#why is this so much easier to write than regular chapters
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Day 2: Crown (12 Days of Writers Self Love)
I couldn’t decide which of two ideas I wanted to do more, so I did them both! Apologies if this got a little long. I really did enjoy writing these, this challenge is turning out wonderfully! Many thanks to @writeblrfantasy for creating it!
1. Hermitcraft Season 8, White Wings AU (main story here)
2. Hermitcraft Season 9, Third Life SMP
1. HC Season 8, White Wings AU
Tommy had seen many crowns in his lifetime.
The gem-encrusted crown of the SMP, first worn by Eret, and then George.
Ranboo’s humble diadem, studded with rough-cut rubies and emeralds mined by hand from the depths of the earth.
The golden spikes adorning the top of Sam’s Warden armor, fused to the mask he had worn more and more often.
Techno’s simple golden circlet, twin to Phil’s silver one, relics of an empire long past.
But he had never worn one of his own before now.
False measured out a length of copper wire before presenting it to Tommy with a wink. “It’s easier if you start with this.”
Gem taught him how to weave stalks of grass together, how to twist and braid the fragile stems around the wire until they formed something resilient, stronger. Something complete.
Stress regaled him with the meanings of different flowers, what made them grow the best, which ones were good for tea or scents or dyes. Under her careful eye he worked Queen Anne’s lace, lavender, daffodils, and yellow orchids into the strands of his masterpiece.
Iskall chuckled as he swept a lock of Tommy’s ivory hair away from his eyes. “Ready?” He asked, his organic eye twinkling with warmth as it darted around Tommy’s face. Tommy nodded, expression implacable, and Iskall placed the completed flower crown gracefully among his curls. The Swede examined his handiwork for a moment, tucking hair or flowers into place, before nodding in satisfaction.
Iskall picked up his own creation from the ground beside him, sporting purple asters and orange orchids, and crowned himself with a flourish. Tommy tilted his head, judging through squinted eyes. After a few seconds a small smile rose to his face, and he nodded in approval. It's good. I like it, he signed.
A small noise made them both turn to where Xisuma was seated on the soft grass, his crown of blue bellflowers and pink dahlias resting crookedly on top of his helmet. He was struggling to right it, but the mechanical axolotl gills on either side of his visor made it so that the woven headress kept slipping. “I guess I’m just not made for crowns,” he said good-naturedly when he noticed them looking, giving up the fight and leaving the flowers slightly off-kilter.
Perfect, Tommy signed to him, and the admin let out a surprised laugh. “Perfect? I suppose it does suit me. I’m a bit of derp even on the best of days.”
Tommy leaned back, and let the sun hit his face. Laughter danced in the wind as the Hermits delighted in the carefree summer day. He had never felt so far and yet so close to home.
-----
// Yes, I know these flowers wouldn’t all exist in the same climate as each other. But honestly this is Minecraft fanfiction so lower your expectations and let me have my dramatic flower symbolism :’D
// I really like that trope in fiction, I wish people did more of it. And can you tell I’m a sucker for found family? Lol
// Not me giving my headcanons for the DSMP crowns and forgetting all about the MCC champion team crowns. 💀 MCC is only sort of canon to this universe.... we can chalk it up to ww!Tommy never participating in MCC before, that’s only for the really famous competitive types like Technoblade and Grian. Yep. Definitely no plotholes here.
// Flower Meanings vvv
Tommy:
Queen Anne’s lace (safety, sanctuary, and refuge)
Lavender (purity, silence, serenity)
Daffodils (rebirth, new beginnings)
Yellow Orchids (new beginnings, friendship, joy)
Iskall:
Asters (love, wisdom, trust)
Orange Orchids (pride, enthusiasm, boldness)
Xisuma:
Bellflowers (affection, constancy, unwavering love)
Pink Dahlias (elegance, grace, kindness)
2. HC Season 9, 3rd Life SMP
Kingmaker. That’s what they called him.
Ren rolled the chess piece between his fingers, relishing the weight of the solid obsidian. It made a satisfying clack as he placed it back in its spot on the board. The black queen.
If he was the king, the ruler over the entire Hermitcraft server, then Bdubs would be his queen. He certainly wielded enough power; it was through Bdubs’ support alone that Ren won the crown. Bdubs was the one who built the Crastle for him, who was his advisor, defender, friend. His second-in-command, his right… hand….
Ren frowned, unease rising in his gut, a sudden chill burning the tips of his fingers. He curled his hands into fists on reflex. Something wasn’t right.
He rose from his throne with a growl and swept down the stairs from the royal dais, his cape billowing out behind him. His paws made no noise on the plush carpet running down the center of the throne room, keeping away the chill of solid stone.
“Sir BdoubleO? Your king summons you!” Ren called, his voice echoing through the empty stone halls. He waited a few moments, but only silence answered.
“Bdubs? Where are youuuuu….” His words bounced eerily off of the cavernous ceilings, echoing back as if mocking him. He hesitantly ventured down a hallway, turned, and was faced with an identical hallway. He followed it, but that only yielded another similar looking passageway. The next was almost exactly the same. And the next. Ren frowned. He hadn’t remembered there being quite this many corridors in his Crastle.
He followed more turns, traversed more corridors, calls going unheard and unanswered, until he realized he was well and truly lost. Ren stopped at a four-way intersection, glancing down each hall. They all felt familiar, but was that because they looked the same or because he truly recognized them?
Ren pulled his cloak tighter around himself, shivering. And when had it gotten so cold? He needed to tell Bdubs to install some sort of heating system in the castle, like magma blocks behind the walls or something. These were not livable temperatures, certainly not for a king.
Ren’s breath had begun to fog the air by the time he reached something that certainly didn’t belong: a set of arched glass doors, metalwork spiraling intricately across their frosted surface. The metal handles were bitterly cold, but they turned without protest as he pushed the double doors open.
Beyond lay a courtyard, dead branches hanging like corpses over flowerbeds full of dried leaves. A few inches of snow was dusted over everything in sight, drifting heavily in the corners and on the trees. Ren’s trepidation spiked. It was supposed to be summer on the Hermitcraft server, after all. And the Crastle didn’t have an interior garden.
He stepped out into the courtyard, bracing himself against the freezing gusts of air. His royal cape was woefully equipped to protect him from the full wrath of a winter’s wind. The harsh blasts died down into a biting breeze as he neared the center of the courtyard, snow crunching beneath his paws. Ren scarcely minded the cold as he stared wide-eyed at the centerpiece of this unnatural display.
A large stone altar rose from the ground, more of an elevated platform than anything else. Ren ascended its steps, captivated by the rough, indecipherable runes hewn deep into the surface. Lines had been cut straight across the top slab, radiating out from a shallow, bowl-like indentation at the middle. Blood channels, Ren realized with a growing horror. Blood channels that had clearly already been used.
A sudden growl had him tensing, ears lying flat and lips pulled back into a snarl. The sound seemed to emenate from every corner of the courtyard at once, circling as one would stalk prey. It was more than a threat. This was the hunting call of a predator.
Ren scanned the courtyard wildly, but there was nothing to see except a slate-gray sky bordered by gargoylic crenelations and the first few flurries of snowfall. The rumbling grew louder and louder, until the very air trembled before it. Oh, little wolf, the voice purred, smugly satisfied and impossibly deep.
“Who are you?” Ren shouted at the sky, hating the way his voice had gone high-pitched with fear.
The voice merely chuckled, the sinister whisper of a blade pulled from its sheath. Winter is coming, it intoned. And the crown weighs heavy.
Ren spun in place, breaths coming sharp and cold biting at his lungs. The voice was crushing him from all sides, pushing him down to his hands and knees on the cold, stone altar.
Do ye have what it takes to be KING, Rendog?
And Ren woke in his royal bedchambers, gasping for air and sheets soaked in sweat. His hands didn’t stop shaking for the rest of the day.
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// I am just now getting into the 3rd life fandom (yes, a year late) and holy cow I love the Red King so much!! Big kudos to dog at the door by fluffy_papaya and iamsolarflare for getting me hooked on Ren’s lore, it’s one of my favorite fics ever.
// For the voice, have you heard the voice of the Old God N’Zoth from the Warbringers short? Yeah, that but with a hint of Scottish accent. Very dark and powerful-sounding.
Deal? I like deals.... *eldritch laughter*
- N’Zoth the Corruptor
#12 days of writers self love#hermitcraft#white wings au#eburnean#eburnean tommy#hermitcraft season 8#hermitcraft season 9#third life#3rd life smp#the red king#rendog#fanfiction#why is this so much easier to write than regular chapters#happy december y'all
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i’ve been following ur writing for some time now and i do have to agree with that anon who said you did CH dirty. you are a very talented writer so it’s just hard to watch.
you started off CH so strong with the lore and little chapters here and there but as it progressed you kind of just got lazy and it shows. when important events happened in the story, they weren’t conveyed through writing but through the texts (ie the riki and yn fight, that was definitely worth a written chapter) and it was honestly disappointing.
the ending isn’t much to say about either. yn and hoon barely go through development after the letter incident and all of a sudden they’re dating and married with a kid like two chapters later?
idk, if it was a mental health issue then i get that but even then you should’ve just gave it a break and thought everything out more. you could do so much better.
thank you for the feedback!
i wanna put you through the progess of a piece of writing from the POV of a writer okay? now keep in mind: i work two jobs, am a fulltime uni student and the daughter of an immigrant household with two parents who still work most of the day just so you know what else i have to deal with, besides my mental health okay?
now, i started off CH strong right? yes. i uploaded on the daily, fine i chose that. a chapter usually takes me around one hour if i actually sit down and focus on nothing but the chapter itself, which includes IG stories, editing, formatting etc. alright
on top of the daily chapters, i constantly replied to 40+ asks a day, a blessing in disguise because no matter how much i enjoy talking to you guys, the pressure does get worse the bigger that number of my inbox becomes, i hope this makes sense
now, i started CH back in october, right when my semester started, thats why i started off strong but as time went on, my assignments and private life got too busy and i guess i felt entitled enough as a writer to skip a few certain chaps and make life a little easier for me by making them regular chapters instead of written ones.
and this is gonna be my main point: i'm not a machine. i wrote a minimum of 5 THOUSAND words per written chapter, MINIMUM. we're talking about a 5-9 THOUSANDED worded chapter EACH WEEK. which usually took me about 6-7 hours, even allnighters.
yes, i chose to do that and maybe my time management wasn't the best but i had to create a compromise where i wouldnt have let you guys wait for over two months which would have resulted in me losing my motivation completely, and yet still focusing on EXAMS. because you know, i'm a fulltime uni student with TWO jobs 😮💨
if YOU think i did CH dirty go write an alternative ending yourself but it should be a minimum of 15 chapters including 5 written ones, with at LEAST 9k words each yeah? i wanna see you manage it all, pls prove me wrong snd show me you're better than me i'm genuinely begging bc it might inspire me to do "better" next time.
as a writer/artist/creator, and i can tell you probably arent one yourself or havent been one for long, the longer smth takes to come to an end the worse the pressure becomes which results in a blockage i dont wish upon my worst enemy i'm being deadass. i dealt with some of the worst writer's block ive had since i started writing literally 12 years ago and you're telling me i should have just "taken a break" and do "better"
i never, ever expected anything from anyone but some of you are so entitled to a writer's time and skill it's giving me a headache. maybe you didn't like the timing and writing of the last few chapters of CH and i guess that's unfortunate but this was so unnecessary because you completely dismissed everything else that could have been going on in my life and even belittled my mental health issues like im some fucking AI writing machine
do better, be nicer, write it yourself if you don't like it i'm so fucking over this
if i had gotten out of my own comfort and wellbeing and have actually written another set of written chapters i would have burned myself completely out. ive been in this fandom for not even a year and have already finished FOUR smaus with 50 chapters each, you do NOT get to tell me what i should or could have done better because you dont even give a fuck about me as a person this is just about receiving what YOU think YOURE entitled to but this is MY art and I will do what I see fit even if it's not what was expected of it because i'm a fucking human being with a life before i'm a writer on tumblr
oh, also: i do this for free ㅤ:) just a reminder :) this is my HOBBY :)
and don't you EVER call me lazy again when it comes to writing because i'm not gonna pour my heart and soul into a fic just for you to call me lazy when i literally wrote 50 THOUSAND words for this fucking fic just for the written chapters
goodbye
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What You've Done, You Cannot Undo (Medieval AU)
Chapter 3
Dew feels guilty, Rain screws up.
Rating: M now, to be safe
Content: side character death, minor descriptions of violence, flashbacks, peril
Words: 2253
Link to all chapters with associated tags: Tumblr | AO3
hi hi @revengeghoulette here's your alert! and @everybodyshusband you seemed very keen haha!
Read below, or on AO3!
Dew stomped along the path surrounding their fields. The warm sun overhead taunted him, it's rays full of promise and life while he felt only cold and empty inside. He knew he'd been too harsh on Rain, deep down, but he'd have to be threatened with banishment to the pit to admit that. Dewdrop refused to allow himself to feel guilty; that was a slippery slope of self-hatred he knew he wouldn't be able to crawl back up from. He knew he could be short-tempered, and he harboured enough resentment of his own that it was bound to overflow into his actions.
Rain seemed to have had things so much easier than him though, it wasn't fair. From the day he arrived he had bonded with the others in a way Dew had struggled to. They would chitter and purr at Rain for the slightest thing, whereas they had remained suspicious of him for ages. Dew was self-aware enough however to realize that he hadn't helped his case by hissing and growling at his packmates for the smallest thing.
That didn't mean it didn't hurt. Rain got a lot of leeway for being young, the others quick to write off his transgressions as ignorance rather than malice, but they forgot Dew was young too. Despite presenting himself as world-wise and experienced, he was closer in age to Rain than he was to any of the rest of his packmates. He'd worked hard to rewrite his time before Aether and Mountain found him, both the most difficult and most sheltered parts, but he couldn't erase their impact.
He continued his mission uphill, to the base of a large oak tree that overlooked their whole farm and surrounding area. Smoke curled from the chimneys of houses in the village in the distance, and a multicoloured patchwork of fields spread out around them. Following the path in the opposite direction, Dew could just make out the dark speck of Rain walking to Farmer Wilkins’. He was stubborn, not taking Dew's constant snipes to heart, Dew had to grudgingly respect that. He watched until Rain turned a corner and was lost from sight.
~~~~~~~
On the walk over, Rain was also enjoying the warm weather as he followed the stream. There was barely a cloud in the sky, the open blue expanse painted with faint white wisps reached as far as the eye could see. Rain could see why his help was needed: the summer had stretched on for several glorious months, and the ground beneath his feet was showing signs of cracking from lack of rainfall. A gentle breeze worked to sweep the cobwebs that still clung tightly to his dream and Dew's comments from his mind.
Arriving at the farm with sweat beginning to bead on his forehead from the heat, Rain was greeted by Farmer Wilkins, sat out on his porch. He was a jovial man, round and ruddy faced, with a vigour for life that defied his advancing age. Rain didn't know him well, but he was a regular down at the village tavern and always had a spare word or smile for Swiss when he passed by.
“Good mornin’, Rain! I didn’t expect to see you so soon, please, sit down. My daughter Marina’s preparing some elderflower cordial against this hot weather. We can wait ‘til you’re rested to begin!”
Rain awkwardly accepted the proffered seat on the porch bench, glad for the shaded spot after the heat of his walk. He heard light footsteps approaching, and looked up to see a young woman emerge from the cottage holding a tray of glasses and a jug of pale liquid.
Her dark hair fluttered around her pretty face in the breeze, and Rain gasped feeling as though he’d been shot in the chest: she was the spitting image of his childhood sweetheart. From the gentle wave in her ebony hair to the asymmetric dimples in her cheeks as she smiled at him in greeting, they could have been twins if not for her obvious humanity.
Noticing Rain’s slack-jawed stare, the farmer chuckled good-naturedly.
“Quite a looker, ain’t she Son! Don’t be getting any funny ideas, she’s engaged to the lad down the road. Childhood sweethearts, they were!”
Rain was struck by the similarities to his own previous life. In another world, his water ghoulette’s father could have spoken of him like that. Instead, Rain had the distinct impression that he had been glad to see Rain leave.
Feeling as though he was watching himself behind glass, Rain accepted a drink with shaky hands. Marina rolled her eyes at his stuttered thanks, but smiled kindly at him as she headed back inside. Luckily, the farmer seemed happy to keep the conversation moving all by himself, leaving Rain to nod in what he hoped were the appropriate places. He sipped his drink in an attempt to replace the moisture in his mouth, which was now as dry as sand. Moving his limbs to raise the glass, Rain felt like he was pulling at the strings of a marionette puppet.
Once Farmer Wilkins had exhausted his supply of one-sided small talk, the pair headed out to the fields, beginning with the one closest behind the house. Here, the corn grew luscious and tall: Mountain did a stellar job encouraging the crop earlier in the season. Rain had tagged along that day, watching as Mountain pressed his palms to the ground to imbue it with his own magical energy.
Now Rain stood in the field without the earth ghoul by his shoulder, feeling alone and detached. He sensed the eager eyes of the farmer watching him, the intense interest making Rain’s knees begin to tremble anxiously. He took a deep breath, and copied what he had done before with Mountain, what he had seen and heard Aether do a hundred times.
Raising his arms out in front of him, palms to the sky, Rain closed his eyes and called out,
“Ancient Spirits! Bless this land, that it be free from drought and pestilence.” he swept his arms around a bit, then turned his palms to the ground. “Gracious Earth, protect these bountiful crops so they may feed us another year.”
Rain winced at how fake it all felt, like he was just going through the motions, and the flowery language rang false in his ears. He cracked his eyes open and saw the farmer – along with half a dozen or so curious farmhands who had downed tools to stare – watching in barely concealed fascination. He squeezed his eyes shut again, waved his arms around a final time in what he hoped was a convincing manner, and went silent as he tried to connect with his element. Rain knew the others could control their power while talking and moving, but he still struggled without devoting his complete concentration to it.
He felt the motion of the water in the stream at the foot of the field, the weight of the droplets in the few scraps of cloud overhead. Flexing his fingers, Rain imagined drawing them in, encouraging them towards the field. He sensed the flowing rivulets of water from the creek begin to channel through the ground, moistening the dry soil around the roots of the crops. The clouds above thickened imperceptibly with the promise of future raindrops.
As Rain felt the water begin to do his bidding, he opened his eyes again to ensure that none of his changes were visible to the small audience of humans. From day one, Aether had instilled the value of plausible deniability into Rain. He insisted it was the most important part of using their elemental connections outside of ghoulish colonies, that they should never give the humans too much evidence of their power and should always leave them with a rational explanation.
As the light flooded his retinas, he saw her standing there: Marina was hovering behind her father's shoulder, watching Rain work with a curious smile and her uncannily familiar dimples. Rain choked on his breath as the sharp stab of longing for his lost future caused him to double over. The pain coursed through his veins and as it did so, Rain felt it cross over with his call to the water. Unbidden, he felt the shock and subsequent rush of emotions transfer into the water he was drawing in, reacting to the ache he had taught himself to supress.
The wisps of feathery clouds he had been coaxing to coalesce now slammed into each other as though pulled by a magnetic force. More water joined from seemingly nowhere, until the clouds hung dark grey and pregnant above the field. Unable to stop the flow of emotionally charged elemental power, Rain watched in horror as the water from the creek rose up, bursting its banks and rushing uphill in an unstoppable tidal wave of water. It reached higher than the stalks of corn, barrelling towards the assembled crowd and flattening the crops indiscriminately. He tried frantically to cut the connection and stop the flow, but with no success.
Rain's panic began to grow, only adding to the ferocity of the water, and the clouds took this as their sign to drop their contents onto those gathered below. The deluge of raindrops hit at the same time as the towering wall of water did, knocking Rain to his feet as he screamed out for the flood of both water and emotions to stop assaulting his body and mind. As the water covered his face, he felt his gills burst free and his glamour dissolve. Rain fought against the water as it dragged him further up the field and back towards the cottage.
To his horror, he saw a flash of dark hair dragged past him. The currents of his own creation slammed the girl against the stone wall of the farmhouse and pinned her there, suspended in a grotesque position, until eventually releasing her to crumple limply into the churning water below. Rain barely had time to process what he was seeing, before he heard a shattering of glass as another farmhand, a boy from the village who could barely have been fifteen, was thrown through the glass roof of a greenhouse. The rain that was still pouring down on them did nothing to dilute the obvious red of the blood spreading through the water.
The tidal wave finally retreated down the field, revealing the destruction left in its wake as it did so. The body of another farmhand emerged from the frothing stream, lifeless without the swirling of the water to animate it. Those remaining staggered to their feet, screaming out in terror. At seeing the carnage and bodies scattered across the field, they turned their anger on Rain. Feeling all the eyes on him, Rain took off running with no heed for where he was heading. Farmer Wilkins let out a howl of anguish as he cradled his daughter's mangled corpse, turning into a roar of anger directed at Rain. The farmhands left alive scrabbled for their abandoned tools scattered by the currents and gave chase, baying for Rain's blood.
As Rain hurled himself down the road, he realised too late that he was heading straight for the centre of town. The noise of the men chasing him attracted the attention of the occupants of the houses he fled past until a small mob was following him, figurative and literal pitchforks raised. Half-crazed, with fear threatening to paralyse him if he paused, Rain kept on running. Lungs burning, he kept pumping his legs as fast as they would go. His feet were now fully unglamoured and the excess webbing between his toes made his shoes feel too small. Every step was agony and yet he knew if he stopped, he was as good as dead.
Rain's mind started to swim, his actions and their consequences catching up with him making him feel dizzy and nauseous. With his tail now caught in his trousers, his balance was almost entirely gone. He felt his foot catch on a loose stone and as he went flying, he knew it was all over. Rain hit the sandy ground hard, all the breath knocked out of him. His eyes frantically swivelled left and right as he scrabbled backwards. Seeing double, Rain stared through the cloud of dust he had kicked up at the crowd bearing down on him. He registered the approaching shovel only as it slammed into the side of his head, stars flashing across his vision before everything went black.
~~~~~~~
From his seat under the tree, Dew was close to dozing off when something caught his attention. He watched in confusion as dark clouds appeared and raced across the sky, before combining together over one field. The air underneath them rippled with falling waves of the torriential rain falling from them. Dewdrop realised a few things simultaneously: firstly, those clouds weren't natural. Dew knew enough about elemental magic to recognise it when he saw it. Secondly, that amount of rain was dangerous and sure to catch the attention of the townsfolk, especially given the recent stretch of warm weather. Lastly, he realised in horror that the clouds were centred directly over the very field Rain had gone to that morning.
Dew leapt to his feet and took off running back to the farmhouse. This was it; all of their worst fears come to life. Their cover was well and truly blown and Dew had to get to the others.
#what you've done you cannot undo#cw angst#cw death#cw violence#mild but still there#the band ghost#nameless ghouls#foot of the gallows marriage#medieval au#historical au#enemies to lovers#ghost#ghost bc#dewdrop ghoul#rain ghoul#ghost fanfiction#raindrop month#em writes
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Exposure Therapy Prologue
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
Pairing | Jonathan Crane × reader
Summary | You find a new therapist who is more than willing to help you overcome your fears.
Warnings | 18+, talks about fear of being raped, talks about fear of being pregnant and giving birth, pretty much just a content warning for their conversation, the real bad stuff is in pt. 1
Words | 700
Notes | You don’t technically have to read this chapter, it just provides some more background for part 1.
Ao3 link | <3
Fic Masterlist
Main Masterlist
You anxiously sat down on the small couch, picking at your cuticles as you waited.
“Are you nervous?” He asked, giving you a calming smile.
“A little. Sorry, I’ve never done this before.”
“It’s completely normal to be nervous during the first session, especially if you’ve never done anything like this before.” That calmed your nerves a little. “Let’s start simple. Why don’t you tell me why you’re here.”
“Um… The fears that I have are getting a little out of control and affecting my everyday life, so I was hoping you could help me get over them. At least a little bit.”
“Knowing you need help and taking the initiative to seek that help is already a really good start.” You gave him a shy smile at the praise, not sure how to respond. “Since this is a consultation, I’d like to know what fears you need help overcoming so I can figure out the best treatment for you. Is that alright?”
“Yeah, of course. There are two main ones. Um… being- being raped and being pregnant or giving birth.” He scribbled quickly as you spoke and you waited anxiously for him to respond.
“I want to better understand you. Is it alright if I ask some questions?” He asked, crossing his hands and resting them on the notebook in his lap.
“Yes.”
“Is there any past trauma that might’ve caused these fears?” You shook your head. “Let’s just focus on the first one for now. What do you think might be the cause?”
“I guess just knowing how common it is? I feel like I’m living every single day just waiting to become part of the statistic.”
“That must be pretty debilitating feeling that way. Is that stopping you from doing a lot of the things your peers do?” You just nodded in response. “And what about the other one? How is that affecting your everyday life?”
“Um…” You bit your lip as your cheeks grew warm, realizing what you would have to explain to answer his question. “It’s- I don’t…” Looking away from him, you swallowed thickly.
“There’s no need to be embarrassed. I’m here to help you, but you have to help me understand before I can do that.” You nodded in agreement, trying to force yourself to just say it.
“I'm on birth control, but I still don’t feel like I can rely on that completely. And when boyfriends or whatever find out, they usually want to- to…”
“Not use a condom?”
“Yes.”
“But you don’t feel safe doing that?” You shook your head as you bit your bottom lip. “So it’s affecting your relationships. Is it affecting you individually as well?”
“Well I mean, I… want to do that with them too.”
“You have a breeding kink?” You stared at him with wide eyes, floundering for a response. He was unfazed by the inappropriate question though.
“I wasn’t going to say it like that, but yeah.”
“Kinks can often be coping mechanisms. Do you have any other that could be related?”
“…Cnc?”
“Is it easier to partake in that one because there’s no real risk?”
“Yeah I guess so.” This time when he started writing, he took a little longer than the past few times. When he finally looked back up, he gave you a small smile.
“I think I’m going to be able to help you, I already have a few treatments in mind. Thank you for being so open with me, I know it’s not easy talking about something so personal.” You nodded, not sure what to say. “We can start regular therapy but in the meantime I can prescribe you some medication for the anxiety.”
“Oh I don’t- I don’t know if I want to take medication.” He passed the pen over the paper in one stroke, striking something out.
“The old fashion way then.” He smiled and you chuckled awkwardly, wondering if you messed up by saying that. It didn’t seem like you did? Maybe you should just agree since he thinks it’ll help? He cut off your over thinking before you had the chance to say you changed your mind. “Do you think once a week will be a good start?”
“That sounds perfect.”
Part 1
#jonathan crane x reader#jonathan crane#dr crane#scarecrow#tokophobia#fear of being pregnant and giving birth#therapy#exposure therapy
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HP Rec Fest, Day 28
I’ve been reccing underrated fics since this blog was created and so I thought “there’s no easier @hprecfest prompt than this one” lol famous last words, this post took me ages to prepare 😂 I was initially overwhelmed by the amount of fics that came to mind, and going through my bookmarks and old recs only made it worse. How was I supposed to shortlist?? In the end I gave up and decided to rec 2 Drarry fics + 2 rare pairs. I could have included so many more but I really didn’t want this to become a tl;dr post and these rec blurbs are already going out of control, so here we go!
Day 28) an under-rated fic:
Drarry
In Dreams by @moonflower-rose (E, 38k)
Harry wasn't expecting to ever see Draco Malfoy again. He also wasn't expecting to walk into a political conspiracy that morning either, but apparently that's exactly what the day has in store for him.
I’ve screamed quite a few times about this fic (see my rec here) and every time I do it’s in the hopes that more folks will stop whatever they’re doing and go feast on this. not only a delicious and intriguing case fic with Rosie’s trademark epic dialogue and superb sense of humour, this also wins the award of best fic opening I have ever read. the way I gasped at chapter one and am forever haunted by its utterly devastating ending oh my god!!! my heart belongs to this gritty Harry, and the slow burn is masterfully crafted within the urgency of their teamwork to solve the mystery combining comfort, grief and hope in a thrilling, poignant and perfectly paced adventure. plus, the emotional payoff is chef’s kiss, honestly I cannot recommend this enough!
Survival of the Species by @romaine2424 (E, 47k)
Draco approaches Harry on the 9 ¾ platform, after their sons have boarded the Hogwarts Express, and invites him over for tea. The discussion they have leads them on an adventure that neither could have expected. There be dragons! HPDH compliant but before any other canon info had been released.
considering this masterpiece was published back in 2007 I think I’m allowed to say this is definitely a formative story when it comes to the creature genre, more specifically Veela fic. I first read this a couple years ago and my jaw legit dropped at the amount of world-building and carefully researched lore that went into this. so detailed and intricate and different from everything I’ve seen before or since, I was truly fascinated and couldn’t stop reading. kudos to the amazing slow burn covering years of their struggles stuck together in a dragon cave and having to rely on each other to survive. I loved seeing the hardships and how they genuinely came to care for each other, definitely one of the most moving and convincing Veela love stories I’ve read in the fandom.
Rare pair
With a Look by earlybloomingparentheses (Ginny + Deamus, E, 5k)
Now, twenty years old and done with boys and looking forward very much to putting her hand down some lucky girl’s shirt later this evening, Ginny looks at Dean Thomas’s gold-painted fingernails and feels heat pool between her legs.
I think about this fic every now and then - such a sensitive, thought-provoking and beautiful homage to the 🏳️🌈 community. the visceral and contemplative tone takes it beyond your regular PWP, and I’ve rarely seen gender and queerness explored quite like this. seeing Ginny figuring out and owning her identify is mesmerizing. her voice is powerful, sexy, earnest and articulates so many complex and layered feelings - I was particularly moved by the inner turmoil of not looking “queer enough”. I’m sure this fic will be eye-opening and comforting to so many people out there, and that’s why I never cease to rec it. an intimate character study, a sinfully hot and self-indulgent threesome but above anything, a poignant love letter to the queer community.
Passion, Patents, and Pen Pals at the Ministry by @violetclarity and @yrfrndfrnkly, art by @anaxandria-writes and @veelawings (Hermione/Pansy, T, 32k)
After an extremely ill-timed lovers'-tiff-turned-food-fight at the Ministry leaves her less one boyfriend and suspended without pay for six months, Hermione pleads for some position–anything–to fill her days until her suspension is up. The good news is, her temporary position in the Magical Games & Sports's Ludicrous Patents office is just down the corridor from Harry's office in General Inquiries. The bad news is Harry's officemate is Pansy Parkinson, the Ministry's operations are shockingly outdated, and every altercation between Hermione and Pansy winds up a headline in MoM's internal rogue gossip zine, Hot Goss.
rivals to secret pen pals to lovers yes please?? this hilarious Pansmione is a ship triumph and yet criminally underrated. I had a blast getting into the world of Ministry gossip & politics, and immediately fell in love with all the characters, l especially with this lovely meddling Harry. it’s SO MUCH FUN to watch poor him (and Blaise omg what a duo) in the middle of a ladies’ tug of war. I’m impressed by the amount of world-building especially around their workplace, not to mention all the side interactions and the fun, organic slow burn. I love this take on identity porn with tons of banter and Pansy and Mione connecting through their shared worldview and feminist principles, such a power couple ✊🏼 the mix of semi-epistolary, witty dialogue, dorky meddling friends and mild angst make for peak entertaining, I laughed non-stop and cheered so bad for them. femslash ftw!!!
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Fic Writing & Fandom Nostalgia
To any/all that checked out my HH fic "You Didn't Know," I want to sincerely thank you. I loved writing every bit of it and sharing it. Reading the comments brought me so much joy. Seriously, I got so giddy seeing a new email come through with a comment!
If you read the latest chapter shortly after I posted it, you may have missed the note I added saying it was going into an indefinite hiatus. I'm calling it quits on writing. (Maybe for now, maybe forever)
I go through periods where I want to "burn it all down" because I get caught up in the comparison game. My writing isn't as good or creative as other authors. I never get as much attention or comments as other authors, and I have nowhere near the popularity level of artists. I think of all the ways my writing sucks and "why didn't I come up with *that* idea? They're so good (author or artist), why do I even bother putting out my stuff? No one would notice if I just disappeared and stopped posting."
I've been working on my tumultuous relationship with fic and fandom in therapy (yes, it's embarrassing to have to explain what fandom/fic is to your therapist 😅), and what I've found at the core is the longing for connection. I keep thinking it will happen, that I'll connect with a reader (or readers), or that I'll get more comments in order to make said connections happen (and receive the validation I am unfortunately conditioned to need), and when it doesn't happen, there's significant disappointment and feelings of worthlessness.
I haven't seen people talk about this, but the way people engage in fandom is so different than it was when I first started 2 decades ago. Back then, there were limited sites people would post to (livejournal, fanfiction.net, and DeviantArt being the main 3 imo), so there was more opportunity to really get to know others. You had your own little communities and friendships formed beyond the centralized community and it spilled over into people's personal LJ's and even the exchange of phone numbers. People left comments regularly on art and fic alike.
Now, there are so many sites to post on, so many more people in fandom (especially with it being more "acceptable" nowadays), and it's much easier to just leave a like/kudos and move on to the next thing rather than staying and engaging. Of course, there are some people who make a name for themselves in a particular fandom and have their regulars who engage, but for the most part - people just don't put in the same kind of effort to engage with the work/creator as they did when I was just starting out. And reading a fic? That takes a lot of effort!! So I can see why fanarts gets way more likes and reblogs than a fic because there's more time that has to be invested to read rather than just look and like.
I miss when I had fandom friends and how we all kind of knew each other. I miss genuine connection. I miss sharing my interests with someone who loves it like I do and will geek out with me.
If any of this resonated, I'm glad I'm not alone 😅💜 just something that has really been on my mind and needed to get it out.
#fandom#fanfic#fanart#writing#hazbin hotel fic#hazbin hotel#my fic#radioapple#appleradio#tagging all that prompted this 😅#alastor/lucifer#alastor x lucifer#my thoughts
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It's Easier if I'm to Blame, Yeah, It's Easier to Numb the Pain
Word count: 2919
TW: Near-death experience
Taglist (lmk if you want to be added/removed!): @stellar-lune @faggot-friday @kamikothe1and0nly @nyxpixels @florida-preposterously @poppinspop @uni-seahorse-572 @solreefs @did-i-say-you-could-get-up @rusted-phone-calls @when-wax-wings-melt @good-old-fashioned-lover-boy7 @dexter-dizzknees @abubble125 @hi-imgrapes @callum-hunt-is-bisexual @xanadaus @callas-pancake-tree @hi-my-name-is-awesome @katniss-elizabeth-chase @arson-anarchy-death @dizzeners @thefoxysnake @olivedumdum @loveution @notyourlegacygirl
On Ao3 or below the cut!
Once again, this was a thing for my creative writing class, but this one was actually supposed to be a fanfic, not just a barely-concealed fanfic like the other two. Essentially this is that one scene in Neverseen where Fitz and Dex become friends. Yes, I know it's been done before. I've done it before. This is the most hinged fanfic I could write and to be fair I wrote kotlp chapter 3 like two years ago and this is from Fitz's pov. It's completely different
“Can I…um…talk to you for a sec?” Dex asks, his voice sharper and brighter than it has any right to be, ripping a spiraling Fitz out of his daze.
For Physic to admit so plainly that he just nearly died that’s—that’s terrifying.
Sophie might go through that on a far too regular basis, but for Fitz to get that close to his own demise makes him feel things he’s never felt before. It’s a kind of fear and a lack of control he’s never had before, even while he was watching Sophie drag herself back from the edge of fading away.
It’s an even deeper affront to his being than that. Elves are supposed to have an indefinite life span; they aren’t built to process the concept of their own mortality.
“Uh…sure,” Fitz replies slowly, glancing up to find Dex studying the floor.
Fitz’s Mom herds Keefe and Sophie out of the room, and Physic follows suit, her bejeweled half-mask glittering in the sterile lights as she goes. Keefe, ever insufferable, proclaims that he’s going to be eavesdropping. Fitz throws a pillow at him for his impunity.
It is very quickly made obvious that this was a bad decision as Fitz’s chest screams with pain.
The inky veins of arthropleura venom may have been drawn out of his skin, but he still has a long way to go before he’s fully healed. Physic’s scolding tells him as much.
The look Physic gives Keefe as she warns him to not throw it back is unexpectedly familiar, but Fitz can’t quite figure out why. At least the pillow isn’t allowed to make a return. Keefe is sure to remember this, though. Fitz will regret it one day very soon.
Dex waits for several seconds, head turned to the door, watching for the slightest sign that Keefe might be making good on his promise. Eventually he gives in and turns his attention back to the floor, gaze occasionally flicking up at Fitz.
Fitz smiles reassuringly, to no effect.
“I’m so sorry,” Dex whispers, voice ragged. He’s so quiet, Fitz wonders if Dex actually said anything or if his thoughts were just so loud that Fitz’s Telepathy picked up on them.
The next time Dex dares to look at Fitz, a tear streaks down Dex’s cheek. He quickly swipes it away.
More than that, though, is the guilt etched into every single line, every single freckle.
Guilt is the most dangerous emotion an elf can have. Fitz has seen its effects. His father’s mind broke from the weight of Prentice’s conviction.
The ironic part is that Prentice’s sentence was to spend the rest of his indefinite lifespan with his mind broken for assisting the Black Swan and, now, Fitz, Biana, and their Mom have joined that exact same organization.
And, yes, Sophie was able to heal his Dad, but what if she couldn’t this time? What if Dex shattered and Fitz was the reason why?
I’ve already had to go through losing someone because of Prentice’s exile. I can’t let it happen again.
“Dex, listen to me.” Fitz waits until Dex’s eye contact lasts for a whole second. “I don’t blame you. I don’t blame you in the slightest—”
“It was my gadget! It’s why you’re like—like this!” Dex’s voice cracks as he gestures to the bed Fitz is going to be trapped in for the next week.
Fitz’s hackles rise, meeting Dex’s anger head on. Anger is a safe emotion, at least until he starts saying things he’s going to regret. But he doesn’t care if he regrets what he’s saying so long as Dex understands.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but last I checked, you aren’t a Charger. So unless you’ve suddenly manifested another ability and then didn’t spend a week proclaiming it to anyone who would listen, that was not your fault.”
Dex’s voice takes on a dark edge. “Zarina wouldn’t have been able to do this.”
Memories of Councillor Zarina, lightning crackling in her palms and the faint whiff of ozone it caused as the air electrified, rush through Fitz’s mind. “She would’ve happily electrocuted any one of us if she thought it was the right thing to do.”
“Since when has the Council acted upon ‘the right thing?’”
Fitz’s mouth opens to argue that the Council isn’t malicious, just overly cautious with a tendency to cover up every possible controversy, no matter how small, but he thinks better of it. The memories of Sophie’s Ability Restriction surface, too fresh in both of their minds to ignore.
Dex probably blames himself for that, too. But that isn’t his fault, either. He set out to build an Ability Enhancer. It was the Council that twisted it into what it became. He was just following orders to not get his family banished.
“Since when have you not blamed them for every inconvenience you’ve ever experienced?” Fitz smiles amusedly, a recent event coming to the forefront of his mind. “I think one day I heard you probably working on your gadgets around five in the morning cursing them out. I don’t think they gave you that paper cut.”
“Okay, most importantly, why were you awake that early? And how could you hear me? We are quite literally in separate treehouses. And, also, it was a splinter, not a paper cut, thank you very much.”
Dex’s petulant smile doesn’t quite reach his dimples.
“I’m surprised Biana hasn’t told you about the horror stories of living with me. I’m apparently what’s called a ‘morning person’ and I should be placed in the Sanctuary to prevent the extinction of my species because it’s critically endangered.”
Dex’s smile widens, becoming more sincere. He looks like he almost wants to laugh, but his lips stay pressed together. That’s when Fitz makes it his personal mission to make Dex laugh before he’s allowed to leave this room, even if humor as a coping mechanism is Keefe’s specialty.
Fitz’s grand plans are suddenly impeded by a coughing fit, every muscle in his chest protesting with every single movement. A metallic taste tinges the back of his tongue and the skin of his chest feels impossibly tight. Between coughs, he can see the guilt flashing across Dex’s face, and it makes his chest ache in more ways than one.
Fitz doesn’t even get the chance to catch his breath before Dex begins a rambling apology. “I’m sorry I did this to you, and I’m sorry about the Ability Restrictor, and I know it wasn’t used on you but I’m still sorry about how it turned out, and I’m sorry for that day you came to the store and I acted like a buffoon, and I’m sorry for—”
Fitz interrupts him before he can work himself into even more of a mess. “How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t blame you for what happened with the arthropleura?”
“But you should.”
“There was absolutely no malicious intent behind anything that went down. You need to stop blaming yourself.”
Dex shakes his head. “Intent doesn’t absolve me of responsibility.”
“Fine, then. Why don’t you blame the Council? You can do that. It’s very easy to get pissed at Councillor Zarina for short circuiting your gadget. It’s even easier to blame Councillor Clarette for calling the arthropleura there in the first place. Who’s to say no one would’ve gotten hurt if your mini smoke machine gadget thing hadn’t decided to be extra explosive?”
Dex looks…thoroughly unconvinced.
“Or, if you want to think about it this way, I share responsibility too. If I hadn’t thrown your gadget down the hallway, things could’ve gone very differently. Worse differently, but still differently. You can blame me for everything, you’ve done it before.”
Dex has returned to studying the floor, the uneven lines of light gray grout separating the slightly darker gray tiles. It’s the only room Fitz has seen in the entirety of Alluveterre that doesn’t feel like it’s a treehouse. It’s empty, cold, and smells faintly of hand sanitizer. “I used to hate you, you know,” he whispers.
His inflection on the word ‘hate’ seems to imply that those feelings might not entirely be in the past, but they certainly aren’t what they used to be. He wouldn’t be getting this worked up if someone else—like Stina—was the one impaled by the antennae of an oversized millipede.
“Yeah, I do,” Fitz replies simply, not breaking eye contact.
“And that doesn’t bother you?”
“I mean, I don’t entirely understand what I did to merit that kind of response, but, like, you’ve been more than willing to tolerate me in recent months. Why should I let that bother me? The past is in the past and it’s not like it’s going to reemerge.”
Dex turns away from Fitz, now studying the window that looks out onto the treehouses that make up Alluveterre.
Fitz can’t really see outside that well with the whole staying-horizontal thing, but Alluveterre itself has taken on a new atmosphere after going to Exile.
It should feel more open, but they’re both just as underground, just as claustrophobic.
The feeling of being trapped in that place, struggling for every breath as the venom coursed through his veins, is going to haunt him for a long time.
Maybe that’s the real Vacker legacy…nearly dying in the middle of Exile going to visit Prentice.
The surrounding circumstances around the visit couldn’t be much more different. His Dad went down there with Sophie to break Fintan’s mind. He went there to break Prentice out.
So much has changed in so few months, there’s no saying where it might go here. All Fitz knows is that Dex is an incredibly skilled Technopath and that he would rather have Dex on his side than against him.
Dex has the capacity to be scary when he wants to be, but he can also be incredibly stuck in his own head, like right now, as he continues to stare out the window.
“What if the past does reemerge?” he whispers.
Fitz looks at him, but he doesn’t turn to make eye contact. “Nothing is going to be a linear process. If you end up deciding that your initial opinion of me was correct, I might get a little mad. That’s just how I react to things sometimes. And I also have an intense desire to be liked by everyone—holy Exile, what was in those painkillers?”
Dex’s response is almost automatic. “It was actually the Oremideae leaves. I think your Great-times-a-gadjillion-uncle-cousin-whatever discovered them. They’re really good at preventing infection, but they also inhibit a little bit of the blood-brain barrier, both physiologically and psychologically. I didn’t realize they’d kick in this quickly…but, I mean, they were crushed...which would increase absorption rate. I can go if this is weird for you.”
Fitz can barely focus on the details of what Dex is saying. He goes off on alchemy-adjacent tangents quite often during the limited instances they’ve interacted and as much as Fitz wants to learn new things, there’s something so inherently distracting about Dex.
“You don’t have to go. Just don’t get mad if and when I say something stupid.”
“I’m sure you won’t say anything stupid.” Dex’s attention lands on Fitz once again, and he takes a few steps toward Fitz’s bed-prison.
“You never know. I am very untrustworthy in that regard.”
Dex is only a large step away from the foot of Fitz’s bed. He sighs. “I really am sorry for everything and a half.”
“I thought you were supposed to be good at maths. Infinity plus half an infinity is still infinity. It won’t change. There’s no reason to operate on an infinitely large quantity.”
Dex’s tone is flat as he says, “It was hyperbole.”
“Oh.” That would make a touch more sense. I’ll just blame it on my brain not functioning, that’s completely plausible.
Dex lowers himself onto the farthest corner of Fitz’s bed. It’s way larger than the ones that Elwin has in the Healing Center at Foxfire, it’s still really close compared to Dex’s normal trend of staying as far away from Fitz as physically possible.
But it’s not a level of closeness that’s anything significant in any other case.
Dex’s words are low, almost to the point where Fitz thinks his filter has slipped to the point of accidentally reading Dex’s thoughts, but it doesn’t have that familiar echoey quality and Dex is avoiding eye contact once again.
“I just want you to know—really know—I’m so sorry about what happened to you. I’d like to promise that it’ll never happen again, but that’s just not something I can guarantee with any level of certainty. That terrifies me to no end, but I guess it just comes with being a Technopath. Hurting everyone around me is just…inevitable.”
“Maybe,” Fitz concedes, “but you’ve also saved us so many times with your Panic Switches and even those first two gadgets today that didn’t malfunction. I don’t remember if you heard about me when my Dad’s mind was broken, but, well, I was a bit of an absolute mess and I lashed out at Sophie. Maybe hurting everyone around me is just an inevitable part of my personality.”
They sit in silence together for a long moment.
Fitz breaks the silence first. “I guess that means that we should be friends. Mutually assured destruction and all that.”
“Even despite the fact that I used to hate you?”
“Yeah. A little animosity will keep things interesting. It’s an integral part of why I’ve tolerated Keefe for so long.”
Dex’s laugh isn’t as light as it used to be, back when they didn’t know each other. They’ve both been through so much, and there’s still so much unknown ahead of them in the future.
“‘Interesting’ is certainly an interesting word choice. But I guess I’ll try. That’s the biggest commitment I can make. Don’t be mad when I start acting like a blockhead again.”
Fitz smiles, struggling to keep his chest muscles from throwing another fit, this time induced by laughter.
Dex has been subjected to the worst of the prejudice it can offer, he’s still here fighting for change. He can be bitter at times, but it’s well deserved. Justified, even. Acting like a blockhead would be the least of Fitz’s concerns if he was in Dex’s situation.
The idea that the worst Dex could do is act like a blockhead is just so far outside of what he should be allowed, it’s almost comical.
Or maybe it’s those Oremideae leaves.
Fitz is enveloped by a strong urge to give Dex a hug, but he can’t tell whether it’s from pity, admiration, the realization that he’s truly broken through Dex’s shell for the first time, or something else he can’t quite describe.
And that’s the same time that the playful grin drops from Dex’s face.
“I should probably leave you to rest and heal. Let me know if there’s anything I can do or get you or—”
“Actually, I do have one small request, if you don’t mind.”
Fitz immediately regrets saying that, but there’s nothing he owns that’s more important to the healing process.
“I don’t mind at all. What can I get you?” Dex’s face is lit up, even if he doesn’t want to show it, with the rush of being helpful. It’s the one thing Fitz remembers from that day at the store—Dex’s absolute delight when he knows where something is.
“Under my bed, there’s a stuffed dragon. He should be pretty obvious. Please try to keep him away from discovery by others.”
“By ‘others’ do you mean Biana or Keefe?” Dex asks as he stands, leaving behind an empty, warm corner of the bed.
“Yes,” Fitz answers, realizing he’s been smiling like a complete and total doofus long enough to make his face muscles hurt.
Dex is gone for a long minute before he returns, brandishing a ruby red dragon, its eyes and sparkles twinkling in the fluorescent lighting as its wings slowly flap from the movement.
Elwin may have given Mr. Snuggles to Fitz when Fitz’s Dad’s mind shattered, but it’s hard to remember a time before it was in his life.
Fitz hadn’t noticed the emptiness settling into his chest after Dex left, but now that he’s back, Fitz is filled with the kind of longing that doesn’t want him to leave again.
“Thank you,” Fitz mumbles as he squeezes Mr. Snuggles so hard it takes a few seconds to return to its original shape.
Dex smiles. “Like I said, let me know if you need anything.”
“Likewise,” Fitz replies. “Although my capabilities might be a touch more limited at the moment.”
Well, that’s an understatement of the century.
Dex leaves without further comment, and Fitz settles himself down into his pillows, clutching Mr. Snuggles close to his chest, the familiar soft fabric a comfort to his otherwise aching muscles.
He’s almost drifted off into sleep when Keefe saunters into his room, apparently brought in by the power vacuum left in Dex’s absence.
And then his gaze lands on Mr. Snuggles sticking out from under the covers. The unrestrained joy as he wrestles Mr. Snuggles from Fitz’s dazed grasp is refreshing to see after knowing there’s been so many weeks that Keefe has been in such a dismal state.
Less refreshing is him parading Mr. Snuggles around and yelling through the entirety of the tree houses of Alluveterre. “You guys have to see this!”
Unmapped stars, have mercy on me.
#kotlc#fedex week 2023#kotlc fedex#fedex#detz#kotlc detz#dex dizznee#kotlc dex#fitz vacker#kotlc fitz
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okay i got this comment on the new OMO chapter a while ago and i was positively GIDDY at the question since im such a fan of nifty worldbuilding!! idk yet if this will ever come up in the fic in detail so im just gonna smack it on here bc i have several ideas!!
How do Yokai and Mutants differentiate from eachother?
in my mind, i believe yokais have a way easier time when it comes to picking out mutants because there are several factors that they can use to their advantage;
1. Scent
Mutants, especially when mixed with some sort of human DNA, tend to smell a lot more human than Yokais. obviously, it gets a little trickier when mutants don’t have any sort of human DNA, which brings us to;
2. Awareness
Mutants with no human DNA tend to more animalistic and instinctual, not unlike the mythical creatures in the Hidden City – even if a yokai cant correctly dub them a mutant, they will write them off as a mythical creature, so it’s usually a simple 50/50 on them.
3. Social Behaviors
the best and most obvious way to spot a mutant for a yokai is how they behave in a typical yokai social setting – obviously, having been previously human or similar, mutants tend to flounder a lot in their new environment, unfamiliar with specific customs or basic social etiquette in yokai culture. by no means are they malicious, but mutants are pretty clumsy at first, which makes them easy to spot in the crowd.
4. Non-Mystic
this one’s a little more unreliable but can be a way to spot a mutant; in general, mutants typically have little to no mystic abilities. i believe most yokais have some sort of mystic ability to different degrees, but mutants do not. however, there can be outliers, such as the turtles, but their mystics is also a point of contention since it isnt really “yokai” mystics but more of a generational human mystics ability. however, it still gets categorized as mystics so they remain the outliers of this, which is why this route of detection isnt always 100% reliable.
on the flipside of it all, the poor mutants arent really that adept at differentiating who’s mutant and who’s not – i think only with time they start to take note of the little differences, but generally speaking it’s a little harder for them to immediately spot a fellow mutant.
Do only Yokai wear Cloaking Devices?
yes and no. generally, cloaking spells and devices are a lot more wide-spread within the yokai community than the mutants, only because it happens to be a yokai invention. that, and they can be rather expensive, depending where you get it from, who made it and the strength of the spell/device. that’s why it’s usually safe to assume 98% of the time the person wearing some mystic cloaking device is a yokai of some kind. mutants arent really aware such things exist until they’ve lived under the yokai for a while and hear about it. and while they arent super accessible, mutants can get their hands on them too if they wish to do so.
Do Yokai view Mutants differently?
that varies from person to person. generally speaking, mutants arent being discriminated against in the Hidden City, however some yokai can be rather distrustful at first since mutants used to be human, especially yokai who initially were born from human effects (eg. curses and other spirits). the non-human mutants tend to be just like their regular creatures so they’re usually seen as a mundane headache when they tip over some poor yokai’s trashcan again. many mutants tend to seek refuge in the Hidden City as they no longer believe they fit in with their human kin Topside, so a good chunk of the Hidden City’s population are mutants – its safe to assume that there are also mutant-yokai offspring popping up.
so yeah!! here are my worldbuilding ideas that i’ve been thinking about!! honestly i cant wait to write about the Hidden City in general bc i just LOVE the concept of it so much OAAAAA
#turtle files: headcanon#omo files: worldbuilding#omo files: behind the scene#odd man out#i fucking love putting in little details in my fics#and whenever asks questions abt them#or points em out im just#HEHEHEHEHE
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Ew The Freak’s Sister
summary: Y/N is a transfer student living with Eddie who has joined the cheerleading squad for her college application. This is where she met arguably her least favourite person, Jason Carver. The pair bicker constantly, but to everyone other than them there seems to be tension behind it.
warnings: slight cursing, none others
Word count: 2642
A/N:Written because there is a criminal lack of Jason x reader content and I am here to provide. Might be cross-posted to ao3. This is a part of a larger self-insert fic I'm working on with my friends but can be enjoyed separately. I might end up writing a second chapter if I feel like it, or there's literally any demand at all. also, I put Chrissy with Andy because I didn't want her to be single. In this AU Chrissy and Jason never dated so there isn't any bad blood.
“Sorry Nance, as much as I would literally love to get this homework done early, I've got practise after school” Y/N complained thinking about the two hours of jumping about in the autumn heat they had to look forward to.
“I’ll probably stick around in the library anyway and meet up with you after practice, I might actually be able to focus. It’s impossible to get work done with how chaotic my house is.” Nance explained as the two got closer to their last class of the day, psychology.
“You're a lifesaver Nance. Meet me by the front of the school when you’re done. I think Eddies picking me up so you can grab a lift with us.” This had become a semi-regular routine for the girls where whenever one had an after-school activity, the other would find something to keep them occupied until it was over. Then they would catch a lift to one of their houses (very often the trailer) and hang out for a while. After their plans had been settled the two took their seat and got ready for a long hour of note-taking.
After class Y/N bid goodbye to Nancy and walked down the halls towards the locker room to stash their bags and emotionally prepare for a long practice.
“Hey Y/N,” Someone said the locker next to Y/N’s opened and things began to be placed inside.
“Afternoon Chrissy.” They replied changing into a pair of trainers, “You have any clue what we’re doing today? We’ve run more than enough drills, we’ve gotta be on to choreo soon.” Y/N guessed as best as she could while they finished tying her laces.
“I don’t know what we’re doing. But, I do know we have to share a space with the basketball guys today” Chrissy casually mentioned. Y/N paused for a minute to process the terrible news she had just been told as if it was nothing was wrong. However, according to Y/N, there was a lot wrong with having to share practice space. Practically speaking it seriously limited what could get done at practice. Arguably worse than reducing productivity was the fact that Jason would be spending the entire practice making Y/N regret showing up.
“Chris,” Y/N paused for a second. “Please tell me that you’re joking. I’m begging you, tell me this is a joke.” the desperation in her voice was palpable.
“Nope,” Chrissy said popping the p and turning around to face a distraught, fully ready Y/N, “ I heard it from Andy at lunch. Why?” Before Y/N could rise out of the little pit of despair they had dug themself into long enough to respond Chrissy answered her own question. “Oh, Jason. You two are always fighting, right? I'm sure he’ll be too busy with his practice to even notice you’re there”
He was not, in fact, too busy to notice her. Nor was he too busy to bother them.
In fact, since Jason had heard about the change in practice location from his coach at lunch he had been looking forward to some entertainment. Y/N was oh so easy to piss off on a regular day. During practice when she has to run and jump about for an hour in a skirt even Chrissy complains about being uncomfortably short Y/N’s buttons were going to be easier to push than the keys on a keyboard.
Meanwhile, in the boys' locker room a very similar topic was being explored.
“You guys think we’re even gonna get anything done if we have to share a practice space?” Andy asked the other guys as they got changed.
“I honestly have no clue. I mean cheerleaders cant take up THAT much room. It's not like it's a real sport or anything.” Chance replied. Chance had a bad habit of blurting out the first thing that pops into his head. There was never any malice behind anything he said, he just always blurted out the wrong thing. Sometimes this landed him in sticky situations, sometimes it earned him an eye roll and more often than he would like to admit it landed him in lunch detentions. This time it got him a light smack to the back of his head.
“Chance shut up you airhead. You try jump about non-stop for an hour.” Andy, who had delivered the smack, countered. Everyone else got the sense that Andy was just repeating back a conversation Chrissy had very clearly had before. Generally when Andy came out with something that well reasoned it was copied verbatim from Chrissy.
“I don't know how much we’ll get done, but it should be a pretty entertaining practice,” Patrick added pulling his practice uniform on.
“Huh?” Jason looked to his friend for clarification.
“Oh yeah!” Andy said from Jason's left, making him feel like he was the only one out of the four who didn't get the joke. Even Chance is nodding along. Whether or not he was in on the joke, only he knew. “Jason’s favourite person is gonna be there. She's on the cheer team.” Andy continues. He emphasised favourite person and laughed a little under his breath.
“Oh yeah, I guess she will be.” Jason knew exactly who they were talking about. This line of teasing could only be about one person, Y/N. He and Y/N had been trading back and forth insults almost every day since she arrived in Hawkins. When she first got here they bumped into each other in the halls and while she apologised he laughed a little and the seemingly sweet shy girl in front of him, mainly because he had no clue who she was, before showing her to her first class. This sweet introduction was promptly ruined when Y/N happened to find Jason shouting at Eddie from the other end of the hall calling him a freak.
The seemingly shy girl turned to him and began berating him in the corridor in a thicker accent than he had heard her use all day. She called him every name she could think of and asked him what on earth got into his head that raised his ego high enough to call other freaks. Jason was shocked, embarrassed and a little confused why the newest cheerleader was so insistent on standing up for the freak. He later learned she was his roommate and host-sister. Y/N and Jason hadn't been able to be in the same space for more than thirty minutes without a fight breaking out since.
These little fights had become a serious source of teasing for Jason amongst his teammates. Most often just found the sight of her on her toes, finger in his face while she ranted quite funny, they found it even funnier after he found out that the best way to rile the girl up was to not respond and just look at them smugly. This led to Y/N getting more and more worked up until they inevitably stormed off, cheer-mandated ponytail bouncing with rage.
In short, Jason was looking forward to someone to aggravate for an hour. Jason began to zone the others out as he got ready he heard snippets of the conversation around him. He zoned back in occasionally to comment but he was mostly in his own world, up until he heard some of the sophomore bench warmers turn the conversation towards how they were excited to see the cheerleaders and their skirts at practice. That was when he put an end to the conversation and ordered the boys to meet him on the court in two minutes.
That was a line Jason wouldn't allow to be crossed, not on his team. Obviously, being captain Jason was first on the court and met Chrissy who was organising the girls for warm-ups. Y/N was indeed there with the others tightening her ponytail before the warm-up jog. When she looked up and accidentally made eye contact with Jason their eyes rolled so far into her skull that for a second he worried they might get stuck. Jason rolled his eyes at her just before she jogged off. Sometimes, scratch that, most of the time, he found her to be obnoxious, annoying and a bit of a bitch. He had to admit she looked prettier than he wanted to admit in her uniform.
Jason spent more of that practice than he wanted to admit distracted. However, this may just be the best he has performed at practice all year. His teammates had noticed the improvement in his playing and a few theories were spun. Some of the younger ones believed that Jason had a crush on one of the cheerleaders and was showing off to get her attention, guesses on who it was varied pretty heavily. One extremely creative freshman guessed it was Chrissy and he was trying to impress her into leaving Andy, he was of course wrong. Jason’s friends assumed it was something to do with his spiked blood pressure from being around Y/N. Patrick had a feeling that it wasn’t just annoyance pushing him to play this way. Maybe somewhere, deep in his subconscious, he was actually showing off. It had gotten to the point where Patrick genuinely had no clue if those two still hated each other or just had two years of tension that needs to be worked through. He had a sneaking suspicion that neither of them was ready for that realisation.
Y/N’s practice was relatively normal. The biggest point of difference was that anytime she made eye contact they would flip him off as subtly as possible to avoid getting in trouble with her coaches. This fueled Jason’s fire, causing him to play better. Him playing better meant him looking over to her more every time he scored to silently brag. Triggering them flipping him off, and continuing the cycle for the rest of the practice.
Jason’s effort made her want to try harder so as to not be outdone by him of all people. This led to both of them lying on the floor in a puddle of exhaustion by the end of practice, having worked far harder than a random Tuesday required. Neither team was happy about the sudden burst of energy as they all had to try and keep up with it. Most of cheer was spent on drills and the boys spent most of the day on practice matches.
By the time Chrissy managed to drag Y/N back into the locker room to get changed she was panting like a dog and Chrissy had questions.
“So why were you trying so hard today?” Chrissy was very clearly trying to sound casual.
“No reason in particular. Guess I just had a lot of energy.” They replied under their breath with her face deep in their locker, trying to dismiss this line of questioning. As lovely as Chrissy is there is no way she is going to take “I spent the whole practice competing with a boy for no apparent reason other than our tension-filled year-long rivalry” as a valid explanation that needs no further probing.
“Are you sure? Because if you were maybe trying to get the attention of one of the basketball guys, I could help. I mean I’m dating Andy and he's friends with all the seniors, so-” she paused to fix her shirt “you know I could probably set you up.” Exactly what Y/N expected.
“Nope Chris. I swear I’m good.” they replied as they gathered stuff for a quick shower, “I’m not particularly into eejits or cocky assholes.” The last bit wasn’t fully true but Chrissy wasn't close enough to know that. In fact, Y/N’s attraction to cocky assholes was not only well known amongst her friends, but often a source of friendly mockery.
Nancy had finished up in the library about ten minutes before it closed and took the spare time to grab a can of New Coke for herself and a bottle of water for her friend, who had an awful habit of not bringing any water to long practices. Before walking slowly down to meet her outside the locker room.
As Nancy arrived at the locker room practice had just ended, meaning she had at least ten minutes probably fifteen or twenty to wait for Y/N to get dressed so Nancy sat down on the floor and pulled out her well-worn copy of Carrie by Stephen King. If she was going to have to wait, she might as well be as comfy as possible while doing it.
After about ten minutes the boys started to slowly trickle out of the locker room. Lucas was one of the first and stop to chat with Nancy for a bit. Just exchanging pleasantries. Nancy hadn’t seen him much since summer ended and hadn’t found the time to congratulate him for making the basketball team last month.
By the time she was nearly done with chapter seven of her book, she was rudely interrupted by a loud scoff. An annoying scoff that could only come from one cocky blonde basketball captain.
“If it isn’t Wheeler number 2,” he said and when she looked up she noticed his blonde hair was still damp from his shower and falling messily into his face. He looked more tired than anyone else did coming out of the locker room and even Lucas had looked a little worse for wear.
“If it isn’t a waste of sperm.” Nancy retorted looking back down at her book. “You look more disgusting than usual than normal Carver, was it a long day of tossing balls into laundry baskets then?” she said, sarcasm dripping from her voice. If Jason had an offended look on his smug face she didn't care enough to look up and appreciate it.
“What are you even doing here Wheeler? Last time I checked this isn’t the editing room.” For some reason, Jason seemed to believe that his spot on the basketball team made him more important than the work she puts into the school paper. Social hierarchy bullshit and all that.
“Piss off Jason. I can sit where I want when I want.” her eyes rolled behind the book.
“You know, if you really wanted to check out the guys’ that badly you could just talk to us. It would be an improvement from whatever you have going on with the pervert-”
“Fuck right off asshole. She’s here to get me not stroke your mates' fragile ego” came Y/N’s voice from the door to the girls changing room. They turned to their friend “sorry I took so long, you good Nance?” clearly she had been in the shower because her brown her was tied back with damp strands framing their face.
“Yeah all good, just an annoying noise in here,” she said packing up her bag and ignoring the pissy toddler standing next to her. “Eddie still picking us up?”
“He better be or I’m calling Steve, no way I’m walking home after that practice.”
“Harrington? Please don’t tell me you guys have dragged him down to your cult nonsense” Jason seemed genuinely horrified that his old role model Steve “the king” Harrington had fallen to the level of Eddie Munson and his freak crew.
“What about it? Jealous you don't get to kiss his ass anymore.” Nancy teased having witnessed the puppy dog-like expression that Jason would often follow Steve about with during his earlier years at Hawkins High. Unfortunately, Y/N hadn’t moved to Hawkins at the time and missed that phase, meaning less material for mockery.
“You two suck.” Jason said as if it was the best comeback of the year.
“And you swallow” Y/N responded as the two walked out to the car park.
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Here’s a sneak peak of a Gaz x Price fic I’m writing… would anyone be interested in more?
Captain Price x Gaz ….. don’t like don’t read
PriceGaz/GazPrice - moving in together, meeting Gaz’s family
Chapter 1
They were getting a long leave for once. It felt like the past few missions had been back to back, and the entire team very obviously were feeling it. None of them had even a minute to themselves lately, so it felt like the angels themselves were delivering the message from their higher ups: a multi-month leave! Gaz and Price were both work-a-holics, but this would be the perfect recharge. And they actually got leave at the same time. Damn near divine timing right there.
Both Gaz and Price, as well as the rest of their team, were exiting the C-140; duffels were in hand and exhaustion was written in their steps. But, when boots hit the ground there was a newfound energy.
“Gaz, I’m headed to debrief but it won’t take long. Meet you back in the room?” Price addressed him directly, remaining in mission-mode until all was said and done. Gaz nodded back and both headed their respective directions. They were lucky enough to have a shared room on base (141 privileges and all that) - even before their relationship began, they found it easier to sleep with the other nearby. There was an implicit trust that came with risking everything together, and a sense of safety when your partner saves your life on a regular basis. When they had first confessed, that same safety and security had started to be found ten-fold in Price’s bed; Gaz’s slowly becoming abandoned (“slowly”.... If that’s synonymous with one night. The second they started dating, Gaz took it as blanket permission and never looked back). Gaz sighed as he thought about how different this shower and sleep were about to hit. He knew neither him nor Price would want to waste precious leave time on base, so they’d probably be hopping back on a flight to London tomorrow.
As much as Kyle was a family man and couldn’t wait to see his mum and sisters, John was also his family now. He didn’t want to just part ways tomorrow - they hadn’t had any real time together outside of their work in a while, and Gaz was going to explode and also die if he didn’t get it soon. Although Price held it together better, inside it was really starting to grate on him too. They had been dating for over six months now, after everything that had happened they just went for it. This wasn’t casual for either of them, their line of work didn’t allow for anything to be done half-assed. Unfortunately, they hadn’t had a substantial leave together - only on-base breaks. This pattern wasn’t anything new - Kyle had long since given up on a normal work schedule, would honestly hate it if he had one, even though he’d appreciate more time at home. If only you could be two places at once….he quickly shut down that train of thought when his mind wandered to some other possibilities that would bring.
Because of his work pattern, he had never bothered fully moving out of his mum’s place; he basically didn’t live there and used it as a storage facility/crash pad anyways. Again, he was a family-oriented person - why would he want to waste his time off not catching up with them? For Price, his brain helpfully supplied. But why not both? Was the next helpful whisper. Of course he’d already told his family he was seeing someone, very seriously. He may have already broken down and told them this was it for him, but that was neither here nor there. He had left out some (possibly key) details. Such as the man was older than him. And his commanding officer. All in good time right? Even if they disapproved he knew they’d be happy for him eventually. His family was tight knit, especially after his dad’s passing when Kyle was a young teenager. Soon after, his oldest sister had moved back in to help out, which his mum would be forever grateful for. His middle sister moved out and eventually settled on her own, but stayed close by. Nine times out of ten, she’d be at the house too. Gaz could only describe his childhood home as a place of love; chaos, but loving chaos none-the-less. As the baby and now only man of his family, he felt a deep loyalty to them. Even after the ear-shattering fights between him and his sisters as kids. Now he just had to plan how to ask John to be introduced to them - a shiver ran down him at that. He needed it to work out between both parties. He wasn’t worried about John per say, mainly his family’s reaction and their chaos scaring John off. Then again, John did deal with the 141 on a regular basis.
With that thought, he realized he had walked on autopilot all the way back to their room. Fumbling with the key in the lock, he slammed the door open and practically threw his duffle at the end of the bed. The sunglasses and hat barely made it onto the desk next. He felt downright grimy. Unpacking could wait until after this glorious, glorious shower. Deployment had a way of making him grateful for the barrack’s bathrooms to a degree he never thought possible.
#gazprice#gaz#kyle Garrick x John price#captain John price#captain price x gaz#Gaz x John price#cod fanfic#mw2#Gaz x price#pricegaz
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You once said something about the incongruity between how you might feel about a particular Joelkemon and how popular he is. How do you manage the anxiety that the next chapter of a story might not be what you wanted it to be? I'm juggling three or four series and someone said they liked one (holy shit! Someone else liked it! Tee hee) of them and asked me for a part two (which I was gonna do anyway) but now I'm writing it and it's killing me that this might not be as good or as well characterized (and maybe I just needed to toss this into the brothel where my man NW can share with me a new strain and we can fuck the publishing-day scaries away).
Also no, I don't think my regular writing has such Thomas Hardy-esque (read fucking long ass) sentences lol. Actually, if you need to call me something...that... Thomas Hardy-esque. I probably deserve that lmao.
LMAO night walks has a strain for everything.
Ok Thomas Hardy anon, I'll let you in on my secret, which is having a pretty bad track record at predicting what will and won't be a hit, to the point where anxiety about it is meaningless. IDK how many times I've thought "this is too much, no one's gonna be into this lol oh well" and people were more into it than other stuff. or "why am I ruining this with ___ and i cant stop myself?" and I still did it bc it felt right for the character and the ___ is like people's favorite part. On the flip side there have been follow-up fics where I thought it was hot but it felt like most people just stopped reading the series lol like night walks late night dip (but he kinda recovered with the next one). I guess it's most important that it feels right to you. I know if I don't like something I can scrap/start over or overhaul it into one I really like before sharing. And if it's just not happening, maybe he doesn't wanna be written, the key thots might come easier some other time, like when I least expect it and often when I'm trying to work on something else 😐 but then it feels so right 🤡
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i know no one asked for this but i really don’t get why people have been saying you did CH dirty or that you‘re lazy.
i really don‘t think people understand that you are as a women with a job/occupation spending your free time writing for FREE on an app for everyone to read. like you don‘t even have to do this but still here you are with many works that i personally and a lot of other people really enjoyed.
i don‘t think they get that them thinking you did bad is relevant. like everyone has different tastes and that‘s ok if you didn‘t like it which you don‘t have to then don‘t.
but telling someone who obviously struggles with people telling them that their work, they put a lot of effort in, is bad (which i completely understand since it seem ppl don‘t know how to give proper constructive criticism) will just make everything worse.
if you have proper criticism you could nicely tell that person and that‘s it. actually considering that you post here on tumblr again for FREE and are not selling any books or wtv people have no right to criticise you at all.
i really need everyone to understand that you‘re doing this in your free time as a hobby(?) and that you have more important things in your life to do than trying to satisfy random people on the internet.
and for you babe please really don‘t get demotivated by comments like this. i can see from everything you‘ve put out that you enjoy writing and you‘re very good at it. but sometimes in situations like these it‘s better to take a break from things. i don‘t know you personally so obviously i cant and wont tell you to just stop writing but dont EVER feel bad for taking breaks or needing a few more days to post a new chapter. getting negative comments on something you genuinely enjoy doing can be the worst for someone and their mental health.
i love you baby take care <3
THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!!!!🤍 you basically wrote my thoughts down i cant lie, i could have not worded it better and agree 100%. i think a lot of readers nowadays (cough cough, younger ones) are so used to things being produced fast and in mass that they get super frustrated when you don't do something their way or to their liking and i'm like..you dont pay me a dime..you don't appreciate me at all..you see me as my content and not a regular human being with a life..go fuck yourself 😭😭
im so so so glad most of you guys arent as entitled and arrogant and demanding and rude, it's definitely so much easier when surrounef by all this love and support than this negative energy and i hope you know i appreciate you so much. thank you for your words baby i gope you have a great day 🥺🤍
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2, 4, 10, 20
2. Tell us about what you’re most looking forward to writing – in your current project, or a future project
I have a fic I've been chipping away at for a while now that I’m really excited about. It deals with an older PeterMJ, and what life might look like in the event that Peter would no longer have his powers. It’s so much more than that but it’s hard to explain in its totality without ruining the story. But I’m excited for it for so many reasons, one being that it deals so much with what it means for Peter to be Spider-Man, what the consequences are of that. Another thing being that it’ll be my first time writing other characters in the universe such as Sam Wilson, Bruce Banner and others. I’m waiting to build up a substantial backlog (maybe even finish writing it) before I start posting because unlike my current WIPs that are very theme driven, this fic would be very plot driven, which means it’d benefit from more regular posting.
4. Share a sentence or paragraph from your writing that you’re really proud of (explain why, if you like)
I couldn’t think of a specific SM one so here’s one from a fic I wrote for The Bear called Drive.:
But what he’s come to realise is that while Richie had shaped himself into the borders of Michael’s presence, Carmen had shaped himself around the hole of Michael’s absence. And while it’s not the same, Richie knows now that both of those options are equally horrible ways to live.
10. How would you describe your writing process?
I'm not sure how much of a process I have, actually. Maybe that's the problem. Perhaps it's easier to counteract things like writers' block when you have a solid process to fall back on. But it’s usually just something sparks inspiration, and then either I open up a doc and just start writing something, which will more often than not will end up being a longshot. Or, if it’s a longer story that I want to tell, then I draw up a loose bullet pointed plan before separating it into chapters and then start writing. As for the writing itself, almost all whims, no rhyme or reason lol. Maybe one little trick I have is that I lean on poetry sometimes. If there are sentences or ideas that feel too clunky when written down, I ask myself how I’d express it if I were writing a poem, and then adapt from that starting point.
20. Tell us the meta about your writing that you really want to ramble to people about (symbolism you’ve included, character or relationship development that you love, hidden references, callbacks or clues for future scenes?)
This is hard to answer today! I’m sure there are lots, and it’s probably different for every work. There are certain things I lean on in my writing often—like, I like it when characters have deep conversations in bathrooms. There’s a symbolism there but I’m not sure quite what it is yet. I also love shadow scenes, or repetition. When there’s an earlier scene that’s re-experienced later in the narrative after a character or characters have been through things and changed.
Meta fic asks
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After the Fire ~ Chapter Twenty-Four
Summary: Following the Battle of the Five Armies, a grievously wounded Thorin is brought back to the kingdom of Erebor, which is still mostly in ruins. Although he’s survived the wounds he received at the end of Azog’s blade, his recovery is far from complete. Grief, regret, anger, all are making his journey that much more difficult and the physical recovery isn’t quite the most difficult challenge he faces.
Jasna Stoneham is no stranger to loss, as she is a survivor of Smaug’s wrath upon Esgaroth. When she is asked to help the dwarves healers of Erebor, her instinct is to say no, but she needs the job, and so agrees to it. However, no one told her that of all the patients, she would be responsible for the king himself, Thorin Oakenshield.
Unfortunately, the road to recovery isn’t necessary a smooth one, but if there’s one thing Thorin will learn, it’s that Jasna is just as stubborn as he is and for every step back he takes, she is there to push him three steps forward. And Jasna will soon find out that there is a gentle, softer side to the dwarf king, one that very few people have ever seen and one he fights to keep hidden from her as well. But like his recovery, that is also easier said than done.
Jasna hears of Thorin’s engagement while she struggles to keep up with her studies and has to deal with a curmudgeonly teacher.
Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield x ofc Jasna Stoneham
Characters: Jasna, Bard, Mr. Templeton,Thorin, Shael, Dís, Bilbo
Warnings: none
Rating: T
Word Count: 4,662
Tag List: @tschrist1 @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @arrthurpendragon @exhausted-humxn-being @rachel1959 @laurfilijames @sketch-and-write-lover @sherala007 @enchantzz @knitastically @notlostgnome @myselfandfantasy @medusas-hairband @guardianofrivendell @jotink78 @sorisooyaa @ruthoakenshield @quiall321 @dianakc
If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!
Previous chapters can be found here.
Day after day, Jasna kept busy with work. Mr. Templeton ran Dale’s small, but necessary clinic and he had agreed to finish her training, so when she wasn't with patients, she was in the the backroom with her nose buried in the texts Óin and Narnerra gave her to take when she left Erebor. Unlike Óin, Mr. Templeton gave regular examinations and while she didn’t embarrass herself on the tests, she certainly didn't have him thinking she was the brightest pupil he’d ever had, either. And no matter how hard she worked, how hard she studied, he was never entirely pleased with the results. Nor was he shy about telling her so, either. Back in Esgaroth, he wasn’t quite as intense as he was now, and she simply didn't know what to make of the change, only that she hated it with every fiber of her being. Night after night, she dragged herself home, wondering why she ever wanted to follow this path. Morning after morning, she argued with herself to convince herself to go back.
“Only a few more weeks and break will be upon me,” she muttered, sitting at the small kitchen table alone, nursing a cup of tea that had long gone cold. Mama was already in the marketplace, arranging floral pieces for those who could easily afford them. She had an artistic eye and a flair for color, and while Mr. Eamonds promised her the shop would be hers one day, Jasna would only believe that when she saw it for herself.
“Just go. If you’re late, he’ll bluster about all morning like an old sorehead.” She shoved the tea away and got to her feet. Spring was in the air once the sun rose high overhead, but mornings were still chilly, with silvery frost dotting here and there, so she whisked her cloak about her shoulders and braced herself for the cold.
The sun was out, the sky was blue and cloudless, but the chill hung in the air and by the time she reached the clinic, her fingers and the tip of her nose felt almost frozen. Mr. Templeton frowned as she came int through the main doors. “You are late, Miss Stoneham.”
She looked at the clock on the counter. “It’s not quite eight yet, Mr. Templeton. I’m ac-ac-actually ear-ear-ear—”
“Do not argue with me,” he replied coldly, turning away. “I need you to work up front this morning. Miss Elke will not be here today.”
“But—” Jasna’s protest died on her lips as he strode off toward his small office at the back of the reception area. She scowled, looking at the front desk where all she’d be allowed to do was check people in and make certain they weren’t dying. Elke seemed to be under the impression she could come and go as she pleased—probably since Mr. Templeton let her do just that—and this was third time in seven days Jasna had to fill in for her. Seven days were she could be learning medicine or studying, or both—but instead, she would sit there and do nothing else. She could try to study, but it could be difficult if things grew hectic.
Still, she swept her cloak from her shoulders, hung it on its peg, and sank into the chair at the desk. The mess drove her mad. Elke operated in a state of perpetual chaos and Jasna had no idea where anything was on the desk. The tray holding charts to be filed looked about to collapse under the weight of said filing. Pens were here and there. There was no ink in the well. And as she went to fetch some from the supply cupboard, the bell above the door tinkled merrily and she bit back a groan as four people hurried in from the cold.
The one good thing about being so busy was her morning flew by and by noon, the waiting area was quiet once more. She looked up as a father and daughter came in. “G-good morning. H-how can I help you?”
“My daughter has a splinter and I think it might be infected. Could someone take a look?”
“I’ll n-n-need to take some information first, so h-ha-have a seat and I will be with you s-s-s-shortly.”
The father offered up a queer look, his arm about his daughter’s shoulders as he steered her to the far end of the waiting room, as if he was afraid she might catch Jasna’s stutter.”
“Jasna?”
She looked up and smiled as Bard came through the door. “Are you s-s-sick?”
“No. I’m fine. I just thought I’d come and see if perhaps I could steal you away from here for a bit.”
“M-m-me?”
He nodded. “Yes. You. I saw your mother in the square and she said you’ve been being run ragged by Templeton on a daily basis, so I thought a change of scenery might be in order.”
“That would be w-w-w-wonderful. Just give me a minute to check this girl in.”
“Of course.”
She moved to the father and daughter, smiling as she took down the information she needed, then took the chart to Mr. Templeton. “If you don’t mind, I’m g-g-going to st-st-step out for a few m-m-m-minutes.”
“This girl is the only one here?”
Jasna nodded. “Yes.”
A heavy sigh as if her taking a break was a great inconvenience for him. “If you must. You need to study, Miss Stoneham. Your last exam was atrocious. I’d think you’d never opened a medical text in your life based on that mess.”
Her cheeks grew warm. “The n-n-n-neck is d-d-dif-diff—hard to remember.”
“A poor excuse, indeed.” He looked back at the papers on his desk, waving a dismissive hand toward the door. “Go. Be back in ten minutes.”
“Yes, Mr. Templeton.”
She went back out to where Bard was waiting and lifted her cloak from its peg. “I’ve but t-t-ten minutes.”
“That’s quite generous of him.”
She bit back a smile. “It actually is.”
“Come. There’s something I think we need to discuss.”
He sounded so serious, that her stomach clenched. “What is it?”
“Not here.” He held open the door for her. “Come and take a walk.”
“Bard, w-w-what is it?”
He didn't answer right away, but his hand came to rest at the small of her back and he gently steered her down the street, away from the small clinic. The road rose, and Erebor came into view in the distance, stark and slightly menacing. “Bard, what is it?”
“I’ve heard rumors and I’ve no reason to believe they are false.”
The knots in her belly tightened. Has someone found out about the night she’d spent with. Thorin? And if so, what were they saying about her that had Bard looking so very serious now?
“Rumors?”
“Rumors.” His voice remained flat and expressionless, which did nothing to ease her growing discomfort. But that was all he said until they reached the far end of the road, where he leaned against the waist-high wall of cream-colored stone and stared off toward Erebor. “Why did you leave Erebor?”
For some reason, that single question made her stomach kink. Had someone found out about the night she’d spent with Thorin? Had it reached more than only Bard in Dale? She swallowed hard. “They no longer n-n-needed me.”
He glanced over at her, one dark brow slightly raised. “Did they ask you to leave?”
“No. I chose to. Bard, wh-what are you about?”
“The rumors are Thorin Oakenshield has been betrothed. To a friend of his sister’s? Shanyra? Shaerra? Oh, I know I met her, but for the life of me, cannot recall her blasted name.”
“Shael. Her name is Shael. Shael Whitbow,” she broke in softly, her heart plummeting into her stomach with enough force, it sent up a sickening splash that sent a sour taste flooding her mouth. “So, it did happen, then?”
Bard’s eyes narrowed as he met her gaze. “You know of her?”
“I do, yes. She is from Ered Luin and this has been expected for a while now, so it is no great surprise. At least, not to me.”
“You knew of this?”
“I did, yes. Narnerra told me.”
“Narnerra—I thought you and Thorin—”
Her back stiffened at his unfinished thought. “You thought Thorin and I what?”
“Nothing,” he shook his head head, “I thought wrong.”
“Bard?”
“I thought that perhaps, because you’d spent so much time with the Durin men, you might—no, I’ve no desire to insult you.”
“You aren’t.” She sank onto the wall beside him. Her heart ached as she looked across the plains at Erebor, the pain unlike anything she’d ever felt before. She felt bereft, as if she’d lost her place in the world and now floundered about desperately trying to keep from drowning in sorrow. “At one point,” she began slowly, “I thought there might b-b-be something. I was wrong.”
“He is a fool, then.”
“No,” she said softly, shaking her head, “I am the fool, I’m afraid. He is a king, Bard. I’m a m-medical student who cannot do a th-th-thing right it seems.” She turned away from Erebor, looking instead to the clinic at the end of the lane. “And I should probably go back before I am no longer that, even.”
“Jasna?” He caught her by the hand as she rose from the wall. “Are you all right?”
“I will be.” She managed to smile, then leaned in and brushed his cheek with a kiss. “In time. I should g-g-get back.”
He didn't try to stop her and for the rest of the day, Jasna managed to get done what she needed do, and at half-four, Mr. Templeton emerged from his office. “I will see you tomorrow, Miss Stoneham. Do not be late.”
“But, I thought I m-m-might retake my last exam?”
“Not this evening. Finish the filing and then you may leave.”
He offered her no opportunity to argue, but swept out of the clinic and into soft light of dusk and with a heavy sigh, Jasna sank into her chair at the front desk once more. Her eyes stung now, the tears she’d managed to hold back finally breaking free. Although she’d known the announcement regarding Thorin’s engagement was coming, she had never dreamed it would sting like a thousand nettles across her soul.
Despite what she’d told Mama, and told her more than once, a part of Jasna had the wild dream that Thorin would come back to Dale looking for her. That he’d come through the clinic doors and refuse to leave until she saw him, until she spoke to him.
Until she agreed to be his.
But each time the small bell tinkled, it was someone else entirely. And each time that happened, her heart broke into smaller pieces. It’d happened so often, she was certain she had only dust where her heart had once been.
Still, she tried to carry on with a smile, comforting those who needed it, cheering those who needed that. But her mind was never far from Erebor and a certain dark-haired, blue eyed dwarf king.
The door opened, the bell mocking her as the postman said, “Ah, Miss Stoneham, I’m glad I caught you. You’ve a package here and I was afraid I’d missed you.”
“What?” She dragged her sleeve across her eyes as she rose from her chair to peer at the parcel in Mr. Edgar’s hand. “A package?”
“Aye, a package. Now, don’t work too late, or too hard.” He winked, and then was gone, the bell’s tinkling slowly going quiet.
She stared at the small parcel wrapped in brown paper, then picked it up to take back to the small, dusty room where she normally studied, and set it on her desk. It bore no return address and for a moment, she debated about just sweeping it into the rubbish bin. Every once in a while, a grateful patient took it upon themselves to send her gifts and more often than not, said giver was a child and the package little more than colorful pebbles or an equally colorful drawing of sorts. The walls of her study room were lined with such artworks.
But this felt… different.
So she tore off the brown paper and stared down at the beautiful teak box that in itself was a work of art. For reasons she couldn’t explain, her heart beat faster, her blood roared through her ears, and her hands shook as she went to lift the lid.
It opened without a sound and tears flooded her eyes for probably the thousandth time that week as she found herself staring down at the most beautiful pair of earrings she’d ever seen. Pear shaped sapphires of the deepest blue, surrounded by diamonds so clean, they appeared white lay nestled in a bed of pure white velvet..
Sapphire.
“Ready to w-w-walk about, Your Majesty?”
He offered up a level look. “What will it take to get you to call me anything but that?”
She pursed her lips as if giving it deep thought, then said, “The bluest sapphire in that treasure hoard.”
“I beg your pardon?”
She nodded. “B-b-blue is my favorite color.”
“A sapphire.”
“I’ve never had one.”
“I will give you all of the sapphires I can find down there, if you will only call me Thorin.”
He’d remembered.
The stones sparkled as if lit from within as she lifted one to cradle in her palm. She closed her fingers around it, and brought it to her cheek, whispering, “I miss you…”
A small sheet of parchment had been tucked into the box as well. She swallowed hard as she returned the earring to its bed and plucked the parchment up to unfold.
“Jasna,
I know it took me some time to hold up my end of our bargain, but it wasn't that I forgot. It took me a while to find the bluest sapphire in my possession. I think the stone from which these came is it and I can only imagine how stunning these will look on you.
I do hope you like them.
Thorin”
Her lips quivered. Her throat closed. The parchment slipped from her grasp, fluttering to the floor. She sank into her chair, burying her face in her hands. However, the sobs didn't emerge. Her eyes spilled over, tears streaked down her cheeks, but she didn't sob this time.
She sniffed, drawing the back of her hand across her eyes, then swiped at her cheeks before bending to snatch the parchment from the floor. Pressing her lips together to still them, she smoothed the parchment across the desk and read it again, then she just stared down at the words, far more elegant than she would have imagined Thorin’s handwriting to be. She didn't know why it surprised her, aside from he was just so rough and gruff that for him to have such beautiful penmanship was like when she got her first glimpse of his softer, tender side. It was like being given access to a part of him that very few were allowed to have.
She had to finish the filing, but then, she was locking everything up and tucking her key into her pocket alongside the small box holding the earrings. She didn't even realize she’d begun crying again until she reached her front door and her cheeks were wet.
Thorin sighed softly as he leaned against the parapet. Twilight streaked the sky indigo and gold and in the distance, over the Long Lake, stars began spangling across the growing darkness.
“Thorin?”
He stiffed at the sound of Shael’s voice floating on the light breeze. He turned toward her. “Yes?”
“Do you have a minute?”
“Of course.” He turned away from the parapet toward her. “What is it?”
Her expression was serious, her eyes wide as they met his. “We’ve known each other a long time, haven’t we?”
“We have, yes.”
“And we can be honest with one another, or at least, I hope we can.” She strolled out along the rampart, hands clasped before her. “Right?”
“Miss Whitbow, what is on your mind?”
“I saw them.” She came up alongside him, turning toward Dale as she leaned her elbows against the rough stone.
“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.”
“The earrings. Sapphire and diamond. I saw them. I overheard you and Balin discussing them earlier and I saw them on his worktable just this morning.”
A slight chill ran along his spine, but it wasn't exactly apprehension or shame, but almost a feeling of relief. “You did?”
“I was coming to see if you wished to join me for breakfast and Dís said you were down with Balin and I came in search of you. I thought they might be for me, but then I saw Balin wrapping the box to be put in the post.”
“Miss Whitbow, if I—”
“They were for her, weren’t they?” she went on as if he’d said nothing. “The healer in Dale. Miss Stoneham, I mean.”
He drew in a deep breath. “They were, yes. I was but upholding a bargain I’d struck with her when I was her patient.”
“Thorin,” she managed a sad smile as she looked up at him and shook her head, “please don’t try to spare my feelings. Be honest with me.” Her hand came to rest on his arm. “As you’ve always been honest with me.”
She should only know just how dishonest he’d been with her. With himself. With Jasna. “Shael, I… I’m not entirely certain how to explain it, since I don’t understand it myself.”
“She means something to you, doesn’t she?”
He glanced back at Dale, where lights were flickering to life in the shops, in the square, along the streets, in the residences. Did Jasna like the earrings? Did she even accept them or did she ignore them, possibly give them to her mother or a friend? He had no way of knowing.
“Thorin?”
“She does, Shael. I’m sorry,” he turned back to her, “it wasn't something I’d planned on happening, and it was nothing I thought would ever happen, but, yes.”
“I see.” Her cheeks went pink and her eyes grew shiny. She closed them for a moment, then drew in a deep breath once more. “Then why are you here with me, while she is there?”
“Because I hurt her. And I hurt her terribly.”
“Do you love her, Thorin?”
He didn’t answer at first, but stared out at Dale. His heart hammered his ribs, left him a bit lightheaded and out of breath as he closed his eyes and whispered, “I do, Shael. And I’m so sorry because I know you and I—”
“Don’t apologize to me, Thorin. You’ve not hurt me.” Her hand tightened on his forearm. “You and I have both changed a lot since you left Ered Luin. We wouldn’t suit and I think we both know that.”
“We could learn—”
“No,” she shook her head, “we can’t. And we shouldn’t. You love her. You should make things right with her. You might not get another chance to do so.”
“She won’t have me, Shael. I told you, I hurt her.”
“So, make it up to her. We both know you can be very charming when you wish to be.” She smiled, the shimmering in her eyes dissipating. “But, go and find her because you will hate yourself otherwise.”
“Shael, I—”
“If you tell me you hurt her one more time, I will brain you with something. Don’t be a fool. You’re miserable with me.”
“I am not miserable.”
“Of course you are. You don’t belong with me.” She slipped her hand into his and gave it a squeeze. “Walk me down and then go.”
“It’s getting late.”
“Don’t be a baby, Thorin Durin. Don’t be a coward. And don’t be a fool.” She tugged on his arm. “Do I have to take you there myself?”
“All right, all right.” He smiled, his heart lighter than it had been in weeks. “Did Dís send you up here?”
“No. I know you better than you think, Thorin. I knew you were elsewhere all the time, and you weren’t happy. And while I have to admit to being a bit jealous of your Miss Stoneham, I am not so much a shrew that I would want you to be miserable. I know you tried and it was sweet of you to do so, but now you need to do what’s best for you.”
They made their way down inside, and as they reached the main floor, he turned to her. “I am sorry, Shael.”
“I am, too, Thorin. But, it wasn’t meant to be.” She pushed up onto her tiptoes and brushed his cheek with a kiss. “Now go, before I change my mind and decide to be a shrew.”
With that, she let go of his arm and stepped back, a sad smile on her lips. “Go.”
“I am.”
He drew in a deep breath, then turned and walked on toward the Great Hall and was almost there when he heard the breathless, “Thorin!”
He turned at the sound of Bilbo’s voice and saw the hobbit hurrying toward him. “What is it, Master Baggins? I’m just on my way out.”
“I know,” Bilbo drew to a halt before him, breathless as if he’d run all the way from the Shire in his haste to catch up with him, and bent at the waist, “but there is something I needed to speak with you about.”
“What might that be?” Thorin glanced over his shoulder into the Great Hall, where he could see Dís and Kíli in their usual chairs. “I’m in a bit of a hurry.”
“I’ve been trying to catch you alone, but it seems you are always with someone, so, I apologize for keeping you from going… wherever it is you were going.”
“I’m going into Dale.”
“Dale?” The hobbit’s forehead furrowed. “At this hour? Whatever for?”
“I need to go and clear the air with someone.” Thorin tried to tamp down his rising impatience. “Miss Stoneham. I’ve made a mess of things with her and I need to fix them.”
“The healer?”
“Aye, Master Baggins, the healer. Now, if you will excuse me, I—”
“Wait,” Bilbo interrupted softly, “by made a mess of things, you mean that you and she… that there was something between you? Aside from you being her patient?”
“That is exactly what I mean. And I put my foot in it and now I have to hope she will listen to me and forgive me when all is said and done.” He folded his arms over his chest and peered down at the halfling. “So, what was it you wished to say to me?”
“I—er—that is…” Bilbo’s cheeks grew ruddy and his gaze dropped. “It can wait, I suppose.”
“Or you might just tell me now and save us both the trouble.”
“It’s silly now. It’s just… I thought that you… well… I hadn’t realized the healer had won your affections.”
Thorin almost smiled as the image of Jasna under him in his bed flashed through his mind. “Well, she has. And if Mahal is on my side, I will win her back again.”
“Win her back.” Bilbo’s expression grew far more somber than it had been only moments ago, but then he offered up a smile that looked a bit too cheerful to be genuine. “Well, good luck, then.”
Thorin had the distinct feeling Bilbo was going to tell him something completely different. More than once, he’d had the feeling the hobbit looked at him as more than a friend or a leader, and Thorin wasn’t entirely certain what to make of it or what to do about it. He was fond of Bilbo, of course, but that was it as far as he was concerned.
“Master Baggins,” he began slowly. The last thing he wanted to do was wound Bilbo more than he’d already done over the course of their friendship. By all rights, he should have washed his hands of Thorin when Thorin ordered him thrown from Erebor’s ramparts.
And yet, he was the one to appear up at Ravenhill to warn Thorin of Azog’s trap. Bilbo was the one who stayed at his side after Thorin had been run through by the orc, even as Tauriel fussed over his wounds to stabilize him to be brought back to Erebor. He’d been a true friend through all of it and it wasn't until now that Thorin realized Bilbo’s feelings might run a bit deeper.
“Yes?”
“I… I’m sorry if I’ve given you a wrong impression in any way. I treasure your friendship, your loyalty, and I always will. But, I’m afraid friendship is all it will ever be for me.” He glanced toward Dís, then looked back at Bilbo. “I do hope you understand.”
“Oh, of course I do, Thorin, yes. I just—” He smiled and shrugged. “Good luck with Miss Stoneham. I hope the two of you are very happy.”
“Thank you, Master Baggins. That truly means so much to me.”
For a moment, Bilbo looked as if he was going to say something else, but then he shuffled his bare feet and bobbed his head. “You’d best be off then, before the hour grows too late.”
“You’re right. I should.” Thorin hesitated, then moved up to embrace the hobbit warmly. “You’ve been a true friend to me, Master Baggins. And I hope that will not change.”
“It won’t. Not ever. Now, go.”
Thorin smiled, then turned to head through the Great Hall, to where Dís and Kíli sat. “Dís, may I have a word with you?”
“Absolutely.” She rose and turned to him. “What is it?”
“I have to go into Dale, walk with me and I’ll tell you why.”
A hint of a smile played at her lips as she said, “Very well. Go on.”
“How upset would you be, how upset do you think everyone would be, if I were to ask another to be my wife instead of Shael? If I were to change that law, if need be, to make it possible?”
“Thorin?”
“I’ve already spoken to Shael and she understands and this was actually her idea. It seems she sees we’ve grown apart as well.”
“Grown apart? You were never a true couple, Thorin. She thought you were handsome and you thought she was a pest.”
“Well, you and she used to follow me all around Ered Luin, so yes, she was a pest.” A hint of impatience swirled through him. “And that does not answer my question.”
“I assume the woman in question is a certain redhead with a gift for healing?”
A knowing look accompanied those words and the impatience swirled even harder through him. “It might.”
“I think everyone will be happy for you, Thorin. And relieved. You’ve been a bit of a bear these last few weeks, you know.”
“I know. And as soon as I straighten things out with Jasna, hopefully those days will be but a terrible memory.”
“Then you should probably go.”
He paused as they reached the front gates. “What if she won’t have me?”
“There is only one way to find out.”
He looked over at her. “I don’t deserve her, Dís. Especially after what I did.”
“None of you deserve us and yet, somehow, we all end up forgiving you. Now, stop stalling and go.”
He nodded, then bent and brushed Dís’ cheek with a kiss. “Thank you.”
“Go.”
#Richard Armitage#The Hobbit#Thorin Oakenshield#Hobbit Fic#Hobbit Fanfic#Fan fiction#The Hobbit fan fiction#Thorin x OC#AU#Thorin Fic#Is it hot in here?#Romance#Everybody Lives AU#The Hobbit BOTFA
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Nucifera - ch. 3
Billy Hargrove x reader series
Peeps tags: @strawhatgamergirl @puppybittingotherpuppy
Author’s note: sorry for the long wait but wooo, also I made Jordan Mix, he still looks white but ya know a little slight tan, because he’s white and black, but also I usually have burn out because I have adhd, but here we are, but I hope everyone likes it, oh also I put emoji’s, even though it’s the 80’s.
Chapters: ch.1, ch.2, ch.4
Warnings: blood, a gun :D, cursing, slurs, anxiety and gore
Word count: 6251
Billy’s POV
2 weeks has passed, hospital appointments by hospital appointments, some physical therapy appointments to some police reports from the mall incident, it was roughly disappointing because his doctor told him he has to be in protective custody, which his first internal thought was ‘what a load of fucking bullshit’; feeling internally trap in one setting, feels isolating and rubbish. (Y/n) tried to help by talking to his doctor that it was her fault, it was her idea. But Billy cut it off by saying it’s ok, it’s no biggie, even though his brain was running on screws and wiring that is just going to all fall apart; at the beginning his doctor advised him to exercise, which hurts like he was being stabbed repeatedly, not until (Y/n) gave him some lessons for some easier solutions, a month later got half his weight back, it made him kinda more comfortable to look at himself in the mirror, except that massive hellish scar brings shivers down his spine; doing regular exercises was much easier to operate, even got (Y/n) to sit on his back for when he’s doing push ups; brought some of his confidence back up, but that fucking mind flayer keeps crawling back up in his mind…
Thoughts- no scratch that; nightmares through nightmares sworm through his skull, death; friends dying, you… Billy clenched his eyes shut, frustrated, he’s frustrated that he has these stupid thoughts, ‘stupid nightmares… stupid fuckin thoughts…’
He sighed and looked back at his notebook, it was pages and pages of stupid updates and shity doodles of frustration from past appointments for his physical therapy or just daily check ups, lot of it was lazy scribbles of updates but at least they were readable… just makes it more depressing that he has to write a reminder that he went through so much shit in little time, ‘fuckin doctors…’, he slowly breathed out and layed down on (Y/n)’s soft bed, felt quiet when no one was around, it makes his head hurt thinking about everyone, how Steve fuckin Harrington actually saved his sorry ass, why… why though; I bullied him, mock him till he felt threatened; heh- to rightfully feel like a king on top of his thorn; what did It got me, you lying to me, telling me that my sister wasn’t there, got a decent set of punches at me, and not even giving a hell to check I was ‘really’ ok… heh- I was just following a cuck of a father’s rules and I was a bit worried where she was at, but I know she can handle herself. Billy growled in frustration and threw the notebook across the room. And put his hands on his closed eyes and breathed out…
(Y/n) and Max… (Y/n) and Max… (Y/n) and Maxine…
I don’t even know why you both don’t hate me, everyone just left me in the dark, even my own mother… but nope, (Y/n) was worried sick of me and still cares about me, well I never heard you doubt me before… always there for me when I had my bruises from my father, always…
Always… so perfect…
I hate you- well not hate hate you; but I envy how nice you can be to people and especially me, the only “care” I got in high school was bruises and cigarettes… no one wanted to help my pain. My step sister was afraid to help me and her own mother didn’t even bother, I had no one, absolutely no one…
Until you show up again… more beautiful than before… and have that worried look like you used to have. You got Max to actually talk to me, which— fuck— Darn you for being a god damn angel. Maxine actually vents, talks, and jokes around me because of you; but you also just helped me get my confidence up to talk to my little sister…
He slowly put his hands on his chest and opened his eyes. His thoughts cooled down and he slowly got up and saw where the notebook was at. It was close to the bathroom door. Billy sighed and walked up to it and picked it up. As ragged as it is, he still has to deal with it.
Door creaked
“Hey whatcha doing staring daggers on that notebook again?”
Billy got a little started but then looked back at you.
“Oh just putting my frustrations on stupid things again.”
“So your notebook.”
“Yuppp… but at least it’s that piece of shit then something important…”
“Uh-huh… welp I got you something…”
She walked in with a huge bag behind her back.
“Nice hiding spot. Prez~”
“Oh shut up~ so your birthday has passed not so long ago and I wanted to give you these…”
She brought the bag up front. And opened it a little so he could see what’s inside. It was the dark red jacket and the two shirts, with some protein bars. Billy was confused at first but then realized those clothes really were his, ‘I mean it was pretty obvious…’
“Happy late birthday!”
Billy looked back up at her with a sad smile.
“No one ever actually celebrated my birthday; that’s why I always skipped it.”
She gave a small punch on his shoulder, “well that’s just shity. I'm just better than them!”
Billy gave a small chuckle.
“What do you want to do for your 19th birthday?”
“Just chill here; or work out today.”
“Well that's fine with me, I need to do some chores anyway. Also I'm glad you like the gifted!”
Before she walked off to her chores, she gave a small smile back and walked out of her room. Billy looked back down at the gifts and looked at a pacific one, the jacket, he liked it a lot, so much he hoped that (Y/n) wont think of him as a weirdo for wearing one jacket the whole day or even longer…
‘She’s just so damn cute…’
——- time skip (another mouth has passed) ——-
It was april and it was slightly warm outside, Billy was back at his original weight, which is quite outstanding; i mean all those bulking and working out was all not for nothing, Billy is proud he got all his weight back: the only thing is that he getting more stares then before, people are familiar with his old self, before Billy would hide away and he felt squeamish, but now he gives the death glares back if they looked, they're the ones that get frighten, which is amazing to have that self control back, the only difference is that he has lollipops instead of cigarettes, some girls think its cute, seeing a tough guy have a small soft side, but to billy he felt irritated, so when he goes alone sometimes, he tries to find other ways to deal with his anxiety, like tapping his fingers or shaking his leg or just tapping his foot, it usually doesn't last long, because his stomach twists and turns, anxiety is a bitch, and stupid thoughts of stupid shit will just pop up which made his anxiety worst…
“Grrrmmmm *sigh*” Billy picks another lollipop from his pocket and spits out the lollipop stick from his mouth and it lands in the trash can, and puts his 2nd one in his mouth, ‘mmm blueberry…’ He brought the hose up to his car again, his car hasn't really gone out as much because before his dumb organs would hurt like a bitch in his camaro, but now his body feels completely normal.
Well…
Billy lowered his head, and looked at his chest of his shirt.
“*sigh*”
SMACK
Billy looked up and saw Max on the other side of the car. “Max! What the hell!”
“Hey! I was just helping.”
“So throwing a soaked sponge was your plan.”
“Hey! Its not my fault that you still have anxiety over your scar.”
Billy just growled and put the hose back on his car, Max looked disappointed but sad in the same time, so she walked and grabbed the sponge off the ground, then looked back at Billy.
“Hmm” Billy looked back at Max.
“You know you can talk about some things that’s bothering you, ya know.”
“…”
“I know your going back to your normal self; but don’t hold it in, it just makes your anxiety worse…”
Billy clenched his lollipop stick again, “then what are your thoughts on this disturbing scar…”
Max just gave the most dumbest ‘are you serious’ face of all time and said “I think it looks cool and it makes you more of a badass because you saved a whole lot of people.”
“How-“
“WHAT YOU MEAN HOW! *sigh* Billy if I found it disturbing I wouldn’t be talking to you right now wouldn’t I.”
Billy unclenched his pop and brought the hose to Max.
“HEY!!!”
She threw the sponge at Billy and it hit his chest; Billy just started laughing but not until Max grabbed the hose and faced it at him.
*cough* “DANG IT MAX!” He coughed a little more and started laughing again. “Ok! OK! YOU-“ he picked up Max and put her by his right shoulder. “LET GO! YOU DORK!”
“OH I’M A DORK, last time I checked I was supposed to be the jock in high school!” “WELL YOUR A ADULT SO YOUR NOT IN HIGH SCHOOL ANYMORE! LET GO!”
“Hmmm, I can do this for hours or even days-“ “NO!” Billy just started to laugh again, “fine fine…” Billy put her down and she gave little punches on Billy’s right arm. “You! You! Idiot! You!” “So that’s a ‘I want to be picked up again’” “no!” And she ran on the other side of the car, Billy started laughing again a little and picked up the hose from the ground to finish up the rest of his car.
—-
After the car finished, they both took a break, they both sat on the end of the car. “You know… you're right.” Max looked back at Billy.
“Well- I’m sorry that I was a huge asshole before, I just thought… if I was like that; someone will bark back, bring hate back. In a fucked up way I thought that was comfort; I thought if I was like that, my mother would come schooling me back to how I used to be; but… she never came back…”
“I’m sorry-“
“No, don’t be, it’s ok really; life is not as shity as I thought it would be, ye there’s these stupid assholes that might come back, but… at least I have two people that are… actually there for me; which I thought I was going to be alone- but you know… I was wrong.”
Max gave a soft smile and gave Billy a soft punch on his left arm. “Well… I’m glad that you're alright… but! Rest time is over. You have work- well your first day!”
“*sigh* thanks max for reminding me…”
“Hey! At least it’s the same job.”
“True but-“
“If you're talking about your scar, then just wear dark colors. Or a really thick cotton white shirt.”
Billy just nods and went to change to a black shirt and the rest of his lifeguard belongings.
—- time skip —-
Tap tap tap
From the tapping from his finger to the shaking of his left leg, the anxiety is already erupting and it’s making his chest tight. His knuckles on the stringing wheel turn white. His muscles were tensing up. Billy clenches his teeth on the lollipop stick. The candy in his mouth was cracking, each time he clenched, it crack, crack, crack, felt like two stones clenching together to try to turn into one, but can’t. Because they’re two separate entities, two separate objects but the same counterpart, that can’t be fused together no matter how hard you try…
Crack
That sweet ball of candy broke; pieces that felt like chunks of unsharp glass were spewing through his mouth. Billy growled in frustration, ‘damn this fucking anxiety, it’s eating me apart…’ he reached his hand out to grab another lollipop from the armrest compartment and found none…
‘Fuck- I thought I brought more.’ His hand was searching more around until he found a box of cigarettes, it had two cigarettes left. Billy brought it up and till he stopped at the next red light, he looked at the ciggs, he was tempting but (Y/n) yelling at him tells him otherwise, so he threw them in the back with no hesitation. And continuing to chew his lollipop stick.
‘Can this day get anymore fucked then it is…’
— time skip (noon) —
Billy closed the car door and made sure his shirt was covering his scar. His shirt was clinging to his body, his muscles we’re tensing up, all that stress is making his body hurt already.
‘Fuck, fuck, fuck everything…’
—- flashback - --
“Are you sure, you’ll be ok going out by yourself?”
Billy look at (Y/n) with a smirk.
“Prez, I got this~”
“Mmmhmmm” she looks unsurprised
—- flashback end —
‘Sometimes I need to be smacked in the head…’
Billy walked over to the building and clocked in. Before he was about to walk out to the locker room.
“Hey! You're the new guy right?”
Billy stiffed up then looked back. The woman gasps, “your that one guy saved all those kids from that mall that catches on fire or one of them!”
“I-“ Billy couldn’t think what to say, “so what…”
“So… nevermine, it’s a tough topic is it…”
Billy just looks at her with a ‘oh really, no shit’ face.
“Hehe, well it’s only me and you today! Everyone else called off because it’s April, and somehow it’s hot for this week… also aren’t you going to be sweating in that black shirt, we have some white ones in the back”
“Tch… I’ll be fine…”, Billy walked out, he can hear the girl in the back, yapping that he’s going to have a heatstroke, ‘whatever…’ right when he was at the door for the locker rooms, he felt hesitated, ‘max… and…’ billy sighed and decided to not put his stuff in a locker… and just brought it with him. When he stept out to the pool, not many people were around. Just three chicks in far corner of the pool and a couple kids they were probably watching; wait there old fucking woman looking at her phone; *sigh*.
Billy can feel the stares from the group of women, it made his stomach heaved. He checked his shirt again if any or just smig of his scar was showing, it wasn’t; which brought his mind at ease, he went to the left and walked to the nearest lifeguard and strapped his backpack to the left handle, before he got to the seat side, that other lifeguard from earlier came over.
“You know we have lockers.”
“Oh I know, but did I fucking ask for a reminder.”
“You know, I’m your couch today.”
“And. I’ve worked at a pool before, I don’t need to be told twice. Or as many times, you want, princess.”
The lifeguard looked in rage, but walked off to the other lifeguard station.
Billy couldn’t care less, he just wanted to get paid and leave. Weekly pay is not all bad. Anything that helps you or your family with bills, ‘don’t want to feel like a fucking burden.’ Billy relaxed in his seat but still feel his anxiety in his pores, it’s making his sides hurt, which fuckin sucks not having a lollipop in a while, he tried to message his sides to keep him at bay with his anxiety, but it just made things worse, he squeezed his eyes shut to see if that helped with his stress, but it just made him nauseous. Sweat that was lightly from the sun was getting worse by the second. He tried to focus on anything to make this stupid anxiety cool down, but that just made it worse.
‘Why did I say I was ready…’
—- time skip —-
(Y/n) Pov
‘How the fuck, do you forget your anxiety pops’
(Y/n) just snickers
“Anxiety pops”
She parked her car and checked her phone again to check where to drop these ‘anxiety pops’ at.
Billy’s text message said, “just dropped them off at the office. 🖤”
“Oh, William, you dork using a heart emoji.”
She grabbed the small bag of lollipops, and stepped out of her car, in the little plastic bag, there was only 15 lollipops, while she was walking over, she looked around and saw not much cars today, the pool parking seemed kinda empty, ‘figured it would be a slow day, it is kinda summer break in some schools, so families would go somewhere more entertaining than just some basic bitch pool…’
While she was walking over there, she was checking her phone again just to make sure where to put the bag of lollipops at. When she made it, she saw Billy to her left, she felt bad how stressed he looks, before she could walk in the office, someone firmly grabbed her arm, she looked to her right and saw zacharius, “fuck off dude, don’t you have anything else to do…”
“Ohhhh~, little rabbit wants to go on her merry way~; too bad because I have something to tell ya.”
“So harassing me and being a fucktard is your way of flirting.”
“You're spicy~ for a little rabbit but I need to tell ya something about Billy.”
“Now why would I want to hear that?”
“Well~ I’m not gonna lie to you. But why do a misfit like you want to hangout with an unmanageable asshole like that.” He shook his head up a little, to make it like he’s pointing forward, towards Billy’s direction. This time Billy got down from his lifeguard chair and was talking to the three chicks that were vibing in the pool earlier.
“See… boys never change, they’ll just keep following what there sluggish hearts can take and never look back.”
She looked back, “same goes to you, if you say that.”
“You’re such a biter~, that’s what I like about you~, but princess~, he would only throw you away like the other bitches, he wore out or just couldn’t care less what they think. You're walking on violence. Someone that threatened his sister; had bloody fights for weak individuals that can’t even sock a punch on solid concrete…”
“That’s-“
“That’s what sweetheart~ those chicks will get there brains fucked out; putting all that worked up anxiety to use… with those pretty little fuck toys in use and come home all relaxed so he can go on his next victim…”
(Y/n) looked troubled, which amused him even more.
“Sorry for telling the truth baby girl… but I’m only protecting you in my only fucked up way~”
“So that time at the mall…”
“Oh princess I wasn’t going to hurt you~ I was just faking a threat to keep you as far away from a monster like him…”
She looked back at Billy; he was still flirting and talking to the girls.
She turned back and snatched her hand back; she walked in the office and dropped the bag on the counter and stepped out.
Looked back one last time…
Then left…
——
Billy’s POV
Billy saw a glimpse of (Y/n), but she already got in her car and left…
“Heyyy… hot shot~”
Billy looked back, and gave the three girls a glare, “you know, it shows me how dumb, all of you are, to get easily flirted… you chicks vaginas must be warned out, just how many times u spat.”
One of the girls had a drink of water in a red plastic cup, she swung her hand out in a fast motion and the water hit Billy’s face. Billy was unfazed and had a smug look on his face. The girls looked disappointed and annoyed, so they walked off. Billy couldn’t care less. He looked at miss lifeguard. “Ima take a break!” While he was walking over he got his phone out and texted (Y/n) back.
“Thanks for the pops Prez~ maybe we can watch a movie 🍿 after I clocked out from work. Maybe horror. 🧡🔪🖤”
A couple seconds passed and he saw no ‘seen’ on the bottom. ‘Maybe she’s still driving or doing errands, she usually answers instantly…’ he closed his flip phone; put his phone in his pocket and walked in the office, and grabbed his pops.
—- time skip (night) —
After he got the pops hours ago, he felt much calmer than before, it even made him throw his stuff in his locker and took a quick shower. ‘Who would knew…’, his shift was almost done with just 2 hours left, it was quiet at the pool, the pool closed at 6:30pm, and the other lifeguard lefted at 5:00pm because she told him, at unexpected family problems happened, Billy understood and apologized about before because he was stressed out from not having his “anxiety pills”, she also apologized if she caused anymore stress then he was already feeling before, he told her she was fine, so she rushed to clocked out and ran out. The pool was easy to clean because it was a slow day. So he’ll do the pool last.
Now back to the present; 10:00 pm, Billy was just at the just of it with cleaning the pool. So he sat the end of the pool and got his flip phone out to check his messages again, he checked if he had any new ones from people he knew, some were appointments and some were max texting him little muscle emojis and telling him you got this, then he checked if you seen his message yet, and you haven’t… which got Billy’s heart clenched, ‘is she’s alright…’, he wanted to text you to see if your alright, but he felt nervous, ‘she’s probably been busy all day…’
So he texted Max and asked if they were both alright, Max responded fast and said, “we’re alright, we’re chilling, Hru.”
He texted back; “I’m doing alright, just chilling at the pool waiting to clock out.”
She text back with a little happy face :D, and ended the conversation.
Billy closed his flip phone and put it in his pocket, he lowered his head towards the pool a little and saw his legs in the pool, the pool had a soft light blue glow, it made the large pool water looked like melted crystals, shiny calming glow, it made him wonder if he should go on vacation too. Feeling tired all the time, from so much stress in one setting, makes you want to scream all the stress out. He moved his legs slowly in the water, making him dazed out from the movement of the water…
“I wonder if (Y/n) and Max would want to go on vacation…” he said silently, a meer whisper.
“Sounds fun… Bill…”
Before Billy could turn around, he got shoved in the water.
The water felt cold and refreshing, but his veins felt burning and boiling from someone above, who pushed him in the pool, the silhouette looked familiar, didn’t had the same clothes from last time, but the face was all to familiar, black roughed up hair, tired eyes, that had no rest for weeks, always had that look where he can get any girl with just a smile, but in reality he would just get his dick sniped and bruises like scarlet and violet roses… the devil himself, zacharius.
‘Nope that’s it ima kill him, I swear.’
Billy swimmed to the top and saw zacharius stupid smug face…
“You're a real bitch, ya know that.”
Zacharius stupid smug turned to frustration.
“Shut up, faggot.”
“Would a faggot, fuck you’re ex’s tight pussy, making her pant and moan; her yelling my name instead of yours.”
“SHUT YOUR MOUTH!” Zacharius pick a 9mm out of his pocket, Billy gave him a straight face, he was unfazed, which made Zacharius felt uneasy, but he continued, “I always hated you, when I was with my group of friends, we were having the time of are lives, going on pool parties, getting drunk on late nights, breaking rules so are parents would get pissed off, but most of all my. Girl. You. Took. From. Me…”
Billy kept being silent and listened…
“A blonde cali boy came to school one day, looking like he own the whole damn school, he walked over and started talking to Carol Perkins, Tommy, and the rest of my group of friends, but-“
“But he took your girl…”
“You… she… just stopped, she hugged me less, stopped looking at me, she told me that we weren't a thing anymore. Days passed and each following day, I saw her looking at the same blonde…”
“I fucking hated you from that day, she stopped being around me, she wouldn’t even give me eye contact, it looked like she forgot about me…”
“Well… you know what she told me that day, she told me that you treated her like shit, she said you slammed her tight clit like a pussy, she… *sarcastic snicker* she told me that you fuck like a girl losing her virginity for the first time.”
Zacharius right hand started to cliver, the 9mm slightly shaking left to right in his hand. You can see the anger in his veins, Billy noticed his finger shaking on the trigger. So he moved underwater in seconds-.
Shot
Billy got hit close to his left side of his intestines, it made a hole through his skin, but it still hurts like a bitch, crimson blood slowly spewing in the water, with Billy’s right hand, he put pressure on it. “Mmmmhhggg”, from above he can hear Zach yell “get the fuck up and face me.” Or just plain cursing, Billy just did the opposite and swimmed further in the deep end, so it make his figure hard to shoot.
Shoot
Shoot
Shoot
The bullets were close to Billy, but they all missed, suddenly the bullets stopped coming and another figure came, yelling “what the fuck your doing!” It was mumbled but what came from Zach was “Jordan get the fuck out of here!” It was like hearing two kids yelling who gets to be first in the front car seat.
Billy’s right lung was starting to burn, so he swam up, when he got up the service, he pant quietly because Jordan was distracting zacharius, so Billy swimmed slowly to the edge and put his hands on it, he slowly pushed himself up, even though it was a slightly a struggle to get up, his side making him nauseous, his black shirt getting soaked even more from his blood, when Billy got out, his panting was getting heavier, which made zacharius heard him, right before zacharius turned around Jordan grab his hand with his both hands and brought the gun up. “Jordan fuck off!” Even though Jordan was slightly shorter, he still put up a fight, “Zach! You're insane! It’s old fucking news dude just fuckin move on!”
When Billy got the hang of his breathing again, he pushed himself up, rushed up Zach to put a stop to this stupidity, but Jordan couldn’t hold on for long, and Zacharius pushed Jordan back, then pointed the gun back at Billy, Billy stepped back a little.
Jordan spoke up, “Zach come on man, there’s no point in doing this shit anyway.”
“Shut up!”
Billy spoke up, “Zach if it makes you feel any better, that bitch of girlfriend, you had was a stank; we only had a one time stand, and then she looked for some other dude to fuck…”
“That’s not-“
Jordan spoke, “Zach! Its fuckin true and you know it. The whole school knew, come on dude-“
Zacharius looked back at Jordan, in a fast movement, zacharius faced his gun at Jordan, Billy tried to move-
Shot
“AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!”
The bullet went through his left leg, it pierced through the thin skin, through the cartilage, smoothly going through the bone and out from the other side, hitting the concrete with a metallic sharp thud.
Zacharius stopped; froze up and looked at his friend, his body started to quiver, “Jordan- I- I—“
“WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU!”
Billy just stood in silence, clenching his side, with his right hand, while his left hand clenched in a fist, Billy didn’t know Jordan that long, but seeing someone that you knew from school, just walking just fine moments ago, now on the floor clenching his lower part of your left leg blood on his hands, crimson liquid stained his black jeans making it darker then it already was. Zach dropped his gun and kept stuttering, but Jordan kept screaming and yelling that he bloody attacked him.
Yelling to screaming.
Yelling t screaming
Ye l in to scre m in
Yell scre-
Billy's brain felt like it was about to burst, from just hearing two men screaming, crying, and apologizing. It was becoming more moshed than normal speech…
“Zacharius get the fuck out of here…”
Zach looked back at Billy.
“But-“
“FUCK OFF WILL YOU, YOU TRIED TO KILL ME BECAUSE SOME WHORE THAT DIDNT WANT YOU.” Billy slowly walked up to Zach, he grabbed his collar with his free hand, and spoke “YOU TAKE YOUR GROUP OF FRIENDS IN STUPID AND DANGEROUS SITUATIONS; YOU TRIED TO HURT AND THREATED MY GIRL AND NOW- NOW YOU SHOT YOUR FUCKING FRIEND!!!”
“I—“
“FUCK OFF! WILL YOU!”
Billy shoved him away.
“FUCK OFF AND NEVER COME NEAR HERE EVER AGAIN, DONT COME NEAR ME OR ANY OF YOUR FRIENDS, AND IF I SEE YOU EVEN CLOSE TO MY SISTER AND MY GIRL ILL FUCKING MURK YOU! YOU HEAR ME!”
Zacharius nods and runs off, leaving the gun, leaving his friend, leaving without even looking back…
Billy ran up to Jordan and aided him in the office and patch up his wounds and Jordan’s wounds.
—- time skip ( 1:34 am ) —-
The stitches hurt like a bitch but at least they’re not bleeding.
“Thanks for helping me out Billy…”
“It’s no Problem… I knew police won’t be here fast enough anyway but they’re coming, do… do you think you can speak up for me… I need to get back home, before (Y/n) goes worried because my phone is broken…”
“No- no… you're fine, no worries I can understand how my sister can be when I’m not home at a certain time, well it passed that time.” He chuckled, “my sis, won’t be worried because she’ll know that I’m with the police anyway so…”
Billy chuckled back and stopped leaning on the office counter, “oh I understand, is your sister a cop?”
“She is actually!”
They both cracked up and Billy said his goodbyes and left…
When he got in his car he felt drained again, he felt like another disaster just flew by, like he got struck by bullet through the heart…
‘Ok… let’s get the fuck home…’
—-
While he was speeding down the road he felt like he really fucked up for some reason…
You are not answering his text…
When you dropped his pops in the office, you didn’t even check on him, or at least waved…
You didn’t even reply back or seen- welp can’t know that now because his flip phone is drenched…
“Why choose me…”
“Wait what am I saying…”
He slammed his right hand on the steering wheel, ‘when you walked out, you… looked frustrated…’
“Fuck…”
He boost up his speed to 110 horsepower, but then he slowed his speed, and slowed his fucked up breathing, no one wants to hear a quivering fool…
He popped a red cherry pop in his mouth and continued to drive home…
Your home…
—- time skip —-
When he came home, he felt like he was about to pass out, his stomach was curling, it felt like a demogorgon was eating his insides out, he felt every inch of his hair spiking out, he felt…
Pinned and trapped…
If he stepped in, it’s over, it’s all over…
He held his breath and tried to calm down…
Everything felt like it was about to shatter…
Until…
He heard your voice in his head.
“Well you're wrong in so many ways, that I would call you. Fuckin idiot, if you think I wouldn’t be there for you.”
Billy felt his breathing coming back and felt his muscles stopped tensing up…
Billy just chuckled while shaking his head in a downward ‘no’ motion. And stepped out of the car. While he walked, he was fiddling with his key again, when he got there, he found the correct key and put his key in the key slot and opened the door.
When he stepped inside, he slowly closed the door behind him. The house was dead silent, ‘everyone probably asleep’, so Billy slowly walked inside to not make any noise until he heard (Y/n)’s door opened, his quiet footsteps turn into a little faster swivels to her door, right before he was going to the hallway, she stepped out from the corner of the hallway.
She had tired eyes but she looked unpleased, her arms were crossed, “where have you been?” She had a soft anger in her voice, she couldn’t see the blood stain shirt, because from his side it’s dark, dim, and hard to see his body, his face was slightly dimmed, “I’ve been at work.”
“It's 2:45 am, Billy.”
“Zach-“
“Don’t give me a excuse about zacharius.”
‘What’
“Sweetheart-“
“Don’t call me that” she had venom in her veins. Billy’s muscles was tensing up, “hey… let me-“
“You let me what B, you clocked out 2 hours ago and now your here like nothing happened, not even at least giving me a call!”
“My phone’s dead”
“That’s an excuse…”
Billy clenched his hands, “what’s an excuse! Look!”
He put his right hand in his pocket, and brought it out, it was slightly drenched and won’t turn on.
“You could’ve called me on the office phone or used your coworker’s phone.”
“My coworker left early and also I didn’t want to fuckin call you because you didn’t answer my text or you haven’t seen my text before 10:25 PM-ish after around 10:30 Pm, my phone broke…”
(Y/n) looked at his phone and smacked it off his hand, Billy looked at his hand and back at you confused, “that’s bullshit.”
“And how is it not (Y/n)” his confusion turned into a low growl of frustration.
“You are just the same player that those three girls were looking for…”
Billy felt hurt, “you're thinking I’m going back to my old ways… you-“
“Me what William, You lied to me that you weren’t going back, you lied to me for making a whore out of yourself for flirting over those sluts. you LIED-“
“LIED!” He *chuckled*, “LIED to you about what! Is it a lie that I saved you and Max from my father, IS IT A LIE, that I was there for you at the mall protecting you from that wuss name Zach! HUH, AM I SO MUCH OF A FUCKIN LAIR! THAT I FUCKIN LOVE YOU (Y/N)!”
Her anger just vanished, “shut up-“
“NO, I was at my fucking job, then Zacharius pushed me in the fuckin pool, so my phone got damaged; to make it like I was fuckin ignoring everybody, he tried to kill me, but his bud jordan came along and saved my sorry ass, I got out of the pool. he got shot my Zacharius and i threatened Zach to never come NEAR ME OR HIS FRIENDS, OR MY GIRL AND MY SISTER AGAIN!”
“…”
“Oh and just in case I’m not LYING to you.” Billy pulled his shirt up and showed his stitched up bullet wound and he move to the side to show her it went right through him, he put his shirt back down and looked back at (Y/n), “but I guess if I’m so much of a Manwhore; as you so called i am… I’ll fuckin leave.”
“No— B im-“
“Stop.”
Billy walked passed her, and walked in her room and grabbed his duffle bag and started filling stuff he needs to get the fuck out of there.
“Billy— just wait, I was-“
“STOP.”
“But-“
“STOP WILL YOU. Just stop—“
He got his stuff and walk out of her room, she ran in front of him and tried to stop him.
“Move—“
“No- just listen to me, it’s a misunderstanding— let me-“
“You already explained already, you told me who I am— so fucking move…”
Max stepped out of her room and saw her brother’s distressed face, she couldn’t see (Y/n), but she saw how her body quivers…
“No-“
“Fine I’ll just make myself leave…”
He grabbed her arm, and pulled her out of the way, it wasn't that forceful, but it made her gave up… so for the most part, she moved…
Billy walked up to the door and heard (Y/n)‘a soft sobbing in the background, while max was calling out for Billy.
But he never looked back.
And…
Simply said “I’ll pick you up tomorrow Max…”
And quietly opened the door and closed the door behind him, while never looking back…
#stranger things#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things billy#stranger things max#stranger things billy fanfiction#stranger things billy angst#stranger things billy hargrove#stranger things billy x reader#stranger things angst fanfiction#stranger things William hargrove#billy hargrove x reader angst#reader fanfiction#billy hargrove angst#billy hargrove#max mayfield#maxine mayfield#stranger things au
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Okay so. I do have thoughts on the TriMax ending, actually. Keep in mind I'm very tired rn and might have a head cold and I only read the ending once at like 3 a.m. on a work night BUT hear me out.
I think the ending works fine conceptually. I don't mind the fact that Vash is kinda sorta back in the same position that he once was--big bounty, on the run from people who want to capture him for it, Meryl and Milly on his tail--because while the broad strokes are the same, a lot of specific details aren't, and I think that's where it works for me.
Yes, Vash is back to being an outlaw, but if you think about it, he's also a lot freer than he was back at the start of Trigun? He can't use his powers anymore, which is really kind of a big load off his back when you think about how much trouble they caused him. He has his girls back, which is a big plus. Knives is gone which is...more of a mixed bag, so put a pin in that, but seeing how Knives was the root of a lot of Vash's problems, there's some benefit there.
But I think for me the biggest change comes when his interview (if you want to call it that lmao) gets broadcast and you see how many people are happy he's okay. All the people he saved along the way. All the friends he made. Vash has always had people willing to stick up to him, but I think in a post TriMax world, where he's not only been able to show those people his true face but his presence was instrumental to saving lives (and people know it!! He was the connection between humanity and plants and people saw that), he's going to have a much easier time navigating the world. Like, yeah, there will always be people who don't give a shit about that and just want the money, the Earth Federation is still pissed at him, but there's still improvement there. Not to mention the Earth Federation being there is going to (hopefully!) ease a lot of weight off the backs of everyday people, which will in turn mean things like "less crime" and "less financial incentive for regular people to turn Vash in" (see: the town from the first few chapters of Trigun Classic).
So on the whole, while the tone shift back to lighthearted is a bit jarring, I actually like the ending.......except for the fact that I feel like there's an arc missing between the end of the main plot and the actual ending. This is why I said to put a pin in Knives, for the record.
There's a big chunk of Vash's potential emotional development from those six months that we just don't get to see, and I feel like that's the biggest part of the reason why the ending is so jarring. We don't get to see him process the fact that he's still alive despite his losses, we don't get to see him truly process those losses, he's just kind of...back at it? Which, to be fair, he does compartmentalize way too much in the Actual Canon, so that kind of makes sense? But it is odd to not see that process, even if only in one chapter, to wrap things up. Like obviously I have no idea what happened behind the scenes, but it almost feels like this was all the story Nightow was allowed to write so he had to just wrap everything up in one go and move on.
So, yeah, basically this would've been a perfectly good, even great ending had we gotten like two more chapters to see what went down with Vash mentally during those six months. But that'd also be a tough sell, so I can see why we didn't. But I like the ending. If nothing else it affirmed to me that "March to the Sea" by twenty one pilots was the correct choice for my Vash playlist.
#screech reads trimax#incoherent trigun screaming#keep in mind I'm a bitch who doesn't like character death#and will always take an ending where the character lives and even implicitly gets the chance to heal and find peace#even if they don't explicitly find it at that moment in the ending#over one where they ''find peace'' in death which I have. Thoughts about but those might be controversial so#we'll just leave it at that#anyways this is why God of War: Ragnarok's ending was absolutely GOATed -
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