orgasm washed over you. Travis leaned down, kissing your shoulder and whispering sweet nothings in your ear to relax you, his hand rubbing at your back gently.

"You got another one for me, baby? Think you can come again for me?"

All you could do was whimper, feeling him flip you over onto your back, legs flopping over his thighs and his cock dropping out of you. Your hands reached up for him, grabbing his t-shirt and pulling him down, your lips connecting with his. One of your hands moved up to hold his cheek while the other cradled the back of his head, scratching at his buzzed hair. You felt Travis run the tip of his cock through your folds and you just nodded while kissing him, letting him push back inside you. Your eyes squeezed shut, hips absentmindedly grinding against him while he rocked his hips back and forth slowly. You pulled away from him, dropping your head into the crook of his neck as he rested his forehead on your shoulders. He took one of his hands that was on your hips, to move between your legs, thumb rubbing at your core, trying to pull a third orgasm out of you as quickly as he could.

As you ground your hips against him, you could hear him grunt against your neck. He was close but you could tell he wanted you to come before he did—but he wasn't lasting long. He moved the hand on your hip to place his palm on the bedsheets beside your head.

"M'gonna come.. fuck.."

"Don't.. mmph.. don't pull out.."

You heard him groan against your neck, and then the bedsheets underneath you went slightly taut, his hand gripping tightly.

"Yeah? Want me to fuck a baby into you?"

"Yeah.."

"Wanna be filled up?"

"Please.."

"Alright baby.. alright.."

Travis placed soft kisses to your neck, his hips pushing against you, before he grunted against your skin. You could feel his cock pulsate and spill his load inside you, the warm liquid filling you up. His breathing got heavier as he pulled away from you, only now removing his shirt to wipe the sweat from his forehead. He pulled back, standing at the foot of the bed, pulling you close and bending your legs back slightly, watching as his load dripped from your core. He wiped you up clean with his t-shirt before throwing it in the laundry basket. You lay on the bed and watched him remove his shorts, also throwing them in the laundry basket before grabbing a spare pair from the closet. He grabbed a t-shirt for himself, before grabbing another one for you and coming back to the bed. He took your hand, sitting you up and helping you into the t-shirt, before he put the other one on himself. You moved back up the bed and let him walk round, getting into his side, but sliding up against you.

"Sorry for being a dick earlier.."

"Hey, it's okay.. I know you were just frustrated from the game.."

"Doesn't make it okay for me to take it out on you though.."

"Well.. I kinda liked it.."

Travis just laughed, pulling you in closer to him and wrapping his arm around your stomach. He pressed a soft kiss to the back of your neck, closing his eyes. You just instantly relaxed into his touch, letting his hand roam over your stomach, pressing gently and squeezing at your hips, massaging your skin. His lips kissed at your neck again, more softly this time, making your eyes flutter closed.

"G'night baby.. I love you.."

"Love you too.."

He pressed one last kiss to the back of your neck, before he rested his head on his pillow, eyes closing once again as he drifted off to sleep. His light snoring made you smile as you drifted off to sleep yourself, feeling completely safe with his arm around your stomach and his warm body pressed against your back.

#travis kelce #travis kelce fluff #travis kelce smut #travis kelce angst #travis kelce x reader #travis kelce x y/n #travis kelce x you #travis kelce fic #kansas city chiefs #kc chiefs #nfl #nfl fan fic

[peace-for-levi]

Welcome Back

lol hiiiii, sorta haven't written in *checks watch* eight months so i am RUSTY.

cw: feelings of grief, graphic descriptions of dissociation, reader feeling disconnected and needing to be grounded. post-expedition hurt-comfort is my fav genre, lol.

word count: 1447.

taglist: @levmada @jayteacups @happybird16 @theferricfox @sckerman @wortverlust @lostinwildflowers @pockcock @nelapanela94 @notgoodforlife @unadulteratedtreecrusade @starstruckkittensweets

Arms up. Arms down.

Grief anchors and weighs you down like a ball and chain. It's heavy, cumbersome and you are left to just bear the brunt of it. It has a way of removing you from the world, leaving you unable (even unwilling) to reconnect. The most recent expedition and the deaths that came with it weigh down on your shoulders. You lean over, back hunched. Neck tense.

Distantly, you recognise what it is you are feeling (or lack of.) Distantly, you recognise the expedition has probably sent you into this state.

Your vision is 'stretched', or distorted, and everything has a dull fuzz to it. You're sure if you reached to grab the book on your bedside locker, it would slip through your fingers and melt away.

And that you'd wake up from this.

You form a fist and relax it, stretching your fingers. Lines on your fingers; oh, five fingers, all with fingernails. Five sets of knuckles. These are your hands? Surely, right?

You form a fist and this time you squeeze, and you almost feel your nails sink in. Just slightly but it's enough for you to shudder. In realization? In pain?

It's not unusual for your mind to be stuck out in the plains beyond the Walls. The boom and echo of flares rattles in your ears, the screams of your comrades leaves your head spinning. The idea of being back in your bedroom is just something you haven't registered yet, too busy stuck somewhere between a nightmare and reality.

A fake, shadowy middle of unreality.

It's nauseating, harrowing. If not for your feet pressed to the floor and your calves backed to the edge of the bed frame, you'd have a hard time trusting gravity in keeping you down.

There's a voice in the foreground, but you're not quite there yet. Their speech is fragmented.

You cling to reason; to routine and actions. You try to cling to dialogue and even though you understand the words, they don't get processed. You try to attune to the conversation, however one-way it is.

"Your shoulders tense up when you get like this. Relax."

Shoulders… ah, your shoulders? So you roll them. You don't really know what else to do. Tense? Why are you tense and what–

…

What are you…?

Where…?

Levi senses he's losing you further here, so he gives you an order. A command; you can latch onto that. It'll give your brain something to do, long enough to take you away from the plains.

"Legs out. I'll undo your buckles," he says as he kneels between your legs.

Leg up, straighten, leg down.

Same idea again for your left.

The frigid air against your – now – bare skin makes you shiver. Your clothes are being taken off, piece by piece.

"Do you know where you are?"

"Do you know…?" is a question that he noticed that also makes you come back to your senses. He has asked a question that requires a logical answer; you need to go searching for clues.

You know it's your bedroom – what else could it possibly be? – but it just looks so… wrong. In a moment of faint realization, you feel the night's gentle breeze prick the skin on your legs. You turn to the bedside locker and see a bowl of lumpy, congealed soup with a bread roll that looks like it's on the verge of going bad. You must have forgotten to eat it. There's an oil lamp next to the soup, as well as an old book. Reading is a bit too hard at the moment; you can hardly put together the title of the book.

Now you look in front of you. Of course the black hair and grey eyes belong to your lover, but he didn't look so real right now. If you reached out to touch him, would you feel the black tresses spill between your fingers? The war-torn hands clasp your own?

You sink your fingertips into his scalp. He lets it happen, lets you cling to him. He doesn't even flinch, he knows you need grounding. He brings a hand up and rests it on yours, as if to say…

Feel me.

I am alive. You are alive. We are both here, and you will not wake up from this.

(Your brain just needs a lot of convincing.)

He squeezes his hand over yours. "You're getting ready for a bath, I'm helping you," he states. More information to cling to. "Whatever you're feeling, let it be there."

He is slowly walking you to your ensuite. The ground beneath your feet felt soft, even for oak planks. You fumble as you walk, second-guessing your surroundings, but Levi's got you.

He's always there.

The boundaries of the room appear elusive and murky, as you reach out for the skirting on the sides of the bathroom door. Levi was smart and had the bath ready to go, warm water prepped. With a cupped palm, he gently guides you into the bath.

"Step in."

A command to follow.

Leg up, over, and sit.

You soak into the heated water and sit down. You vaguely feel the suds cling to you. The aware part of you hopes they'll wash away the muddy feeling.

Levi begins to fill up a bucket of the sudsy water. He takes a look at your toned back, marred with grime, dirt and caked blood, and stops. He thumbs over some of the rougher sores and tears; some of these scars have been there for years. Shades of purples and blacks and reds, dotting the surface; all serving as a horrific reminder that, so far, you have made it back home every time.

You watch the dirt drip down and swirl in the water, floating there.

Silence permeates between the two of you, and normally, it is a comfortable silence. But Levi wanted to check in.

"How are you doing now, [F/n]?"

Blink. You stare back at him with pupils blown, looking at everything and nothing. "Fine."

"Do you know who I am?" He asks, carefully, scrubbing your shoulders.

Black hair, grey eyes. "Levi…" you murmur.

He nods. Should he press further? He's not sure.

Dissociation is a fickle defense mechanism with a hair-trigger temperament. It can be the deaths of the comrades in your most recent expedition; it could also be triggered by the smell or sound that reminds you of something unpleasant. It sometimes comes when it wants and Levi learned the best way to deal with it was to not deal with it. To let it happen, and sit beside you as it does.

"Don't fight it. Let it be there."

But you don't want it to be there. You stretch out your palm and reach for the towel, but you just hold it. Maybe for comfort, maybe to feel a texture. You register the caked blood by your cuticles and you keep it in your mind's eye for a second, but your vision starts to splinter again.

"But it feels awful…" you find yourself saying. "I hate not recognising my surroundings, I hate not–"

He cuts in. "I know, sweetheart. I know." He takes hold of your hand and squeezes. "I know." He assures.

Because he does.

He's sat with you through every episode of this.

He guides you out of the bath when you're done, and dresses you in your nightgown. He sweeps your hair up and out of your face, before cupping your cheeks. You practically fall into his hands. He pats your cheek in response.

"You back with me yet?"

You shake your head, but your answers are coming out quicker now. He steers you with one hand on the small of your back and peels back the comforter.

As the room gets shrouded in darkness, you're pulled to his chest. A smell of cedar and black tea, the thrum of his pulse and the rise and fall of his chest. Small circles being etched into your hips by his thumb.

"We're going to try to rest now." He tells you.

A command of sorts, something to stick to.

Get in bed, lie down, and breathe.

"Yes, okay," you mumble as you twiddle your thumbs. "Okay."

He pulls you impossibly closer, nose in the crook of your neck and suddenly... you're in the clear.

"I'm [F/n]. I'm in my room. I'm with Levi…" you whisper to yourself, with confidence.

"Welcome back," your lover sleepily replies.

{friendly reminder acceptance doesn't work for everyone but it is a healthy start for some!}

#cece; speaks #levi x reader #husbando tag<3 #levi ackerman #captain levi #levi ackerman angst #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #aot #snk #aot levi #snk levi #levi x you #tw.dissociation #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin

[pineapple-cheese-bread]

if you feel like you might want to read the How to Train Your Dragon books here's a list of my favorite chapter titles from all 12 books.

Book 1:

Chapter 13 when yelling doesn't work

Chapter 14 the fiendishly-clever plan

Chapter 16 the fiendishly-clever plan goes wrong

Book 2:

Chapter 4 Whose coffin is this anyway?

Chapter 10 the worst day of hiccups life so far

Chapter 14 the day takes a turn for the worse

Chapter 17 how bad can this day get?

Book 3:

Chapter 16 The cunning but desperate plan

Chapter 19 Aaaaaaaagh

Chapter 20 Hiccup the god

Book 4:

Chapter 7 the quest for the frozen potato

Chapter 11 in the soup

Chapter 13 the great potato burglary

Chapter 14 the potato burglars run

Chapter 15 they might just make it now

Book 5:

Chapter 9 how do you take advice from someone who has taken a vow of silence?

Chapter 11 the quest to stop the volcano from exploding

Chapter 14 is it always nice to bump into an old acquaintance?

Chapter 18 can you out run an exploding volcano?

Book 6:

Chapter 1 an odd way to spend your birthday

Chapter 2 spinach with your driftwood?

Chapter 10 BIG BIG TROUBLE

Chapter 13 yikes

Book 7:

Chapter 2 may the fattest (and least stupid) man (or woman) win

Chapter 3 isn't that Snotlout a lovely guy?

Chapter 12 R-R-R-RUUUUUUUNNNNNN!!!!!

Chapter 19 keep kicking, it's a long swim home

Chapter 20 the ticking thing starts to tick louder

Book 8:

Chapter 3 definitely not the perfect camping spot

Chapter 7 I'm getting married in the morning

Chapter 10 does anybody recognise this lobster pot?

Chapter 19 an unexpected development

Chapter 20 this really had been a very bad night

Book 9:

Chapter 8 oh for thors sake

Chapter 13 get your skates on!!!

Chapter 15 things go surprisingly well in the sword fighting compatition

Chapter 16 things start to go wrong

Chapter 17 still going wrong

Book 10:

Chapter 2 a few communication problems

Chapter 4 hiccups less brilliant plan

Chapter 11 a genuine surprise

Chapter 17 did I already mention that the pass has away of catching up with the present

Chapter 20 oh dear

Chapter 25 I don't think I'm dead

Chapter 28 facing the music... And Alvin and the witch

Chapter 29 un unexpected development

Book 11:

Chapter 3 plan going wrong

Chapter 8 you wouldn't find Alvin's secret camp even if you searched for a hundred years

Chapter 9 inside Alvin's war bunker

Chapter 15 you rang madam?

Chapter 18 a very short chapter in which it looks like everything is about to go right for for five minutes

Chapter 19 everything goes wrong again, very rapidly

Book 12:

Chapter 1 however bad things seem to be they can always get worse

Chapter 2 you see, it just got worse again less than five minutes into the story

Chapter 3 the minor problem

Chapter 4 the larger problem

Chapter 8 I bet you thought that this was never going to happen

Chapter 13 a very short chapter that begins well and ends badly

Chapter 15 preparing for the funeral - sorry single combat

Chapter 18 the past never leaves us

Chapter 19 and it haunts the present in more ways than we think

Chapter 20 it certainly scares the living daylights out of me

Chapter 22 that's why the call him Alvin the treacherous (the clue is in the name really)

Chapter 24 did I mention that the past has a way of catching up with us eventually

#how to train your dragon books #all of them #I love the titles of the httyd books #httyd #httyd books

[anonymous-character-tournament]

Welcome to the Anonymous Character Tournament!

Have you ever broken down your blorbo to their base components?

Have you ever tried to explain your blorbo to a friend and realised they're really a few cool concepts in a trenchcoat?

Have you ever wondered how many people would like your blorbo if only they knew them?

Taking inspiration from @guess-that-ship, @mysterytournament and @masqueradetourney, and inspired by others like @qpr-competition, @the-ultimate-tournament, @autismswagsummit.

This is a competition to see which blorbo is the most compelling when stripped of their name and their immediately identifying characteristics. As the title says, each participant will be anonymous, and you'll only know a few cool details about them when you vote. The names will be revealed when each character loses, but you're welcome to speculate (I won't confirm anything).

Rules:

Nominations are only through this Google form, which will close on April 26th at 5pm UTC. Any nomination through any other means will be ignored.

OCs and real people are not allowed.

In the form you must provide the character's name and the media they're from.

You must also provide a list of up to five cool characteristics about the character you're submitting (I will pick from here when making the presentations that will appear under every poll). If you include more than five characteristics, I will ignore from the sixth onward.

Characteristics should be captivating and short: bullet points are accepted, short complete phrases are accepted, paragraphs are not accepted.

Characteristics should be vague enough as not to make the character immediately recognisable. They also must things the character canonically is/has done.

You may include further details about the character you're submitting in the fourth question of the form, without a length limit. Avoid immediately recognisable characteristics and/or accomplishments here also. (While this won't appear on the polls, it will be used as propaganda and linked under every poll.)

Please nominate each character only once, but of course you can nominate as many as you want. Though, only one nomination per form is allowed, otherwise I'll just ignore all of them.

I have no idea how many participants this tournament will end up having. I will have an answer after the submission form closes.

Before the voting starts, we'll have a presentation round like I did for @book-was-better. If you want to see a facsimile of a presentation round post for this tournament, maybe for taking inspiration for the short characteristics, go here. Be advised that the character depicted in the facsimile doesn't actually exist and as such won't be included in the tournament.

Disclaimer: As I won't vet any of the submissions (except for if they follow the rules or not) and you won't know who you're voting for, you may end up voting for a character you hate or one from a media you hate. I don't take any responsibility for the distress it may cause.

#tumblr polls

[heartricky]

dog union - "en garde!"

summary: after choreographing the "artist battle mission" song 'en grade' for the survival show, 'boys planet', you had been asked to come and help evaluate the trainee's performance and give advice before their performance in the following days, what happens when you catch the attention of the youngest three trainees?

a/n: this is heavily inspired by @boysplanetmorelike's story "Let's Win This Love" - I reread it so often omg - but I wanted to change it up a bit to fit the dog union! junhyeon I miss you so much.

word count: 836

As a young choreographer, having dropped out of school to pursue your dream of dancing for a living, finding people that would allow you to choreograph for them was difficult, but thankfully, being given the opportunity to co-choreograph a few of the Kep1er title tracks had boosted your popularity, even having MNET contact you about choreographing a new song for their upcoming survival show, Boys Planet.

Naturally, you jumped at the chance, so happy and honoured to have been given such an amazing opportunity. The song being so catchy had played a huge role in your choreography, wanting it to be powerful and eye catching - even cheekily making a reference to how many hours it had taken you to come up with the choreography in the post-chorus!

After recording the song with a couple of dancer friends you had, you sent the dance off to the primary producer of the show, receiving many compliments from other producers as well on the quality of your choreography.

But apparently, MNET wasn't done with you, asking if you were willing to come and advise the trainees who had been given the song to help prepare them for the 'Artist Battle' mission before the final, wanting to make sure that they performed to the best of their ability. You agreed, having seen a couple of clips of the show before, wanting to see if you could spot a couple of your favourite trainees - you couldn't help it that Sung Hanbin was so likeable!

->

After being given a mic and a pep talk from one of the producers and star master, Choi Youngjoon, who was also going to be guiding the trainees on their performance, you walked in bowing at the trainees who were excited to meet the choreographer of the song they were performing.

"Gunwook-ah, look at them! They choreographed the song? Wow, they're gorgeous and talented at the same time?"

You blush lightly at the compliment, making eye contact with a boy with the name 'Kim Gyuvin' on his chest, telling you his name instantly. He smiled, waving lightly before turning to hit his friend, named 'Gunwook' apparently, happy that you had seen him.

You turn to Youngjoon, who had also witnessed the interaction, exclaiming lightly, "Why don't you boys say that stuff about me? I choreograph!"

Gyuvin blushes lightly at the small dig, not wanting to seem disrespectful, "I'm sorry, master-nim, but look at them! You agree that they're beautiful, right?"

"Gyuvin-ah like they'd go out with you, they look like they prefer muscles!" You hear Gunwook say, flexing his bicep muscles, kissing them lightly before winking at you, causing you to laugh a little, ducking your head.

"No! They definitely want a boyfriend who can make them laugh! Junhyeon is five years old!" A third boy who looks to be a similar age says to you, the aegyo clear in his voice, forcing a pout on his face.

You sit there in shock, not knowing what to do, until Hui, or Hoetaek on the show, interrupts, "We are here to get feedback guys, not flirt with the choreographer!" He rolls his eyes, also finding the situation funny, but wanting to stay professional in front of the cameras.

"Wait!" Junhyeon - you learn - shouts. "Let me ask at least, who is the most good looking here, choreographer-nim?"

Not knowing how to respond under the sudden pressure and attention, you mindlessly point at one of the trainee's on the end, someone you recognised from some clips circulating on the internet.

"Hiroto." You say, "Hiroto is the most good looking."

The practice room descends into silence, but not for long until you hear the giggles of Hiroto, winking at him lightly before coming back to look at the three youngest members.

"No!" "Thats not right!" "You can't do that!" " I asked you between the three of us!"

The boys burst into shouts, clearly unhappy with your response, Gyuvin even going over to pretend to whack Hiroto for what seemed to be for simply existing.

"Okay! Okay, okay." Youngjoon finally intervenes, having enjoyed the situation for too long. "If you are comfortable with it y/n, how about I propose a deal?" He pulls you to the side, whispering a fun plan to you, wanting your confirmation before telling the three teens what he had come up with.

Walking back over to your seat in front of the mirror, you clear you throat before speaking,

"Whoever impresses me the most with the choreography, and who stands out to me the most at the final performance can get my number."

Hoping the small incentive would bring a great performance from the boys, you explain the plan, the three dog-like boys agree immediately, Junhyeon even jokingly voicing out his plan to injure his two friends before the performance so that he would perform the best, but you stopped him before he could actually begin to think about playing dirty.

->

And, well, who performed the best at the 'En Garde' performance? That's up to you.

#boysplanet #boysplanet fics #kum junhyeon #park gunwook #Kim gyuvin #zerobaseone #zb1 fics #zb1 imagines #boysplanet fluff

[siriannatan]

Tale of Two Champions - ScfWhip

I honestly had similar stories in this au' circling my brain for months, but I finally got to it, yay.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/55722241

fWhip tired every excuse he had in his sleeves but there was no reasoning with Gem. “Come on sis, I'll be fine, like literally no one ever recognises me…” he did still try though. Gem might be impossible to convince but fWhip could argue with her the whole day long.

“No,” she said sternly as she turned to poke her finger onto his chest. “You'll listen, and you'll stay with Scott until me and Jimmy catch whoever's targeting the former arena champions,” she could be pretty scary if she wanted to.

“Come on Gem, I can take care of myself, I don't need some pompous prick looking after me,” fWhip rolled his eyes. This was getting ridiculous in his eyes.

“He's not looking after you, he's the current champion, therefore also a potential target. Both of you are under constant watch,” Gem finally seemed to see fit to say he'd be stuck with the person who probably liked him less than the killer did. “I'll sooner eat my hat than let anything happen to you,” she finished with one last poke and marched on. fWhip had no excuse to not follow. He could just hope the killer would be caught quickly.

“Why are you hiding us at the arena? Wouldn't whoever's looking for Scott just come right here?” fWhip questioned, hoping Scott wasn't there yet.

“Wouldn't whoever's looking for you two assume we hid you away from the arena? Besides, it's just the meeting spot and I wasn't the one who came up with it,” Gem's response didn't feel fWhip with confidence in Council’s decision making process.

Seeing Jimmy, his freaking ex, member of the council, head of law enforcement, talking to Scott. Whom fWhip only knew from TV and posters. Had his confidence sinking even lower. Of course he had to have been dragged out from work, in very casual clothes, when he had to meet Jimmy for the first time since the break up.

And not to mention Scott was like the walking image of the perfect champion. With his perfect form fitting trousers. Did they have to be so tight? Thigh high boots. Why the heel? You're tall enough you pompous prick, fWhip thought as he eyed his successor. The perfectly fitted blazer and stupidly perfect, soft looking bar. And his stupidly perfect, handsome face?

Next to him fWhip looked like some vagrant. With his heavy boots and loose jeans with more holes than they had when he brought them. Not to mention the old tank top and how messy his hair was. Not that it was ever properly styled for more than five minutes. All in varying shades of black and dark red. Well, save for his cyan hoodie that painfully matched Scott's hair. Sleeves rolled up even if it was barely hanging on around his elbows, exposing the shimmering tattoos on his arms. And he had his glasses on and likely looked low-key like a bit of a nerd. Which he was but it didn't mean he wanted to look too much like one.

And of course Gem instantly started talking to Jimmy about how to best get them to the hiding spot they prepared. Leaving fWhip to awkwardly stand next to Scott. Whose unfair tallness was even more apparent up close.

“So you are still alive,” Scott huffed with what had to be disdain in his voice.

“What? Disappointed you didn't win the title from me?” fWhip bit back, doing his best to match vitriol Scott spoke with even if he personally didn really care how Scott felt about him just stepping down with no fight.

“Maybe at the start I was, but now I don't really care,” Scott seemed to shrug and fWhip just tensed a bit more, kind of ready for a fight.

“That's good because I'm not fighting anyone, ever again,” he huffed just to have the last word. And thanks to Gem and Jimmy moving in to explain their elaborate plan he did.

The plan was that four cars with Council agents disgusted with illusions to look like them would leave first. With a car with real them leaving a bit later. Scott and fWhip just nodded as Jimmy spoke. Then they would be practically on house arrest in a secret safe house somewhere in the city.

“And how long are we expected to stay there?” Scott asked what fWhip was thinking.

“Until we catch the guy,” Jimmy's answer only had fWhip groan in annoyance.

“Come on Jim, some of us have actual jobs they have to go to,” he grumbled. He didn't really believe this was the first thing he said to Jimmy since.

“We informed your job you'll be unavailable for the foreseeable future, they agreed to mark it as a vacation without taking any of your days off away,” of course Gem had an explanation for everything.

fWhip just huffed out an annoyed puff of smoke. Perks of fire magic. You can breathe smoke at anyone who annoys you. Like a twin sister or ex boyfriend. Or icy, pompous prick. “Let's just get this over with then,” he grumbled.

Jimmy and Gem then left to coordinate the decoys and fWhip was left alone with Scott. And several guards who were probably there to make sure they didn't run away.

“They probably don't have a plan in case the killer finds us anyway,” Scott said in a hushed tone. At least he looked a bit worried.

“Knowing Jim? Absolutely,” fWhip huffed. “I guess we can try to knock them out or something,” he shrugged.

“I was about to say you better stick close to me in case it happens,” Scott rolled his eyes.

“Why? I can protect myself.”

“Didn't you say you didn't want to fight anyone ever again?” Scott's expression was too serious for fWhip to even attempt reading it as a dig at him. Bastard was totally serious. And it was pretty nice of him to offer.

“Well, I'll fight if my life depends on it, duh,” he rolle dnia eyes but quickly added, “but I appreciate the thought,” to not look like a complete jerk. It wasn't Scott's fault Gem and Jimmy decided to get them stuck together.

They spend the rest of the wait awkwardly standing there in silence. fWhip holding onto his bad. Scott just standing like an ice statue.

The drive wasn't any more exciting. Just the silent in the back seat as he agents drove. They weren't even playing the radio so talk about awkward silence.

The safehouse was a pretty nice suburban home with tall fence and electric gate.

“Leave the key in the car, remote for gate and garage too,in case we have to get away quickly,” Scott told the agents. They tried to argue but fWhip backe dthe idea up. At least the two of them had some braincells in this whole operation.

The rest of the day was pretty boring. There was no TV in the house. No radio. No internet. They were not allowed to turn their phones on since they turned them off at the arena. At least there were cards and board games so they had something to do until it was time to sleep. fWhip really hoped Gem and Jimmy would catch the killer soon. He was going to go crazy if he had to keep this up for too long.

At least Scott seemed to be equally bored and annoyed by the time they separated to get ready for bed. Annoyingly enough, no one thought to get them a change of clothes. Scott had to be real comfy in his outfit, fWhip thought. He himself was totally fine sleeping in his jeans. In case anyone attacked at night.

He was almost sleep when someone sneaked into his room. “Off the bed, stay low and quiet,” Scott whispered as he shook fWhip. “I think we've been found. I heard commotion, and new voices,” he explained as fWhip follows his instructions, dragging his bag with him.

“Think we can't get to the car?” fWhip asked, focusing his hearing. He heard nothing. Scott's room was closer to the front of he house.

“Can you drive?” Scott asked back.

“Yes. You don't?”

“Everyone was pushing me to focus on magic training,” Scott sighed. “If we get out of here alive I'll go and learn, we need to move,” he hissed, pulling fWhip to the window. There were barley audible footsteps outside the door

Scott seemed to have it all figured out as he left his window open. So they could sneak back in. They assumed whoever the intruders were already searched that room. And they were right. The door just closed as they dared sneak in.

They waited a bit by the door listening for footsteps, ready to fight. But no one came in. When they heard doors open and close the peeked out. Clear. So they quickly and quietly made their way to garage.

“Once we're out turn my phone out and call Gem,” fWhip said tossing his back in Scott's lap. Garage door and front gate already opening as h started the car. He didn't really have time to bother with seatbelts at the moment.

“Got it,” Scott nodded. “Head down,” he added as he started looking for fWhip's phone.

fWhip ducked enoug to still see the road and drove them out quietly, as to not alarm anyone in the house. Idiots didn't leave anyone outside.

“She's ‘twinny’ in my contacts,” fWhip said without Scott needing to ask.

Scott nodded and called Gem. No answer. Was she in trouble too? Did someone mess with the signal? “What now?” Scott grumbled, looking back. Yup, they were being pursued already.

“The arena? At least there's space there, just in case, keep trying to call her,” fWhip sighed. Of course they couldn't contact help.

The arena looked creepy at night. “To the center,” fWhip said, ready to be exhausted and in a lot of pain the next day. He hated physical exercise.

Which was clear when he started running out of breath about halfway. Scott just grumbles something and the next second fWhip was over his shoulder, carried like a sack of potatoes. “Oi, I'm not that tired,” fWhip huffed but his lungs were saying otherwise. He was not getting out of bed tomorrow.

“Shut up and tell me if they're getting too close,” Scott huffed and ran possibly even faster than before. Was fWhip's lack of condition holding him back? Show off.

The arena center instantly illuminated as soon as they walked in. “Well well well, council really saved us some work putting both the last and present champions together,” a voice laughed as fWhip tried to recall how to breathe once sat in the sand.

“And you are?” Scott called out, ice covering the door they got in through. And generally covering them as a shield from any potential attacks from outside the arena.

The person didn't seem to like it. “You insolent little… No. It doesn't matter if you know, you'll both die tonight anyway, and tomorrow I'll be the champion,” they cackled as fWhip and Scott exchanged stares and shrugs.

“Can't you just challenge me normally?” Scott asked and fWhip instantly knew what he was doing. Buying time. So fWhip hid as much as he could behind him and tried sending a text to Gem. It got through. ‘Been got, at the arenaz whole organization, Scott's distracting the leader’ he sent, once he knew it would work. Now they had to just wait.

“What? You think you can win against me? You'll freeze before you can,” the man in charge scoffed.

“I don't think he will,” fWhip grinned and snapped his fingers. Instantly the outer edge of the arena burst in flames. He was starting to get chilly from Scott's ice surrounding them anyway. “Go crazy,” he chuckled, patting Scott's back.

And go crazy Scott did. The few times fWhip saw him fight, even if just on the TV at the tattoo shop he worked at now, he didn't see Scott pull out maneuvers and spells this crazy. It was honestly pretty impressive. But it also meant he had to put effort into keeping the flames going.

At the end of the fight, when the leader got knocked out Scott still had some frost on his hands and face and his breath came out with puffs of cold.

And it would seem Gem got everyone into gear as fast as she could and every member of the mysterious organization present got caught.

“You okay?” fWhip asked, sitting next to Scott. Gem and Jimmy had everything else handled now.

“I think so,” Scott nodded with a clearly forced smile. “Could use a blanked,” he joked, that fWhip knew. But he still cradled his stupidly pretty face in his hands. Melting the ice build up on there

“No you're not, you're bleeding,” fWhip sighed and used a trick not even Gem knew he had. Long time ago he figured out he could heal small scrapes with his flames. And used it now on Scott. “Not a word to anyone,” he grinned, not mentioning Scott's hands coming up to lay on his as he still held ice pricks face.

“Fine, but I'm buying you coffee tomorrow, it'd be a much more troublesome fight without you here,” Scott countered with a genuine smile.

“Uhum, I hate to break the moment but I'll need you two to get up and see the medics,” Gem interrupted, arms crossed over her chest. She might have looked annoyed but fWhip knew she was glad they were fine.

“Yeah yeah,” fWhip sighed and got up, and offered a hand to Scott but he didn't need it, already up before fWhip. He just rolled his eyes and dutifully went to see the medics even if he was totally fine.

Medics didn't hold them long, quickly declaring them good to go home. At least some good news. Now, how does he get home at this hour…

“My place isn't too far and I have a free guest bedroom if you don't feel like being alone after all that,” Scott offered as fWhip wondered how to get to his apartment. “And I can add breakfast to that coffee,” he added with the most awkward smile fWhip ever saw.

“You know what, sure, it'd be a pain for me to get to my place anyway,” fWhip shrugged and once Jimmy cleared them as free to leave the scene. They walked to Scott's.

It was indeed not at all far away. And pretty cozy for a high rise, luxury apartment. The guest bed was damn comfy too. Not that fWhip could sleep at all. Even after a shower and changing into comfier clothes Scott lent him he kept tossing and turning as his brain wondered what would happen if Scott didn't come for him.

“Damn it,” fWhip muttered and decided Scott probably wouldn't mind if he makes himself some tea.

To his shock Scott was already in the kitchen, sipping on some tea. Looking exhausted. “Can't sleep too?” He asked with a weak smile.

fWhip nodded. “Can't stop my brain from thinking,” he sighed and glanced at the kitchen.

“Go for it,” Scott nodded and yawned.

fWhip thought for a second and decided that it was too late for tea. “I have a better idea if you're willing to listen,” he offered. Scott nodded so he continued. “We can just sleep in one bed, might calm our brains to have someone else there, but feel free to refuse I won't be offended,” he quickly rambled out.

Scott blinked a few times as he processed what fWhip had just said. Then he looked at his tea, grimaced and nodded. “We can at least try,” he agreed.

In all honesty, until they were together in Scott's bed fWhip didn't really process that sharing a bed entailed them both being in it. At once. And that Scott only had shorts and a t-shirt on, same as fWhip. But once the initial shock passed it was shockingly easy to fall asleep like that. Staring at Scott's face. It was really nice up close, okay.

fWhip woke up, mildly confused, with something cold touching him. Cracking one eye open he got met with a mess of cyan hair. Scott, his brain supplied as he remembered last night. The current magic arena champion, his successor even if they never fought each other, was cuddling up to fWhip. They were in his bed. Some crazy group tried killing them last night.

Who would have thought the ice prince would be cuddly in the morning, fWhip smiled to himself as he just let Scott cuddle him. Who knew if he ever got a chance to share a bed with Scott again.

Not that he got a long time with the cuddles. Scott soon started to stir awake and abruptly sat up once he realized he was cuddling fWhip and not his mass of pillows of varying sizes and shapes.

“Morning,” fWhip yawned, stretching slightly but did not even try to get up.

Scott looked at him with wide eyes. “Morning,” he said, whole face red in embarrassment. “I should have mentioned I can get grabby…” he sighed.

“Don't worry about it, I don't mind,” fWhip waved it off.

That didn't seem to convince Scott. “We should go get breakfast…” he muttered and fWhip sighed.

“Or it can wait and you can cuddle more if you want, I really don't mind he offered with a grin. Scott was absolutely adorable when not putting up the champion persona.

“Really?” He asked and fWhip nodde. In like two seconds Scott was once more cuddled up to him. “You're warm…” he sighed.

“Yeah, I know,” fWhip nodded. Mission success he thought.

In the end neither of them felt like cooking so they went out for brunch. It was a bit late to call it breakfast. Scott took them to a place that, in his words, had best blueberry pancakes in town. Couple bites in fWhip was inclined to agree.

Or maybe he was enjoying spending time with Scott when he wasn't dressed as champion but instead in baby blue cardigan, beige slacks and tenis shoes. Who knew. He'd have to come by couple more times to really decide. Coffee was pretty good too.

“So what now? We just go back to living like we used to?” Scott asked, poking his pancakes with a fork.

fWhip shrugged. “I certainly wouldn't mind having pancakes with you again,” he grinned, hoping he read Scott's intentions correctly. “Or cuddling again,” he added as Scott blushes a little, making him blush harder.

“That would be amazing,” Scott nodded with the cutest smile ever.

fWhip was about to offer they exchange numbers when, “aren't you two adorable?” Gem was suddenly next to their table. “Media will certainly love you two going out more.”

“Any news of what that organisation was?” fWhip ak

Sked to move the topic off of personal topics.

“No clue, they all suddenly died while in police custody, but that's Jimmy's problem. He's gonna be so salty his exes got together while he struggles to try asking Tango out for coffee,” she grinned and fWhip groaned. Of course.

“You and Jimmy? Wow,” Scott whistled.

“Ditto,” fWhip rolled his eyes but could see what Scott meant. fWhip never looked like someone who'd date a cop.

“I'll leave you two to your flirting, but next time let me know before gossip radio channels do, okay?” Gem sighed and left with a wave.

Scott groaned. fWhip just nodded. Media was one of the top reasons he quit being the champion. “Media's why I don't hate you for just stepping down,” Scott explained with a deep sigh.

fWhip hummed and passed his phone to Scott. “Put your number in and maybe I'll agree to a friendly spar. But only because it's you,” he grinned. Scott instantly perked up at that.

#my stuff #my stories #empires smp #fanfiction #empiresshipping #empires fwhip #empires scott

[greyfics]

title: a first for sincerity.

- °•. ✦ .•° -

characters: the ghoul (cooper howard) + lucy maclean

fic type: enemies turned friends, optimist/cynic friends, fluffy, fair bit of dialogue, bit of angsty reflection 

word count: 1.4K

inspo: just my brain wanting to see how coops and lucy lu would interact on more positive terms, but still being very hilariously different characters, also a meme I saw about lucy recognising cooper howard on tv.

cw: first season of fallout spoilers

summary: on their way to an all too well known city in the distance, pursuing lucy's father, the duo take rest for the night, and have their first proper conversation on more friendly terms- though their differences soon show through. 

- °•. ✦ .•° -

A fire is ignited, comfortably tucked a fair few metres inside the mouth of what ten minutes ago had been a nest of radscorpions- and now, was a cosy little den for the two travellers, with a neat supply of crispy, bulging tails to keep their stomachs sated. Two heavy travel packs fell onto the sharp, black assortment of stones lining the floor of the cave- much comfier cushions to rest on after day after day of ceaseless striding. She adjusted the bag and carefully plopped herself down, hands falling askew in her lap with a carelessness she lacked but a few weeks ago. He wouldn't have even stopped in the first place, had he not adapted to the needs of his human travel companion.

Yet as his focus drifted away into the sting of light before them, long adjusted to quiet, wordless nights, she found herself unable to maintain the same still reserve; it started with a leg thumping. He did not move. Then with an innocuous whistling of some patriotic dweller song- he lifted his eyes for a moment, but they soon fell back to their starting position.

Clearing her throat, Lucy decided after a whole five minutes that this silent inaction was too unbearable to continue one moment longer, and finally words burst from her mouth, "So! Las Vegas. Seems like your kind of town." He groaned, scoffed, and waved away her attempt at communication, saying "Just 'cos we're going in the same direction don't mean you gotta try and get all pally with me, sweetie. Sweet jesus...- you vault dwellers are so polite- it's insufferable, you know that?" the words were sharp, but the tone was playful. He had to admit, however much it drove him up the wall at times, the bright-eyed sparky pip in the vault-dweller's step was amusing at the very least, and endearingly hopeful at a push. With a stiff lip and one hand planted against her hip, the girl tried to shrug off the comment with her own retort, "Fine, have it your way. I was just trying to get to know you, since we're going to be together for a while."

"Alright, alright- if it'll stop your lecturing for five fuckin' minutes- what exactly do you wanna know?"

She found herself stumped at this rejoinder- shamefully, she realised that her initial attempt at conversation was a selfish and insincere attempt to broach a silence in the name of social norms- social norms for a vault full of useless sheltered pacifists. She'd learned to try her hardest to find a balance between that vaulted delusion, and the cynical realities of the world above. Taking a minute to actually think back on their ... mixed past interactions, she thought of his recoiling at the site of the vault-tec's icon, the vault boy. He wasn't one to waste his bullets, she knew that for sure. So, losing the chipper persona, her pitch lowered slightly and her stature relaxed, as she once again asked him a question- with sincere intrigue, this time: "How'd your whole vendetta with Vault-Tec start? I mean, clearly you're no Cooper Howard fan." This comment received an abrupt raucous round of laughter from the gunslinger, that she did not quite understand, "Honey, you can't begin to understand how right you are there. As for Vault-tec... well, I'd rather not talk about it."

She made a quick cry of protest, before flinging a radscorpion tail at him in frustration- he wove to the side in time for it to skip across the ground and exit the cave behind, smoothly returning to his former hunched-up position on his travel pack. Before he could begin to argue, she piped up to cut him off, "You just said you'd answer my questions." He barked back, louder, "Well you just opened a can of worms I don't wanna contend with while I'm tryna catch a little break and forget everything for a while. How about we start talkin' bout what you're gonna do when we catch up to your daddy?"

She was the one to remain silent, then. Flashes of a decaying woman reaching out so tenderly to the daughter she hardly got to know, because of Vault-Tec. Bloodied knights in bone-crushing steel-plated power armours, raiders, hunters, her own father- hundreds of people slitting each others throats and putting holes through each other, for the sake of a tiny blue chip with the potential to bring an end to the false necessity for war- she felt as if the man that raised her was but the dying shadow in the horrifying light revealing the man who wrought the destruction of what could've been a peaceful life for her- and stapled open her eyes to the truths of the world without sticking around to help her live in it. Her eyes were brimmed with glitter, glass- but she could not let herself cry right now. She wasn't in the mood for taunting.

Though he tried to fight it, that alien, long-forgotten gnawing of guilt began to creep into his chest- she didn't know. She hardly knew anything at all. Yet, even when he left her to be torn asunder for her parts in exchange for a little bit more time in his 200+ year lifespan, she refused to back down to his level- she chose redemption over retribution. She had been the first person he'd met in these wastelands to bother giving anyone else a second chance- and it was stupid, and it was naive-

but damn it, wasn't it a change?- and, how rare was that in this god-forsaken place?

Now he was the one to awkwardly shuffle his weight from one leg to the other, and after ten minutes of silent preparation and thirty seconds of an inaudible string of curses under his breath, he finally initiated a conversation himself, "I didn't used to be a big, bad meanie you know. I was just a man with a family, before the nukes dropped. Hell, I didn't just buy into the vault-tec gimmick- I lost jobs promoting those fuckers as their front man-" He left, at that moment, a dramatic pause to bask in the slow realisation that dawned upon her as to his identity, "Yep. Not that my career was my biggest worry when the bombs dropped." She doesn't even know where to begin in questioning him with that small snippet of insight- but once again, her mind comes back to his disdain of the vault-tec organisation- and how paradoxical it seemed to her for cooper howard himself from the commercials to have turned against the company she had assumed he worked for, "Not to circle back to the can of worms I opened earlier but- what changed your mind about the vaults?"

A phantom heartache burned into the ghoul's chest at that moment, as that venomous conversation played once more on a loop in his mind ( "a nuclear event would be a tragedy… but also, an opportunity." )-

-it took him longer than he would have liked to be able to compose himself, and go back to playing the loveable rogue, "They wouldn't let me bring my dog into the vault." ("perhaps the greatest opportunity in history.")

Her heart just about burst, unable to contain the unexpected gem of redeemability she had dug out from her former adversary ("because when we are the only ones left, there will be no one to fight.")-

"Awww, you do have a heart under all that... you !-" ("this is our chance to make war obsolete.")-

"-It might not be beating, but now I know it exists at least!" ("because in our current societal configuration, ... we have friction.") He chuckled half-heartedly at the vault dweller's attempt at a witty barb, but his mind had already flown elsewhere as their conversation continued, autonomous hums of interest stepping in to account for his attention disappearing.

 ("We have conflict and we have war.") After a few minutes of rambling, she realised that the conversation had ended a while ago- the genuine sliver of human empathy they shared once again shying away. This time, she found herself content with the silence. She realised, in fact, that she was losing precious time thinking about her future predicament with words that had lost their purpose- She thought she could understand the wastelander's silence ("and war, well... war never changes.").

She couldn't begin to- not quite. Not yet.

Perhaps soon.

#greyfics ✰°.• ➸ [ cooper howard ] #greyfics ✰°.• ➸ [ lucy maclean ] #greyfics ✰°.• ➸ [ fallout ] #greyfics ✰°.• ➸ [ canon + canon ] #cooper howard fanfic #the ghoul fanfic #lucy maclean fanfic #fallout fanfic #fallout tv series fanfic #lucy maclean and the ghoul fanfic #lucy maclean and cooper howard fanfic #fluff #angst #plot hole from fic number one acknowledged and appreciated #when I check through it and edit it up I will thank person who pointed it out hehe #really thought the brotherhood only booed the super-mutants #I really need to replay a fallout game not made before 2000 #and watch the show for a second time even though its only been a week oop

[oneatlatime]

The Winter Solstice Part 1: The Spirit World

I'll be watching this two part episode as two separate episodes.

Starting strong with some stunning pastoral views.

I like how Appa's shadow undulates over the clouds.

Is Aang passively airbending at all times when they're on Appa? Otherwise how do they hear each other? Unless it's a windless day and they're flying at walking pace there's no way they would be able to have a conversation.

Can you imagine the freedom of being able to throw yourself into the air with no consequences? Imagine how being able to ignore gravity since (presumably) a very young age would shape your worldview. Aang must look at the world in a fundamentally different way.

Blow dried Momo.

Could Katara stop babying Aang for five minutes?

The perspective is so funky in this shot that Appa looks Momo sized.

Did Gyatso say that Roku specifically would help Aang? He said that someone in that special room would guide him, but the only living creature in there was Momo.

Emotional support Momo. Maybe the help Gyatso spoke of actually was Momo.

Every time Iroh appears I become increasingly convinced that the creators of this show are fans of The Big Lebowski.

I love Iroh weaponizing teenage awkwardness to get himself five more minutes in the tub. I think I can also now declare myself officially used to Zuko's voice. I no longer find it muppety.

This is the environmentalism after school special.

The way this guy talks about flying Bison and airbender tattoos, is he actually old enough to have known airbenders?

Katara blindly trusts this guy because... he's old?

Pretty.

"It is the greatest honour of a lifetime to be in your presence." "Nice to meet you too." Yep, those greetings are definitely in proportion to each other.

I love the lighting in this scene. Everything has this golden glow.

The winter solstice sounds a bit like Halloween. The walls between worlds thin to almost nothing and things can cross over which shouldn't.

Aang's eyes are brown in this episode.

I love this attitude. Optimistic, upbeat. "I have to try, don't I?" is so true.

Is it just me, or is Sokka's ponytail weird this episode?

I think this is the Bumi guard voice guy again.

This episode appears to be taking place in a part of the Earth Kingdom that hasn't been taken over by the Fire Nation (unlike last episode). So for Zuko & crew, this is enemy territory. Iroh, who is a general with a fancy title, the brother of the leader of the fire nation (so I guess the next in line to the throne?), and so recognisable to the enemy that they can identify him without a single piece of insignia or even clothing denoting his country of origin, thought it would be a good idea idea to have a solo, unguarded spa day here? I bet the fire nation is happy the other brother is the one in charge.

More pretty.

Sokka racking up some major Big Brother points this episode. Aang may be the Avatar, which makes this kind of stuff his responsibility, but he's also 12 and clueless. He shouldn't have to face this alone.

This village must be close to the Avatar world's equator because that sun set ridiculously quickly.

You know, if I turned around and saw that thing following me, my first impulse would be to scream and run away, not introduce myself. This is why I'm not the Avatar.

If that's their water tower gone, this village is done for with or without the Avatar's help.

This spirit is throwing a proper tantrum. I love the way it moves too fast to see. I did not see Sokka getting kidnapped coming. I actually had to rewind and watch it again because it happened so fast that I did not see it at all the first time through.

I think the fire nation solider here is the Bumi guard voice too.

This is an insane shoulder to waist ratio. Also nice to see Zuko figure it out so quickly. This show has given me the impression so far that he's kind of stupid, but I guess not.

It's a panda! Black and White spirit, plus the environmentalism stuff from earlier, I really should have put that together sooner.

"I Failed." yeah you kind of did. So pick yourself up and try again.

Bird horses? Also those earth soldier helmets are probably really effective, but they look so stupid.

Proof that Katara is used to relying on Sokka to do all of her thinking and planning like I said last episode. If Sokka was the one left behind and Katara the one missing, he would not be so passive.

"All I have to do is figure out what I have to do. But once I do that, no problem." Even the most impossible tasks can be broken down into manageable steps. I love Aang's attitude.

It's so painfully in character that what gets Katara out of her funk is looking after someone else.

Where's Momo in all this?

In the spirit world, the avatar is just some guy? Can't bend. So what makes him uniquely qualified to be the guy who deals with spirits?

Dragons can talk with their whiskers. I'm sure I've seen that somewhere before.

Iroh can see stuff in the spirit world? Maybe it's an old people thing?

How stupid are these earthbender guards? Nice call back to the water heating trick. This show is really good at set up and payoff like that.

This dragon is very fluent at talking in pictures. Also the sky in the accelerated days and nights animation is actual live action footage of sky, right?

Earthbenders can skate on their bare feet. That's beyond cool. Imagine having an inborn ability to sock slide at will. I'd never walk anywhere again. Only slide.

Comforting Appa really did get her out of her funk and inspire action. Neat.

Aang and Zuko's stories do intersect this episode after all. Also I had no idea the two parties were this close to each other. Zuko showing this episode that in addition to deductive reasoning, he also has long-distance tracking skills.

I want to visit this village just to see the sunsets in person.

Iroh was right, they were clearly outmatched. These guys are just the worst. They're on a dirt floor in a dirt cave with the advantage of numbers and actual pants, and they still lose. Did Iroh even firebend?

I take back what I said earlier about Iroh being stupid for going off alone in enemy territory. If this is the calibre of soldiers he knew he would possibly run into, then he was perfectly safe all along. Although the last minute rescue from Zuko was a nice touch. Did anyone really believe that he would choose chasing the Avatar over his uncle? I didn't.

I like the creepy spirit whispering at the gate.

Did Katara yelling to Aang attract the spirit's attention to that main building? Because it seemed to be ignoring it before.

Chekov's acorn!

When Aang went to the spirit world, his body stayed behind on the statue's head. But when Sokka went his whole self was stuck there? Also that bathroom joke is payback for all the denied potty breaks.

Sokka's practicality and bluntness is just so perfect this episode. A nice counter balance to the spirity stuff. Just spent 24 hours in the Spirit world? That's nice. Can we have supplies?

Momo's back in these final scenes, but where was he the rest of the episode?

How does Aang know the island is in the fire nation? From the temple architecture?

Final Thoughts

I really like this episode! There is so much that is good: -beautiful visuals (so many sunsets!) -interesting sound design (that whispering was neat, and the single wind chime in the last spirit attack was so eerie) -so many well-executed set ups and payoffs (acorn, firebending heating stuff, how the spirit does relate to the burnt forest from the beginning) -So much good dialogue, from Zuko especially ("Now would you please put on some clothes?!?" / *sniffs* "Yeah, that's Uncle Iroh.") -relationship stuff (Sokka being big brother, Katara being lost without him until someone else needs her to be strong, Aang's relationship to his responsibilities both internally within himself and externally with how the village sees him and what it expects of him, the exasperated teenager and secretly amused parent dynamic between Zuko and Iroh switching flawlessly into a fighting team, then flawlessly back) -Everyone feels in character (optimistic sweetheart Aang, practical protective Sokka, caring Katara, super chill yet super skilled Iroh, Zuko just so fed up with everything) -The humour was downplayed this episode but the few jokes that were there were genuinely funny. Sokka getting hit with the acorn in particular. I'm thinking that there must have been a rule in the writing room that it's not a proper Avatar episode unless Sokka gets to be the butt of the joke at least once. -Zuko and Iroh finally getting fleshed out a bit. I feel like this is the first episode where Zuko hasn't come off as an asshole. -Worldbuilding (this is the first time the avatar's done his job as per the job description) -How it's supposed to be the first half of a two part episode but it doesn't feel like set up at all. It's a self-contained story with actual stakes, a conclusion that matters, lessons learned all around, and ALSO set up for next episode.

Once I had gotten a good look at firebending in the Southern Air Temple episode I started wondering how the fire nation hadn't completely decimated all their enemies. After I saw Bumi's bending skills I understood how the earth kingdom had resisted the fire nation for a century, but Bumi really was the exception to the rule, wasn't he? If these earth kingdom soldiers are typical of the earth kingdom army, I'm going to have to switch back to my original opinion and wonder why the fire nation didn't win the war 85 years ago. Because these guys are bad. They are surrounded by their element. Their prisoner is standing on their element. Just make the ground grab his feet! He'll be a sitting duck and they'll be able to do whatever they want to him. Better yet, just bury him completely. Or make handcuffs out of rock instead of metal. That being said, the soldiers' stupidity set up a really cool fight scene. How did Zuko not break his foot with that kick?

Everything is woven together so well in this episode. Almost nothing feels contrived - you can't tell me that Zuko didn't wait behind a bush somewhere so he could time his rescue of Iroh to have maximum drama. But otherwise this episode feels organic - like we were actually watching a couple of days in the life of these people.

I really liked this one.

#atla #avatar: the last airbender #the spirit world #avatar the last airbender

[boygiwrites]

Harley D. Dixon 15

An amazing edit inspired by this story! (Cred to Cora_Line99) Harley D. Dixon's Pinterest Board! Harley D. Dixon's Playlist!

📖Chapter List.

Author's Note. As usual, please enjoy reading, everyone :) <3

Title might give it away, but we've all been waiting for this chapter winky wink

"How long's this girl been lost, exactly?"

"This'll be day five, now."

This'll be day three of my Dad bein' unconscious, I muse to myself solemnly, sitting nearby. It's the next morning, now, and with Dad's treatment more promising and Glenn taking iron supplements to help replace all the nutrients he lost from the blood he gave, people have decided that it's time to resume the search for Sophia. It's not gonna be an easy task, no matter how you spin it. By now, she could be anywhere. If I had five days to walk anywhere in the world, I could be halfway across the country already.

As I watch a brown butterfly flitter elegantly along the edge of the truck bed, lost in thought, Rick smooths a map out across the hood.

"Country survey map." He announces. "It shows terrains and elevations for fifty miles. We'll grid the whole area; search in teams."

"Finally get this thing organized." Dale hums, nodding.

"So far, we've covered this lower region, here, all the way up to this part of the river." Rick drags a finger this way and that over the page. "This is 'round about where we found Harley, down by this slope. Carol said Harley told her she followed this whole bit here and found Sophia's doll somewhere close by. Maybe around this part, here. Between everything that's been goin' on, we haven't gotten a chance to check it out until now, but I'm thinking we start today. Should take about a couple hours to cover, I reckon, with two people."

"And who are you suggesting goes with you?"

"I was thinkin' Glenn, but he needs rest. How 'boutchu, Shane?"

Shane, who's been mostly staring at the grass this whole conversation, looks up.

"Nah." He shakes his head. "My ankle's still pretty busted, man. Best if I hang back on this one."

"Okay, sure."

"Looks like it's just you, then, Rick." Herschel says.

The butterfly chooses this moment to fly away, leading my gaze up, and then onto Shane. His ankle's fit as a damn fiddle. I saw him doin' push ups this morning, but I don't say nothin'. He's been hovering around me since yesterday afternoon like a little insect that I just can't shake, staring at me, pokin' around. Something about Rick's return with the supplies seems to have affected him in a way I can't place.

Few days ago, I would've felt so safe having Shane this close to me, but now I know that's like a bunny feelin' safe around a coyote.

"Actually," Rick butts in, "Harley?"

I snap out of it, suddenly, meeting his eyes.

"Yeah?"

"You wanna come with me?"

"Huh?"

I didn't expect him to ask me that, of all things.

"I could use your help, y'know." He adds. "You'd recognise more of those woods than any of us will."

"That's a good idea." Dale agrees aloud, mainly just for the sake of convincing me. "Doctor, you think she's good to do some exploring?"

"As long as she doesn't put too much strain on those stitches," Herschel nods, "I don't see why not."

"Perfect. What do you say?"

Wow. They really wanna get me outta here today. I guess a few hours away from the house won't be so bad. I'm sick'a Shane breathin' down my neck, anyways.

"Okay," I eventually decide, "I'll go."

Shane suddenly looks like he's regretting his decision to stay here.

"Attagirl. You don't need t'be cooped up in that room, worrying all day." Rick smiles. "Your Dad might even be awake, time we get back. You wanna go getcher hat?"

Dale nods. "Hot out."

"Okay. I think I left it by the well when I was playin' this morning."

"Go take a look, then."

Herschel and Dale help me hop off the truck.

"We'll leave in five minutes, okay, Harley?"

"Okay!"

I make it across the dry field, where Carl is peering down into the pit of the water well.

"Hey, Carl," I say, approaching. "You seen my hat 'round here?"

"Harley! C'mere!"

"What is it?"

"Down here. Look." He leans over the cobbled wall, and I follow his pointing finger into the stinky, murky depths below. "You see it?"

I don't, at first, but then I get a whole big whiff of rotting meat and dead insect-mush, and I make out somethin' moving around down there in the dark, which makes me squeak a little in disgust. Might be an ogre down there. Ogres are gross. I saw in a movie that they pick their noses.

"Hell's that?" I ask, scrunching my nose. "Stinks."

"A walker, I think."

"A walker?!"

There it is. I see it, now. Those shiny things are slippery limbs, and those lumpy ones are big, gross pustules.

I cringe loudly. "Eugh!"

"I know, right?" Carl exclaims, somewhat excitedly. "I think it fell in somehow."

"Well, we best not mess with it."

He straightens, only now registering why I'm over here. "Wait, where are you going if you need your hat? You wanna play tag again?"

"No. I can't. Your Dad's takin' me out to look for Sophia."

He looks confused.

"What? Not Shane?"

I make a face. "No. He's stayin'."

"Aw, man. Why didn't Dad ask me?"

"I'on know."

"Well, can I come, too?"

"No, Carl."

We both spin around to face Rick, who holds up my flimsy green bucket hat in the air as he approaches.

"It's just me and Harley today. Sorry."

When he's close enough, he fixes the hat onto my head.

"You found it?"

He nods.

Carl whines. "Why can't I come, too, Dad?"

He helps me drag the little bauble of the jaw-string all the way up under my chin, since it's kinda tough to do with little hands.

"Harley's goin' through a bit of a tough time right now, Carl. She could use some time away from the house. You're good right here."

Carl pouts.

"Besides," Rick shrugs, "Who's gonna protect this place while we're away?"

He rolls his eyes. "Be serious."

"I am serious."

"No, you're not. Dale's the one who keeps watch. Not me."

"Well, how 'bout you go ask him if you can join him today, huh?"

His eyes widen. "Really?"

"Yeah. I'm sure he'd appreciate that."

As Rick stands up, Carl considers the offer.

"Yeah, okay. I'll do it." He sticks up a finger. "But only if I get a gun."

"Woah. No, no, no. One step at a time, okay?" He laughs, nodding me back toward the gate. "Come on, Harley. We're goin', now."

Carl stomps his foot.

"But, Dad!"

"No. Go ask your mother!"

I can't help but snicker. Poor Carl.

"I can still be useful, you know. It's never stopped me before."

When we make it back to the main gate, where a few of our group are waiting to send us off, we walk into a small argument between Herschel and Shane. We stay out of it for the most part as Andrea hands Rick a backpack filled with useful supplies and one of our rifles.

"You push your ankle now," Herschel warns, "You'll be laid up in bed for a month, no good to anybody. I thought I made that clear."

"You did." Shane nods, playing along to get what he wants, "But I just feel like they could use an extra pair of eyes out there, that's all."

Rick raises a brow. "Thought you said you would hang back."

"Well, compared to what Harley's got, this is nothin'. Just a... a damn twist." He laughs it off. "Should be fine."

"I'm not comfortable with that." Rick firmly states, going back to loading the gun.

Shane just stares at him, annoyed with this conclusion.

"How about you take the car?" Herschel suggests. "It's better than walking. You can head back to the interstate; search for Sophia that way."

He sighs. "Yep. Yeah, okay. That's fine."

"Alright, then. And remember, no guns on my property."

Rick nods. "Loud and clear. We're guests here. We understand."

"Cute hat." Maggie grins, pinching the brim.

I giggle. "Thanks."

"Okay. We're off." Rick slings the bag over his shoulder. "If we're not back by dark, start worrying."

"Sure thing." Andrea smacks his shoulder. "Be safe."

Lori gives his cheek a kiss.

"Look after her, and be careful."

He smiles, nodding as Maggie opens the gate for us. "I will."

Even when we make it all the way to the treeline, I can still tell that Shane is pissed.

"Step over this rock, here. You got it?"

"Yeah."

"There we go. Nothin' stops you, does it?"

"Nope."

"Thought so."

Hiking with Rick ain't all that bad. We make our way into the woods, trailing the creek together for about an hour, before I start to recognise some of the oddly shaped tree trunks, mushroom clusters, and peculiar boulders out here. It reminds me a little of hiking with my Dad, especially when Rick stops to make me drink some water every once in a while, or tells me to watch out for a hole or snag in the ground. I never thought Rick could be like this, but he is a Dad, after all. He's got Carl. Everything I've found Shane's tried to do with me, Rick does it a hundred times more naturally.

He doesn't even make me uncomfortable when he does it, neither. It's almost like this is what it's meant to feel like, all this time.

"Good to be away from the farm for a bit, ain't it?" He muses, avoiding saying, away from Shane.

Up ahead, I notice a log caught in the stream.

"Hey, Rick."

"Yeah, Harley?"

"I saw this." Some frogs hop into the water when we reach it. "Yeah. This is where I found Matilda. She was in the water, right here."

He glances at me.

"Who?"

"Matilda." I repeat. "Sophia's doll."

"Oh. Right. Yeah. I knew that was her name."

"Did ya, really?"

"Not a clue. Let's look around a bit, huh?"

We spend some time combing the dirt and mud near the creek for tracks, but most of the imprints we uncover either belong to woodland animals, thirsty birds, or me, from when I was lost. We can tell 'cause when I step on 'em, the size and patterns are a perfect match to my boots. Just by pure luck, we eventually find some different, slightly bigger markings that could belong to Sophia, hiding under leaves.

We follow them into the trees.

I feel bad for not doin' this the day I came across the doll. If I did, we might've found her by now.

As we walk, I think more about Shane, and how Carl got made to stay behind today, even though he's older, and he ain't even hurt.

"How come you didn't bring Carl with us?"

Rick looks back at me.

"I just thought you could use some time away from everybody; get your mind off everythin' for a while, that's all."

"But you could'a done that without takin' me out here. Maggie did. We went peach pickin' in the orchard yesterday."

"I know." Rick sighs, reluctant to elaborate.

"But?"

"Well... One difference between the orchard and these woods is that there ain't no way for Shane to bug you out here like he can back there."

I almost trip over a pebble, but I save myself just in time.

"Soon as he brought up that ankle of his, I thought it would be a good opportunity." He raises a brow. "You know, don't think I haven't noticed all'a this. Not just the recent staring and the... the whatever-else he's been doin', but something's been goin' on there for quite some time now, I think. Maybe even before the CDC. I don't know. Whatever it is, I wanted you away from it for a few hours."

I always knew Rick was sorta smart, but I guess he's been paying more attention than I thought.

I don't say nothin', so he prompts, "Am I right?"

Yes, he's right. I wish he wasn't, but I can't change things like that.

"Yeah." I awkwardly shrug. "I guess."

"Care to clue me in?"

"Not really."

"Your Dad said the same thing when I brought it up with him. What? Is it some deep, dark, Dixon secret I'm not allowed in on?"

I giggle a little. "No. Not that."

"Then, what is it?"

"I don't know. A different type of secret."

"And what type is that?"

"A..." I put some thought into it. "It's a big secret."

He glances at me again.

If he's having a hard time navigating this, or he's feeling uncomfortable, then he's not letting on at all. In fact, I think he planned this.

"A big secret, hm?" He muses casually. "What makes it so big?"

"Because if I tell you even a little, tiny bit of it, then you'll need to know the whole thing, and I'm not allowed to tell you that."

"No? How about you try?"

"What? Tell you a little, tiny bit?"

"Just a little, tiny bit."

Something tells me no matter what I say, Rick's hanging on my every word and he's gonna remember 'em. I guess this is it, then — The moment I finally tell someone. His back is turned to me, walking just a couple feet ahead, which makes it much easier to treat this like it's nothin'. Wonder if he's doin' it on purpose. I never imagined it would be him I'd talk to about this, but here I am, anyway.

Okay. Just a little, tiny bit. Here I go.

"I think Shane did something really, really, bad."

I wish I could see Rick's face.

Unconfident, I stammer, "There you go. That's a little, tiny bit."

I think Shane tried to murder my Dad. I think he shot him. He shot him for beating on me, but that's another little, tiny bit for another day.

"Okay." Rick says, like he's digesting everything he's thinking; everything he's assuming, concluding, planning. He nods. "Okay."

Shane did something really, really bad, and so did my Dad, and so did I.

"Can I ask you one more question, though, Harley?"

"Yeah?"

"What would happen if you told me the whole secret?"

Oh, that's easy.

"Something even worse would happen."

We make it to a church.

An old, knobbly tree leans over the side of it.

"This the one?"

"Sure is."

When I told 'em about the faint ringing of church bells I heard that day, they explained that there really was a church out here, and that they even stopped at it for a while that afternoon, thinking one of us girls must've been causing the noise, but we weren't. The sound is on a timer.

The door creeks sorely as we step inside, immediately struck by a wall of pure dust and the smell of mothballs.

"Pleh." I mutter.

With a quick look around the barren room, it's obvious that Sophia isn't here.

Never one to be discouraged easily, Rick sets the bag down on one of the wooden benches, and gestures for me to take a seat.

"Trail ends here, I suppose. Maybe we can pick it up again later." He sighs, passing me a cloth filled with pear slices. "You gettin' tired, yet?"

"Not so much. Sittin' on this bench-thing is helpin', though."

He chuckles, "You mean a pew?" 

"Pew?" I exclaim. "Pew, as in, like, a gun? Goin' pew-pew?"

"Exactly like that."

"Weird. Why not just call 'em benches?"

"'Cause churches like to be fancy."

"Well, I ain't fancy."

"Nobody is, anymore. Except maybe Herschel."

He settles down beside me on the pew, and we take a short lunch break together. I unwrap the fruit and begin eating the slender pieces of fresh pear, which are kinda warm from sitting in the backpack all morning — Ew — while Rick snacks on his slightly lesser portion. I look around the church. It's much smaller than the one from our hometown. Ours had a classroom and a foyer and everything, but this one's more like a really big, dirty bedroom.

"Did you ever go to church?" I ask Rick, for no reason other than I want to. "Back when you could?"

"Sometimes," He answers, "But not always."

"We did. They used to give out free stuff. Every time we went, Dad was sure they was gonna tell us we had to leave, but it never happened."

"Did you enjoy going?"

"No... The other kids were always lookin' at us funny."

He smiles sadly. Then he says, "Carl didn't like going, either. He hated having to dress up."

"Did he ever pray?"

"Not really, no. I don't think he believes in all of that."

I don't know what someone like Carl would need to pray for. I bet he had a whole heap of toys, and all the friends he could ever want.

Rick catches me staring at the statue of Jesus at the head of the room, a dull hunk of wood more than anything, lent a pretty, fractured spotlight by the stained window behind it. Carol told me she prayed here, for me and Sophia to be found. She said she convinced my Dad to pray, as well.

"Do you think he's lookin' after everybody?" I ask. "That's what they say, ain't it? Up in heaven?"

"I like to think so. It's a nice thought."

Sophia might be there already. That's a not-so-nice thought.

"Morales, I reckon he's in heaven, 'cause he lent me his toothpaste tube one time."

Rick chuckles. "Yeah. He was a good man."

"And our dog, Tank. He's in heaven, too. I know so, 'cause the vet sent us a letter sayin' he was, after he died."

"Did they?"

"Yep. I don't get how they found out, but that's where he is."

"Must be. All pets go to heaven, you know that?"

"Not all people, though."

"No. No, not all people."

My Uncle Merle's gotta be in Hell, if he's anywhere. I love him, but just 'cause you love someone, it don't make 'em a saint. Uncle Merle used to kick Tank, sometimes. He enjoyed tricking people for money, and he was in jail a lotta the time. I remember one time he was there for somethin' so bad my Dad had to sell his guitar and the TV so he could pay to let him out. I was real mad when he got home.

You ain't happy to see your old Uncle Merle, baby?

No. I ain't got no cartoons no more 'cause of you.

Aw. Sappy little thing, ain't ya? Always told you, you're too soft on her, Darylina.

Rick can tell what I'm thinkin', 'cause it weren't no secret back then that my Uncle wasn't anybody's favorite person in camp.

"I told you before," He takes a chance at saying, "But I'll say it again. I'm very sorry for what happened to your Uncle."

A long time ago, I would've gotten angry at that, but there's not much of that left in me, anymore.

"It's okay." I utter, pleased with how good it feels to say; with how two words can take two tonnes off both my shoulders.

He smiles fondly. "You're not gonna wish death on me, this time?"

"This is a church." I scoff. "I can't do that."

"I won't push my luck, then."

"I'll take some of your pear, though."

"Okay, there. Now you're pushin' your luck."

"Not even half a slice?"

"Fat chance, Dixon."

When we've packed up and are just about to head back out into the sun, I take a last look at the statue.

"You got somethin' you wanna say to him?" Rick suggests.

"Yeah." I decide, and then I shout loudly, "You best wake my Daddy up soon, you sum' bitch!"

A rat scuttles away under the floorboards at my sheer volume.

"Okay." Rick ushers me out the door, trying not to snicker. "Come on, now."

"I got shot in the stomach, too, once. Did you know that?"

I glance at Rick as we step over a rock, sceptical. No, I didn't know that.

"Did ya? When?"

"About a week before I turned up at the quarry." He tells me. "It was a work accident. Put me in a coma for quite a while."

I was too busy hating everybody — hating Rick, especially — to ever really ask about what happened before that day, but there's my answer.

"Don't need to ask if you survived, then, I guess."

"I guess not." He smiles. "No, I'm still kickin'."

"You think that'll happen with my Dad?"

"I'm sure of it."

For once, I want my Dad to be a little like Rick, the man I used to want dead.

When we break through the treeline some hours later, we see Jacqui at the top of the hill, waving her arms around.

"What's she shoutin'?"

"I don't know."

Rick starts jogging forward on instinct, pulling me closer with one hand and grabbing his revolver with the other.

"What?" He shouts back, shaking his head. "What is it? What's goin' on?"

She calls out once more, and this time, her words are clear.

"Harley! Get over here! Your Dad woke up!"

Rick stops running all at once.

We look at each other, astonished, until I start to let the realization sink in, and my eyes well up.

"Go on, then." He nods, excited for me. "Go, go, go. Get up there."

I turn, running all the way to Jacqui.

"When?" I ask. "When?"

She grabs my hand. "About twenty minutes ago."

"Is he okay?!"

We hurry toward the house together, setting off small droves of orange and brown butterflies that were resting in the grass.

"He's okay." She grins. "Threatened to burn the whole farm down if I didn't bring you to him right away, though! C'mon!"

"Dad!!"

I race up the porch steps, squealing.

"Daddy!!"

The door to the Greene house almost falls off its hinges when I push past it. It smacks into the wall with a loud, loud bang, and the next door that stands in my way receives the same treatment. If I burst holes into the plaster, I'll just have to apologise to the Greenes later. As soon as I see my Dad — Awake and breathing, and even sitting up a little in the bed — I throw myself onto him with the force of a thousand lifetimes. He tries to say my name, but grunts when he catches me. He recovers from the pain almost immediately, wrapping me up in the biggest darn hug he's ever given me. All them times I ever waited for him to come pick me up from school, or I thought he didn't turn up for one of my tournaments — That's nothin' compared to this moment. I thought he was dead. Dead and gone, forever, but he's not. Glenn, Rick, and Andrea saved him.

They got me my Dad back.

I sob like I've never sobbed before, overcome with relief that consumes me like a tidal wave, hiccing, moaning, coughing into his shoulder.

I can't believe it.

"He's awake?" I hear Rick asking in the foyer, panting slightly from the walk up the hill. "He's alright?"

"He's going to be sore," Herschel answers, "But yes, he's alive."

"He woke up?" Shane asks, sounding almost offended.

"Yes. Seems those supplies really helped."

My Dad buries his face into my neck, shushing me gently as he soothes my back.

"Dad." I bawl, like he's about to leave me again at any moment, and I have to will him back into my arms. "Daddy-y-y-y."

"Shh, sh, sh, baby." His voice is hoarse in my ear, but it's the best sound I ever heard. "Daddy's here, baby. I'm okay. I'm okay."

I just keep wailing it over and over again until he's crying, too.

"Daddy's here, baby." He shudders, then, mutters, fuck, in embarrassment. "I— I'm here, baby. I'm here. Lemme get a look atchu, huh?"

He pulls back with a kiss to my cheek, steadying me with both his hands.

"You hurtin' bad, still?" He asks. "Your stitches?"

"I thought you was dead, Dad."

His chin crumples ever so slightly as he looks at me, and then wordlessly, he embraces me again. I'm cocooned tightly in both his arms, my ear pressed up against the faint buh-boom buh-boom of his heart. He lays back into the pillows, taking me with him, shushing me some more. I should be a little more embarrassed about how hard I'm crying, but he don't mention it.

If there was ever a time I'm allowed to cry, it's now.

The IV tube gets tangled up a bit, and I think I'm hurting him, but it just makes him chuckle between tears.

"Careful, chicken." He sniffs. "You're gonna— Gonna mess me up, here, in a second."

Herschel comes in to fix it up a bit.

"I'on know what the fuck this is. Sorry." Dad mutters as he tries to help him, clumsily de-tangling all the equipment. "Here. I'on know."

"Gave your little one quite the scare." Herschel smiles over the sound of my ear-piercing cries. "Gave us all quite a scare, I think."

"You're Herschel, right?"

"Yes. Herschel Greene. This is my farm you're sat up in. Did Glenn tell you everything?"

He nods. "Think I owe you my life, if I heard right."

"Well, it wasn't your ears that got damaged in the accident, young man."

"Da-a-a-ad!"

He turns his attention back onto me at an especially pained sob.

"Shhhh. It's okay." He jokes, "I'm right here, girl."

That makes Herschel chuckle. "I'll give you two a moment, then."

Dad lets me cry as much as I want in the privacy of this little room. He smooths down my hair, tucks it behind my ears, plays with it, kisses my scalp, all the while murmuring sh, sh, sh, like I'm a newborn baby needing coddled. I let him rock me side to side. I let him hum little tunes to me quietly, and smack firm but soothing pats through the back of my shorts. After what feels like forever, I calm down, reduced to whimpers.

"You know, I thought I told you not to go nowhere." He tries making me laugh, cradling my face as I look up at him. "Remember?"

"Shut up." I complain, struggling to breathe properly. "You al-al-almost died."

"I know, baby. I'm sorry."

"Every morning, I was so scared you wouldn't be breathin', no more. I had to check."

"Everybody take good care'a ya?" He asks. "Nobody needs a whooping?"

"Maybe T-Dog." I sniff, playing with his chain necklace. "He ate all the pretzels."

"Did he, now?"

"Yeah."

"When I'm all better, I'll sort him out for ya, then."

"Uh-huh." I mumble. "You better."

I can only hold back on asking the question I've been wanting to ask him since the moment I heard that gunshot for so long.

"Daddy, what happened out there?"

He pauses for a moment. I expect him to rat Shane out without a moment's hesitation; to get angry, to want justice. But that's not what happens. He doesn't swear, or shout, or even get that little, glinting look of fire in his eyes. It seems to have fizzled out, somehow, leaving only a wispy hint of what used to burn there so violently and for so long. It's strange to me, this tranquillity. It's like a biting dog that's given up his tricks.

"Baby," He sighs, stroking my cheek fleetingly. "How much you figured out?"

I've figured out lots of things in the past month — Enough for a lifetime.

I've figured out that being beaten by your Dad is wrong, but only to some people, and only if they happen to walk in on it. I've also learnt how to think for myself, a lesson taught by someone who promised I could trust him but ended up just another liar. I've learnt the feeling of a kill; the name for benches in a church. I've learnt my Dad is two people at once, like a mirror with a hidden edge. He's him, but he's all the men that came before him, too, all echoing their last laugh through a swing of his fists. I've learnt that loving your family above all else is a hereditary disease.

"Almost all of it." I settle on saying, thinking of all the things life has yet to throw at me. "Almost all of it."

He chews his bottom lip. Then, he pinches my cheek.

"You're my smart girl, huh?"

I smile under the weight of everything.

"Well, one thing at a time. Your old man can't hardly keep up." He lowers his hand, returning my faint smile. "For starters, it was Shane that shot me." I feel like I've been slapped. "I don't know what he's told you, or... or y'know, what yarn he's been spinnin', but it was him."

"Wh-Where? How?"

"I left that day to look for Jim. I didn't tell nobody where I was goin', 'cause I was— I was gonna kill him, baby." It's a tough thing to admit, but it's nothing I ain't heard before. When they first told me Ronnie was dead, and that my Daddy killed him, all I wanted to know was when I could see him again. "I's gonna ask you where his camp was that day, but seein' yer— yer little face, all fuckin' sun-burnt an'— I'on know. Plan changed. I asked Shane instead. And uh... Some walkin', I almost made it. I knew he was followin' me. He walks loud as Hell. Like a fuckin' Yeti."

I giggle. Shane don't got my Dad's finesse when it comes to slinking through the woods.

"I guess I's kinda hopin' he'd..." He takes a deep breath. I wait patiently for him to continue. "Anyway, he did."

"You lured him."

"Yeah. I walked 'bout two hours out before... 'fore I knew I'd waited long enough nobody would find us straight away, and then I spun around, and I tackled him to the ground. I could'a shot him, point-blank, but I wanted it to... W— I wanted it to hurt."

"'Cause he's a bastard cop?"

He falters when I ask this, pinching the bridge of his nose, like this is physically hard for him to get through.

He finds the courage to look at me again. "Yes, Harley, 'cause he's a bastard cop. 'Cause he made things difficult for us, and I wanted him to suffer for it. I got his nose again; fucked his ribs up. I was about to shoot him in the brains when he snatched the glock off me."

"And then he—?"

"Then he shot me."

"And... you didn't get anywhere near Jim's camp? You didn't see him?"

"That what he told you?"

"He said you got into a squabble wit' Jim, and that he shot you, 'cause he was mad about bein' left behind. But at first, he said it was Otis."

"Who the Hell's Otis?"

"He was a man that lived here. He was a hunter, like you. They said he mistook you for a deer, or sum', while he was out there."

Recognition washes over him. "Chubby fella?"

"You see him?"

"Yeah. Gunshot drew him over to us. I guess he was out huntin', then, like they say. Shane was gonna leave me there to bleed out, but with this guy fussin' all over us, that weren't really an option, no more, so he made up some fuckin' fairytale about how it was an accident, and he was new to the group an' they'd never take him back if they found out, and he pressured him into takin' the fall for him. I passed out 'round 'bout then."

"Why ain't he just own up to it? Tell everybody he shot you, plain an' simple?"

"'Cause you wouldn't wanna keep bein' his friend if you found out."

My skin goes cold. "You know about that?"

"Yeah, baby. I know. He rubbed in my face so much I ain't never gon' forget it."

He must see my lip wobble, and the way I'm too scared to even blink, 'cause he gives my hair a kiss. I've been dreading this moment ever since I told Shane, Fine, I'll be your friend, and now I've finally been found out. I'm a liar. I betrayed my Dad. Oh, he's gonna pull his belt out right now.

"I'm sorry, Dad." I shake my head, already pulling away, trying to stop what's to come. "Please, Dad. I'm sorry."

"Harley—"

"He tricked me. He made it seem li-like I had to be his friend. I didn't want to, I swear. He j— He just said a whole bunch'a things, and then—"

"Harley, baby, I ain't mad."

"And he— He—? What?"

"I ain't mad." He repeats himself, raising his brows. "I ain't."

"W—?"

This is like finding out the Earth is flat, or the sun is a square.

"I promise you, baby, I ain't mad at you for that. Not even a little bit. Never, ever." He promises, grabbing my shaking hand. "That man, he's... It ain't your fault. Might feel like it is, but it ain't. Nothin' he says or does is your fault. I should'a ended this shit a long time ago. You shouldn't even have to worry 'bout things like this, Harley. You can be friends with whoever you like. Don't fuckin' matter what I say. Don't listen t'me."

Don't—? Don't listen to me?

"Dad—?"

"I know." He says. "Just... I know. Sometimes Dad says confusin' shit, don't he?"

I nod vigorously.

"Well, I mean it. How am I supposed t'be mad atchu for just doin' what you're told? The way I raised you, ain't it?"

"Yeah, but... I mean, you hate cops."

"For a long time, yeah. Every time I watched 'em drag your Uncle Merle away, I hated 'em a little more'un the last time. They ain't very nice in prison, neither. Lots of rules. They got power over you in there. Makes 'em turn into assholes. But that's me, baby. My bullshit is my bullshit to handle, and Shane — Leave him to me, too. Askin' to be your friend an' shit, that's sum' wrong wit' him. Not you. Not your bullshit."

"If I told you this, like, a week ago, you would'a..."

You would'a beat me.

The unspoken words hang pungent in the air, weighing down on him.

"I—" He clears his throat; sighs deep, and hard. He mutters, "I— I probably would'a, yeah."

I've never seen him talk this away about a beating. He was never proud of it or nothing, but he was never proud about washing dishes, either.

It was just a part of life, but for now, I guess, it's not.

"So... you're not mad?"

"No, sweet girl, I'm not. C'mere."

I lay back down on his chest.

"I knew it was Shane," I murmur against him, "'cause the bullet was round."

"They took it outta me, huh?"

"It was real scary. You wanna hear the whole story?"

"Yeah, baby. I'm all ears."

I tell him about the gunshot, and Maggie on the horse, and how Shane and Otis went out for emergency supplies, but one came back empty-handed, and the other didn't come back at all. I tell him about the night of the surgery, and the funeral. I tell him about the chickens, too.

"They got eggs here, Dad. Lots of 'em. Scrambled, too." I smile. "You're gonna love it."

"Haven't had an egg breakfast in months."

We used to go to the diner, sometimes, and get eggs on toast when Merle wasn't around. Those were the best days of the week.

"They don't burn 'em here or nothin'."

He chuckles. "What 'bout two-dollar coffee? They got that here, too?"

"Only if you wanna fight for the last of the coffee beans."

"It's on." He scoffs. "I could use some good coffee right about now."

"You tired?"

"Baby, I'm exhausted." He smiles. "Keep talkin', though. I wanna hear everythin'."

"Okay. You wanna hear about the walker me and Carl found in the well?"

"The what?"

Herschel comes back in a while later to perform a check-up.

He's an animal doctor, but he's still got a real stethoscope hanging around his neck, and a little light he can shine in my Dad's pupils. I hold his hand as Herschel checks over the IV, the baggie of donor blood, and the smaller scrapes and bruises all over Dad's neck and face.

"Looks like you got into a brawl with a bear." He comments, dabbing his slashed brow with a cotton pad. "This'll sting a little bit."

He hisses. "Weren't so far off as you'd imagine."

Herschel drops the wad into the tin tray. "That about does it for now, I think."

"When can I get outta this bed?"

"When you're better." He deadpans, packing up. "Which should be in about a week. Walking, I'd say, would be reasonable in one or two days."

Dad glances at me, unimpressed.

"Doctor's orders." I shrug.

"Listen to my best patient's advice, Mister Dixon." Herschel smiles. "There's a reason her wound's healed up so nicely."

"I'm guessin' it ain't the fishin' line."

"No." The med-kit clicks shut. "It's not the fishing line."

"I can play outside with Carl, now." I tell Dad, proud. "I been takin' it slow. You gotta, too."

He kisses my knuckles, too tired to answer, but agreeing.

As he's about to leave, Herschel notices something on the ground by his feet, and bends to pick it up.

"Is this yours, Harley?"

He holds it up.

Much to my discomfort, it's the shredded get well soon card.

"Yeah." I take the piece he hands to me, confronted by its obnoxious colors. "It was meant to be a card. Not lookin' so good, now, though."

"Lemme see it."

Reluctantly, I angle it so my Dad can take a look.

"It's just a corner." I murmur. "I ripped up the rest of it."

"That looks real pretty, baby. You made it for me?"

"I don't know..." I muse, unsure. "Shane kinda helped me with it."

"That why you ripped it?"

"Yeah. I was angry at him. I didn't wanna look at it, no more."

"Well, I do." Dad squeezes my hand. "How 'boutchu make me another one?"

"But you're all better, now."

"I don't know about that." Herschel chuckles. "It'll be a while before he's one hundred percent again."

I consider this. "How about I just draw you a picture this time?"

"Sure. Draw me anythin' you want."

"I'll get you some crayons and paper." Herschel offers, stepping out the door. "I'll be back in a moment."

"Good to see you awake, man."

T-Dog, along with Rick and Glenn, walks into the room while I'm leaning against my Dad's side, working on the drawing set up in my lap. I got a clipboard to lean against, and a whole bunch of different colored crayons to use. Rick sits in the bay window, near Glenn, who rests in the rocking chair in the corner. T-Dog smacks Dad's shoulder.

"Thanks." Dad nods, joking, "What's this I hear 'boutchu eatin' all the pretzels, though?"

T-Dog laughs, leaning against the wall. "Girl, you snitched on me about that?"

Swallowing down a giggle, I just send him a cheeky glance.

"Whatever, man. Lock me up, then."

"I think I still got my handcuffs in the back'a our car." Rick offers, mock-serious. "I can go get 'em right now."

Glenn interjects. "Woah, woah, woah. Innocent until proven guilty, guys."

"He told me he ate 'em all." I butt in. "That's proof."

"Verdict's in, then, buddy." Dad shrugs.

"I ain't never delved into all'at court stuff or nothin'," T-Dog holds his hands up, "But I'm pretty sure that's hearsay."

Rick shakes his head, changing the subject.

"How you feelin', Daryl?"

"Sore. Stiff. Like shit."

"Gettin' shot in the stomach will do that to you."

"It's a miracle you survived." Glenn adds. "You lost a lot of blood. Thirty percent, I'm sure Herschel said. Something like that."

"You said you been givin' me yours, didn't ya?"

"Yeah. We weren't sure about anybody else's types, so we had to make do with what we had."

"I got Chinaman-blood runnin' through my veins." Dad laughs. "Hell's that mean for me, now?"

Glenn scoffs. "That you're slightly less of an idiot."

"Man, it's prolly true." T-Dog snickers. "What's the capitol of Russia?"

Dad sticks up his middle finger.

"What about you, Harley?" Glenn asks. "How's your side doing?"

I look up from the paper, where so far, I've drawn some spikey, green grass and colored in half the sky.

"It's a little better." I smile. "Y'know, I'm sorry for yellin' at you yesterday."

"It's okay. Don't worry about it."

T-Dog tsks, "What was all that about, anyway? What's up with Shane lately?"

"Maybe he's just feeling guilty about Otis." Glenn suggests.

"He's got a whole long list of things to feel guilty about." Dad says with distaste. "You wanna know who exactly it was that shot me?"

"No way."

Rick sighs. "I had a feeling."

"Why'd he go and do a thing like that?" T-Dog questions.

"'Cause he's off his fuckin' rocker, that's why." He retorts. "He hated my guts, so he went and shot 'em."

"Man, you think—? You think he left those supplies on purpose, then?"

I never thought of that. It would just add another layer of horror to that night.

"That poor guy Otis, man."

"Nothin' we can do about it, now. 'Less you think he's gonna do somethin' like this again, Daryl?"

He shrugs. "I'on know. Wouldn't put it past him."

"For now, I wanna keep this sorta thing to a minimum. I'm gonna ask Herschel again today about our arrangements here."

"We're only staying a week or two, right?" I pout.

"Until we find Sophia." Rick tries to smile. "But I'm gonna try change his mind."

"You still ain't find her?"

"No. Harley found her doll, but that's about it. We're gonna start grid-searching properly tomorrow."

I look back down at the page again, sad.

"Drawing done, now, chicken?" Dad asks, trying to lighten my mood a little. "Wanna show it?"

Nodding, I grab the sketch pad and turn it around so that they can all see. It's done. I drew me and my Dad in a field of flowers, but we're not holdin' hands or nothin' — We're killing walkers together. I don't think I got the crossbow exactly right, but I tried my hardest.

Dad laughs. "It's perfect, baby. That me?"

"Yeah. And me. That's the sun, and flowers, and a dead walker right there."

"Badass." Glenn approves.

"What that thing in the background?" Rick asks.

"Oh," I happily answer, "That's Dale. He's so scared, he ran away, and now he's just a little dot."

They all chuckle to themselves.

T-Dog offers to sit it on the chest of drawers, and it stands anew against a vase of real flowers, looking like it's belonged there all along.

Author's Note.

Finished this chapter at 5:49 AM 😣 Uuuuuuuuugh

Long author's rant below.

I got a comment the other day about how Shane was being really annoying, and I sort of agree. At first, I actually felt that way about Daryl, but now he's shown regret and apologized, and Shane's still a raging asshole set on taking Harley for himself. I guess he has good motives? Or HAD, at least... considering they've shifted from wanting to help her out a dangerous situation, to now being selfish. Then again... if I walked in on a man about to hit his 8 yr old daughter, I'd go apeshit, too.

It's going to be so satisfying when Shane gets what's coming to him. (I've been excited for it since the very beginning of this book. Rest assured, Shane will not see the light of day come Season 3.)

Started out as Daryl as the villain and Shane as the hero... Kinda switched.

Sophia's still missing... and Jim, he's MIA. Get ready for him to pop back up again.

Also, Harley is finally on good terms with Rick!! Took forever and a half but we got there. I chose to do this so he could replace Shane's role as pseudo-Uncle when the time comes. Glenn's already sort of there... but what's the harm in having TWO pseudo-Uncles? 😌

Anyway, I really hope you enjoyed reading this chapter.

Please leave your thoughts and feedback below. Sending lots of love!! <3

#the walking dead #twd fanfiction #twd #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon daughter #daryl dixon #daddy issues #parent daryl dixon #rick grimes #shane walsh #angst #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #reader

[vickysaurus]

So now that we're here, I think I should talk about how I found The Owl House in the first place. Like, I suspect, quite a few people, it started with me seeing gifs of this scene on Tumblr. I think I already had the vaguest idea that there was a new cartoon about witches, presumably from the same person posting about it, but it was barely a blip on my radar. But the Grom dance gifsets showed a scene that looked so great (the animation in this scene is absolutely stunning), so unique, and so openly, joyfully queer, that I knew I had to watch it at some point. So I made a mental note and checked the tags for the show's name. And well, the tags on it said Lumity, so I figured that was the name of the show. So, mental note: download and watch Lumity at some point.

Anyway then ADHD happened so I didn't. That november, Desert Bus for Hope happened, and this being 2020, it was done entirely remote. This meant several people, including Bengineering, were in front of a greenscreen and would put their own backgrounds on it. And the reason I mention Ben is because during dance parties, he would put the Grom dance on his background, reminding me I really needed to watch that Lumity show. He actually talked about the show and how fantastic it is at some point too, so after Desert Bus I decided to download it and have a look.

Well, turns out if you try to find a show titled Lumity on RARBG, you don't get torrents for The Owl House. So, a little annoyed, I decided to search for the new She-Ra instead, since it too had been on my radar for a while. But while it was downloading, I tried my hand at searching the internet for something along the lines of 'cartoon where there's two witches dancing and fighting a monster and one of them wears a suit and dress and the other has green hair'. Which, somehow, did give a list of cool recent cartoons that included screencaps I could recognise the characters from. Ohh, it's name is The Owl House!

So, having downloaded SPOP and The Owl House at basically the same time, I had to pick what to watch first. Having already put on the first two episodes of She-Ra, you'd think I'd keep going with that, but I wanted to sample both. Once I'd seen The Owl House's pilot as well, my plan was to sort of go back and forth, but at the time, The Owl House had only a single season, while She-Ra already had all five. So it felt like I could just keep watching Owl House and get done with it before committing to the full five season SPOP. That did have the unfortunate side-effect of me forgetting some stuff from The Sword when I did get back to watching She-Ra, but that's a different story.

#the owl house #lumity #owl house rewatch #toh #yes i really did think the show's name was lumity

[rjalker]

I don't speak Italian :(

Translation by @el-the-cell:

Yesterday the Great Circle came to inspect the State Prison for his seventh yearly visit, asking me for the seventh time:

"The prisoner insist on supporting his absurd lie?" "You know very well that you are tall, as well as long and wide." "Lie! Measure my height, then, I shall believe you!"

It's been seven years, and I'm still in prison, but I keep existing, in the hope that these memories of mine could let a class of rebels arise, that refuse to live in a limited dimensionality, which for the clarity of you, inhabitants of space, I will call "flatland".

Credits shown:

FLATLAND from the fantasy novel of many dimensions by Edwin A. Abbot Film-making by Michele Emmer

Imagine a vast sheet of paper on the surface of which shadows with luminous contours move without being able to lift or dip. Straight lines, triangles, squares, hexagons and other geometrical shapes. This way you will have a correct enough idea of my country and of my compatriots. However we are not able to see anything of all that. Nothing is visible for us, except straight lines. I shall demonstrate why right away.

Let's take an equilateral triangle. If you, inhabitants of space sink your eye to the level on which it lays, it will, bit by bit, cease to appear as a shape, to appear as a straight line. Well, that is exactly what we see in Flatland when an acquaintance approaches us.

"Good morning, my dear!" "It's a pleasure to see you again!" "Is everyone doing well?" "Please give my regards to your lady!" "Goodbye!"

-How do you recognise each other?- You will ask. I shall take my time to answer you later.

Allow me to talk about the climate and the accommodations in my country. As with you, so with us there are four cardinal points: north, south, east and west. Since there isn't a sun, or other celestial bodies, it is for us impossible to determine which way the north is with the usual method. We od have our own system, though. Here, a natural law dictates that there shall be a constant attraction towards the south. And this attraction constitutes our compass. In the cities we are guided by the houses, of which the roofs are always pointing towards the north, to protect us from rainfall. The rain further helps with orientation, as it alway comes from the north. In the countryside, where there are no houses, the trees can serve as a guide, with the points always facing north. But if you happen, like it happened to me, to walk on a perfectly deserted plain, you'll be forced to stay still for hours, waiting for rain.

But let us go back to the problem of inhabitants. The inhabitants of Flatland. Our women are straight lines. Soldiers and workmen, which are our inferior classes, are isosceles triangles. Our bourgeoisie consists of equilaterals, namely triangles with equal sides. Our professionals and gentlemen are squares (class to which I, myself, belong to), and five sided shapes. Immediately above that comes aristocracy, that begins with six-sided shapes and goes on until the many-sided ones, awarded with the honorary title of "polygonal". When the number of sides becomes so great, and the size of the sides so small, a shape becomes indistinguishable from a circle. That is how you become part of the sacerdotal order, or the order of circulars: the uppermost class. In our social order, a natural law dictates that the male son shall have one more side than the father, thus climbing the ladder of nobility. This way the son of a square is a pentagon, the son of a pentagon is a hexagon, and so on. It is not that way for soldiers and workers. The son of an isosceles will always be an isosceles. I remember one time when two isosceles parents brought an equilateral into the world. It was reason to celebrate for hundreds of metres! But the newborn, recognised as "regular", was immediately taken from the despairing parents. An equilateral without offspring was summoned by the congress of the Great Circles.

"Equilateral bachelor, at your command" "You shall adopt the newborn equilateral!"

Held under oath, the new father pledged to never allow the adopted child to see his parents ever again. He now belonged to a superior class.

(Isosceles triangles gather in a house)

"We no longer accept abuses!" "Let's bring down the unjust laws!" "No one will be able to stop us!"

The acute-angled hoi polloi managed, in some to their seditions, to find leaders capable of making the Wisdom of the Circles their superior strength and numerical advantage.

"Isosceles! United, we will win!"

But the polygons manage almost always manage to stifle the sedition in the bud.

"We need to convince the leaders of the uprising to accept to partake in a discussion." "I'll tell the medics to stand ready."

The isosceles, leader of the rebels, is induced into entering one of the State Hospitals, to undergo an accurate medical examination.

(Hexagonal medic, in a German accent:)

"How is an artificial expansion possible? Thanks to a perfect surgery, the isosceles - made regular and innocuous - is thus allowed to become part of the privileged classes."

This way, the hapless mob of isosceles, deprived of their leadership, will let themselves be stabbed by a small group of their brethren, hired by the Great Circle and kept ready in the State Forts, in case of emergency.

"Soldiers, the fatherland calls!" "Ready for inspection! Present, arms! Attention! Right face! Forward March! Present, arms! Forward March!"

"Fire! Fire!"

"Fire! Fire! Fire! Wipe 'em all out! Exterminate them!"

"Fire! Fire!"

In our annals there are no less than 120 revolutions. And they all ended like this.

Some very important figures in Flatland are women. Being straight lines, They are basically invisible for us, inhabitants of the two dimensional world. A law forces them to constantly move their back part, so that we, flat beings, can see them when they arrive. Their character is ever-changing, and they get angry very easily. Since their end part is very sharp, it is not advisable to start a discussion with them in the streets.

"Please, do give way. I am in a hurry. Move aside!" "Actually, I am as well. And I arrived before you." "I'm not in the mood to waste time. Move!" "My lady, you offend me. I don't understand." "My patience has a limit!" line stabs isosceles triangle

As we have well understood, being touched by a furious woman can be very dangerous in Flatland. When we notice a woman passing through the street, we, the men, are all very careful not to cross her, or make her nervous. Our women's changing nature often causes real family tragedies. It's not rare that a woman gone crazy will exterminate her whole family, husband and children first.

"Enough, I'm sick of being at your services! I want to leave, I want my own freedom!"

An insane woman that wanders through the city immediately results in the intervention of soldiers, who are forced to eliminate her.

"Enough, go away! Stop! I'm sick of this!" "Let's get away, quick! She's dangerous." "Halt! That's enough."

Women are not a joke. Despite this, our supreme rulers, the Circles, are profoundly attracted to women. Especially the most beautiful and corrupted ones.

"Did you see that Let's follow them."

Dancing is one of the most beloved activities by circles, and all the people of flatland. And without women, what kind of dancing would it be?

A very delicate geometric problem for us, inhabitants of the flat world, a problem that inhabitants of space don't even imagine, is how to recognise each other in the street. One method consists of going around the other shape, touching gently side against side, in order to understand what shape we have encountered. We must be very careful. A brusque movement - a simple touching of the edge - can cause immediate death. But what I the reason for our problem? It's an issue of plane geometry. If I, a square, encounter another geometric shape, I'll see (as opposed to you, inhabitants of space) nothing but lines. It can be very difficult to distinguish who I have in front of me, based on what I see. I could even fail to recognise a woman.

Another big problem in my country are irregulars: geometrical shapes with unequal sides. They have difficult relationships with everyone. They can't get a job. Nobody wants anything to do with them. Even their parents don't want them.

"Just leave." "We've had enough of the problems you cause us."

Thus, the irregulars vent their anger of excluded and different on whoever first happens to be in range, causing the intervention of soldiers, who are only waiting for an excuse to intervene.

"He's dangerous! Eliminate him! Immediately!"

There is no doubt that the irregulars live very unhappy lives in flatland. But we, on the other hand, must defend our geometric regularity. Does something similar, if I may say so, not happen in your spacial world?

Years ago the fashion of colouring your sides spread in our world. Everyone competed to show off the most dazzling colours. Even the soldiers put on their dress uniforms.

The time has come that I, the square, protagonist of this tale, explain why I am in prison, where I receive the periodic visits of the Great Circle, where he invariably asks me:

"Do you still insist on your absurd lies?" "I cannot do otherwise. You know it well." "Then you shall remain in prison." "I will retain the memory of what I had the occasion to see."

And what I lived through, was the greatest adventure of my life. It began inside my house, where I live with my three sons - pentagons - (According to the law of flatland, children have one side more than their parents) with the servants - triangles of various shapes - with my wife and my son, some of the servants and two grandsons (hexagons, obviously). Then, one night, I was coming home from a tiring day. As usual, I was welcomed by my wife, and by one of my grandsons, who was drawn to geometry.

"Grandpa, you taught me that in our world length and width exist: the directions in which anything expands. Therefore if I want to calculate the surface area of a square, with a side length of, let's say, three, you'll need exactly nine little squares of unitary length. The area is three squared, which equals nine. Then why couldn't you give a meaning to the expression 'three to the power of three'?"

"Oh, nonsense! Go to sleep, I'm tired."

And I retreated to my room. I could not have predicted that I would be so soon and so spectacularly proven wrong. In the middle of the night I was woken, together with my wife, from a loud noise. I ordered my wife to return to her room. The loud noise announced the visit, dream or reality, of a being that I have since then considered sacred: the divine sphere.

The sphere. Only later I understood what it was. It had descended to visit my world. To visit us, beings unworthy and incapable of contemplating it. Obviously, I couldn't understand or see that I had a three-dimensional object in front of me, which showed on the plane of my world, what you would call a section of its shape. I did not understand it until the sphere decided to let me rise with it into space as you know it. Since that moment, I have seen things that I can not even begin to describe, for my word is unsuitable. And taken by the thrill of space, I threw myself into the analogy. But if really three dimensional objects do exist, why not think about not only about three to the third, but also about three to the fourth, why not see the cube - yes, it is divine - but in four dimensions? And seeing the sphere as well, in four dimensions? Even though I am now in prison, where I will remain forever, for trying to convince my too unworthy compatriots of the existence of space, I thank the divine sphere, that allowed me to see, or maybe dream, for a moment, the wonders of infinite space.

#Rjalker watches Flatland #Rjalker watches Flatland 1982 #Flatland 1982 #Flatland #Youtube

[penny00dreadful]

First Impressions

Hi! So my next WIP is going to be Steddie and Buckingham Pride and Prejudice fic titled First Impressions. I'm currently in the middle of writing it and am hoping to have the full first chapter posted to AO3 sometime this week. It'll be based off the 2005 movie because things go into my brain easier in a visual format, I'm sorry, my brain is having a hard time, she's a mess. Thanks to @henderdads for reminding me this WIP existed and I need to stop procrastinating.

Here's the first 1.5k words of Chapter One, I hope you like it! 😘

A03

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

"Have you heard? Harrington is back in town."

Eddie had to suppress an eye roll, keeping his gaze fixed on the whiskey in his hand and trying to ignore the conversation happening in front of him. Great, one more prick crawling back to Bum-Fuck-Nowhere Indiana after realising that 'finding yourself' didn't exactly work when there was absolutely nothing below the surface to find.

"Yeah, he's brought two girls with him apparently. You think one wasn't enough?"

Eddie stopped the stream of whiskey just short and topped it off with Coke. They wouldn't notice. He slid the glass across the bar towards them, putting the bottle back on the shelf behind him.

It had taken him a minute or two to recognise them when they walked in but now that he had, he would underpour every drink they ordered from him, the bastards.

Tommy and Carol had been a pair of dicks in school. Mean for fun. He was pretty sure they didn't even recognise him, barely glancing his way as they called out their orders.

"Not for him. You remember what he was like. Before."

"Think he managed to get his mojo back in California?"

"Only one way to find out. He's back at his parents' place. Throwing some kind of Welcome Home party."

"How the hell did you find that out?"

"Eddie!"

He whipped his head around at the sound of his name. Gareth was standing at the end of the bar, tapping his drumstick against his wrist. 

"C'mon!"

He glanced down at his own watch. 

9.30pm

Thank Christ for that. He hurriedly untied his apron from around his hips, dipping into the back office to throw it on a chair and calling out a quick "Lunch break!" to Charlie who didn't even look up from her magazine, waving him off.

"You good here on your own, Lionheart?" Eddie asked, turning to the other bartender, a boy of nineteen with wide innocent eyes and an easy smile as he took his beloved guitar from Gareth's hands.

Lionel giggled and gestured around at the practically empty bar. "I think I'll survive."

"You're a star, kid."

"Hey, after this do you think you could mix me up a Healing Potion?" Gareth asked as they settled in on stage.

"Do you not remember what happened last time?"

"No, I don't remember, isn't that the point?"

"Love treating you badly?" Jeff put his hand over the mic in front of him as he asked, turning around to look at them.

"Work is treating me badly."

"Sure. And Will is still with that guy."

"Jeff, I will use your head as my kick drum." Gareth snapped, pointing a drumstick at him.

"Alright, alright. Jeff, leave the poor halfling rogue alone, we've only got twenty-five minutes left. Gare, if you can make sure Charlie doesn't see, I'll make you your poisonous drink. Now count us in." Eddie settled his guitar against his hips and waited for his cue. They didn't need a verbal introduction, it was the same five drunks as usual. Hagan and Perkins didn't count.

He just hoped the crashing, thumping music would be enough to wash the name Steve Harrington from his memory for good.

It was nearly one in the morning by the time Eddie got home. He was momentarily surprised to find Chrissy awake before remembering she'd said something about a night out with the girls before he left.

"Have a good time?" He asked, dumping his bag by the couch and throwing himself down next to her. She immediately curled into his side, draping her pink throw over both of them, her face illuminated by whatever late night nonsense was playing on the TV. 

They were a weird duo, the two of them. The Freak and the Queen. But after the earthquake of '86 and all the insane shit that came after, they were practically inseparable. Best friends, siblings, platonic soulmates.

Their apartment together was a perfect example of the complete clash of personalities. Like two full speed trains that had collided. Chunky knit soft pink throws draped over the couch contrasted with black painted brick work and what was, in his opinion, artful graffiti. Metal posters stuck up haphazardly side by side with pop princess icons spaced evenly apart. 

The bookshelf was stuffed with D&D manuals, miniatures, classic literature, dice, plants, old cheerleading pom poms, fashion magazines, nail polish, small pride flags and team spirit flags. Photos were lining the walls of raggedy boys holding up devil horns and athletic girls cheering with a giant trophy between them.

Floral curtains and animal skulls. Combat boots and high heels. Delicate feminine gold earrings and bracelets next to chunky masculine silver rings and black corded necklaces.

Even the bathroom had the two of them littered all over it. Intense skincare that looked to Eddie like potion bottles, 3-in-1 that Chrissy said was a crime against the human body. Fluffy guest towels that weren't supposed to be touched even though he used them anyway. Hair masks and tampons next to spare lube and condoms. Perfume and cologne lined up side by side.

The only place that was completely their own was their respective bedrooms. 

In one, a full length mirror and vanity sporting heaps of makeup next to a bed that was always perfectly made piled high with way too many throw pillows and stuffed animals. Old cheer hair bows in a corkboard along with team photos, medals decorating the walls, shocking pink workout equipment stacked neatly in a corner and the floor dressed up with white faux fur rugs.

In the other, a thrifted typewriter sat on top of an antique desk that was littered with notebooks, spare pages, crumpled up attempts and coffee stains. The wall was so covered in more band posters, DnD posters, flyers, vinyls, artwork and drawings that they had started to creep onto the ceiling. On top of his bedside table was a teetering stack of books that was going to fall over soon. A heap of unwashed clothes sat in one corner and a heap of clean clothes sat in another. The corner of a fitted sheet lifted up on a bed that looked like it had never been properly made in its life. There was an empty spot to the side where his guitar would usually sit once Gareth got it back to him and a stray d4 that was on the floor somewhere that he just knew he was going to step on one of these days.

"Yeah." She giggled happily. "Really good."

"No drunken cheer routines this time?"

"No, but you'll never guess who we met."

"Do tell, my maiden fair."

"Steve's back. He's throwing himself and his friends a welcome home party on Saturday. We're invited."

We?

Eddie tried his best not to groan out his frustration. Why was he surprised? Chrissy and Harrington ran in the same circles for most of their lives.

"Well I'm sure you and the girls will have a great time."

Chrissy tilted her head up to look at him with her big, pleading baby blue eyes. "No, I mean he invited us."

He stared down at her in bewilderment. "Us?"

"Yeah, well when he invited me I think he could tell I was nervous and he told me I could bring someone."

"So why not one of the girls, they're already going right?"

"It's not the same, you know it's not the same."

"Chris, honey, I don't fancy the idea of being surrounded by the people who tormented me for years while they get brazen and drunk."

"No, it's not going to be that kind of thing. He said it was supposed to be a small get together but word got out somehow so he figures he might as well invite people he likes."

"And that includes you, does it?"

Chrissy's narrowed her eyes. "Yes it includes me. I've told you, we were friendly back in school. He looked out for me, noticed things when others didn't. I told you about that time he found me in the bathroom-"

"Yeah, I- I know." He had to cut off that train of thought right there, running his hand up and down her arm. No need to go back to dark memories when they didn't have to. She hadn't relapsed in two years.

"He's not what you think he is, Eddie. He's sweet and kind and I think you'd like him if you gave him a chance. You've never even spoken to him."

"Don't need to. I know enough."

"You know what you've heard. Rumours and gossip. I mean they used to call you a Satan worshipper."

Eddie huffed.

Chrissy blinked her big eyes up at him again. "The boys are going."

"The boys? The- the Hellfire boys? Like, the kids?"

"Yeah. They're friends with him, you know that. They talk about him all the time."

"I tend to block them out when they do that. But they're kids! He's inviting them to a party?!"

"They're eighteen, Ed."

He rolled his eyes but wouldn't budge. There was no way he was going on Saturday.

Chapter continues on AO3

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

#steddie #steve x eddie #steddie fic #stranger things fic #ficlet #fanfic #stranger things #buckingham #chrissy x robin #pride and prejudice #first impressions #greatwise #will x gareth #steddie fanfic #penny00dreadful #I have had this on my mind for SO LONG #originally under a different fandom #but it fits so well with these two idiots #ao3 #archive of our own #steddie pride and prejudice au #steddie pride and prejudice

[justices-blade]

five loaves, to share // anankos + edward

@anankelotus

Anankos can’t help but sweep Edward into his arms as soon as he sees the younger man, sorrow overwhelming his heart. He should be the one apologising to Edward, not the other way around. He was older, wiser, he should have been able to protect everyone. But perhaps, his presence within the dream had only made things that much worse, warping and distoring a world that could have been just that much better without his shattered heart affecting it.

“Don’t call me professor... I am no teacher... I don’t deserve that title... I am not your professor, nor anyone’s if you remain aboveground. I didn’t do anything for you at all. I... I’m sorry.” He lets Edward go just as quickly as he had grabbed him, burrowing further into his hood in some sort of effort to protect himself. He can’t bear it, being cared about like this, when his memories remain and haunt him, reminding him of the person he was, what he had done. Before he can stop himself, he is crying softly, tears concealed by the protective hood that always conceals what he needs it to. He’s glad to have it back, so the boy before him can’t burrow any further into his shattered heart than he already has.

“I didn’t do anything for you... It’s almost like, I wish I could have remained there... I fit better than in that world than I ever will here at the monastery... perhaps even better than I fit in the kingdom I once called my home... And I should be the one who is sorry... I’m far from as good as you think I am... and failure to protect you proves that even more...” He glances down at the baked goods shoved into his hands by a insistent teenager, knowing that he could never possibly accept it. He can’t... he can’t be here. He doesn’t belong here, every day reminded him that he was going to break, shatter, and do something that he regretted once again.

“Edward... I must ask... why dare to care about me like this? I’m sorry... but I don’t deserve such platitudes and niceties...”

He kind of expected the hug, and he's glad he brought a basket with a handle — The paper bag in Anankos' hand crinkles as the boy is pulled into a hug with a yelp and a breathy laugh, and he moves to reciprocate, his own unoccupied hand moving to pat the dragon on the back.

He doesn't expect anything afterwards though. He's released as abruptly as he was hugged (though there was comfort in the contact, that Anankos was alive and breathing). They hide under their hood, and they not only confirm his suspicions about the weird pathways leading into the basement (?), but also start... Putting themself down?

"Huh, wha???"

Oh, he isn't really equipped to deal with this; Food obviously isn't working, and he doesn't carry handkerchiefs around like Leonardo or Edain does, and he doesn't have a cute pal to work distraction like Kurth. Edward also knows the quiver in their voice, recognises it as crying, and realises that his own reassurances so far weren't really enough at all. The boy's mouth moves faster than his mind in his panic, eyes wide.

"Wait, wait, don't cry! I told you not to feel bad?" Oh, yikes, that doesn't help. Wincing at his dumb word choice, he continues, trying to salvage literally any part of this. "And don't say that — Noone belongs on a battlefield," not even himself, "or forever trapped in some — some nightmare!"

"People deserve nice things, every now and then, if they're also nice. And, I-I don't know, you're always so nice and careful and way too considerate of everyone, and I thought, hey, if I were like that, I'd want people to consider me too, right? You can't walk on eggshells all the time, that's no way to live — I'd know!"

"So I baked all this bread!" A vigorous shake of the basket, before he lets it slide to his wrist. Edward leaves out the stress-baking part, or he might've just forgotten while talking. "It's not too big, and it's useful, and fresh bread makes me happy. It's nice! And I thought I'd share?"

"If you're like, bread-allergic??? I can make you something else, promise!" he gestures, fumbling more than doing anything coherent, the basket bouncing on his arm (good thing it has a lid). His own expression is more baffled and a little sad more than anything else. "I — Y-you, you don't have to be sad!? I didn't mean to make you sad!"

#anankelotus #;t. five loaves to share #;s. a silent song | anankos #he's just a little guyyyy you wouldnt decline a gift from a little guyyy #edwards not also crying for the record hes genuinely confused

[sam-glade]

17, 39, 42 for the specific character questions! - lorenfinch

Hi Loren @lorenfinch! Thank you💜

From this list of questions.

I'm still going with the most-developed characters... These questions are tough.

17. What do they notice first in the mirror versus what most people first notice looking at them?

Lissan - is quite self-conscious, bordering on vain. He notices his pockmarks, little scars, and stubble - he likes being clean-shaven. What do most people notice? Probably the overall combination of olive skin + brown hair that points to him being from the south of the Princedom of Light, and maybe that look in his eyes that offers them a hint he'll give them attitude.

Ianim - well... Gullin once told him that he has a long nose. He still can't get over it. But what do other people notice - that he's gorgeous. Here's the thing though. In this setting, people's beliefs tangibly affect reality (e.g. a lot of the mythical creatures were believed into existence). Ianim, being the Prince Successor, has hundreds of thousands of people believing things about him, and the image he's cultivated is 'the lovely young prince, the Lord of People's Hearts'. So yes, he's gorgeous. And very recognisable. He probably wouldn't mind standing out a bit less.

Gullin looks into the mirror and thinks 'Damn, I look good today'. Spoiler alert: his looks are average. Still, he makes up for it by being a flirty, smart man in an officer's uniform. People will notice that he's a bit young to be wearing a senior officer's insignia (he's the youngest brigadier in history - the resident prodigy). Also, much like with Lissan, people will see the combination of black hair + brown skin with cold undertones, and assume he's from the south of Princedom of Rock, probably the eastern parts of it, if not from across the Inner Sea. Map for reference.

Side note, since the Army's jurisdiction spans all five princedoms, it's fairly common to see people from all over in uniform, and also people move around the sub-continent, especially to different cities. So all of the guesses where someone is from based on appearance are not hard and fast rules.

39. Would they rather be invited to an event to feel included or be excluded from an event if they were not genuinely wanted there?

Ianim certainly likes being invited, as reassurance that people think about him. Also, he gets invited to so many events that he no longer feels bad about declining invitations.

Gullin - depends on event. He'd rather not be invited anything that could be described as formal (opera, ballet, even just a brunch at a tea house). In fact, he wouldn't mind someone telling him that they're going, without inviting him - it signals to him that they paid him enough attention to know it's not something he'd enjoy. It took him a while to get there, and Ianim dragged him to multiple such occasions back at the Academy, before they figured out what they liked. For anything else that can be described as a 'party', he might sulk if you don't invite him, even if he doesn't want to go (that rarely happens thogh).

Lissan - hm... this hasn't come up much, but I think he's in the 'excluded when he doesn't want to go' camp. Though he'll understand that people won't always know what he would or wouldn't want to attend.

42. If invited to a TED Talk, what topic would they present on? What would the title of their presentation be?

Ok, I fully admit I'm out of touch with TED talks - I haven't followed them for years, so this may be vague:

Ianim might be reluctant to present, since he might get accused for using this platform to further his sister's political goals. However, if pressed (or just if asked what he'd like to present on), he'd pick a topic related to the state of public education, and put an inspiring, positive twist on it.

Gullin will present on some innovative technology that's now available to the public. Possibly something crystal-based, which doesn't require Gifted people to operate. He'll come up with a better title than I can right now😉

Lissan... he's going to give one of those 'how to live a good life' ones, isn't he?

#days of dusk #ask and i shall answer #ask game #lissan #ianim #gullin

[anonymous-character-tournament]

Have you ever broken down your blorbo to their base components?

Have you ever tried to explain your blorbo to a friend and realised they're really a few cool concepts in a trenchcoat?

Have you ever wondered how many people would like your blorbo if only they knew them?

Welcome, folks, to Season 2 of the Anonymous Character Tournament!

This is a competition to see which blorbo is the most compelling when stripped of their name and their immediately identifying characteristics. As the title says, each participant will be anonymous, and you'll only know a few cool details about them when you vote. The names will be revealed when each character loses, but you're welcome to speculate (I won't confirm anything).

This time, we'll have 32 characters. Why so few? Because last time I did "the closest power of two" and it ended up being 256 and, though fun, a lot of work.

Rules:

Nominations are only through this Google form. It will open on July 17th at 6am UTC and I will close it the first time I look at it and see 50 or more submissions, however long that'll end up being. I will immediately announce its closure.

OCs and real people are not allowed.

Characters that competed in Season 1 are not allowed to come back. Check who those were in this list.

You must provide the character's name and the media they're from. Write the media's title in full: if I find an acronym instead I'll ignore the submission.

You must also provide a list of up to five cool characteristics about the character you're submitting. These will be included in every poll the character is in and in the presentation round at the start of the season.

If you include more than five characteristics I will ignore from the sixth onward.

Characteristics should be captivating and short: bullet points are accepted, short complete phrases are accepted, paragraphs will be ignored.

Characteristics should be vague enough as not to make the character immediately recognisable to someone who's passingly familiar with the source material. They also must be qualities the character canonically has or things they have canonically done. That means no headcanons, no word of god, no fanon, etc.

Please nominate each character only once, but of course you can nominate as many as you want. Though, only one nomination per form is allowed, otherwise I'll just ignore all of them.

No hate in the notes. I won't hesitate to block, and that's a promise.

The participants will be picked by me out of the submissions I get and depending on the characteristics provided.

I chose not to do "official" additional propaganda this time around to see how it goes. As usual, though, you can leave it in the notes of the posts provided you don't include the character's media nor their name.

#tumblr polls