#and could probably use the help to keep himself out of prison

[lemon-slushie]

YAYY REDESIGNS idk what happened to gingerbrave on the bottom lol

But yay new age ancient redesigns

Rough draft story undercut

Warning it is not great!! 😭 I’m not a writer and it probably has crazy plot holes and is lacking in places but I just wanted to get the idea down

The ancients have temporarily beat the beasts and sealed them away but they all know that they are still extremely powerful and won’t stay gone long, especially with the help of dark enchantress. Though the beasts are sealed away they are now awake and still have their powers, which is seeping from their prisons and attempting to effect the soul jams from the inside, which could cause the ancients decent into insanity like the beasts. All of the ancients know this is an extremely dire issue and can only ward off the beasts for so long.

After a lot of contemplation Pure vanilla figures there is only one option. They must remove the soul jams, giving them to someone else, and hiding them away in an old secluded area while they devise a plan. The ancients are some of the only people who can find a way to beat the beasts but if they are plagued by infected soul jams it could cause the beasts to take over and send the world into chaos. Giving the soul jams to another person is inhumane but if they removed them and left them unattended it could be more risky, if the soul jams are attached to another person it could also allow the ancients to see and study the changes of the person if the beasts do manage to start infecting the soul jams. Though if the soul jams do get infected this too could be dangerous. Pure vanilla recognizes this and creates 5 coffins similar to the one white lily was kept in, this would keep the replacements asleep and trapped. This would cause the infection to slow down and prevent the replacements from acting out or doing anything.

Pure vanilla feels guilty for whoever the replacements will be but ultimately decides there is no other way, if him and the other ancients are gone everything would be doomed. After finding a hidden spot far from any kingdoms and leads to where they could be, Pure vanilla needs help to prepare the coffins. He goes to white lily for help and explains the plan, she thinks for a moment but ultimately agrees with pure vanilla and helps him with the preparation. Together they call for a meeting with the other ancients at his castle. He explains the plan to them and hollyberry and dark cacao are the most against it, believing it to be cruel and unfair. Golden Cheese, though a bit hesitant, agree with pure vanilla as she cannot bare the thought of what’s left of her kingdom getting turned to ruins again and helps to persuade a reluctant hollyberry and cacao into agreeing.

They discuss who the soul jams should go to, believing it must go to someone trustworthy and understanding. Pure vanilla chooses clotted cream, as he believes clotted cream proved himself worthy during the odyssey. Dark cacao decides on dark choco, he feels incredibly guilty at the thought of seeking him away but rationalizes it with telling himself that dark choco would understand and could use it to prove himself as a true hero for helping against a great evil. Hollyberry considered pitaya but consider them to be too strong of an ally to seel away. Eventually she decides on her granddaughter, Princess. Princess is courageous and strong and hollyberry thinks she too would understand the weight of the situation the best. Golden cheese picks black raisin, as she connected with her deeply about loss and pushing foward after they dragged her out of the digital world, Golden believes black raisins selflessness would help her be understanding of why she must risk sacrificing herself. Finally, white lily decides on gingerbrave. All the other ancients are put off on her choosing a young kid but she truly believes that gingerbrave is one of the only people who can truly understand the light of freedom and is willing to do anything for his friends. (Also he’s the main character and always has to be involved)

After deciding on their replacements Pure vanilla calls them all to his castle for various different mundane reason as too not stire anything up and will explain to them why they are there after they have arrived. Once there pure vanilla will give them the “true” reason they were called there. (Dark choco has to be found and personal brought in by dark cacao cuz he’s currently living off the grid in the dark cacao forest, this will lead to developments in their relationship as their first encounter is awkward but heartfelt). He will explain that they were called to become the new ancients, as they have all long outgrown their positions and it is time for someone new to step up. The other ancients deeply disagreed with pure vanilla lying to the others but he stood firm on the decision, he feared if he was truthful they would reject and word would spread and send people into hysteria as the regular people who knew about the beasts are currently under the assumption they have been seeped away for good. After a while of convincing they all agree as they believe there is truly no other way.

The replacements arrive and gladly join Pure vanilla and the others in the meeting room. A few others have also come to the vanilla kingdom this being, financier to guard clotted cream as she always does, madeleine as he saw the two leaving and after questioning them decided to tag along (much to their dismay) to visit espresso, and wildberry to accompany Princess and also check in on Hollyberry as she’s been very hush hush and he feels something is going on behind the scenes. This is a bit inconvenient to the ancients as they can’t have any possible leads to what is happening but they decide they will just have to tag along on the mission as they can’t have them leaving, this also applies to current vanilla kingdom residents (espresso, strawberry crepe, and the raisin villagers). There can be no trace of the ancients or anyone involved, they must stay hidden as much as possible to avoid any attacks.

Pure vanillas gives them the lie and after a bit of shock and questioning they agree as it is a great honor. All except dark choco, he’s extremely hesitant and expresses that he is in no way fit for the soul jam after all that he’s done. Dark cacao disagrees with him after the vision he had with mystic flour and hearing about how he had help the milk village from the flour plague. He assures dark choco that he whole heartedly believes he has finally found himself and is truly ready for the role and will make a great leader. Dark Choco hesitates once more but with the encouragement of his father he agrees. Black raisin feels a bit nervous about the responsibility but completely trusts pure vanilla after all that they’ve been through and thinks it’ll be a great way to give back to him and care for her villagers. Princess is excited and proud to take after hollyberry and go on grand adventures as she did. Gingerbrave too feels nervous but is excited to help and become as great as the other ancients, he also believes this could help defeat dark enchantress, though since he’s a child he doesn’t completely understand the weight and reap of it all so he’s more excited than nervous. They remove the soul jams and hand them over, all of the soul jams connect to the new person except for one, clotted cream. The light of truth refuses to connect with clotted cream, the soul jam speaks to pure vanilla, refusing to go as it believes clotted cream will use the soul jam for personal benefits instead of a greater cause (like he planned to do in the odyssey as he clearly values his own republic more than anything). This does not sit well with the soul jam and it refuses clotted cream. This leads to an awkward stand still as Pure vanilla did not expect this and is unsure what to do. Clotted cream is extremely disappointed and embarrassed but comes up with a solution, offering up madeleine to use. Madeleine is high status in the republic but still under clotted cream and listens to his say, if madeleine wields the soul jam then it still gives clotted cream room to worm his way in and attempt to persuade madeleine in using it for the advancement of the republic. Pure vanilla agrees as he doesn’t have much of an option and madeleine is called in. The situation is explained and madeleine quickly declines, much to the surprise of clotted and financier. Madeleine comes up with a half assed explanation that his family is a generation of knight commanders and he can’t bring himself to break it. Though truthfully he doesn’t believe he could handle a role, he’s very full of himself but this is a front as is seen multiple times he’s very insecure and can be unsure of himself. Pure vanilla, getting a bit frustrated with the sudden change in plans continues to tell Madeleine that this is for the greater good along with clotted cream pressing him about how much this could help the republic to be better. Madeleine gives under the pressure and agrees. The soul jam connects with him (because he has crazy light blessing and doesn’t monopolize off of other people’s works) and they all get super cool transformations to awesome outfits and accessories (like when pure vanilla and hollyberry reconnected with their soul jams in story).

Pure vanilla then explains that they all must leave to “begin training and teaching the replacements how to harness and use the magic of the soul jams” but it’s a ploy to lead them far away from everything where they will be hidden away. He also makes up some excuse as to why even the people without soul jams must attend as the training and powers will also be useful for them to know once they return to their homes so they can help the new ancients if an attack occurs (they will not be returning home)

Once they all arrive to the hidden area (idfk know where it is there’s not really any abandoned places we know about so it’s gotta be unspecified unfortunately) the ancients begin training the replacements as they do not need to be seeker away immediately due to no effects from the beasts yet. Though the training is short and vague as the ancients spend most times trying to figure out how to defeat the beasts. The training though only tends to make the ancients feel worse as they connect with their replacements. This is particularly hard on dark cacao as he finally reconnects with his son and feels as if he’s making up for lost time but he constantly has a lump in his throat as the guilt eats at him for what he’s done and will have to do. This feeling only gets worse for dark cacao as dark choco begins opening up to him more. The replacements seem to be mostly adjusting well with some occasional anxiety of the new responsibility, particularly in madeleine who is struggling most with fear of failure and stains on his image along with clotted constantly in his ear about how important this all is for the republic putting more stress on him. Watching the training and seeing the replacements befriending each-other and trusting the ancients so greatly truly breaks his heart but he stays strong, constantly telling himself they’d understand if they knew. Black raisin is the one who quickly notices the odd shift in the ancients behavior, and while she becomes skeptical she tries to have faith in pure vanilla but she can’t shake a bad feeling. Princess is mostly happy to be spending time with her grandma and hear of all her adventures she had missed. And ginger brave is also there doing the main character stuff he does you know how it is.

Eventually the ancients notice the replacements begin to complain of feeling odd and random changes in behavior which means it’s time for them to go. They bring them to the coffins and it’s a disaster, the replacements are obviously horrified and deeply hurt causing them to act out more and panic which leads to them fighting back against the ancients. Along with family angst and betrayal and what not, but they haven’t fully gotten used to their power and lose to the ancients and are put away to sleep for whoever knows how long.

[carnalcrows]

CAGED DOG

pairing: aguni x bottom male reader

content warnings: 18+, stockholm syndrome, size difference, age gap, mild smut, aguni kills 2 people backstage.

word count: 1.8k

The Beach wasn’t dead—but it was close.

Since Hatter’s death, the poolside mirage of a utopia had collapsed into something leaner, hungrier. Games were harder. People were crueller. The air reeked of chlorine and dried blood, and the sound of laughter had been replaced by silence or screaming. Mostly screaming.

You stayed in the med bay.

Not because you were hurt, though that was often the case. But because it kept you out of sight and was useful. Bandages. Antibiotics. Stitching wounds without flinching. You weren’t the best, but you were gentle. And that made people talk.

Especially him.

Aguni.

The first time you’d really noticed him was after a brutal Hearts game. You’d helped carry a boy back to the Beach, blood soaking through the towel pressed to his gut. Aguni was waiting at the entrance, shirtless, blood spattered, jaw clenched like stone. His eyes had tracked you.

Not the boy.

You.

He’d come into the med bay the next day with a gash on his arm that he probably could’ve handled himself. You patched him up, hands careful, breath held. He didn’t say thank you. Didn’t move. Just watched you the entire time, like he was memorising something.

It started after that.

He came in more often, even when he wasn’t hurt. Sometimes with excuses—bruised knuckles, a scratch that didn’t need disinfectant. Sometimes with nothing at all. He’d lean in the doorway, watching you work on other people. Watching how close they got.

One guy touched your shoulder while laughing.

That guy got reassigned to an outside mission the next day.

He never came back.

“Drink.”

You flinched as a bottle was shoved into your hand. The water sloshed against the rim. You looked up, heart skipping. Aguni towered over you in the hallway, his expression unreadable under the hallway shadows.

“I’m not dehydrated.”

“You were shaking.”

Your throat tightened. He was right. You’d just come back from a Diamonds game—nothing violent, but mentally exhausting. You hadn’t spoken since returning. You hadn’t even realised he’d noticed.

You drank.

His eyes softened just barely.

“Good.”

It wasn’t the first time he’d done something like that. Quiet, simple things. Leaving food where you’d find it. Standing behind you when the groups got rowdy. Making sure your name never showed up on the player rotations for Hearts or Spades games.

It should’ve made you feel safe.

It didn’t.

You tried to leave once.

You’d found an opening—someone had smuggled information about a rumoured safe zone on the other side of the city. You packed light. Kept quiet. Made it as far as the train station.

He was waiting on the platform.

His shirt was soaked through with rain. He looked like something out of a nightmare—quiet, empty-eyed, holding your duffel bag in one hand.

“I took this before you could get too far.”

You swallowed hard. "Aguni—"

“I killed the guy who told you about that safe zone.”

The silence between you crackled with more threat than his words. Your voice broke when you finally spoke.

“You can’t keep me here. I’m not your prisoner.”

He stepped forward.

“You are.”

A beat.

“Because if you’re not, you’ll die.”

You stared at him, trembling.

“And I won’t let that happen.”

Life after that changed. Subtly. Sharply.

You weren’t assigned med duty anymore. He wouldn’t allow it. Too many people touched you. Too many whispered when you passed. Instead, you were relocated to a room two doors down from his. Guarded.

He started bringing you food himself.

“You’re not a prisoner,” he said once, placing a plate down gently. “You’re under protection.”

You didn’t argue. You just watched him as he sat across from you, arms crossed, eyes constantly scanning the hallway outside.

Like he expected a war.

Or wanted one.

The worst part wasn’t the confinement. Or the paranoia.

It was how he looked at you when he thought you weren’t watching.

Like you were the last beautiful thing in this world.

Like you were his.

You woke one night to find him sitting beside your bed, elbows on his knees, hands wringing together like he didn’t know what to do with them. He didn’t speak at first. Just watched you wake up.

“I killed someone again,” he said, voice low. “Tried to offer you a trade. For a game.”

You sat up slowly.

“He was just joking. I think.”

Aguni didn’t blink. “He laughed. I didn’t.”

His voice cracked faintly, a sliver of emotion under iron control.

“I don’t have anything left,” he murmured. “No friends. No plan. Just... you.”

The room felt colder. Smaller. You shifted, pulling the blanket higher, not knowing if it was to protect your body or your heart.

“I never asked for this.”

“I know.”

He stood up, jaw tight. Walked to the door. But before he left, he looked back over his shoulder.

“I don’t know how to be good. But I’ll try.”

You didn’t sleep after that.

The next game was Clubs—a team game. Aguni insisted on going with you. Said it was for balance. You didn’t argue. Not with the way he was clenching his fists like someone might take you again.

It was a simple challenge. Maze-like, psychological. A countdown. Solve together or die.

You made it to the final room with seconds left.

But the door locked behind you.

Just you and him. In the dark.

“Aguni—”

“We have time,” he muttered, pacing the floor. “I know how these end. There’s always a trick.”

You turned toward the corner, trying to stay calm. “We need to think—”

“You think I’m dangerous, don’t you?” he said suddenly.

You froze.

He moved closer. The emergency lights caught his face—blood smeared on his cheek, sweat down his neck. He looked wrecked. Starving.

“You think I’m a monster.”

“No,” you said, too fast.

“Don’t lie.”

A breath.

“I think you’re broken,” you whispered. “But I think you still care.”

That stopped him. His mouth parted like you’d stabbed him in the chest. He reached out, touched your face with his fingers, trembling against your jaw.

“I’d kill for you.”

“I know.”

“I’d die for you.”

You nodded.

His forehead pressed to yours.

“I’m scared,” you whispered.

“So am I.”

The door clicked open behind you.

He didn’t let go.

When you got back to the Beach, the guards were gone.

Your room was left unlocked.

But you still found food left at your door the next morning. Still felt his shadow behind you when someone new got too close. Still saw his eyes across the room, always watching.

Aguni never said what he was to you.

He didn’t have to.

In a world where everything was trying to kill you, he was the only one who wouldn’t let it.

Even if that meant being the most dangerous thing of all.

—

The next night, after the game, he came to your room without knocking.

You were still on edge, nerves thrumming under your skin. You didn’t speak. Neither did he.

He crossed the room like something barely leashed. One look at you—barefoot, shirt rumpled, throat exposed—and his restraint snapped.

He grabbed your face, rough palms cradling your cheeks, and kissed you like a man possessed.

It was desperate. Downright filthy. His mouth crashed into yours, all tongue and heat, like he was trying to drink from you. His beard scraped your skin, making you flinch—he groaned at the sound, deep in his throat, like it did something to him. His body pinned you against the wall before you could breathe, thigh wedging between your legs, pressing up.

You gasped, hands gripping his shoulders. He was solid. Unshakable. His hand slipped under your shirt, calloused fingers dragging over your ribs, slow and claiming. His other hand tangled in your hair, tugging just hard enough to tilt your chin and make you feel it— how much bigger he was. How easily he could keep you still.

You felt your knees tremble. He felt it too.

“Don’t run,” he growled against your mouth, breath hot, voice cracked. “Not now.”

“I’m not,” you breathed. “I’m—” You didn’t finish.

You didn’t have to.

He kissed you again, deeper this time, slower, like he owned your mouth and wanted to prove it. His knee pressed higher. You arched into it, a soft sound escaping your throat before you could swallow it.

He grinned against your lips. Dark. Satisfied.

His fingers slid lower. Teasing. Possessive.

You let him.

His hand slipped past your waistband like it had every right to be there—possessive, claiming, fingertips grazing heat that made your breath catch in your throat. His touch wasn’t shy. It was intentional, like he’d imagined this enough times to know exactly how to pull you apart.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured against your throat, lips dragging over your pulse. “You want it that bad?”

You tried to speak. Failed. Nodded instead.

That was all he needed.

He pushed you back onto the mattress with one hand flat on your chest, pressing you down like you were something feral that needed to be pinned. His weight followed—muscle and sweat and heat, smothering in the best way. You gasped when his hips ground against yours, when the friction made your spine arch and your voice break in the back of your throat.

He grinned—teeth flashing, feral—and shoved your pants down just enough to get what he wanted.

“You don’t even know what you do to me,” he said, his breath hot in your ear. “Every fucking day you walk around like you don’t belong to someone.”

His hand curled around your thigh, yanking it up around his waist.

“You do.”

The grind of his body against yours turned messy, desperate. Each thrust dragged low, hard, thick with the tension of a man starved for touch but bursting with control. You felt him against you—everywhere—bare skin scraping bare skin, his cock rutting into you, with slick running between your thighs, dragging filth and friction right where you needed it most.

It was obscene, the wet slap of it. The heat. The weight. The smell of him and you, tangled together in sweat and something rougher. His mouth was on yours the whole time—sloppy, unrelenting, teeth scraping your bottom lip like he wanted to mark even your kiss.

When your head fell back and your voice cracked into something broken, he swallowed it with a groan. "That's it," he rasped. "Take it. Take me."

You were undone beneath him—breathless, flushed, utterly his.

And he knew it.

He didn’t let you go.

Not that night.

The door stayed shut, the air thick with heat and breathless tension. Clothes shifted. Hands searched. And somewhere between the gasps and the murmured names, you stopped resisting what you’d both known for a long time.

You were his.

And he made sure you felt it—with every mark, every sound, every shuddering second.

By the time dawn painted the windows grey, your voice was hoarse, your body sore, and your soul irrevocably bound.

Aguni lay beside you, arm thrown possessively across your waist, breath warm against your shoulder.

“You’re mine,” he whispered again, quieter this time.

And now, finally, you whispered back.

“I know.”

© carnalcrows on tumblr. Please do not steal my works as I spend time, and I take genuine effort to do them.

[winters-orbit]

Now that we're at the end of mission impossible (until mcq shows cruise another video and he goes, I can do that, let's make another one), it's quite remarkable that they managed to tie together a cohesive theme from 8 movies, 5 directors, and 30 years.

And the fact that the theme is: fierce, unrelenting hope and trust especially in the face of insurmountable odds? I fear I may be thinking about this series for the rest of my life.

The first 3 ish movies are spent slowly beating ethan down. He starts out as this cocksure kid at the beginning of mi1. And then he's betrayed by his team leader who he trusts more than anything and is forced to watch and listen to every single one of them die, including Claire and Jim by the end.

He watches another imf agent go rogue (which absolutely could have been ethan in a different timeline given everything that had just happened to him) resulting in more people around him getting hurt, Nyah the most.

He tries so hard to get out, and gets a brief glimpse at normal happiness only for that to be ripped away from him as he watches his wife get kidnapped and tortured (3 does insane things for his character).

So we meet him at the beginning of ghost protocol in prison having had everything ripped away from him again and again. And now he's in prison. And yeah, we know Julia is alive, but the cruel irony of knowing your wife is alive but you can never be near her again goes crazy hard.

But the beauty of the series is that it's been slowly planting people in Ethan's life over these three movies to trust. And they're not trustworthy because Ethan already knows them. He essentially picks them randomly. Luther, selected off the list of disavowed agents ,ends up becoming his greatest and most reliable friend, his brother. Benji because he's the only one available and willing to help him in an absolutely insane endeavor to save his wife.

And we get to 4 and Ethan is back in the field with the ghost protocol team (whom I love but man are they team cringe fail). A team made up of the man who lives with the guilt of thinking he got Julia killed, a woman who is a walking time bomb due to the grief of losing someone she loved, and a man who is in the field for essentially the first time.

And Ethan takes a look at all of that baggage, including his own and says fuck it, this is my team and they are going to make it through this. And they do; by the skin of their teeth and a second left on the clock they make it. Ethan choses to trust the first full team since the first movie when all of them were ripped away from him.

Rogue nation gives us Ilsa who everyone distrusts immediately, except for Ethan. Ethan is once again betrayed by his government and so is Ilsa. And Ethan knows what that's like and thus Ilsa is part of the team.

Fallout tests that trust as Ilsa is forced to work against Ethan for half of the movie. But fallout is also one of the first times these themes are explicitly stated with "hope is not a a strategy. You must be new".

Ethan has been betrayed countless times, lost so many people close to him, and had the shit kicked out of him so many times he probably has a little brain damage. And yet he keeps getting up, he trusts and he hopes, because that's the only thing standing between them and the end of the world.

We get to dead reckoning and he constantly tries to work with Grace, to protect her, to get her out. Even though she is absolutely working against him at every turn. Anyone else would not work this hard to protect someone who is being this actively antagonist to their goals. But Ethan is not the same man as the kid who lost his team so long ago. Ilsa is ripped away from him. He keeps losing people and just keeps going, because hope and trust is all he has now.

And it's really all hammered home in final reckoning. He just had to walk away as he watched his oldest and closest friend let himself die to save an entire city and he immediately asks Briggs to, please just work with him, while actively crying because of the friend he just lost. (And no Briggs, he's actually never gotten used to losing people, ever. That's what makes Ethan, Ethan. It's BECAUSE he cares so much). He spends most of this movie really just begging people to trust him, to trust each other, to give him a chance to stop the entity despite the odds being insane. Because he's been shown time and time again, that trusting in those around you, however foolish it may seem is what saves the day in the end.

Over the course of 30 years they managed to beat Ethan down and build him back up as this character built on love and hope and care for the people around him. This doesn't even begin to talk about all the small moments of compassion throughout the series (the one in fallout with the French police woman always sticks out in my head).

The initial draw of these movies may be the stunts and seeing how Cruise pulls those off, but the heart of these stories is Ethan. A man who despite everything, all the betrayal, and loss, and suffering, simply choses to be kind. And damn what a powerful message.

[urban-shade]

Here's my headcanon for Sebastian's MR-P living situation! I think I've thought up enough details that it'd make a fun post to read.

Image to tempt you to click that read more 🐠

Prerequisite information from some of the writers strawpage Q&A's: It was confirmed they have specialized showers for large MR-P's (maybe experiments in general?), and that there were others in a similar situation to Sebastian (such that they would also need a big shower like him, nothing else was confirmed)

I forgot where I got this info but the MR-P conditions have been likened to nice european prisons, so I base my headcanons off of looking up stuff about swedish and norwegian prisons

~ ~ ~

SO! We can presume that Urbanshade somewhat makes an effort to accommodate their experiment MR-P's.

With that in mind, Sebastian obviously needs a pool big enough for him to exercise in. He's been said to be very agile in water (and land) and you don't get skilled at swimming unless you've had time to practice.

(Honestly, I think it's probably a little bigger than this, I just didn't want to draw it to super accurate scale)

It'd be financially stupid to make a pool SEBASTIAN-BIG for just one guy though, so I think this is a facility-wide shared pool. At least for MR-P's and lower ranked staff like scientists, not sure if higher-ups / managers /bosses would wanna use it.

They use buoys + a retractable false bottom for the "human" part of the pool so people don't dive too deep or swim out in the middle and be harder to rescue. I don't think they would ever let humans swim in there while large experiments are using it, so experiments would need to rent out pool time, the human barriers are easily removable so they can make use of the whole space.

Since our larger experiments are using the pool, they need to shower off the chlorine/whatever chemical, so the specialized showers are nearby! In order to make sure they have easy access to the pool and showers, their living quarters would also be right outside the pool.

~ ~ ~

Finally, we get to Sebastian's cell!

I heavily based it off of this Swedish prison cell. If I ever model it everything will be true-to scale for Sebastian, but this is just a rough approximate. The doors/openings would be wide enough for his fluke to fit through.

I imagine he has some possessions to his name that he got with vouchers! 12 years is a long time, he's collected stuff. A few different outfits as well as his normal uniform, cigarettes, pens and paper for drawing/designing, sewing kit, etc. I think he likes to think up of engineering stuff and schematics at his desk, he can't really make anything but it helps him keep his mind sharp to plan out hypothetical projects.

I was thinking little origami bunnies on his shelf to remind him of zerum would be cute haha

There's a TV mounted to the wall to ensure MR-P's get announcements of their schedules and such, but in their offtime I think they could pop in VHS's or VD's into a little wall receptacle to watch. I think there's probably a limited library for MR-P's where he can rent out books, maybe films/tv with vouchers? I don't think MR-P's would get internet access at all, so in what free time Sebastian has, his entertainment is limited.

I'm not entirely sure what the selection would be like, Urbanshade wouldn't want to have anything that inspires revolution (like real life prisons.. 😓), which cuts out most fun action movies lol. I was thinking it'd be funny if it was largely movies Mr Shade likes.. like old B&W cowboy and samurai movies.

~ ~ ~

Side tangent about the library and what he gets up to in his free time, I think he's learned a few skills through guide books

Looking at his clothes, I think he is most likely modifying his clothing himself. The stitches are large and uneven, which can be inferred he has to use big leather needles and thick/leather thread since his hands are too big to use normal ones comfortably (yes I think this is just a stylistic choice for the model so it looks nice and so the stitches are visible, but it's fun to read into things way too much)

I might finish this comic later but I think he sewed the opening on his poet shirt more closed because he didn't like that his chest was so exposed haha

~ ~ ~

Back to my final headcanon about his room

For his bed, I think he has a regular decent quality prison bed, but super sized and a bit wider than a human bed. (Reinforced as well since he's heavy)

It's big enough for him to sleep with his tail half folded, or to sleep in a big pile, but not stretched all the way out. (I think sleeping completely straight would feel weird for him.. snake instincts Do Not like it)

He had to make his blanket himself. He's had his standard issue blanket since his LR-P days, and it was "big enough" for his fish self that Urbanshade didn't bother getting him a bigger one. So over time he's added to it with other blankets he's managed to get his hands on.

Anyways hope this was an enjoyable read i think way too much about pressure

[erwinsvow]

being popes wife while he’s in prison means the most world shattering sex when he gets out he is not gonna stop for HOURS you really would just have to let him get it out of his system and fuck you into a coma

this actually made me like almost faint i'm not even kidding. i'm just gonna set aside the internal worry i have that nothing i write for him makes any sense or is out of character and just write about this for a minute thank you -> i wrote this like a week ago and never answered and look how far we've come so i'm gonna post it because this is the anon that started it all!!!! wherever you are thank you!!

in my perfect little world he would go to his old apartment first, before going to the house. you, his perfect little wife, would be the devoted type who came to visit him once a week, once every two weeks if you really had to. it's a really long drive but it was always worth it to you. the type who without fail asks his family if anyone wants to come with you this week. in my little au i would make her a nurse who works three on, four off and she uses those four to go visit pope, sometimes staying overnight in some hotel and then visiting again the next day before she drives home. as much as it means to pope that you would drive so long to see him week after week, i don't think he would like it. he would think it's too dangerous for you to drive eight hours by yourself, that it's dangerous to visit him when there's so many leering, unbelieving eyes that this is the wife that pope's been hiding back at home. and i think he wouldn't want you to see him like this, even though you're just moping at home, that this is the part of each week you look forward to. i don't know, maybe even after a year of marriage before he got arrested and the time you've been going to visit him, pope can't process that there is someone in his life who loves him this much. that he's not a burden, that you're not scared, that you do all of this willingly just to see him and hold his hand for a couple of hours, that you're always in tears when it's time for you to go home, that you answer his calls immediately, even if you're at work.

so you can imagine the kind of loyalty he has to you, since he's seen firsthand the kind of love you have for him. so when he gets parole, he doesn't tell you about it. doesn't want to get your hopes up like he did last time, and then he had to break the news to you over the phone and listen to you cry for the rest of the allotted time, and go back to his cell with the realization that you're still at home crying and there's nothing he can do to help you. so he keeps it quiet, drives himself home with the windows rolled down so he can hear the ocean again, thinking about the face you'll make when he's in front of you again. and fuck if it doesn't live up to every expectation he's had in his head for the last three years. the way you look in the comfort of your shared home, not just dressed up for him inside the barren prison. you're probably doing something that's part of your routine, the one he's had memorized since the two of you got together, cleaning up from breakfast and baking something since it's saturday.

you freeze when you hear the door open. pope's brothers usually tell you if they're swinging by, but they normally never come around unless they need you to stitch one of them up or something. you don't think they had any jobs planned for today, but then again, you could be wrong. but it's not loud enough to be them, you'd hear cursing and shouting and screaming if it was. a little stupidly, you step out of the kitchen towards the front door, without so much as a weapon to defend yourself. but you have this hope, that one day your husband will walk through those doors again like you haven't been living alone for the last three years.

today is the day your wish came true. and he does love your expression, wants to memorize it so it can never truly leave his mind. but what's better is when the two of you get into bed because he has no intentions of getting out of bed, because he has a lot to make up for. three missed birthdays—yours and his, three wedding anniversaries (and three other anniversaries, the first day you two met). all the times he should have been there for you when you had a bad day at work or got anxious around his family or needed him there, like when your car wouldn't start or the breaker short-circuited and the power went out. i've talked enough about pope and wifey's sex life, but same as the show, he goes to smurf's house after. someone asks him where you are. "i'll bring her by tomorrow. she couldn't walk."

EXCUSE-

[knockknockitsnickels]

~✨IMAGINE✨~ You're at a Christmas party. You need to go to the bathroom. You need someone to watch your drink. Whoever could you ask? Observe. Explanations below the cut.

S Tier

Shifty: It's a little beneath her, but sure. She can just get one of her multitudes to watch it until you get back.

Princess and the Dragon: Absolutely. Also could possibly use the weird fusion thing she's got going on to give you live updates on how your drink is doing.

Hunted: Protects your drink with his life. Hisses at anyone who gets too close.

A Tier

Prisoner: Pris is already just sitting blankly in the corner, she doesn't mind doing that and also watching your drink.

Base Princess: She's happy to help, though I could see her getting a bit impatient if you take too long. Still probably one of your best options.

Thorn: Thorn is surprised you trust her and promises to make good on that. If she perceives a threat she swallows your drink whole, glass and all.

Hero: Hero's a nice dude who would probably be happy to watch your drink for you. That said he also strikes me as the kind of guy to forget it's yours and absently take a sip of it.

Spectre: She's happy to watch it for you, but she's also incorporeal, which might hamper her ability to do so. That said, she can probably just de-heart anyone who tries to mess with it.

Adversary : Takes protecting your drink as a challenge and her sacred duty. Beats up anyone who approaches her while she's holding it. Probably spills it everywhere in the process. It's the thought that counts.

B Tier

HEA: She'll probably be happy to watch it for you if you ask but also like. This party is HER moment. She is living her hot girl summer this winter and you should really just leave her to it.

Broken: Likewise with broken, he's not a bad option but you should probably let him have a night off.

Wraith: She's a little annoyed you asked but Wraith strikes me as a girl's girl. She'd probably watch it for you.

Narrator: He's SO mad you asked. "You're not here to have fun, you're here to slay the princess!" (he'll still watch it for you, but he'll complain the entire time).

Fury: Fury gets bored while waiting for you to come back and starts atomizing your drink. She reassembles it before you return but it still tastes a little funny.

C Tier

Stranger: As she exists in her route, probably a bad idea (she's got a lot going on). As the heart princess, however, she's one of your best options (more eyes and hands = extra attention being paid to your drink).

Wounded Wild: She's like SUPER touched you trust her enough to ask but regretfully informs you that she doesn't really have hands to hold it with.

Cage: Cage just leaves her head at a table to watch your drink while the rest of her body does something else. She can't really stop anyone from messing with it but at least she's keeping an eye out for you.

Paranoid: On the one hand he's suspicious of literally everything which might make him a good choice, but on the other hand I feel like he might work himself into a panic attack while you're gone. I'd rather not do that to him.

Damsel: Of course she'll watch your drink for you, if that's what would make you happy! She puts in an honest effort but she's also probably going to forget it on a table somewhere.

The Long Quiet: TLQ is basically just you so idk, what would YOU do? 🤨

D Tier

Cheated: Agrees to watch your drink, then immediately trips and drops it on the floor.

Stubborn: Stubborn's kind of a tossup depending on his mood. If he's already doing something else he's probably not going to help you (additionally, even if you do convince him to help there's a very real chance he'll end up using your glass as a weapon in a bar fight).

Den: Smacks it off a table in typical cat fashion. Seems to feel pretty bad about it after, but doesn't have any money to buy you a new one.

Smitten: Ditches your drink to go flirt with the nearest princess.

Nightmare: It's near impossible to ask, since you can't get close enough to her without your organs shutting down (that said I think she'd probably be cool with it).

Skeptic: I this with love but given Skeptic's track record I think there's a high chance he'll get distracted by some other mystery and forget all about your drink.

M.O.C: Has many arms with which to hold and protect your drink, but also lacks a face with which to watch it.

Wild: Fuses with you into one ultimate being. Now *we're* going to the bathroom.

E Tier

Apotheosis: As you approach her outside (she can't fit in the building) your drink is pulled from your hand by her gravitational force and floats away. You're not getting it back.

Contrarian: While you're gone he dumps your drink out on the floor bc he thinks it'd be funny. He immediately feels bad about it and goes to buy you a new one but he doesn't actually know what you had before so he just ends up getting you a coke zero.

Drowned Grey: When you return, the contents of your glass have been replaced by a strange, murky liquid. It carries a faint scent of blood. You ask her what it is and she vanishes with a mysterious smile.

Eye of the Needle: Smashes your drink on the ground and demands you fight her in the parking lot.

Cold: Takes your drink, then leaves it on a table and watches from a distance "just to see what happens."

Tower: Downs your drink while maintaining unbroken eye contact. Claims she thought you bought it for her. Obviously lying.

F Tier

Beast: Swallows your drink whole. She gets broken glass stuck in her throat and you have to take her to the emergency room.

Razor: Your glass slides out of her knife hands and shatters on the floor. Then she skewers you.

Witch: Throws your drink on the ground, laughs at you, then steps on some of the broken glass while trying to walk away. That's another emergency room visit.

Burned Grey: Before you can ask her anything, she sets the both of you and the entire bar on fire.

Opportunist: I don't think I need to explain why asking him is a bad idea. He gives your drink away to the first person who asks. Actually, they probably don't even need to ask.

Anyway have fun and be responsible this holiday season also feel free to add any additions/corrections you have, bye.

[formylovetodaryldixon]

"Like gravity." Daryl Dixon Imagine.

@fluffy-dixon: Okay, so this is my request. Maybe prison era? Daryl and OC became quite close during their time at the Quary as she was one of the only people (obvs minus Carol) that checked in on him, spoke to him, spent time with him etc and actually cared about him. She was a bit of an outcast as well. But when they get to the prison they have a little bit more time to settle down and actually become a thing, daryl is utterly in love with her but is too afraid to say but he takes her out hunting and while they're hunting he comes accross some rabbits that he wants to kill for food but she won't let him because she used to keep rabbits herself and the thought of it broke her heart but he let's it slip that he loves her because he says something along the lines of, 'god damnit woman, if I didn't love you so much they'd be cooking in a stew' or something like that. Take of it as you will but yeah ❤️

Hi, love! You are my first request and it was soooo sweet I loved writing it! I really, really hope this comes a little closer to what you had in mind. If not, I'm sorry :c But thank you so much♥

A/N: I laughed a little writing Merle even though he's also an idiot haha ​​but spoiler alert: Merle telling Daryl that he should marry you or fuck you or both made me laugh. I borrowed a scene from Carol and Daryl too hehe. Hope you like this!

When a woman is in love, you can see it in her smile. When a man is in love, you can see in his eyes.

Daryl’s eyes, they spoke so loudly the words he was so afraid to say. And now, they can’t hide that sparkle of hope every time he sees you. But if you could ask him when he started looking at you differently, he would tell you it was the first time you sat down next to the bonfire he and his brother made, too overwhelmed to be around so many people in the camp outside the city.

It happens the moment it starts raining pretty heavily, with Merle cursing the sky before locking himself in his tent. That was the first time Daryl heard your laugh since he met you: a sweet, innocent sound full of colors in that grey world. For a minute, you’re too immersed in your own happiness looking up, a hand outstretched to feel the raindrops. But the moment you look back at Daryl, he shifts his gaze to the arrow he was carving with his knife, because the way you looked at him was almost overwhelming for Daryl, so deep as that color of your gaze.

You were a sweet thing to look at, but the more you talked with each other, the more he saw different facets of you.

The first time you actually talked, you told him to fuck off, and Daryl could say that was one of his favorite moments with you. It happens when he comes back from hunting, with some squirrels in his bag, and he sees you a little bit far from the main group, pulling a pack of cigarettes from your black jeans.

You don’t notice that he is looking at you, with a confused expression but with a deep gaze, as if you were the most difficult puzzle to put together. Daryl never liked riddles, those mind games, and you looked exactly like them, too difficult to understand at first glance.

He approaches you.

“Care to share?” Daryl asks when he stops next to you, so you give the package to him. “M’ Daryl, by the way.”

“(Y/N).” You say, simply.

Daryl can’t help but scoff as he lights a cigarette, because it was his nature to repel anything that seemed soft, tender, weak in his eyes, almost like your name.

“That’s a princess name, y'know?”

However, to his own surprise, you chuckle.

“Fuck you, Daryl. I didn’t ask for your opinion on my name.”

But your voice full of boldness telling him fuck you makes him chuckle too: a low, masculine sound, but transparent as Daryl pushes the smoke away before looking at you.

“What's on the menu tonight?” He nods towards the group.

You take the cigarette from your lips, pushing the smoke out before talking, too.

“Canned beans, just like yesterday and probably tomorrow and for the rest of our lives.”

As you look straight ahead, analyzing always the situation you’re in, Daryl watches you, taking in everything: at first sight, there is this fierceness in your gaze but that seemed to be compassionate too, with a free attitude but that seemed to analyze everything. You seem to be a rebellious soul, almost as lost as he was.

“Have ya ever tried squirrels?” Daryl asks softly, kind of awkward. You look at him, shaking your head. “M’ cookin’ ‘em if ya wanna join us.”

He starts walking towards his own camp when you talk again.

“You don’t hunt rabbits, do you?”

Daryl turns around, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“Why?”

It was stupid, you know it, so you just shake your head.

“It's nothing. I think I'll accept your invitation, so thank you.”

Too confused, Daryl nods before walking again so he misses the way you look at him this time. You can notice the beautiful color of his eyes behind that mocking, condescending expression on his almost stupid but very attractive face. A few strands of his hair, dark blonde or almost brown, fell over his forehead, framing that deep but accusatory look he had for everybody. His shoulders are broad, and although he didn’t look like a person who flaunted himself, his sleeveless shirt doesn’t leave much to the imagination when you can see the muscles in his arms. It was the end of the world, the beginning of a new one, but that didn't mean you had gone blind.

However, the next thing that happens with Merle, must have given Daryl some clue as to the feelings he would develop for you in the near future, because the moment you reach his camp that night, Merle is alone.

“Well, well, ain’t ya a beauty?” Merle smiles and looks at you up and down, practically eating you up with his eyes. “Ma baby brotha said he invited ya but I didn’t think ya would come to him, not when m’ the good–lookin’ one.” He comes closer, slowly and dangerously. “Ya got a name, darlin’?”

“(Y/N).” The women and men in the camp warned you about Merle Dixon, but you manage to smile at him, playing with fire even when you knew you could get hurt. “Don’t tell this to Daryl but you are the good–looking one.”

He smiles, he just can’t help it, wildly like a predator when the animal knew in its gills that it was about to capture the prey.

“Ya really look like a refined woman, darlin’, If I feed ya squirrels too, would ya moan ma name at the end of the night? I promise I’ll make ya beg for more.”

You raise an eyebrow, looking at him, but before you can answer back, Daryl walks back from the woods.

“Merle, for once in yer life, shut the fuck up.”

However, Merle finds that even extra funny, and he keeps walking towards you. But you know well that the first to look away in the staring game loses, so you, without any fear in your eyes, wait until Merle is close enough, and at that moment, you catch the handle of the gun that was hidden at the back of your waist, under your black cardigan, and you press it to Daryl’s asshole brother’s chin.

Merle holds his breath, unlike his baby brother who finds the situation strangely attractive, and kind of hot too.

“I’m begging you now, Merle, please repeat everything you just said. I promise you that before you finish saying the last word, you will run out of a mouth and jaw to say it.”

He swallows the lump in his throat, because he was an idiot, yes, but even Merle Dixon knew when to back off at the threat of a bullet, which came from a person who really seemed determined to do it.

“I was jus’ kiddin’ with ya, sweetheart.” He tries to laugh, but his smile trembles at the cold of the gun. “Ya wouldn’t do that to yer new friend Merle.”

You chuckle, pulling it away.

“I am normally a sweetheart, Merle, but I am also the person capable of sinking the fucking ship with myself inside just so that no one is saved. You know what I mean by that?”

He nods, clearing his throat so his words wouldn’t break off mid–sentence.

“Guess yer ma brotha’s new friend?”

You look back at Daryl, who is looking at you with a frown (something normal now for you), but also with an amused expression.

Then, you look back at Merle.

“Something like that.”

“Well… welcome to our lovely home, darlin’!” He smiles, after taking a silent deep breath of relief, and he looks at his brother. “You got to fuck or marry this woman, baby brotha, or both. Condoms are on ma tent!”

He laughs walking to the woods, and that was disgusting and it makes you wonder, where the hell did you got yourself into?

But things from there, were like a roller–coaster going only up. You and Daryl were like an unlikely duo, but maybe that was why you both looked good together. Despite the danger, you two found a new world in which you wanted to continue living, delving into the unknown that was falling in love.

The moment the family you made reached the prison, that gave you two a safe place to, start a thing, you could say.

During one of the first months and when your sleeping world turned red like bright blood, you come out to see the stars from the front of the prison. So you sit there, in an old desk, with your legs falling from the edge and a dead feeling in the depths of your soul.

From afar, Daryl watches you with a cigarette in between his lips. By that moment, Daryl already knew what name to give to his feelings for you, but although he was an brave hunter, he was also too shy to accept that revelation. However, it was the way your eyes used to look at everything that caught him from the beginning: always with attention, always thinking what was best for your safety and what would keep you alive. But also the way your gaze seemed to rest from that life, from pain and fear, and then all that force disappeared when you used to look for something better, something meaningful.

Like gravity, you became the person who kept him standing on the ground.

Daryl blows out the smoke from his cigarette, watching you as he walks towards you. What you were caught him in a way that should never have happened. But your strongest side and your weakest one, the good and the bad that could be in you: he found himself looking in your direction all the time since he met you, always aware of where you were inside and outside the prison, always stuck to you like a lost puppy as Carol used to say.

“Hey…” He says softly, in a deep, hoarse voice as he sits next to you. “Shouldn’t ya be sleepin’?”

You smile gently at him, enough to brighten your eyes.

“Shouldn’t you?”

And there it was, the way you sounded like a worried girlfriend. Fuck, Daryl loved that, Daryl loved you. But there he was: feeling too much for you, or maybe feeling too little for a life that deserved to be lived to the end.

“I don’ sleep.”

You look at him with a curiosity expression.

“You dream too much?” You ask. Daryl frowns at you, not because he is upset, but confused that you knew exactly the reason behind his sleepless nights. “When I was a baby and I couldn’t sleep, my mom used to caress my hair so softly that I felt sleepy quickly. Do you want me to do that to you?”

You are joking, kind of, but you know your words would only make him shy as he scoffs.

“I ain’t a fuckin’ baby.”

You chuckle.

“Fuck you, Dixon. I was just trying to be nice.”

However, Daryl looks at you with a frown, and an almost exasperated expression.

“Woman, almost every day ya curse at me. I dunno how I let ya kiss me with that mouth.”

His words make you laugh, and Daryl would be lying if he said that wasn't his favorite sound in the whole world.

“I do that because you deserve it.” You chuckle, taking the cigarette from his fingers to take a blow, looking at the stars as an idea came to your mind. “Now that we are awake, you wanna screw around while everyone is asleep?”

You try to hold back your laughter as he looks back at you, thanking the night that you didn't see his ears starting to turn red at your bluntness. 

“Ya could ask me nicely. Y’know?” 

You roll your eyes as you jump out of the desk, walking back to the door.

“Fine. If you are not in the mood, I will go back to sleep. Goodnight.”

The painful truth revealed in front of Daryl’s eyes, and it was more frightening than being near death, but more exciting than… Daryl couldn’t compare that feeling with anything else, because he never loved anyone until you came along.

But as Daryl walks towards you, he can’t say it, not yet.

“Fuck, wait. I ain’t sayin’ no.”

But what a great feeling that pressure on his chest was. It was sweet and kind of terrifying at the same time, so real and unreal at the same time. It was like a dream where he could feel everything, but wanting to stay in that place if it meant living there with you.

The next day after everyone received their assignments, Daryl took you hunting with him: that was his silent way of saying he wanted to be alone with you. He was always a quiet person, but while been there with you, Daryl asked you question after question because he wanted to hear long answers, to know more and more about you.

“Ya got a favorite color?” He asks, walking side to side with you, attentive to your words but also to everything around, crossbow in hand to catch the day's food.

“Well…” You bite your lips as you chuckle. You never had a favorite color before, but the night he invited you to eat with him, it seemed like that blank space was always reserved for the color of his eyes. “Blue, I guess. You?”

Strangely, Daryl wanted to say the same thing about your eyes, but when a sound in the bushes catches his attention, he asks you to be quiet as he walks in front of you. His steps are light, but you stay close the moment Daryl pushes the branches aside.

Two little white rabbits froze there, too terrified to move.

“I got us the food.” He says, raising his crossbow.

It takes you a single second, and you know it is wrong, but sometimes feelings are stronger than good judgment.

“No, wait!” You stop him before he shot them, making him turn to you. “Please, don’t. Just, fuck…” You curse under your breath, feeling like a little girl again. “The night you invited me to eat those squirrels, I asked you if you hunted rabbits, remember?” He nods. “I didn’t say this before but before my mom died, she gave me a rabbit that I raised as my son for many years.” You shake your head, feeling a little silly. “Please, don’t kill them. I’m begging you.”

Daryl can see the prayer in your gaze, in those shy eyes that most of the time used to be full of life, always glowing when you used to say things just to make him nervous. So finally, Daryl lowers his crossbow, looking at the rabbits before looking back at you.

“God dammit, woman, if I didn't love ya so much they'd be cookin' in a stew.” He freezes for a second, listening clearly to his heartbeat as he walks away, but Daryl has to clear his throat so his voice wouldn’t break off mid–sentence. “Let's go over there and see if we can get some squirrels instead.”

You smile to yourself as you start following him.

You knew well you could die tomorrow, or the day after that, and although you were afraid your dead could be painful, it could be quick too and then you would die in the middle of a breath, with an incomplete phrase that you will never be able to finish. And you didn’t want that, you wanted to be honest with yourself, you wanted to say what was in my mind and not let your thoughts die If something happened to you at any time.

You wanted to say I love you too aloud. And that night, as you stroked his hair, again, (because he secretly loved it just like he loved you) you said those words to him.

[scrapyardboyfriends]

for those of us casuals who abandoned ship when robert left, how would you describe the changes in aaron’s character since we last saw him?

he seems in some ways more emotionally open in his relationship, at least as far as saying i love you more frequently and easily, and getting married to someone he’s known 9 months. but i read he came back a chas-anti and that losing liv (and robert) made him harder.

hes in a marriage which is clearly not long for this world so not sure how much of his vibe rn is his new vibe or is john specific?

Aaron has had a lot of misery and trauma to deal with in these last six years and I think he's been really beaten down and exhausted and I feel like the idea of John represented a little bit of hope for him but I feel like a lot of his "emotional openness" that you've been seeing in these last couple weeks is more to do with the fact that A) he's trying to convince himself he loves John and B) it's easier to say to John because he doesn't feel it as deeply.

His post Robert spiral was rough. He was just doing anything and everything to try and feel something. He was so broken and it was very sad. There were lots of reckless hook ups, drinking, lots of crime with Cain. Then he also lost access to Seb, which just broke him more. Seb was like this last shred of hope and that life he lost that he could hold onto and that was taken from him too.

I think the lockdown episode where he got that letter from Robert settled something in him for a bit. It let him know that Robert really did love him and it allowed him, for plot purposes to say that he would always love Robert but if the chance to move on came around, he felt like he could take it now.

Then he meets Ben. I don't think he had nearly the same emotional openness with Ben as he appears to have right now with John. I don't even think they did their cringe in unison "I love you" until just before Ben was about to be paddled to death. Also Covid meant they blessedly had very little physical affection. Plus the most emotion Aaron showed during that whole relationship was when the idea of Robert appealing came up and he "chose" Ben over the potential heartbreak of Robert not winning said appeal.

During the Ben era, they also did the Liv alcoholism story, which really exhausted Aaron even more. He was trying so hard to help her and she just was not in a place to accept that and their relationship got even more toxic than it had ever been before to the point where they actually finally acknowledged it when he was going to move away with Ben. And he left on very bad terms with her because he thought she'd killed Ben.

So then he's all "this place hasn't been the same since Robert went to prison" and he goes off to hang with Adam on the run, which apparently landed him in Italy where he met off screen Marco. Now we know nothing about Marco, except that Aaron was apparently happy cause you know...he was off screen and the angst plots couldn't get him there. But I would imagine that getting out of the village and all of the memories was probably really helpful for him at the time.

Then he came back for the 50th anniversary. He reconciled with Liv but then she died and that was horrible for him. He also discovered Chas's ongoing affair with Al, which is why she forced Aaron out of the village on the day of Liv's funeral because she wanted to keep her secret.

Then Italy wasn't so great for him anymore. He was grieving and spiraling and off screen Marco was not a good support system and broke up with him. He was apparently being reckless enough to steal 30 grand from the Italian mafia and worried Adam enough to call Cain.

So Cain and Caleb drag him back and hold him hostage basically in a barn. This Aaron was a mess. He was very much a Chas Anti because he blamed her for Liv's death. Her meeting with Al during the storm got her injured and Paddy wanted to go see her in hospital and sent Liv out into the storm to check on Eve, which got her crushed by the caravan. And then he also blamed her for taking away his support system when grieving her death. And brought up a lot of stuff from the past if I recall. But he was mostly blaming her for Liv's death so all of the other very valid complaints kind of got swept under the rug.

Anyway, he was pretty awful to everyone. He was mean to Sam, to Paddy, to Vinny. He had a whole thing with Cain that resulted in them trying to beat each other up and landed Cain in hospital with some brief, curable for the plot, brain damage. Everyone hated him and wished he'd never come back even though they had dragged him back.

Then Chas got cancer and he was like "great I'm going to lose someone else maybe" and he tried to run away and leave again. Mack tracked him down and they had a long chat about how Aaron couldn't stand to lose another person, go to another funeral etc and how he was putting on this act of not caring because it was easier than getting close to people and then losing them. That last part feels pretty poignant to now.

So after that chat, he came back and reconciled with Chas and then stepped up to help her with her treatment and recovery and everyone else eventually stopped hating him completely. He settled down a bit again. But he was still pretty empty and didn't have a lot going on. (I'm still working my way through some of his 2024 stuff). I just got to the part about him telling Chas he is positive for the cancer gene and talking about how he doesn't want to die.

And then just before the John stuff started, he had apparently decided to get back on the apps so he was starting to open himself up to the possibility of meeting someone and moving on.

And then he met John. And he hated him at first. Didn't want to even go there because of all the Robert stuff his presence brought up. But then the Plot must Plot so he did go there. But he wasn't very emotionally open with him either at first. And John basically had to manipulate a half hearted "I think I might love you" confession out of him by lying about his Aiden trauma some more.

He didn't really start being more open about telling John he loved him until after John had helped out with the Anthony stuff and disposed of the body when Aaron thought he'd killed him. And I think that A) led him to be very grateful and B) led to John manipulating him more and being like "this is what people in love do" etc. And I think that led to Aaron saying "I love you" a lot more.

And now, like I said at the top of this very long response, I feel like he's saying "I love you" a lot more because he's trying to placate him and also convince himself and because it's easier to say to John because he doesn't love him the same way as Robert. He tells Robert "it's just words" when he tells him he still loves him but that's what I would call it when he tells John he loves him.

I do think he wants to love John. I think he thinks it would be easier if he could just be with John and spare himself the risk of utter destruction if he let's Robert back in and loses him again.

So I guess, all this to say, I don't think Aaron is suddenly better with expressing his feelings or that he'll be telling Robert he loves him all the time or whatever when they get back together. I feel like Aaron regressed in a lot of ways post Robert, partially because they didn't know what else to do with his character. So I think him learning to trust Robert again, to trust love again, would actually be good growth for him.

[bullseyelover]

random dex character analysis lol.

i’ve been thinking a lot about dex wearing the balaclava again in season 2 of born again and how strange that choice feels, especially considering everything he’s been through since season 3. in season 1, it makes sense. he was fresh out of the psych ward, still under vanessa’s control, and he believed the job was a one time thing. kill foggy and benjamin, and vanish. it was supposed to be clean, precise. so of course he wore the mask to protect his identity. he even threw a smoke bomb before entering josie’s not just to cause chaos, but probably to avoid being seen. it was meant to be surgical. like a professional hit.

but that’s not what happened. he doesn’t act like a methodical hitman in that scene, we know he is capable of being one but in this scene he’s not controlled. he’s unraveling. phil silvera (the stunt director for daredevil) said it himself that dex isn’t killing for the thrill, he’s killing anything he sees as a threat. at first, it’s just people with weapons. but he’s so on edge, so paranoid, that it spirals. soon, he’s killing people who haven’t even seen him. he’s trapped in this kill or be killed mindset, and the second someone flinches, he reacts. and when he finally snaps out of it just for a second he whispers, “what have you done?” like he blacked out. like he doesn’t even remember doing it. like he’s scared of what just happened because what was supposed to be a clean job had spiraled out of his control. but it doesn’t stop there. he keeps going because his body’s in survival mode. he doesn’t know what else to do.

then in season 2 he’s still wearing the balaclava. and yeah, visually i get it. the suit is striking. but narratively it doesn’t hold up. dex isn’t hiding anymore. everyone knows who he is. fisk knows, matt knows, the public knows. after the trial, his face and name are already tied to everything that happened at josie’s. his escape from prison was probably posted in the papers. there’s no anonymity left to protect. and honestly dex would want fisk to know it’s him. he want fisk to see his face while he tears his empire down. wearing the mask just feels off unless they’re gonna give us an in universe reason why. it can make sense considering the whole storyline with fisk hating vigilantes and people in masks and blah blah but he’d have to recreate that whole suit from scratch too. the old one would’ve been ripped up and in evidence custody.

it would actually be way scarier if dex didn’t wear a mask until he finally puts on the iconic bullseye mask from the comics. because when someone wears a mask to commit a crime, the implication is that they plan on people surviving. they’re hiding their identity for a reason. but someone like dex walking into a room with a knife and no mask, that’s terrifying. that means he doesn’t plan on leaving any witnesses. that means he doesn’t care if he’s recognized. that’s way more unhinged than anything else.

with dex wearing the balaclava you have to factor in his sensory issues. dex never wore a tie in season 3. his collars were always open, even in formal settings. to me, that’s a clear sign of sensory discomfort. and it tracks with him being neurodivergent, which we already know he is. the only time he ever wore tight clothing was the daredevil suit, and even that looked like it was pushing his limits. so wearing something like a balaclava which would be tight, hot, suffocating, that has to be overstimulating as hell. but maybe that’s the point. maybe it’s a way for him to punish himself. or maybe it helps him focus. it could be a kind of sensory grounding or even a trigger that helps him disassociate. like flipping a switch. putting on the mask could help him shut everything else out. turn into the version of himself that can kill then have a milkshake afterwards and not care about potential goodness, just revenge.

it makes sense when you realize he was going through withdrawal at josie’s. we saw the meds. that man was on at least eight pills, probably multiple times a day. a combo of SSRIs, benzos, antipsychotics, and mood stabilizers. not for healing, but for sedation. the system didn’t want to help him, they wanted to contain him. dull everything that made him him, but also what made him dangerous. and it worked. dex in episode 9 was barely responsive. sweaty, unfocused, dissociating out the window. couldn’t even hold a pen. he was being erased. and if vanessa hadn’t pulled him out, he would’ve stayed like that forever. but she didn’t save him, she just reactivated his pain.

dex going off all those meds cold turkey after nearly a decade would’ve been catastrophic both physically and mentally. we’re talking full system collapse. the benzos and antipsychotics alone would cause tremors, nausea, cold sweats, muscle cramps, disorientation, rebound paranoia, and emotional whiplash. his sleep would be wrecked, his coordination off. he’d probably be shaking, dizzy, hyper sensitive to noise and light. on top of that, he’s got to have chronic spinal pain from season 3, which the meds were likely numbing too so now it’s back in full force. and emotionally everything he’d been suppressing for eight years, the grief, the guilt, the rage, is coming back raw and unchecked. no regulation. no buffers. just pure nervous system overload. so when he walks into josie’s, he’s not walking in as a hired assassin. he’s walking in as someone with no brakes left. no filter between thought and action. it’s not all premeditated. it’s survival instinct. he’s scared. overstimulated. furious. and the second things go sideways, his brain goes straight to destroy the threat. and that’s what makes it so terrifying. he’s not in control. he’s reacting to a body and mind that’s been chemically shattered.

that’s what makes josie’s hit so messy. if he were in control, he could’ve just sniped foggy and vanished. clean and efficient. but that’s not what he does. he throws the smoke bomb, walks into the chaos, and kills two people immediately. he clearly dressed for a fight with his suit, knives, gloves but that doesn’t mean it was planned. he probably had less than two days between getting released and carrying out the hit. he had no time to recover. he was still in withdrawal. his brain chemistry was shot. physically, mentally, emotionally he’s fried. he’s walking into that scene running purely on instinct. just go, go, go. self preservation mode. there’s no grand plan.

but he has resentment, he says “hello, karen” like someone who hasn’t forgotten what she did. but that doesn’t mean he came there to go on a rampage. that part wasn’t intentional. it was triggered. and once it started, it couldn’t stop. and all of it. the withdrawal, the sensory overload, the fear, the rage gets projected into that suit. into that mask. into the version of himself who can’t feel anything but violence.

but he’s not bullseye yet. but he’s getting there. and maybe the scariest part is even he doesn’t know if he wants to stop. in season 2, dex wearing the same suit again but this time with a bullseye on the mask feels different. it’s not about hiding anymore. it’s not about the fisk’s orders. it’s about ownership. he’s not wearing the mask because he’s being used, he’s choosing it. and adding the bullseye symbol to the suit is his way of reclaiming everything that broke him. he wore the suit for vanessa at josie’s, but now he’s turning it into his own. whether that’s empowering or self destructive, it’s both. because for dex, violence and identity have always been intertwined. so putting a bullseye on his forehead is like saying fine this is what he is now. the fisks made him into this, so he’s gonna own it. even if it destroys him into becoming fully bullseye because maybe part of him thinks it’s the only identity that ever really fit even though deep down, he still doesn’t know who he is without someone else pulling the strings.

it’s important to remember that none of dex’s trauma, withdrawal, sensory issues, overmedication, or manipulation excuses what he’s done. not in season three, not at josie’s, not ever. he was always dangerous. even before fisk, dex was not an innocent man destroyed by a villain. he was already suffering and already volatile. he was already doing things that crossed lines. but he was trying. he had structure, he had control. he was holding himself together the only way he knew how. at the start of season three he could be considered an antihero. not someone good, but someone trying to be, in his own way. and that’s what makes his downfall so brutal. because fisk didn’t create the monster, he used what was already there. he took dex’s mental illness, his loneliness, his desperation for meaning and connection, and he weaponized it. he groomed him. exploited his pain. and then when dex outlived his usefulness, he threw him away.

but dex was always in control of his actions. he made the choices, even though he was manipulated into them and now he’s living with the consequences of them. understanding his story isn’t about excusing what he did it’s about seeing the full truth of who he is. after the events of season three, the court didn’t send him to prison. they sent him to a psychiatric facility. that tells you everything. they saw someone beyond punishment, someone they didn’t even think could be rehabilitated. not a man who needed help, but one who needed to be contained. to be silenced. sedated. erased.

and that’s what makes his return in born again so compelling and so tragic. because he’s not quiet anymore. season two could show us a man who’s clawing his way back to himself. not fully bullseye yet, not fully lost either. he wants revenge and autonomy. and if there’s a “good” way to get it, maybe he’ll take it. but if there’s not, he’ll burn every bridge without hesitation. dex should become a supervillain, that is what the character of bullseye needs to be. wilson bethel said dex’s arc is about redemption but not in the way you expect. and maybe that’s because real redemption for dex isn’t about being a hero, it’s about being honest. it’s about accepting who he is which is someone the system failed, someone who tried to be good, someone who was broken and used and manipulated but who still gets up. who still fights. but not to be a hero, but to be truly and unashamed in who he is.

[romanticintheory]

thinking about simon riley being betrayed by reader.

simon "ghost" riley x reader

-when you first joined the task force, you were a breath of fresh air.

-you were extremely good at what you did and had great chemistry with everyone. even simon.

-kyle loved having you as his new training buddy. the two of you found that your music tastes surprisingly overlapped, so you'd often share playlists with each other.

-johnny was, as always, excited to have someone new to banter with. if he had to take a shot for every time you made him laugh, he'd probably be dead from alcohol poisoning.

-john was relieved seeing you integrate so well into his team. it was like introducing a new puppy to three of his own. when laswell sat him down and introduced your file, a little barren compared to the others (save for simon) but with a raving review from the woman herself, he was curious to see your character.

-and even if he didn't show it, simon was the most grateful for your arrival. there was just an unspoken level of understanding between the two of you.

-one day, you're kneeling next to him on the floor trying to put pressure on his wound and keep him alive long enough for help to arrive. you didn't know each other extremely well, but you seemed so upset. he couldn't imagine why.

-"hey, now, don't go quiet on me, lt," you said in an almost begging tone.

-"you must not know me well," he replied, fighting groans from the pain.

-you ignore his attempt at amusing you. "tell me something," you order, voice starting to crack.

-so, he did. maybe it was the fact that he was lightheaded from the blood loss and half delusional, or maybe it was that he wanted to feel closer to you, but he ended up telling you about his family. he talked about the monster of a man his father was, how he learned to throw him out and take care of his family, and how not even that had a happy ending.

-by the end of it, there was a voice on the other end of your radio telling you they were less than a minute away from help. you slipped your hand into his and told him, "if you can survive that, you can survive this."

-it wasn't until after he recovered that he found out you had your own stab wound to take care of. why you completely disregarded it in favor of his, he'll never know.

-ever since, there was a change in the air between you two. fleeting glances, lingering touches, warm faces. it got even worse when you confessed your feelings to each other, and johnny made sure to be as obnoxious about it as possible.

-for a long time before you, simon felt a kind of loneliness within him. sure, the rest of the team was good company and he'd trust them with his life, but you seemed to do more than just break down his walls. somehow, you seeped through the cracks in his heart and made a home of it. that's why he is so surprised when everyone is taken prisoner except you after an unexpected ambush.

-the surprise eventually turns into something worse.

-there's a blinding rage surging in his veins and an icy coldness in his heart when he catches a glimpse of you acting buddy-buddy with the enemy.

-you're called a name he had never heard before, "(y/n) (l/n)," and being congratulated on your return.

-"knew you'd never disappoint us! and four of 'em, too!"

-how could you to this to them? to him?

-he spends the next excruciatingly long hours as a prisoner with no sleep. the only thing on his mind is wondering what went wrong. what did he miss? what could he have done differently? for a second, he wants to think about how he'd get vengeance on you, but he couldn't. his mind wouldn't let him, and he cursed himself for it. were you that good at manipulation? at seducing him with your supposed love and humanity that, even now, he can't think of you with ill intent without that sour feeling in his chest haunting him?

-he thinks he's hallucinating when he sees you standing at the now unlocked door to his cell with the rest of the task force standing behind you. you speak in a quick, hushed whisper, as if there was barely any time to even say a single word.

-"you'll have to be quick if you want to get out of here."

[antoimne]

hai haiiiii can i pls request any 2 idv men (whoever you want) with a reader who faints from fear during a match?

Heyo! First of all, tysm for the ask!! It’s my first time doing this so srry in advance if it’s not what you expected 😭 I’m so so anxious but I really hope it’s not too bad, enjoy! (Also choose Norton and Luca cuz I love them both but if you wanted someone else feel free to tell me ^-^)

Norton Campbell and Luca Balsa with a reader who faints from fear in matches.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽N O R T O N ☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅


Norton is not a gentle guy—that much everyone, including himself, knew.
He was used to fighting for the bare minimum, struggling among men just as desperate as him. He was used to being wary of others, attentive and alert, like people could fool him at any moment if he wasn’t sharp enough.
The incident at the mine sure didn’t help—it shortened his temper even more, turning him into a ticking time bomb, ready to explode at the bare minimum.

When he first met you, it was—expectedly—not easy.
You’d been liked by everyone ever since you arrived at the manor, open and bright like the shiniest star; the complete opposite of his harsh, gloomy demeanor.
But if anyone knew that opposites attract—it was him.

You’d taken a liking to the Prospector despite his hard exterior, convinced that you wanted to know him—the real him—beneath that façade.
It took time—probably longer than you’d liked.
At first, he was avoidant. But your persistence became...almost pleasant. A gentle routine he learned to look forward to.

He’s not one to show affection easily, and he’s mostly big on acts of service, which is why he’s always keeping an eye on you, noticing even the smallest details when you’re not looking.
Keeping you safe. Keeping you treasured.

He takes note of what you like, dislike—what you fear.
He remembers those flowers you said you liked.
Suddenly, they’re growing in the greenhouse just behind the manor.

Spider in your room?
He’ll burn the whole place down if it means you’ll sleep soundly.

Most of all, he knows about your fear of being chased—ironic and inconvenient, considering the situation you’re in.

He knows how you panic easily just hearing that all-too-familiar heartbeat speeding up.
Knows how your hands start to shake, how your mind fogs over.
How your legs weaken. How your vision blurs.
You have this habit—of fainting when it all gets too overwhelming.

But don’t worry. He’s got you.

His hands are firm but careful as they cradle you. He hushes you in a low voice, tucking you behind a big rock or the shell of an abandoned car.

“I’m here. You’re safe.”

Your heart slowly begins to return to its normal rhythm.

Norton shields your body, caressing your forehead with his callous hand.

“If they want to get you, they’ll have to get through me first. I’ve already lost too much to lose you too”.
He’s got you—and you have nothing to fear.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽L U C A☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Luca gets lost in his own inventions.
Lost as in a deep-dive, full-on hyperfocused — the kind where the world fades away and only blueprints, wires, and flowing abstract concepts seem to count.
He doesn’t mean to ignore things, nevertheless you. He adores you, truly. You’re one of the few people at the manor who listens — really listens to his endless ramblings about circuits and gears. You’ve even tested a few of his inventions yourself- a shocking experience in all senses.

He’s glad he met you.
You see him for more than just the genius inventor. Not as the prisoner. Not the broken prodigy. Just Luca — quirks, flaws, messy hair, lazy eyes and all.

"Last machine..." he muttered, his sharp canine just barely peeking out from his lip — the usual sign he’s buried deep in thought.

Suddenly you can hear heavy footsteps coming from the distance.
The usual loud heartbeat pounds in your ears like drums.

"..."

“Hey? Don’t stand there! We need to finish this cipher before—” he chirped, not noticing the way your hands trembled as they hovered over the console.

Your fingers grasped the edges of the machine, desperately trying to anchor yourself to reality as you could feel yourself slipping away.
Vision blurring. Breath coming out short.

“Hey? Hey—are you—?”
He reached for your hand—
Then everything went dark.

“Darling? Oh god—”
Luca knelt beside you, holding your body in between his surprisingly steady arms.

“I thought i almost electrocuted you,” he stammered. “When I saw you pass out like that, I panicked and i messed up the machine and it exploded, and—”

He trailed off, running a hand through his hair, sighing loudly.

“I’m sorry.”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. Don’t say that—don’t blame yourself,” you murmured, your voice warm.

His gaze softened as he gently pressed his gloved hand on your cheek.
“It’s my fault. You know how I get with this tech stuff — I hyperfocus and forget the rest of the world even exists. I knew you had that fear. I should’ve noticed—how could I not notice sooner—” he kept rambling, more to himself than you.

You leaned up just enough to press a light kiss to his temple.
“Luca. Stop spiraling. I’m okay. Really.”

He let out yet another long breath, chuckling slightly.
“‘Aight... but maybe next time just tap my shoulder or— I don’t know—pull me out the spiral, ok?”

[skhv67]

prisoner/patient!nam-gyu x therapist!reader

word count: 2.170

trigger warnings: partially non-con, it gets a bit steamy but not smut really, blood, murder, reader is gender neutral but has a coochie, nam-gyu is a bit manipulative, English ain't my first language

"Ten minutes and 59 seconds."

The sharp piece of metal he had hidden under his bed was now on his hands slightly piercing through the pale skin of his hands while he was lost in his thoughts. Fixing his gaze on a blank spot on the wall, he let his mind wander freely over the possible things he could do after this evening. He could probably go to his plug to get himself a treat for all the time he had endured in this facility, or maybe go to the club to see some familiar faces.

"Six minutes and thirty seconds..."

The adrenaline started to spread through his limbs and the excitement made it hard for him to stay still but he tried his hardest to keep himself composed to not draw any attention while the day was so silent.

While he knew that he probably should be thinking about a strategy or going over the plan again to avoid mistakes, his excitement wouldn't let his mind focus. As he kept picturing what to do after everything was over, images of you plagued his mind suddenly. How could I forget that? A little smirk peeked through his lips as he tapped his foot on the floor in an awful attempt to contain the sudden rush of excitement he felt.

"Three minutes."

Nam-gyu stared at the self inflicted wound —though not intentionally— expressionless. He breathed in and out slowly to calm his nerves as he put the handmade blade up his sleeve, which covered his whole hand anyway. He didn't even have the time right now to reminiscence how hard and painfully long the process of getting a sharp object in a place specifically made to avoid this at all costs was.

He forced himself to go over the plan during the last minute he had before the disaster began. It was simple, he didn't have a big role during the riot, he left that to the ones that had orchestrated all of this, he'd just take the sweet part of the consequences, that being having an opportunity to escape or at least killing a person or two. Worst outcome would be extending his sentence and reinforcing his therapy which meant more time with you, and he couldn't complain about that. He imagined that at this time of the day you'd be listening to one of the plenty of weirdos this place has to offer, but with a pretty smile adoring your face while you carefully helped them with the most gentle and sweet tone he has ever heard. The little smile that has crept up his face leaving immediately as he felt a sting of jealousy at the thought of you helping these people, — at the thought of him just being like the rest in your eyes.

He had to shake his head to bring himself down to earth again, he kept getting distracted. He just had to wait for the signal after the recreational activities end and immobilize —or kill— the guards during the distraction. It'd be easy as the place was understaffed and some of the prisoners had smuggled in some guns... Besides about two guards were paid to turn a blind eye to what was going to happen.

The sound of the rusty door being opened brought him back to his senses and he got up immediately to follow the guard to the room where his lessons would begin in a few minutes. On the way he couldn't help glancing at the door with your name in a little plaque, your charge on the bottom of it. His jaw clenched when he heard your voice talking sweetly to an inmate through the silence of the hallway. Stop, stop, stop...

I'm special to them.

The lesson went painfully slow and he counted down the time for it to be over every five minutes, his mind wandering every time he tried to focus on the time. He was so eager to use the makeshift knife he kept caressing under his sleeve, to get out of here and finally sleep on a real bed, to get the pills he missed so much, to pay you a visit in the middle of the chaos...

"If nobody has any questions, the class is over."

As the guards guided them to the hall, some screams alerted them. A fight between a few inmates broke out, and a few men were trying to separate them. Nam-gyu looked around, nervous eyes trying to connect with anyone that could confirm to him that this was the signal they needed, but everybody was focused on the fight.

He quickly noticed that the fight was getting a little too big to handle for the few poor guards that were there. As one of them was about to call reinforcement, a dark red spot appeared on his chest, probably inflicted by a makeshift knife like the one in his hand.

As Nam-gyu saw this, he didn't waste time burying his own weapon on the neck of one of the guards that was escorting his group. The rest of the inmates followed his lead and shortly after, the mess of bodies and noise induced him in a euphoric state ha hadn't been in a while.

He helped for a bit to take out some guards for the sake of it until he was stopped by the hand of another inmate.

"We need hostages."

Nam-gyu stopped in his tracks, remembering that all of this was part of a bigger plan of some of the leaders of the prison to bargain about the denial of resources and some medical negligence, though he didn't doubt that a few people would use the riot to escape. Like him.

He left the scene as quick as possible, he knew for certain where he had to go first. He sped up his pace to your office and opened the door carefully. The silence of the room contrasted with the loud sound of the mess outside, but he was sure he could hear a faint breathing inside. He closed the door making sure to lock it behind him and looked around with his weapon visibly on his hand. He walked slowly to the desk where he heard the breathes become more rapid and anxious.

He called you by your name, without missing the title, as to show respect even in a situation like this. A little sob escaped your mouth and now he exhaled of relief as he peeked through the desk to look at you. He thought you looked strangely cute with your cheeks wet and sweat all over every bit of skin visible on your outfit. He couldn't think of any other person he'd swoon over looking like that.

"I'm not going to hurt you."

Your trembling hand tried to reach the pocket of your cardigan, which didn't go unnoticed by him. With a frown he used his force to take you off the floor and bring you to your feet in front of him.

"What are you doing?"

No coherent response came out of your lips but begs and prayers.

"I'm so sorry, please don't hurt me."

He was undoubtedly getting annoyed by your reaction, not expecting you to be so apprehensive of him.

"Why would I?" Nam-gyu grabbed your wrist with a little too much force than he probably should. "You think I'm like those out there?"

He pointed outside with disdain and venom, if not jealousy, covered his words. You looked at his weapon, which was as covered in blood as his clothes and skin. Bringing up a hand to his face you took some blood off his cheek, which made his breath hitch. You showed him your fingers now covered in blood too.

"You think I killed someone?" he asked with feigned disbelief. "I had to get some people off my back on the way here, there was no other way. Nothing serious though."

She seemed still doubtful of his words but she chose to believe him for her own good.

"I came here as soon as I could to make sure you were okay." The strong hold on your wrist became a soft caress of your arm. He even dared to put his forehead against yours to soothe you.

"Thank you-" it came out as a whisper. "Nam-gyu."

His heart jumped at you addressing his name, feeling that the situation was finally under his control.

Choosing to ignore the mess outside for a while and give in to his impulses he pushed you gently against the desk, enough to force you to sit on it.

You gulped down nervously, trying to figure out how to get out of this situation. Being on his good side was obviously the best decision here but you didn't know how much you could handle. You weren't expecting Nam-gyu to come here in this moment out of all people, but you'd be lying to yourself if you didn't notice the way he stared at you during his check ups and how he requested your assistance more than any other inmate. You should've stopped this months ago, but who knows who would've come to this office with different intentions if it wasn't him. Maybe you'd be dead.

"I need you to get me out of here." He muttered caressing your thighs through the thin material of your clothes. You cursed your decision of coming with a skirt and some thighs, but how could have you guessed this was going to happen.

"I don't know how"

He laughed briefly and brought your body roughly to his, forcing your legs open. Seriousness covered his face, making your heart race again.

"You have five minutes to think about it" he hovered over and whispered in your ear. "I'm sure you won't make me regret helping you."

Holding back the urge to cry you started to think how on earth you could help a prisoner break out of this facility. While this place is understaffed and away from the city, you're sure help will come any time soon. Right?

Your train of thought came to a halt as you felt his lips on your neck. You had to stop the moan that threatened to leave your lips at the suddenness of the action to remind yourself of the pathetic situation you're in right now. Intense guilt spreadt through your heart when you found yourself enjoying the way his hands were caressing your inner thighs making little circles while he placed soft kisses down your neck.

"Four" he whispered over a wet spot on your neck, giving you chills.

Convincing yourself that your reactions were outside your control, you focused on planning the exit again.

Maybe in the trunk of my car?

His blood stained hand touched your skin under your cardigan and you whined, getting a little laugh out of him.

If the cops aren't outside yet I can get him in my car...

"Are all the guards inside?" you managed to say with the most stable tone he allowed you to have.

He groaned against your skin. "How would I know, doc?"

You gritted your teeth and kept thinking. He kept counting down out loud whenever he wasn't torturing you tracing every bit of your skin.

"Fifty seconds."

Your eyes widened when you felt his fingertips against the most sensitive part of your body. You weren't able to focus at the task in hand no matter how much you tried anymore to distance yourself from the situation. He traced circles through the piece of clothes between you two and you had to fight with every fiber of your soul to not push your crotch against his hand.

"Thirty..."

You started to try to struggle out of his hold but he held you firmly. You didn't think he had it in him. You could only hold his wrist to push his hand away.

"You don't want this, pretty thing?" he whispered, poorly masking the eagerness of his voice. "I'm sure you do. I know you do."

His movements became faster and so did your breathing. You couldn't even hear the noise outside anymore, only his breathing and your own heart.

"I'm sure that pretty pussy feels so much better without all this." He pinched the thighs against your crotch, making you yelp. "That's why you have to get me out of here, pretty. Time's up."

He moved his hand away and you had to hold back a whimper at the loss. You felt a wave of shame and guilt that you had to repress due to the urgency of the situation you were in. You also felt the embarrassingly wet spot in your panties that you're sure he couldn't have noticed through the thighs.

"We can only try to get you out in my car, but I don't know how safe that is, I don't know how many guards are outside or if they'll check my trunk-"

He stopped your babbling with a little peck on your lips and a little smile.

"Let's see."

[callsign-rogueone]

you called - b.s.

Brennan Sorrengail x reader You're captured by gryphon fliers while out alone on patrol, but Brennan comes to your rescue. [request] words: 1.7k 🏷: no book spoilers, as this occurs years before Fourth Wing, soon after Bren graduated from Basgiath. gender neutral reader in an established romantic relationship with Brennan. brief / vague descriptions of interrogation, torture, and inhumane treatment of reader by fliers, but Bren mends you and takes care of you (lots of cuddles). your dragon is mated to Marbh. her name is Fuir, a shortened form of the word for "alive" since Marbh means "dead". you sleep in Bren's shirt but there's no description of how it fits on you. wrote this in an hour and didn't edit so be nice pls

It’s easy enough to find the cell block. You’re the only prisoner there, with just one guard posted outside that Brennan makes quick work of, taking the keys from his belt to unlock the door.

He kneels down by your side, comforted by the rise and fall of your chest -- he’d known that you were still alive, because he is, as are Fuir and Marbh, but the visual confirmation is soothing.

He wraps a hand around your wrist to block the pain, using the other to start mending your wounds. Whoever had been interrogating you must have had a very short temper; your temples are bloodied, a few of your ribs bruised or broken, several small cuts dotting the exposed skin of your arms -- they’d taken your flight jacket, as a trophy.

He burns with anger, but forces himself to focus on the good, the fact that you’re still alive in front of him, that he’d found you before it was too late.

You finally open those pretty eyes, struggling to focus your gaze on him, but you put it together quickly enough. “Bren,” you murmur, delirious, “you came.”

“You called,” he answers simply, still working on mending your wounds.

It takes you a moment to work through the thick fog of what is definitely a concussion, but you realize he must have heard your desperate cries for help down the bond and came to find you; your plan worked.

You’d wanted to give up hope after the first day, but accepting your death meant accepting Brennan’s as well, and you couldn’t let him die like that, so you persevered. You’d forced yourself to eat what meager portions of food they’d given you, to drink the foul-tasting water and sleep as much as you could, to keep yourself alive.

Whenever they left you alone, you’d tried to reach for Fuir, for Brennan and Marbh, for your magic, getting no responses. After two days, you realized that they must have put a power-dampener in that water, like the one the professors had dosed you with before RSC to disconnect you from your dragons. So you’d stopped drinking it, pouring it out instead to make it look like you had -- and that night, you’d finally felt that little red string connecting you to Fuir, and the shimmering orange one that leads you to Brennan and Marbh. 

You’d cried in relief, trying to reach out to them, but your words had quickly turned to screams of pain as the officer returned to try to get information out of you again. They must have figured out your scheme, because the beating was the worst that day -- they’d hardly ever left you alone, giving you less than an hour between rounds of questioning.

You close your eyes again, realizing that this is probably a dream, a hallucination brought on by days of isolation in this dark room with only enough food and water to keep you alive. You aren’t really aware of how long it’s been. There’s no sunlight down here, and they haven’t been feeding you on a regular schedule, so you couldn’t keep track by counting the meals, either.

“I thought Navarre didn’t bother with extractions,” you mumble. 

“They don’t. So I might be court-martialed when we get back, but I don’t care. I couldn’t leave you here.”

“M’sorry,” you murmur. “Shouldn’t have gone off on my own. Thank you for finding me.”

“Don’t apologize, love. And I’ll always find you,” he promises, stroking your hair. “We’re tied together, aren’t we?”

You manage a soft laugh that quickly turns into a cough, your throat dry and raw from the screaming and from days without much water.

He decides he’s mended you enough for now -- you should be able to move now without injuring yourself further, and you really need to get out of here. “Up you get,” he coaxes, hooking an arm around your waist and helping you up from the floor.

Someone is waiting for you in the hallway -- someone dressed in black. A rider.  “Nao?” you ask, blinking at him. You really must be hallucinating.

The older rider smiles at you. “Hi, kid. Good to see you in one piece.” He turns to Brennan. “There’s two guards at each exit. We can take them, but they’ll probably sound an alarm.”

The two men continue to strategize, and you try to follow along, but most of the words go in one ear and out the other. You settle for leaning against Brennan and trying to stay awake.

“Hello, sweet one,” Fuir says gently, and you nearly cry at the familiar voice back in your head after days of isolation.

“Hi,” you respond in a whisper.

Brennan and Naolin have agreed on a plan, and you follow them closely, staying by Brennan’s side as they lead you out of the compound. Naolin makes quick work of both of the guards, knocking them out easily, and you slip past the treeline into the forest.

It’s freezing outside, literally -- your boots make tracks through the half-inch of snow on the ground that continues to fall gently, tiny flakes drifting through the air and coating everything in a thin layer of white.

You rub your hands over your arms, trying to keep warm. Brennan drapes his cloak over your shoulders, and you burrow into it, happy to be wrapped in the warmth and softness of the fur-collared fabric and the comforting smell of your partner. 

You finally spot Fuir -- she looks a little worse for wear, too, cuddled up with Marbh, who is licking her wounds like an oversized cat. Cute.

“Can you still make it home?” you ask, concerned.

She sounds slightly offended. “Of course I can. It’s you I’m worried about.”

She lays down, making it easier for you to climb up her leg. As you settle into your seat, you can feel invisible bands of magic keeping you in place -- you breathe a sigh of relief that you won’t have to worry about keeping your seat as you pass over the mountain range. You have no idea how long of a flight it’s going to be, but you don’t think you could handle more than a few minutes in the saddle.

“Now would be an excellent time to leave!” Naolin shouts from his perch on the back of Tairn’s neck.

You turn your head, seeing three gryphons closing in from your right. Shit.

“We’ll be fine,” she soothes. “If we get high enough, they won’t be able to follow us.”

You shut your eyes tightly as the cold wind hits your cheeks, making your eyes water -- they’d taken your goggles too, and all your knives, everything except your base layer of clothing. She raises her head, blocking the worst of it, tightening up her formation with Tairn and Marbh, letting each of them protect you from one side.

“I think we lost them,” Brennan tells you through the bond, and you breathe a sigh of relief. 

Fuir adjusts the invisible ties keeping you seated, guiding you forward to lean against the back of her neck. “Rest. It’s another hour to get home.”

You hum in reply, pulling Brennan’s cloak tighter around your shoulders and relaxing into her. She feels warmer than usual, likely because you’re freezing cold.

You wake to the feeling of the wind dying down, and her wings stilling as she lands.

She settles down into the snowy grass, letting you climb down slowly. 

Brennan is waiting on the ground to help you, gathering you into his arms. “Let’s get you to the infirmary,” he coaxes.

You shake your head no. “Want you to do it,” you say quietly. 

He caves easily, leading you to his room, keeping you tucked into his side with a strong arm around your waist. Nobody questions it or stops you on the way up, your bloodied appearance perfectly normal for a rider.

He settles you into his desk chair, starting to mend the smaller cuts and bruises that he hadn’t gotten to earlier. The warmth of his hands and the feeling of the aching pain subsiding relaxes you, your eyes falling shut.

“You think you can shower?” he asks gently.

You nod. You don’t want to get up, but you do feel absolutely disgusting after the last four days, and a shower is definitely in order. Two showers, probably. 

You follow him into the en-suite bathroom, going through the motions without thought -- washing the blood from your skin, scrubbing off the dirt and making an attempt at washing your hair. Brennan stands by your side, showering himself in near-silence, washing off the day. 

He wraps you in a warm towel, letting you rest against him for a moment. “You should eat something,” he says gently.

You burrow deeper into him in protest. “Later,” you murmur. You just want to sleep. It’s late, nearing lights-out anyway, and you need to rest up for the inevitable scolding you’re going to get tomorrow morning.

“Do you want one of your shirts, or mine?” he asks.

“Yours, please,” you answer quietly; his clothes are always more comfortable, more comforting to you, and you could use that extra layer of his presence right now. You finish drying yourself off, letting him slip one of his black tunics over your head and wiggling your arms into the sleeves.

He pulls the covers back, motioning for you to climb into bed with him. The softness of the mattress underneath you and the feel of warm, clean blankets against your skin after three days of sleeping on a dirty stone floor is overwhelming. You finally start to cry, tears slipping down your cheeks.

“You’re safe, my love,” he soothes, holding you close. “You’re home, with me.”

“I know,” you whisper, trying to steady your breathing. “I know, I just…”

He shushes you softly. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. Just know that I love you, and that I will never let anything like that happen to you again.”

You nod against his shoulder. “Love you too,” you sniff. “Thank you for finding me.”

He presses a kiss to your temple. “I will always find you.”

You relax into him, comforted by the warmth of his body against yours, the muscled arms wrapped around you and the smell of his cologne that lingers on the sheets. This is the safest place in the world, right here -- not Navarre, not the fortress, but this room, this bed, because Brennan is in it, holding you.

“Get some sleep,” he encourages. “I’ll be right here with you.”

You hum in reply, nuzzling your cheek into his chest and letting the steady beat of his heart lull you to sleep.

[yanderes-galore]

Hi, could you please do a yandere platonic darth vader? Thank you!

I can try, sure! If something is OOC, I'm so sorry, I still struggle writing Vader.

Yandere! Platonic! Darth Vader Concept

Pairing: Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Kidnapping, Isolation, Brainwashing, Overprotective behavior, Violence, Murder, Forced companionship.

Vader, or even Anakin, would not be the best father.

If things didn't go wrong, he'd probably be loving to his kids.

Yet at the same time, he'd just make an action at some point to poison that bond.

Vader was under the impression his wife and child died.

Which made him who he is now.

In reality, he had three.

Luke, Leia, and you.

He never found out about any of you until much later.

I think it would be an interesting idea if you took a different path than Luke and Leia.

Like, maybe you went to help them during the Death Star and had no idea they were your siblings. (You could just have been raised beside Leia as a childhood friend or something or found them later)

Unfortunately, however, you end up being taken captive by Vader.

Which leads to Vader finding out you're his kid...

Which begins the obsession.

I'm assuming he knew you were his kid via looks and feeling drawn to you (The Force).

So, as OOC as this may be, imagine this...

Vader decides to keep you alive instead of executing you in order to "parent" you.

You hate him yet Vader feels you're a second chance.

This is before he even knew Luke was his kid.

I imagine it would be similar to when Vader said he could convert Luke to the Dark Side.

To protect your life, he'd tell Palpatine you could be useful in tracking Rebels.

Granted, you aren't going to like his plans...

But as a prisoner, your say doesn't matter much.

It would be even more interesting if you were capable of The Force, too.

Vader might've made you either an apprentice or had you help him in other ways if you were.

It's a hard pill to swallow when you learn the real reason Vader took you in.

He's your father.

Even then, you still struggle to play nice.

Knowing he's your father makes you feel sick.

He's never too affectionate, like he's unsure how to approach you.

Yet he teaches you and garners your obedience through manipulation and fear.

He's a quiet man, the only way you know of his presence is his breathing.

He doesn't expect you to like him, even after the truth.

He doesn't expect mutual love, either.

You make him conflicted... reminding him of his one true love.

Again, you may not care for him, but Vader shows he "cares".

He finds time to train you, he gives you Stormtroopers, he protects you.

He does strange little things that one could consider caring or attentive...

Yet you're so separated from one another that it doesn't mean anything to you.

Vader may view giving you guards as protecting you, but to you they're just wardens.

If Vader could ever will himself to say he loves you, it means nothing to you.

He's not a father to you.

Even if he tried he simply couldn't be.

Vader would end up brainwashing you as his captive.

He does everything he can to make you forget the Rebels.

He may not even tell you about your siblings, just to make it seem like he's your only familial connection.

Eventually you don't have to be kept as a prisoner.

He constantly gives you the option to be something more if you just listen.

He does his best to convince you he cares.

You're the closest thing he has to what could've been.

Luke and Leia want him dead.

Yet he's messed with you enough to confuse you.

Eventually, well, what other choice do you have besides joining him?

He's your father, he cares about you...

By now, he's all you have.

He'll train you to hunt Rebels, to be on his side.

He defends you from Palpatine, keeping you under his wing.

He's not afraid to kill, for both his cause and you.

If he killed in your name, he justifies it.

He tells you it had to happen.

You've seen him kill rebels, friends, those you considered family...

And he tells you it's necessary.

You aren't like them.

Rebels are not the good guys, you belong beside your father.

He'll ensure you know that.

He'll make sure you never stray from him.

That alone is another motivation for him to sear through the flesh of another Rebel with his saber, glancing back to make sure you watch.

You'll never leave his side.

Even if he has to lock you away, it's to ensure you stay with him.

So he never loses another one he loves.

Vader himself knows he's not a good man.

Let alone a good father.

Yet you both know he's your father...

There's no one else you can go to now that he has you.

[castielscaplan]

Embracing Solitude (Crowley SPN)

Summary: you visit Crowley while he's locked up in the bunker.

Warnings: fluff? S9

WC: 1.1K

Read on ao3!

Crowley’s chains rattled, the sound echoing through the cold silence of the bunker. He leaned back against the stone wall, his sharp eyes trained on the steel door, waiting. It had been days—maybe weeks, he couldn’t remember anymore. Time lost all meaning when you were locked away, alone, in this place without a single hint of communication from others. The Winchesters, ever the cautious bunch, had left him there again, their trust barely more than a passing joke, like everything else they did to him.

But there was you. You were different.

The first time you had come, Crowley had expected the usual mockery. The others would send you—some innocent bystander, probably—just to taunt him. To throw salt in the wound, as it were. But you hadn’t. You’d shown up with something simple—books. A few mundane things to occupy your time, a smile, and a glance that made him wonder if you really were one of them.

“What are you doing here?” He had sneered at you, though it was far from his usual biting sarcasm.

“I’m bored,” you had said, shrugging as you sat across from him. “And it’s more interesting here than in the library with Sam. Or dealing with Dean's drinking habits.”

That had been the start. The first of many days where you would come and sit with him, talking—about books, about your life, about whatever seemed to pass the time. You were never afraid. Never repelled by the demon in chains, the one who had once ruled Hell, now relegated to a prison cell. The Winchesters had their reasons for locking him up, for keeping him contained. But you... you were the one who still cared to show up. You were the one who didn’t make him feel like a forgotten relic... It was almost as though you mattered to him, in a sense.

At first, Crowley had kept his distance. He'd tried his best to hide the growing attachment, to mask it behind his usual mask of sarcasm and arrogance. He wasn’t one for bonding, not when you’d spent centuries betraying and manipulating. But somehow, with you, it was different. You were the only one who saw beyond the demon he was. You didn’t look at him with distrust, didn’t react to him like a threat.

He had once mocked you for reading him books, and yet now, he cherished those moments. There were even times when he found himself waiting for you, eyes flicking to the door, willing it to open. Sometimes he wondered what he was hoping for. Another conversation? Another hour of companionship? Or was it something deeper?

You came again that day, your soft footsteps echoing in the corridor outside his cell. Crowley, ever the observer, sat up a little straighter, his eyes fixed on the door. When you stepped into view, holding a new book, he couldn’t help but offer you a small, almost hesitant smile.

“Got something new for me, love?” he asked, his voice smooth, though there was an undercurrent of something he couldn’t quite name.

You grinned back, a spark in your eyes. “A book on the history of Hell. I figured you might appreciate it.”

His heart skipped a beat, and he cursed himself for it. You handed him the book, your fingers brushing his. The light touch lingered for a second longer than necessary, and Crowley quickly looked down at the book in his hands, unwilling to meet your gaze.

"You know, you could just ask them to release me," he said, though there was no real venom behind the words. "I’m sure there’s a far more comfortable way for me to spend my time."

You sat across from him, that same calm, gentle smile on your lips. "Maybe. But I think you’re better off in here. Keeps you from making trouble.”

“Ha, yes,” Crowley chuckled darkly, flicking through the pages of the book. “I suppose you’re right. No one else would come to visit me if they thought I was out and about.”

There was a pause between you, one filled with understanding. He wasn’t used to that—being understood. But here, in the quiet of the bunker jail cell, he felt it more and more with you. It was a dangerous thing for someone like him to feel.

"You should come with me sometime," you said, surprising him. "The world isn’t all bad. There’s still a lot of beauty out there. You’ve been trapped here for too long. There's this river I like to go to after hunts and sit and think."

Crowley’s gaze lifted to meet yours, and for a moment, the mask of indifference slipped. He was vulnerable now, more than he ever let on. Your compassion had chipped away at his walls. And that scared him.

"I’ve been in Hell for centuries," he said softly, his voice betraying a hint of something raw. "What could the world offer me that I haven't already seen?"

"You’ve never seen it with someone who cares," you replied simply, your gaze unwavering. "Maybe that’s what you need."

Crowley didn’t know what to say to that. He wasn’t used to hearing words like that. Not directed at him. Not from someone who wasn’t trying to manipulate or use him for some purpose. He swallowed hard, feeling an unfamiliar lump in his throat.

“Maybe,” he finally muttered. “Maybe I’ve been alone for so long that I’ve forgotten what it feels like.”

You leaned forward, your gaze softening. “I’m here,” you said, and the sincerity in your voice left him speechless. You didn’t need to say more. In that moment, he understood.

You were here because you cared, and that small, fleeting truth was enough to make the walls of his heart crack just a little bit more.

Crowley let out a long breath, setting the book aside. His eyes were locked with yours now, something unreadable swimming in their depths. He had never been good at showing affection, never good at trusting others with his vulnerability, but here you were, and he couldn’t bring himself to look away.

"You’ve got a lot of faith in me, don’t you?" he asked, his voice softer than it had been in ages.

“Maybe,” you said, a small smile tugging at your lips. “But I believe everyone deserves a second chance. Even demons.... Even the scary King of Hell.”

There it was again. That damn warmth. Crowley wanted to pull away, to shut it down before it could grow, but something inside him rebelled. Maybe he didn’t want to shut it down. Maybe he wanted more of it.

“You’re a strange one,” he murmured, leaning back against the wall again. “But I think I’ll keep you around.”

And with that, he allowed himself to rest in the strange, delicate comfort of your presence, knowing that for the first time in a long while, he wasn’t truly alone.

--

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[deansapplepie]

You couldn’t lose each other

Summary: You were pregnant, then you weren’t.

Warnings: ANGST, pregnancy, miscarriage, mention of character death, mention of “putting someone down”, soft Merle, on purpose asshole Daryl, blood, hurt, mental instability, hurt, stubborn main characters, loss, grief, and maybe more. 18+, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

A/N: I never experienced miscarriage and am writing everything based on my knowledge through series, movies, soap operas and books, so it may have inaccuracies. If you are sensible to any of those topics please don’t read, your mental health is more important!

It had started about a week ago, heavy dizziness and morning sickness (which didn’t happen exactly only in the morning). On top of that your period was late, which you tried to atribute to the sub nutrition all of you went through while on the road, but as soon as other symptoms started… you knew it was probably other thing.

You went on a run with Daryl to get more baby formula for Jude and just discreetly added a pregnancy test on your backpack, in a part you hoped Daryl wouldn’t look because he never did. As soon as you got to the prison and had some alone time you risked yourself going somewhere, no one would see you or find you, to pee on the damn thing and find the truth. The truth was… you knew it, you didn’t need a test, you were undoubtedly and very much pregnant.

One end of afternoon, Merle sat by your side and didn’t bother to tip toe around you. “When are ya gonna tell ‘im?”

“What?” He took you back with his question.

“When are ya telling my brother ya’re with his baby?” Your eyes widened at his question. “Daryl ain’t the only one with observation skills. Who ya think taught him everything? I saw the symptoms and the pregnancy test you hid on your pocket the other day.”

“Fuck you Dixons.”

“Ya already do it to one of us.” He sassy replied, you rolled your eyes as usually happened during your banters.

“Soon. I’m just waiting the whole governor thing end. He already has too much to worry about, he’ll freak out if I tell him now. He’ll probably put me on bubble of safety and not let me do anything.” You stated, Daryl could have the rough exterior but both of you knew how he was, how he cared about people. Also he had changed so much the last months, and it was for the better. “Don’t tell him, let me do it.”

“Al’ight.” He surprised you, you had learned how to deal with Merle, but he wasn’t the same asshole as before. Still an asshole though. “It’ll be good have a mini Dixon around. I’ll help to keep ya’ll safe.”

“I know, you can be a jerk sometimes but I know you care about your family.” You gave the older Dixon a small smile and squeezed his hand to reassure him. That had been one of the nicest things he ever told you and coming from Merle, that was a lot.

The governor had asked for Michonne to leave your group alone, you didn’t believe a word of it it, but Merle did or at least he had to try. That morning he disappeared with her and all of you knew what he was up to. Daryl went after them, you wanted to go too but of course he wouldn’t “allow” you.

Some time after, Michonne arrived, alone. You asked about Merle and Daryl, and she told everything that happened with Merle. He had set her free and went by himself. It wouldn’t end up well, you could feel it in your guts, and your feeling just confirmed to be true when Daryl arrived alone.

Everyone gathered around him to know what happened and he told you with teary eyes. The others left to give both of you some time.

“Daryl, I’m sorry.” You said, both of your hands cupping his face, he averted your eyes. “Hey, look at me.”

“Leave me alone…” he grumply answered trying to get out of your grasp.

“We’re together in this, huh? I’m here for you, we both cared about Merle.” He snorted.

“Ya cared about Merle? Ya never liked him!”

That wasn’t true, he knew it wasn’t. He was hurt, he had to put his brother down, there wasn’t anyone else that could do it for him, even if there was… it had to be him. Somehow, in his abused mind, he thought it was all his fault. Merle died because he wanted to be a better person, he wanted to protect his little brother as much as he could in this fucked up world, and that was the way he found to do it. It was just a matter of time for you to do the same and it would be entirely his fault if you ended like Merle. You were the last thing he had from the old world. You were the only good thing he had, and if he had to push you away to keep you alive, that was what he was going to do, because he couldn’t afford living in a world without you.

“This isn’t true, Daryl. You’re hurting, I get it…” he cut your speaking before you could finish.

“Ya don’t. Ya never will!” He distanced himself when you tried to touch his arm. “We should break up.”

“What?!”

“Ya heard it.” He confirmed.

“Ok, when you’re not speaking no sense we can talk, I know you’re not ok, but there’s a limit of shit I can take.” You wouldn’t continue to insist on it if he was going to continue acting like that. You knew he was suffering, but so were you and he was being a prick.

“There ain’t gonna be another talk. I said what I said.” Those words left his mouth as if they were nothing, but each of them felt like a knife in his throat.

“Is it really the moment for you to dump me?” You knew he was emotionally unstable, no one make good decisions like this.

“Did I stutter?” The moment he threw the harsh words, he knew he had got what he wanted, the hurt in your eyes pained in his chest and this time he was sure he had lost you for good.

Since that day, you didn’t talk to him and he also ignored you. You asked Rick to not put you both working together anymore. You moved your things to Carol’s cell, now also your cell. Woodbury had fallen, now the survivors of the town had joined you at the prison.

Your little secret was still yours, or sort of… Carol was a mother. She went through all the shit you were going through, all of you saw Lori going through it. She knew it already, but didn’t tell you anything until one week after everything that happened.

She asked you, “aren’t you telling him?”

This time you didn’t even got surprised and already knew what she was talking about. “No.”

“And when it starts to show?”

“I’ll tell I just fucked someone and was too drunk to remember.” You stubbornly replied.

“You’re being childish, he deserves to know.” She was right, but you were tired and emotionally damaged already.

“ ‘cause he’s being a fucking kid too. I get it, he’s suffering, but he needs to stop hurting people every time he’s hurt. It’s time he grows up and man up.” You said arms crossed.

“You know his past better than I, I thought you from all the people would understand.” The older woman wisely said.

“Carol, I appreciate your concern, he’s your friend too, but you don’t understand.” You said, was it you? Was it the hormones? You couldn’t know. “Please, don’t tell him. It’s not your place to do it.”

“I won’t. You’re the one that should do it.” As soon as she answered, she left you alone.

One week later, or a little more, it seemed like Rick had forgotten his promise that he wouldn’t put you ti work with Daryl as he put both of you on fence duty to kill the walkers. Ok, there were more people with you, but you couldn’t help but feel yourself being watched and you knew the weight of his stare. You could feel it in your soul. Also, you couldn’t help yourself and from time to time look at him, because you would be a liar if you said you didn’t love him anymore or that you didn’t find him handsome and attractive, and what’s beautiful was made to look at.

It was middle of the morning, even though it was starting to get cold the sun was strong for whoever was working under it. You had sweat and few stains of blood from the walkers you had killed through the fence. You were feeling extra tired, you thought it was because pregnant women got more sleepy, so you didn’t think about it so much.

Some minutes after you felt a sharp pain on your lower stomach. Weird. ‘Please let it just be a stomachache or gases’, you thought.

You continued working then you felt the pain in the same place but sharper. ‘Please, don’t let it be anything with my baby’, you thought again.

You kept doing your job, this time more slowly as you felt the pain irradiating through your body, until you felt a stabbing pain in the same place and something hot going down your legs. You looked down and saw blood. “NO!”

You shouted and that called people’s attention Daryl’s specially. He looked at you and all he could see was blood. Did you hurt yourself with the weapon? Did the governor came back and wounded you? Did somehow a walker managed to bite you?

“Nooo-hooo-ooo.” You shouted cried throwing yourself to the ground.

In seconds he was kneeling by your side. “Hey, hey, look at me. What is it? What happened, doll?”

“I lost it.” You said, crying more at your realization. “I lost it.”

“What did ya lose, babe?” He asked, he thought you were delirious due to the blood loss. His hands around your face trying to make you look at him, trying to ground you. He was panicking, where were you hurt? Was he going to loose you anyway and he had spent the last weeks loosing his time with you?

You cried. “Our baby, I lost our baby.” You said between sobs.

It hit him like a punch on his stomach. You said your baby, a baby from both of you, a baby he didn’t know existed, a baby that… his abused mind played with him again. A baby that could be possibly gone because of him. “Stay with me, love. I’m taking care of you.” Who were you? Just you? You and the baby? Was there any chance this was a weird bleeding but the baby would still be ok? He didn’t know. He knew nothing about it.

He didn’t think twice, he took you in his arms and started running. “HERSHEL!” He yelled the doctor’s name again and again, until he found him and had you in the infirmary.

Before getting to the infirmary you had passed out, maybe it was the shock or it could also be the blood loss, you’d never know.

Hershel examined you. Daryl stayed all the time by your side, making questions to the doctor. Teary eyes while he explained everything. You were indeed pregnant, and yes, you had lost the baby. Daryl’s hopes were shattered at pieces, he cried. He the big rough man that didn’t like to show his emotions cried, it was Hershel. He was a friend. He was family after all.

After making sure nothing had stayed in your uterus, the old man had a talk with the younger one. Hershel made sure Daryl knew it wasn’t his fault, at this point he already knew the archer well and knew he was guilting himself for it. He ensured it was something that could happen at this early stage, you were at the maximum 2 months pregnant according to the tissue your body expelled from you. That small tissue was what would be your baby. The feeding poor in nutrients could have harmed your body, it was pretty much a disorder in your uterus so that happened. There was no one to blame, besides the end of the world.

Some time had passed when you woke up, you were as much as clean as they could got you and you had warm feeling on your right hand. You looked to your side and you saw Daryl worried and guilty eyes.

“It’s not your fault.” You said. You remembered everything.

“Maybe.” He said, even if Hershel had already reassured him. “But it doesn’t make it less worse. I could have lived it with ya for the little time we had.”

“I was the one that didn’t tell you.” You turned to your side and extended your left arm till you were touching his face. “I’m sorry.”

“I AM sorry.” He said giving emphasis to that. “I… I dun know what I was thinking.”

“I know.” You knew he was lost at that moment, but it didn’t hurt you less when he pushed you away and both of you needed each other. “Merle wasn’t your fault. The baby neither.”

At the mention of Merle’s name and the baby, your voice quivered and the tears threatened to leave your eyes, and they did. They fell from your eyes and you couldn’t do anything about it. “I ain’t pushing ya away anymore. I… I was so afraid of losing ya too.” Tears also slipped on his face.

“Merle was happy, he knew he was going to be an uncle.” You remembered the conversation you had with him the day before he sacrificed himself. “He noticed it and asked me about it. I was going to tell you when the governor shit was over.”

You also felt guilty about Merle’s death. You knew sometimes he didn’t take some smart decisions, but did he tried to face it all alone because he also wanted to be a better person to his nephew or niece? He had told you he would protect all of you.

You sobbed. You both cried together, now your arms thrown around his neck and your face hiding in it. You both had lost too much already, you couldn’t afford losing anything else. You couldn’t lose each other.

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