#but holy moly this one got crunched

[abby-wolf]

Free adopt! Was just doodling in D&D and this came to be, so if you want it, gimme a name + backstory and this SkyWing is yours!

taken!

[kanaria-a]

YOU ARE SUCH A FAST WORKER holy moly?! Hello, 🛸 anon again, and i giggled out loud when I saw your post about idia! Truth be told, I was tossing and turning during my sleep because I was so excited on what you come up with!! Your words leave me breathless once again! I love how you executed it!! You did my idea justice, even though Im sure you could come up something far more impressive (don’t underestimate yourself). However Im so happy with it!! Im cherishing that forever! (Don’t worry about ortho too. ITS OKAY DONT BE EMBARRASSED! I literally didn’t even notice till I saw the tags). Also I read your post about the sleeping spell with scarabia and I wanted to say how good it was as well!!

Anyways another idea because I was recently getting into media that dealt with fairytales and I thought of a red riding hood inspired story for a yandere jack howl x reader! Now I don’t really know how it would make sense and all of that but I guess you could say the world is centric around the story of Red Riding Hood like there would be beastman (that are mainly wolves) and human. I imagined it to be some sort of world where wolves are known to be violent, malicious creatures that wants to like eat the humans and the human are forced to defend themselves. Im sorry please bear with me with these little crumbs that don’t make sense. So basically it’s like a zombie apocalypse but not exactly (i guess??? I dont know how to explain it, nothings coming up in my brain right now). Okay so like any zombie apocalypse thing or whatever there’s a safe space where the humans lives that is heavily secured but of course that won’t be their only source of defense you also got hunters that represent red riding hood. Now red riding hood could be a hero for killing the wolves or something and inspiring other people to help hunt the wolves (i dont know the more i read the more confusing it gets). So imagine if the hunters were like that and in order to commemorate her legacy, they wear the same little outfit red riding hood has and imagine reader being a hunter and a well respected one at that. Imagine they have a lot of kills under their name and they’re treated like a hero. Okay that’s all I had gotten originally because I got a very small idea on what I wanted but then I couldn’t think of how Jack and reader meet. Maybe Jack found the reader injured and helped her or maybe reader was about to kill Jack but spared him as they realized he meant no harm??? This is like a huge thing I just barfed out and it’s just puzzle pieces that don’t fit together! I don’t really know, if you can’t figure it out thats fine. IF ITS CONFUSING AND YOU GOT ANY QUESTIONS, Ill GADLY ANSWER!!

❝Li-i-ife. E-e-eye.

The forest floor crunched beneath your boots, each step deliberate despite the throbbing pain in your left shoulder. Blood seeped through the torn fabric of your signature red cloak—the mark of a Hunter, worn in honor of the legendary Red Riding Hood who first proved that humans could fight back against the wolf beastmen that plagued your world.

Your silver blade trembled in your grip, its surface still gleaming despite the chaos of your last encounter. Three wolves down, but not without cost. The gash across your shoulder burned like hellfire, and you could hear your own ragged breathing echoing through the silent woods. Just make it back to the settlement, you told yourself. The others are counting on your report. As one of the most decorated Hunters in the colony, failure wasn't an option. Your red hood carried the weight of dozens of confirmed kills, each one a small victory against the savage beasts that threatened humanity's fragile safe haven.

A branch snapped behind you.

You spun around, ignoring the spike of agony in your shoulder, blade raised defensively. Through the shadows emerged a wolf beastman—tall, with distinctive white hair and wolf ears that twitched at your movement. His golden eyes locked onto yours with startling intensity. But he wasn't attacking. He just... stood there, staring. "You," he said, voice rough with emotion you couldn't identify. "You're hurt." Your grip tightened on your weapon. "Stay back." The wolf's ears flattened against his head, and his expression grew troubled. "Those idiots... they actually managed to wound you." His hands clenched into fists. "Unforgivable." "What?" You blinked, confused by his reaction. "My name is Jack," he said, taking a careful step forward. His golden eyes never left your face. "And I need to help you."

"A wolf wanting to help a Hunter?" You let out a bitter laugh. "Right." "I'm serious." His voice carried an edge of desperation that caught you off guard. "You don't understand—you can't die. Not like this. Not when I finally found you." There was something unsettling about the way he said 'finally found you,' as if he'd been searching for you specifically. Your training told you to strike first, ask questions later, but your vision was blurring and your legs felt like they might give out any moment. "Why should I trust you?" Jack's expression grew pained. "Because I've been protecting you." "Protecting me? I don't even know you!" "But I know you." The words came out more intense than he seemed to intend, and he quickly looked away, a flush creeping across his cheeks. "I mean... I've seen you hunt. You're incredible. Strong, skilled, fearless..." His voice dropped to almost a whisper. "Perfect."

Your knees buckled. Jack moved with inhuman speed, catching you before you hit the ground. His arms were strong and warm, but there was something possessive about the way he held you that made your heart race. "Easy," he murmured against your ear. "I've got you. I'll always have you." "Jack..." you started, but he cut you off.

"Those wolves that attacked you—they weren't supposed to touch you. I made it clear that you were off-limits." His voice carried a dangerous edge that sent chills down your spine. "Someone's going to pay for this." "Off-limits? What are you talking about?"

Jack's grip tightened, and when you looked up at his face, there was something wild and desperate in his golden eyes. "I've been watching over you for months. Making sure the hunts weren't too dangerous, eliminating threats before they could reach you, ensuring you always made it home safe." His voice grew rougher. "You're too important to lose."

Horror began to creep in. "You've been manipulating my hunts?" "Protecting you," he corrected firmly. "Do you have any idea how many wolves I've had to... discourage... from going after you? How many times I've had to clean up situations that could have gotten you killed?" "That's not your choice to make!" "Yes, it is." The words exploded out of him with startling ferocity. "You think I can just stand by and watch while you throw yourself into danger? You think I can sleep at night knowing you might not come back?" His voice cracked slightly. "I can't lose you. I won't." You stared at him, trying to process what you were hearing. This wolf—this supposed enemy—had been secretly orchestrating your hunts to keep you safe? It was obsessive, controlling, and completely insane. "I need to get back to the settlement," you said weakly.

"No." The response was immediate and firm. "You're too injured. You'll bleed out before you make it halfway." "Then what do you suggest?" Jack's eyes gleamed with something that made your stomach flutter nervously. "I have a den nearby. Safe, hidden, stocked with medical supplies I've... acquired. I can take care of you there." "Absolutely not." "It's not a request." His tone brooked no argument, and suddenly you were very aware of how much stronger he was than you. "You're hurt because I failed to protect you properly. That makes it my responsibility to fix this."

"Jack, this is kidnapping—" "This is keeping you alive," he interrupted, already lifting you in his arms. "And once you're better, we need to have a serious conversation about your safety protocols. This reckless behavior ends now." As he began walking deeper into the forest, away from your settlement, you realized that your encounter with Jack Howl hadn't just saved your life—it had fundamentally changed everything. Whether you wanted it or not, you now belonged to a wolf who saw your protection as his sacred duty.

And from the determined set of his jaw and the possessive way he held you, it was clear that Jack had no intention of ever letting you go. "Don't worry," he murmured, pressing his face against your hair. "I'll take better care of you from now on. No one will ever hurt you again. I promise." The fierce devotion in his voice should have been comforting. Instead, it terrified you.

stopped posting for a full day to give yall this short nd sloppy bs 🫩??? i really, truly apologize

WILL be redoing this in abt a week or so…cuz what??

Though, i DID lowk need the break 💔

[crossbowking]

Honey & Whiskey

Summary: (Set throughout series) When the world ended, everything good died along with it. At least, that's what Daryl Dixon thought. But then he met a stranger in the woods and his entire world turned upside down.

A/N: HOLY MOLY. I can't believe it's here! I've been working on this story since October and I'm so excited for y'all to finally read it. This story is absolutely my favorite of all time and it's 20,835 words of pure Daryl POV (which is just *chef kiss*) — that being said, it’s also a slow burn...and I mean an entirely self-indulgent SLOWWWW burn. So strap in, y’all.

PSA: There are mentions of 'Dog' in this story that are sort of non-canon, especially now that we've seen a backstory as to how Daryl actually found him in the show...so for the sake of the story, let's just pretend 10.18 doesn't exist :)

Anywho, please be sure to share your thoughts with me afterward!

Happy reading!

xx Jess

Masterlist

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The sun dipped below the horizon, the sky alight with brilliant orange and yellow rays.

Daryl tilted his head back, glancing up at the shifting colors as night drew near. The air was crisp, a welcomed change from the usual summer heat. The streets of Alexandria were fairly empty, most already settling into their respective homes before nightfall. Though the unusual silence was near deafening, the archer paid it no mind.

He appreciated the quiet these days.

The grass poked and prodded beneath where he sat, but he simply shifted, drawing one knee to his chest, the other leg splayed out in front of him. He picked absently at one of the holes in his worn jeans, tugging at the string hanging off the fabric.

And then he thought of her.

Leaves and twigs crunched beneath Daryl’s boots as he traversed through the otherwise silent woods.

The farm was destroyed, winter was approaching, and there seemed to be an ever-looming pang of hunger in the pit of his stomach. He pushed away any inkling of weakness, forging ahead with determined strides. His people were waiting for him, hunkering down in an abandoned diner less than a mile East, hoping he’d bring back something to dull the growing ache inside all of them.

Daryl’s steps faltered — ‘his’ people.

The thought had come so naturally it nearly took him off guard. The feeling of community, of belonging, was something he’d never felt in his entire life. It was a strange notion, but that drive, that need he felt to provide, pushed him further out into the forest.

The archer kept his footsteps light, practically imperceptible, listening for noises only a seasoned hunter could distinguish. When a twig suddenly snapped off to his left, he froze, scanning the stillness around him. He raised his crossbow, the weight familiar in his grasp as he took a small step in the direction the noise had come from.

A moment later, Daryl spotted it — a lone raccoon just a few yards ahead.

The archer felt a rush of adrenaline, a tingling sensation in his fingertips as they hovered over the trigger. He exhaled a soft breath, focusing all his attention on the animal. But with his concentration elsewhere, it wasn’t until after he’d pulled the trigger that he’d realized he was no longer alone in the woods.

Daryl spun around, coming face to face with an incredibly grotesque-looking walker, teeth bared, arms outstretched, launching itself towards him. The archer braced his arm against the biter’s throat just in time, grunting under its weight as he stumbled backward.

“Shit,” he snarled through gritted teeth, tossing his unloaded weapon aside as he fought against the attack. Using his free hand, he reached for the hunting knife secured on his belt, grabbing onto the hilt.

But before he could yank it out, the world began tilting rapidly around him.

Daryl’s back slammed against the harsh wooded ground, his foot tangled up in an exposed root. He spat another vicious curse as the walker thrashed on top of him, snapping its mangled jaw closer and closer, growling in starved desperation.

Then suddenly, it stilled.

The archer froze, his gaze locked on the unexpected sight of one of his arrows now embedded through the biter’s temple. He snapped out of his reverie, shoving the dead off his chest and scrambling back to his feet.

And then he saw her.

She stood just a few feet away, her rapid breathing mirroring his own, looking as though she was seconds away from passing out. Her hair was matted by a mixture of blood and dirt, her clothes were torn and ratted, her wide eyes seemingly too big for her gaunt features. She had a nasty cut across her temple, blood dripping down the side of her face, past her neck, pooling at the collar of her shirt.

Daryl’s eyes bounced back up to meet hers — his guarded and calloused, hers unsure and fatigued.

“I’m assuming — this — is yours?” she spoke between heaving breaths, tossing something in his direction, the motion causing her to sway unsteadily.

Daryl glanced down, spotting the raccoon he’d shot earlier now lying at his feet — but the arrow he’d used to kill it was no longer there.

Now, it was lodged through the skull of the walker that’d attacked him.

The archer focused back on the stranger — but before he could respond, her skin was suddenly paling, her body crumpling to the ground like a paper doll.

Daryl stared down at her unmoving form in bewilderment. He could tell by the shallow rise and fall of her chest that she was at least breathing. The cut on her temple was still bleeding, the wound looking fairly recent — his best guess was a concussion or exhaustion. Most likely both.

He took a small step forward, almost hesitantly. But when his approach didn’t stir the stranger, he found himself facing an unforeseen decision.

He could leave her — he should leave her. She wasn’t his responsibility. She was a complete stranger. She chose to intervene, not him. She made that choice. Not him. Her.

Though as he turned to leave, as he scooped up the limp raccoon and shoved it into his bag, as he grabbed his strewn crossbow and strapped it across his back, one thing became startlingly clear.

He couldn’t do it — he couldn’t just walk away.

Daryl huffed a defeated breath. “Shit.”

He could’ve sworn that day in the woods was an entire lifetime ago.

Rick had nearly lost his damn mind when he’d returned to the diner with not only a small woodland creature in his pack, but a stranger slung over his shoulder.

“Is she dead?” Carl pressed nosily, hovering by the booth where the stranger was now laid out, still unconscious.

Lori quickly intervened, moving forward with one hand on her protruding belly, the other grabbing onto Carl’s shoulder. “Step back, baby. Give Hershel some space to work, okay?” she cautioned, pulling the inquisitive boy away.

“Oh, it’s quite alright — I’m just about done here anyways,” Hershel drawled, setting aside the blood-soaked cloth he’d been using to tend to the stranger’s head wound.

Daryl watched the exchange from across the room, arms folded tight against his chest, ignoring the stares coming from other group members.

The front door of the diner suddenly swung open as Rick marched through. He shot the archer a disapproving look before addressing the others. “I think we’re okay,” he finally spoke, re-holstering his pistol. “If Daryl had been followed here, I’m sure we would’ve known by now. We’ll keep somebody on watch — jus’ as a precaution — an’ get back on the road first thing.”

The archer gnawed on the inside of his cheek as the rest of the group began whispering amongst themselves, clearly distressed about the possible danger his decision may have put them in.

Rick approached a moment later, his steadfast strides immediately setting Daryl on edge. “Can I speak with you?” the sheriff hissed, glancing over his shoulder and locking eyes with Lori’s worried gaze. “In private?” he added in a hushed tone before turning around and storming back outside.

Daryl scoffed under his breath, pushing away from the counter he’d been leaning against and stalking after Rick.

The archer yanked the door open, the cool air biting at his skin as he followed suit. He spotted Rick pacing back and forth across the parking lot, surveying the surrounding woods warily before spinning around and facing him head-on.

“What the hell were you thinkin’?” Rick demanded, taking a step forward.

Daryl fought back the instinctual urge to be on the attack. Instead, he took a breath. “What was I supposed ta’ do, man? Jus’ leave her out there?” he countered, eyes narrowing.

“You don’t bring her here,” the sheriff snapped before pinching the bridge of his nose, attempting to collect himself. “We — we have ta’ look after our own, Daryl — you know that. We have no idea who she is, where she came from, who she’s with,” he specified sharply before shaking his head. “That’s jus' not a risk I’m willin’ ta’ take. Are you?”

Daryl held Rick’s gaze for a long moment before looking away, glancing towards the tree line. The sheriff had a point, he couldn’t deny that. But there was something inside him, a nagging sensation in the pit of his stomach that said otherwise.

Rick slowly nodded, interpreting Daryl’s silence as an answer. “When she wakes, she’s gone,” he finally resolved, stepping past the archer and back towards the diner without another word.

But Daryl couldn’t let it go. “Hey,” he called after Rick, the sheriff’s strides halting mid-pace as he glanced back, the harshness in his features fading, unveiling a man with nothing but the weight of the world on his shoulders. “Back when Carl got shot, if Hershel had turned us away, what’d ya think would’a happened?”

Rick paused before exhaling a long, heavy breath, some of the fight leaving him with it. “That’s not — it’s not the same —”

“It is,” Daryl interjected. “It’s the same damn thing.”

The air grew quiet as Rick’s shoulders sagged, one hand resting against his hip. “My family…” he suddenly murmured, shaking his head sadly. “I can’t risk it.”

Daryl nodded once. “I get it. After everythin’ with Shane an’ Randall, losin’ the farm the way we did, I get it, man,” he rasped, regarding him earnestly. “But m’ tellin’ ya…this’s the wrong call, Rick.”

The diner door suddenly flung open, interrupting the conversation and revealing a flustered-looking Glenn.

“Uh, hey guys,” he interrupted, sending the pair an awkward wave. “Just wanted to let you know that she’s, uh — she’s awake.”

Rick and Daryl shared a look.

“And kinda freaking out,” Glenn quickly tacked on at the end.

Daryl didn’t hesitate. He stormed past Rick and back into the diner, making a beeline towards the small crowd that had gathered around her.

“— okay, it’s okay. We’re not gonna hurt you, sweetheart,” Lori spoke softly, holding her hands out in front of her as though approaching a caged animal.

The archer pushed through the group, spotting the stranger a moment later.

She was still sitting in the booth he’d initially laid her out in — though now she was huddled away from everyone, back pressed up against the wall, knees drawn to her chest in a cowering stance. Her gaze darted frantically around the room, clearly confused and disoriented and overwhelmed.

Daryl couldn’t even begin to understand why, but he felt a wave of outrage course through him.

“C’mon, people. She ain’t a fuckin’ zoo animal,” the archer growled abruptly, taking a defensive stance in front of the booth and motioning for the rest of the group to move back. “Give the girl some damn space.”

The archer waited until everyone stepped away before turning back around and glancing down at the stranger. He was surprised to see her eyes trained on him — even more surprised at the flush of heat that spread across his chest. He held her gaze a second longer before Rick appeared, parting through the crowd like Moses and the Red Sea.

The stranger shrunk away.

Daryl wondered why the sight bothered him so much.

Rick came to a slow halt in front of her. “What’s your name?” he finally asked, his tone measured and firm.

The stranger did another sweep of the room, as though surveying just how much possible danger she was in. But when her eyes flashed up towards the archer once again, some of her unease faded. “Y/N,” she spoke hesitantly.

Rick nodded slowly before extending his arm. “Rick Grimes.”

Y/N looked at the gesture cautiously. Still, she reached out and took his hand in hers.

She appeared composed but Daryl noticed the slight tremble in her grip.

After a brief shake, Rick grabbed an empty chair and sat down at the end of the booth, resting his forearms against the table. “So, Y/N,” he began, giving the archer a look of resolve. “What happened ta’ you?”

The time after the farm fell was foggy, each day blurring into the next, suffocated by a heaviness the unknown inherently brought. But that day, the day he met her, ran stark against the rest.

Y/N had told her story like Rick asked her to do. She spoke of the small group she’d been staying with and the refuge they’d built, ultimately destroyed by the dead. Everybody had scattered — and if they hadn’t…

Any previous hesitancies the group held melted into understanding and sympathy almost immediately.

Daryl had known Y/N would be accepted into the group. Rick had hardened since the farm, but he wasn’t heartless. He wouldn’t be able to turn her away, just as the archer hadn’t been able to leave her out in those woods.

Spending the winter season on the run had been difficult for everyone — constantly running from the dead, cold and bitter nights, supplies growing scarce. The road was unforgiving, proving time and time again how completely fucked this new world was, how things would never return to the way they were, how this was now the new way of life.

Though for Daryl, if he was being honest, it wasn’t all bad — not in comparison to what his old life had given him.

He’d choose a lifetime of running over the stench of whiskey and the sting of belt buckles any day.

The only other person who’d appeared unaffected was Y/N. Besides showcasing a natural skillset in survival, she’d found her place amongst the group with ease — so effortlessly that Daryl hadn’t been able to recall what life looked like before her. She exuded a warmth that people were drawn towards — that the rest of the group clung to during the darkest of days.

But not Daryl.

He’d kept her at a distance, kept her at arm’s length because he refused to let her in as everyone else had.

Little did he know.

Daryl swiped at the beads of sweat dripping down the sides of his face.

The Georgian heat was nearly suffocating, blanketing over his body and setting his skin ablaze. He pushed away the discomfort, bending down and grabbing the ankles of one of the many walkers spread out across the prison’s courtyard. He’d lost track of how many bodies he’d dragged out, his group working tirelessly to clean out their newfound home.

The archer had just pulled the limp body through one of the fences, nearing the pickup truck used for disposal, when he heard someone approach.

“Need a hand?”

Daryl stilled — he glanced up, his eyes locking with Y/N’s, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Her hair was pulled back out of her face, a thin sheen of sweat laid out across her forehead. One hand rested on her hip, the other hovered near her face, blocking the sun rays. The sleeves of her shirt were rolled up past her elbows, streaks of dirt and blood visible against her exposed skin.

He realized then that she was really rather beautiful.

The intrusive thought caught the archer completely off guard. He quickly turned his attention downward, grunting a half-assed ‘nah’ before continuing his trek to the pickup truck, determined to preserve some space between them.

But instead of leaving, as he’d assumed she would, Y/N remained rooted in place.

Daryl faltered, the expression that flickered across her face hinting that maybe she hadn’t come to just ‘lend a helping hand’. She had something on her mind — he could tell by the way she snagged her bottom lip between her teeth, gnawing absently as she shifted her weight back and forth.

The archer dropped his hold from around the walker’s ankles and straightened. “What?” he demanded gruffly, curiosity getting the best of him.

Y/N’s eyes found his as she took a small step forward — Daryl fought back the urge to back up. “I, uh —” she paused, her mouth twisting to the side as though fumbling for the right words. “Just — thank you.”

Daryl’s brow furrowed. “For what?” he huffed.

Y/N’s head cocked to the side, seemingly surprised. “I — I don’t know,” she murmured, a soft, sort of bewildered laugh slipping past her lips. “For bringing me here, for introducing me to your people — for everything, I guess,” she expressed sincerely. “You could’ve just left me out in those woods that day — most people would’ve.”

The archer chewed on the inside of his cheek, feeling incredibly exposed for some strange reason. “Was nothin’,” he finally grunted, ignoring the prickle of heat at the tips of his ears.

“It wasn’t nothing,” Y/N replied indignantly, like she was offended at the notion that he didn’t deserve her gratitude. “You saved my life.”

Daryl shifted uncomfortably, wanting nothing more than for this interaction to be over with — because once that happened, he could go back to maintaining his distance, he could go back to allowing the air between them to be just that. “Figured I owed ya,” he finally mustered, recalling the first day they’d met.

Y/N’s lips curled up into a megawatt smile and Daryl could’ve sworn he’d never seen anything so damn captivating in his entire life. “Okay,” she grinned, sticking her hand out in front of her. “We’ll call it even then.”

The archer glanced down at the gesture before warily reaching forward, taking her hand in his, and shaking once, twice, three times. Her grip was firm and she didn’t seem to mind the grime coating his skin.

When she pulled away, Daryl felt the empty spaces she’d filled set ablaze.

Y/N shot him one last smile before turning around and heading back towards the courtyard. But she’d only made it a few feet when she paused, glancing over her shoulder. “Make sure you eat something, okay?”

She didn’t wait for a response — instead, she narrowed her eyes, shooting him a look in mock-seriousness as if to say ‘I’m watching you’. Then her face broke out into another grin before she sent him a small wave — and she was gone.

Daryl watched her leave, unable to pull his gaze from her retreating form.

He tried to ignore the mess his mind was becoming, littered with confusion and insecurity, the nagging voice that lingered telling him he’d never be good enough, strong enough, brave enough for anything other than what he’d always known.

He wouldn’t let her in — he couldn’t let her in.

But as he bent down, grasping onto either ankle of the walker at his feet, he felt a tingling sensation in his fingertips he swore had everything to do with the Georgian heat and nothing to do with her.

A gentle breeze roused Daryl from his thoughts.

He shifted from where he sat, reaching into the pocket of his jeans for the pack of cigarettes he kept there.

The package was falling apart, half-crushed, half-wrinkled from everyday wear and tear, but the archer slipped one of the few remaining cigarettes out anyway and caught it between his lips.

It hadn’t taken long for him to realize that keeping Y/N at arm’s length was a futile attempt — he’d been naive to think it was possible in the first place.

Before he knew it, she’d wormed her way into the forefronts of his mind and found herself a nice, cozy corner to call home. She’d done it as effortlessly as the blink of an eye or the beat of a heart. It just happened — no rhyme or reason, no explanation or logic. It just happened.

Which made leaving that much harder.

“Daryl!”

The archer ignored Glenn’s shout, marching further into the woods and approaching a snide-looking Merle. “C’mon, bro,” the younger brother grunted, worried if they didn’t leave right then and there, he’d change his mind and return to the prison with the others.

Merle’s booming laugh sounded, drawing Daryl from his thoughts. “Well, I’ll be damned,” the man sneered, tossing an arm around the archer’s shoulders. “Looks like somebody decided ta’ grow himself a big ole’ pair a’ cojones while I was gone,” he snarked, pushing Daryl forward and falling in step beside him.

The archer pressed his lips together, swallowing his retort and focusing ahead.

“Hey, wait up!”

The voice that sounded halted Daryl in his tracks. He spun around, spotting Y/N making her way through the forest, her strides long and determined as she headed straight towards him.

“Well, would ya look a’ that,” Merle quipped under his breath, leering at her approach, his tone sending a swell of aggravation through the younger brother.

“Jus’ gimme a minute,” Daryl quickly waved him off, ignoring the prickle of heat creeping up his neck as he trudged towards her.

Y/N came to a stop in front of him, slightly out of breath, her eyes searching his for a long moment.

She seemed to have something to say, a reason for chasing after him — but it was as though she couldn’t get the words together. She glanced down, shaking her head slowly before taking a deep breath. When she looked back up, Daryl noticed a resignation in her gaze that wasn’t there before.

“Are you sure about this?” she finally asked, her troubled expression sending a pang of guilt through him.

Daryl looked away. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure — he wasn’t sure about anything anymore.

He shifted his weight, focusing back on her. “Ya watch out for yourself, ya hear me?” he rumbled, pushing away the unexpected worry gnawing at him.

Y/N’s shoulders sagged in disappointment, her defeated expression damn near changing his mind altogether. “I will,” she murmured, a bittersweet smile ghosting across her features.

Daryl held her gaze a moment longer before nodding once, turning without another word.

But he’d barely taken a step when he suddenly felt her grab his wrist and twist him back around.

Before he knew what was happening, Y/N was hugging him. She threw her arms around his middle and squeezed tight, leaving Daryl completely and utterly dumbfounded. His arms hung limply at his sides, caught off guard by the surprising gesture. Though as soon as it’d begun, it ended. Y/N unwound herself from around his body and took a step back, a pink tinge to her cheeks he hadn’t noticed earlier.

She whispered a somber goodbye — though Daryl couldn’t hear it over the sound of the blood rushing to his ears — and then she was gone.

The archer fought back the urge to follow, telling himself over and over again that he was making the right decision — he was choosing blood, he was choosing family, he was choosing —

“Hey! Where’s my hug at, sweet cheeks?” Merle’s suddenly hollered, calling after Y/N.

She didn’t look back and Daryl fought back the impulse to start swinging.

But Merle just laughed, the noise loud and boisterous as he sauntered forward. “Damn, lil’ brother. Didn’t think ya had it in ya! I was startin’ ta’ think ya played for the other fuckin’ team’,” he jeered, clapping the archer on the back with more force than necessary.

Daryl’s entire body tensed up, his darkened gaze snapping towards his brother. He noticed then that Merle was also watching Y/N — though his eye line was fixated on one specific part of her body…

“Let’s go,” the archer spat under his breath as he spun around and stormed off, his hands balling into fists.

He had to walk away. Otherwise, he’d lose it — he’d give in to instinct, he’d allow the rage coursing through him to take over, and all of this would’ve been for nothing.

So he took a deep breath, relaxed his clenched fists, and dismissed any lingering thoughts of her.

Daryl scoffed at the memory, an unlit cigarette still caught between his teeth.

He pulled out his lighter and flicked his thumb against the wheel, sparking a small flame before inhaling a deep breath. The familiar taste of nicotine and ash filled his senses as he drew smoke into his lungs, immediately feeling a rush of calm flow through him.

Daryl existed in the quiet, taking another long drag of his cigarette. He pulled his legs towards his chest, resting his elbows atop his knees, letting his hands dangle in front of him. He watched the lit cigarette butt dim and dance between his fingertips, the embers burning off and drifting into the grass.

It’d only taken a single day for the archer to come to his senses — to realize the mistake he’d made in leaving with his brother. And if he was being honest, it’d had nothing to do with Merle. He couldn’t blame his brother because his brother hadn’t changed — his brother was still the same brash, volatile, ill-tempered redneck he’d known his whole life.

No, it was him — he was the one who had changed.

“Would ya slow yer damn roll? I ain’t the athlete I used ta’ be, ya know!” Merle bellowed from somewhere behind Daryl, clearly struggling to keep up with the younger brother’s pace.

But the archer didn’t slow, his strides matching the beat of his pounding heart. He ducked under tree branches and side-stepped exposed roots, the prison growing nearer with each step he took.

It wasn’t until Daryl heard a sudden thud, followed by a viciously snarled curse, that he slowed. He spun around, spotting Merle pushing up off the forest floor.

“Ya good?” Daryl called out, crossing back and reaching down, offering his hand.

But Merle just swatted him away, his expression twisting in contempt as he staggered back to his feet. “Lemme ask ya somethin’,” he growled. “How the hell ya think this’s gonna go, huh? Ya think those assholes are jus’ gonna forget ‘bout everythin’ that happened? Ya think we’re jus’ gonna hug it out an’ sing ‘round the campfire like some kinda damn afternoon special?”

The archer fought back the urge to roll his eyes. “Ya —”

“This ‘bout that skirt from yesterday? Huh? That it?” Merle steamrolled over his attempt to interrupt, taking a step forward, the brothers now toe to toe.

Daryl felt a prickle of heat flush the back of his neck, his chest tightening. Merle was just trying to get a rise out of him — he knew that deep down — but damn, was it working. “It ain’t ‘bout her,” the archer growled defensively, fixing him with a glare. “It’s ‘bout survival, ’bout rebuildin’ — ‘bout tryin’ ta’ make somethin’ outta this shit world. It can’t jus’ be us out here, man — not anymore.”

Merle rolled his eyes. “Oh, c’mon, did Officer Friendly force-feed ya that bullshit?”

Daryl stiffened before huffing a breath and waving his brother off. He turned away, determined to continue his trek back home before it was too late — but he’d only made it a couple of feet when Merle called after him once more.

“It ain’t ever gonna work,” the older brother voiced, his usually brash tone dimming into something surprisingly vulnerable. “It — it jus’ ain’t. Not after everythin’ — not after what I did.”

The archer glanced back, watching Merle’s notorious bravado finally melt away, replaced with something he could’ve sworn looked like guilt. “We ain’t dead yet, man,” Daryl rumbled simply. “Still time ta’ make shit right.”

Merle considered his words for a long moment — but before he could respond, the sound of barraging gunfire exploded through the air.

Daryl’s head snapped in the direction of the noise, feeling his stomach drop when he realized where exactly it was coming from.

He took off into a sprint, Merle’s pounding footsteps echoing directly behind him.

Daryl lied to his brother that day.

In his defense, it hadn’t been deliberate. When Merle had questioned his intentions, alluding to the idea that Y/N was the main reason for his urgency to return home, the archer had denied it.

He hadn’t known it back then, but the truth became startlingly clear once he’d made it back to the prison, marched up the pathway leading to cellblock C, and laid eyes on her.

Daryl found Y/N crouched down beside Axel’s unmoving form, one hand resting on his shoulder.

His steps faltered, feeling as though he was intruding on a private moment — but he couldn’t help himself. The Governor had attacked the prison, his people were shaken, and damn it, he just needed to make sure she was okay.

She stood a moment later, turning to rejoin the rest of the group huddled by the fence, her despondent expression filling his bones with a red-hot rage.

But then her eyes met his.

Y/N’s footsteps stilled, her gaze widening in disbelief as she looked at him. A heartbeat passed between them before Daryl noticed how she was holding herself — hunched over slightly, one hand wrapped around the opposite arm, blood seeping out from between her fingertips.

He crossed to her in three long strides, ignoring the heat that flushed his chest the closer he neared.

Instead, he focused on the wound — that he could deal with, that made sense.

Unlike the unexpected and rapid thrumming of his pulse.

“Daryl,” she breathed in disbelief, her voice thick as though the word had gotten tangled somewhere in her throat.

His name sounded like honey the way it rolled off her tongue.

He shrugged off his crossbow and tossed it aside, wordlessly reaching forward and pulling her hand away from the injury. He examined the laceration carefully — which upon closer inspection appeared to be a gunshot wound — though luckily enough, the bullet seemed to have only grazed the side of her arm.

The archer reached into his back pocket, grabbed the red rag he kept there, and gently pressed it against the wound. “Jus’ keep pressure on it, alright?” he rasped, guiding Y/N’s limp hand to rest over the cloth, stalling the blood flow.

He glanced down at her, doing a slight double-take when he realized she was watching him, a slightly strained smile pulling at her lips. “You came back,” she whispered, her eyes warm despite the blood splattered across her cheek, the pallor in her complexion.

Daryl swallowed the lump in his throat, incredibly aware of how little space remained between them. He managed a stiff nod in response, his voice suddenly lost.

But Y/N’s smile merely grew, like the first hint of sunshine after a devastating storm.

And the tightness in his chest finally faded.

The archer inhaled another long drag from his cigarette, the smoke spilling past his lips and disappearing into the growing night.

Returning to the prison had given Daryl a sense of purpose, a sense of hope — he was back where he belonged and the threat of the Governor just didn’t seem so insurmountable anymore.

And then his big brother went and got himself killed.

Daryl stormed across the field that led to the prison’s courtyard, shoulders set, fists balled, eyes rimmed red.

The Governor would pay — he’d pay for what he’d done.

To Glenn, to Maggie, to countless others.

He’d pay for what he did to Merle.

The archer’s footsteps faltered, only briefly, when he spotted Y/N pacing back and forth behind the gate. Her head snapped towards him as he approached, her worried expression melting into relief as she quickly pulled the gate open for him.

“You okay?” she called to him, brow furrowing as she craned her neck, now looking behind him. “Where’s Merle?”

Daryl kept his gaze forward, digging his fingernails into the palm of his hand as he marched past her without a second glance. “Dead,” he grunted, ignoring the prickling sensation growing behind his eyes.

“What?” he heard her exclaim, though he didn’t turn around — he kept his momentum pushing ahead, hellbent on going after the Governor and taking him down once and for all.

No matter what the cost.

He stalked towards where he’d parked his motorcycle, slinging his crossbow over his back and mounting the bike in one swift motion.

But Y/N was just as quick.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” she jogged towards him, planting herself in front of the bike, an alarmed look in her eyes. “What’re you doing?”

Daryl felt a swell of anger wash over him, an unusual feeling when directed towards her. “Move,” he growled, using his heel to knock the bike’s kickstand up.

Y/N’s brow furrowed, his intent becomingly startling clear. “No.”

He was caught off guard by her protest, though snapped out of it just as soon — his scowl deepened, his eyes darkening, seeing nothing but redness and fury and Merle’s reanimated corpse flickering through his mind. “Move, damn it,” he snarled once more.

But Y/N stood her ground regardless of the wariness in her gaze. “No.”

The archer’s rage churned inside him, his grip white-knuckled around the throttle. “Ya —”

“Please, don’t do this,” she interrupted his brusque retort, shaking her head. “I promise — I promise — he’ll get what’s coming to him, but Daryl…this is not the way.”

He knew deep down she was right, but he didn’t want to hear it — he didn’t want to hear ration or reason or the pity in her voice.

He didn’t want to hear any of it.

“I’m sorry,” she suddenly whispered, emotion clouding her eyes. “God, I’m so sorry about Merle. I’m —”

Something inside the archer snapped. “Ya know what, ya can drop the damn act,” he hissed, springing off the bike and shoving it to the ground with a deafening crash. He ignored the way Y/N flinched as he barreled towards her like a surging storm. “Ya can stop pretendin’ like anyone in this fuckin’ place gave a single shit ‘bout my brother!” he fired back, his voice rising. “Or me, for that matter!”

Y/N recoiled away from him, eyes wide. “I’m —” she started, shrinking under his heated approach. “I didn’t —”

“Forget it,” the archer spat, unable to stop the fervor spewing out of him. “Ya don’t know shit.”

A beat of silence passed as they stared one another down — but the more the quiet stretched on, the more a different emotion began to seep through the archer.

Guilt.

Unable to watch the hurt settling across Y/N’s features, Daryl turned away, allowing his brewing vehemence to carry him across the courtyard and to the doors leading into cellblock C. He paused at the doorway, unable to stop himself from looking back.

He watched Y/N’s head lower, her shoulders drop, before she slowly reached down, grabbing his toppled motorcycle by the handlebars and propping it upright.

The archer swallowed his remorse, buried his instincts, and stalked inside.

Daryl hissed a breath as the burnt end of the cigarette singed his fingertip. He stubbed the flame out against the heel of his boot, flicking the butt away into the grass.

Still, to this day, he felt bad about losing his temper. The anger had clearly been misdirected, but in the moment, he hadn’t been able to get a handle on it — Y/N had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Despite the aftermath of his outburst weighing heavily on him, he’d kept his distance from her throughout the days that followed.

Old habits die hard.

Daryl woke with a start, his eyes snapping open, chasing away lingering images of the nightmare he’d found himself immersed in.

Sleep had never been kind to him, even before everything went to shit — tonight was no different.

He could still see flashes of redness and death, smell the scent of rotting corpses and bloodshed, hear the sounds of tormented screams and anguished whimpers —

Daryl’s thoughts faltered as he quickly pushed up onto his elbows, straining his ears.

He realized then that the whimpering wasn’t coming from just his imagination. No, it was real — and it was coming from somewhere inside the cellblock.

The archer sprang up, untangling himself from the bed sheet coiled at his feet before shuffling towards the doorway. He paused there, his senses on high alert, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end as he listened carefully.

When another soft cry sounded, he moved from the entryway, slowly slinking past cell after cell and following the noise.

It wasn’t long before he found himself standing outside Y/N’s cell.

Daryl peered into the shadowed room, just barely able to make out the shape of her beneath the covers. She murmured something jumbled and incoherent, her words muffled as though her face was pressed into the pillow. She tossed and turned for a moment before finally settling.

When she remained still, the archer nearly left for his own cell.

But then he heard a quietly gasped sob and began moving forward before he could think twice.

Daryl crouched down beside Y/N’s bedside, turning on the lantern she’d left sitting on the floor. He shielded his eyes from the light until they adjusted before focusing on her.

She was curled up, covers drawn to her chin, faint tear tracks marking the sides of her face. Her brow was knitted, causing lines to form across her forehead — he fought back the urge to reach out and smooth them away.

Apparently, he wasn’t the only one sleep was unkind to.

Another soft whimper blew past her lips and Daryl reached for her, gently shaking her shoulder.

Y/N immediately jolted awake, shooting upright, disoriented and alarmed as her bleary eyes darted around the cell.

“Hey, hey,” Daryl quickly rasped, holding his hands out in front of him. “It’s alright.”

“What — what happened?” she croaked, her voice thick with sleep, her wide gaze finally settling on him.

The archer shook his head, pulling back slightly, second-guessing his decision to wake her. “Nothin’ — nothin’, alright? We’re okay.”

“What —” she sounded, a bewildered look flitting across her face as she settled her hand against her undoubtedly racing heart. “Are you okay?”

Daryl’s brow furrowed at her question, confused as to why that would be her next question and not ‘what the fuck are you doing in my cell?’ Regardless, he nodded once. “Yeah,” the archer brushed off her concern, sitting back on his haunches. “Ya — uh, ya were cryin’,” he revealed hesitantly, scratching the back of his neck as he watched for her reaction.

Y/N straightened, the top bunk just grazing the crown of her head as she dabbed her fingertip at the corner of her eye, appearing almost embarrassed suddenly. “Oh,” she whispered, wiping away the tears that’d formed.

Daryl gnawed on the inside of his cheek. “Ya alright?” he rasped after a long moment.

She quickly nodded her head, waving off his worry. “Oh, no — yeah, no, I’m fine,” she replied flippantly, shooting the archer a tight-lipped smile.

Despite Daryl seeing right through her bullshit, he didn’t push.

Instead, he nodded once and clambered back to his feet.

But he’d just barely turned to leave when Y/N spoke up once more. “Hey, Daryl?”

The archer faltered, glancing back at her. “Yeah?”

Her demeanor appeared collected, though he could see her hands twisting nervously around the sheet splayed out across his lap. “I —” she paused, seemingly working up the nerve to say what was next. “Are we okay?”

Daryl felt his chest tighten, the heaviness that’d grown between them splintering in that moment. There was something about her words, the smallness in her voice, that had him kicking himself for being so damn stubborn, for not making things right sooner.

She raked a hand through her tousled hair. “I just — I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have — I mean, I wasn’t trying to —”

“Stop,” Daryl cut off her rambling, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I was actin’ like an asshole,” he grumbled admittedly, the shame he’d buried creeping back in.

The tension in Y/N’s features softened as she regarded him. “It’s okay.”

For some reason, her easy forgiveness made Daryl’s insides churn.

“Nah, it ain’t,” he shot back sharply, almost wishing she’d curse him out instead. “Wasn’t right ta’ take that shit out on ya.”

“You were grieving,” she justified, her explanation simple and understanding.

Daryl worked his jaw, clenching and unclenching as he stared at the far wall of her cell, his gaze darkening — he didn’t deserve her compassion. “Well, ya probably stopped me from doin’ somethin’ real stupid,” he muttered dryly.

She merely shrugged, still completely unfazed. “Grief makes us do stupid things,” she murmured, defending him yet again. “I am sorry about your brother, you know,” she whispered a moment later, the sincerity in her voice knocking down the wall Daryl had worked so hard to keep between them.

He nodded slowly, clearing his throat before speaking again. “Merle was no hero,” he finally rumbled. “But he died tryin’ ta’ make shit right,” he mustered, his eyes finding hers amidst the shadows of her cell.

Y/N shot him a small, somewhat sad smile. “Then he didn’t die for nothing.”

Daryl swallowed the lump that formed in his throat, feeling as though his heart was moments away from bursting out of his chest. It was as though the cell was shrinking around him, the walls closing in — and the only thing keeping him above the surface was her.

“Get some sleep,” he managed gruffly, turning to leave once more.

“Daryl?”

The archer stilled. “Hm?” he sounded, not trusting his voice.

“Can you stay?” she whispered, so softly he almost missed it entirely. “Just a little longer?”

Daryl shifted his weight back and forth, feeling the overwhelming urge to run, to retreat to his own cell and pretend he hadn’t heard her.

But the slight tremble in her voice, something others surely would’ve missed, pulled him right back in.

The air thickened as he walked towards her, every fiber of his being screaming at him to make a run for it while he still had the chance. Y/N watched him approach, slightly wide-eyed, his steps faltering the closer he neared. She maneuvered slightly on the bed, moving towards the wall as though making room for him beside her.

Instead, Daryl did the most rational thing he could think of — he grabbed the empty mattress on the top bunk, slid it off the frame, and dropped it onto the floor next to her.

Y/N’s brow furrowed. “Oh, you don’t have to —”

“G’night,” Daryl interjected abruptly, avoiding her gaze as he quickly turned off the lantern and laid down. He crossed his arms tightly over his chest and squeezed his eyes shut, his face surely on fire.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Daryl peeked an eye open, certain she could hear his thrumming pulse from where she sat. But a moment later, the bed creaked as she settled back down against the rickety mattress.

He released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

The archer wasn’t sure how much time passed before Y/N’s breathing evened out, the stranger from the woods all those days ago finally falling into a deep and restful sleep.

He, on the other hand, remained awake until morning came.

She’d asked him to stay and that was exactly what he was going to do.

Not even sleep could take him from her.

Everything changed after that night.

After the people from Woodbury moved into the prison, the demand for supplies nearly tripled. The archer found himself going on runs more often than not, hunting for game or scavenging local businesses — but the days and nights he was home were spent with her.

They fell into a routine of sorts. The days were spent working the fence or tending to things around the prison — but most nights, they’d sneak away from the others and spend hours sitting atop one of the unused watchtowers.

It became ‘their spot’, as Y/N had put it.

Some nights they sat quietly, existing in comfortable silence, watching the vast night sky. Other nights, Daryl would learn things about her — those were his favorite nights.

Y/N would talk about anything and everything — the mundane stuff, the deep stuff, the things in between — while Daryl would rest his head against the watchtower and close his eyes, listening to the way her voice rose and fell. She’d tell stories of her life before the end and her hopes for the future as though there still was one.

And over time, despite the world decaying at its very core, even Daryl started to believe that maybe, just maybe, there could be one.

She became his solace.

Hell, maybe she always had been, but he’d been too damn stupid to realize it.

“I’m sick of hearing myself talk,” Y/N suddenly spoke, a soft laugh following.

Daryl’s eyes snapped open as he glanced over at her, his brow furrowing.

She shifted from where she sat, the side of her face illuminated by moonlight. “Tell me something about you,” she said sweetly, her knee brushing against his as she rested one shoulder against the watchtower, giving him her full attention.

The archer felt his face warm under her curiosity. “Ya know plenty,” he grunted — and it was the truth. He’d told her more about himself than anyone else in his entire life.

“Oh, come on,” she countered and though Daryl couldn’t see it, he sensed an eye roll. “Just one thing? Something I don’t already know and then I’ll leave you alone.”

He huffed a breath. “Fine,” he grumbled, giving in.

Y/N waited patiently as the archer fell into thought, racking his brain for something to share — something even worth sharing. The silence that dredged on wasn’t helping either — if anything, it only added to the pressure. His life wasn’t all that interesting, never had been, never would be.

Daryl snuck a glance at Y/N — well, maybe that wasn’t entirely true.

“Uh,” he rumbled, scratching the back of his head. “I don’t know. Guess I always wanted a dog?” he mustered, the confession coming off more so a question than an actual statement.

Still, Y/N’s face broke out into one of her million-dollar smiles. “I can totally see you with a dog,” she beamed. “You never had one?”

Daryl almost shook his head, but then a faint memory came to mind. He looked away, propping his elbows against his knees and focusing straight ahead.

“When, uh —” he cleared his throat uncomfortably, picking absently at the skin beside his thumbnail. “When I was a kid, I was walkin’ home from school. Found this stray covered in mud, damn near skin an’ bones. An’ so I took it home,” he pressed his lips together before snorting a breath. “Even tied my shoelace ‘round its neck like a leash.”

“Aw,” Y/N sounded softly.

“Mhm,” the archer mumbled, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

After a stretch of silence lingered, she spoke up once more. “But you didn’t keep it?”

Daryl began picking at his skin a little more aggressively. “My old man — he was on a bender. Started screamin’ an’ hollerin’ when he saw me ‘cause he ‘didn’t wanna take care a’ no mangy mutt’,” he bit out, echoing his father’s words from all those years ago. “He threw somethin’ — don’t remember what. Maybe an empty whiskey bottle. Poor dog was scared outta its mind,” he murmured, shaking his head. “It pissed on the floor, right in front a’ him.”

Y/N’s expression turned troubled, her lips forming into a small frown.

Daryl ignored the tightness growing in his throat. “So he tossed the dog in his truck, drove off, an’ that was that — I never saw it again,” he finished, wincing as he ripped a small piece of skin off his thumb, drawing a drop of blood.

“What’d your dad do?” Y/N asked, her voice small.

The archer wiped the blood off onto his jeans. “Don’t know,” he shrugged, glancing over at her. “He never said an’ I never asked.”

She held his gaze for a long moment before letting out a soft sigh.

Daryl turned his head, staring out over the railing and into the darkened forest. He’d never told anyone that story — not even Merle, who’d been doing another stint in juvie at the time. The truth was, he carried a lot of guilt from that day. Sure, he was only a kid, but he was the one who’d brought the stray home in the first place.

Whatever happened to that dog…well, that was on him.

“Hey,” Y/N murmured, gently poking the side of his arm, drawing him back to her. “Maybe we’ll find you a dog of your own someday.”

Daryl quirked a brow, unconvinced.

“You never know,” she shrugged. “What would you name it?”

He scoffed softly in response, shaking his head.

“Come on,” she reached over and poked him once more. “Humor me.”

“How ‘bout this,” the archer relented. “If — an’ that’s a big-ass if — we ever find a dog someday, ya get ta' name it.”

Y/N’s face immediately lit up. “Me?”

“Mhm,” he nodded his head, feeling the corners of his lips twitch.

She exhaled a breath, her gaze widening. “This…this is a shit-ton of pressure, Dixon,” she whispered, the wheels in her mind, very obviously, turning.

Despite everything, a soft laugh rumbled from deep inside Daryl’s chest, the sound strange and unfamiliar. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d genuinely laughed — the noise got stuck in his throat, like his body was physically rejecting the sensation.

When he noticed Y/N watching him, a cheeky grin plastered across her face, his skin flushed.

“Okay, okay, let me think…” she grew serious, closing her eyes and resting her chin against her clasped hands. Not even a second later, her eyes shot open. “Got it!”

Daryl motioned for her to continue. “Lemme hear it.”

“Alright,” she shifted, facing him head-on. “Dog.”

The archer’s brow knitted together, his gaze narrowing. “Dog?”

“Dog,” she nodded resolutely.

“Ya — ya wanna name the dog ‘Dog’?” he questioned dubiously.

“Yup,” she grinned, popping the ‘p’.

Daryl rolled his eyes, fighting back a smirk. “Ya got a couple a’ screws loose, ya know that?” he teased, tapping the side of his head.

“Shut up,” Y/N laughed softly, nudging him with her elbow.

A beat of quiet passed between them before Daryl cleared his throat. “We ought'a head back,” he grumbled, starting to stand.

But then Y/N reached out, grabbing onto his hand. “Hang on,” she objected, looking up at him. “Just a few more minutes?” she asked, gently tugging his arm down.

The skin on his hand tingled beneath her touch as her gaze, warm like honey, melted further into his.

Before he could think twice, he found himself settling back down beside her, his hand still intertwined around hers.

Besides, when had he ever been able to say ‘no’ to her?

Daryl could’ve sworn those nights up in the watchtower were the best nights of his life.

Then the prison fell.

And destroyed everything good along with it.

“Do you miss her?”

Daryl’s eyes snapped open, just then noticing the quiet that’d settled over the funeral home. He glanced over at Beth, who remained seated in front of the piano, her kind gaze watching him curiously.

Settling further inside the casket he laid in, the archer turned to stare up at the ceiling, folding one arm behind his head, the other laid out across his stomach. He ignored Beth’s question — not because it wasn’t true, but because he knew if he spoke, if he started talking about her, the hollowness inside his chest would swallow him whole.

“I think she’s still out there,” Beth assured him quietly, steadfast in hanging onto whatever hope she could muster. “I think they all are.”

Daryl grunted softly in response, not trusting his voice.

He wanted to believe that — he wanted nothing more than to believe that Y/N and the others were out there somewhere, somewhere safe. But he wasn’t a foolish man — and he just couldn’t bring himself to feign the kind of certainty that came so effortlessly to Beth.

“‘And whatever you ask in prayer, you will receive, if you have faith’,” she suddenly murmured, her eyes glowing against the candlelight, a bittersweet smile tugging at her lips. “Daddy used ta’ quote scripture — that was one of his favorites,” she explained, her voice growing thick at the mention of her father. She pulled herself together before continuing. “I have faith,” her words were resolute, as though not only trying to convince him but herself as well.

The archer huffed a breath, crossing his arms over his chest. “Got enough for the both a’ us?” he muttered dryly, quirking a brow.

Beth laughed, breaking the heaviness that’d spread. “Sure do,” she beamed before shooting him a meaningful look. “You can thank me later.”

With that, she swiveled around on the bench and faced the piano once more, her fingers dancing along the keys, filling the room with a gentle melody.

Daryl wasn’t a religious man — never had been, never would be.

He didn’t buy into all that bullshit. If there was a God out there…what the fuck was he doing? Where was he? Why didn’t he stop the world from ending? Why did he let the bad destroy the good, time and time again?

He just couldn’t put his faith into something so cruel, so merciless.

Daryl wasn’t a religious man.

But for the first time in his entire life, he closed his eyes and prayed.

The archer felt his throat constrict.

He tilted his head back, looking up at the darkened sky. The sun had melted into the Earth, in its place thousands upon thousands of littered stars, surrounding a glowing crescent-shaped moon.

Maybe he’d been wrong. Maybe there was a God out there — some higher power or greater being — who’d been listening that night in the funeral home.

Because somehow, someway, despite all the odds stacked against him…he’d found her.

Daryl felt his lip split beneath another vicious punch, his head snapping to the side.

He was losing strength, his bruised body slowly giving out on him as two of the Claimers continued to relentlessly beat him. It seemed like no matter how hard he fought back, he just couldn’t get the upper hand.

He was outnumbered and unarmed, but as long as their attention remained on him, he wouldn’t back down — because once they were done with him, they’d move on to the others.

They’d move on to her.

Daryl caught Y/N’s horrified gaze from the other side of the road — she was knelt in front of Tony, who had a fistful of her hair in his grip, simultaneously holding Michonne at gunpoint. Y/N was struggling against his hold, attempting to break free, her features twisted in pain.

A low growl rumbled from deep inside the archer, a red-hot rage coursing through his veins as he fought even harder against the two men.

He managed to dodge another punch, but in the process, connected with a swift jab to the ribcage. He exhaled sharply, losing his breath as the two closed in on him once more — though as the archer braced himself for the next strike, he noticed that the men had suddenly frozen in place.

Daryl followed their stares, finally understanding what had caused the abrupt standstill.

Rick was staggering away from the leader of the Claimers, red staining the bottom half of his face — the archer didn’t even realize it was blood until he saw Joe. The man swayed unsteadily on his feet, eyes wide, mouth agape, as his hands reached for where his throat should’ve been.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Michonne grabbed Tony’s gun and turned it on himself, shooting him once. Daryl followed suit, landing a solid hook against the side of Billy’s face. He heard another gunshot ring out but was too focused on the man at his feet to notice. Without any hesitation, the archer stomped the heel of his boot into the man’s skull, killing him instantly.

He backed away from Billy’s crushed form, stumbling over Harvey’s body, a bullet hole now between his lifeless eyes. He spun around, steadying himself against the hood of the car in front of him as he worked to control his heaving breaths. He’d turned just in time to see Rick mercilessly stabbing Dan, over and over again until the man’s center was nothing but a mess of blood and guts.

And then he saw her.

She was still on her knees, though now hunched over beside Tony, staring silently at his unmoving figure.

Daryl pushed away from the truck and rounded the hood, his heart leaping into his throat as he made a beeline towards her. His footsteps faltered the closer he neared, the sight before him suddenly registering — Tony had been shot through the neck by Michonne, but the front of his skull had also been caved in.

His gaze flickered towards Y/N, just then noticing the blood-soaked boulder clasped tightly in her hand.

It took every ounce of strength to not rush forward, to not pull her into his arms and hold her close because damn it, she was alive, she was okay, she was here.

The archer stepped over Tony’s body, slowly crouching down in front of Y/N — when his approach didn’t stir her, a jolt of unease shot through him. Her vacant eyes were trained on the dead man, her features expressionless and ashen. There was a cut just above her eyebrow, a small trail of blood trickling down the side of her face, but other than that, she appeared relatively unharmed.

Daryl gently took her hand in his and carefully unclasped her fingers from around the rock. He tossed the boulder aside before settling down, kneeling opposite her, his deep blue eyes maintaining a watchful look.

The archer brushed his thumb over the back of her limp hand, squeezing softly a moment later.

And then, almost hesitantly, she squeezed back.

Daryl held his breath as her eyes found his, welling with unshed tears, the helplessness in her haunted gaze twisting his insides. “I never killed someone before,” she whispered suddenly, choking on her words as though speaking shards of glass.

He wasn’t used to seeing her this way — she’d always been so steady, a light others were drawn towards, that he’d been drawn towards. And now…well, now he wished the Claimers would come alive so he could rip them apart all over again.

Unable to stand the sight of her broken expression any longer, Daryl reached for her. “C’mere,” he rasped, slipping his hand behind the back of her head and pulling her forward.

Y/N’s features crumpled as she fell against his chest, a hitched sob catching in her throat. She buried her face into the crook of his neck, gripping onto the front of his vest as though he was the only thing keeping her afloat.

He wrapped his other arm securely around her back, keeping her cradled against his body. “S’ alright,” the archer rumbled as she held on tighter to him, her frame trembling as she cried. “I got ya, Y/N, I got ya.”

Daryl wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, woven around one another, his pounding heart echoing hers.

But he didn’t mind — because he’d found her.

And nothing else seemed to matter much with her engulfed in his arms.

The weeks that’d followed nearly destroyed them all.

With unrelenting heat, dwindling supplies, and the hollowness of loss inside each of them, morale had been at an all-time low. The little amount of food they’d managed to scrounge up had been divvied into morsels — though not enough to soothe their aches of hunger. The water supply eventually depleted, leaving their throats raw and mouths like cotton as they walked — day after day, down winding road after winding road, searching for salvation that was nowhere to find.

The line that’d separated them from the dead had become alarmingly thin.

And it’d only been a matter of time before that line disappeared altogether.

Daryl roused from his sleep, somehow feeling even more exhausted than when he first closed his eyes.

He scrubbed at his face, wiping away the thin sheen of sweat that’d formed before huffing a breath. The sign of first morning light seeped through the canopy of trees above him, visible through the motionless overgrowth of leaves and greenery. The heat was already suffocating — his clothes stuck uncomfortably to his skin, his throat desperate for water he couldn’t afford to drink.

But focusing on that, focusing on the discomfort, was much easier than acknowledging the looming darkness that lingered.

The archer pushed up onto his elbows, the forest floor digging into his skin. He scanned the makeshift camp his group had set up, positioned just off the main road. Almost everyone was still asleep, curled up on the harsh wooded ground within the permitter they’d barricaded.

Except for Y/N who was nowhere to be seen.

Daryl felt his stomach lurch as he pulled himself off the ground and staggered to his feet, ignoring the wave of dizziness he felt — it’d been days since he’d eaten, since any of them had eaten. He grabbed his crossbow and slung it over his shoulder, tiptoeing around the others as to not wake them — they deserved a few more minutes in a reality that wasn’t as fucked as this one.

The only other person awake was Glenn, who’d volunteered to be on watch. He sat with his back against a large tree trunk, Maggie at his side, her head resting against his shoulder.

Daryl headed towards them, drawing Glenn’s attention. But before he could say anything, Glenn nodded his head towards something on the main road, careful not to jostle Maggie awake.

The archer followed his gaze, spotting Y/N through the trees. He nodded once in silent ‘thanks’, feeling the pit in his stomach loosen as he marched out of the woods and crossed over the asphalt.

Y/N was sitting on the hood of a long-since abandoned car, her feet perched atop the dented front bumper. Her eyes flashed towards him as he approached, prominent dark circles beneath a weary gaze, so unlike the warmth he was used to seeing.

Daryl felt his throat constrict — he could handle his own demons, the heaviness that’d latched onto his bones after the last few weeks.

But hers?

She needed to be okay — he needed her to be okay.

He slid onto the hood, the car dipping below his weight as he settled beside her. A comfortable silence stretched on as they stared down the long and desolate road ahead, each lost in their own thoughts.

“I miss ‘our spot’,” Y/N suddenly murmured, her tone wistful.

Daryl grunted softly in response, the nights they’d spent up in the watchtower flashing through his mind.

He missed it too — he hadn’t known peace like that before.

“God, we had it so good back then,” she exhaled a breath, lowering her head.

The archer peeked over at her, hearing the hint of emotion growing in her words, the sadness she tried to conceal. But she couldn’t hide it — not from him.

He could tell how she was feeling by the steadiness of her breath.

“We still had Hershel…” she whispered, clasping her hands together, her knuckles turning white. “Bob…Tyreese…” her voice cracked slightly before she glanced up. “Beth.”

It was Daryl’s turn to look away.

He couldn’t think about her — not without smelling moonshine and ash, not without feeling the weight of her lifeless body in his arms.

He never got to thank her.

When the prison fell, Daryl had been certain he’d never see Y/N again — that somehow, someway, she’d burned along with it. But Beth…she’d known — she’d known he’d find her again one day.

And he never got to thank her.

“I know you’re in pain,” Y/N’s voice broke through his guilt-ridden thoughts, drawing him back to her. “And I know how easy it is to just shove it down and push it away and pretend like it doesn’t exist,” she looked over at him then, her gaze steady and knowing — and despite the scrutiny, he couldn’t find it in himself to look away. “And I’m not asking you to talk about it. But please, just — just don’t pretend like it’s not there.”

Daryl gnawed on the inside of his cheek, his teeth breaking skin and filling his senses with the metallic taste of blood.

When Y/N reached towards him, he stiffened.

She slowly brushed away the hair that fell in front of his eyes, smoothing the strands back out of his face. “You’re not carved out of stone, Daryl,” she murmured gently before resting her palm against his flushed cheek.

The air suddenly thickened, the archer becoming painfully aware of how little space remained between them. There was a pull — almost magnetic — that urged him to lean closer, to draw nearer, to take her in his arms and shut out the rest of the world.

But before he could give into instinct, he pulled away and hopped off the hood of the car, landing on his feet with a huff.

Daryl looked anywhere but at her, ignoring the slight tremble in his fingertips. “M’ gonna —” he quickly cleared the thickness in his throat. “M’ gonna take a look ‘round — see what I can see.”

Y/N was quiet, though the archer didn’t dare look at her. “Okay,” she finally sounded — and even though Daryl couldn’t see her expression, he could hear the tangible defeat in her tone.

He clenched his jaw, kicking himself for being the source of her disappointment as he beelined towards the woods on the other side of the road, opposite the campsite.

But he’d only taken a couple of steps when he faltered, realizing then that he couldn’t just walk away — he’d never been able to just walk away.

Not from her.

“I hear ya,” he rasped, glancing back at her, the words tumbling from his mouth before he could stop them. “Ya know, what ya were sayin’ before an’ — an’ all that. I jus’ — I hear ya,” he mustered, the jumbled explanation all he could offer.

A tired smile tugged at Y/N’s lips. “I know,” she assured him softly.

Daryl held her gaze before nodding once, turning without another word, and disappearing into the trees.

A newfound determination coursed through the archer as he ventured further into the woods — there had to be something else out there, somewhere his people could call ‘home’. They couldn’t keep going on like this, fighting day-to-day just to survive — it couldn’t be them and the dead anymore.

There had to be something else, something more.

The world couldn’t be all bad.

Not the same world that’d given him her.

Daryl pulled his gaze away from the darkened sky.

His eyes trailed over the towering gates that surrounded Alexandria — sturdy iron sheets and impenetrable steel, the only thing keeping away the dead that roamed just outside them. He brushed his fingers over the ground, tugging at the overgrown blades of grass beneath where he sat as he fell back in thought.

Despite his initial doubt that Alexandria was all it promised to be, in time, the community had proven him wrong. Sure, there were fractures in its foundation, but it was better than nothing.

It was better than before.

And for the first time since the end of everything, there was hope for a future.

Smoke spilled past the archer’s lips, wafting in front of him before disappearing into the night air.

The streets of Alexandria were still — a welcomed change in comparison to life outside the walls. Daryl shifted on the porch steps, taking another drag from his cigarette as he rested his back against the railing. He tilted his head backward, blowing out a lungful of smoke, feeling his nerves calm in the process.

“Hey, stranger,” a voice suddenly called, breaking the quiet that’d stretched on.

Daryl knew that voice — knew it better than the back of his own damn hand.

He quickly shook away the hair that’d fallen in front of his eyes, watching as Y/N approached.

She looked different — her hair was washed, her clothes no longer blood-stained and tattered. The lines of worry that’d marred her features were smoothed away, replaced by a warm smile that only grew the closer she neared. It was strange — almost like getting a glimpse of her before the dead started walking.

Her footsteps slowed as she stopped in front of him, her head cocking slightly to the side. “What’s that look for?”

Daryl ducked his head down, his face feeling fuzzy — like a kid getting caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Nothin’,” he shook his head, inhaling another drag from his cigarette before stubbing the flame out against the porch steps.

Y/N plopped down beside him, propping her back up against the railing opposite his. “So,” she started, turning her attention towards him. “Deanna was asking where you were tonight.”

The archer scoffed as he flicked the cigarette butt away. “Aaron’s,” he rasped, pulling one knee to his chest, resting his elbow on top of it.

Y/N appeared surprised at his response but didn’t push further. Instead, she exhaled heavily. “This place is like the fucking Twilight Zone.”

He huffed a breath, nodding in agreement. “Ya headin’ back over there?” he rumbled after a moment, jerking his head in the direction of the welcome party.

“Oh, no,” she quickly shook her head. “I’m sick of people,” she admitted before glancing over at him. “You don’t count.”

Daryl snorted a laugh, rolling his eyes despite the strange sort of pride her words brought him.

A beat of silence passed before Y/N spoke again. “Aaron seems like a good guy.”

The archer grunted softly in response, their conversation from earlier coming to mind. “He wants me ta’ start scoutin’ with him — findin’ other survivors, bringin’ ‘em back.”

Y/N’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

“Mhm,” Daryl sounded, nestling the side of his thumb between his teeth.

“Is that something you’d wanna do?” she asked, leaning forward a fraction.

He paused, taking a minute to consider her words. If he was being honest, he felt more comfortable outside Alexandria’s walls than inside — and having a good enough reason to be back on the road didn’t seem like such a bad thing. But if he was being really honest…

Daryl’s gaze met Y/N’s once more — he hadn’t been away from her since the prison fell.

That wasn’t exactly a time in his life he’d like to revisit.

“I do alright out there, I guess,” he shrugged a shoulder up, dropping his hand back into his lap.

A look of amusement flashed over her features in response. “That’s quite the understatement.”

The corner of his mouth quirked, but he couldn’t seem to ease the sudden worry gnawing at him. “Ya gonna be alright in here?” he rasped, steadying her with a serious look.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?” she countered smoothly — but Daryl could hear the hint of something in her tone, something he couldn’t quite place. When he remained silent, Y/N’s expression turned reflective. “I think it’ll be a good thing — you could help a lot of people out there who need it.”

The archer picked up on her deflection. “That ain’t what m’ askin’,” he retorted, calling her bluff.

Y/N looked as though she wanted to argue — but then her lips pressed together, forming a thin line. “I don’t know,” she finally said, avoiding his gaze. “I just — I don’t like being away from you, that’s all,” she admitted quietly, wringing her clasped hands together.

He stilled, never having been more grateful for nightfall — otherwise, she surely would’ve seen the sudden redness creeping over his cheeks.

“But, like I said,” she continued, exhaling a slightly awkward laugh. “It’ll be a good thing.”

He nodded once. “Mhm,” he sounded, not trusting his voice.

Her eyes softened before she began pulling herself up off the porch steps. “Well, I’m gonna get some sleep — see you in the morning?”

The archer cleared his throat. “I’ll see ya,” he rumbled.

A small smile tugged at Y/N’s lips as she headed up the steps, gently squeezing his shoulder as she passed.

He didn’t move a muscle, listening intently for the sound of the front door shutting before closing his eyes, ignoring the tingling sensation beneath where she’d touched him.

Daryl huffed a defeated breath. “Shit.”

Had he given into instinct that night, he would’ve told her the truth.

He would’ve told her that he felt the same way, that being away from her felt like losing half of himself, that nothing in his life had ever made sense until he met her. The words had toyed at the tip of his tongue, desperate to be heard after being swallowed time and time again — but he just hadn’t been able to do it.

He could almost hear Merle’s snide voice in the back of his head — taunting him, calling him ‘whipped’ and a ‘pussy’ and a ‘good-for-nothin’ redneck’, mocking him for even considering that someone like her could feel anything for someone like him.

So instead, he’d reverted back to what he knew best — shutting down and pushing away.

It wasn’t intentional, merely second nature after years and years of repetition.

But the wall he’d worked so hard to build stood no chance.

Not against her.

Daryl knew something was wrong the moment he crossed back through Alexandria’s gates.

And then the screaming started.

He took off into a sprint, his heart mimicking the echo of his footsteps pounding against the asphalt. He could hear Aaron and Morgan just behind, right on his heels, their heavy breathing mirroring his own as the sounds of anguish grew louder.

The archer felt his stomach drop the closer he neared, his mind repeating one, single phrase over and over again —

Just let her be okay.

When he and Aaron had gotten trapped in that car earlier, surrounded by walkers, he’d thought that was it for him. He was going to lead the dead away and give Aaron enough time to make it out, to make it back to Alexandria where he could continue doing what he did best — bringing salvation to those who needed it.

He’d made peace with his decision.

And as he’d grabbed the door handle, moments away from pushing into the raging swarm, he’d only been thinking one thing —

Just let her be okay.

For some reason, he’d been given a second chance and all he wanted was to see her again. It was nearly overwhelming, setting his nerves ablaze, sending his heart racing — it consumed him entirely, the thought of her.

He’d realized then what he should’ve known all along.

He’d never felt for anyone the way he felt for her.

Daryl finally found the others, all gathered in the center of town — but he barely had time to register what was happening when a single gunshot rang out.

Aaron and Morgan stood frozen beside him as they took in the scene — Rick had a gun in hand, the barrel pointed towards the ground, directly above Pete’s now-shattered skull. The crowd looked on in horror, huddled together near a dimly lit fire, eyes wide, mouths agape. Then he saw Reg — his throat sliced open, his body splayed out across Deanna’s lap, Michonne’s bloody katana lying beside him.

“Rick?” Morgan suddenly spoke, breaking the deafening silence that’d followed.

The sound drew Rick’s attention, his vacant eyes finding Morgan’s — but Daryl’s gaze drifted, meeting hers instead.

His stomach dropped when he saw her — she had one hand pressed against her cheek, blood trickling out from between her fingers, her face frozen in disbelief.

Daryl moved towards her, the rest of the world fading away.

Just let her be okay.

Y/N’s expression shifted as he neared, the apprehension that’d marred her features melting, turning into relief despite her ashen complexion and the chaos surrounding them. She absently shook her head back and forth, opening her mouth as if to say something, but no sound came out.

The archer came to a stop in front of her, his own voice lost somewhere deep inside his chest. So instead, he reached for her, very carefully, as though she’d been spun from glass. He wrapped his fingers around her wrist and gently pulled her hand away from her face, revealing a gash that stretched across the entirety of her cheek.

The swell of rage that coursed through him felt red-hot, flushing his skin as he stared at the wound, his eyes glinting dangerously by the light of the fire.

“She caught the nasty end of Petey-boy’s backswing,” came Abraham’s gruff voice.

Daryl hadn’t even realized the man approached — he was too busy thinking up new ways to bring Pete back to life, all so he could shoot the dead prick dead all over again.

Abraham crouched down a few inches beside him, taking a closer look at Y/N’s injury before whistling softly. “Ya must be ridin’ the gravy train with biscuit wheels, lil’ lady. That sack a’ shit damn near took your eye out,” he drawled before glancing over at Daryl. “Don’t think she needs stitches — unless someone wants ta’ reincarnate Dr. Dickwad for a second opinion.”

Y/N attempted to huff a laugh, but the motion had her wincing, her features twisting in pain.

And Daryl had seen enough.

He grunted a gruff ‘I got it’, giving Abraham a nod of appreciation before taking Y/N by the elbow and maneuvering her away from the others, back onto the street.

She allowed him to guide her elsewhere, neither saying a single word.

The two houses Deanna had provided to the group had been split amongst the lot of them. Daryl chose to reside in the finished basement — it was small and dingy, but he didn’t mind. The room had a couch and a bathroom and was much nicer than any other place he’d ever stayed at — even before the end of times.

And right now, it was serving as a makeshift infirmary.

Y/N sat perched on the edge of the couch, her knee bouncing anxiously as she watched Daryl barrel around the space like a rampant tornado. He grabbed whatever he could think of — the first aid kit stored beneath the bathroom sink, a bottle of water, a clean t-shirt to swap out for her blood-spattered one — before making his way back to her. He set the items down on the coffee table in front of the couch and took a seat on the edge of it, opposite her.

Still, neither spoke.

Daryl kept his eyes focused on the slash mark — that was much easier than acknowledging the absence of space between them. He unscrewed the cap to the water bottle, emptying a small amount onto a dry piece of gauze before leaning forward. Ever so slowly, he dabbed at the blood that’d dripped down her face and onto her neck, ignoring the near-palpable tension.

Y/N sat still as a statue, tilting her head back slightly as he wiped away the redness. But when he moved further up, nearing the wound, she flinched, hissing reflexively. Daryl snatched his hand back as if slapped, his eyes meeting hers, quietly apologetic.

She nodded for him to continue, taking a deep breath and balling her hands into fists atop her thighs.

The archer worked his jaw, lightening his touch.

He wasn’t sure how long they sat like that — all he knew was that when he was with her, nothing else really seemed to matter.

Luckily, the wound wasn’t as severe as it’d initially appeared — it was fairly shallow, faint towards the edges, and in time would heal completely. He wanted to tell her so, but the words wouldn’t formulate — the silence that’d stretched on felt untouchable.

So instead, Daryl focused on her hands, wiping away the blood that’d stained the grooves of her skin — and although she tried to conceal it, he could feel the slight tremble in her fingertips.

After he was done cleaning her hands, he sat back, his knee brushing against hers. He glanced up, flicking his hair away and studying the cut on her face — it’d stopped bleeding, though the edges were an angry-red, spiking his own temper once more. The collar of her shirt was soaked crimson, the color more muted in areas that’d already dried.

He hadn’t noticed the way their hands remained intertwined until Y/N squeezed softly, snapping him back to reality.

Daryl pulled his hand from hers and stood, grabbing the extra t-shirt off the table and dropping it into her lap. He scooped up the first aid kit before spinning around and stalking back towards the bathroom, giving her privacy as she began to change.

The archer avoided his reflection entirely, certain he’d see nothing but flushed skin and remorseful eyes. He squatted down, yanking open the drawer beneath the sink and tossing the kit inside. He gnashed his teeth together and grabbed onto the counter, his grip white-knuckled around the edge.

He needed to get a fucking hold of himself, that was for damn sure.

After regaining his composure, Daryl slammed the drawer shut with more force than necessary and pulled himself up in one swift motion.

But his entire body froze, his blood running ice-cold, when he noticed Y/N in the reflection of the bathroom mirror, standing in the doorway behind him.

Their eyes met through the glass before the archer twisted around, facing her head-on.

Her brow was furrowed as she stared at him, her head tilting to the side, the wheels in her mind visibly turning though her expression remained unreadable. She looked like she wanted to say something but didn’t quite know how to say it. She inhaled a breath, opening her mouth, but quickly snapped it shut — and then something different flickered across her features, an expression he hadn’t seen before.

Daryl waited for her to speak, to finally break the prolonged quietness that’d carried on.

But then she was suddenly crossing towards him.

He didn’t realize what was happening until Y/N’s lips crashed against his.

It was as though a dam had broken open — every fleeting feeling, every moment of suppressed longing coming to a head after dancing around one another for so long. At first, Daryl’s entire body went numb, his brain scrambling to figure out just what in the hell was actually happening. His breath caught in his throat as he stiffened instinctually, years of touch deprivation and self-consciousness clawing their way to the surface, leaving him paralyzed against her.

But when Y/N pulled back, breaking away from the kiss, he found himself craving her in the spaces she’d filled.

Her eyes were wide, boring into his, her gaze a mixture of shock and awe that he was certain mirrored his own — like even she couldn’t believe what she’d just done. She clung onto the collar of his shirt, the material balled in her fists.

Daryl’s chest heaved beneath her touch, his breathing syncing up with hers as they stared at one another, their noses only a few inches apart, each soaking the other in for what felt like the first time.

Something inside the archer fractured, right then and there. The wall he’d created inside his mind, the one designed to keep everyone at arm’s length, began to crumble. His guard fell to pieces, brick by brick, shattering at the very foundation he’d built it on.

And in its place…her.

Without any hesitation, Daryl slipped a hand behind Y/N’s neck and surged forward, closing the gap between them and bringing his lips to hers once more.

A soft gasp escaped her at first — one of surprise — the feel of it against his mouth sending a tingle down his spine before she returned the kiss with equal fervor. Her hands slid down his chest, snaking around his middle as she pressed herself against him with similar desperation.

He slid his hand up the back of her head, holding her in place as their lips parted, exploring each other with a deeper intensity. His fingers tangled throughout her hair, desperate to feel her in all of the ways he’d denied himself of, his other hand rising to gently cup the side of her face.

But when Y/N inhaled sharply, suddenly jerking back a fraction, Daryl’s eyes snapped open.

“Ow, fuck,” she hissed, her expression pinched.

“Shit,” the archer rasped, realizing then that his hand had brushed up against the cut on her cheek. “Ya alright?” he rumbled, pulling back further to get a better look.

Y/N let out a breathy laugh, her face lighting up in a way he’d never seen before. “Yeah,” she whispered hoarsely, her cheeks tinged pink, her lips red and slightly swollen.

Once again, Daryl found himself fighting to catch his breath.

He swallowed the thickness in his throat, carefully reaching forward and picking at a strand of hair that’d been swept out of place, tucking it behind her ear instead.

Y/N leaned into his palm, laying her hands against his chest, staring at him like she thought he’d hung the moon and painted the stars.

The look shifted into something deeper as she stepped back, ghosting her fingertips down each of his arms, his skin catching fire beneath her touch. She intertwined her hands around his calloused ones and began inching backward, slowly leading him out of the bathroom without another word.

The archer felt something stir deep inside him, a warmth settling in the pit of his stomach as she guided him towards the couch. He was entranced — like a man who’d been lost at sea for far too long, finally catching a glimpse of salvation from a lighthouse, beckoning him home.

And for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t afraid.

Daryl flushed at the memory.

She still had that same damn effect on him. It didn’t matter how much time passed, how many years went by, he’d never tire of her. She was, without a doubt, the best thing that ever happened to him.

He’d always felt out of place — even before the end. It was like everybody who’d ever lived was somehow born knowing the same song and dance — and yet there he’d been, stumbling along, fighting to catch up and fall in step with the rest of the world. It’d isolated him, made him feel weak and undeserving — like no matter how hard he tried, he’d never truly belong.

And now?

The only comfortable place his mind seemed to know was her.

Daryl fought back a wince, his entire body tensing up.

“Almost done,” Denise murmured as she continued stitching up the laceration on his back.

“Ya said that an hour ago,” the archer grumbled in response, grinding his teeth together.

“It definitely wasn’t an hour and you’re the one who refused the numbing cream, remember?” she countered evenly, her tone unwavering.

The archer merely huffed in response, fighting back a scowl as he gripped tightly onto the edge of the metal table he sat on top of. He ignored the feeling of Denise’s needle digging into his skin, closing up the knife wound he’d received back on the road, surveying the quieted house-turned-infirmary instead.

Rick was in the next room over, not having moved from Carl’s bedside since the survivors had taken Alexandria back from the dead. Glenn and Maggie were huddled together on the cot across the room while Michonne rocked Judith back and forth, exiting the infirmary with her a moment later. The others were gathered outside, recuperating after the long and harrowing fight that’d taken place mere hours ago.

And then there was Y/N — she sat on the floor beside his dangling legs, her head resting against the side of his knee, his vest laid out across her curled form. He could tell by her steady breathing and the way her head lolled every so often that she’d fallen asleep against him.

The entire community was running on little to no sleep, having fought through the night, taking on the herd that’d invaded their home — now, hundreds of bodies littered the streets, the wall that’d collapsed needed to be rebuilt, and those they’d lost during the attack needed to be buried.

Daryl glanced down when he heard a soft sigh, feeling his chest constrict as Y/N nestled closer.

She hadn’t strayed far since he’d returned and honestly, he wasn’t quite ready to be away from her either — especially after what happened on the road. Over the two days he was gone, he’d nearly lost his life on more than one occasion — and from what he'd heard, she’d nearly lost hers when the Wolves attacked.

But they were okay — she was okay — and that was what mattered.

Michonne reentered the infirmary a moment later, the exhaustion on her face mirroring his own. Judith, on the other hand, had fallen asleep in her arms, curled up against her chest, dark blonde wisps of hair sticking to her forehead.

“How’re you holding up?” Michonne asked softly as she approached the table, not wanting to wake Judith — or Y/N, for that matter.

“Jus’ a scratch, is all,” Daryl rumbled in response, peeking over his shoulder at Denise who remained focused on the wound.

Michonne nodded, rubbing small circles against Judith’s back. “I sent everyone home — Rosita and Heath are keeping watch where the wall came down. We’ll clear the dead once everyone gets some rest.”

“Alright,” Daryl rasped, a bone-deep tiredness beginning to seep in.

Before leaving, Michonne paused, looking down at Y/N’s sleeping form. When she glanced back up, her expression had shifted into something softer, something less tense. “She’s good for you,” she suddenly murmured, a small smile tugging at her lips. “You deserve that,” she whispered, reaching out and squeezing his hand, still latched around the edge of the table.

Daryl’s hand flexed beneath hers as he glanced down at the top of Y/N’s head — did he really deserve someone like her?

He’d spend the rest of his life wondering that.

Michonne patted the top of his hand before pulling away, disappearing into Carl’s room without another word, Judith still fast asleep against her.

“Alrighty,” Denise exhaled, drawing him back to the present. “You, my friend, are free to go.”

The archer grunted a gruff ‘thanks’ as she began cleaning up the supplies she’d used to stitch him up. He bit back a grimace as he pulled his shirt over his head, feeling the stitches stretch as he moved.

He reached forward then, gently ruffling the top of Y/N’s head, stirring her awake. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes before craning her neck and looking up, her bleary gaze meeting his. “All done?” she murmured, her voice slightly croaky.

“Mhm,” he sounded, sliding off the table and offering his hand to her.

The corner of her mouth quirked up as she grabbed it, allowing him to pull her to her feet. She swayed, fighting back a yawn, Daryl’s hand finding the small of her back and steadying her. Wordlessly, she held out his vest, which he slowly slipped back on, grinding his teeth together as a sharp jolt of pain shot across his shoulder.

Y/N’s brow furrowed as she watched him, her eyes narrowing — but before she could comment, Denise approached once more.

“Change the gauze in a couple of hours and take two of these for the pain,” she informed, holding out a small bundle of supplies, including fresh bandages and pills. “Doctor’s orders."

But Daryl waved her off. “Save ‘em,” he grumbled, carefully adjusting his vest.

He saw Y/N throw him a glance from the corner of his eye, though she didn’t protest — instead, she stepped forward and held her hand out.

Denise passed the supplies to her before lifting her glasses and rubbing one eye with the back of her hand, her fingertips stained red with blood. “Make sure he doesn’t do anything strenuous for a few days or he’ll tear the stitches,” she continued, speaking solely to Y/N as she set her glasses back in place.

Daryl huffed a breath. “M’ standin’ right here, ya know.”

Y/N nudged him in the ribcage, giving him a look that clearly translated to ‘be nice’.

Denise directed her attention back to the archer. “Don’t tear my stitches,” she reiterated emphatically before her expression eased. “Rest, relax, sleep — both of you.” She shot Y/N a pointed look before shooing them towards the front door, heading over to check in with Glenn and Maggie.

Y/N glanced over at Daryl once they were alone, her eyebrow quirking playfully. “I like this new side of Denise.”

The arched scoffed in response, flicking the hair from his face. “I liked it better when she was scared a’ me,” he grumbled as they fell in step, making their way out of the infirmary and back outside.

A laugh slipped past Y/N’s lips as they crossed over the porch. “Sounds about right,” she grinned, thoroughly amused.

“S’ true,” he shrugged his uninjured shoulder up as they made their way down the stairs and back onto the street.

“You know, you really aren’t that sc—”

Y/N stopped mid-sentence, her footsteps halting abruptly. Daryl faltered as well, glancing back at her, his brow knitting together. Before he could ask what was wrong, he realized what she was looking at.

In the light of day, the aftermath of the attack was startling. There were more bodies than he could count, rotted and decaying, bones torn through skin, blood spilling out onto the street, stark against the asphalt. The carnage was overwhelming, the reality of what they’d accomplished, as well as what they’d almost lost, suddenly settling in.

“We’ll fix this place up — make sure nothin’ like this ever happens again,” Daryl rasped, not entirely certain if he was trying to reassure her or himself.

Y/N’s expression turned solemn. “It’s not the dead I worry about,” she fixed him with a stare, her gaze flickering towards the wound on his back before she continued surveying the damage done to their community.

There wasn’t anything he could say that would make her feel better — not in a world as dark and void and meaningless as the one they lived in.

The only thing he could do was just be there.

Daryl reached for her, slipping his hand around hers and squeezing softly, drawing her back to him.

Although Y/N kept her eyes forward, he felt the tension leave her.

And then she squeezed back.

The archer huffed a breath, nestling the side of his thumb between his teeth.

Well, maybe the world wasn’t entirely meaningless.

Daryl stood still beneath the shower head, warm water washing over his body.

But he couldn’t focus on that — all he could focus on was Y/N, standing behind him, her arms wrapped around his middle, her bare chest pressed against his back. He closed his eyes, committing the feeling to memory — her heart steadily pounding against him, her cheek resting against his shoulder as water continued to cascade down their bodies.

She pulled back slightly, gently pressing her lips against one of the scars on his back.

Daryl felt a chill run down his spine despite the steam around him, fighting back the instinctual urge to stiffen — and as she moved to the next scar and the next, softly kissing each one, he couldn’t help but melt beneath her touch.

He turned then, feeling the tips of his ear redden at the sight of her before he quickly averted his gaze.

Y/N laughed, soft and sweet, reaching towards him and brushing the hair from his face.

Daryl caught her hand with his own, pressing her palm flat against the curve of his jaw. The cut on her cheek had healed, leaving only a faint, thin line below her eye. His own knife wound was still fresh, but in time, would heal as well.

He brought his hand up and gently brushed his thumb across the length of the mark before tilting her head back, bringing his lips to hers.

He wasn’t sure where the sudden boldness came from — still, Y/N returned the kiss, her arms snaking around his neck, his around her waist.

It wasn’t until the water began to run cold that Daryl, begrudgingly, turned the shower off.

They moved about in comfortable silence — drying off, changing into clean clothes, completing eerily normal and mundane tasks that had the archer wondering if he’d somehow transported into an alternate reality without realizing it.

But the blood and muck that’d washed off their bodies and collected at the bottom of the tub reminded him otherwise.

It’d taken three whole days to clear Alexandria of all the walkers that’d infiltrated their walls. Now, they could start rebuilding, reinforcing, doing whatever they needed to do to make sure an attack like that never happened again.

Daryl climbed into the bed he shared with Y/N, having moved up from the basement and into her room after that first night they’d spent together. He winced as he rotated his shoulder — despite Denise’s instructions to limit arduous activity, he’d worked the past three days from sun up to sun down in removing all the bodies from within the gates.

Y/N had tried to get him to take it easy, but he hadn’t — that just wasn’t in his nature.

She crawled into bed after him, sighing softly as she settled by his side, sitting with her legs crossed beneath her. She held her hand out towards him and in her palm, two pills — he recognized them as the ones Denise had given her.

Daryl huffed a breath.

“Don’t make me say ‘please’,” she warned, raising her brow expectantly.

The archer fought back the urge to roll his eyes but took the pills anyway, popping them into his mouth and washing them down with the bottle of water he’d left by the bedside. Y/N shot him a cheeky grin as she laid down, curling onto her side, facing away from him.

He reached over, wrapping an arm around her middle and dragging her towards him, eliciting a surprised laugh from her. She nestled closer, her back pressed against his chest, one hand clasped around his forearm, drawing absent circles against his skin with her thumb.

Daryl felt himself fading, slipping into unconsciousness after a long, tiring day of survival.

But just before the world darkened entirely, a whisper broke through the quiet.

“I love you.”

The archer’s eyes snapped open. Part of him wondered if Y/N was sleep-talking. An even bigger part of him figured he’d imagined it because there was no way — no way in hell — she could’ve consciously and deliberately said that to him.

But then she was shifting, rolling onto her back and looking up at him.

He searched her gaze for something, anything — a punchline, an explanation, a ‘hah, fooled ya!’ — that would explain what in the fuck he’d just heard.

Except that didn’t happen.

Instead, Y/N slowly nodded, like she was finally coming to terms with her own blatantly impromptu confession. “Yeah, I-I do — I —” she fumbled slightly in her admittance before steadying. “I love you,” she murmured, blinking up at him.

Daryl swallowed the lump in his throat, his mind screaming at him to say something instead of just staring at her like he’d seen a ghost. He could feel the words toying at the tip of his tongue — he wanted to say it, he did, because…well, of course. Of course, he wanted to. But it was like his body was physically rejecting a response.

Y/N patiently watched him struggle, giving him a second to get his shit together, a small, knowing smile playing at her lips.

The archer pushed up onto his elbow, clearing his throat, his cheeks burning red. “I, uh,” he grumbled, shaking his head slightly. “Y-Yeah, I —” he faltered, clearly struggling. But when his baffled gaze met her kind one, almost instantly, his wall of insecurity diminished. “Yeah,” the single word came out resolute and sure, everything he needed her to hear.

Y/N’s smile grew, stretching across her face, bright enough to light the sky on fire. “Yeah?” she asked softly, reading between the lines.

Daryl nodded once. “Yeah,” he rasped thickly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world — because it was.

He’d felt that way since the day he met her, even if he hadn’t known it.

She reached up, twisting her fingers in his hair and bringing his face down to meet hers, pressing a gentle kiss against his lips.

Then she was curling onto her other side so they laid chest to chest, her head tucked beneath his chin as she snuggled closer, his arms wrapping around her instinctually.

Daryl wasn’t sure how long they laid like that, limbs weaved around one another like coiled rope. But when her breathing evened out, he pulled back and snuck a glance, tracing every inch of her face as though the first time and the last. He brought his hand to her face, carefully brushing back the hair that’d swept over her features before leaning in and pressing a kiss against her forehead.

Then sleep came for him as well.

Daryl dropped his hand back into his lap, drawing his legs to his chest.

Being with Y/N was effortless — as easy as breathing. It came, somewhat alarmingly, natural to him. He’d never pictured himself with anyone ever. Before the end, before her, he’d been content to sit on the sidelines and watch all the relationships around him undoubtedly burn — it was all he’d ever known, it was all he’d ever seen.

But then she came along and flipped his entire world upside down.

A love that came without warning.

“Let’s get this shit loaded up — looks like it’s gonna rain soon,” Daryl rumbled, peering up at the darkening sky, noticing a cluster of bulbous clouds rolling in.

Y/N tilted her head back, following his gaze before humming a breath. “I don’t know — the wind’s blowing East. It might just miss us,” she remarked, catching the archer’s eye, a mischievous look flashing across her features. “Wanna make a bet?”

Daryl scoffed a breath in response, shutting the car trunk filled with scavenged supplies and adjusting the strap of the rifle slung across his chest — he was still getting used to the weapon. It felt unfamiliar in comparison to the weight of his crossbow. The reminder of his stolen weapon sent a flush of anger through his veins. He’d find those assholes someday and get it back, that was for damn sure.

“Come on,” Y/N grinned, drawing him back as she hefted another box over to him, dropping it onto the ground with a huff. “How about this? If it rains…I’ll take your watch shift tonight with Elizabeth.”

The archer quirked a brow, suddenly intrigued. Elizabeth was one of the original members of Alexandria — and she was…chatty. “Fine,” he nodded, opening the car door and lobbing the box she’d brought over onto the backseat. “She’s always yappin’ ‘bout books an’ shit I don’t know nothin’ ‘bout. Damn irritatin’ sometimes,” he grumbled.

Y/N laughed at his aggravation, turning to pick up another box. “I like her,” she shrugged, making her way towards him.

Daryl huffed a breath, waving her off. “Alright an’ if it doesn’t rain? What’d ya want?” he questioned, taking the box from her hands and sliding it into the car.

Before she had the chance to respond, Rick suddenly appeared, pushing through the front doors of the high school they’d been scavenging — it’d been turned into a FEMA evacuation center right at the beginning of the end. It’d somehow, miraculously, been left untouched — the doors and windows had been barred and chained, but luckily they’d had the tools needed to break in.

It’d been a little over a month since Alexandria had been overrun with the dead — the wall had been rebuilt and fortified, but the survivors had been hesitant to venture outside the gates after what happened the last time. Regardless, supplies were dwindling and a run had to be made.

“How’s it comin’ along out here?” Rick called as he jogged down the front steps and into the parking lot.

“Filled up the trunk pretty good — gonna need another car or two jus’ ta’ fit the rest a’ this shit,” Daryl remarked as the sheriff approached, motioning to the rest of the unpacked boxes lying around.

Rick came to a stop in front of them, one hand resting on top of the handle of his pistol strapped around his waist. “This is good — this is real good,” a rare smile spread across his face, so unlike the usual tension in his features.

“Tara’s finishing up around back — she’s grabbing the rest of the stuff from the greenhouse,” Y/N relayed to Rick, sharing a hopeful look with the archer. “We’ve got enough stuff to last us, I don’t know, at least another couple of months — that’ll be enough time to get some crops growing, maybe even a garden or two.”

Rick huffed a laugh in disbelief, shaking his head. “Who would’a thought,” he mused to himself before taking a breath. “Alright, I’m gonna grab a few last things inside an’ then we’ll lock up — come back tomorrow with a couple a’ cars an’ clean this place out.”

The sheriff left without another word, leaving Daryl and Y/N alone once again.

He began rearranging the boxes in the backseat, making sure there was enough room for two people to sit there on the way back home.

“A date,” Y/N suddenly spoke, catching him off guard.

Daryl straightened, turning back around to look at her, his brow knitting together. “Huh?”

The corner of Y/N’s mouth quirked up as she took a step towards him. “If I win, if it doesn’t rain today…I want you to take me on a date.”

The archer tilted his head to the side, trying to distinguish if she was joking or not. “Ya serious?”

“Yeah,” Y/N nodded, a sort of awkward laugh slipping past her lips. “I know it’s stupid — and given the way you’re looking at me right now, I know you’re thinking the same thing,” she laughed again as he quickly erased the skepticism from his expression. “But that’s —” she shrugged a shoulder up, “— that’s what I want.”

Daryl scratched the side of his head, flicking the hair from his face as he studied her, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back against the car. “That really what ya want?”

“Mhm,” she sounded. “And it doesn’t have to be anything special — just us and, I don’t know…maybe Aaron can whip up some of his famous spaghetti,” a soft smile grew on her face as she looked at him. “I, uh — I just — I want to do this right, you know?” her expression turned earnest. “I want those moments with you, Daryl.”

The archer felt a swell of warmth spread throughout him as he looked at her, feeling his resolve give way. “Alright,” he managed to rasp, his throat tight with emotion.

“Alright,” Y/N reiterated with a nod, sticking her hand out, a playful look in her eye.

Daryl snorted a laugh as he reached out and grasped her hand with his own, shaking once to seal the deal.

Y/N shot him a cheeky grin as she pulled from his grip. “We should —”

“Guys?” Tara’s voice suddenly sounded, drawing their attention.

Daryl knew as he pushed off the car, as he turned around that something was very wrong — he could hear it in her tone.

It took a moment for him to fully register the scene before him — a wide-eyed Tara just a few feet away, standing straight as an arrow, holding her hands up near her head.

Then he spotted a man.

The stranger stood just behind Tara, one arm wrapped around her neck, the other holding a gun, the barrel pressed against her temple. He was young, maybe early twenties, though it was hard to tell with all of the blood coating his skin. He peered over Tara’s shoulder, his frantic gaze bouncing wildly back and forth between the archer and Y/N.

Daryl’s protective instinct kicked in as he took a step forward, drawing the man’s attention, keeping Y/N out of his line of fire. His hand automatically reached for the rifle strapped around him but his movements stilled when the man’s eyes widened, his arm tightening around Tara’s neck.

“Hey, take it easy,” Daryl held out his hands in front of him.

“Move,” the man growled, jerking his head to the side. “Away from the car.”

Daryl felt Y/N grab a fistful of material from his shirt, slowly pulling him back as the man moved towards them, keeping Tara in front of him to conceal his body.

A tense standoff of sorts stretched on as they maneuvered around, the man never taking his eyes off of Daryl. When the stranger made it to the driver’s side of the car, he unwound his arm from around Tara’s neck, using it to open the door instead — though his finger remained twitching above the trigger. Once the door was opened, he faltered, realizing he’d lose the coverage of Tara’s body if he tried to get inside.

“Take it,” Y/N suddenly spoke, stepping out from behind Daryl with her hands near her head, drawing the man’s attention.

The archer shot her a sharp glance. “Y/N —”

“Take the car, take the supplies, take whatever you need,” she continued calmly, ignoring Daryl’s growled protest. “Just let her go, okay? No one’s here to hurt you.”

The stranger’s expression shifted, the animalistic look on his face shifting into something that resembled more of a quiet desperation than anything else. “I —“ he shook his head quickly, shifting back and forth. “I just need — I just need to go — I need to go.”

Y/N took another step forward, the side of her arm brushing against Daryl’s. “Okay,” she nodded, exhaling a breath. “That’s okay — just let our friend go and —”

Her sentence was interrupted by the front door of the school swinging open.

Daryl whipped his head around, feeling his stomach drop when he spotted Rick walking out with a stack of boxes — but when the sheriff noticed the standoff happening just down the steps, the boxes came crashing down, falling out of his hands, and instead…he grabbed his pistol.

It was as though everything happened in slow motion.

The stranger’s expression twisted as his sights set in on Rick — he swung the barrel of his gun away from Tara, who instantly dropped to the ground as the man pointed the weapon up the steps, and then…

A barrage of gunfire sounded as Rick and the man began shooting at one another in rapid succession. The sheriff used the front door as a shield, attempting to fire from around the frame, the awkward angle throwing off his aim. The stranger, on the other hand, fired away in no particular direction — his aim was erratic and panicked as he tried using the car door as coverage.

When a bullet flew past the side of Daryl’s head, he dove towards Y/N. He knocked her off her feet and onto the pavement, attempting to take cover from the shootout. The archer flipped onto his back, fumbling for his rifle before finally getting a grip and pointing it at the man.

But before he could take a shot, the stranger threw himself into the car, slamming the door shut, bullets from Rick’s pistol embedding into the metal. He peeled recklessly out of the parking lot, still firing from out of the opened window as he made his getaway.

Despite one of the back tires exploding after getting hit with a stray bullet, the stranger kept driving, disappearing onto the main road and out of sight, leaving a wake of destruction in his path.

“What the fuck?” Tara called from where she’d taken cover.

“Is everybody alright?” Rick yelled back, coming out from behind the door and running down the steps.

Daryl twisted onto his side, looking over at Y/N. “Hey, ya alright?”

“Y-Yeah,” she murmured shakily, pushing up onto her hands and knees. “I’m okay.”

The archer let out a sigh of relief, climbing to his feet and surveying the damage done around them as Rick appeared at his side.

“What an asshole,” Tara swore, coming to a stand as her eyes bounced between Rick, Daryl, and Y/N. “Seriously, what kind of —”

Daryl looked over at her, waiting to hear the rest — but that was when he noticed her staring at something just behind him, the horrified expression on her face filling him with a vast and all-consuming sense of dread.

The archer spun around.

And that was when he saw her.

Y/N stood a few feet away, swaying unsteadily, her hand pressed tightly against the center of her stomach. Her head was lowered, bowed to her chest as she slowly pulled her trembling hand away, revealing a stark redness pooling from her midsection, staining the front of her shirt. She looked up then, her eyes meeting his, the shock in her gaze surely mirroring his own.

“No,” Daryl whispered, the word sounding strangled in his throat as Y/N’s knees suddenly began to give out. “No!” he roared, rushing forward and grabbing onto her before she could collapse.

His arms slipped around her middle before he carefully lowered her onto the ground, her head drooping down against his shoulder. His heart pounded so violently against his ribcage, part of him wondered if it was giving out on him entirely — maybe it was. Maybe this was what dying felt like. Maybe this was what it felt like to have your soul ripped straight out of your body.

Daryl cradled the back of Y/N’s head with one hand as he laid her down flat against the pavement, her eyes wide and unseeing, staring straight up at the sky. “Hey, hey, look a’ me, jus’ look a’ me,” he urged, brushing the hair back from her face, ignoring the blood now staining his hands — her blood.

“I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay,” she mumbled, repeating it over and over again as though she could will it to be true — though her skin grew more ashen with each minute that slipped by.

Rick suddenly kneeled on the opposite side of Y/N, taking a piece of cloth and holding it against the wound. “Keep pressure on it,” he instructed Daryl and although he tried to conceal it, the archer could hear the way his voice wavered. “You jus’ hold on, Y/N, understand? We’re gonna get you outta here,” he promised, reaching down and squeezing one of her hands before disappearing.

Daryl watched him leave, dragging a teary-eyed, slack-jawed Tara along with him as they began frantically searching the abandoned parking lot for any working vehicles — it was their only chance at getting her back to Alexandria.

And if they didn’t…

No.

No, he couldn’t go there.

Instead, he pressed the cloth against the gunshot wound, attempting to stall the blood flow, the pressure eliciting a pained whimper from Y/N that almost made the contents of his stomach reappear. “I got ya, Y/N, I got ya,” he rasped, grabbing her limp hand with his own and intertwining their fingers, holding his other hand firmly against her stomach.

His words seemed to bring her back to him, her hollow gaze shifting into one of panic — like she only just realized what was happening. Her features crumpled, a flash of fear skirting across her face as the shock began to wear off. “Am — am I dying?” she managed to choke out, her eyes filling with unshed tears as she looked up at him.

“No,” he shook his head resolutely, feeling moisture build in the corners of his own eyes. “No, ya ain’t goin’ nowhere, ya hear me?” his grip tightened around her hand — like his touch alone could keep her there with him. “We’re gonna get ya back ta’ Alexandria an’ — an’ get ya patched up, good as new, alright? Ya jus’ gotta hang on for me, girl.”

Y/N’s bottom lip quivered as a tear snaked down the side of her face. “I-I don’t want to leave you,” she whispered, a sob hitching in her throat.

“Hey, it’s gonna — ya gonna — jus’ — Rick!” Daryl suddenly bellowed, sitting back on his haunches and desperately scanning the area for any sign of him or Tara. He spotted them at the opposite end of the parking lot, running from car to car, searching for keys or at least a way to jumpstart one of the abandoned vehicles.

But luck was not seeming to be on their side.

Daryl let out a vicious string of curses before focusing back on Y/N. He’d never felt so helpless in his entire life — and God, if he could, he’d take her place in a second.

She was fading — fading so rapidly it made him dizzy. Her skin was cold to the touch, her lips tinged a disturbing shade of blue, her eyes lacking the warmth he was so used to seeing. He felt a swell of emotion rise in his throat, threatening to consume him, but he shoved it down.

“Hey, y-you were right,” she murmured weakly, the corner of her mouth twitching up as she tilted her head to look up at the sky once more. “I think it’s gonna rain.”

Daryl felt a tear spill down his cheek as he followed her eye line, the previously blue sky now blanketed with thick, dark clouds. He huffed a humorless laugh, their conversation from a few minutes earlier ringing through his mind, somehow seeming like an entire lifetime ago. “Guess that means ya — ya gotta take watch tonight, right?” he rasped despondently, keeping his gaze towards the sky.

He stilled when he was met with nothing but a deafening silence.

He felt his stomach roll as he squeezed his eyes shut, afraid of what he'd see if he looked down. “Y/N?” he whispered, his voice hoarse.

When she didn’t respond, Daryl knew.

She was gone.

His girl was gone.

And his entire world came crashing down around him.

Daryl forced his eyes open.

His body went numb at the sight of her, his mind refusing to accept the image before him — empty eyes, grey flesh, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth. Her hand slipped from his grasp then, dropping onto the pavement beside her unmoving form as she continued staring vacantly up at the sky.

His brain couldn’t process what was happening — where he was, what he was doing, why he was there. It felt like a nightmare — a reality that wasn’t quite reality, warped and desolate and consuming him whole. The only tangible thing he felt was a sharp, physical pain in the center of his chest, his breaths short and hitched, causing black spots to dance in his vision.

Over the blood rushing to his ears, he could just barely make out the sound of a car engine, the noise muted and dull as it approached…

But it was too late.

They were too late.

Daryl reached for her hesitantly, hands trembling as he wound his arms beneath her back and carefully scooped her up off the ground, falling back slightly as he pulled her body across his lap. When her head lolled listlessly to the side, he brought his hand up, brushing his bloodstained fingers through her hair before cradling the back of her head, pressing his cheek against hers.

“Ya said —” he squeezed his eyes shut, rocking back and forth as his grip around her lifeless body tightened. “Ya said ya were okay,” he choked out brokenly, his own shock slowly wearing off as something deep inside his soul fractured.

Then he broke.

And the sky opened up and wept alongside him.

The sound of barking drew Daryl back to reality.

He glanced over his shoulder, quickly blinking away the tears that’d formed, spotting Dog trotting towards him. The German Shepard’s tongue hung lazily out of his mouth, his easy pace picking up the closer he neared, letting out another short bark.

Daryl rumbled a laugh as Dog came to a halt at his side, plopping down next to him. “Hey, boy,” he rasped softly, scratching behind his dog’s ear and earning a sloppy lick in return He wiped away the moisture from his cheek as the canine laid down beside him with a huff. “Good, Dog.”

The archer ran his fingers through his sleek fur, feeling his throat tighten. When he’d found the German Shepard a few years back, he’d remembered the conversation with Y/N from back at the prison — and it’d only felt right to name him ‘Dog’.

It’s what she would’ve wanted — and somehow, it made him feel just a little bit closer to her.

“Man, she would’a loved ya,” he whispered thickly, sighing a long and heavy breath.

Daryl looked forward once more, studying the small gravestone in front of him — her gravestone.

For a long time, he stayed away. He hadn't been able to go near where she'd been laid to rest, he just couldn’t — it was too fucking painful, like part of himself had been buried right along with her. But over time, the grief became easier to manage — it never went away, it'd never go away — but he found a way to exist alongside it.

Now, he found a strange sort of peace here.

It’d been years since he’d lost her — she’d been gone for longer than he’d known her. It was hard to keep track of time these days, they seemed to come and go without rhyme or reason. So much had happened since that day — the war against the Saviors, the looming threat of the Whisperers, losing friends, family, Rick…

Time seemed to move differently after losing the people loved most.

After that day at the high school, Daryl had tried to find the man responsible for what happened to Y/N — he’d gone back to the high school, wild and unhinged in his grief, hellbent on retracing their steps and tracking down the stranger. He’d needed revenge, bloodshed, he’d needed the man to know what he’d done, who he’d taken from the world.

Despite the improbability, the archer had no trouble finding him.

The back tire that had been blown out during the exchange of gunfire had sent the car careening down an embankment and into a large tree less than a mile from the school. One of the branches had broken through the windshield and punctured the man’s chest, most likely killing him on impact.

He’d reanimated still strapped in the driver’s seat.

Daryl left him that way.

It wasn’t the ending he’d hoped for, but maybe it was the ending he deserved.

He reached down, absently stroking the top of Dog’s head, and inhaled a deep breath.

Not a single day went by without the thought of her.

She came and went — like a flash of light or the beat of a heart. Daryl had barely had any time to hold onto her before she was gone — and he would’ve held her so much tighter had he known it’d be the last chance he’d have.

Some people were just too bright to stay, too good for what the world had become — at least that’s what he told himself on the really dark days.

The archer closed his eyes, imagining her at his side — sometimes if he sat like that for long enough, he could almost hear her voice, her laugh, he could almost feel her warmth, her touch — and it was like she was still there, sitting right beside him.

It wasn’t the same, but it was enough — at least until he could be with her once more.

Daryl opened his eyes, peering up at the vast night sky, and released the breath he’d been holding.

Someday, he’d find his way home again.

Fin.

A/N: ...hi...how y'all doin'? lol

So yeah, this is a lot to unpack. If you've made it to the very end, THANK YOU! I know this was a super-dee-duper-long oneshot but hopefully (heartbreak and all) it was worth it.

Most of this story was purely self-indulgent - I mean, come on, who doesn't want this kind of love? But aside from that, I also wanted to write a relationship for Daryl that felt authentic and true to his character (*cough cough* definitely not throwing shade at 10.18...nope...not at all...lol)

What also made this story super fun was the fact that I was able to incorporate other characters from over the course of the series! (Even though he's only in it for .2 seconds, Abraham is probably my personal favorite lol I'd never written for him before, and damn, is it fun!)

I also like the little 'twist' at the end when we realize that in the present parts of the story, he's been hanging out at the reader's grave the entire time, reminiscing. Ow, that hurts my heart.

After writing this for months, I was the last person who wanted to see the story end like this. I honestly grew super attached to this relationship and part of me contemplated ending it on more of a 'happy' note...or as 'happy' as you can get with a show like this one. But this was the ending I'd envisioned from the beginning. We got to experience a Daryl x Reader relationship from the very start to the very end. No open-ended questions, no 'what ifs'.

And I think that's sorta beautiful.

P.S. Feedback is incredibly important. I write for my own happiness, but I also write for YOU. So don’t be afraid to shoot me an ask or leave a comment with your thoughts! It truly motivates me and helps move along the writing process. Also, please consider donating to my Tip Jar. Every little bit helps!

P.S.S. I can no longer tag people on this account, so my tag list has been transferred to my side blog @crossbowking2. If you'd like to be added/removed, please let me know!

[descendantofthesparrow]

Interlude - Rewrite POYW - Harry Hook x reader - part 2 - preparations

*i realized today was Saturday and was like “oh holy shit time to post part 2!! so enjoy!* 

=

*felt like doing another episode entrance to this so deal with it*

-a camera pans from Auradon to the isle of the lost, zooming in on a large ship that held the symbol of Harriet Hook, the camera zoom fades into Harriet watching her crew move around the deck, a small stack of papers in her hand-

Harriet glanced up suddenly as Xiaohui slid down from rope as she switched out with another member of the crew for lookout in the crow's nest “what ‘cha got there captain?” she hummed, stepping next to Harriet and leaning over to look at the papers.

“just stuff that king beasty sent me, something about guardians for the twins, Sammy, and CJ” Harriet muttered, folding the papers and shoving them into her inner jacket pocket. “apparently because im a legal adult” Xiaohui rose her brow in confusion and Harriet waved it off “Auradon thing I don’t know, but since I’m an adult, they think that I can be the twin's guardian and they are trying to see if I can be CJ’s at the same time since im her sister n stuff” Xiaohui nodded a bit and looked back at the crew, most of which was getting the new supplies of food and water into the lower decks for safekeeping.

“I’m slightly impressed that (y/n) girl actually kept her word” Xiaohui hummed, crossing her arms and leaning on Harriet a bit, who pushed her back with her shoulder “like only a week ago the king announced the new program for us getting better shit and its already in full effect.”

“I think (y/n) scares whoever's in charge of that stuff and made ‘em work faster” Harriet snorted, remembering when she had passed by the main market almost everyone was whispering about the Auradon girl that had kicked her father's ass and left him as an amputee.

“well, she sure scared the fuck out me when she went apeshit on your dad” Xiaohui chuckled, pushing off the rails of the ship and about to walk towards the crew as they began to head out for another shipment “so how long do you think it gonna be before they get the next group of kids off” Harriet looked off for a moment.

“well with the letter Harry sent me, they are aiming for at least within the month, and at most within the next two, but first they got to get the guardian shit out of the way first” Xiaohui nodded, glanced back at the crew then back at Harriet, “I think once we get over there, I’ll be able to help out with choosing more kids to come over to Auradon, Evie might have her heart in the right place but she hardly even knows any kids, I have a lot more tabs on everyone on here and will be able to help get those who need it more off first.”

Xiaohui nodded again, understanding that the crew would probably be left on the isle for a bit longer just to make sure everything was running smoothly on their side, to make sure no one ruined a single kids chances at getting a better life. “now go on, Im pretty sure Sammy’s about to trip over nothing there”

Xiaohui turned and sighed, running over to Sammy and catching his arm just as he stumbled forward, she chided him as they walked off the ship and towards the barges again to collect the last of their shipments.

Harriet let out a small sigh and took out the papers again, tapping her foot anxiously as she flipped through the “guardian” application copies that Ben had sent her just in case she wasn’t able to be the twins and CJ’s guardian, and they needed someone from Auradon to be their guardian.

'Application of guardianship

Child; Skipper Smee  - parent; Sam Smee

Guardian applicant(s) - Wendy Darling, Rapunzel Fitzherbert, Eric & Ariel Barnes’

'Application of guardianship

Child; Sterling Smee  - parent; Sam Smee

Guardian applicant(s) - Wendy Darling, Eugene Fitzherbert, Eric & Ariel Barnes’

'Application of guardianship

Child; Sammy Smee  - parent; Sam Smee

Guardian applicant(s) - Wendy Darling, Rapunzel Fitzherbert, Eric & Ariel Barnes’

Harriet raised her brow at the repeat of applicants, especially the Wendy Darling one, considering she dealt with her father and uncle Smee first hand. Though (y/n) had written on the blank side of the applications that Wendy had applied for that exact reason.

She folded away the Smee papers and looked at her little sister's Guardian application.

'Application of guardianship

Child; Calista Jane Hook - parent; James Hook

Guardian applicant(s) - Wendy Darling, Eric & Ariel Barnes, Tiana Maldon’

Once again Wendy Darling and freaking King Eric and Queen Ariel had applied to be a guardian of her “family” Harriet sighed again and let her hands drop to her thighs, staring off at nothing as she thought about the upcoming future.

She broke out of her trance as a sheepish Dizzy stepped onto the deck, hands clenching tightly to her denim jacket “um…Harriet?” she squeaked, stepping forward a bit as Celia, Dr.Facilier daughter, pushed her towards Harriet “I-I was wondering if there was anything about…me in those papers King Ben sent you?”

Harriet brought up the papers again and flipped through them, nodding as she spotted Dizzy’s name on a guardian application and a blue envelope “yeah” Harriet muttered, handing the envelope to Dizzy and glancing back down at the application.

'Application of guardianship

Child; Dizzy Tremaine - parent; Drizella Tremaine

Guardian applicant(s) - Ella Charming, Fairy Godmother, Anita Radcliffe’

She handed the younger VK the application a moment later and the girl gasped as she read the names of the people who signed up to be her guardian “Cinderella? Fairy Godmother??” she squeaked, crunching the papers in her hand as Celia walked up behind her and looked over her shoulder “why would they-holy moly!!!”

“please just say fuck” Celia laughed, snatching the application from Dizzy and looking it over, curling her lip at all the other information details under the main application script. “wow that’s a lot of shit do to”

The guardian applicants had to fill out most of their information, sign waivers, and multiple other things just to be the guardian of a singular kid.

“oh, Harriet?” Harriet looked up at the call of her name and raised her brow as Dizzy held out the letter she had gotten from Evie, pointing at the back of it “there's some stuff for you on the back of the letter”

She grabbed it from Dizzy and started to read, not recognizing the handwriting but it had been signed by (y/n).

-Hey Harriet, so real quick all I need you to do is pick out who YOU would want to be your fams guardians (aka CJ, the twins, and Sammy) and we’ll pick out who we think is best with your opinion in mind. the kids are never obligated to interact with their guardians but I thought you would be more comfortable knowing exactly who the guardians were.

There are two pieces of blank paper in the envelope with Dizzy’s name on it, one for Dizzy to write back to Evie and one for you to write to me.

-see you soon, (y/n) (l/n)

Ps. Gil and Harry scream-said “hi”-

 Harriet snorted at the last bit and folded the letter back up and gave it back to Dizzy “ey Dizzy” the younger vk looked up at her with wide eyes, Celia peeking over her shoulder “who would you rather be your guardian, Cinderella, FG, or that Anita chick?” Dizzy looked off for a moment then shrugged.

“um, I don’t know?...I guess which everyone Evie picks out is okay?” Dizzy gave a slightly uncomfortable grin before jumping as Harriet's crew started to return and lug the last of the new supplies abord. “oh, um, I have to go, bye!” Before she could leave, Harriet grabbed Dizzy’s shoulder and grabbed the envelope from her, taking out one of the blank papers then letting the vk go on her way. Dizzy and Celia turned on their heels and raced off the ship, Dizzy’s letter from Evie clenched tightly in her hand.

Harriet hummed to herself and lifted the papers again, looking at the notes next to the guardian applicants that (y/n) had put.

She made eye contact with Xiaohui and nodded at her, the girl nodding back and taking command of the ship as Harriet moved to go into the captain's quarters. Sammy breathed a sigh of relief as Xiaohui took command, he might have been the first mate but he was horrible at being in control of things.

Harriet sat down at her creaky old cherrywood desk, grabbed a pen, and started to write.

-

“im still surprised that we actually got more people signing up to be guardians for the vks” you chuckled setting down the copy of Dizzy’s file and leaning back on Bens desk “I mean, almost all of them are repeats for the first round but my point still stands” Ben smiled and nodded.

“yeah, something about since the first round went well enough that people are not as averse to being guardians for the vks” Ben signed off a paper with a flourish of his wrist and set it aside. “though we might have to figure out something else as we go along, I don’t think there are enough adults in Auradon to claim every single kid on the isle, even if one person can claim two kids”

You sighed and nodded, rubbing the side of your head slightly “yeah, and at some point, we need to figure out another way to transfer kids off safely without having to go through the whole ‘guardian’ thing, because eventually, we will run out of guardians”

Gil, who had joined you and Ben for today's ‘vk shit’ meeting, looked up from his bowl of grapes “oh this reminds me of when Harry and I went to the animal shelter with Carlos, and-and um, there was a bunch of rooms for the cats n dogs n stuff and Carlos asked something about chips and the lady said that as long as the worker was licensed, they could claim the animal” he looked back down at his snack as you and Ben looked at him with wide eyes “what?”

“that-that was the weirdest thing you have ever said” you laughed, shaking your head a bit and crossing your legs at the ankles. Ben smiled at the blonde-haired vk and turned back to his papers, then popped his head back up with sparkling eyes and a wide grin.

“THAT’S IT!” you and Gil jumped slightly at his suddenly loud voice. Ben stood and pointed at Gil “Gil that is brilliant!”

You and Gil looked to each other then back at Ben “Ben please tell me you didn’t get an idea from Gil's weird rambling?” you laughed, leaning back a bit as Ben's grinning face turned to you. “you did….what is it then?”

“A shelter for vks!!!” Ben exclaimed, bouncing on his heels as he moved away from his desk and towards a large blue painted filing cabinet to the left of his desk. “here in Auradon! And I have just the place for it!!! And-and we can start an organization just for people to be guardians for vks! And we can figure out a system to have one person be responsible for multiple kids so we’ll never run out of them!” he rushed back to his desk and threw a set of building blueprints along with the deeds to the building.

You looked over the papers, raising your brows as you realized you were looking at a large castle that was written in Bens name “that…doesn’t sound like a bad idea?” you laughed, picking up the blueprints as Gil pawed at the deed. “in my world there's a thing called orphanages or foster systems, they kinda suck but usually there is one or two people in charge or responsible for sometimes over twenty kids, so this could work for our vks if we do it correctly and get good people” Ben grinned and nodded, grabbing the paper from you and shaking it in his hands.

“and-and! This castle, which was my parents, is in my name! I can do whatever I want with it! Let's turn it into the shelter! It's near the ocean too so these kids can see the real ocean every day and go swimming or build sandcastles whenever they want!!! And-and during the summer! Or warm days! I can hire people to take the kids on boat rids or-or!” you laughed and set your hands on Ben’s shoulders, calming him down a bit.

“Ben! Amazing ideas, love them, let's take it one step at a time, first we get Harriet and the others off” you gestured to the stack of papers for the six vks that held their information “then we start working on the shelter and the guardian organization, not baby steps, just one step at a time” Ben took a deep breath and nodded, the grin still wide on his face

“then let's finish up! All that’s left is choosing their guardians! Then we can send the limo next week!!!” he set down the castle blueprints and picked up two of the vk folders, handing you and Gil the last three “we got no time to lose!”

-

Celia slyly glanced up from her cards as Dizzy danced around her grandmother's hair salon, her aunt and mother busy working on some client's hair as Dizzy swept up the fallen locks. “now Diz” Anastasia, Dizzy’s aunt started to speak, the young vk immediately stopping in her little chore and looking to her “remember, while there will be people there that will accept you with open arms there will inevitably be people that will be out to hurt you” Dizzy’s shoulders dropped at the reminder and slowly nodded “that doesn’t mean we don’t want you going, it just means that even in Auradon it's not a fully safe space, there will always be assholes in every place” the clients ignored the surprisingly supportive talk from Anastasia and looked down at their torn magazines.

Dizzy sighed and nodded again “I understand” Dizzy smiled, starting on her chores again, though with less energy than she had a moment before. Celia looked away from Dizzy and shuffled her cards, laying them out on the table in front of her and closing her eyes, focusing her energy on Dizzy and hovering her hand over the cards.

In her mind's eye, three cards seemed to glow. She quickly picked them out and flipped them over to show their art. Celia opened her eyes, and looked at the first card, which symbolized Dizzy’s past.

The reversed fool. Celia furrowed her brows; Dizzy had been taken advantage of? When? Then again, Celia hummed looking to the next card, this was the isle, being taken advantage of was a daily thing, especially for someone like Dizzy who sometimes could be a bit airheaded.

The next card, which symbolized Dizzy’s present, was the upright chariot. Dizzy was heading in the right direction then huh? She was going to Auradon soon after all. Celia looked to the last card, which symbolized Dizzy’s future.

The upright sun. Celia nodded again, Dizzy’s adventures in Auradon would be successful then, all the more reason to see if she could stay on Dizzy’s good side even after she left for Auradon so that maybe one day Celia could have that success as well.

“watcha doin?” Dizzy asked suddenly, peeking over Celia’s shoulder as the younger VK jumped and threw herself over her cards. Celia looked back at Dizzy with a pout.

“if you have to know” Celia sighed, pushing off the table and gesturing to the now strewn about cards. “I was reading your fortune, I got curious” Dizzy hummed at that and kneeled next to Celia slightly, looking at the cards that were still facing up.

“what do they mean?” Dizzy asked, picking up the upright chariot and tilting it in her hands.

“just stuff from your past, present, and future. Your past is not the best, your present is going in the right direction, and your future is bright, that’s basically what those say” Celia held out her hand, Dizzy setting the card and a few coins in her hand “uh-“ Dizzy grinned.

“well you did read my fortune, and I remember you said you never read without a payment!” Celia stared at Dizzy as the girl skipped over to her chalkboard with all her chores on it and checked off the sweeping chore. Then she started cleaning the windows, picking up a rag and a spray bottle with a blue liquid chemical in it.

Celia watched for a moment before looking at Dizzy’s aunt and mother, who finished up with their last clients and sent them along, getting their payment and reminding Dizzy to close up properly as they went upstairs to the family's apartment.

“Hey, Diz” Celia started, fixing up her cards and putting them into her hip cardholder. The older vk hummed and turned to look at Celia “you…you aren’t gonna forget me once you get to Auradon…will you?” Celia, while her original intentions with Dizzy were ill-intentioned and she just wanted to get a leg up on a future in Auradon by being friends with the vk that had connections already, but Dizzy was just that kinda person you couldn’t be fake around, and Celia had come to genuinely care for her.

Dizzy’s face bloomed into a bright smile that could blind the sun and she set down her rag and bottle, skipping over to Celia and hugging her tightly. Celia froze at the sign of affection and moved to push Dizzy off but stopped herself as Dizzy pulled back and shook her head “of course not! Once I get to Auradon I’ll make sure you’ll be the next one off, just after me! I would never leave you here willingly.” Celia felt her nose and eyes burn and she quickly twisted around, wiping her face as Dizzy giggled.

“sap” Celia chuckled, letting out a small breath as Dizzy slammed into her and wrapped her arms around Celia, shaking them around a bit “hey hey come on” Dizzy giggled again and released the young shadow witch, skipping back over to the rag and bottle and resuming her chores.

Celia let a smile grow on her face as she bopped her head to the song Dizzy started to hum as she took out her pocket watch and checked the time. “oh shit it's late, I got errands to do, bye dizzy!” Celia grabbed her bag and bolted out the salon door, rushing towards the market to grab a couple of things for her “boss”

Well, less boss and more someone who just hired her to grab stuff for him because he was a hermit and didn’t like going outside his little underground hidey-hole.

Celia skidded to a stop as she spotted the short ombre blue hair of Hadie, the son of Hades. Aka the son of her “boss”. Hadie was a tall, oddly buff, blue ombre haired, punk-styled villain kid, the oldest on the isle at that at, being born before Hades had been shipped off to the isle.

“hey,” she muttered, reaching around him and grabbing a couple of peaches, that were not bruised thanks to the fresh shipments that were coming as of late, from in front of the much larger vk. Hadie glanced down at her and opened his messenger bag, allowing Celia to dump the fruit into it. “what’ca here for?”

“stuff” Hadie simply replied in his usual dry tone, following Celia as she started to travel the merchant stands, grabbing what Hades had requested from her and letting her dumb the items into his messenger bag.

One of the merchants, which Celia had stolen from before on her own time, sneered at her, flinching back as the spotted Hadie just behind her just staring at him. The merchant looked away as Celia took two cans of corn and dumped them into Hadie’s bag, skipping away with the older vk following her.

“why does he let her do that?” one of the market keeps whispered to their friend, who shrugged and looked back down at her stock of oranges.

“dunno, but it keeps the creeps off of her and keeps a fight from breaking out so who am I to care?” Hadie glanced at them but kept pace behind Celia, scrunching his nose slightly as one of the merchants leered towards Celia, the merchant reeling back as Hadie flashed his pocket knife.

Celia smirked to herself knowing that Hadie was subtly protecting her as she picked up things for his dad, and with a snatch of some packs of water, she was done for the day. “come on!” she yelled back towards Hadie, who grabbed a small pack of blueberries and followed after her, digging his key to the opening of the mineshafts that lead to his dad's lair out of his pocket. Celia bounced on her heels as Hadie opened the gate and followed him inside.

The two foregoed the bicycle contraption and just walked down the length of the tunnel that lead to the main area, Hadie taking one of the water packs from Celia and hoisting it onto his shoulder.

He ignored the echoing bark that blasted in his ear as he passed by a speaker that his dad made him set up a couple of years ago to keep trespassers out. He and Celia finally made it to the main living area and Celia skipped down the wooden steps, setting one of the water packs on the large metal table in the next room.

Hades looked away from the fading tv and raised his brow as Hadie let Celia snatch the bag from around his neck and take out the items she had taken from the market. “you get everything kids?” Hades teased, standing and walking over to the vks, ruffling his son's hair and laughing a bit as the just shorter Hadie smacked his hand away. “yep” Celia nodded, turning and holding out her hand to Hades, who dug into his jacket, pulled out a small red velvet pouch, and dropped it into her hand, Celia tugged it open as Hadie reached around her to grab a small peach and moved to plop into his dad's makeshift minecart seat. Celia nodded five rubies and several silver coins. “pleasure making business with cha’” Celia held out her hand, grinning as Hades gave it an exaggerated shake and skipped out of the lair, leaving the two gods behind.

She skipped all the way back to the hair salon and moved into the alleyway just next to Hades restaurant. Celia knocked a specific rhythm on the spray-painted door with the words ‘Pa Deranje’ on them. As it slid open Celia slipped through and ran into the quiet arcade her dad manned when school was out for the summer.

“Daddy~!” Celia cheered, running towards her father as he spotted her and held out his hands to lift her up and around.

“Cher~!” he called back, setting her back on her feet and wrapping his arms around her shoulder “so how was the hussle tonight?”

Celia grinned and held up the red velvet bag, her father grinning and holding out his hand. Celia dropped it into his palm and sat down at his fortune reading table, gasping happily at the steaming bowl of food that was resting in front of her.

Her father gestured for her to eat as he dug into the bag, nodding to himself as he saw the inside. He took out the silver coins and set them in front of Celia, stashing the rubies away for safekeeping as they were a higher currency on the isle.

“mmmhmm!” Celia hummed happily around her food, kicking her legs as she took another full bite of the soup-like meal. “what is this?!”

“good ol’ Gumbo my dear” Facilier took a seat in front of her and dug into his own bowl of Gumbo. “found all I needed to make it with at the market, thanks to those shipments” Facilier laughed at his daughter as she eagerly downed the gumbo, reaching out slightly to slow her “now slow down there cher, it’s a bit strong” Celia glanced at him and obeyed, setting the bowl back down and swallowing her current mouthful of food. “now after this you head straight to bed, it’s almost nine am and you’ve been up since eight yesterday” Celia went to object but stopped as her father gave her a look.

“fine” she pouted, smiling behind her bowl as he nodded and reached out to tweak her ear.

The two finished their “dinner” in comfortable silence, Celia finished first and stood from the table, giving her dad a quick kiss and hug before running up to the apartment where she and her dad stayed.

Facilier sighed and took the two empty bowls and followed Celia up the apartment, counting down from 5 and nodding as the telltale sign of Celia’s room door closing sounded just as he reached 0.

While the isle was just a bit better nowadays, thanks to the program that Hooks sons girl had started, he still hoped one day his little girl would be in Auradon one day and never have to worry about where her next meal would come from.

“one day cher” Facilier whispered to himself, setting his top hat on the hat rack and moving to his room “one day you’ll get your cut.”

-end of part 2-

here it is! part 2!!! hope yall liked it, and yes, Dr.Facilier is a good dad, i liked that in the OG D3 so thats what i kept, Hades is kinda an asshole but Hadie is Persephone's kid he’s gonna love and tease the young punk looking god to death, Dizzy's aunt is kinda nice, grandma still ain't but Anastasia was redeemed twice in the Cinderella sequels. anyway yeah tell me what u think and i hoped yall liked! part 3 next Saturday! 

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[bowieandqueen11]

I’m An Idiot / Richie Tozier Fluff

Request: Hi! I was wondering if I could have a Richie x reader (18 years old) where he has had a crush on the reader since the whole IT situation but never acted on it until he hears they are moving to go and attend college and it’s a whole sweet thing where he is outside her house practicing what to say and she hears it through her window or something? Idk if that’s clear or not. Thank you! Also I LOVE your writings! Hope you have a wonderful day/night! 💕 

It’s been so long since I’ve written for Richie holy moly but this is so cute!!

Warning, some strong language!

Reblogs and comments much appreciated!

Richie Tozier couldn’t stop hopping.

When he woke up, shoving his duvet on the floor and grabbing the first Hawaiian shirt laying askew on his desk chair, he was shaking. When he shoved Eddie’s face out of the way as he tripped over him on the way to his door, he was trembling, although Eddie only snorted and rolled over in his sleeping bag to go back to snoring. If he knew that he was actually doing this, if Bill knew, although he was still sprawled out and half falling off the beanbag, that he was finally going to muster up the courage to confess to you before you left the Losers, he would never hear the end of it. When he shut the front door, squeezing his lips together so as not to wake his parents, he was beginning to jump from foot to foot.

‘Come on, Tozier, you fought a child eating clown. You’ve got the high score on every game in the Arcade. Heck, you’ve even made Eddie Spaghetti laugh out loud and spit his milkshake all over Ben’s face. You’re hilarious, you’re a fantastic catch-’

Kicking a can off of the road, he sighed to himself as he passed Derry library, his breath fogging up his glasses in the early modern light.

‘Who are you kidding, you’re just a Loser. She’s totally going to reject you. Shit!’

Crunching over the grass by the school, he finally hopes on his breaking down, creaking bike, and fills the empty streets with the sound of his wheels spinning and his heart thumping with each cycle. The dew shines in the first rays of the rising sun, brightening his sneakers with a glint as his tracks leave their own footprints on the grass - the only path to show that had been there.

He didn’t mean to reach you at sunrise, but he had found himself sleepless last night. He had expected you round at the Losers’ sleepover last night, but you had to phone up late and inform him that you had to start packing. Mike had been the one to find him, just leaning his head against the wall with the phone still hanging limply in his hand. He had to place his hands firmly around his shoulders to pull Richie away, leading him back into the others with a tight grip, but Richie was gone, far away, as if he was disappearing in his grip like a ghost. Eddie was about to say something later that night, but the look of fear, and dejection on Richie’s face when he slipped under his covers and just turned his back to the others, made him stop and just settle down in his freshly pressed sleeping bag.

The morning, thankfully, wasn’t as grey, but soothing lavender and brilliant lander started to break out from behind the clouds, merging behind his raven hair into neon pinks and peaches.

Finally arriving at your house, he dumped his bike on your lawn and ran around to face your bedroom. Little did he know, that you were also awake, still thinking about your phone call last night. Placing your hand on your windowsill, you sigh as you just stop for a moment, ignoring the boxes in the corner of your eye and instead just leaning by your net curtains. 

Behind the glass, and the fabric, was the ever changing art of the sky, and the boy you couldn’t see yet below it, who was desperately trying to put into words the ever exploding feelings in his heart. There was such a feeling of nervousness, of joy, of electricity in the air, a sense that secrets were about to be whispered into the transitory and eternal air, changing and constant and not able to be swallowed in again.

Stopping suddenly, you start to hear a squeaking voice warble out from down below.

‘Y/n, these feelings I have for you are embedded in my - come on, are you five, that sounds so dirty. Even when a clown was trying to turn into a werewolf and eat my fear or whatever, or when we went into that crack house, I was never afraid, because you were with me. I’m scared, that if you go, I’ll vanish as well.’

You reach out towards your curtains and draw them aside softly. You have to blink away the sun for a moment as it comes in and bathes through the square of light in bright gold, warming the wood by your toes and bathing your face. You nearly choke with laughter at the sight of Richie Tozier pacing your garden, gesticulating wildly to himself as he swings about. He stops, nearly skidding as he throws his hands down in defeat.

‘We are two halves, but we make a whole- that’s so cheesy, you sound like Benny boy now.’

‘You’re my real family. You’re the only person who really actually gets me and I-I, shit man, you can’t do a Bill now. I love you. It’s just as simple as that. I love you, and I’m terrified. Damn, Trashmouth, that's not half bad.’

He nearly jumps out of his skin when you slide your window open and shout down at him.

‘Trashmouth, are you trying to wake the whole neighbourhood up?’

‘Why the hell are you up? I thought only creeps and nerds were up this early!’

‘Is that why you’re here?’

‘I thought I’d try out my new material on the best clown I know!’

A muscle twitches involuntarily at the corner of his right eye, his mouth forming a rigid grimace as he looks up at your raised eyebrows and slight smirk.

‘How much, exactly, did you hear of my musing?’

He folds his arms over his Freese’s shirt and flowing Hawaiian as he begins to hop from foot to foot again. Never one to keep still, he tries to keep his mind off your answer as you think above him. He tears his head away from your head, as it pops out the side of the window and dangles down at him like an angel floating in a halo of silver above his head, trying not to focus on the way your words would either see the dawn of his hope, or snap his dreams right in two. 

Instead he nudges his glasses a little higher on his nose, as if the thought the midnight rims should pay attention too - silently focusing together. 

‘If it makes you feel any better, I feel the same way too.’

‘W-what?’

‘Would you just get up here before my parents wake up?’

Richie doesn’t waste any time to grab a hold of the ivy climbing on the crumbling bricks, his feet slipping and sliding to try and keep up with his scrabbling as he tears up the side of your house. He’s so quick, you don’t know where he is until his nose bumps against yours, and he nearly collides straight against your mouth, the only thing barring the two of you being his glasses.

‘What did you just say?’

His expression is uncharacteristically serious, and yours is so bright in response. He wonders if you know how much that drives him crazy, how it makes him want to reach out and feel every curve of your skin, but instead he stays hovering a few inches away from your face, waiting for some miracle that his hearing quite hadn’t caught up with.

‘I said, I love you too, you idiot. What a time to tell me.’

‘Y-you love me?’

‘Would you hurry up and kiss me before you fall? Gosh knows you’ve waited about ten years too long.’

He rolls his eyes in that way he does when he's really happy but feeling too macho to show it, before he slightly wets his lips and lets himself fall forwards into your grasp. He melts into you, clumsily, and a little messily, but he manages to steady himself and reach up to cup your cheeks, lips desperate as they capture yours again and again, warm and tasting slightly like cherry, but so needy for you.

‘You’re right, I am an idiot.’ 

[animebw]

Binge-Reading: Fate/Stay Night VN, Heaven’s Feel Day 20

In which Shirou heads into the endgame with an unlikely ally, Kirei kicks all the ass, and a new hero is born.

Stopping Point: Dark Saber’s arrival

Ally and Enemy

It’s time for the final act of Heaven’s Feel, the conclusion to hundreds of thousands of words spilled across this entire VN. After all the mystery and misdirection, our final mission is comparatively simple: save Ilya, defeat the shadow, and keep Sakura from being swallowed up by the darkness of the Holy Grail. But Shirou’s gonna need some help if he wants to make it through this gauntlet alive. At this point, all of his allies have either died, been depowered, turned against him, or otherwise left him stranded. He is more alone now that he’s been throughout the entirety of this bone-crunching route. And you know what they say about desperate times: they leave you with no other choice but to team up with the laughably corrupt priest who’s philosophy on life makes you want to punch him in the face. Holy shit, we actually got the Shirou/Kirei team-up I never dreamed we’d have. They’re actually fighting on the same side. After spending this entire route actually being helpful for a change, Kirei’s truly putting his money where his mouth is and fighting alongside Shirou as they aim to take down Zouken at last. God, it’s fucking wild to see them working together. They both hate each other’s guts, and they know they’re going to turn against each other the moment their immediate goal is fulfilled, but they also trust each other enough to know they’ll happily have each other’s backs if it means taking this threat down. Sometimes, the enemy of your enemy really is your greatest ally.

Not that Kirei’s shy about pointing out the temporary nature of this contract. As he explains it, the one sure-fire way to save Sakura from being consumed by the grail- and Ilya as well, I might imagine- is to destroy the source of the grail itself. Remember, the dark shit turning these girls into grails is just the essence of the gateway; the grail itself, that serves as the source for those energies, has to be summoned separately into this world. And if Shirou can bring it crashing down, he’ll have a chance to rip Sakura out of her dark prison before it’s too late. But while Kirei’s totally on board to save Ilya if it means grinding Zouken down, he’s in no way ready to surrender the grail itself. He wants to see its glorious birth made manifest, to see exactly what kind of nightmare or dream breaks free from its cocoon. There’s actually a really interesting perspective he has in regards to it all: nothing is born naturally good or evil. We are brought into this world a blank slate, and our morality is determined by the knowledge we obtain. If someone turns evil, that’s the falt of whoever, or whatever, served as their tutor. So the cursed child in Sakura’s metaphorical womb is not inherently evil just because of all the darkness surrounding its birth; until it actually arrives in the world, there’s no telling what it’ll turn out to be. Perhaps it might even offer him the answers to the impossible questions he’s been seeking all his life. And he’s determined to do everything he can to ensure that birth occurs, even if it means sacrificing his own life in the process. A fitting end that would be to a man who could only ever see the path down into darkness.

Holy Moly

For now, though, the fake priest is mercifully on our side. And holy fucking shit, was it worth the wait to truly see him in action. Kirei’s not just handy in a fight, he’s a regular fucking badass! He’s mountain-climbing up the side of the mansion! He’s running through the forest at top speed! He’s carrying Ilya without slowing down a bit! He’s matching throwing knives with Assassin over and over again until he finally gets the opportunity to stab Zouken through the neck! And then he fucking “Puny God’s” Zouken’s mangled body against the stone until it’s nothing but mangled meat! And he finishes the false immortal off with a prayer badass enough to rival the UBW chant itself! Christ, when he dropped that final bomb of “Kyrie Eleison,” my head just about exploded. In a phantasmogoric flurry of retribution, Kirei just proved himself one of the most badass motherfuckers in the entire Fateverse, going toe to toe with legendary warriors and somehow pulling through alive. He even gets a chance to break apart the “Everything happens for a reason” mentality: ”At times, the trials of heaven made people realize how powerless God is.” If evil exists in this world that god won’t stop, it’s up to the heretics and unbelievers to exorcise it in his name. And Kirei just established himself as the biggest, baddest exorcist on the block. Shirou, I hope you’re ready for when this beast of a man finally turns on you.

A Hero Reborn

Speaking of Shirou, his mission to rescue Ilya runs into the biggest wall imaginable: Dark Berserker. If you thought regular Berserker was scary enough, then hooooooly shit is this writhing black-red impressionistic mass gonna give you nightmares. He’s even stronger, even more vicious, and will stop at nothing to rip this kid’s guts out with a single swing of his devastating blade. If Shirou wants to have any hope of stopping him, there’s only one option left. The impossible option. The option that’s sure to set him on a collision course with death should he choose it. But if he’s going to die either way, then he might as well go down fighting for the people he can still protect. For Ilya, for Sakura, for the countless lives lost in the fire so long ago, to atone for the sin of surrendering his ideals and choosing humanity over martyrdom (”I don’t have a reason! I’m just selfishly protecting you!”), Shirou’s only choice is to fight back with his biggest, most dangerous weapon of all. So at long last, he pulls back the sash on Archer’s arm. At last, his future self’s power flows into him. And it nearly fucking breaks him. It overwhelms him with fury and sound and sight, threating to tear him apart through sheer force of will.

But all the while, there’s a pulse beating at the back of his head, a voice that keeps coming back to answer the impossible question of why: just move forward. Keep moving forward. Walk and don’t stop. Make it to the end of this gauntlet. A voice that refuses to let him give up, no matter how desperately his body wants to give in. And who should be waiting at the end of the tunnel but Archer himself, the cynical bastard who told Shirou that following this road would be his doom. The man who said that throwing away his ideals would leave Shirou broken and hopeless. But this time, he merely offers a simple question: “Can you keep up with me?”

And Shirou, faced with the image of himself he needs to surpass, has only one answer: ”YOU KEEP UP WITH ME!”

Holy. Goddamn. Hotdogs. We’ve got another one, folks. Another entry in the pantheon of the coolest fucking moments in Fate history. In a burst of power, the old Emiya Shirou burns away in ash, and the Emiya Shirou born in its place is a warrior capable of standing against death itself. With Archer’s arm fully charged, he stands against Berserker, summons the giant’s own weapon, and breaks down the unstoppable Heracles with his own two hands. He brings an end to the titan of titans with a triumphant strike that rivals Excalibur itself for sheer hype factor. That. Was. Fucking. AWESOME. With his own power, with his own skills, with the once-in-a-lifetime chance he was given, Shirou fucking pulled through. He takes Berserker down at last, with the giant’s last gaze asking him to look after his old master. He stands reborn, on a collision course with death yet never more alive than he’s been right now. Now, there’s truly no going back. Shirou has chosen his fate, and he’ll see it through to the bitter end, through all the blood and suffering and misery, to end this miserable war once and for all. And with all this power, maybe he finally has a chance of saving Sakura after all. Maybe this impossible chance can be a miracle he forges with his own hands. Let’s just hope he’s ready for the countless trials still to come. Berserker, exit stage right. Saber? It’s your turn on the mic. Let’s see what kind of song you sing.

Odds and Ends

-”Let’s hope he doesn’t literally mean bury.” NO WAIT GO BACK WHAT’S THIS ABOUT THE VAMPIRES

-This poor taxi driver must be so confused

-”One more push? I am tired of hearing those words.” Lol, and Assassin’s just like “get on with it already.”

-”It would be strange not to love her.” One more time: FUCK YOU ZOUKEN

-”She’s begging me for help now! Good, good! It’s like we’re eleven years ago again!” I lied, we gotta say it a few more times.

-”It seems there is someone that foolish.” And that’s why over-confidence is bad.

-Okay, could we not slap Ilya to get our point across? Seriously?

-”But this should soften the landing- or nooooot!” Of all the times for Shirou’s ego to flare up, it’s not wanting to look lame in front of Kirei. I swear to god.

-”Even if we’re not blood-related, you’re still my little sister!” Take that, incest writers!

-”And let me correct you. I’ve done bad things too.” YOU SURE HAVE

Goddamn, this is gonna be good. See you next time!

[mockingjayne12]

👋🏼 friends. So. I broke my wrist yesterday doing a backhand spring in a charity video for Covid relief in my front yard. (True story) It was my “special skill” no one knows I can do. (That was the premise of the video & I used to be a gymnast) Nailed the first one... the second one nailed me. Full crunch fest. It looked like my hand was making a getaway from my arm. I couldn’t believe it. Went into major deep breathing and sobbing. And sobbing & breathing. Ambulance came and rushed me to the hospital. It was very scary to go it alone and to take ANY energy away from Covid patients right now & my little boy was home & him seeing me in so much pain. All the things. Thank you Joe & Anthony my wonderful paramedics fellas for telling me it was okay & it was a true emergency. They hated they had to wear masks because they want their patients to see their faces & are adjusting to the new normal. I could feel their caring energy mask et all. They got me through. Friends... It’s SO broken. And I’m very lucky. Could be much worse. Thank you Linda & Michael & @kristavernoff at #GreysAnatomy for helping my find my incredible ortho. Our healthcare heroes. And @stephanieschuster & @jacobskid for taking care of me. I am in tremendous pain. I’ve never broken anything or gone under or had surgery. Alas, 10 am tomorrow surgery commences. My spirits are high. Looking forward to relief and what my dreams will be like. Thank you to my healing community and outpouring of love from my sweet friends & family. Pain is a teacher. Healing inevitable. This too shall pass. One moment at a time. I’m much stronger than I thought. And just as I was getting antsy in the quarantine... the universe said be still a little longer. Sending love to you all and anyone in pain right now. I feel you. Any & all positive, healing energy vibes & prayers sent my way would be greatly appreciated in the next few days! Be well. ❤️🙏🏼😘.

Holy moly. My heart is so full and my arm is so swollen! Quick update: the surgery on my broken left wrist from charity-back-handspring-gone-wrong, went perfectly. Such ease. All your healing, loving, energy vibes were felt! Thank you to Dr. Modabber and his incredible team for taking such good care of me! I’m reading all of your sweet messages and feel completely overwhelmed with love & support. Have to say our #healthcareworkers are THE REAL HEROES. Honored to be in their presence today. Still in a lot of pain... let the healing begin. 🦾💕💪🏼.

[v-le]

Kmusic: JTBC’s 슈퍼밴드(Superband) Review

Foreword: SUPERBAND WAS AMAZING AND IT WAS EVERYTHING I NEVER KNEW I NEEDED IN MY LIFE. yup

--

After binge-watching this entire program, I knew I had to write something about it. This show literally took my breath away, this show filled all my senses with overwhelming excitement, appreciation, and respect for every single participant, and the music, THE MUSIC, that came out of this show will forever be some of the most amazing songs I have ever heard in my life. But above all else, this show filled a void, an emptiness, a traumatizing, painful longing in my heart that has been needing some intense healing for a while now.

With all the things that have happened with my singer, Superband coming into my life and being the show it was, with all those amazing artists doing what they did, it was a literal blessing and I just……. I just cant believe they did THAT. They did it and it was AMAZING.

First off, whoever thought to make an audition program for MUSICIANS, SINGER-SONGWRITERS, ARTISTS, PRODUCERS, and just instrument-playing people AND VOCALISTS…….. you are a fucking genius and I am so glad that this idea never died in the shadows and was allowed to come to life on the screens.

What I found so poignant about this show from the get-go was how GOOD THESE AUDITIONS WERE… these people came in being REALLYYYYY good at (presumably) one thing like the guitar, or singing, or the violin. These people each had their specialty, they were exceptional music-making people. No one was quite mediocre or “rookie”, each person had some pretty credible expertise or experiences with music, and that in itself, the fact that we got to start off with these sorts of contestants, is something ive never seen before.

I don’t want to compare to other singing shows or the Produce series or whatever else countless audition programs Korea has been churning out over the past years, but since Superband began with this concept, it was already a show that I knew I would LOVE. For the 2 times ive watched Produce, I was always so perturbed by these prepubescent pretty boys frolicking around on stage, barely being able to even pull off a simple note. I just thought so many of them were so TALENTLESS…. But who am I to judge.

I think it really just comes down to preference, and even though I knew very well that idols and k-pop are not even things I enjoy anymore, I forced myself through programs like Produce. But now, with Superband, I felt so HAPPY and glad to be watching and discovering such talented musicians…THIS IS WHAT I WANTED ALL ALONG.

Even with the very first audition with Ha Hyunsang… OMFG UGHhHhh THAT BOI IS SO FLUFFY but so good at the same time… I feel like each time I see him, I ACTUALLY just want to give him a hug :’-(( the emotional depth in his singing is beyond describable and im SO PROUD TO HAVE WATCHED HIM GROW !!!!!!

That’s another thing I really really realllyyyyyyy loved from this show........ it was the process of watching these people develop, mature, change, grow with show. Some contestants went through some major growing pains, but it was so heartwarming to watch them improve, not that they were even bad to begin with. And the reversals!! Or the expansions?? The turnarounds?? The CONMEN!!!

AHHhhHHhhh okay im still very obsessed with the infinite amount of talent some dudes had, but before I get to that, let me continue on with those stellar auditions, aka the three genius guitarists, too ;_______; they. Are. So. Amazing. I love them a lot. I think I completely fell for them. And I hate myself. I hate to admit it a lot because I used to ALWAYS shit on dudes younger than me, I disliked basically every contestant on produce that was younger than ‘99, I thought they were all useless young children… but 김영소, 이강호, & 임형빈, were a completely different story. I LOVE THEM!!! I always had a bias toward a man that could play the guitar well… but these guys holy moly, they blew me away… they are so exceptional at what they do and the fact that theyre still so YOUNG… good lord…..my poor heart was so conflicted but ultimately so happy to have discovered them.

To watch these guys be thrown into that first 1:1 perf, and literally tearing up the stage and setting the bar VERY HIGH from the very beginning of the competition… phew… my goodness…. The talent with these kids… o my…. Okay yeah, nope im never gonna get over it. The ‘Adventure of a Lifetime’ stage will always be an iconic one from this program, and we all know it. Who knew a pure acoustic, musical performance, no vocals included stage would be so amazing…. I LOVE THEM!! Have I mentioned that yet?

Going back to the reversals/scamming thing... I guess this goes with watching some people grow……. I want to give a holy and blessed shoutout to probably my favorite contestant out of this entire show: 신광일….. he was such a dark horse. In fact, I don’t even remember his audition tbh because he was THAT not-memorable in the beginning LOL (or also.. I believe they never showed his audition to begin with)… but he quickly caught my eye as the eps went on because he came out of nowhere and whipped out all (or maybe not even all…) his skills like secret weapons, stage after stage.. he came in as a vocalist, picked up the bass for two the performances after that (all while still singing, too), although having never played the bass formally... and then once joining hands with Juhyeok and Yechan, he just miraculously becomes the drummer, because they ultimately decided that they needed percussion in their songs. So from thereon after, since ‘Hold Back The River’, Gwang-il, to me, was literally GOD(신) Gwang-il, as he played the drums and SANG TOO…..and may I add, hes not even that old?????? HES FRKING ONLY 2 YEARS OLDER THAN ME WTF;__; the boy got all these crazy blisters while perfecting the drums, but he didn’t let anything stop him and he was sucH A SOLID BAND MEMBER ALL THROUGHOUT, AHHHHHH MVP GOES TO SHIN GWANG-IL, YALL….(also I just found out that hes a trainee from Mystic Story, aka Yoon Jong shin’s agency aka the agency that I’ve been following for many many MANYYYY years now bc a lot of my favorite artists have come out of it…. Wow what is this fate)

And special recognition goes to Im Hyung-bin aka one of the 18 yr old genius guitarists bc he … oh my…. He frking became the pianist and singer by the end of the show…. Omfg… yall.. HE is also another infinitely talented soul. AND HES EXTRA FRKING YOUNG…

Besides these two though, there were many many many manyyyyy other people as well that took up multiple instruments throughout the show, or even began singing, or just did EVERYTHING….I was so mindblown by this, im still honestly not over it at all.

Because like, is this normal?? Isn’t that so unprofessional?? Its already so crazy that this show already starts us off with NON-amateur musicians and artists. But then some of these dudes have never done any other things formally before they got thrown into it; they came into this show “specializing” in something completely different, yet they jump onto the stage and do what they needed to, HELLA FRKING WELL…… so many of these dudes, you wouldn’t know that was his first time playing the bass, playing the drums, first time playing that piano, or first time being on the keyboard AND being a vocal, you wouldn’t know any of that unless they mentioned it, unless you watched the show and saw their story.

Because they all pulled it off THAT well.. these people that did these things for the first time ever while being on Superband, they executed their roles so well and showcased such wonderfully exhilarating talent…. IM SO BLESSED TO HAVE DISCOVERED SUCH AMAZING ARTISTS….

That was one of the biggest feats of Superband for me. The limitless talent that came out of it. I LOVE watching people like this. Their passion for music fuels such undeniable skill and fervor, and when they step onto that stage, they are literally unstoppable. They made music that stopped my time, stopped my heart, in the moment, but literally MOVED me...i applaud these people so much. I really do.

Thinking back to it now, the number of stages that came out of this show was like…. Countless…. Like… A LOT…. Since episode 1, each stage was very well-produced and I truly enjoyed watching each one from the start. This show was just so jampacked overall, although I admit that sometimes it was arduous due to the GRIND that these people were on, presenting stage after stage after stage, and then listening to LOTS of feedback from almost each judge over and over and over, but it was still nothing short of musical masterpieces out there. I really appreciate how STUFFED, how FILLED TO THE BRIM, this show was with dynamic, enjoyable, exceptional performances (and words of valuable opinions & evaluations, too)

I can re-watch many of them, every day, for days on end. I loved it. And can we just talk about how impressive these dudes are for pulling off something new, for taking on a brand-new challenge with a brand-new set of members, time and time again, stage after stage, week after week, until we came down to the 6 solid bands in the last 3 episodes? They constantly had to work with new people, match their music preferences, fill spaces in their music where they didn’t exactly have someone they may have needed. They had to compensate, compromise, and ultimately DELIVER, at the end of it all. Multiple times. I don’t even remember how many rounds they did… was it 4? I think they had 4 rounds of eliminations before they settled into their official bands. But still... its crazy impressive to think about how driven and flexible a lot of these artists were, to be creating, producing & then performing despite all the different teams they were getting put into week after week.

ANDDDDDD, despite all the odds up against them like the time crunch, the new collab of members each time, the potential lack of a missing instrument or sound, SO many of these teams still came out with self-written and self-produced songs!!!!!!! I mean, even for the cover songs alone, many were already re-arranging everything & basically turning them into new tracks. BUT WITH THOSE SELF COMPOSED SONGS??????????? Some teams literally started from scratch each time, but busted out some amazing tunes and lyrics and executed very very very impressive stages and IM JUST AKFJAKJFKJBSN how…. Are they….. so…. Talented…… I still ask myself each time.

By far, the combo that took my heart and kept it for good….. LUCY ;_______;. I never expected to like Juhyeok’s voice tbh, it was a little TOO weird for me in the beginning… but watching him perform with Yechan and Gwang-il and Wonsang really brought to life his vocal potential for me… that team is literally a combination made in heaven, they have all the right pieces to make ARTWORK… their signature sound was so prominent from the very beginning and i was SO HAPPY when I saw that they stuck to the same exact members once the finale came around.

Before the winner was announced, I told myself very honestly that I didn’t even care who won because the two teams left over, Hoppipolla & Lucy, were already my two all-time favorite combinations of artists from the entire show, and I was already MORE than satisfied with all the wonderful music and stages that everyone had delivered up until that point anyway. But even with that, I was still thoroughly shocked when they announced Hoppipolla as the winning band LOL I gasped aloud. I thought that Lucy at least had a chance. Or like I guess, in my heart, I assumed that Lucy actually won.. LOL but they didn’t.

And in terms of the finale in general, I really would also like to address how I purposely tried really hard to avoid any spoilers and rewatching of performances on youtube before actually finishing the entire series. I tried like reallyyyyy hard, because I wanted to watch the program as thoroughly as possible without spoilers. I HATE SPOILERS. But oh the irony. It was in all in vain anyway.

Once I finally DID finish all 14 episodes, when trying to look for more information/reactions/articles/videos (initially searching in English), I actually struggled SO HARD LMAOOOO bc there was like NOTHING OUT THERE……..i should have known better; this show was definitely NOT catered to the intl. audience (yet?), especially because its in its first season still. There were probably like 2 articles max in English about Superband & it was just about its upcoming premier. Nothing about winners nor results nor anything else i was wary of, anyway. LOLLL THE INTL COMMUNITY DOESN’T CARE; or at least the intl population that DOES care about Superband, is probably reallyyyyyy small……a reddit thread I found was the most substantial discussion I could find, comprised of a few comments max.

And so that brings me to how I always see a lot of comments begging for English subs and everything, but honestly…….. all I have to say to yall is: LEARN KOREAN IF YOU REALLY WANT TO WATCH THE SHOW THAT BADLY !!!

If after all these years, I could pick up Korean to an extent where I can watch things raw, im sure others can do the same as long as they put their mind to it. Ive been really appreciating how far my skills have taken me LOL not trying to be THAT person, but I just know that if I COULDN’T read or listen & comprehend or type in Korean like I can now, I would be missing out on a WORLD of amazing stuff. E.g. superband. And if anything, I would like to think that this show helped me practice my vocab skills a lot more. Listening to the judges’ evals after each stage was really enjoyable: I learned plenty of valuable words out of THEIR words.

This show was phenomenal in that all the contestants had total musical freedom. It was soOOOOO refreshing to watch. They got to choose all their music & their teammates in a fair manner (maybe not so much their competition), but seeing them take their passions & what THEY wanted to do with music and laying that all out onto the stage, was so compelling!!! This freedom allowed for countless, ICONIC AF transformations and growth journeys for soooo many of the artists too!!!! I really realllyyyyyyyy loved watching some of them stepping WAYYYY outside of their comfort zones / the image that they originally came in with (e.g. HONG ISAAC HAAAAHAHHA, Jisang, Hyunsang!!), and also watching alllllll those multitalented “scam characters”!!! HAHAHA, without this program being as open as it was, it would’ve been impossible to be able to see such a myriad of sides to so many different people. I appreciate, I really do.

And I really really realllyyyy enjoyed watching all the behind the scenes of each performance as well!! Of course, its normal to give viewers some background story before each stage, but in Superband, we got to see some very raw sides of music-making….. these dudes literally lived like hobos in the recording studios, all disheveled and sleep-deprived human beans, but ceaselessly making music because that’s what they love. I liked watching teams try out a lot of different songs & styles as they searched for THE right one. And then we got to see the final result on stage after the countless discussions and trials behind the scenes. And these processes repeated for months on end. All the contestants are so commendable in this right. The grind was real, and the show didn’t try to hide that. I enjoyed this very realistic approach !!

At this point, after drowning myself in this show for a few days straight… (those episodes are LONGGGGG, close to two hrs each) ive literally spent every night, and basically day, too, watching all the cuts that jtbc uploaded on youtube over and over and oVERRRRR….. ive also been watching some Superband concert clips, from when the entire final 6 bands went on a domestic tour and performed together for several concerts!!

THAT OPENING STAGE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! BLESS THOSE PEOPLE THAT CAUGHT IT ON CAMERA BECAUSE IT IS LITERALLY SUCH A PIECE OF MUSICAL HEAVEN, omfg the energy on that stage IS SOMETHING ELSE… IF I WERE THERE IN PERSON I PROBABLY WOULDVE CRIED INSTANTLY……. lee juhyeok, kevin oh, chae bohoon, im hyeongbin, kim youngso, ha hyunsang, lee chansol, and kim woosung, all the guitarists/ vocalists lined up in the front… (hearing each vocalist sing a line each made my HEART HURT....I LOVE THEM SM) then the bassists, lee jonghoon, kim hyungwoo, kim hajin, jo wonsang, clustered up AND HAVIN A TIME all by themselves, and the three epic electric guitarists, yang jiwan, kim junhyeob, and Zairo, literally held SUCH stage presence… on the drums: kang kyungyoon all the way to the right, and red haired hwang minjae in the middle, and the super in-sync, traditional drum banging bois, choi youngjin, shin gwang-il, a-il, & jung gwanghyun, all 4 of them bouncing up and down in the back like intense oompa loompas LOL THEY LOOKED SO CUTE, and the string bois!!!!! Shin yechan & benji on the violin next to hong jinho on the cello; yechan and benji started off sitting down but as the song goes on they literally WENT AT IT HAHAHA as expected of two of the most high-energy musicians. On the piano, lee na-woo, the classic icon himself starting off the entire intro, and next to him hong isaac the transformation legend himself on the keyboard + his super distinctive voice!!!!!! And of course, d-pole with his much-expected little music break in the middle….. in fact many of them got ICONIC solo time: kang kyungyoon’s drumming part, kim hyungwoo’s super duper solid bass, minjae’s powerful beats, kim hajin’s LOUD ass bass, lee jonghoon’s legendary slap finger bass playing, jo wonsang’s super ting-y, classic bass section, and yang jiwan’s loud ASS ELEC GUITAR TOO, omg they were all so cute, pointing to each member & hyping them up as it was their few seconds to shine….AND THOSE COLLECTIVE VOICES???? HEARING ALL THE VOCALISTS SING TOGETHER ONE BY ONE… OH my gosh it was soooooo GOOOODDDDDDD.... just watching all those dudes literally have THE TIME OF THEIR LIFE on stage (literally an ADVENTURE OF A LIFETIME), the energy was off the charts… I loveeeeee seeing them so happy, making eye contact with each other, jumping up & down, rocking out, laughing with each other, all while playing their instrument, so fervently, all 27 people on the stage, connected by one song…. Theres SO MUCH OVERFLOW of talent in one freaking place, that song sounded SO MASSIVE just thru the video I cant imagine….. if I were actually there omfg… that’s an actual BAND Like A HUGE FRKING BAND… AHHHHHHHHHH a really legendary stage.. the finest of finest……I can literally watch this opening on repeat without getting bored because I just loveeeee the concept of all of them being together like that :”)))

After watching member after member, team after team get eliminated, seeing them like this on one stage with such happy expressions and making a beautiful piece of music like that o MANNNNNN…. This show…… has really done something to me…

I appreciate every contestant SO MUCH and I wish I could watch everyone be together FOREVER….because knowing how artistically talented each person is on their own, to watch them join together is like the avengers times 72737446352 or something, its just talent & skill plus talent & skill stacked onto even more skill & talents and just an INFINITE amount of potential AND THAT…IS LITERALLY.. THE POWER…. OF A BAND………and of great ass music.

This show was GENIUS TO combine so many musicians from so many different backgrounds…but watching them work together to make pure art, that is so frking rewarding and heartwarming and I feel so blessed to have witnessed it all.

The genres and potential were literally limitless……I think this is what encompassed Superband for me, this is what made me enjoy it SO damn much…. I think ive finally run out of things to say… this piece of text is quite a mess, not very polished….. but I was hasty in recording my thoughts & emotions before they left me, so I tried my best.

My biggest regret with this show is that I didn’t watch it sooner. (what is really ironic is that it took me FOREVER to start the first ep, despite having tonssss of time on my hands... I had it open on one of my tabs for the longest time, but I lowkey grudgingly, eventually, forced myself to finally start it LOL..(thank god I rly did tho) I watched it 2 months after the finale, which is… kinda late? If I had watched it while it was airing, all while I was still in korea, I feel like I would’ve been EVEN MORE in love, even more fervent and passionate about everything. Digging thru old vids & watching things from contestants before they came out onto the show, seeing the artists they were, I could’ve easily gone and seen them myself probably… goddamnit I probably could’ve gone to the superband finale live show, if I had known.. I COULDVE VOTED IN REAL TIME... not that I could’ve brought myself to do it anyway, probably lol….. but basically, if I had known of this show WHILE I was there with them… I don’t know, I could’ve been a lot more active as a fan, I feel like..

Now im back to my original roots: crying in front of my laptop screen and tap-tapping away at my keyboard as a I rant to no one but myself. Being in korea made my appreciation for all kinds of artists, all my beloved ones, EVERYONE, a lot more tangible.. but being back in America… it all becomes hidden into the depths of my heart, once again…

PHEW……I think now is a good time to mention my favorite stages… as I mentioned before, the Lucy AND pre-Lucy lineup will always hold a really special place in my heart so basically all my faves include their stages LOL

‘Swim’ cover by LUCY(신예찬, 이주혁, 신광일, 조원상)

‘Hold Back The River’ cover by 신예찬, 이주혁, 신광일

‘Adventure of a Lifetime’ cover by 조원상, 김영소, 이강호, 임형빈

‘누구 없소’ cover by 케빈오, 박찬영, 신광일, 강경윤

‘선잠’ by LUCY

'Castle on the Hill’ cover by 아일, 하현상, 노마드, 홍진호

‘1000x’ cover by 아일, 하현상, 홍진호, 김형우

‘One More Light’ cover by HOPPIPOLLA(아일, 하현상, 홍진호, 김영소)

‘Cry Bird’ cover by LUCY

‘Viva La Vida’ cover by 하현상, 홍진호, 김영소

‘Flare’ by LUCY

‘Find You Again’ by People on the Bridge(이찬솔, 임형빈, 김준협, 강경윤,  김형우)

My favorite funny moments:

“이게 무슨 짓이야!!?” - mellow kitchen (the stealing of the 3 kiddo guitarists)

“okay let’s be honest, you can’t even hear the bass” - shin hyunbin 2k19

울보 팀

Hyunsang’s fam: 아일 the mom, 홍진호 the dad, 김형우 the hyung

“idk if im allowed to say this but it looked like zombie movie” - yoon jongshin, as they all gathered around the cello man

“I thought to myself, isn’t that cello expensive tho..” - yoon jongshin as youngso slapped & tapped jinho’s cello for percussion

Ah-il’s iconic castle on the hill pose

Zairo’s luck with member choosing lmao

HONG ISAK’S DANCING in ‘Time of My Life’ LOLLL IT GETS ME LAUGHING EACH TIMEEE (& all his nicknames, like eungalchi lmaooo)

Benji’s “YO-RO-BOON HAM-KAY HEY-YO” during ‘Woo-ing’

Gwanghyun’s “do-doom-tak”

Gwanghyun calling Gwang-il’s drum skills equivalent to that of a middle school band’s LOLLLL

**I watched Mone’s radio appearance on Arirang Radio where Benji is the host, and they were an absolute MESS LMAOOOOOO THEY WERE HONESTLY ALL REALLY FUNNY THOUGH.. they kept roasting the crap out of each other and laughing their asses off and man… it was gr8 time and it was really cute to discover that Hong Isaac is now a part of one of Benji’s radio shows too!

One important question I have for this show though: where tf did all the females go? Why was there no female presence at all in this show, I have no clue…… :/

At the end of the day, this show reminded me once again, how to feel happy and excited because of music. how to let great music fill my life with undeniable joy. Being able to look forward to listening to these songs every day, definitely had lifted a small part of me that has been down for all too long. I really appreciate, I am very grateful for, I just… im so thankful to have discovered this show & all its wonderful masterpieces & the beautifully, magically, PASSIONATE artists behind it all………. I needed this in my life at this point in time, I really did. 

Thank you for coming to be, Superband.

[yikesola]

there was so much content today ,, all of it good but wowow So Much!

it feels like when your stepmom decides that the sweetest thing allowed in the house is gonna be carrot sticks bc last month she tried to quit smoking again by having a tootsie pop every time she got a craving and is pissed about the tooth she chipped by biting down at the wrong angle, so you get used to carrot sticks after school and they’re not as good as the cinnamon graham crackers you used to have but they’re fine, and they’re orange and that’s fun bc maybe if you eat enough you’ll turn orange and that’s fun, then one day your friend alyssa asks you to stay the night and you do and her mom picks up papa murphey’s on the way home from work and you don’t really care for papa murphey’s but hey a pizza is a pizza, and then alyssa grabs your hand and you tiptoe into the workbench in her garage you don’t like to go near bc it’s always covered in sharp things and spider webs, but she opens a drawer and hands you a fun sized candy bar with a ghost on the wrapper even though it’s april now, and you take a bite of that crunch bar and holy moly is that thing sweet! 😩🙌 so, if you’re keeping track of the metaphor, that’s dan’s vidcon now shoutouts, but then alyssa hands you a pack of reeces pieces and that’s phil’s instastory! then she hands you a tiny starburst and they’re both pink, and that’s phil’s video!! then you scamper back into the house and built a fort out of the dining room chairs and sofa cushions and just before you fall asleep, looking up to your makeshift roof of toy story sheets, alyssa leans in close to whisper that her mom will make pancakes in the morning if we ask her reeeaaaaal nicely, and that’s tomorrow’s liveshow. so much sweetness ✨ i’m not accustomed but i am overjoyed!🥰🥰 y’know? y’know that feeling?

[thehuggamugcafe]

14 Disturbing Short Horror Stories.

OOC: Holy moly, I’m in quite the mood tonight it seems! If only I felt this motivated to work on orders rather than, say, my spontaneous musings.

Well, my dears, you know what to do. Sit back, relax with your favourite hot beverage, and let this caffeinated Barista chill you all once again. Please enjoy. ☕

“Shh. Shh.” The crackle of the baby monitor slowly pulls him from the thick fog of sleep, blinking as he glances at the alarm clock. It shows the time as 1:20 a.m., and he feels his wife shifting on his right. He realizes that it’s not his wife in the nursery, comforting their 3-month-old son.

When he asks his son why he keeps seating the table for three people, him, his mother, and himself, he smiles and replies, “Mommy is always with us, daddy.” He smiles and nods, but it’s forced as a chill dances up his spine.

“What are you doing?” he asks, watching his daughter as she sits on the staircase landing. She pries her eyes away from some point on the second floor, giggling as she replies, “Nothing, daddy~. I’m just talking!” “Talking? To who?” She looks at him, clearly confused as she tilts her head. “...To mommy.” His wife has been dead for a year...

“Wake up. Honey, you have to wake up!” Groggily, he’s wrenched from the land of dreams at his spouse’s voice. He shifts instinctively, brushing an arm over where his wife is lying in bed. Then he remembers that she was murdered by an intruder three years ago.

“I can’t sleep,” her voice hisses into his ear, her icy breath fanning the nape of his neck as she speaks softly. “It’s cold, and I can’t sleep.” He wakes up, trembling, his skin breaking out into a cold sweat. In the dim moonlight, he can make out that his hands are clutching the dress she is buried in.

“Daddy, can you check for monsters under my bed?” He smiles and complies for his son’s amusement---only to see him, another him, looking back at him. The small boy is clearly frightened, shivering as he whispers, “Daddy, there’s someone in my bed.”

“Remember when I was the daddy, and you were the child?” His child says to him one day, his tiny fingers gripping a crayon as he doddles in his colouring book. He replies that he doesn’t, and he watches as the bright light fades in his son’s eyes. He whispers in a hollow voice, “It’s going to be a lot more painful this time.”

“Repeat after me. There’s no such thing as monsters.” “T-There’s no such thing as monsters.” The child’s voice is shaky, quivering as she speaks, clutching a stuffed bear to her chest. “I-I’m not scared of the dark. Because you’ll protect me, mommy!” “I will, sweetie. I’ll always protect you and daddy.” The ghostly apparition of the little girl’s mother smiles, reaching forward to cup her child’s cheek in a cold, see-through palm.

On the anniversary of his wife’s untimely passing, he always finds himself reading the last text messages she sent him, and listening to her final message. The ache increases ten-fold thanks to her whispering, “I love you” and he feels himself smiling, despite the tears trailing down his cheeks. One day, he hears her voice crackling through the speakers, relaying a different message. “It’s time to move on, darling.”

This is wrong. That’s what he tells himself as the headlights glare over the gate of the cemetery, the tires crunching over gravel as it slows to a stop. You know it’s wrong! That’s what his mind hisses to him as he pries open the driver-side door, pausing to reach into the back seat where the shovel is. I know it’s wrong, and I don’t care! If I can’t be with them in life, then I’ll be with them in death. He’s comfortable with the fact that in a few days, the authorities won’t find two bodies in the nearby lake, but three.

Every morning at 6 a.m., and every evening at 6 p.m., he got a text from his wife. She always tells him that she loves him and their child, how she misses them both, and that she hopes that they’re safe and happy. He isn’t sure which unsettles him more. The fact that his phone is always turned off at both respective times, or the knowledge that his deceased wife is messaging him.

The shrill ringing of his cellphone wrestles him from a deep slumber. He blinks, still groggy, and rolls over. His eyes fix on the digital clock, the numbers glowing red in the darkness. It’s 3 a.m., and so, he fumbles for his phone, finally bringing it up in front of his tired eyes. He stares in silent shock, reading the sender of the message. It’s his wife. “I’m waiting for you. Can you pick me up?” It’s what she always asked him when she was alive...

I’m going insane. A single thought manages to wrestle for control of his mind, a contrast to his eyes as they’re threatening to pop out of his sockets. There’s an overwhelming stench of rot dominating his nostrils as he breathes in, and the sensation of icy fingers wrapped around his throat doesn’t go away. As he looks up into the pale face, the lifeless eyes of his dearly departed wife, as she keeps her cold, dirt-caked hands coiled around his neck, threatening to rob him of his life, he can only wheeze out, “Forgive me, my love.”

He makes it a force of habit to make sure his daughter gets a good night’s rest by warming up milk for her, and reading her bedtime stories. He always tells her that he loves her, but he always wakes up in the same padded room, greeted by the same nurse who reminds him so much of her. There’s a hollow look in her eyes as she smiles and tells him, “You were dreaming again.”

[rebelgirl1974]

𝗡𝗨𝗧𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗖𝗢𝗢𝗞𝗜𝗘 𝗖𝗥𝗨𝗡𝗖𝗛 𝗣𝗘𝗔𝗡𝗨𝗧 𝗕𝗨𝗧𝗧𝗘𝗥 Swipe for the goods!! 👉 As I said on my previous post, it is HOT in CA and many of my toppings had melted for the flavors in this launch! DOES NOT take away from the flavor, just makes it harder to capture the goodies on camera 😍 𝗙𝗼𝗿 𝗔𝗺𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗻 𝗗𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗺: 𝗺𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝘀𝘂𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝗺𝘆 𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗸 𝘁𝗼 𝘀𝗮𝘃𝗲! 𝗖𝗼𝗱𝗲𝘀 𝗻𝗼 𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿 𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗶𝘃𝗲! 🔗👉 https://glnk.io/p8kx/rebecca10 🥜 LAYERED! 🥜 Brownie batter flavored peanut butter 🥜 Layered with sweet cream flavored peanut butter 🥜 Topped with crushed gluten-free PB cookies 🥜 Peanut butter AND white chocolate chips 🥜 Sugar crystals 🥜 8g protein, 8g carb, 11g fat, 3g sugar 🥜 150 calories per 28g (2 TBSP) serving Nutter Cookie Crunch starts with premium roasted peanuts direct from locals farms! They are hand whipped with all natural brownie batter flavor and more with sweet cream flavor, then layered together! It is then topped with crushed gluten free peanut butter cookies, pb chips, white chocolate chips, and sugar crystals! First off, you taste the brownie batter flavor, then the sweet cream comes through! Think the base of Pot of Gold! Sweet and creamy! The crunch from the peanut butter cookies and the sugar crystals is so perfect! Can you ever go wrong with chocolate and pb?! With the addition of the sweet cream, the chocolate is very subtle and toned down. This is a sweet base! And can we talk about the drizzle?! Holy moly! The peanut butters lately have been amazingly smooth and drippy! I did have a noticeable swirl of the two flavors when I got my jar, but I stirred it so they were not visible in these pictures or in our taste test! So how does it compare to Gimme S'mores or Yabba Dabba? Both of those have a strong chocolate taste, this is much lighter and sweeter! I did not think the chocolate flavor was strong at all, more subtle, light, and creamy. Don't get me wrong, the chocolate is there, but it's not a super strong chocolate base! The chocolate and pb combos of this one and Yabba Dabba are also very different. I mean, Reese's don't taste like Nutter Butters! Review coming soon, I promise!! ❤️ https://www.instagram.com/p/CgJF8SvuPq0/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[chill-pill-life]

Seventeen going to the Convenience Store

Episode Four: Where Seventeen visits the convenience store because of someone’s hunger.

Mingyu: “Wonwoo~”

Wonwoo:

Mingyu: “Wonwoo~”

Wonwoo:

Mingyu: “WONWOO!!!”

Wonwoo: *jumps up from bed in shock* “What now?”

Mingyu: “I’m hungry” *smiles*

Wonwoo: “You’ve got to be kidding me”

Mingyu: “Minghao”

The8: “Shut up and go back to bed”

Mingyu: “No wake up!”

The8: “Go bother someone else”

Mingyu: “I’m hungry let’s go to the convenience store”

The8: “Ask someone else like Wonwoo”

Mingyu: “I did and he didn’t want to”

The8: “Obviously he wouldn’t IT’S 4AM YOU IDIOT”

Mingyu: “FINE you all leave me with no choice then…” *leaves room*

The8: “Finally thank god”

Mingyu: *takes a sip of water*

Mingyu: *clears throat*

Mingyu: “FIREEEEEEEEEEEE!!! FIREEEEEEEEEEE!!! WAKE UP EVERYONE THERE’S A FIREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!”

Mingyu: “COUPS HYUNG YOUR CHILDREN ARE ON FIREEEEE”

Mingyu: “JEONGHAN HYUNG YOUR HAIR IS ON FIREEEEE”

Mingyu: “WOOZI HYUNG YOUR STUDIO IS ON FIREEEEEEEE”

Mingyu: “CHAN YOUR MICHAEL JACKSON ALBUMS ARE ON FIREEEEEEE”

Mingyu: “VERNON YOUR MACBOOK IS ON FIREEEEEEE”

Mingyu: “HOSHI HYUNG WOOZI IS ON FIREEEEEEE”

Mingyu: “JOSHUA HYUNG YOUR GUITARS ARE ON FIREEEEEE”

Mingyu: “WONWOO YOUR BEANIE COLLECTION IS ON FIREEEEEE”

Mingyu: “JUN YOUR PASSPORT BACK TO CHINA IS ON FIREEEEEEE”

Mingyu: “SEUNGKWAN JEJU IS ON FIREEEEEEEEE”

Mingyu: “SEOKMIN DONKEY KONG IS ON FIREEEEEEE”

Mingyu: “MINGHAO MINGYU IS ON FIREEEEEEEEEEEEE”

Mingyu: *takes a seat on the sofa and waits patiently*

Seventeen: *runs into the living room*

Scoups: “MY CHILDREN ARE YOU ALL ALRIGHT?!”

Jeonghan: “AM I- AM I BALDDDD???! No wait don’t tell me I don’t want to know” *cries*

Dino: “MICHAEL JACKSON MY SPECIAL EDITION ALBUMS DON’T WORRY DINO WILL PROTECT CHU”

Jun: “My passport! My passport! Nooo!! I need it to leave this placeeeee”

Wonwoo: “1 beanie, 2 beanie, 3 beanie, 4 beanie…. WAIT beanie number 5 is missing!!!”

Hoshi: “WOOZI WOOZI WOOZI ARE YOU OUHKAY ERMAGAWD I KNEW I SHOULD HAVE SECRETLY CREPT INTO YOUR ROOM TO SLEEP TONIGHT”

Woozi: “You creep into my room to sleep?!”

Hoshi: “I didn’t say anything”

Vernon: *runs out with a pail of water and pours it on his mac*

Woozi: “Vernon, you know that you just poured a bucket full of water on your perfectly fine Macbook right?”

Vernon:

Vernon: “What?” *realises situation*

Woozi: “Unlike you all, I don’t fall for Mingyu’s dumbass tricks”

Vernon: “Give me a moment while I cry in the corner”

Woozi: “It’s gone bro”

Seungkwan: “HELLO HI OMG MUM I HEARD THAT THERE’S A FIRE IN JEJU ARE U OKAYYY? WHAT DO YOU MEAN THERE’S NO FIRE?”

Joshua: “Is this powder on the floor- perhaps the remains of my guitar?” *welps*

The8: “No, it’s just leftover ramen seasoning that a certain someone forgot to clean last night”

Mingyu: “Minghao, I said I was on FIREEEee! why aren’t you asking if I’m okay??”

The8: “I honestly just came out to watch you get burnt alive but after coming out of my room, I am utterly disappointed”

Scoups: “Hang on someone’s missing! ONE OF MY CHILDREN IS MISSING!”

Scoups: “SEOKMIN! SEOKMIN WHERE ARE YOU?”

DK: “Sleeping”

Mingyu: “But your donkey kong is on fire!”

DK: “UGH I’m so done with you Mingyu, I hope every donkey kong burns to the ground” gasp

Scoups: “Okay so everyone’s fine, there is clearly NO fire, it’s 4 in the morning, what in the name is the meaning of this Kim Mingyu?”

Mingyu: “Mingyu wants food”

Seventeen: “…”

Jeonghan: “So let me get this straight, you woke us up at 4 freaking AM and messed around with my hair getting caught on fire, for food?!?!?!”

The8: “I knew it”

Vernon: “Dude not cool, my macbook got fried” *sobs*

DK: “Great, so donkey kong isn’t on fire, what a nightmare”

Woozi: “I’m going back to bed”

Mingyu: “But Mingyu wants some food” *pouts*

Jun: “Someone hold me back if not I’m gonna hit this tall thing”

Scoups: “Alright, alright. First of all, no violence in this household is allowed, secondly if it was allowed, I am the one who is going to hit this child”

Scoups: “Thirdly, since we’re already up, let’s just go down and get some food”

Mingyu: “YAYYY” *throws confetti in the air*

Dino: “Confetti! Wheeeeee!!” *tries to catch confetti*

Joshua: “Am I the only one who wonders where the confetti came from?”

Jun: “There is no way I’m going down at this time-“

Wonwoo: “I’m a little hungry”

Jun: “LETS GO”

Jeonghan: “Seungcheol, I blame you for spoiling our children”

Joshua: *glares at coups*

Scoups: “What do you mean? Mingyu’s bad habits came from you…”

Jeonghan: “What are you saying, you’re the one who always-“

Mingyu: “I WANT FOOD”

Scoups: “Can’t you see that your parents are arguing?!”

Jeonghan: “Don’t yell at the children!”

Scoups: “URGH”

*at the store*

Mingyu: “This is how heaven must look like”

Seungkwan: “Yeah, if you want to gain like 50 pounds and wear a size 100, going to the emergency ward for a heart attack then yeah sure!”

Dino: “Dino was upset about my albums before but my heart is fluttering, I think I’m in love”

Jun: *stares at chan and stares at the dinosaur crackers and back at chan*

Jun: “Must. Contain. Judgement.”

Dino: *hugs box of dinosaur shaped crackers*

Jeonghan: “Do you want me to buy that for you Dino?”

Dino: *nods like the adorable child he is*

Vernon: “Do they sell Macbooks here?”

Joshua: “No Hansol it’s a convenience store why would they sell Macbooks?”

Joshua: “Frankly, I’m quite happy that your Macbook is gone, it’s been creating a gap between our relationship, now I just need your phone to disappear and it’ll be all good between us”

Vernon: “Hello kind sir, do you perhaps sell Macs?”

Cashier: “Oh, we don’t but down the street there’s a Mac-“

Vernon: “THANK YOU SIR I WILL NEVER FORGET YOUR KINDNESS” *runs*

Cashier: “-Mcdonalds…”

Joshua: “So far so great” appearance of evil josh?

Mingyu: “HOLY MOLY WHAT IS THIS?”

Wonwoo: “Chips?”

Hoshi: “It’s called Cheetos gyu, haven’t you tried it before?”

Mingyu: “BUT IT’S ORANGE!”

The8: “It’s just cheese”

Mingyu: “CHEESEEEE”

Mingyu: *opens bag*

Wonwoo: “Erm Mingyu you know that you’re supposed to pay before opening it right?”

Mingyu: “Om nom nom what is this magical taste in my mouth?”

The8: “Don’t over-react Mingyu, it’s just chips covered in oil and artificial flavoured cheese”

Seungkwan: “You forgot to add trans fat”

Mingyu: “But it tastes sho good!” *squeals*

Mingyu: “Minghao can you hold this for me, I need to tie my shoelaces”

The8: “Fine but hurry up”

Cashier: “Did you just open up the chips without paying?!”

Mingyu: “He did it” *points to Minghao*

The8: “WHAT THE FUNK YO”

Cashier: “I’m calling the cops” *takes phone out*

Scoups: “Okay what’s happening now?”

Cashier: “Are these yours?”

Scoups: “Yes they’re my children, that at this point of time I’m seriously considering abandoning, but for now yes they are”

Cashier: “They opened the packet of chips without paying for it, it’s a crime and they can go to jail for it”

Seungkwan: “I predict you’re going to rot in that cell until you’re 30”

The8: “I ain’t going to jail man”

Scoups: “I’m sorry, these kids didn’t know any better, can I just pay for it instead? Please don’t call the cops, we have a music show to do tomorrow and the CEO will flip out if they aren’t there, just tell me how much it is”

Cashier: “Just pay me 50 bucks and we’ll call it even”

Scoups: “50?! What a rip-off!”

Hoshi: “Well there goes your hard-earned money”

The8: “The worst part is… I DIDN’T EVEN DO IT”

Cashier: “What do you mean you didn’t do it, the bag is open and it’s in your hands”

Mingyu: “YEAH MINGHAO HOW COULD YOU! ITS ILLEGAL!”

The8: “WHY I OUTTA-“ *rolls up sleeve* thughao

Scoups: “Boys, don’t fight here!”

Seungkwan: “Pass me that bag of chips hosh, this is getting interesting”

Cashier: “Hello is this the police?”

Scoups: “OKAY SIR HERE’S 50 DOLLARS ARE YOU HAPPY NOW?”

Cashier: “Sorry, there’s an inflation of price, it’s 100 now”

Scoups: “That is absurd, it’s practically daylight robbery!”

Wonwoo: “Actually hyung, it’s night-time robbery…. because it’s at night…”

Hoshi: “So it’s either we sent Minghao to jail or pay $100? What kind of sick logic is that?”

Seungkwan: “I say we send Minghao to jail and spend the hundred on something else like meat”

The8:“I feel the love y’all”

Cashier: “The address is 62-gil Gangnam-gu, yes the convenience store-“

Scoups: “HERE’S 100!”

Cashier: “Happy New Year children” *kisses the stack of cash*

Hoshi: “There goes our lunch for tomorrow”

Scoups: “WHO DID IT”

Wonwoo: “Wonwoo will not testify”

The8: “I swear hyung its Mingyu”

Mingyu: *shakes head*

The8: “You liar! You almost sent me to JAIL!”

Mingyu: “Okay fine, I opened it. It just looks so yummy I had to eat one”

Scoups: “The CEO gave it to me for us to use wisely and now it’s all gone, you better not make any more trouble or I’m going to seriously consider abandoning you”

Seungkwan: “Don’t forget that he broke Jin Sunbaenim’s display case that day”

Mingyu: “SHHHHH don’t remind him”

Scoups: “Let’s just all go home and get some rest”

*back at the dorm*

Mingyu: *sits on bed and takes out Cheetos packet*

DK: *wakes up*

DK: “What is that crunching sound?”

Mingyu: …

DK: *sniff sniff*

DK: “Is that cheetos I smell?”

Mingyu: “MINE!” *closes packet and hides under blanket*

[gonnabesyk]

...And because I feel like doing so will help me keep myself accountable... I’m going to share the numbers from my cheat day yesterday. I’m mortified (but that’s good)

- My TDEE is 2,286. That’s how many calories I need to eat daily to maintain my current weight

- One pound of fat = 3,500 calories

I’d have to eat 3,500 + 2,286 calories to gain weight in a day.. So how much did I eat yesterday?

5,670 calories.. I ate my TDEE, plus 3,384 calories, so about enough to gain at least a pound of weight back. 

The above number is just an estimate - might have been more, might have been less, but either way it’s still way too much food. Even for a cheat day. No excuses. I wasn’t even going to log my calories, but I’m glad I did because holy moly.. And I used to eat like that several times a week! 

Crunching those numbers helped me not cheat today. Mom asked me to get her something sweet from the store and it took all my willpower NOT to get something for myself. We walked past the deli and it smelled amazing (even though I normally don’t care about that type of food!). We looked at the snacks in the international aisle... Gosh, not grabbing one of everything was hard. At the check-out, I wanted to get a sugary soda ;____; Instead I got some fruit-flavoured sparkling water. 

I’ve never been happier to get out of a grocery store before..

Anyway, the day is done and I’m 100 calories under my limit (1,300). I have stuff for salads, enough stuff for 5 lunches (or dinners), and some “healthy” frozen dinners (low calorie, low carb, but high in sodium healthy, haha).

I’m ready to do better this week!

[joyfullightbouquetblog-blog]

I wish Apple's 2018 MacBook Pros had more compelling updates

New Post has been published on https://www.uberbuyer.com/2018/07/12/i-wish-apples-2018-macbook-pros-had-more-compelling-updates/

I wish Apple's 2018 MacBook Pros had more compelling updates

Apple finally updated its MacBook Pros after over a year (a lifetime in the computer world) without changes.

But as attractive as some of the new features are — faster processors, more RAM and storage configurations, and, err, a quieter keyboard — none of them really leap off Apple’s website and make me want to yell, “SHUT UP AND TAKE MY MONEY!“

This isn’t a full review of the new MacBook Pros — I haven’t seen or used them in person and we’ll have one soon enough — but my honest opinion on what Apple’s announced. See, although I review consumer tech for a living, I’m still a consumer and vote with my own money.

My own personal laptop is a maxed-out 2013 13-inch MacBook Pro with Retina display. It was one of the last of this particular model to come with a full suite of ports (full-sized USB, SD card, MagSafe, etc.) before Apple redesigned its notebook lineup in 2016, dropping all ports in favor of USB-C.

The fully loaded laptop, which I bought with a sizable discount from B&H, has served me well over the years. But, five years on, it’s on its last legs. 

Some of the keys on the keyboard are cracked after suffering who knows how many thousands of words on Mashable. The Intel processor and integrated graphics are too slow for crunching 4K-resolution videos and chokes hard for streaming 4K videos on YouTube. The MiniDisplay Ports constantly can’t maintain a stable connection to the two old Apple Cinema Displays I have (the displays work fine with a Windows 10 laptop). And the Retina display’s anti-reflective coating has started to wear off, but I’ve been too lazy to bring it to Apple for what could be a free repair.

In short: I need a new laptop, and although I like what the updated MacBook Pros offer, I don’t love them. For my specific case, the 15-inch MacBook Pro is off the table; it’s simply too large for my needs.

But let’s go down the list of reasons why I’m not pulling out my credit card without hesitation.

1. It’s really expensive

RIP your wallet.

The updated 13-inch MacBook Pro comes with Intel 8th-generation Core i5 or i7 chips, a maximum configuration of up to 16GB of RAM, and up to 2TB of SSD storage.

These are much-needed and respectable spec bumps, but holy moly, is it pricey. The base configuration with an Intel Core i5, 8GB of RAM, and 256GB of SSD costs $1,800. Tick off the checkboxes for all the highest configurations and it balloons up to an I’m-gonna-cry $3,700.

Now, I’m aware MacBook Pros have always commanded a premium, especially with the upgraded configurations. But like damn, even the entry-level model is too much. I’ve got other ridiculously priced things (like New York City rent) to pay, man.

Apple’s site shows the 13-inch MacBook Pro still starts at $1,300 for the non-Touch Bar model, but that’s for the old model with slower processor. The new $1,800 model isn’t replacing the 2017 models at all. 

Which brings me to my next point…

2. You’re stuck with the Touch Bar

If you want to blame the $1,800 price on anything, blame it it on the Touch Bar because the updated 13-inch MacBook Pro doesn’t come in a version with the regular function row.

Nearly two years since its debut, I can now confidently say the Touch Bar is not very good. Not only does it take extra taps to change settings like the volume and brightness, but few developers have really programmed anything extraordinary for it. 

Heck, Apple didn’t even show off any new uses for it at WWDC this year. And if Apple can’t come up with new compelling uses for the Touch Bar, then nobody will.

Fact is, the Touch Bar is an overpriced extra that nobody really needs, and few people are willing to pay more for. Apple not selling a version of its new MacBook Pros with regular function rows has me worried that model is on its way out for good.

I don’t think I’m alone in wanting to save a few hundred bucks (maybe put it towards Final Cut Pro X or something) for a non-Touch Bar model. 

3. The keyboard’s still worrisome

Based on all the reports from reporters who got hands-on time with the new MacBook Pros, it appears Apple hasn’t redesigned the controversial flat keyboards so that they don’t break from specks of dust.

Apple’s stance is the keyboard problems only affect a small number of devices, but I’m doubtful of the claims. Mashable Tech Editor Pete Pachal has been using a 15-inch MacBook Pro loaner for just a few weeks and he’s already experienced an unresponsive key.

The third-gen “butterfly-switch” keyboard isn’t devoid of improvements. The keys are supposed to feel different — more like the keys on pre-2016 MacBook Pro redesign. But I’ll believe it when I get to try the new keyboard myself. 

The keyboard’s also quieter, but is that really a change many people were asking for? While I personally appreciate a quieter keyboard (yes, I hear my colleagues pounding extra hard on their MBPs), I think I’m in the minority.

Most people just want a reliable keyboard with more travel. I’m concerned we’ll have to wait until at least the next update or refresh to get both.

4. Still missing an SD card slot

Apple still hates the the SD card.

Image: OBY SESSIONS/MACFORMAT MAGAZINE/GETTY IMAGES

It’s 2018 and dongle hell is very much still a thing. I could complain about it and how USB-C hasn’t become the catch-all port we were promised years ago, but I’d sound like a broken record.

I’ll concede full-sized USB ports aren’t coming back. Neither is HDMI or Mini DisplayPort or MagSafe.

But why, oh why, couldn’t Apple add the SD card slot back? If the MacBook Pros are indeed machines for pros – people who need to do “real” heavy-duty work, then the port needs to return.

I’m all for shooting with my iPhone in most situations. But there are still many times where I need my mirrorless or DSLR. As working professional who shoots both photos and videos, the port is essential. It’s comical the unloved MacBook Air is the only laptop Apple now sells with an SD card slot.

Handful of other concerns

Next time, maybe.

Image: lili sams/mashable

These are my biggest concerns for the new 13-inch MacBook Pro. However, I have a few others. 

True Tone, which changes the color temperature of the display, is now built into the new laptops. It’s a nice feature on iPhones, but I’m not sure if it’s a must-have on a laptop. I’d much rather have a display that covers more of Adobe’s color space, like the Razer Blade 15.

The 13-inch is only configurable with up to 16GB of RAM. There’s no 32GB of RAM option, which exclusive to the 15-inch MacBook Pro. It’s understandable adding a 32GB of RAM option for the 13-incher would have meant including a larger battery like on the 15-inch, but it still would have been nice to have the choice. Why not let consumers decide if they’re willing to deal with an extra pound or less of weight in exchange for more memory? Other computer makers do.

Touch ID also feels like it’s gonna be outdated quickly with Face ID just waiting to make the leap to the Mac. After bringing Touch ID to the MacBook Pro with Touch Bar, logic suggests Face ID will probably make land on the laptops in the future, too. Having used Windows Hello on Windows 10 laptops, I can confidently say signing in with your face is a convenience worth paying for.

I don’t think I’m being unreasonable. As my computer turns five, I’m exactly the target buyer who’s looking for a new machine. If I, a power user, feels like Apple could have went just a little further to make the MacBook Pro better, then I can’t even imagine what someone who’s not as demanding is thinking right now. 

They have to be seriously considering a rock-solid alternative like the Huawei MateBook X Pro. Because I know I am. 

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[kaelalittle]

Chocolate & Beer & Fries, Oh My!

Saturday, November 25, 2017

Belgium is famous for it’s beer, chocolate, fries, and waffles. Seriously! I mean what more could a girl ask for?! There was never any doubt that I was going to love this city, especially with the great reputation behind these four goodies.

So. Chocolate. Doesn’t matter what the question is, the answer is always chocolate. In France there is a bakery on almost every street corner. The French love their baguettes. In Brussels there is a chocolate store every 25 meters. The Brusselaars love their chocolate. And boy oh boy do they know their chocolate. I found a chocolate workshop online and immediately signed up. The workshop was held at Neuhaus Belgian Chocolate. It was just me which turned out to be really nice because I could take my time, ask whatever questions I wanted, and get one-on-one experience with the in-house chocolatier, Almir. The workshop was held in a smaller store next to the larger Neuhaus store. The small store where I was working with the chocolate under Almir’s instruction is the only Neuhaus location in the world that makes its own chocolate fresh everyday and then sells it in store. I thought that was pretty cool! All of their stores and locations, over 1,400 of them worldwide, receive shipments of chocolates, biscuits, pralines, etc. from their factory in Brussels. 

I learned a good deal about chocolate during the workshop and I will be using my newfound knowledge to sound cultured and sophisticated anytime I enjoy chocolate in the future (which will be often haha). The three ingredients that must be included for chocolate to be considered, well chocolate, are cocoa, milk, and sugar. Soy lecithin is also included sometimes to help make the chocolate smoother. Different chocolates, like milk, dark, and white, need to be kept at slightly different temperatures so they don’t seize or stiffen. In regards to storing your chocolate, if you are going to keep it in a location where you cook or keep leftovers make sure the chocolate is sealed in a Ziplock bag or tupperware container. You want to do this because the chocolate will absorb the smells that surround it and you don’t want your chocolate tasting or smelling like fish. Yuck. Also, the darker the chocolate the longer it lasts. Concerning dark chocolate, any chocolate 70% or higher (the percentage represents the “% cocoa” in the chocolate) doesn’t contain milk. Safe for those non-dairy or lactose intolerant folks out there. Finally, the flavor of the chocolate differs depending on the region where the cocoa bean is grown since it depends in large part on the soil. If the bean is from Asia the chocolate is a little spicier, from Africa it’s a bit more bitter, and from South America it’s slightly sweeter. I found that really interesting and now I understand why fancier chocolate bars have the names of different countries on their wrappers haha. 

I had so much fun making my own chocolate and my own creations! I chose to work with milk chocolate and I also got to choose from a variety of additional toppings, like almonds, pistachios, caramel, hazelnuts, raspberries, etc. I made a chocolate bar, one half with hazelnuts and the other half with a mix of caramel and raspberry. I also made chocolate “cat fingers” and added almonds to one, pistachios to another, and left a few plain. It was fun piping the chocolate into the molds and I felt super official wearing my Neuhaus apron and white chocolatier’s hat. Every Neuhaus chocolatier wears this hat when they make chocolate and I got to be a part of that inner circle for an hour!! I can’t wait to taste my creations. :))

Waffles. Leslie Knope’s favorite breakfast food and for good reason. In her own words, “We have to remember what’s important in life: friends, waffles, and work. Or waffles, friends, work. But work has to come third.” I’m going to be straight up here. Americans think they do Belgian waffles successfully but they can’t even strike a match against the authentic Brussels waffles. I visited Los Churros & Waffle for my special treat in the early afternoon post walking tour. I figured I needed to refuel after walking for a few hours haha. I decided to get a classic Belgian waffle with a drizzle of caramel sauce, whipped cream, and chopped nuts. UGHHHHHH. Soooo good. A little sweet but still delicious. I think if I ever go back I’d stick with the original plain or original with whipped cream and keep it simple. I ate the entire thing and was definitely ready for a nap afterwards. However, the city was calling my name and after my waffle I headed to the Magritte Museum (see previous blog post for more on that visit). 

While I was enjoying my waffle I heard some upbeat music beginning to play in the distance. I headed towards the music after I scarfed down the last bite of my waffle and ended up in an alley leading to the Grand Place. There was a light and music show going on! The giant Christmas tree was lit up too and was so magical I love Christmas season!!! The only downside was that people were packed in like sardines. It was beyond crowded and everyone was moving at a slow shuffle pace. That was the only time since I’ve been in Europe that I was worried about pickpockets, simply because of how tightly packed everyone was. I moved my backpack to my front just to be safe! No way was I going to try and move toward the middle of the square in that mess so I eventually managed to cut across on a short diagonal towards another connecting alleyway. After being sandwich like that I needed a drink.

It was early evening by the time I exited the Grand Place area and I began wandering towards the Delirium Café. The Delirium Café is more of a “campus” made up of a bunch of different bars, some bigger and rowdier, some smaller and more intimate. Each “sub-bar” sells different beers and alcohols. The entire Delirium campus offers more than 2,000 different kinds of beers so you’ll definitely find something you like! (I would hope haha). I wound up at Delirium Monasterium and the beer I ordered was a La Trappe Trippest, a Belgian beer on tap. I really liked this beer. I think it is one of the best beers I’ve ever tried. After trying three different kinds of Belgian beer over the course of my visit I can attest to the fact that Belgians know their beer. It is dang good. 

Fries! Or frites as they care called in Brussels. Belgium frites aren’t your typical paltry American style french fries. These are made from soft Belgian potatoes called bintjes and are thick cut fresh daily. No frozen ish. I usually prefer skinnier and crispier fries but I’ve had a change of heart haha. Belgian frites also differ from American french fries in that they are double fried. The second fry usually occurs in a lard to give the frites even more flavor. I wanted to try the best frites in the city so I walked 35 minutes to Maison Antoine. Maison Antoine double fries their frites and the second time is in beef lard. I read that the line at Maison Antoine can be 30 minutes to 45 minutes long at times! Luckily when I got there around 8:00pm on a Sunday night the line was only a few people long haha. I got a small order to-go. The frites are served in a paper cone with a sauce of your choosing. I chose to go with a Pouivre (pepper) sauce. Holy moly. These frites were so freakin’ good!!!!! No lie, the BEST fries I’ve ever had. Golden in color, crispy on the outside with a little crunch, not greasy, just soft and fluffy enough on the inside, and perfectly salted. I could’ve eaten two large bags by myself haha and regretted not getting the large sized bag to begin with. The sauce was a great compliment as well (I didn’t ask if it was mayonnaise based or what was in it as I really didn’t want to know lol). My frites “meal” was a fabulous dinner even by my high foodie standards. 

I thoroughly enjoyed my visit to Belgium! One of my favorite cities I’ve visited so far. I think a large reason behind that was the food hahaha but hey Brusselaars know that beer, chocolate, frites, and waffles are things that make their city great and they fully embrace that. So why shouldn’t I! 

[bookish-wanderer]

Hello! Welcome to Life of A Simple Reader! Today I’ve got a book blitz for a YA Fantasy novel (umm, it’s actually a HUGE series) called Forsaken Prince and you’ll find some eye candy covers, excerpts and a $50 Amazon Giftcard Giveaway for the U.S. residents in this post so I hope you’ll enjoy! Btw, you could check the tour schedule HERE!!

Title: Forsaken Prince (Kilenya Chronicles #1)

Author: Andrea Pearson

Genre: YA Fantasy

Release Date: November 1st, 2017

  About the Book

Jacob refuses the role of Forsaken Prince. Until his father and little sister are kidnapped…

When an attractive girl tells Jacob he’s the Forsaken Prince and that an entirely different planet needs his help, he calls her crazy and sends her on her way. But then he discovers dead demons in his house, his mother beaten, and his father and sister kidnapped, and he’s forced to begin a dangerous journey.

Now Jacob must team up with Aloren to find a magical key and stage a rescue with a tight deadline, all while making decisions that affect not only himself but hundreds of thousands of his subjects in this new world. Can he figure out his new magical powers fast enough and will he and Aloren reach Jacob’s father and sister before time runs out?

Forsaken Prince, Kilenya Chronicles Book One is an edge-of-your-seat story of fantasy, adventure, and exciting twists and turns. Grab your copy now to begin the magical journey!

  Add it on Goodreads!

  Buy Forsaken Prince on Amazon!

  All books in the Kilenya Chronicles series: (Amazon)

Forsaken Prince (Kilenya Chronicles #1)

Ember Gods (Kilenya Chronicles #2)

August Fortress (Kilenya Chronicles #3)

 Rise of Keitus (Kilenya Chronicles #4)

Eyes of the Sun (Kilenya Chronicles #5)

Golden Symbol (Kilenya Chronicles #6)

  Remember the eye candy covers I promised in the beginning? Well, here you go:

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Holy moly! A gorgeous PRINCE for each book?? YES, PLEASE!

  Forsaken Prince EXCERPT 1–Getting Home

The lights inside Jacob’s home were off. That wasn’t normal. Mom always kept lights on. She would rather pay an elevated electric bill than live in a dark house. Jacob flipped the switch. Nothing happened. He stepped inside, and something crunched under foot. He looked down. He’d stepped on broken glass. Jacob glanced around the room. All the bulbs had been shattered—the lamp near the front door, the overhead light, and the lamps on the shelves by the piano. Nothing else was broken. His heart did a little flip, and foreboding settled over him. What had happened? “Mom? Dad?” No answer. He stepped into the kitchen. Everything there was broken—not even the battery-operated clock on the wall was still ticking. Jacob’s breath caught when he spotted blood all along the edge of the counter. “Dad! Mom! Amberly!” In a rush, he searched the rest of the first floor, then bounded up the stairs. He didn’t get far before stumbling to a halt. A huge body was sprawled across the top of the staircase. Jacob gasped, stepping back involuntarily, and nearly fell down the stairs before catching himself. It wasn’t human. It couldn’t be. No human looked like that. He clung to the railing, staring at the dead beast. What the crap was it? The thing was huge. Humanoid, with stubby, muscular legs, massive arms, and four fingers on each hand. The wall all around it was splattered with blood and marred with spray from a shotgun. The creature wore dark leather pants. It wasn’t wearing a shirt, and Jacob nearly wretched as he stepped up the stairs and saw a huge gaping hole in the thing’s chest. More blood slicked down the stairs and pooled beneath the beast. The entire thing was covered everywhere with very short hair. Spikes jutted out from the lower jaw, coming to sharp points about two inches from the chin. The eyes had rolled back in the head, the lids open. Jacob stumbled up the stairs, trying not to touch the creature or its blood. Were there more of those things in the house? Was he in danger? And where were his parents? His breathing came in pants and gasps. His dad’s shotgun lay in the hall near the top of the stairs. Shells—some empty—were scattered across the floor. Jacob grabbed the gun and several of the shells, fumbling to load the weapon in case he needed to defend himself. Someone whimpered, and he rushed down the hallway. He passed another one of those beasts, this one missing a head. His stomach flipped. He refused to look at the gaping neck. “Hello?” he called out, clenching the shotgun. “Mom?” His parents’ room was empty. He barely glanced into his and Matt’s separate bedrooms before pausing in the doorway to Amberly’s. A familiar figure huddled on the other side of the princess bed, and he gasped. “Mom!” Jacob rushed to her side, dropping to his knees. He set down the gun and placed a hand on her shoulder. She jumped, shrinking against the wall, her hair falling over her face. “It’s me! It’s Jacob. Are you okay? What happened? What’s going on?” Mom slumped in relief and sobbed. “I’m so sorry.” He gently pushed her hair away from her face, then startled. She was covered in blood. Bruises were blossoming across her cheeks and neck. “What’s going on?” he repeated. “We tried . . . to protect you . . .” “Where are Amberly and Dad?” “They—they took them.” “They who?” Jacob asked. He pulled out his phone to call 911. “The Lorkon.” Mom’s eyes cleared as she concentrated on her son’s face. “They sent their servants. Your father and sister have been taken. You must go get them!”

  Forsaken Prince EXCERPT 2–Beasts in the Hole

Jacob was making his way over a very large section of dried mud when a cracking sound came from under him. He stopped and watched in dismay as a line shot across the surface, starting at his foot. He didn’t have time to react before the crust below him gave way. Jacob gasped, eyes widening as he clutched at the air, trying to find something, anything, to hold on to. He tipped backward and fell, the shell breaking as his body hit it. He was aware of Aloren’s scream, the bright sun in his eyes, and the scent of mud. Cold, damp air rushed past him, making a roar in his ears as he gained speed in his descent. With a thud, he landed on solid ground, and the wind whooshed out of his lungs. Everything threatened to go black. He forced his eyes open, and a dull ache built in his chest. “Jacob!” someone screamed. He tried to pull in the air he needed to breathe. It wouldn’t come, and panic washed over him. How far had he fallen? Everything was dark except for a small shaft of light that came in through the hole above him. His chest was on fire. The pressure built and built until finally, with a gasp, he drew in a ragged, painful breath. “I’m okay,” he called out weakly. Was he? Jacob tested all of his limbs—they each responded, and without pain. But when he tried to sit up, fire raced across his chest again. He must have broken a rib. Or several, judging by how painful it was to move. With difficulty, he rolled over and sat up, gasping for breath, working through the pain. His eyes widened when he saw a crumpled body near him. Aloren had fallen too—had her bubble broken when Jacob’s did? The hole above didn’t look that big. Her eyes were shut, her body unmoving. Jacob crawled to her, doing his best to ignore the agony ripping across his torso. Dark liquid dripped from a wound on her forehead, and judging by the awkward position of her body, she’d broken several bones. Was she even alive? Panic made Jacob’s hand shake as he checked for a pulse. He’d never been around a dead person before. “Please, please be alive,” he whispered. It took a moment to find the right spot in her neck, but he breathed a sigh of relief when he felt a faint heartbeat. Shuffling and grunting sounds reached Jacob’s ears. He looked around and felt his insides twist into knots. Several huge forms moved in the shadows, circling them just outside the ring of light. “Hello?” he yelled toward the hole above. “Is anyone there? We’re not alone down here.” The grunting grew louder, and Jacob stumbled to his feet, curling an arm around his side. He refused to face whatever was coming sitting down. He kept his eye on the closest form and blinked when a man’s hand became visible. What the . . .? The body it came from was definitely not human. The creature stepped forward, and Jacob gasped. It was a bear—or something very similar to one—with human hands and feet. Thick brown fur covered it snout to ankles, and the eyes, ears, and nose definitely belonged to a bear. It roared, and all similarities to a bear disappeared. The roar was like fingernails on a chalkboard times a thousand. The tongue was forked, and the teeth were green and long, like a saber-toothed tiger. The bear-like beast pounced, its movement eerily similar to a cat’s, and before Jacob could react, it had knocked him to the ground. He gasped through the pain, doing everything he could to keep those teeth away from his face. Adrenaline shot through his system, pushing the pain away and giving him more strength than he could have found without it. With a grunt, he rolled out from under the bear-thing, flinging it to the side away from Aloren. It was much lighter than a bear should have been. He growled when more of the creatures rushed him. He didn’t have time to concentrate, to think, to wonder how best to defend himself and the unconscious girl. Jacob practically danced around her, keeping the beasts back, throwing stones and pieces of broken shell at them and tossing the bears away when they got close. They formed a tight circle around him, coming closer and closer. Sweat trickled down his face and into his eyes, blurring his vision. A bear grabbed Jacob’s arm, yanking him away from Aloren just as one of them jumped on top of her, teeth flashing.

  About the Author

Andrea Pearson is an avid reader and outdoor enthusiast who plays several instruments, not including the banjo, and loves putting together musical arrangements. Her favorite sports are basketball and football, though several knee surgeries and incurably awful coordination prevent her from playing them.

Andrea graduated from Brigham Young University with a bachelor of science degree in Communications Disorders. She is the author of many full-length novels (the Kilenya Series and Mosaic Chronicles) and several novellas. Writing is the chocolate of her life – it is, in fact, the only thing she ever craves. Being with her family and close friends is where she’s happiest, and she loves thunderstorms, the ocean, hiking, public speaking, painting, and traveling.

Website  Blog  Facebook page  Facebook profile  Twitter  Goodreads  Amazon  Pinterest  Newsletter

  Last but definitely not least…

AMAZON GIFTCARD GIVEAWAY

There is a tour wide giveaway for the book blitz of Forsaken Prince. One winner will win a $50 Amazon Gift card. US Only.

  Enter here and good luck!!

  Thanks for reading & hope you have a great weekend!

  Until next time,

Jasmine 🙂

Book Blitz: Forsaken Prince (Kilenya Chronicles #1) by Andrea Pearson Hello! Welcome to Life of A Simple Reader! Today I've got a book blitz for a YA Fantasy novel (umm, it's actually a HUGE series) called…