#Rick would probably give the most vague explanation

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 8,347 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: the Greene farm Warnings: Language, violence, gore, attempted sexual assault, discussions of trauma, typical TWD A/N: This is Part 1 of the new miniseries! This should be 2 or 3 parts total, and it's kind of intense and a bit dark at certain points so heed the warnings ya'll. Summary: Y/N is considered quiet, standoffish, and even a bit odd by the group, but Daryl knows how much she does around camp to care for everyone. After a traumatic incident while searching for Sophia, Daryl starts to discover why Y/N is the way she is.

Your name: submit What is this?

The group was all sitting around the low campfire, eating some breakfast. The two Greene girls came out with baskets in hand. Beth approached Rick and held hers out. “We have some more eggs for you all. Our hens lay more than we can eat,” she said.

Rick gratefully accepted them with an earnest look and a nod. “Thank you. That’s very kind.”

“And some potatoes,” Maggie offered. Lori grabbed her basket.

“Really, you all are being so kind. If there’s anything we can do to help around the place just let us know,” she said.

Beth was looking off into the distance at you sitting alone, away from the group, your back to the farmstead. “What’s wrong with her?” she asked, without really thinking.

“Beth!” Maggie scolded her.

“Well, I—I just mean she never eats with ya’ll. She seems like she’s always off on her own,” Beth explained, a little sheepish from her sister’s scolding.

The rest of the group was looking your direction now too, many of them asking the same questions in their minds.

“C’mon, now. That’s enough,” Maggie said. “Daddy needs help with the laundry.”

The group watched them head back to the farmhouse and Shane was the next one to break the silence. “It’s a fair question,” he said, chuckling to himself wryly, glancing back over his shoulder at you before leaning in to grab another helping of breakfast. “She hasn’t exactly meshed into the fabric of the group, has she?”

“Shane, give it a rest,” Lori said sternly.

“No offense meant but I don’t think I’ve ever heard her say more than two words at a time,” Andrea said. “You can’t pretend like there isn’t something… odd there.”

Dale hummed. “Not that it’s really our business, but she’s never said anything about what happened to her before we found her out by the quarry. I’ve tried to ask her about her family, what she used to do before all this,” he shrugged vaguely. “Never got a thing out of her. That’s her right if she doesn’t want to talk about it, but it does seem a little strange.”

“That’s all I’m sayin’,” Shane said. “Somethin’ weird with that girl,” he trailed off.

Daryl stood up, annoyed. “Ya’ll are a buncha busy body gossips. If ya’d open your damn eyes for two seconds you’d realize she does more for this group than most of ya combined,” he growled. “She gathered that wood burnin’ in your fire right there. Them mushrooms mixed in with your damn eggs, who the hell ya think found those? Ya think they just magically appeared along with that stuff you’re usin’ to make tea every night?” He tossed his empty plate down on the grass and scoffed. “People who don’t trust easily usually got a damn good reason. ’M outta here.”

Shane watched him go in slight amusement, but most of the others looked a little ashamed of themselves. Daryl was right, of course. You did do a lot for the group. You just kept to yourself. You didn’t make a big show of bringing back some meat or foraged food. You never complained when Rick or Shane asked you to do something. You took more than your fair share of the night watches. And the fact that no one knew anything about your past, the fact that you didn’t talk much, didn’t need any explanation to Daryl. Based on his own background, he could guess there was a reason you were the way you were.

A short time later, Daryl noticed you gathering up your pack and grabbing your pistol and recurve bow. He wandered over as you were snapping your knife into its sheath at your hip. “Ya headin’ out to search again?” he asked softly. You and him seemed to be the only ones who hadn’t completely given up hope of finding Sophia. You simply nodded once.

“Alright,” Daryl drawled. “What’s your plan?” Asking a question that wasn’t a simple yes or no was always a toss-up with you. Half the time he’d get a short answer, half the time he wouldn’t.

“North side of the ridge,” you said. Your voice was always quiet and measured. The archer usually wished most people would talk less, but with you he always hoped to hear more. The little that you said was purposeful and deliberate. There was no idle bullshit.

He nudged his nose up in a nod at you. “Alright. I’ll start by that creek and work along the south side. We can be close by in case either of us gets into trouble with walkers,” he said.

You simply nodded again and gave him a long thoughtful look. You did that a lot. Daryl had the feeling there was a lot going on behind your eyes, but you never spoke any of it. Surprisingly, he never felt nervous or uncomfortable when you looked at him like that. He just hoped someday maybe you’d open up a little bit more. The next moment you had turned and were heading toward the tree line already. Daryl scrambled to gather his gear and set off after you.

He could see your figure ahead, disappearing into the brush and soon he couldn’t see or hear you at all. He set out along the south side of the ridge as planned, picking his way along the creek, scrutinizing every inch of ground and hoping for a shoeprint.

Along the north side you were doing the same. You frequently knelt to examine some little scrape in the litter or soil and as you went you filled the little cloth bag you carried with edible and medicinal plants, berries, and fungi. The day wore on with no sign of the little girl and your frustration and fear grew even as the sun reached its apex in the sky and started to drift back down toward the western horizon.

You turned and started picking a new path back, heading toward the farm now rather than away. The deepening shadows made detecting print or trail more difficult but you kept your focus sharp on the ground as you moved, your bow slung over your shoulder next to your quiver.

You were becoming tired when you noticed an impression in the mud. You knelt, one knee of your jeans sinking into the damp soil. It was a boot print, but certainly not left by Sophia. You stared at the detail of the sole impression and your brow drew down low immediately. You have everyone’s shoe designs memorized. It wasn’t one you recognized. Your eyes drifted up and you could see a worn trail through the underbrush and more prints, heavy in the mud. There were at least three men who had left this trail, and they weren’t walkers. The path was straight ahead with no stagger and you could tell they were picking their way through the underbrush. You crouched and started to follow the trail. You needed to get eyes on these people. They were awfully close to the farm… Close enough, certainly, to see the smoke rising from the chimney and your fire circles.

You ghosted through the woods following the trail, moving as silently as you could. You’d been on the path for probably ten minutes when you could hear careless, noisy movement ahead. You must have caught up with them. Your heart hammering in your chest, you stayed low and crept closer. As you moved around a partially downed tree you could finally see the shapes of two men ahead. They were scruffy and filthy, clearly living on the move in the woods. You needed a closer look. You wanted to see what kinds of weapons they had on them. If you could scout out the group, you could determine whether something needed to be done about them or not.

As you tried to shift to another patch of concealing cover, you didn’t notice your bow catching on a low hanging dead branch. By the time you felt the resistance it was too late. The whole branch pulled loose with a loud snapping sound as it bent and cracked other dried branches and twigs on its way down. The two men you had been watching spun immediately and had weapons raised, rifles pointed in your direction. You were swearing under your breath and instantly on your feet aiming your pistol right back.

“Well, shit! What the hell do we have here?” one of the men asked, shifting a little to get a better look at you. “You alone out here, sweetheart?”

You fell an immediate swell of anger and dread rising up in your chest.

“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” the second man asked, grinning and revealing teeth that were tobacco stained and yellow.

“What’s a fine little thing like you doing out here by yourself? Don’t you know it’s dangerous? There are all kinds of monsters in these woods,” the first man said, looking you up and down thoroughly. His companion laughed.

Fuck. This was bad. Why had you pushed your luck and crept in so closely? Now you were outnumbered and you knew there was at least one other man somewhere that you didn’t have eyes on.

Your chest was heaving with anxious breaths from the rush of adrenaline. The first man stepped a bit closer again and you responded by taking a measured step back, your pistol aimed squarely at his chest. Now what? Should you make a run for it? Would they shoot you? Based on the animalistic looks in their eyes you knew things could go very bad, very quickly if you couldn’t get the fuck out of there. Your mind was whirring.

Suddenly, you heard a stick crack behind you and you turned instinctively to see a third man now rushing you. He landed a fist into your jaw and your vision went black as you fell to the ground, holding onto your pistol as tightly as you could. The pain radiating from your jaw into your head was overwhelming. You blinked, willing the darkness to clear, but it lingered as you suddenly felt rough hands on you, rolling you over and ripping both your bow and rifle from your back.

You struggled blindly and managed to get yourself onto your back again as the darkness in your eyes faded instead to the outlines of blurred shapes. You could make out the shape of the man standing over you and you instinctively raised your pistol and squeezed several rounds which sounded like cracks of thunder in the close woods. You missed, the scene still foggy, and you immediately squeezed again and discharged another round but the man leapt down on you with a wild yell, knocking your arm to the side and pinning it into the ground. His weight pressed down on you and you were vaguely aware of an acrid smell filling your nostrils, causing bile to rise up in your throat. He pried your pistol from your hand and tossed it away into the brush.

You writhed beneath him, struggling to get clear of his grasp but he was much bigger than you and soon there was another set of hands on you. You were rolled onto your stomach again and your arms were pulled back behind you and held painfully tight.

“We got ourselves a wild cat here, boys!” one of the men laughed. “Get her up,” he ordered. You were pulled roughly onto your feet, still trying to blink away the remaining fuzziness in your eyes and struggling against your captor.

The first man, who seemed to be the leader, paced over, watching you with a look of satisfaction on his face as you still tried to fight loose. His rifle was now dropped casually by his side. He grabbed your chin cruelly and pulled it up so you looked right into his eyes. His fingers dug into the tender spot on your jaw where the other man had hit you. “Ain’t you a pretty little thing,” he murmured silkily.

You yanked your face from his grasp and he chuckled, glancing back at the other man standing just behind him. “She’s a good one,” he said, a sick smirk on his face. He looked back at you and his eyes roamed perversely over your body. “This’ll be fun.”

He turned violent and grabbed the front of your light cotton shirt, ripping it harshly down off one shoulder, tearing the breezy plaid fabric easily and popping off the first three buttons. The man holding you only tightened his grip. Your throat constricted so tightly it was hard to breathe. You felt like your heart was beating so hard that it would surely burst. You could feel everyone’s eyes on your newly bared skin. Next the leader withdrew a knife and pressed the point into the center of your chest just above your bra. You cringed at the feeling of the biting cold metal pricking your skin.

He stepped close into you and moved the knife up to your throat, pressing it to the side of your neck and drawing it lightly across your skin just enough to cut you. You winced and shut your eyes, trying to keep as still as possible with that blade to your throat and you soon felt a rivulet of warmth rolling down toward your collarbone. You opened your eyes as the knife left your throat and he slipped it under your exposed bra strap, rotating it and lifted up until the fabric started to separate along the sharp edge. Finally, it gave and the strap hung loosely down. He sucked in a hiss of breath through his teeth, his eyes hungry and crazed. “This will be a lot easier on you if you just cooperate. Then again… I like a woman with some fight in her,” he snarled. “Your choice.” His companions let out more appreciative laughter as fear twisted your stomach.

You felt yourself going numb. Suddenly, you couldn’t feel any pain anymore. You couldn’t feel the man’s hands pinning your arms back. You couldn’t feel the blood that was now running down your chest. Your eyes drifted to the leader’s cold, blue blade and then unfocused so the scene simply became a haze. And you suddenly realized that they hadn’t taken your knife. It was still in its sheath on your hip…

A short distance away, Daryl had been thinking that it was probably about time to call it a day and head back when he heard a series of loud gunshots. His body went rigid and he turned frantically, staring off into the brush. He strained his hearing to its limit. They’d definitely come from your direction. Abandoning any other thought, he sprung into motion, racing through the woods as fast as he could in the direction he thought the blasts had come from.

Back in camp, everyone else had heard the shots too. Shane turned and looked at Rick, his gaze intense.

“Were those gun shots?” Lori asked, fear in her voice.

“Yeah,” Rick said, rising to his feet and rushing to grab his gun from the stash of weapons in the RV. “Shane, T, Glenn, let’s go! The rest of you stay here!”

Hershel stepped out onto the porch and watched the group of men racing across the pasture toward the trees. He had a bad feeling in his gut. Maggie and Beth came out, the slamming screen door punctuating the piercing silence that fell after the shots.

Daryl smashed through the brush carelessly, his eyes scanning the ground for a trail, any trail, something to follow. Finally, his eyes locked on boot prints that were surely yours. He vaguely registered that there were much larger impressions in the soil too, several different boots much larger than yours. And they certainly weren’t from walkers.

“Son of a bitch,” he cursed under his breath. He froze and scanned the thick greenery. He strained his hearing again, listening for some sound, anything, to give him an idea of what was happening. Please don’t let me be too late, he thought frantically. He took off again but more cautiously, following the tracks you had clearly also discovered. Probably what had led you right into something…

Rick and the others were well into the trees now but Shane stopped everyone. “Rick, what the hell are we doin’ man? We don’t have a clue where Y/N and Daryl are. We can’t just go blindly crashing through here or we’re gonna end up in a bad spot too.”

Rick’s eyes frantically whirred over the seemingly endless tree trunks.

“Wait—I saw Y/N’s map yesterday. She had the whole thing sectioned out into search areas,” Glenn said. “Most of them were already crossed off.”

“Well, which ones weren’t?” Shane urged, checking to make sure there was a round chambered in his gun.

“Uhh—” Glenn’s mind raced. “I think—I think by that ridge, straight north of here. But I can’t be sure,” he trailed off.

Rick rubbed a hand over his face. They all listened for any sound, but the woods were oppressively silent now. “Shit…” he cursed under his breath.

“It’s the best we got,” T gasped, out of breath from the frenetic dash from camp.

Rick nodded. “Alright. Then we head north. Keep your heads on a swivel and your eyes peeled for any sign of Y/N or Daryl.”

Daryl moved as swiftly along the trail as he could. Suddenly, he spotted something lying on top of the litter out of the corner of his eye. Your pistol. Daryl grabbed it and the muzzle was still warm. Clearly, you’d been the one to fire at least some of those shots. “Fuck. Fuck…” He tucked it into his waistband and moved more cautiously now. His heart was pounding and sweat was pouring down his forehead. His knuckles were white on his crossbow. He rounded a downed tree and froze when he saw a dark shape on the ground ahead. His heart dropped into his stomach. Please don’t let it be Y/N… He was almost paralyzed with fear but he forced himself to take another couple steps. As he rounded the brush and straightened up, he knew it wasn’t you but his apprehension didn’t evaporate. It was a large man, clearly dead, completely covered in blood. The hair on the back of Daryl’s neck suddenly stood on end and he spun around, his crossbow up to his eye, ready to fire. But he dropped it involuntarily as he took in the scene before him, his jaw dropping partially open and his eyes narrowing as he tried to figure out what the fuck he was seeing.

You were standing there in front of him trembling from head to toe, your hands out in front of you with your knife clutched in one like it was a lifeline. Daryl could easily see the shakiness in your hands. You were completely covered in blood. Your clothing and skin were soaked in it, like you’d bathed in a crimson river. There was thick splatter on your face, neck, and chest. Your eyes were wide and fixed and you didn’t show any awareness that he was there in front of you. Daryl registered that your shirt was torn down from one shoulder and your bra strap had been cut. He didn’t need an explanation to know what the fuck had happened and rage swelled in his chest, stoking an intense fire. His eyes drifted down to two more bodies lying at your feet, each with uncountable stab wounds and one with his throat cut, his clothing drenched. The metallic smell of blood was in the air and Daryl could almost taste it on his tongue.

Still you showed no awareness that he was there. You seemed frozen, catatonic. He now registered that you had slash wounds through the fabric of your sleeves and cuts on your arms. Defensive wounds where you had blocked a knife attack. There was a purposeful cut partially up the hem of your jeans at the bottom, clearly from one of the men… It was nearly impossible to tell if you were hurt anywhere else because there was just so much blood…

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he murmured. “Y/N?” He took a cautious step toward you. “Y/N? Can ya hear me?”

Nothing. No reaction at all.

Just then Daryl heard the noise of several people in the woods nearby and he planted himself between you and the sound, raising his crossbow. “Ya better get the fuck outta here unless ya want an arrow between the eyes!” he roared.

Rick straightened up. That was Daryl. “Daryl?!”

Daryl gulped. “…Rick?”

“Yeah, it’s me, Shane, Glenn, and T! We’re comin’ to you! Are you alright?”

Daryl glanced back at you again. You were still just standing there shaking. “‘M fine. Wasn’t me who fired…” Daryl swung his pack off his back and dug inside it.

The men crashed through the underbrush and came into view, taking in the scene. “Oh my God.” The words spilled from Glenn’s lips. They were all glancing from the bloody bodies on the ground to your blood-soaked figure.

“Jesus Christ,” Shane uttered, pacing closer and bending to look at the slash wound in the one corpse’s neck. Daryl finally laid hands on his poncho and yanked it out of his bag. He turned to look at you and began approaching cautiously. “Y/N? It’s Daryl. Can ya hear me?”

Nothing.

Rick was slack-jawed as he looked at the scene. “Daryl… be careful,” he cautioned, eyeing the knife still gripped in your fist.

Daryl glanced back at him. “She ain’t gonna do nothin’ to me,” he drawled.

“Do you see this?” Glenn asked him urgently indicating the bodies. “This is insane. You don’t know that! She looks completely out of it, like she doesn’t even know we’re here!”

Daryl’s jaw clenched and he turned back to look at you again. “Don’t ya fuckin’ see her? She’s terrified. Look at her clothes. They were tryin’ to rape her,” he growled. “They deserve what they got.”

Shane straightened up from examining the bodies, glancing furtively over at you. “Maybe but… on the force, we’d call this ‘overkill’,” he said, backing up and exchanging a glance with Rick.

Daryl ignored him. “Y/N? It’s alright. You’re safe. Nobody is gonna hurt ya. Just lemme take your knife, okay?” There was no recognition on your face, your eyes still wide and fixed, until Daryl’s hand gently closed over yours and started to open your hand around the handle of your knife. He could feel you shaking beneath his fingers. “S’alright,” he said softly as your eyes landed on his face and then locked with his. Your brow drew down low, casting a shadow over the vaguely confused look on your face. As Daryl gently took your knife, he could see there was a very deep gash in your palm. It was bleeding heavily. He guessed it was either another defensive wound from you putting your hands up to stop one of the men’s knives or otherwise your hand, slick with blood, had slipped down onto your own blade when you’d been fighting them. “Glenn, get some gauze out of my pack and bring it over here,” he said. He spoke calmly and softly. He glanced back over at Glenn when he didn’t move from his slack-jawed frozen position. “Glenn. Gauze.” Glenn snapped himself out of it and went to Daryl’s bag. The archer gulped and draped his poncho over you, covering your ripped shirt. “S’alright,” he murmured again.

You didn’t take your eyes off his face. He wasn’t even sure if you realized the others were there. Glenn walked forward and handed Daryl the small roll of sterile gauze before backing up slowly. The look in your eyes was haunted and dazed and it left all of them feeling empty and concerned.

Daryl opened your hand flat and your eyes drifted down to watch him wrap the bandage over the wound on your palm. You couldn’t feel it. You couldn’t really feel anything, except Daryl’s hands on yours.

Shane turned to Rick. “Rick, what the hell are we gonna do about this? We can’t just waltz her back into camp covered in blood. You don’t want the others seein’ this… Carl? Lori? Or Hershel. Look at her. She looks completely unstable. This might be enough for him to kick us out right now.” He looked back at you over his shoulder.

Rick sighed heavily. “So, we’ll get her cleaned up first.”

Daryl was keeping one ear on the conversation going on behind him. “She needs stitches on this hand,” he drawled. “And who knows how else she’s hurt. Can’t see a damn thing on her right now. And since ya’ll are more worried about yourselves than her, I’ll take care of it. Why don’t ya just get the hell outta here,” Daryl growled.

Glenn stepped forward. “We are worried about her. But you have to admit that this is—this is—” He didn’t even know what word to use. Daryl just stared at him. You were hugging your arms around yourself now, still shaking. Your eyes were downcast, staring unseeing at the ground.

“Listen, I don’t give a shit what ya do. I’m gettin’ her outta here and taken care of.” He hastily shouldered his pack and his crossbow.

“Just—Daryl,” Rick started, pinching the bridge of his nose, the situation weighing on him heavily. “Clean her up a bit before you take her to Hershel to be looked over.”

The archer eyed him through a narrow glare for a moment before he nodded. He turned back to you, your frame swallowed up in his poncho. “C’mon. Let’s get ya home,” he said gently. Your eyes snapped up to his face again and you allowed him to lead you back toward the farmstead.

He picked a path carefully and finally the two of you broke out from the edge of the forest. The others back in the camp were staring at the tree line, wracked with nerves. Lori straightened up as she recognized movement. “Dale—someone just stepped out.”

Dale, standing on the RV, raised his binoculars to his eyes. “Oh my,” slipped from his lips.

“What? Who is it?” Carol asked anxiously.

“I think it’s Y/N and Daryl,” Dale said. “I can’t quite tell properly, but I think something is wrong with Y/N.” He squinted into the binoculars again. “My God. Her jeans are covered in blood and it—it looks like there’s blood on her neck, her face…”

Carol pressed a hand over her mouth. “Is she hurt?” she asked anxiously. “Was she bit?”

Dale shook his head, lowering the binoculars again. “They’re too far. I can’t tell what’s going on.”

Daryl looked up to see everyone standing almost in a line watching the two of you as you started across the field. He gulped and then put a hand lightly on your back, nervous and unsure of how you would react to the contact. He guided you toward his camp which was closest and was set apart from everyone else’s.

“C’mon and sit down, alright. We’re just gonna clean ya up a bit and then take ya to Hershel.” The look in your eyes was worrying him immensely but you sat down on a round of wood pulled up near the fire ring. He anxiously chewed on his bottom lip, trying to figure out how he could reassure you. “Hey. S’alright. You’re safe.”

You met his blue eyes and he finally saw some sense of relief in them. His stomach flipped at the way they softened and he nodded. He took in the sight of you in his poncho again and realized you’d need something else to wear to go see Hershel that wasn’t half ripped off you. “I’m gonna, uhh—” he cleared his throat nervously. “I’ll put a clean shirt out on my cot for ya. Ya can change in in my tent and then we’ll just clean ya up a bit, alright?” He knew better than to wait for a response and climbed to his feet and disappeared into his tent to set the clothes out. He dug around in his duffel bag until he found one that was still folded tightly, definitely clean, and he set it out for you. You watched the handsome archer reemerge from inside his tent and nod his head toward it. “Alright. Go ahead. I’ll just be right out here.”

He watched you get up and disappear, zipping the door behind you. He paced in front of the fire circle, rubbing his thumb over his bottom lip thoughtfully as the image of you standing there in the woods, frozen, absolutely soaked in blood with your shirt half torn surged forward in his mind and he felt another sickening swell of anger. Jesus. Things could have gone so bad with those men… and they were fucking lucky they were already dead when he got there.

The soft rustling of the tent fabric interrupted his thoughts and you stepped out in his long-sleeved flannel, looking a bit dazed still but more grounded. He nudged his nose up in a nod. “C’mon and sit down,” he said, gesturing to the round of wood again. You sank down on it. Daryl grabbed a bucket of clean water that had been warming in the sun all day. He grabbed a cloth from inside his tent and caught sight of your bloody and torn shirt discarded on the floor, feeling another tight twist between his lungs, like someone had tugged a knot there.

You watched him kneel down in front of you and sink the cloth into the bucket of water, wringing it out before bringing it close to your face. He hesitated short of touching you. “S’this alright?” he drawled.

You gave him a questioning look but finally nodded, just one slight tip of your chin. You closed your eyes as the fabric came in contact with your cheek and Daryl started wiping away the blood. The cloth stained crimson quickly. He cleaned the splatters from across your forehead and your nose and the spots on the other side of your face. With the red stains gone, Daryl could see the shadow of a deep bruise along the side of your jaw. Without thinking he gently clasped your chin and turned your head so he could examine it, a heavy shadow falling over his blue eyes. He sunk the cloth back into the bucket of water and wrung it out again, this time pressing it to the side of your neck.

Despite how gentle he was being, you involuntarily sucked in a sharp hiss of air through your teeth as the cloth found the cut on the side of your neck from the leader’s knife. Your eyes blinked open through your wince.

“Sorry,” Daryl drawled, pulling back to look at the wound. “Jesus… Those assholes had a knife to your neck?” he asked. It was rhetorical and he didn’t expect an answer. He wiped at the blood spatter and you closed your eyes again, trying to breathe deeply and still the trembling you still felt wracking through you. Daryl could hear a shaky quality in your breathing. Soon, your face and neck were clean and Daryl turned his attention to your hands. Your eyes were still shut as he rinsed the cloth out again in the bucket. “Lemme see your hands,” he said softly. You found the deep gravel of his voice comforting.

Out of everyone in your group, you usually felt like Daryl was the only one who really saw you. You’d wanted to get to know him better, but held yourself back. He seemed to seek solitude like you did, and you didn’t want to force yourself into his world.

He took your hand, your palm resting against his, and he swept the cloth lightly over the back of it and down each finger. The sensation sent goosebumps rising on your skin and you glanced up at the concerned and intent expression on his face curiously. You couldn’t even remember the last time anyone had shown you so much attention and care. He took your other hand in his now, the one with gauze around it and the deep gash in your palm. He rubbed the blood from the back of each finger and then flipped it over in his hand. He frowned as he noticed that your blood had soaked through the bandage. “Probably need stitches on this one,” he murmured softly. The cloth tickled over the underside of each finger now, sweeping off the ends. “Alright. Push up them sleeves,” he said, dunking the cloth into the bucket again for what felt like the hundredth time.

“What?” He was startled by your voice and his eyes snapped up to look at you.

He straightened up, one of his eyebrows quirking down at the question. “Ya had a buncha cuts on your arms. We need to clean ‘em up and check ‘em. See if ya need stitches anywhere else.”

You shook your head.

He gave you a questioning look for a long moment and chewed on his bottom lip. “Alright. Ya can do it. I’ll just go tell Hershel you’re on your way in, alright?”

You stared at him for another long moment as he set the cloth on the edge of the bucket, whose water was now stained a dark pink. You glanced up as he climbed to his feet and nodded.

“Alright,” he said. “C’mon up when you’re done and we’ll get that hand taken care of.”

Daryl started over toward the farmhouse and as he approached Carol rushed up to him. “What happened?” she urged him. “Are you okay? Is Y/N?”

He stopped, his hand on one hip. He glanced back out toward the trees and saw the rest of the group making their way back toward camp across the field. “‘M fine,” he drawled. “Y/N ran into some men out there when we were searchin’.”

“Men? What men? What happened? Is she alright?”

Daryl chewed his bottom lip and shrugged vaguely. “I don’t know how to—how to answer that,” he said truthfully.

Confusion muddled Carol’s expression and she glanced in the direction of you over at Daryl’s camp. “Well, what happened?” she asked again.

Daryl looked at her seriously and shrugged vaguely. “Y/N killed ‘em. Didn’t have no choice.” He continued his path up to the house and bounded up the porch steps, knocking on the front door. Carol stared after him, a bit shocked. Maggie answered, looking worried.

“Were those gun shots earlier?” she asked.

Daryl nodded. “Mhm… Hey, can your dad take a look at Y/N?”

“Of course. What happened?” she asked, holding the screen door open so he could step inside.

Hershel was there in an instant. “Daryl. What happened? We heard those shots.”

“Y/N and I were out lookin’ for Sophia. There were some men. She—she ran into some trouble.”

Hershel took a deep breath and nodded. “Is she alright?”

“I think she needs stitches in her hand. She took a good hit to her jaw too. Might have a concussion. I dunno,” he said. He anxiously chewed on his bottom lip again. “I know she’s got some cuts on her arms, defensive wounds, but she wouldn’t let me look at ‘em. Got a cut on her neck.”

“Oh my God,” Maggie said, her hand flying up to her mouth.

“What happened to the men?” Hershel asked.

Daryl quit chewing the side of his thumbnail. “Dead,” he said, watching the old farmer’s reaction closely, but the man’s face was blank. He simply nodded.

“I’ll get my kit. Have her come on in.”

Daryl headed back onto the porch to see how you were doing and you were on your way over. His eyes caught on the dark splatters and stains of blood on your jeans and the slit at the bottom. His stomach twisted. Maybe he should have had you change clothes completely… You were trying to ignore the eyes on you as you made your way over to the house.

Andrea and Lori exchanged a look at the state of your clothes.

“Come on in here and sit down,” Hershel said kindly. “Let’s take a look at that hand.” You offered up your gauze-wrapped hand and Hershel laid it out on the table, unwrapping the already blood-soaked bandage and taking a look at the deep gash. “Pretty deep cut here. Definitely need stitches.” He grabbed a needle from his kit and pricked the end of each of your fingers. They all twitched in response. “You can feel that?” You nodded. “Good. Looks like we dodged any nerve damage. Much deeper and you would have needed major surgery for a cut tendon and who knows what else. Maggie, dear, would you get the sutures set up while I clean this off?”

Nerve damage. Cut tendon. Daryl shifted uncomfortably in his spot leaned up against the wall. You hardly seemed to react to the news at all.

Hershel swabbed at your hand and you shut your eyes against the bite of the alcohol. “Now, Daryl tells me you took a good hit to the jaw. I’m just gonna check it and make sure nothing is broken.” He palpated both sides of your face, across your cheekbones and up your jawline. “Just a bit swollen,” he said. “Did you lose sight when you were hit?” he asked you, grabbing a small pen light and checking the dilation response of each of your pupils. You gulped and nodded. “Do you remember your name?” he asked you. You nodded again. “I need you to answer my questions verbally. I’m interested in your answers but also your speech.”

“My name’s Y/N.”

“When is your birthday?” Hershel asked.

You stared at him. “No one here knows my birthday. How will you know if I’m right or not?”

A small smile grew on Hershel’s face. “I’d say your speech and cognition are fine. Probably a mild concussion though with your eyesight blacking out. You’ll need to take it easy the next few days, rest and fluids, and let me know if you develop any new symptoms like vomiting or nausea, confusion, a worsening headache. Understand?”

You nodded again. “Yes. I understand.”

“Sutures are ready,” Maggie said.

Hershel put on a pair of clean gloves and prepared. “I’m afraid I don’t have anything to numb you,” he said, propping your hand up on a towel so he could see it better.

“It’s alright. I would have told you to save it anyway,” you said. Daryl straightened up from his place against the wall and came to stand next to you. You could feel his eyes on your face.

“You’re one tough cookie,” Hershel said. “Let’s get this taken care of.” You hardly flinched as he passed the needle through…

Outside, Rick and the others were just arriving back at camp. Everyone gathered around and seemed to read on their faces that they were all unsettled.

“Rick,” Lori said, grabbing him into a hug. “What happened? We saw Daryl and Y/N come back. Her jeans were covered in blood.”

Rick looked down at her. “Nothing to worry about. It’s been taken care of.”

“Well, what was it?” Lori pressed him, her eyes still a bit wide and fearful.

Carol spoke up. “Daryl said she ran into some men and they’re—she killed them.”

Glenn and T were avoiding everyone’s eyes while Shane let out a frustrated sigh and paced away from the group, disagreeing with Rick still about the decision not to tell everyone you had clearly gone slasher on those assholes. Provoked or justified or not, Shane felt like that was something everyone should know. He’d gone far enough to describe you as a serial killer before Rick had stood him down. Rick nodded and looked at his wife and then at Andrea and Dale. “Y/N was attacked and she dealt with it. Hershel is gonna patch her up and there’s nothing to worry about.

“What if there are more of those men?” Carol asked fearfully.

“We only ever saw three different boot prints out there,” T reassured her. “But we’ll keep watch like we always do. We’ll be fine.”

Everyone still looked uneasy, but settled back into their tasks. Lori was about to go fetch some more water when Shane grabbed her arm and tugged her around the side of the SUV. She gave him a stern look and pulled her arm from his grasp.

“What?” she snapped at him, a bit unkindly.

“Rick ain’t tellin’ you everythin’,” he said.

Lori just stared Shane with a guarded expression. “I trust my husband. And you used to, too.”

“Yeah, well… What happened out there today? It should concern everyone.” His expression was dark and Lori felt her sense of unease grow.

Shane rubbed a hand over the stubble on his face. “Y/N just—” Shane let out a sigh that had the edge of a growl to it.

“What are you talking about?” Lori pressed him in an undertone. “Are we in danger?”

Shane straightened up and pressed his lips into a thin line briefly before meeting her eyes. “Honestly? I don’t know. But I’m not taking my eyes off that girl.”

Inside, Hershel tied off the final stitch and snipped the suture. “All done.” He applied a layer of antibacterial ointment and wrapped your hand in a fresh dressing. “Try to keep it dry. And I mean it,” he gave you a pointed look, “take it easy for a few days. Daryl, you hold her to that. Anything else you need me to look at? Your arms? Daryl said—” You shook your head no. “Alright.”

The archer straightened up as you climbed to your feet. “Thank you,” you murmured to Hershel.

Daryl held the door for you and you cringed at how everyone’s eyes were on you immediately as you stepped out onto the porch. You avoided them and started heading in the direction of your camp. Daryl was still in step beside you and you hazarded a glance in his direction.

He could read a question in your eyes. “I’ll keep ya company for a bit if that’s alright... Besides, ya should be restin’ and somebody needs to make sure ya take care of yourself.” You didn’t say anything, but that also wasn’t a refusal. Daryl could tell you were still reeling a bit, and he wanted to be there just in case.

You arrived at your separate camp area and watched as Daryl immediately went and stirred up the coals in the fire, adding more wood and soon having a nice blaze going. You headed for your tent and glanced back over your shoulder at him. “Just gonna change,” you said softly. He nodded and went about heating something for you to eat along with water for tea. He was sure you had collected more ingredients and remembered that your bag was still sitting at his camp. He jogged to grab it and brought it back along with your bloodied and torn shirt, not sure what else to do with it. When he got back, you were sitting by the fire in clean and comfortable clothes, his shirt resting over your lap. You held it out to him as he dropped your pack beside you.

“Thanks,” he murmured. The fabric was still warm from your body. “Dunno what ya wanna do with this,” he said, holding yours out in turn.

You stared at it for a long moment before your fingers closed on it and Daryl watched as you immediately tossed it into the fire. In a moment, it was only ashes and embers. He sank down beside you and felt you studying him. He turned and met your eyes and was surprised when you spoke. “You aren’t afraid of me now? Like the others?” you asked softly.

“Nah. Why would I be?”

Your striking eyes focused back on the crackling campfire and the embers dancing upward on the warm torrent of air. “You saw what I did. Why wouldn’t you be?”

Daryl peered at you curiously for a long moment. “Ya were only protectin’ yourself. Can’t say I wouldn’t have done worse if I’d been there,” he drawled, and you could hear anger in the tension in his voice.

“I blacked out,” you said suddenly.

“When they hit ya? Ya, yer gonna have a good bruise tomorrow.”

“That’s not what I mean.” You cradled your injured hand absently in the other. “The last thing I remember was the one starting to cut my jeans and then—then I was just covered in blood and they were all dead. And next thing I know you were taking my knife from me.” You shut your eyes for a moment. “I don’t remember anything else.”

Daryl considered the regretful expression on your face. “Don’t matter. Yer safe. That’s what counts. Those men? They had it comin’.”

You looked up at him in surprise and he simply nodded and then grabbed a mug and filled it with hot water for you. You accepted it and dug into your bag, pulling out the small sack of foraged herbs from the day. You dropped a few berries and leaves into your mug and cradled it with your uninjured hand.

It was nearly sunset and the quality of the light was cooling, oranges turning to reds and then fading into deep purples and inky blues. You allowed yourself to frequently study the archer as he shoved a bowl of reheated stew into your hands or added more wood to the fire. You felt surprisingly at ease with him there and he didn’t seem at all bothered by the passing of so much silence. Maybe the concussion just had you slightly numb, but you didn’t think so.

“You aren’t going to ask me?” you finally said.

Daryl looked over at you and he felt a stirring in his chest at the way the firelight was catching the shine and colors in your hair and the soft shape of your lips. “Ask ya what?”

“How I—Why I—” You didn’t even know how to phrase it really.

Daryl watched you struggled for a moment. “Ain’t none of my business. But if ya wanted to talk about it, I’ll listen. Not gonna lie and say I haven’t wondered about what came before ya were with the group.”

You had been on the verge of speaking it but suddenly lost your nerve and sipped at your tea again. Daryl watched you withdrawing again and rubbed a hand a bit nervously over the back of his neck. Darkness had fallen completely now. “Well, I’ll leave ya alone. Yer probably sick of me anyway,” he drawled. “Get some rest, alright?” Daryl had climbed to his feet and started to head in the direction of his own tent but your voice froze him.

“It’s not that I want to be alone all the time…” Daryl could hear the crackling of the fire in the silence that followed. “It’s just that alone usually feels safer.”

He glanced back at you, turning partially. “Ya. I know the feelin’,” he said gently, pacing back.

You looked up at him and something about your expression, your wide eyes, went straight to his core. “Stay,” you said quietly. “Please.” You chewed on your bottom lip for a moment. “Being with you feels safer…” you admitted, timidly.

Daryl felt an ache in his chest and nodded. He grabbed a seat beside you again and puzzled over this unprecedented turn of events.

You seemed to come to some decision suddenly and looked over at him intensely. He caught your eyes briefly and then watched as you pushed up your right sleeve. At first all he saw were the knife cuts, crimson against your skin, but you turned your forearm toward him in the firelight. “This is what I didn’t want you to see,” you said. You gulped. You’d never told anyone, never shown anyone, literally never talked about what had happened to you since you got out. You’d vowed that you would just move on, but the longer you suffered in silence the worse it seemed to get, until you felt like it would consume you. And then today, with those men, you’d just completely lost it. It had triggered something, a memory or maybe more like a nightmare, and when you came to you were bathed in blood and didn’t even recognize yourself, couldn’t believe what you’d done. Enough was enough. Maybe if you spoke it, admitted it, dealt with it in some way… maybe it’d get easier.

Daryl stared at a scar on your forearm. It looked like a brand and the skin was still slightly pink, showing that it wasn’t that old. It was four numbers. 1048.

[twdmusicboxmystery]

Insights From the Talk Dead to Me Podcast

Okay, I teased everyone over the weekend that I’d have a lot to talk about today, and here it is. There was SO much interesting information in this podcast. 

New Mexico Symbolism

TD isn’t by far the only ones to connect the New Mexico symbolism. On the podcast, they talked extensively about that and about how it will probably play into the sequel. One theory they had (and I hope they’re wrong) is that they think Aaron will get Rick’s comic book death. They think it would mess with Daryl’s head so bad, it would “run him out of town.”

Personally, I don’t think Daryl would leave JUST because Aaron died. For all the reasons many of us have already talked about (him taking care of Judith and RJ, etc). If anything, I think it would make him want to stay more and look after Gracie as well. I really don’t want Aaron to die, though. Unfortunately, it would make sense for him to die, what with him being such a heavy Beth proxy so often, but I’d really like him and Beth to meet first. Just my head canon, but I can’t help it. And they may have a point about Rick’s CB death, given that Aaron has already lost his arm. 

Why Extended Seasons Instead of Just Doing S12?

You know how I keep saying it’s weird that they’re doing this massively extended S11 rather than just breaking it into S11 and S12? Yeah, this podcast told me why, and it makes perfect sense. In a nutshell: many of the actors’ contracts expire after S11. AMC doesn’t want to renegotiate everyone’s contract for only one season.

And that’s something I’m positive has changed. If they were going to season 15, they would have just renegotiated the contracts, no problem. But since they’ve decided to end it now, it would have been WAY more inconvenient. And the people on the podcast made a good point, saying that if the actors’ agents find out the show REALLY NEEDS them for one final season, they’re gonna come back with astronomical demands. And given the state of the world, covid, etc., those kinds of monetary demands really could tank the final season. So, I’m glad to know that. It makes tons of sense.

Let’s Talk AMC’s Social Media Practices

So, several of these people who do the podcast correspond with AMC regularly for social media reasons. They talked about how they’ll often press the AMC representatives they talk to for more information. For the most part, they get the same, vague promises we all get from Gimple. “We’re working on a script.”  Or the classic, “I don’t know any more than you,” crap. But these podcasters said things might have changed logistically with the Rick Grimes films as well. You know how back when Rick left, Gimple said they’d be doing a 3-film trilogy? Well, apparently, people have begun to notice that ever since then, and especially since CoVid, any time anyone close to the shows references the Rick Grimes films, they talk about them in the singular, not the plural. The Rick Grimes FILM, not the Rick Grimes films. And the podcasters think it’s because the show is playing it by ear. Due, again, to financial concerns, maybe they’ll just make one film and see how well it’s received before deciding to make another. Obviously, I disagree with that idea. I do think things might have changed, the same as them ending the series after S11, in that they might use something other than films to continue Rick’s story. But I think they have a specific story to tell and they’re going to tell it, one way or the other.

I also think they got a bigger backlash about the films than they were expecting. People really threw tantrums about the idea of having to pay money to see it in the theaters. People are just used to getting it free on TV, and I think the reaction took tptb by surprise. Anyway, now with CoVid, and theater attendance WAY down, and heaven only knows where we’ll be in a year, it wouldn’t surprise me if AMC and Gimple are rethinking that tactic. Maybe they’ll only do one film and then segue Rick into another series. Either his own, or the Daryl/Carol one. Kirkman ended the comics in the summer of 2019. That was AFTER Rick’s last episode. So I’m willing to bet that all the changes and shuffling started as soon as the comics ended. However it happens, it does show that more than one thing is being shuffled behind the scenes due to CoVid. But listening to this gave me a huge epiphany that I became illogically excited about, lol. It was nothing they said, but just me thinking through the implications of all of this. I’ve always believed Rick would return in some way. And even though I’d be totally cool with him having a reunion with his kids in one of the Rick Grimes films or whatever, I’ve always had a sense that he would return to the series, despite them telling us he wouldn’t. Well, as I said yesterday, the idea of him returning seems much less likely now that we know they’re ending after S11. But…something occurred to me. Gimple has adamantly said Rick won’t return to the TWD series. He’s never said anything about him not moving to any spinoffs. *mic drop*

Thoughts About the Daryl/Carol Spinoff

Nothing too groundbreaking here, but they did say that the Donnie shippers are super frustrated, which I’m sure is true. They said the Caryl shippers are happy, but not too over-the-top happy about it. (Their words. I really couldn’t say whether that’s true or not.)

They also said that, given how much the show has told us there won’t be romance between them, it will either be the ultimate reward for the Carylers (if they get together romantically) or the ultimate tease (if they don’t).

So, my point is that, outside the hardcore shippers at least, most of the fandom isn’t really thinking this is going to be a romance thing with Carol and Daryl. And because of that, they’re wondering where the show could possibly go with Daryl and Carol. Like, they’ve explored their relationship as far as they can and they’re questioning whether this series revolving around them will be worth watching.

Now, if we didn’t know what we know or hadn’t theorized what we have, I would agree whole-heartedly with that. There has to be more to this spinoff than just Daryl and Carol running around killing zombies together. Even the GA is a little confused about this and thinks there must be more to the story. And, you know, there will be.

Coda Replay (And We Didn’t Even Realize It!)

This came together for me from multiple sources. I have an Ask in my inbox that I haven’t answered yet. It’s from a Nonny who obviously wrote in when the big news broke. He/she says that AMC announced the end of the series and the spin off…and then deleted the post. I wasn’t sure what to make of that, because it doesn’t seem to me like anything’s been deleted. At least on Twitter, the post with the press release and the announcement is still pinned to the top of the account. And probably different click bait sites have reported on it. So they don’t seem to be trying to hide it. I didn’t really know what to make of that, except maybe one of the posts was deleted for logistical reasons (typo or something) and then reposted, and the Nonny just thought it was suspicious when really, it wasn’t. Then I listened to this podcast. And guess what? One of the clickbait sites that was slated to give the announcement, IGN, posted it like two hours early…and then deleted their post.

One of the women they talked to used to be a social media manager for AMC. She isn’t anymore, but she worked for AMC for several years. And they asked her about the “leak.” She said that she felt badly for the company that leaked it early. She said when there’s a big announcement like this, there are dozens, maybe hundreds, of moving pieces behind the scenes. Basically, AMC has a whole network that they coordinate to release the news all at the same time. So, it didn’t surprise her that someone, every so often, messes it up and releases it early. It’s just a lot people and moving parts to keep track of. So like maybe, if they were supposed to post the announcement at 8am central time, maybe they posted it at 8 their time, which was too early. That sort of thing. And okay, I guess that makes sense. But there’s just one problem with that explanation. The EXACT same thing happened with this announcement as happened with Beth’s fate in Coda. One of the companies released it too early.

(I’m sure this is the post Nonny means that was deleted: because it was released too early.)

That’s why, the day the news of the show ending broke, people were talking about “rumors” of TWD ending before the official announcement was made. Between that, and all the references we’ve seen (‘bringing characters back from the dead,’ and ‘the six episode coda,’) I just don’t think I can believe in good faith that this was a coincidence.

A little more about AMC social media accounts.

This just confirms what we’ve suspected for years. This woman said she was one of many social media managers. But all that means is that she “managed” several of AMC’s social media accounts. As in, she posted on them and interacts with fans and comments.

She in no way, shape, or form had any say about what was posted or when. She specifically said that such things were WAY above her paygrade. She suspects that such decisions went all the way up to Gimple and Kang. Like there’s someone who follows them around, and when one of them says something needs to be posted, that person texts all the social media managers and they post it. Boom. The writers 100% control what goes out on social media. What it is, what graphics to use, how it’s worded. Everything. #TDforthewin!

She also said that if someone leaks the news early, everything is reconfigured and they quickly shore up to protect the narrative and make sure everything is correct and appropriate. Very interesting.

He also asked her if she thought IGN did it intentionally or on accident. She was obviously being careful not to throw too much shade, but you could tell she definitely thought it might have been done intentionally. Oh, and also? The podcast guy said he knew about the leak because he had to wait until a certain time (I want to say 8:30 am, but I don’t know which time zone) before he posted about it. AMC told him what time and he made sure not to sleep in so he wouldn’t miss it, but he logged on and people already knew because of the leak.

So once again, even this podcast, who claims not to be directly affiliated with AMC (even though they totally are) is getting posts, directions, etc. from AMC. And that’s important with what I’m about to tell you, because the people on this podcast have definitely mentioned Beth in suspicious contexts more than once. And this podcast was the farthest thing from an exception.

Talking About Beth Randomly

That leads me to my final and the biggest thing that stuck out to me about this podcast. Let me first say that I generally like the podcasters and their attitudes toward the show. For one thing, none of them are pro-Caryl. Most of them like Carol all right, but don’t want her and Daryl together romantically. Obviously, I like that.

Unfortunately, they were kinda being punks about Beth in this episode. They went on a little TD-bashing session. As I said the other day, they didn’t mention TD by name or anything, but it was more of a “did you know there are people out there who think Beth is alive?” kind of thing. And they were being really sarcastic about what they thought about that. But the entire discussion still felt SUPER suspicious to me. They were talking about the OTHER spinoff. Not the Daryl/Carol one, but the “Tales of the Walking Dead” one where they’ll tell the back story of deceased characters. One of them asked who the others would like to see back stories of. Out of nowhere, one of them yelled, “Beth!” Seriously. Out. Of. Freakin. Nowhere. And then they basically started making fun of TDers. They talked about how there really are people out there who think she’s still alive. Then one of them said “those people” think that Beth had a twin sister we never knew about and she’s the one who got shot and Beth is still secretly alive. I had to chuckle and shake my head at that. Maybe there’s someone, somewhere in the fandom who thinks that, but I’ve never even heard anyone argue that before. Have you? He then called people who believe that a great big pile of stupid. So yeah, obviously they were being punks. But the conversation about Beth went on and on. One of them said they hoped AMC did a Beth back story in that spin off series, just to mess with the heads of the people who think she’s still alive. And then someone else replied that she doesn’t have a back story to tell because we know it all already: farm, prison, Grady. (I’m sorry; who’s one big pile of stupid to NOT notice the missing 17 days in S5?) Even though they were basically laughing at us, it just felt really deliberate and contrived. And then, one of the women says, “I hope she shows up in The World Beyond.” Seriously? After that, they finally kind of went, “Anyway…” and moved on. But they didn’t even mention any other names in answer to the question about who else they wanted to see back stories for in that second spin off. They ONLY talked about Beth. I siriusly sat there with my jaw hanging open because again, it just came out of nowhere, and they mentioned her—extensively—in conjunction with BOTH spinoffs AND threw in TWB. Just saying.

You know how I said earlier that they claim  not to be affiliated with AMC, though they totally are? Well, technically these people are part of Skybound. (Upper left corner of the picture below.) So in that way, they aren’t directly AMC. But we all know Skybound has posted MANY suspicious things about Beth over the years. And as I established above, they’re definitely being fed what to post by AMC. 

So I feel like that applies here as well. It’s almost like AMC told them to mention Beth in some way, even if it was by way of making fun of people who think she’s alive. So they found a way to bring her up in conversation. And hey, maybe these podcasters really don’t know about Beth’s return. Maybe they think AMC wants them to make fun of or dismiss the idea of her return. But either way, they contrived a way to talk about her, and they would only have done that if AMC told them to.  Okay, I’ll shut up, now. That podcast just totally rocked my world. Thoughts?

[kirbypost-generator]

Hi. This is prewritten because I’m at a very busy point in my real life, so I’ll go into the motivating issue at hand for having done what I’m about to explain later on (there is VERY MUCH one), but I’d like to first off apologize for spreading misinformation when people generally go to me for the opposite of that, and, to let you all know that the entire post was almost entirely either fabricated truth or, for the most part, blatant misinformation.

I’ll explain the surrounding circumstances when I have time, but tl;dr we were trying to bait somebody who was blatantly plagiarizing us, in the funniest way possible. They didn’t take the bait so I’m dropping this rather than giving it more time to work, because for now, I’d just like to make sure people don’t go into the Wave 3 update misinformed by our hands.

Here’s the post: https://kirbypost-generator.tumblr.com/post/180574311025/more-exclusive-info-from-the-recent-nintendo-dream I’ll go through and clarify what in it was true, what was partially true, and what was outright false.

The entire formatting of the article isn’t correct to the real Nintendo Dream article we claimed to translate. It’s much longer and goes into depth about each character for a few questions each.

Shinya Kumazaki's credentials were correct and directly copied from our legitimate in-progress translation. The summary of the new gamemode, its premise, and the nature of "Mini Friend Hearts", their name included, were not.

While it can be assumed Star Allies was rushed, I don't recall any official statements about this. Having postrelease content certainly was never stated to be inspired by other Switch games.

Yes, Adeleine was to be voiced at one point, and they found a staff member to do so. The job of the staff member and the reason for cutting were not true - the real interview mentions timing as the reason for cutting. I included this because I’d already mentioned the [true] fact prior, and the specific fact became a point of interest. No, they didn't plan to give Gooey more backstory. Sorry.

The information about Rick, Kine, and Coo being brought into HD is a truncated version of a paragraph of our legitimate translation. This is the same case for the following paragraph about the Mage-Sisters.

There's probably nothing interesting about their hats. I made that one up entirely.

"Kumazaki" 's final advice is actually from me, to the reader. It’s meant to be taken literally, but it leaned on a certain something happening and is likely too vague here.

No, there's no plans to change the story mode dialogue.

The images are all real screenshots, either from the magazine or the game, and all edited to some degree. The dialogue is edited to joke lines - in the blue image, Zan is saying a translated line from the song Toxic by Britney Spears; in the yellow one, she's saying "On days like this, kids like you...", and we changed her name in that textbox to "San Partizanne". They all have things hidden in them so we could trace their circulation.

Since people are going to me and us more and more for legitimate information I have no wish to misinform people so tried to write this in a way in which I hoped most of the contents would be absurd enough for people to not be disappointed once I clarified (I have a reputation for making jokes so I assumed that would help), but still believable enough to serve its intended purpose. (Which… didn’t happen.)

Also, depending on the degree to which this information has spread, I apologize to Kumazaki for putting words in his mouth. For the most part he seems like a cool guy and I was hoping to not do anything that would maliciously affect him or his reputation.

I’ll follow up with a more indepth explanation of what was happening when I have time, but for now, thank you for bearing with me.

[ramheavenandhell]

Rickvestigating the Morty Disappearances – Chapter 2: More leads to investigate

AN: So, here we finally have the second chapter. This one is (as mentioned before) tied together with "Ricking the Routine" and also (very obviously to those who have read it) "Second Chances AKA The Rick One For Me". Hope you enjoy. Warnings: actually none for this chapter Summary: An undercover Morty Guard is infiltrating the Morty Academy in order to find the Mortys that have gone missing and unveil a secret Morty brothel ring. Will he actually find the culprit? Continuation to “Second Chances AKA The Rick One For Me”, “Ricks will always be Ricks” and “Ricking the Routine”.

Rickvestigating the Morty Disappearances – Chapter 2: More leads to investigate Even though his previous leads had all run into a wall, Morty F-396 wasn't about to give up. He was still convinced that someone inside the academy was involved with the sudden disappearances of Mortys, somehow helping out whoever these kidnappers were. As such, he was still on the lookout for suspicious people. One such suspicious person was certainly that one person in class that wasn't even a Morty: "Slow Rick" or "Tall Morty" as he was also called. No matter how the disguised Guard Morty looked at it, he found it weird that a Rick was enrolled at a school that was for Mortys only. There wasn't even an explanation to why this man was here, other than the obvious display of his senile attitude. Trying to avoid suspicion by directly approaching that Rick and asking him questions, F-396 decided to try and pry some information from his teacher. He had waited patiently until class was over and they were all dismissed. Only after every last Morty and the unusual Rick had left the classroom, did he dare to approach Teacher Rick. "What do you want, you little turd? If you're hoping for some private lessons I'm gonna tell you right away that I don't have time to play private tutor or something, so you'll have to ask one of your fellow turds." The teacher said as Morty approached him without even letting him say what he wanted first. "Th-that's not what I'm here for." F-396 immediately corrected his teacher, trying to choose his next words wisely to avoid raising some suspicions – after all, he still couldn't be entirely sure that he could rule Teacher Rick out of his list of suspects even if he couldn't find anything yet that linked him to the kidnappers. "I was just wondering about Tall Morty. I wanted to be friends with him and wanted to ask if you actually know anything about him, like why he's here?" "Huh?" the teacher was in the middle of raising his flask to his mouth as he stopped in surprise – or was it irritation? "Sorry, kid, but I can't tell you anything about him. I-I'm not a--urgh--utohrized to explain to you why he's here or where he came from." Not authorized? That was confusing and suspicious. Even though that sounded like it was a decision made by the Council of Ricks and not really like he was associated to some criminally active Ricks. Teacher Rick must have interpreted F-396's miffed expression as disappointment because he added. "I honestly don't even know that much myself, but if you wanna know so badly, why don't you go and ask him yourself?" Well, that was obviously the only option that Morty was left with now – even though he would have liked to avoid it. Oh, well. He would just have to try to be subtle about it. Acting like he really only wants to be friends with the odd one and asking innocently about his backstory. Of course, he knew that there was a big chance that he would lie to him. For all that he knew this Rick was only acting like he was dumb. However, if he did, Morty F-396 was sure to catch him on it and would at least have good reason to pay more attention to him and his actions around Morty Academy. So, F-396 sought out the chance to talk to the weirdo when it would seem most unsuspicious. He approached him the next day during lunch break. The Rick sat on a far too small for him chair and an equally too small table – all alone. It wasn't like the other Mortys were trying to bully him. No, they actually helped him whenever they could like when the next class started they would help him get to the classroom. However, beyond being helpful, Mortys didn't necessarily want to spend so much time with this weird Rick so the man was left to eat his school lunch alone. Morty F-396, equipped with his own tray of food, slowly approached the table, determined to play this of good. "Hey, c-can I sit with you?" he asked and smiled shyly. Tall Morty looked up at him in confusion. His lazy eye and his drooling was far worse than that of any other Rick that F-396 had seen so far. Adding to that was some of today's lunch that was decorating his mouth, chin, cheeks and even the tip of his nose. After the question seemed to have finally registered in the Rick's head, a broad smile broke out on his face. "S-shure. You can sit he-here." Morty didn't comment on the mispronunciation. After all, he had heard Tall Morty speaking in class before, however few sentences those were. If it really only was an act, this Rick really had it down well, F-396 thought. Morty took a seat next to Slow Rick (he felt stupid trying to think of the man in the too small Morty clothes as a real Morty). As he started digging into his own food, he began to strike some conversation with his lunch partner. "So, how do you like the academy? Classes are pretty tough, aren't they?" "Uh…" the Rick looked like he was spacing out and just made some nonsense mumbled sounds. Finally, he looked at Morty and answered. "I-I just wanna gre-gratutate." "Yeah, that's what we all want, isn't it?" he laughed a little to lighten the mood. "They-they said, I can go home wh-when I "grate-tu-tate"." Slow Rick continued. This seemed like a good entryway to steer the conversation to the topic that F-396 was interested about. Maybe it was still too direct and obvious, but if he paid good enough attention, he would at the very least notice that something was off. Ricks may be good liars, but if you were around them long enough, you were able to pick up the slightest signs to notice when they weren't telling the truth. "Um…why aren't you at home right now? Why are you here in the academy?" he asked boldly, but decided to add something to seem less curious. "M-my Rick died on Carimba 6. He was my second one…" It was the truth – at least that's what had happened to Morty D-14 and was the reason why he had been enrolled at Morty Academy. And right now he was Morty D-14. "Some-something bad happened to M-Mooort—to my Morty." The Rick replied slowly. "Wha-what happened to him?" Morty couldn't deny that he was intrigued to know. "They said I can't talk about the "bad thing"." "Who said that?" "The men that were up." He pointed with a finger towards the roof for emphasis. F-396 frowned a little as he tried to figure out what the other meant. Then he realized that he was probably talking about the Council of Ricks. It did make sense when his deduction about what Teacher Rick had said was really correct and the Council of Ricks were the ones that had this Rick enrolled in the academy. "They-they said that I can't have a new Morty because of the "bad thing", but I can get home again when I gratutaet." The older man continued in his slightly slurred speech. Well, "going home again" would actually mean that he would get partnered up with a Rick. That is if Slow Rick would even get so far as to graduate, which seemed very unlikely considering how long he was already at the academy – from what Morty had heard anyways. Suddenly Slow Rick began to sniffle and thick tears fell down his cheeks. "I-I really miss M-Morty. I jush wanna go ho-home." F-396 looked wide-eyed as the man began to full on wail. It drew the attention of several Mortys in the cafeteria on the duo. A little bit awkwardly, F-396 moved over to the older man and began to hug and pat him gently, trying to shush him. While Morty had no idea what that "bad thing" that had happened was, he had a vague idea and while it certainly didn't sound good, he had trouble believing that the other was somehow involved in the disappearances of all those Mortys. There was no way that he was such a good actor. Not even a Rick would go so far as to fake crying like this – over missing his Morty and homesickness, no less. It seemed too genuine to be just an act and he felt really bad now, knowing that he was the cause why Slow Rick got upset. He continued to console the other while he mentally scratched this Rick from his lists of suspects. It felt like he was back to square one again…

At the Morty Day Care, two Guard Ricks were currently exchanging shifts. After seeing that the guard who had the morning shift was out of his sight and Storage Rick was busy with his Mortys, the new Guard Rick – Rick T-42 – turned to look at the electric fence at which he stood in his guarding position. Or better said, he looked beyond the fence where the free roaming Mortys were playing or lazing around on the grass. His eyes landed on one specific Morty who wore a blue t-shirt instead of the standard yellow one and his brown curls were in a darker chocolatey color than was usual, too. The Blue Shirt Morty caught the guard's gaze who was staring at him and smiled innocently back. Rick T-42 knew that this little guy was almost constantly at Storage Rick's side. And when he wasn't there, he would naturally hang around other Mortys and play with them. The Guard Rick watched how the blue shirted Morty talked to another brunet before grabbing his wrist and leading him back behind the building, to a spot that wasn't monitored by the security cameras. T-42 grinned and turned back around to his usual guarding position, continuing to do his job. The shift would be boring, but he was looking forward to the evening. Because he was confident that when he left, he wouldn't be going alone. He was sure that Storage Rick would like to get some "weight" of his hands again…

Morty F-396 was disappoint that none of his investigations had led him somewhere yet. All of his suspects had been ruled out and he had not a single lead left. This only left him to keep an open ear and eye out on things inside the academy. So, as he tried to look out for anyone or anything suspicious, he took notice of a small circle of Mortys who were talking amongst themselves in hushed whispers. Listening inconspicuously in on them, he quickly noticed that the small flock of boys was gossiping about one of their fellow Mortys – Morty A-22β6, nicknamed Shy Morty. F-396 certainly had taken notice of the boy before. The shy little thing was scrawny – certainly smaller and thinner than Mortys normally were. One other thing that he had noticed about the boy was the fact that he wore a long-sleeved school uniform and even in his leisure time he would wear long-sleeved yellow shirts. Of course, those things were the ones that some people might easily overlook with A-22β6. The certainly more noticeable thing about him was his extremely shy behavior, which earned him his nickname. Though "shy" was probably also not the right word for it either. "Avoiding" fit the bill much better. Generally, the boy was shying away from all sorts of contact and in the presence of Ricks, the boy would look absolutely terrified. Now, since Shy Morty barely talked, his other prominent behavior was probably a bit less known. However, as soon as he would open his mouth, you would notice it instantly. The boy was stuttering! And not just stuttering in the same sense that Mortys – and even Ricks – usually did. No, his stutters had to be at least ten times worse than what was considered average for the citizens of the Citadel. In all truth, F-396 had only heard it once and had to hold back cringing at the time. It was already strenuous enough for the Guard Morty having to actually force himself to stutter so that he would blend in better with all the other Mortys even though he had been so proud of himself that he had managed to get those stutters and the anxiety attacks under control a long time ago. He just really hated that he had to get back into this unwanted old habit – or being reminded of it, thanks to his other-dimensional counterparts. As he continued to listen in on the circling Mortys' gossip – even though he really had no reason to – he overheard a few things that were new to him. "His Rick must have abused him pretty badly. I mean the way he's acting all terrified around Ricks makes it pretty obvious." One Morty with a pair of insect-like feelers on his head threw in the round. "I know, I know!" Another boy whispered a bit too loudly. "I've seen him in the shower once and he has so many scars! Even my old Rick who had cut me open once had at least bothered to heal me up properly so I wouldn't have any scars left from that. And also…" As the Witness Morty moved more inside the circle, the others followed his example, huddling closer together and their hushed tones became even quieter, but F-396 was still able to hear what was whispered. "…the worst thing is the tramp stamp on his back." "What do you mean?" another curious Morty in the round whispered loudly. "I mean, he has the words "Grandpa's Bitch" carved into his lower back. Like with a knife or something." "Holy shit!" The circle of Mortys agreed in unison that that was really fucked up. F-396 ground his teeth together. That wasn't just fucked up. That was downright psychotic! Thinking that he had heard enough, F-396 moved away from the huddled mess of gossiping Mortys. He decided to actually talk to Shy Morty, even though he knew that the boy couldn't have anything to do with the recent disappearances. It was out of sympathy though since F-396 sympathized and worried about all the Mortys – whether those who lived together with their family in the Smith household or the ones that were residing at the Citadel. It didn't take him long to find the boy at his locker. He kind of did stick out between the many standard-looking Mortys in the hallway. The shy brunet was hunched over a little, looking like he was trying to hide away and curling in on himself. That pathetic sight tugged on F-396's heart. "H-hey." He greeted the boy who slinked away with his books in arms and looked like he tried to attract as little attention as he could. Naturally A-22β6 was startled, not having expected someone to talk to him. "O-oh. H-hi." He stuttered awkwardly. F-396 tried to pay that stutter no mind. He knew that the boy wasn't doing it on purpose. Instead he walked alongside the even-aged brunet and tried to strike up a small conversation. "Um, so I've noticed that you kinda seem to be on your own a lot. Are you doing okay?" The shy boy looked a little surprised by the question. "I-I-I'm f-fine. R-rea-really. Thanks f-fo-for a-asking though." F-396 noticed that the other seemed to hurry up a little in his walk as if he was trying to avoid the conversation. It would have seemed rude perhaps, but he couldn't hold it against the other. Surely he was also not doing it to be purposely unfriendly towards him. "Okay. If there's ever anything—you know, if you ever have trouble or need help, you can come to me." He offered. "Th-thank you." The other boy replied with a small but genuine smile on his face. F-396 let the other Morty walk the way to his class in peace. As he looked after him, he thought about why he had taken on the job that he had in the first place. He didn't do it simply because he was offered this position and because it paid well and came with some small benefits. Morty F-396 was doing this – and especially this specific mission – so that Mortys like A-22β6 wouldn't fall into the hands of Ricks that would use them in horribly wrong ways. He hoped that they would get assigned to Ricks who would care for them if only a little and would at least treat them like the humans that they were and not just like some pets or objects. Filled with new determination, he tried to rack his brain to solve this case once more. He would find the culprits who were behind the disappearances of all of those Mortys, no matter what it takes. And he will make sure that they got what they deserved and that the Mortys will finally be safe!

Part 7 of Entricked Fates

Chapter 1

Chapter 3

Part 1 of Entricked Fates: Gotta Catch Me Some Morty

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Part 2 of Entricked Fates: Mortyfied and Rickfused

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Part 3 of Entricked Fates: Ricking the Routine

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Part 4 of Entricked Fates: Ricks will always be Ricks

oneshot

Part 5 of Entricked Fates: The Morty-Lover

oneshot

Part 6 of Entricked Fates: Second Chances AKA The Rick One For Me

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Part 8 of Entricked Fates: When the Morty’s away, the Rick will play

oneshot

Part 9 of Entricked Fates: It’s Not His Ricking Fault!

oneshot

Part 10 of Entricked Fates: I Ricking Hate My Life!

oneshot

Part 11 of Entricked Fates: The Lines Between Ricks and Mortys

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Part 12 of Entricked Fates: The Mortys and their Stories

Chapter 1

[preux-chevalier]

Form D87-A

[I saw this anon that @katrinacornwells got a week ago and it ...festered. Also available on AO3.]

D87-A: Explanation of Mission Failure Unrelated to Extended Operation, General. Colloquially known as the “baby FUBAR” form.

Daisy’s on the couch when Coulson finally makes it home, doing actual work and totally not playing a pirated version of the old Microsoft space pinball game. She tenses, expecting some kind of reaction after earlier, but all he does is smile at her when he sets down his briefcase, so either he’s playing the long game and plans revenge when she least expects it, or he’s gonna tell May and then she’ll really be in trouble.

Her stomach practically curdles when he heads straight for May after kicking off his shoes.

Then again, AC and May are the kind of disgustingly cute couple that automatically gravitate towards each other anyway, May’s home on medical leave with bruised ribs, and Coulson is the most earnest, devoted, sad-blue-puppy-eyes mother hen in the history of the world. So it’s probably fine.

May gets up from where she’d spent most of the afternoon doing paperwork or something else boring at the kitchen table with a wince, and Daisy can’t even see Coulson’s face anymore but she knows it’s got that “Don’t Tell Me To Stop Freaking Out, You’re Hurt” look all over it. She and Yoyo had gotten really bored once and decided to name all of Coulson’s many expressions, from “I’m Not Mad My Coffee Is Cold, Just Disappointed” to “If You Don’t Shut Up I Will Shove A Stapler Up Your Ass And Use It To Do Paperwork.” They’ve been trying to orchestrate another sighting of the elusive “Bee Gees Zen Coulson” but Fitz has been uncooperative. Although maybe if they can persuade Jemma it’s medically beneficial to ensure a relaxing environment-

Ew. Coulson and May are kissing.

It’s not like they’re hardcore making out against the kitchen table or anything - which Daisy had accidentally walked in on once, disgusting, they eat there - but she still feels more than a little like she’s watching her parents demonstrate the finer points of mouth-on-mouth action. She’s kind of proud of them, actually. It took approximately 900 years for them to finally admit how crazy they were about each other, and that was after she’d met them. But now they’re standing in their kitchen, in the house they own together, sharing a just-got-home kiss like they’ve been married for 30 years.

Her couch in the living room is just far away enough that Daisy can’t quite make out what Coulson says when they separate again. She can see May narrowing her eyes, though, which has her ducking behind the safety of her laptop again just in case. It’s probably useless. May’s death glares are powerful enough to burn through solid concrete, much less her poor computer.

Yet the screen doesn’t burst into flames. There isn’t even any menacing silence. In fact, there’s…… singing?

Daisy’s head shoots up.

Coulson’s pulling May into a dorky little dance around the kitchen, gawky and uncoordinated in the way only a white dad can truly achieve, laughing his way through the lyrics. Daisy stares in sick fascination as the director of S.H.I.E.L.D, still in the suit he wears only for really important meetings, almost backs into the side of the counter with one particularly ambitious slide. She’s hallucinating, right? This can’t actually be happening. And yet Coulson and May are making their way into the living room and the off-key singing is getting louder and clearer, so apparently it’s real.

The closer they get, the easier it is to see that despite how they’re bumbling around like a pair of newborn foals, Coulson’s hand is so careful on May’s side, deftly avoiding the bruising like it’s in plain sight instead of hidden under her shirt. It doesn’t even look like he’s actively concentrating on doing it. Daisy is going to choose to believe they’re just crazy in tune with each other rather than considering the other reason why Coulson might know the exact dimensions of May’s bruises. It’s a lot sweeter and less traumatizing that way.

May’s expression has been a pretty consistent mix of amusement and total confusion, but it quickly shifts to absolute rejection when Coulson tries to twirl her. “Phil.”

“What?”

She gives him The Look. Daisy thinks vaguely that it’s a good thing she and Yoyo never tried to name her expressions, because a good 40% of them can be described perfectly as “The Look” depending on intonation without any further explanation being necessary. There are rumors that she once convinced an enemy agent to surrender his weapon just by subjecting him to this version of The Look, although after hearing Coulson’s version of the story Daisy’s pretty sure it had more to do with the fact that May had been covered in blood and holding a giant assault rifle. The point is, grown men have been driven to helpless weeping by The Look.

Coulson, however, not only completely fails to quiver in fear but actually beams at her. “Come on, it’s a great song!” he wheedles. “Even Daisy likes it.”

At that, May’s focus immediately snaps to her. The shiver that runs down her spine is completely involuntary. “Uh. What?”

Coulson finally gives up on trying to twirl May and settles for sliding his arm around her waist. “You sent me the Youtube video in an email today, remember? Thanks, it was a great way to jazz up the afternoon.”

Wait. Is he serious?

“You sent him a Rick Astley song?” May’s voice is even. Like, too even. The kind of May-being-calm that usually has Daisy two seconds from scrambling for cover.

Not that Coulson notices, of course. “Actually, it might have been an accident? I’m pretty sure it was supposed to be a link to something else.” He shrugs. “At least the email wasn’t about anything too important. No harm, no foul. Just get me the right link when you can, okay?”

Daisy nods faintly.

Coulson shoots her double finger guns, which normally she would mock the hell out of him for, then turns back to May. “I’m going to change into sweats and then cook dinner. What do you think, fajitas tonight?” Presumably May says something back, but Daisy can’t really hear anything over the loud buzzing in her ears. There’s one more quick kiss before Coulson disappears into the hallway, tugging his tie loose and whistling the chorus of Never Gonna Give You Up.

She stares after him in total disbelief.

“You’re grounded,” May says flatly.

[wyblogging]

Alright, let’s talk about the future.

Surely some of you must have noticed that I’m nearing the end of this wild ride called Gravity Falls. So where am I going from here? I want to hear your voices.

Ultimately I’m going to make the choice I feel is best, both from the perspective of my enthusiasm and fan demand. Of likely candidate shows, I have already seen Madoka Magica, Avatar, most of Star Vs. the Forces of Evil, season 1 of Legend of Korra, Over the Garden Wall, Game of Thrones up to the point where the show passes the novels, FMA Brotherhood, and Firefly. I plan on liveblogging new episodes of Steven Universe as they are released, as well.

I’m going to make a list of shows I’m interested in blogging, as well as what I know about them. I want to hear from you in asks. Like something? Give me a detailed explanation as to why. Dislike something? Same applies. I plan on doing two shows on an alternating basis, in order to broaden my appeal somewhat. The current list of frontrunners:

Cowboy Bebop

I know very little about this show except that it’s vaguely reminiscent of Firefly in setting and it’s considered one of the greatest animes ever made.

Breaking Bad

I have seen the first episode of this show, plus random snippets of a few other episodes, and I understand the basic premise of it. I know that Gus dies in the middle and Walt dies at the end. Other than that, I know basically nothing except that it’s possibly the greatest American drama of the modern age. I do have some concerns about the episode length, although I expect I’ll probably be forced to stop less frequently to react, compared to a shorter show like Gravity Falls. I will definitely test this out before making a decision, though.

Camp Camp

I have seen the first episode of this show and promptly fell in love with it. I know effectively nothing outside of that. But I would be extremely enthusiastic to go down this road.

Star Wars: The Clone Wars  and Star Wars: Rebels

I know that these shows are high-quality, although TCW is apparently a bit up-and-down. Regardless, I’ve been meaning to get around to them at some point and I figure now might be a decent time. I know that Ahsoka is Anakin’s apprentice in TCW, and I know basically nothing at all about Rebels except that Thrawn is there at some point.

OK K.O. Let’s Be Heroes!

I know vaguely of the main characters and that the villain is using robots or something. I know that Ian JQ was on the Steven Universe team, and that this show has a lot of promise. 

Invader Zim

All I know about this one is that it’s an old-school CN cartoon that’s looked upon fondly today. Also Zim, I know who Zim is. I don’t know if this show has the sort of consistent plot and/or humor that would make it a worthwhile liveblog.

Rick and Morty

What I know: characters, basic premise, there’s parallel universe shit. It’s very popular on Tumblr right now. Also lots of people ship Rick with Stan Pines. I’ve heard a lot of hype for this one.

Voltron: Legendary Defender

If I were to put this up to an online poll (I’m not), I’m confident that the winner would be one of these last two. Voltron is everywhere on Tumblr, and I’m aware of the shipping wars basically above all else. Also Pidge is cute. 

Miraculous Ladybug, Steins;Gate, One Punch Man, My Hero Academia, Xiaolin Showdown, Mob Psycho 100

All of these are shows that I know effectively nothing about that have been recommended to me. It would take a lot of acclaim to get one of them to jump to the top of my list, but it’s definitely possible. 

Ultimately, you decide. Like something? Tell me why. Don’t like something? Tell me why. I’ll be picking a new slate once I get done with these last five episodes of Gravity Falls, which I’m hoping will take around two weeks. I want to provide the content that people are excited to read, so let me know what that content is.

[eddycurrents]

For the week of 25 September 2017

No standout favourite for the week, but I’ll be doing a special round-up on Marvel Legacy #1 before next Wednesday if you’re missing a longer take. Still, there were some very good comics out this week.

Quick Bits:

Diablo House #2 again features some of the best art in comics today from Santipérez. He has a style highly influenced by Bernie Wrightson and it’s just really great to see in this old school Tales from the Crypt style horror comic.

| Published by IDW

DuckTales #1 is a fun all-ages book that introduces comics to the new television show’s animated style. Joe Caramagna pens two stories in this first issue that are highly entertaining, capturing the voices of the Ducks and the mix of adventure and humour of DuckTales very well.

| Published by IDW

Faith & The Future Force #3 continues to throw waves of Valiant’s heroes pulled from time against a seemingly impossible to stop evil robot. As we move towards the conclusion, the tactics that the Timewalker has been using need to change, lest they continue to fail and reality further come undone, and we get the first hint of what’s next.

| Published by Valiant

Generations: The Americas #1 is a different beast compared to the other Generations one-shots. Nick Spencer gives a bit more context as to what’s going on in regards to the heroes disappearing, but still no real explanation. It just seems like a kind of jumbled mess that happens in between the panels of Secret Empire and vaguely hints towards thematic changes in some of the titles throughout the Marvel Legacy promotion.

That said, the story itself from Spencer and Paul Renaud is pretty good.

Generations: The Spiders #1 features some really great artwork from Ramon Pérez, and coloured by Msassyk. It expertly captures the feel and tone of much of the early Ditko Spider-Man work, particularly in relation to Amazing Spider-Man #33. I only wish that the team had have been able to include an action sequence or two, because I suspect that would have been incredible.

| Published by Marvel

The Hard Place #2 is good. Not quite as good as the first issue, but there’s still a lot to like about what Doug Wagner and Nic Rummel are doing here. There’s a nice added wrinkle in who the bank robbers choose as a hostage that ups the ante.

| Published by Image

Hi-Fi Fight Club #2 goes deeper into the mystery of the disappearance of Rosie Riot from Stegosour, the nature of the fight club of the Vinyl Mayhem staff, and the budding relationship between Chris and Maggie. This is a highly entertaining story from Carly Usdin, with some great artwork from Nina Vakueva.

| Published by BOOM! Entertainment / Boom! Box

The Mighty Thor #23 concludes the battle between Thor and War Thor in a satisfyingly epic fashion. The artwork from Valerio Schiti also ratchets up another notch, providing a beautiful display of the conflict and its impact across the Ten Realms, it really is some amazing work. The pieces that Jason Aaron has been putting into play since his first issue of Thor: God of Thunder are falling into place.

| Published by Marvel

Nick Fury #6 concludes what was probably one of Marvel’s most innovative, most visually interesting series in recent years, that unfortunately very few people were reading and much less were talking about. James Robinson, ACO, Hugo Petrus, and Rachelle Rosenberg gave us a series in Nick Fury that was full of crazy ideas, spy thrills, action, humour, and jaw-dropping art. This really should have been a smash hit.

| Published by Marvel

Redneck #6 concludes the first arc in a way you probably won’t expect, but then much about this series is a play on challenging conventions. Donny Cates and Lisandro Estherren have created something here that transcends your traditional vampire stories, delving into something more personal, more rooted in family connections, and a willingness to change and I’m excited to see where that change takes the story.

| Published by Image / Skybound

Revolutionaries #8 concludes the series, closing out the story begun in the first issue, giving an explanation for what happened to Joe Colton before Revolution to explain how he could be both alive now and murdered as a Dire Wraith replacement in that crossover, and acts as a lead-in to First Strike. It’s good work from John Barber, with some great artwork from Fico Ossio and Ron Joseph. It just would have been nice to have been released before the First Strike crossover was almost over.

| Published by IDW

Rockstars #7 goes deeper down the rabbit hole. The artwork from Megan Hutchison seems to get better and better with every issue and it started out great.

| Published by Image

ROM vs. Transformers: Shining Armor #3 is another great issue in this limited series. John Barber and Christos Gage do a wonderful job conveying the cultural differences between the Autobots and Space Knights, dovetailing nicely with the character work that’s currently and previously been developed in the respective ROM and Transformers titles. And, of course, Alex Milne is a master at work here.

| Published by IDW

Rough Riders: Riders on the Storm #6 concludes this second mini-series and sets up for something possibly different for the forthcoming third volume. Adam Glass’ take on a kind of All-American League of Extraordinary Gentlemen from history rather than fiction has always been a good story, but I feel like it’s also delivering some great work consistently from Pat Olliffe. He’s always been an good interesting artist, but I feel like he’s upped his game considerably for this series.

| Published by AfterShock

Spawn #278 continues what it is quite possibly the best story that the series has ever seen. It started out as a fairly straight-forward horror yarn in Japan from the new creative team of Darragh Savage and Jason Shawn Alexander, but this issue opens it up a bit to something weirder. There were hints in the first two parts, but this gives us more layers. Also, the artwork from Alexander is gorgeous. There are some pages where he seems to be channelling Bill Sienkiewicz in page composition and it’s just visually stunning. Great work all around.

| Published by Image

Thanos #11 is the penultimate issue of Jeff Lemire’s run and it’s more or less one giant fight scene between Thanos and Thane. It allows Germán Peralta to really cut loose with the art and, aided by the colours of Rachelle Rosenberg, the book looks great.

| Published by Marvel

War Mother #2 continues to be a great read. The mystery deepens as to what’s taken over The Montana, while Ana gets a renewed urgency to escape when she realizes that her people are marching their way to possible death. Fred Van Lente also introduces another wrinkle in the machinations of Ana’s children that looks interesting.

| Published by Valiant

X-Men Blue #12 concludes the “Toil and Trouble” arc and it’s not bad. Cullen Bunn tells much of this issue through the eyes of Bloodstorm (or a Bloodstorm, because it’s not quite clear that she’s the same one from Mutant X), and it works effectively as a narrative of the tragic monster. This theme is also brought forward in the sub-plot of Ms. Sinister’s machinations with the Ultimate Universe refugees fairly effectively.

| Published by Marvel

X-O Manowar #7 kicks off the “Emperor” story-arc and it’s basically a barn burner. Matt Kindt’s story is suitably epic. All hell has broken out on Gorin and Aric is leading an army against the Emperor, who has pretty much turned against his own people and stood revealed as complicit in many of their deaths at the hands of the Monoliths. Clayton Crain takes over art duties for this arc and it is absolutely beautiful.

| Published by Valiant

Other Highlights: Archie #24, The Beautiful Death #1, Black Magick #8, Black Monday Murders #7, Black Panther #18, Crosswind #4, Deadpool Kills the Marvel Universe Again #5, First Strike #4, Godshaper #6, I Am Groot #5, The Infinite Loop: Nothing But the Truth #1, Lazarus X+66 #3, Marvel Legacy #1, Micronauts: First Strike #1, The Normals #5, Paklis #5, Pathfinder: Runescars #5, The Punisher #16, Rat Queens Special: Orc Dave, Red Sonja #9, Rick and Morty #30, ROM #13, Saga #47, Southern Bastards #18, Saucer State #4, Spider-Gwen #24, Star Wars: Jedi of the Republic - Mace Windu #2, Turok #2, TMNT #74, Venomverse #4, Victor LaValle’s Destroyer #5

Recommended Collections: Animal Noir, Buzzkill, Colder Omnibus, Hadrian’s Wall, Indestructible Hulk Complete Collection, Old Man Logan - Volume 5: Past Lives, Rock Candy Mountain - Volume 1, Royal City - Volume 1: Next of Kin, Shutter - Volume 5: So Far Beyond

d. emerson eddy may have been born to run, but he is more content with a leisurely stroll nowadays.

[haytownsend]

Run- English Narrative

Leaves fluttered past as my freshly chopped hair whipped behind me.I never really thought of how being a track and field runner would help me in my future until now I said a silent thank you to my track coach for pushing me so often. With my little brother on my heals and eldest sister ahead of me, I tried to go to the special mind place like the track coach taught me. It was a bit difficult between the screaming of my younger brother, and the sound of popping bullets. My heart slammed against my chest, wondering if I had the will to jump in and save my brother, or if I was too selfish. Why these people were after us in the first place, I wish I knew. Flashback to two hours prior, sitting on edge at dinner with my family. My second oldest sister was in her trials, and no one dared to speak about it. If she came out alive, we’d all be shocked. She wasn't the most active person, nor was our family too wealthy. Though, every once in a while there was small talk on how the day went, or praising my father for how our dinner is. We all knew it was dull and tasteless, but he tried. There were seven of us. Five kids and my parents. I was directly in the middle, with two older sisters, Thalia and Tate, and two younger brothers, Liam and Luke. Between seven mouths to feed, being a single income family, and having the economy plummet by the day, it was difficult to get anything. The apples that once cost a dollar a piece were now twenty each. With a loud slam from the door, we all jumped from our seats. We had been sat in a small circle on the floor, our once full plates spilling. The small house had very few places to be, considering it was a one room home. My mother looked to us in panic. “You guys, go.” She told us. Liam clutched onto her leg in protest, and she tried to shoo him off. Thalia, Luke and I bolted out the back door, instantly hearing screams and guns going off. Then, silence. We took off through the back alleys, bolting into the woods and trying to escape. Our family was shot. My mother, my father, even Liam. He was only four. We rolled into a small dip in the ground, ducking into a hole under the ground as the men who had been following us ran past. I held Luke back against me, the nine year old quivering and crying silently as we watched the military men march past. “What just happened?” I whispered to Thalia. “Why? What? Oh god.” I tucked my head into Luke’s hair, holding it together. “I don't know, but we have to find Tate.” I shook my head, knowing we couldn't leave this hole. Not with all those guys out there, heavily armed and ready. I remember reading in one of my fathers old books a quote from the buddha, “The trouble is, you think you have time.” I was never a very religious person, though I loved learning about the different ideals and quotes from those people worship. The buddha never understood me more. My parents wouldn't have ever thought that our own military would break into their home, kill both them and their four year old son. We all thought we had more time, when in fact life can be ripped away in an instant. A hand rested on my shoulder, and I felt my reflexes kick in and threaten to scream in fear when I recognized the person as Thalia. It was just the three of us, in complete silence. “Let’s sneak out now.” She whispered. I nodded, her climbing up first. She approved that it was all clear and pulled Luke and I up aswell. We walked through the woods, knowing we couldn't return to our sector. It was only a matter of time before sector nine would all be in a blood craving frenzy. Though, there wasn't much elsewhere to go. The ruins of sector ten would be nearby. Maybe a good ten miles, but it was there. It would have some kind of discreet shelter, and would be very low key. It was our best chance at survival. Thalia wrapped an arm around Luke, promising that we would be okay as we strode through the woods. It took nearly ten hours to get to the destination, between our slow walking, exhaustion, and Luke’s consistent breakdowns. As we came across sector ten, I felt my heart shatter. The once beautiful city was now down to rubble and a graveyard. Half the buildings still stood, while the other half were deteriorated to dust and rocks. There were maybe three or four people to walk by every once in awhile, stragglers with their homes destroyed. Destroyed city (in real life: Aleppo; in the Narrative: sector ten) In one day, my eyes were opened to our world. It took too long to pick up what was happening, but now I saw it all. Sector ten got bombed because they revolted. Sector nine was in the slums because we didn't deserve what sector one through five had. The government picked and chose who was meaningful and who wasn't just by who and where they were born to. In school, we were taught of the past. Of the presidential elections, and the wars, and the political tension. It seemed almost strange to me that there was once a world where countries were together in politics, or that there was a time people were harassed by who they love or how they look. Now, the planet is in “every man for himself” mode, where no countries cooperated. The hate was only between sectors, not races or love. There was a much more real issue now than the color of someone's skin. For example, murdering an entire family, or bombing the entirety of a sector to dust. An abandoned skyscraper with large gaps in half of the building was the closest to liveable. Sitting on the floor, Thalia excused herself to go and find supplies for us. She told me she would be gone for an hour. It was difficult to let her go, I didn't want to lose anyone else. “Tess,” she called me over to the corner before she left, wanting to speak without Luke overhearing. I stood and approached her. “I know this is a bad situation. I know it will take adjusting. But we really have to try to take this time better than it really is. Difficult roads often lead to beautiful destinations.” “Is this our oasis?” I asked in response. “I’m not blind, Thalia. We’re probably going to go hungry, it’s getting cold, two of my siblings are dead, and we are running from the government. Stop the cliches. I’ll be the one to break the truth if I have to.” If I wasn't annoyed, I would've felt bad for snapping at her. She was struggling to grasp things, but she thought we were in a fairytale. I had to yank her back to the real world before she got too big of a head of false hopes. Maybe this was the beginning of the end. We can only fight for a long while running from the military, and we only have so much time before we are out of crucial supplies. I wish I knew who to blame, but for now we were on the run. My literary style was pulling famous quotes from different religions, alongside using flashback to give definition to the plot. My model author was Rick Riordan, author of Percy Jackson™ series, along with it’s spinoff series. Throughout the Percy Jackson books, he uses flashback in prior events in the story without going too far back to give detail (yet sarcasm) to his writing without having it belong and dreary explanations. I used this technique when Tess flashes back to when she was at her home with her family. I also kept details vague to keep a reader on their toes and wanting to learn more on what the plot was about.

[twdmusicboxmystery]

Orange Color/Banners in D.C.

Okay, this Ask has been in my inbox a LONG time. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to get to it. I’m going to go relatively simply on the explanation here. Trust me, some of my fellow theorists could give you a LOT more detail on these colors (*coughs @wdway*) but I just want to give you an idea of why the answer is yes, we definitely think these colors were picked purposely and mean something.

First let me say, Nonny, that your observations her are stellar. I love especially what you said about Anne/Jadis and the fine arts banner. Because a few episodes later, we saw her doing a great deal of art in painting pictures for people. Just another way to show that these things are put in purposely and always fulfilled.

As you say, Michonne looks at political posters. Later we saw her drafting a charter, and then of course leading when Rick left. So it works all the way around.

About Daryl and the sun/fire thing? I also noticed that next to it are some things about native American culture. That really caught my attention because the only other place we’ve heard native American culture specifically mentioned on the show was with Creepy Wolf Dude and Morgan in 5x16. That makes me think the wolves might show up again this season somehow. I’ll get into some brainstorming about how that may happen below.

*Disclaimer: this is one of those posts where I brainstorm possible outcomes and predictions. Keep in mind that I may simply end up being wrong about them, so take everything with a grain of salt.*

I won’t go too much into blue and green colors/banners. We’ve seen those colors around Beth a lot and I think we’ve kinda beaten them to death. Green generally symbolizes life, progress, and even resurrection. We believe blue generally represents imprisonment, though by itself it can mean other things as well. For more color-centered theories, click HERE.

Let’s focus on the orange/bronze/copper banner. The short of it is that we totally think the orange (I’ll just call it orange for short, though depending on lighting and filters in any given scene it can look a bit different) is related to Beth. I’ll show you how/why we think so through many different scenes we can associate this specific color with. 

Let me say that most of these examples were furnished @wdway, who did most of the detective work. She theorized that maybe the color represented something the person associated with the color had lost. I think that’s a very viable theory.

For me, though, I think the orange represents leadership. Perhaps it even shows who will be leading when Beth returns. Let me illustrate.

Let’s start with the banner. It says “happy accidents” and has an eye on it. That eye immediately reminded us of one specific character  and even Happy Accidents kinda sounds like a way of explaining how/why Beth survived.

So why, aside from the banner, do we associate this color with her?

The copper color can be seen on Beth’s knife here in this shot and obviously knife = Beth.

Then check out the pants on this walker that TD instantly knew represented Beth (which was confirmed in the S5 DVD commentary, btw). The pants are kind of a copper-ish color.

Both these things are obvious symbols of Beth, and it works with my leadership theory, because we’ve always known, because of the sheriff hat/”new sheriff in town” line, that Beth would return as a leader.

Another major orange/bronze/copper symbol we’ve seen all the way since S3 is the orange backpack. Michonne, Rick and Carl first picked it up back in 3x12, Clear, which was where they also found Morgan. I don’t think the Morgan angle is a coincidence, but I’ll come back to that.

We’ve seen this pack back through a lot of different story lines and with different characters. 

Another big story line that included this color and the back pack was Denise’s. We see her with the bag in this shot and the main reason I think they included it is because she’s such a huge Beth proxy. 

Also remember that we had the orange soda around Denise. But the interesting things is that, while we did see her get a can out of the small blue cooler right before she died, we never actually saw her drink it. It was talked about around her a lot, and associated with her, but we didn’t actually see her with it very much. The only people we actually saw drink it was Rick and Daryl.

So I’m thinking the main reason it was associated with Denise is no because Denise would be a leader (because she really wasn’t) but rather because she was such a heavy Beth proxy, and Beth will be the leader. See what I mean?

Michonne’s shirt here. 

You may wonder why we see the color here and on Michonne. Neither she nor the situation seem to have any ties to Beth, but I think they do. Remember that she did have some important scenes with Beth and Judith in 4a.

I think it’s important that they just ran into the Saviors here, which will lead to Negan. There was a lot of Beth symbolism present when TF first met up with the Saviors. It was in 6x09, 6x12, 6x13. You name it. And I think that’s because the Saviors = Negan and Beth’s arc is tied up with Negan.

So there’s that. But I also can’t help but notice that Michonne is wearing this orange color here, but no one else is. Glenn isn’t. Heath isn’t. Tara isn’t. Not even Rick is. So I’m thinking this was to show that Michonne would be leading Alexandria when Beth shows up. (See how that works out so nicely?)

In S6, we also saw the copper color on the horse Morgan rides. Two reasons this is important. 1) This is the WHITE horse (horse theory) that Morgan finds next to the sign that says “You’re still alive.” So we’ve always associated this horse with Beth. Then there’s the Morgan angle. Even though Morgan seems to have his own deal on FTWD, his symbolism is still very entangled with Beth.

So on the Morgan angle, I still think he’s tied up in Beth’s return somehow. There are just too many open ended things that point to it. No idea how it will all work out, but there’s the stuff on Fear, this orange stuff, the horse stuff, the fact that he was spotted at the cabin Emily filmed at in S5. All this stuff has to come together at some point, and Morgan’s all tied up in it somehow.

In 6x16, we also see the orange/copper color on the library. 

The whole library/librarian thing was always very weird to me. It was just so random and they didn’t do much with it. Just felt very unnecessary to me. And what does that usually mean in this show? *symbolism*

So we have no idea at this point what’s up with the librarian group or how things will play out, but I do think it foreshadowed something. I’m not even sure exactly what, but I’m thinking that the librarian group was kind of a link or bridge between two groups. In 6x16, TF was about to come face to face with Negan and the Saviors. Meanwhile, the Saviors were busy teaching another group a lesson. So maybe that foreshadows something to come. Like maybe TF will be dealing with the Whisperers, but there will be another, adjacent group also having dealings with the Whisperers (the Wolves maybe?) and Beth will arrive with them.

Even the Xs here were orange and X = Beth. (X Theory)

Again, just spit-balling here because we have no idea how things will play out. But with all the orange around this group, to me it kind of suggests a group Beth may arrive with. I think it’s one of those things that will make WAY more sense when it actually happens.

We also saw this orange/copper color on Daryl’s shirt at the Sanctuary. 

Again, I think this could be a leadership thing, showing that eventually he’ll lead, and probably during a time when the Saviors are still involved in the story line. And low and behold, at the beginning of S9, he actually led the Sanctuary.

And for anyone who watches Fear, we saw this color a bit in this past season, S4, in which we also saw a CRAP TON of Beth symbolism and proxyness, especially with John and June.

So what does it all mean? I think the orange around Michonne points to her being the leader when Beth arrives. I think the others heavily associated around it (Rick and Daryl drinking the soda, the orange on Daryl’s shirt at Sanctuary) showed that they will be leaders. Rick already was, of course, Michonne is also obvious now in S9. I know Daryl only led Sanctuary briefly at the beginning of S9, but I’ll give you a very vague spoiler to say that spoilers report that Daryl will lead again somewhat in 9b. If the orange points to who, specifically, will be in leadership positions when Beth arrives, that means everything is in place for her arrival in 9b. *fingers crossed*

As an aside, I even thought about Carol when putting this together. Why haven’t we seen orange prominently around her? Well, we SORT OF did, because she was at the library with Morgan. So that might point to her leading at the Kingdom when Beth arrives. But at the same time, she’s also not the SOLE leader of the Kingdom. Between the two of them, he’s still more the leader than she is. Perhaps at some point in the show, he’ll die and she’ll take over as sole leader, but even if that’s the case, I don’t think it will happen until after Beth’s return. So I think it works either way.

So yeah. I think that’s what I have on the orange banner. And if we’re right about it being tied to Beth, well, we saw this banner in the first episode of the season, which points to what will happen the rest of the season. That does suggest that we’ll see her in S9. Here’s hoping I’m right about that! ;D Thoughts?