#and i am grateful for the water and the sun and the plenty

[hotshotsxyz]

wide awake from the breeze

(buddie) (2.2k) i swore i was going to write something for @summerofbuddie so here i am with something on the last possible day lol. very in character of me. title from blue sky & the painter which i will continue to push as The eddie diaz song for season 8

The air is crisp and cold, and finally, finally, Eddie can breathe.

The San Gabriels are beautiful this time of year, but it’s hard to appreciate the changing leaves when he’s watching Buck. Their color could never compete with his light.

Buck’s fingers tap against the steering wheel as he hums along to a song Eddie’s certain has repeated at least three times in the past two hours. He’s beautiful like this. He’s always beautiful, actually, but Eddie thinks this might be his favorite version of Buck. Happiness suits him.

They’ve been tumbling towards something since Buck broke up with Tommy, since Eddie finally let loose the words that have been stuck in his throat for years. For once in his life, Eddie isn’t overly worried about time. For once in his life, he’s got plenty of it.

They reach a scenic overlook, and Buck pulls over. He takes his sunglasses off and drops them on the dashboard, then looks over at Eddie and grins.

“See,” Buck says brightly, “I told you it’d be worth the drive.”

Eddie twists in his seat so he can face Buck a little more directly. His curls are wild from the wind, and his eyes glow in the late afternoon sun. “I didn’t doubt you for a second,” Eddie murmurs.

Buck’s smile grows impossibly wider. The foliage doesn’t stand a chance. “You want to get out for a little? Stretch our legs?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees easily.

There’s a trailhead just a few hundred feet away, and Buck bounds toward it eagerly.

“Half a mile out and back?” he calls over his shoulder after studying the map for a second, as if there’s anywhere Eddie wouldn’t follow him.

“Let’s do it,” Eddie replies as he sidles up next to Buck.

Buck smiles at him again, and it’s a little like watching the first light of dawn stretch across the horizon.

They mostly walk in silence, but every few minutes Buck pauses to point out a particular tree or bird. It’s kind of incredible, the way he latches onto information and then gifts it to Eddie in a single excited breath. Eddie’s got his own personal guidebook to the world, and he makes everything feel new and special.

The trail ends at the bank of a small, placid lake surrounded by rocky outcroppings. Buck sits on one and pulls Eddie down next to him.

The sky above them is cloudless and clear, a brilliant blue that’s reflected in the water. A few leaves drift slowly across the surface, leaving behind tiny wake trails. It’s peaceful in a way Eddie’s rarely gotten to experience in his life. He isn’t sure he’d even be capable of appreciating that if it weren’t for Buck.

“I think I want to do this forever,” Eddie says as they stare out across the lake.

Buck knocks his knee against Eddie’s. “What?” he asks, “Watch the leaves turn?”

Eddie looks at him and finds a soft smile that tells him Buck knows exactly what he means. “Yeah,” he says, knocking his knee back, “something like that.”

For a long moment, Buck holds his gaze. “Yeah,” he says finally, “me too.”

Eddie leans to the side, allowing his weight to settle against Buck’s shoulder. He tries not to worry anymore about whether or not he deserves to have someone like Buck in his life. He has him. Buck picks him, over and over again, and even though Eddie’s not sure he’ll ever quite manage to wrap his head around it, he’s long since decided the only way he needs to feel about that is grateful. And god is he grateful.

Buck closes his eyes and tips his face toward the sun. His cheeks are tinged with pink, and it’s hard to tell if it’s the cold, the beginnings of a sunburn, or something else entirely that’s caused it. Eddie finds that he wants to know, wants to press his fingers to Buck’s skin and see if the redness fades or grows.  

It’s an impulse he could give in to; Buck would let him. There’s something about this moment he wants to freeze though, and if he moves it’ll change. Instead, he watches. He commits every detail to memory. When he’s old and gray and everything else is fading, this will be what he remembers.

A gust of wind blows down through the valley, and Buck shivers with it, nose scrunching. He opens his eyes and looks at Eddie. “I’m cold,” he admits with a sheepish smile.

“You’re always cold,” Eddie says, voice dripping with fondness.

Buck tilts his head in acknowledgement. He flexes his fingers a few times, probably stiff in the autumn air.

“C’mere,” Eddie says a little nonsensically. Buck will understand.

Buck holds his hands out and Eddie takes them. He vigorously rubs at them until they’re satisfyingly friction warm. He keeps them when he’s done, holding them together between his palms to protect them from the wind. Buck ducks his head and grins.

“You’re like a space heater,” he says, shuffling impossibly closer.

“And you’re like an icepack,” Eddie replies.

Buck blows out a soft, amused breath. “Makes me handy to keep around in the summer,” he quips.

“I always want you around.”

Another version of Eddie might’ve hesitated, might’ve buried that instinctive reply as far down as possible, shoved it next to all the things he refused to examine. Too bad for that Eddie; he wouldn’t get to see the pink on Buck’s cheeks darken and spread.

“I always want you around, too,” Buck says, quiet, like he might scare away the moment if he speaks too loudly.

Eddie’s been waiting. For what, he’s not entirely sure. For him and Buck to be alone, though that’s hardly a rare occurrence. For all the doubtful voices in his head to go silent, but Buck’s been quieting those for years. For him to feel settled in his skin. For the world to stop turning around them long enough to do it right. All at once, Eddie feels like there’s nothing else to wait for.

“I love you,” he says, and the words taste good. They’re the icy fresh snow melt that streams down mountains in the spring, the bright tang of citrus in the summer, the spicy warmth of mulled cider in the winter, and soon, he thinks, he’ll know for certain that they taste like Buck in the fall.

A small noise spills from Buck’s mouth and he sways forward, less like he’s leaning in and more like he can’t help but be caught in Eddie’s gravity.

“Eddie,” he whispers. His eyes shine.

“Buck,” he replies.

For most of Eddie’s life, he’s been afraid. He’s pushed past it, locked it down, pretended that the twist of anxiety in his gut was never more than passing butterflies. Here, though, now, he doesn’t even feel brave. He’s too sure, Buck makes him feel too safe; there’s no fear for him to fight against.

Buck blinks a few times and swallows visibly. Eddie rubs his thumbs in soothing circles against Buck’s wrists.

“You…” Buck starts, rough and awed.

“Take your time,” Eddie says, unable to hide his amusement.

Buck huffs and kicks at Eddie’s ankle. “Forgive me for taking a second to process literally the best thing I’ve ever heard,” he retorts without any bite.

“Oh no, I mean it,” Eddie says with a wide grin. “I’ll sit here all day. I’m not cold.”

A startled laugh jumps from Buck’s throat. “Be quiet, let me finish processing,” he says.

“Process away,” Eddie murmurs.

A few seconds pass and he watches the gears turn in Buck’s mind. Eddie knows the way they like to twist and catch, but he’s not worried. They’ll have a lifetime to discard all the worst-case scenarios.

 “Okay,” Buck says finally. “I’ve processed.” He pulls his hands from Eddie’s grip and raises them to his jaw. He leans in and Eddie meets him halfway.

Eddie was right, but also wrong. Buck tastes like love, yes, but he also tastes like home and joy and warmth and a little like the muscadines they’d stopped to buy from a roadside stand earlier in the day. Buck smiles against his lips and it feels like the rest of his life.

“For the record,” Buck says, pulling back just far enough to look Eddie in the eye, “I love you too.”

Eddie can’t help the bright peal of laughter that bursts from his chest. He feels free and alive and happy and everything else he was once afraid he’d never be able to. Buck skims a thumb along his cheek bone and grins.

“If you’re done, I really want to kiss you again,” Buck says once Eddie’s laughter has faded to a soft chuckle.

Eddie grips Buck’s waist and hums. “I don’t know, I think I need to process,” he teases.

“Oh, that’s fine, I’ll just sit here and freeze while you—” Buck makes a surprised noise as Eddie surges forward and cuts him off with his lips.

They break apart a second time and Eddie rests his forehead against Buck’s. “I’ve processed,” he says, quiet and smiling.

“Yeah?” Buck asks, a little breathless.

Eddie hums an affirmative. “Best thing I’ve ever heard, had to let it sink in.”

Buck presses a soft, chaste kiss to the corner of Eddie’s mouth. “It takes a second,” he agrees.

Another gust of wind blows past them. A few leaves begin their gentle descent to the ground and Buck shivers.

“Come on,” Eddie says, laughing lightly as he pulls back and stands. He holds his hands out and Buck takes them. “You’ve got a hoodie in the Jeep.”

Buck’s head tilts adorably. “I didn’t…” he says, trailing off as the confusion in his expression makes way for that quiet, disbelieving smile that seems to be reserved exclusively for Eddie.

“You’re always cold,” Eddie says with a fond eyeroll. He tugs at Buck until he stands.

“Not always,” Buck says, suddenly inches from Eddie.

Eddie swallows as a shudder of anticipation travels down his spine. “No?” he asks faintly.

Buck fixes him with a look Eddie’s seen before, though never directed at him. “Nope,” he says, eyes dark and lips curling.

The effect is lessened slightly as the breeze kicks up again and Buck cringes away from it. The tip of his nose is bright pink. Eddie wants to kiss it, so he does.

He laughs again and drops one of Buck’s hands. “Let’s go, cowboy, you can seduce me in the Jeep.”

Buck’s mouth opens and closes. “Uh, that’s—yeah, let’s do that,” he says in a rush.

They quickly make their way back up to the trailhead. Eddie can’t remember ever smiling this much, but even when his cheeks start to hurt it’s impossible to stop. He’s happy, happy in a way he didn’t even know was possible until very recently.

When they reach the overlook, Eddie pauses just long enough to lift their joined hands and press a kiss to the back of Buck’s.

Buck’s eyes widen. “When did you get so…” He gestures vaguely.

Eddie snorts. “I have game,” he says.

“No,” Buck says incredulously, “you don’t. Or—or didn’t.”

“It sounds like you think I have game,” Eddie teases.

“I think you should get in the Jeep so we can go home and test the theory,” Buck replies.

“Gonna have to let me go first,” Eddie says, nodding toward their intertwined fingers.

Buck blushes but makes no move to extricate himself from Eddie’s grip.  

“Or not,” Eddie says softly.

“I just…” Buck trails off.

Eddie squeezes his hand.

“I want to remember this,” Buck says, ducking his head. “How everything feels right now.”

“Even the cold?” Eddie asks.

Buck squeezes his hand. “M’not cold,” he says.

The wind blows, and Buck crowds in closer to Eddie, trying to hide from it.

“I think you might be a little cold,” Eddie murmurs.

“Maybe I just wanted to kiss you again,” Buck replies.

Eddie grins. “Don’t let me stop you,” he says.

Buck presses a feather-light kiss to his cheek, then his nose, then the corner of his mouth. Eddie feels his cheeks heat beneath his touch.

“Okay,” he says softly. He steps back and lets go of Eddie’s hand. He fishes his keys out of his pocket and unlocks the Jeep.

Eddie climbs into the passenger seat as Buck settles in front of the wheel, just like they’ve done a thousand times before. He reaches into the back and grabs Buck’s hoodie, the slightly oversized one that he loves to wrap himself in on days just like this one. He hands it to Buck. As he watches Buck wriggle into it, he’s hit with a wave of joy all over again.

“I love you,” he says when Buck’s head pops out from the hood, just because he can.

“You’re such a sap,” Buck says, but it sounds a whole lot like I love you too.

Buck turns the key in the ignition, and the stereo comes to life playing the same song as before.

Is that a blue sky? The singer asks.

“It’s about damn time,” Eddie can’t help but sing along.

Buck grins at him and grabs his hand.

It’s about damn time.

[mwebber]

frosh was also surprisingly pleasant idk i thought it’d be much more nervewracking but oh yeah. no yeah we’re gonna be just fine methinks

[lunajay33]

Future🍂

Summary: Daryl’s the only one that’s ever made you feel loved so when you get separated during the apocalypse you feel lost without him

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x f!reader

•Masterlist•

Daryl was there for me growing up and I was there for him, when his dad acted out on him I was there to hold him through the night, when a guy would break my heart he’d do everything he could to cheer me up, we were inseparable, so we saved money and bought a little house in the woods together, it was peaceful everything was just settling for us, eventually he asked me to be his girl and it was the happiest day of my life

Then came the apocalypse, thankfully I was with him when everything happened and he took me to the quarry away from the town staying far away from big crowds, we shared a tent and I’d grip him tight at night scared that if I closed my eyes he’d be gone in the morning or something would happen and he’d turn into a walker

Eventually we made it to the farm, life seems like it can be good here, there’s water, land to grow crops, chickens and livestock, even after everything that’s happened including Daryl’s accident I’ve felt a sense of calm for once

“Hey sunshine ya doin okay?” Daryl asked as he sat next to me around the low burning fire as he handed me a plate of bacon and eggs

“Oh yeah I’m fine just thinking about how we use to live, remember all the plans I had for our home, all the recipes I wanted to make, all the trips I wanted to experience with you, a family…….” I said the last part under my breath but the man had the ears of a bat

“Ya wanted a family…..with me?” He asked a bit of shock laced in his voice

“Of course D why would I, have a little girl running around with crazy dark hair like yours, seeing you play with her, maybe getting a dog you like, I just had so much more for us, but I’m still grateful that we were able to escaped together”

“Maybe one day we can still have that, ya never know sunshine, I wish I coulda given ya more”

“You give me plenty Daryl”

Everything was happening so quickly one minute the barns on fire the next there are walkers swarming the farm, I tried to get to Daryl but I got cornered by walkers having to run into the woods, my heart was beating so fast that was all I could hear, running for what seemed like hours till the sun started to rise, eventually I couldn’t hear anymore groans and moans of walkers, I slumped against a tree exhausted when I realized I’m in the middle of nowhere with no idea how to get back or where to even start looking for Daryl

That heavy feeling gripped my heart voiding me of any emotion but despair, I walked and walked and walked down the long winding road heading South, making stops for any supplies left at random houses or stores I came by, 2 months into be on the road I became sick, not being able to keep anything down, exhausted more from the long days of walking, coming to realize I was pregnant, it gave me a little bit of hope knowing that if I truly never found Daryl again atleast I’d have a part of him still

The months dragged on until my belly was plump with a little Dixon, luckily I found a house unscathed from seekers, the food stocked high which made sure I was malnourished during this pregnancy, I loaded up a car with the groceries and drove, everything worked for a few months, I am guessing I’m about 7 months now and the food was running low and the gas was running out, slowly my car came to a halt, I got out feeling the Georgia heat when I heard running water, I ventured into the trees with my canteen finding a a small man made waterfall, I filled the canteen when I heard shots, looking forward over a hill I see a prison, people walking around, I was secure no walker inside, distracted I didn’t notice where I was stepping and stepped right onto a nail on the train tracks making my fall and bust my eyebrow open, my knees ached and my hands were bloody, I pulled my self up screaming when I ripped my foot off the nail, the scream alerted near by walkers until they swarmed around me, I was scared and weak, this couldn’t be how I go I still haven’t found Daryl and I had to protect this baby

I gathered as much strength as possible running towards the prison gates, praying they would take me in and help just for today, I made it to the gates exhausted with a trail of walkers behind me when a woman with dreads appeared at the gates

“Please let me in I need help….please I’m begging” I cried holding my belly seeing her eyes soften as she noticed my baby bump, she yanked open the gates right in time to let me in and shut it on the walkers

“Come on hun let’s get you cleaned up” she smiled leading me up to the prison, we almost made it inside when I heard the familiar grumble of the bike I use to ride on all the time, late at night when everyone in town was asleep Daryl would take me out roaming around

I turned my heart leaping every second that passed, until I knew for sure it was him, and it was I could recognize that hair anywhere, he parked the bike and looked around till his eyes landed on me, and he did something I’ve never seen him do before, he dropped to his knees crying

I wobbled over to him still in pain but I didn’t care, I dropped gently to my knees infront of him holding his face in my hands

“I can’t believe I found you Daryl, it’s really you” I weeped as took me shoulders and held me tight against his chest

“I looked for ya everywhere I swear I never gave up, that day when ya weren’t with anyone after the farm it felt like my life was over, but I knew ya were still out there, god I love ya”

“I love you too Daryl, so much”

“Sorry to interrupt this beautiful moment but your girl need some medical attention” that’s when Daryl noticed my busted eyebrow and all the blood over me

He picked me up in his arms bringing me inside to Hershel

“The hell happened to ya angel?” He asked as Hershel attended to my wounds

“I stepped on a nail and fell in just glad I didn’t land on the baby”

“Baby?” Daryl face drained of color standing there frozen

“You didn’t notice? I’m pregnant D” I said flattening down my shirt to make my belly more prominent

“I guess I was just to stunned”

“You seem a lot more healthier than the Lori, how did you manage?” Hershel asked as Daryl came to sit by me squeezing my hand, something he did when he was anxious

“I found a fully stocked house, only just ran out of food today”

“I’d say you’re pretty lucky lil lady, now I’ll give you two some space”

Daryl looked at me with such love mixed with worry

“I can’t believe yer pregnant and it’s mine?” He asked gently rubbing the bump feeling the baby kick

“Of course it’s yours D, you know I’ve only ever been with you, I’ll only ever want you”

“I’ll keep ya both safe, I’ll give ya that dream life ya wanted fer us, I promise”

“I just need you Daryl, I just want you”

[receival]

baldur’s gate 3 starters.

the following is a collection of sentence starters from larian’s baldur’s gate 3. part 2.

look at me - i’m not a monster.

stay back. i don’t want to hurt you, but i will.

no. you’re not one of them at all.

i was ready to run you through. my mistake, friend.

that’s far enough. what’s your business down here?

you revealed our location? that tongue gets any looser, (name), and i’ll cut it out.

reckon i might miss this place.

this place is more dangerous than i thought.

well, don’t you cut a fine figure.

sometimes i’m jealous of that girl. ugh - to feel so invincible again.

in your expert opinion, what’s the best way to kill a devil?

i’m certain there are answers out there. we’ll find them together.

there’s no story. none that you’re entitled to hear, anyway.

you can tolerate a great deal of suffering, so long as it has meaning.

until then, all i can do is endure.

please try to understand that it’s not something i can just talk about freely.

perhaps there’s potential in you.

honestly, your faith is your own concern. i won’t judge, one way or the other.

i think i did well by joining you.

you already know my biggest secrets. what more can you ask?

that wall’s an illusion! hiding what, i wonder …

sun, moon, and stars will still be there, waiting for us.

this place is pretty spectacular, isn’t it?

no book or painting could ever do its strange beauty justice.

a perfect ring of mushrooms … nature, or magic?

hmm. i thought that might’ve done something.

another illusion. is anything real down here?

i’m more concerned with this ‘twit’ who set a spectator on you.

a rival - a mere footnote to my legend. you should be more concerned with who i am.

the fools must have turned back. or, better yet, died in the search.

i need no more rivals. try to take this as a compliment, yes?

this presence … this magic is not divine, but fey.

little? i am a god! and i’m gonna rip you - tear you - wear you for a hat -

don’t do anything hasty, now.

i’ll just kill you and claim it for myself.

i’m the lord of murder - i’ll show you why.

if you’re expecting me to drop to my knees before you, forget it.

a wizard’s tower is his sanctum, a private place for research and respite. but as this wizard’s not home … i say we take a peek.

a strange place for a button. especially one that doesn’t work.

what good would it do for me to be troubled? we can’t save them all.

you’ll have to speak slowly. i find it quite difficult to concentrate with my condition gnawing at my insides like a teething displacer kitten.

the whole village is falling to pieces …

hey, maybe we can scare up a few dusty bottles of wine somewhere.

i like your way of thinking. split any takings we find?

what creatures live in water this dark?

i’m a rabid dirty dog. and i bite.

i could’ve killed you before you even noticed me, but i didn’t. stand down.

i can be discreet. no need for bloodshed.

share? you really are in the wrong place.

a bleeding heart, are you? reckon i’ll just roast and eat it.

what in the hells did you do to that corpse?

you do plenty for me, more than you realize. but this cannot be remedied.

are you alright? is there anything i can do to help you?

enough. bickering won’t save your friend.

run away, then.

(name) - i was so worried! did they hurt you?

who cares? we’re together now, thank gods!

i’m grateful, don’t mistake me, but … why help us?

freeze it, cock-stench. we aren’t done just yet.

pay up, and you get to skink away. resist, and i gut you.

drop it. i don’t owe you anything.

your incompetence has been my ruin.

stop! no more innocents will die today, (name).

you care for the weak. most curious.

you so much as touch me, and i’ll tear you from limb to limb.

ah - another treacherous soul walks among us.

i ain’t going down easy.

you been a shit since i laid eyes on you, (name).

strike him down. prove your faith.

your silence speaks to your heresy.

look, you have no idea what you’re dealing with …

it’s the whole damn reason we’re here, and i’m not leaving without it.

the mission comes first.

and i thought i’d heard it all. that’s some cambion-level deception.

i go where there’s shit to stir. and there’s no shortage of options.

i can’t remember much, truth be told.

centuries of torment will do that to you.

you’ve been naughty. and you know what happens when you’re naughty.

just who in the nine hells are you?

well, well. aren’t you a luscious thing?

been a long time since someone stuck their neck out for me like that.

you have a manner of irresistible desperation about you. i like it.

you know, i’ve been thinking. and i think there’s something i should tell you. nothing big or terrible, just … a small little detail about me that hasn’t come up naturally.

i want to join you - to fight by your side.

i’m sorry for barging in like this, but i had to come find you.

i won’t let you down. i promise.

we all have our burdens, one way or the other.

i’m trying to say that you’ve earned my trust in a way very few ever have … i want that to mean something.

freedom - i’d forgotten how it felt. thank you.

if you have a moment, i’d like your opinion on something.

the problem is this: a preponderance of evidence that i am a terrible adventurer.

i can’t risk re-capture. i barely escaped last time.

it was a mistake. and not one we’ll repeat.

i don’t know. he was kind of fun.

we can’t just invite danger in to our hearth like that. we must be more careful.

most monsters will think twice before making a meal of me.

an old hunter’s trick - if you can’t mask your scent, spoil it.

i prefer a weapon to stench, thanks.

you’re a monster hunter? not what i imagined.

whatever you’re hunting, your stench alone will kill it.

a quick wit is rare indeed.

know how to ask, and they’ll share that knowledge. if you’re fool enough to pay their price.

speak plainly. what is she?

i think you’re mistaken - this place looks innocent enough.

truth is like a blade, my friend. we can arm ourselves with it - or just as easily find it pressed against our throat.

i would not put you in danger.

your coyness is getting boring. tell me.

you take insult where none is intended, my friend.

how thoroughly invigorating it is to stand by one’s friend in the face of danger.

you best have one hells of an apology for me.

you must have mistaken me for someone else.

that wriggler swimming in your brain juice is a bit of an inconvenience, isn’t it?

that’s none of your concern.

don’t change the subject.

keep that hole under your nose shut.

let’s not involve ourselves in this place any longer than is necessary.

you want to play the hero so badly? fine. let’s make this interesting.

gods, it’s hot in here.

i’ve had better days. and worse ones.

i am, after all, the villain of the tale.

you truly are a soul that steels my own.

you are as thick as they come.

even i am tired of the sound of my own voice.

i stand at a precipice, but if you do not give up hope, neither shall i.

all of this … it must feel like a betrayal.

you bastard! you ruined it, you ruined everything!

slow down - what did i do?

this is an interesting way of thanking me.

i don’t need this. good luck getting out of here on your own.

i know i should head home, but … i can’t bring myself to leave.

(are you alright?) / not even a little bit. but i will be.

she favored me like a child favors a captive pet.

i promise i will not betray your trust.

i cannot thank you enough.

you will face (name)’s judgement.

i wish you could have visited at a better time.

you had no right to intervene.

you’re not one of us.

copper for your thoughts?

always a delight to speak to you.

did i play games like this in my youth? was i sweet once?

what are you doing? i’m busy here!

nothing beats the taste of stolen beer.

come on, now. they’re just having a bit of fun.

let’s do what we have to do, then get out of here.

smell’s like burnt flesh.

hold out your arm so i can mark your flesh.

i’m here to spill your guts across the floor.

pain without purpose is a terrible thing, wouldn’t you agree?

i often feel i like raw pain too much. it scares me.

as long as the story ends in death, it’s all the same to me.

forgive me, but - that look in your eyes. something terrible has happened to you.

what i see in your eyes, in your soul, is only natural.

we’ve all suffered in these dark times. it is little wonder you hear scars of pain and anguish.

touch me and you’ll lose your hand.

the pain you suffer will cleanse you - do not fight it.

you look tired. should i take over?

welcome the pain. let it become part of you.

that looks like it’s going to bruise.

not that i’m suggesting we stop for a drink, of course.

i wouldn’t want to place all my faith in blind luck.

sympathies won’t help me to survive.

your life, much like your words, is meaningless. end the latter to save the former.

looks like the booze got the better of them. they’re practically unconscious.

they’re dying for me. all of them.

why don’t you take a closer look? i’ll observe from back here.

please don’t open the creepy book!

toddlers are easier to please than you lot.

you know, i never pictured myself as a hero.

all i want is a little fun. is that so much to ask?

having performance issues, (name)?

never have i met such troglodytes.

i was hoping you wouldn’t notice i was gone.

i suggest we admire it from afar.

it would be too much to hope that’s nothing to do with us, wouldn’t it?

i go my own way - alone.

i’ll feed your innards to the ants before i do that.

[coffeeandbatboys]

Whenever, Wherever

pairing: Fives x Reader, Torrent x reader (platonic)

This is a little gift for @the-bad-batch-baroness

A/N edit: STEPH I'M SO SORRY THIS HAS BEEN SITTING IN MY DRAFTS WHEN I THOUGHT I POSTED IT.....

Warnings: Fluff. Maybe a little suggestive towards the end. Kisses and cuddles y'all.

The sassy lean against the wall ™️

You raise your comm to your lips. "Are we ready?"

Hardcase's hushed voice answers. "Yep. Target is in place. I wanted to watch but someone won’t let me out of the medbay.” Hardcase sighs.

Kix groans frustratedly in the background.

“‘Case, you got thrown twenty feet and you have a concussion. That’s plenty of reason for me to keep you here.”

“That might backfire on you, Vod.” Jesse snickers.

Kix echoes Jesse mockingly and Hardcase signs off with “good luck” while you peek into the mess hall where the rest of Torrent is.

The 501st are on a mission to Naboo, but temporary barracks have been set up to accommodate the troopers planetside, allowing them to enjoy the rich scenery and culture.

Dogma and Echo sit off to the side, having a conversation about something while Tup and Vaughn play Sabbacc with the very person that you came to see. Fives’ back is turned to the door as you slip quietly inside and make your way to the table, draping yourself over his shoulders.

With a smirk, you coo into his ear. "Hey there, stranger. Mind if I crash here for a bit?"

He turns to face you, cards forgotten on the table.

“Mesh’la? What are you doing here?”

You giggle. “Nice to see you too. Can’t I surprise my boyfriend?”

He smiles and tugs you into his arms, nuzzling his face in your neck and breathing deeply. Sure, it’s probably a dumb idea to go soft in front of his brothers, but they’re no one to judge either.

Besides, it is you; his cyar’ika.

“You came all the way out here to see me?” He asks, placing a lazy kiss to the side of your neck.

“Yeah, I did. Senator Amidala owed me a favor so I figured I’d come see you.” You say, gently tugging his hand so he follows. After bidding farewell to his brothers, the two of you retreat to a terrace away from prying eyes.

As soon as the two of you are out of sight, his lips crash against yours, needy and passionate. You return the kiss, tangling your fingers in his hair. He mumbles how much he loves you against your mouth, arms tugging you closer still. You’re inherently grateful that he isn’t wearing the top half of his armor, enjoying the warmth of his chest.

You couldn’t ask for anything more as you relax in your trooper’s arms and watch the sun set over the water.

You sigh contentedly. “I missed you.”

Fives tucks his chin over your head and squeezes you tightly. “Missed you more. This is nice.”

You hum happily in response, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“The senator got me a suite at a hotel. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if I had I dunno, say...a bodyguard?” You smirk, relishing in the groan that rumbles through his chest.

“I’m afraid I’d be a little too preoccupied with something else to be your security detail.”

“The closer you are, the safer I am,” You tease.

“Well then,” He says playfully, picking you up easily. “Where exactly is this hotel?”

[skynapple]

Budding Romance | Ch. 7

Love and Deepspace | Jeremiah x MC / slow-burn / friends-to-lovers

warnings: none

Multi-chapter | A03 link

Beginning | <- Prev | Next ->

A new day, a new dead plant

The morning air was crisp and fresh, the summer sun already warming the earth to a slightly uncomfortable temperature by the time most of the world was awake. It never ceased to amaze him how drastic the earths temperatures could be throughout the year. It always made him long for the carefree summers of his youth on Philos, running through warm tall grasses with not a wanderer in sight. 

Despite his sunglasses, the sun already felt too bright. Especially with the dark backpack he wore, perspiration had begun on his back through his thin white shirt, only making him more uncomfortable as he stood outside her apartment complex. The flowers in the planters surrounding the building already looked sorely parched, and added to the dizzying scent of summer smells as the last of the morning evaporated away. A few thoughts came to mind. One, that he should have remembered to get a haircut, two, that despite their agreed upon time, she was late. A strange sensation of humor tickled his brain, knowing that the woman he had known had always been exceptionally punctual.

Another minute passed and finally she texted to indicate that the front gate was open for him. He passed through, and headed up the familiar elevator. Although she was a floor beneath Xavier, the layout in the hall was identical. Since she and Xavier were neighbors, it wasn’t his first time at the complex, but it was his first time without Xavier’s knowledge of him being there. At first he’d felt inclined to let him know he’d be stopping by, but thought better of it. It was an interesting coincidence to him that she was quite literally the exact apartment beneath her fellow hunter. He couldn’t help but wonder if maybe it was too coincidental… then again, despite Xavier’s patient way of calculating things, Jeremiah had noticed that things just tended to just happen in the mans favor. 

The door swung open and he couldn’t help but smile at her overtly enthusiastic greeting.

”Hello, sir! Welcome to my humble abode! Thanks for coming.”

He’d never known her to be one for theatrics, it made him want to laugh. The pink over-all dress she wore with soft white chiffon sleeves was mostly modest in appearance, although seeing her so casual and cute made him feel like maybe he was seeing a side of her that he wasn’t supposed to. And also that it could be more teasing fuel against Xavier later.

As he followed her inside, she offered him common hospitalities, which he gently refused, suddenly not wanting to invade her space too much. While he had felt comfortable and informal with her, he realized that he just wasn’t a part of her life. This was an acquaintance-in-her-home-for-a-quick-assist thing. Not a longtime-friend-hangout thing. The backpack he brought was set at his feet, grateful for the cool of the air conditioning inside. He spared a glance around, trying not to be too invasive, although, feeling exceptionally curious about what type of person she’d become here. It was a different layout than Xavier’s, neat, with plenty of feminine touches here and there. Scattered around were a few familiar plants and florals. It felt surreal to be there.

Almost as if she picked up on the mental “business” attitude, she retrieved her ailing succulent and set it on the thin kitchen bar in front of him.  “See!” She indicated, incredulous. “I barely water it. I feel like a succulent should be pretty hard to kill. Am I just that bad at this?”

Taking it, he examined it, humming in thought, albeit a bit amused. In fact, there was not a single thing he had known her to ever be bad at. Ever. To realize she had such an anti-green thumb was almost…endearing. "How often are you watering it?” He asked.

"Let's see... probably once every 3 days? I know I'm not supposed to water it every day."

"I see. And where do you normally put it?"

She lead him around, stepping into her room. It was one thing to be in her home, and another to be in the very room she slept. Whatever he had imagined the day before, he was not prepared to be stepping inside. A fluffy carpet caught his eye and a few glittering objects. The cuteness of all of it left him in awe. The brilliant commander he’d known, with soft feminine touches. He wondered if she was like this all along, secretly. Then again, it wasn’t as if they had opportunities to let their objective personalities be on display very much in matching uniforms during a war. 

Moving a little awkwardly, he followed her to the window next to her bed, where he asked her a few questions about the angle of the sun throughout the day and the draft from the air conditioning, take his time in explaining that despite the window being closed, the heat would still radiate inside from the glass. She seemed to listen eagerly, but he felt the urge to tease that it wouldn’t last despite her efforts. 

“You say you’re paying attention but I saw the other dying plants around your living room. Shall I start writing a eulogy for your succulent soon?”

“What? Not fair! Let me show you my pothos. I promise it’s doing so much better ever since I started following your instructions!” She exclaimed, guiding him back through her room to the kitchen area where she picked up the leafy pothos. It was admittedly doing much better than the last time he’d seen it.

“Alright, I guess someone can follow instructions.”

For some reason, she beamed up at him proudly. “Yes! I’ll keep getting better.”

He took another glance around, laughing internally at the sight of more dying plants next to her television set. Just then he noticed the absence of a rather large object.

“Where exactly did you put your prize from last night? I didn’t see if in your room.”

“Oh! This way. It’s on the balcony."

He followed her outside to her balcony, noting that it was decently spacious, enough for a pair of seats, a small table, a few plants, and a large plush toy with two significantly smaller plush toys posed in front of it. He fleetingly wondered if this is where she and Xavier spent days off.

“So I see it’s found its home here.”

"Yeah! And those are its siblings, the matching set. Xavier helped me catch those actually from the claw machine at the arcade by the complex."

Ah, so they are meeting outside of work. Good.

“Really?” He remarked, trying to sound surprised. “I didn't know he had it in him."

“Actually,” She laughed leaning against the wall against the balcony. “He has a whole book on how to win at claw machines."

Jeremiah laughed, trying to think of how best to spur her interest further. "He has a whole host of strange books. He’s an interesting fellow. Which, I’m sure you'll find the more you get to know him.”

The breeze picked up, carrying her hair and a light fruity scent with it. It was a welcome relief from the warmer weather outside. Throughout his fragmented memories, there wasn’t a time he could recall where he noted her wearing scented fragrance, except, probably for a special occasion. 

“Ah, speaking of books, I brought you something."

"You brought me something?” She asked, interest piqued. 

He slipped inside and retrieved a book from the backpack he’d brought, grinning at the title. A quick glance at the time told him he shouldn’t overstay what was supposed to be a quick bout of assistance. Just like before, he had to tell himself not to get too comfortable. 

Returning to the balcony, he slid the door shut behind him, and handed her the book. ‘How to Keep Plants Alive: For Dummies.’

She made a face, wrinkling her nose at him but laughed. "Jeremiah!"

The familiar tone was the one he missed the most. It was the voice he heard most often, right after teasing her. The tone was familiar but the expression was new. Normally, it had been of irritation along with a usual punch in the arm. It didn't come. Whether is was the warm weather or from the gesture of receiving such a gimmicky book, her cheeks were lightly tinted pink to match her dress.

"I'm not that bad, am I?” She was saying in despair.

"Worst I've seen. Of alllllll my customers, you're the most murderous.” As he saw her expression of helplessness, yet alight with humor, he continued teasing. "You're lucky your plants have me. Look at them! You’ve given them anxiety."

Now she bit her lip to stifle a laugh and did thwack him in the arm. He laughed, pulling away and putting his arms up to block his chest as if expecting another hit. It may have been the heightened sun, but he did feel warm inside. 

“I’ll study and do better!” She whined.

“You just need to master the basics! Pay attention to the water and light. Keep an eye on the AC drafts. You’ll get it. I think your succulent will survive, they’re pretty resilient.” He comforted, in contrast to his words earlier, only able to handle teasing her so much before caving to her tone, having been totally caught off guard by how earnest she sounded. “But," He continued, indicating behind him towards the living room on the other side of the wall. “That drooping plant by your TV? That one has a disease.”

“A disease?” she asked in disbelief.“Now I know you're making things up. How can you tell?!”

"I'm not!" He took the book from her hands, opened it, flipped to a section, then handed it to her. "Check that out."

“Oh…” She said in awe, examining the pages in shock

“See the health suggestions?” He leaned over, a little closer to her than intended “I think you can save it. I carry that stuff in my shop. It says if you spray it at least once a day, you can probably bring it back.”

Just then the doorbell rang. Jeremiah felt his shoulders tense.

"Oh, sorry, might be a package.” She left to answer the door and he could’ve sworn her cheeks had turned an even darker shade of pink. 

A minute later, a familiar voice inside told him everything he needed to know.

Time to go.

Stepping inside, he found himself face to face with his friend in a casual white hoodie, which he found ridiculous considering the weather.

"What a coincidence." Xavier said, his expressive eyes saying more than words could.

She explained to him animatedly that Xavier was stopping by to drop off a video game for her to try, in turn explained to Xavier Jeremiah’s reason for stopping by.

“I didn’t know we all had the same day off. We should do something!”

"Actually," Xavier said with a nod towards him, “Jeremiah, I thought you were usually busy with research on Saturdays?" 

Jeremiah drew a breath and went to pick up his backpack off the ground. “Sorry, he’s right! I was about to head out. My plant doctoring was all done anyways. But, you two have fun with that video game!”

“Oh,” She sounded disappointed, but he wasn’t sure if that’s just because she liked doing group activities? He couldn’t imagine why else. "Maybe one of these days you can take a Saturday off and we can all go have a fun night like we did yesterday.” She offered, smiling.

Xavier looked perplexed. ”Fun... night?"

He didn't know.

"Yeah!" She cuts in, excited. “Jeremiah helped me get the limited edition plush I was talking to you about!”

“Did he?” Xavier looked right at his eyes.

… Great.

Jeremiah took a step back, waving as if suddenly in a rush. 

“You really missed out, Xav. You two should go tonight. Anyways… I should really get going. See you!”

She called over to him, waving back, ”Sorry you were busy today. Thanks for stopping by!” Xavier was standing very close to her, a softer expression now.

Just like old times, Jeremiah knew when to take his leave. If merely hearing his voice from the balcony was enough to send Xavier running downstairs, then Jeremiah counted that as an entertaining win. All the more reason to continue teasing.

Despite telling himself this, he couldn't stop feeling a little regretful, if not disappointed. The feeling lingered in his heart as he headed back to his base hidden in the shop to get some work done. If the feeling was only a desire to be with his friends like old times, then he assumed there would be more opportunities in the future. What mattered was her proximity to Xavier. He tried to shrug it off.

If it mattered to see her, he’d have to find opportunities to somehow not be in the way when Xavier was around. The mere thought of it made him roll his eyes to himself on the bus.

[blog-of-a-multitude-of-fandoms]

Weapon- T'Challa

Pairing: T’Challa x Reader

Characters: T’Challa

Warnings: N/A

Request: N/A

Word Count: 414

Author: Aaron

T’Challa held his arms behind his back as he stood proudly. His gaze cast itself upon the gallery of weapons that had featured throughout the rich and vast history of Wakanda.

“You see y/n, the only limit with vibranium is your imagination. The possibilities are endless, if you can think it, our scientists and engineers can make it happen.” He ushered you along as he strolled through. “So, you have proven yourself to us, I am not going to beat around the bush. You have helped the people of Wakanda more than you could possibly imagine. We are truly grateful for everything you have done and there is only one way I can begin to show our appreciation.” Your walk through ended at a balcony, the sun was setting on the thick Wakandan forest and light bled through and onto the round table, where a gently smiling woman sat two cups of water down. T’Challa gave her a soft nod of appreciation and gratitude as he brought the cup to his lips.

“I appreciate the offer your highness, but I can not take the throne from you, I may be a force on the battlefield, but I am not able to take lead of an entire country, especially one as great as yours.” T’Challa sat the cup down and placed a firm but comforting hand on your shoulder.

“You are funny y/n, fortunately for us we needed a commander on the field and not a comedian. I want to offer you a weapon of your own design, your own vibranium weapon for you to carry and defend the people of this world.” Your palms sweat and your shoulders began to feel tense at the offer.

“I appreciate the offer T’Challa, but I could not take something so great… surely you have like a keychain or a fridge magnet I could have instead?” His hand gently squeezed your shoulder and you immediately began to feel okay. “T’Challa…”

“Do not worry y/n. We have plenty to spare, it isn’t like we are going to run out any time soon.” He chuckled. “I have seen how you fight y/n, you are a true poet with the weapons you have now, imagine what you could do with vibranium tools.” Your mind began to wonder at the power of the precious metal. “I will give you some time to think, but make sure you let me know before you depart. I am not sending this through the postal system.”

[aonoexpat]

20-08-2023 (1/2)

After my last post, I was very grateful to be given a helping hand by some wonderful people from Te Whanganui-a-tara. Really lovely friends reached out and put me in contact with their family members in Ōtautahi, to set me up with a warm bed, a hot shower and a washing machine for a couple of nights. I am eternally grateful for the quick and effective way in which they guided me to such welcoming homes, and for the family members in question who took me in without a second thought, and treated me as one of their own. It was very nice to have some people to talk to again, and to escape the cold nights so comfortably. There's so much unconditional kindness out there if only we have the courage to ask for it, and I'm so glad I could accept it ❤️ I cuddled with Oscar the cat to my heart's desire, and they even let me tag along to their local raffle night, where I won a lil voucher :)

I also spent one afternoon in Ōtautahi hanging out with a fellow van-dweller, and we went to Uprising, a very cool and creative bouldering gym! We spent a lot of time just sitting on the mats and chatting about our respective experiences as solo travelers, which was very valuable to me.

After my recharging visits, I met up with a German woman who had responded to a facebook (I know, blehhh 🤮) post of mine saying I was looking for travel buddies. We connected over our mutual love for Dutch apple spread, and had some on bread for lunch in a parking lot before teaming up and driving out to Akaroa, a quaint little town out on Horomaka. The scenery out there was absolutely breathtaking, and reignited some of my wanderlust:

We took a quick trip the next morning to visit a pretty little waterfall, and then drove the scenic summit road back! We only stopped to take plenty of pictures, and once to wait for a stray cow to get out of the road 😅

After a short rest stop we continued on our way to the Hakatere Lakes. I'm so grateful that she shared this recommendation with me, because I wouldn't have had the slightest clue that this area was worth a visit without her. I also doubt I'd have had the guts to visit on my own, because it was quite a remote place, the way there including a lot of unpaved roads. Everybody says that one of the most stunning things about Te Waipounamu is the fact that you can drive for 20 minutes and be in a completely different landscape, and I really felt that on this drive. We went from idyllic rolling green hills to harsh, snowy, mountainous surroundings in what seemed like no time at all. We drove past a shepherd who was just gathering all his sheep for the night with his three dogs, and I genuinely clapped a hand to my mouth as we cleared the last hill in the road and caught sight of beautiful Lake Heron!

We spent a couple of minutes there to take in the view, but then quickly moved on because the chilling wind was hard to bear. A little ways down another unpaved road was a campsite right by Lake Clearwater, and we set up shop there for the night. By then the lush grass had given way to dryer, more barren ground, again making us feel like we had traveled to a whole new biome. It was already freezing before the sun had even gone down, so we both filled up our hot water bottles and crawled into bed for an early night.

The next morning we drove further up the road, and around every next curve the valley just opened up to more and more mountains, left and right, far and wide. It felt like we were leaving the land of the living and entering some sort of expansive, rugged, untamed world. We spent the morning hiking up to Mount Sunday, which was apparently a film location for Edoras, the capital of Rohan in the Lord of the Rings trilogy! I couldn't quite find the right angle to replicate the shots from the movie, but that didn't spoil the fun. I will be adding this hike to my top three, because of the 360° panorama of snowy splendour 🤩

Feeling fulfilled for completing a big hike so early in the morning, we got back behind our respective wheels and fueled up before heading to Lake Takapō:

Suddenly we were surrounded by people again, which was quite the shift from the morning we had had. We got some hot drinks to warm up, did some shopping, and decided to just keep going and head to the next lake: Pukaki!

We found a beautiful little campsite by a minor lake called Poaka, and enjoyed the sunset before once again retreating into our cars to escape the freezing cold.

----- I'm uploading all this through the web editor which (only) allows me to add 30 pictures per post, so I will continue this in a part 2! -----

[misterewrites]

What Next Oh Fair Yorrick? (Mirror’s Edge)

Holy shhhhh 3 months? I was gone three months from this story? I am bad at this (actually we were fixing up the house in that time and boi has it been an inconvenience.) But I'm here and so is the next chapter yay! I promise all my writing in general will be more tightly packed and consistent. Unless it's not then you know life got me.

Okay. It's....alot just *gestures to the world* one thing after another and. Just lose yourself here. Disconnect from the world, have fun, read this and other stories. Don't feel guilty if you need to get away from it all. It's okay to just exist and enjoy things. Be safe, keep each other safe, wear masks. I know they're annoying but we're not done yet, the pandemic is still a thing and there's plenty of people who cannot get the vaccine. We need to protect them and each other. Get the vaccine, push for it worldwide cuz we're all in this together. And have fun. Have fun and relax and just let the world be without you for a hot minute.

Also if you are binge reading this, i doubt it but who knows im very modest, here's your break. go stretch, get some water, eat, rest your eyes before you keep going.

Okay that's it for me! have an amazing week, thank you for everyone who reads this story, who gives me likes, and reblogs and views. I know original work is very specific and hit or miss but seriously thank you for reading this. I deeply appreciate it. :) Share with your friends maybe they'll like it! and if you wanna leave me a comment with your favorite bits or how much you like this story I'm always grateful for them. take care and it'll be okay.

If you want to read this story in a more reader friendly place, you can follow the link over here --->

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30599756/chapters/106456251

If you’re curious what the heck all this is about, you can read the story from the beginning over here! ---> https://archiveofourown.org/works/30599756/chapters/75486005

And if you want the list of my complete works which include, but are not limited to, Arcane, Legend of Zelda, Soul Eater, A Percy Jackson you can find that right here ----> https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrE42/pseuds/MrE42

That’s it for me! and the end of the public tour. For those of you leaving us, thank you for your time. Everyone else? Past the do not enter sign below

Summary: Tomorrow has become today and Casey is ready to help the Gravekeeper of Souls stop whatever is threatening the peace of existence but first he needs to know what exactly is the next step in their plan. Surely Yorrick is on it. 

----

Grandma Cassie bought the Remington household when she moved to Newton Haven roughly 30 some years ago and while neither her or her beloved spouse were around anymore, they left a loving home with precious memories Casey wouldn’t trade for the world.

That being said, however, Casey hadn’t stepped foot in his house for a while. He was embarrassed to finda fine layer of dust that blanketed everything and that hung in the air like snowfall. Yorrick mentioned she didn’t mind it so much because she slept in less accommodating places but the young cleric still felt the pang of guilt at the sight of his neglected home.

His parents decided to vacation after his mother retired from Willow’s Rook Neighborhood Watch and they spent the last two years abroad. His sister Kay had left a few years before that when she got married and though she still lived in the neighborhood, her visits were far and few in between. Truth was Casey ended up at her place more often than she did his. Simply put Casey was never home which was a bit ironic for a cleric of the hearth.

Two years.

Casey rubbed at his engagement ring absentmindedly as he entered the home under the glow of the rising sun.

The state of the house was actually worse than last night since he could actually see the dust this time.

“Am I working too much?” Casey rubbed his chin quizzically “No it’s the house that needs to clean itself. Yorrick? Good morning! Are you up?”

Only the creaking of the home settling answered him.

Casey frowned, sliding his bat into his hand while he quietly made his way towards the second floor landing. He left her in his old room upstairs but in reality she had run of the place since he slept in his office as usual.

The stairs groaned under his weight but the silence remained, thick and unbroken.

Casey gripped his weapon tightly when he reached the top. He paused, listening in case something was laying in wait.

Out of everything he was expecting to hear, the trill of a flute wasn’t one of them.

It chirped and squeaked but less like it was playing a song and more as if it was speaking.

Now that he was this close to his room he heard the muffled voice of Yorrick speaking to someone though only the flute responded.

“Are you still mad about that? I couldn’t take you yesterday.”

The flute trilled unhappily.

“I don’t care if you could take them on.” Yorrick snickered gently “You are a thousand years old!You need to act your age.”

A sharp note answered her.

Casey could hear Yorrick rising to her feet “Okay but after we’re done saving the world. Again. Did you notice it?”

A curious note played.

“Yeah. I don’t like it.”

The flute did not respond this time.Instead Yorrick’s footsteps grew louder until she opened the door and saw him standing there.

Casey caught sight of an odd shape ducking out of view as Yorrick hurriedly closed the door behind her.

“Hi!” she beamed brightly, giving a cheery wave with her free hand. The other held tight onto the walking staff, rusty lantern swinging lazily back and forth.

Casey gave a polite smile “Good morning. I yelled from the front door but I don’t think you heard me.”

“You did?” Yorrick frowned quizzically, trying to recall “Oh I didn’t hear you! Well, obviously.”

She chuckled joyfully and Casey nodded in agreement “I understand. You were probably still asleep huh?”

“No I was talking to a spirit.”

Yorrick’s tone was casual but her gaze was intense and focused. It was a bit unnerving but luckily this wasn’t the first time she’d done something like that.

He decided to be honest “I know, I heard.”

“Not worried I’m possessed or something like that?”

“Nope.” Casey replied “You’re the Gravekeeper of Souls. The name kinda tells me what to expect.”

Yorrick’s lips broke into a wide grin “Thank the lantern! You have no idea how much spirits spook people. I get people don’t like dealing with death and denial is a powerful tool but come on! If a spirit wanted to hurt you it would’ve done it by now. Oh! That reminds me! Kal! You can come on out now!”

Kal the spirit looked more like a floating pillowcase than the ghost of a person long past: Kal’s upper half was oval shaped with a wavy bottom. He couldn’t have been taller than two feet and he floated through the air effortlessly. Kal passed through the door like it wasn’t there and began circling Casey, clearly curious at his presence.

Kal made a questioning noise.

“Yep!” Yorrick answered eagerly “He’s the one Cassie was telling us about. You remember the nice lady? Casey here is going to help us take down whatever is disrupting the spiritual balance!”

She clapped excitedly though Kal’s only response was to bob up and down.

“Well I am more than happy to….” Casey paused, unsure he heard what he thought he did “Wait. Did you say Cassie?”

Yorrick nodded.

“Cassie? As in Cassiopeia?”

Another nod.

Casey gulped anxiously “As in Cassiopeia Remington?”

Yorrick pointed his way in confirmation “That’s her! She was telling me all about you last night! Like the time you tried to ride the dog like a horse and ended up getting that scar on your knee.”

The Gravekeeper’s face turned deathly serious for a moment “Why haven’t you cleaned the house Casey?”

“E-excuse me?” he could feel chills run down his spine.

“The house.” Yorrick repeated, her voice empty and distant “She wanted to know why her house is so dusty. She did not raise your mother to raise you to keep a dirty house.”

“I…”

Yorrick waved her hand in a panic “Those were her words, not mine! I was just repeating what she said!”

Casey paled as realization dawned on him. He’d always assumed his grandma passed on peacefully but if she was still here, still held here by some regret or sorrow or something he should’ve tried to get her to move on years ago….

“She’s not here.”

Casey snapped out of his stupor to find Yorrick staring intently at him.

“What?”

“She’s not here.” Yorrick repeated firmly with a soft, sympathetic tone “She did pass on.”

“How do you…?”

She grimly motioned to the lantern “Spirits are more complicated than that. Most people always assume souls are trapped in this reality because X, Y or Z but the truth is it’s a choice. It’s always a choice and just because people move on doesn’t mean they can’t come back for awhile. No different than traveling to another city for them.”

Casey’s face must’ve been dumbfounded because Yorrick gave a hearty laugh “Yeah there’s a lot to spirits but you’ll get the hang of it. Or you won’t! That’s okay too.”

“Yorrick….” guilt tugged at his heartstrings

“Okay.” Yorrick bit her lip thoughtfully “What is the best way to….Oh! Here touch this!”

Before he could react, she gripped his wrist and roughly placed his hand upon a nearby wall.

“Sorry.” Yorrick flinched and gave an apologetic smile “But here! Do you feel this?”

“Yes.” Casey nodded, unsure what he was supposed to feeling.

“And the air? How it fills your lungs? The dust tickling your nose?”

Casey winced guiltily “Oh lord, don’t remind me but yeah I do.”

Yorrick pulled away hurriedly, clearly caught up in her explanation “We use our senses to perceive the world around us. Sight, touch, sound, smell, taste if you’re weird. This is how we navigate life right?”

Casey gave a quick nod.

“Now how could you go through life if you didn’t have any of that?”

Casey’s face narrowed, scrunching as he tried to wrap his head around the question. He thought about it. He thought about for a good minute or so but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t figure a way to explain how could he live his life without relying on his senses.

“I...don’t know….” Casey truthfully spoke after a long pause.

“Exactly!” Yorrick cheerfully gestured to Kal “Spirits don’t have senses. They don’t even have bodily functions anymore! They exist in a reality we mortal beings just can’t understand.”

“Okay but what does this have to do with my grandma Cassie?”

“EVERYTHING!” Yorrick cheered.

Silence fell over the two.

Casey looked at Kal then to Yorrick then back to Kal again.

Yorrick blinked “Oh right. The actual point I’m trying to make.”

“Yes please.”

“Okay.” Yorrick scratched her chin absentmindedly “This feels good. Right. So spirits see the world differently than us. While we deal buildings and air and sky and cars and all that real stuff, they….don’t.”

“Right.” Casey agreed.

“For spirits it’s like being trapped in a fog. A fog that has loads of different shapes and colors but fog nevertheless. Since they don’t have bodies to react to the physical world they can get easily lost which is why they usually tethered themselves to something. Places, items, people.”

“A home perhaps?” Casey whispered as guilt ate at his stomach.

“No!” Casey jumped as Yorrick stomped her foot suddenly “None of that! Spirits are either tethered or, the other thing I was about to mentioned, untehtered. Oooo terminology!”

Casey made an uneasy face “So...grandma Casie is….”

“Unethered!” Yorrick bounced happily “When she died she moved from her mortal coil to the afterlife, which of course is the chosen state of existence a spirit has earned based their actions on Earth. She went peacefully so no beating yourself up.”

“Wait hang on. Then how did you talk to her? The lantern?” Casey was admittedly lost at all this.

Yorrick pursed her lips “Well. A little of A and a little of B. Yes the lantern allows me to speak to spirits, even those who have long since passed, but any powerful spirit medium, spiritualist or relic could do that. I still need to know her if I wanted to bring her back for a visit.”

“Things aren’t powerful because they are. Things are powerful because we make them so.” Yorrick touched the wall and ran her finger down it gingerly “This home, her home, her family’s home. It is so filled with love it’s a beacon to her. A lighthouse in the sea of fog that is the living world. Memory is too powerful a force to be bound by a single person. It takes people to make memories. Even when the people who made them aren’t around to share them anymore. Especially when they’re gone.”

She carefully wiped the dust off a nearby picture frame. Casey could fell his heart ache at the sight of him and Jaime, smiles frozen in time.

“Love.” Yorrick murmured quietly before she spoke louder with clarification “Well also hate. Intense emotions really. Unetethered find their way back through the fog via places or people that meant something to them. Good or bad. Us spirit folks are just connecting them from their world to ours for a little while. A telephone line basically. Because no one is really gone.”

Yorrick stared at the large, aged photo that hung in the center of the hall: A young couple, hands clasped tightly with one another as they shared a smile together. They stared, not at the camera, but deeply into each other’s eyes, love evident in every fiber of their being.

His grandparents on the day of their wedding.

She let out an adoring sigh “Not if we remember them.”

There was a peaceful moment that was quickly broken by a sudden clap from the Gravekeeper.

“And of course.” Yorrick went on without warning “Tethered spirits tie themselves down. Most of the time it’s something or someone important but it’s not unheard of for them to latch on whatever happens to be nearby. Hence the tethered part of the term. They use these tethers as ways to hold themselves in place so they don’t get swept up by the massive confusion of the physical world. Think anchors: Nice, consistent, unmovable against the tide but always have the chance to relocate.”

Casey scratched his chin curiously “oh that does feel good. So those tethered spirits, are they trapped here?”

Yorrick shook her head happily “Nope! They can choose to leave any time they wish. There’s loads of reasons spirits would stay beyond love and revenge. Some just aren’t ready to move on yet, others kind of forget to. Some, of course, are avoiding their punishment for the life they led cause they don’t get an option to come back. Heck I meet one who was just curious about how much a place could change in a hundred years.”

“So what do you do exactly as Gravekeeper?”

“Keep graves.” She answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Casey stared at her.

“Right broad blanket term and not at all helpful. Well my job is to check on the spirits.” “Time is irrelevant for the dead. What is one day, a decade, hundreds of years to them? All feels the same when you lack a body to worry about. Some souls are stuck in place because they have no idea how long it’s been. They usually start haunting people or places because of sudden changes most of the time.”

Casey nodded in understanding “That makes sense. If I had no sense of time and my surroundings suddenly changed completely, I’d be pretty disoriented and upset too.”

“Exactly.” Yorrick smiled for a second before it faded into a grim expression “Of course I also protect the souls. Souls are valuable to a lot of creatures and in all kinds of dark magic. Corruption, consumption, even using spirits as fuel for dark purposes is a very real thing in my line of work.”

Casey remembered Finn’s encounter in Litwick forest along the countless other dangerous situations the trio often found themselves in. His best friend’s general advice was to grant funeral rites to the departed and burn their corpses. He always said it was to protect both body and spirit and while Casey was more than happy to do it but it just occurred to him how important it really was.

Her blew a strand of her hair out of her face as she continued “So I check up on cemeteries and other meaningful locations. Help spirits pass on, force them to move on if they’re causing trouble.” she began to count off the rest of her duties on her hand “Cleansing tainted or corrupted places, pass messages along to the living, fight the odd demon or fae on occasion. Find a way to achieve harmony between the dead and living in the cases where there’s conflict between the two. Holy shit do I do a lot, I just realized that.”

“You’re clearly very capable at it.” Casey said with a hint of admiration.

Yorrick rose to full height, towering over the cleric while she shone with pride “I don’t want to brag and I won’t cuz I don’t have to.”

“Of course.” Casey took a deep breath in “Okay, what are we doing?”

She stared at him for a moment before realizing what he was asking “Oh! us. Umm. What are we doing?”

“The reason you’re here.” Casey offered helpfully.

“Oh right! The spirit-pocalypse I’m here to stop.” Yorrick chuckled “Sorry I’m not used to the living. Most people just stare at me with glazed over eyes. It’s a lot I know but thanks for following along!”

A peaceful silence overtook the two but Casey decided to wait patiently this time.

Yorrick smacked her head “Right right. I recommend we eat first, preferably on the way to the nearest cemetery.”

Casey nodded “Straight from the source right?”

Yorrick smiled wide.

“Well.” he scratched his chin thoughtfully “The nearest one is Hope’s Meadow in the middle of town. There’s a really good sandwich shop nearby we can get breakfast at.”

“There isn’t a cute girl there, right?”

Casey shot her a curious look. Her face was flushed with embarrassment.

“I went to a cafe for a drink yesterday.” Yorrick muttered shyly as she twiddled her fingers together “There was a really pretty girl named My-something. I didn’t pay attention, I got really nervous. I don’t think I can handle another cute girl today.”

Casey softened. He patted her arm gently “How about you let me do the ordering, okay?”

Yorrick nodded happily “Deal! Let me get my tombstone and we’ll be on our way!��

And as she disappeared beyond the door frame with an energetic hop, Casey couldn’t help but mutter to himself.

“Okay so she did say it her tombstone. I wasn’t just super tired and hearing things last night.”

[bethestaryouareradio]

Plant Poetry

“Once the relation between poetry and the soil is established in the mind, all growing things are endowed with more than material beauty.”  Elizabeth Lawrence

Have you ever wandered your garden and realized the growing landscape is poetry in motion? As you’ve read in my recent columns, I have been occupied with aggressive weeding on my land these past several months. Under the masses of foxtails, thistles, spurge, bindweed, black medic, pelargonium robertianum, hemlock, and wild grasses, fields of flowers awaited the sunshine. With only three garden rooms left in my quest to purge the pernicious invaders, my first round of weeding is almost at an end.

The plant poetry has begun. My orchard meadow is glorious with swaths of wildflowers, including golden poppies, sprouted seeds of calendula, nigella, seafoam statice, nasturtiums, blooming cornflowers, iris, geranium, roses, chamomile, lilies, acanthus, strawberry, bougainvillea, and more. My orchard is brimming with fruit trees that will ripen throughout the season. Apricots, cherries, peaches, plums, prunes, mulberries, apples, Asian Pears, elderberries, persimmons, pomegranates, guavas, loquats, figs, and vines of grapes provide edible delights for our household and the wildlife who frequent the meadow. I recently planted a banana tree and two avocadoes, keeping my fingers crossed that they will bear fruit in a few years. Footsteps away is my citrus grove with tangerines, oranges, tangelos, lemons, and cumquats. The hillside is a vibrant, pollinator paradise. 

Bees and bumblebees especially favor the blue nigella, buzzing from blossom to blossom, savoring the sweet nectar. Butterflies and birds flutter and fly through this heavenly fragrant celebration of color, scale, and texture. 

When I view photos from a month ago when this area was blanketed in suffocating weeds, I am grateful for the miracle of nature, this poetic painting abundant with stunning flowers.

The paths are filled with gravel and lined with recycled redwood planks rescued from a renewed deck, both a clever, sustainable, and frugal option. Like the balance of a colorful poem, this design is wild, yet civilized, celebrating the quirks of nature.

Another poetic surprise in my garden this week was the blooming of my cordyline, also known as the Ti plant. One day when I went out for my daily garden walk, iridescent shoots had sprung out of the top of this good-luck tree, glittering in the morning sun. It appears to change hues throughout the day and is impressive. 

I also harvested the first of my zucchini. This was exciting because last summer my plants were eaten by critters. This season I expect to enjoy plenty. 

Cascading over the raised bed in my vegetable garden, edible and tangy nasturtium in red, yellow, and orange shades reminds me of my Nonna’s garden.  Not to be outdone, my Bonica rose bush drapes over the mailbox with voluminous baby pink blooms flanked by fluorescent fuchsia corn flags creating a mesmerizing entrance.  

Each day promises something new and exciting. Plant poetry is indeed endowed with more than material beauty.

Cynthia Brian’s Goddess Gardener Guide for June

ü  It is time to remove the dried leaves from daffodils, naked ladies, woodland hyacinths, freesias, and other spring-blooming bulbs. A quick tug of the dried leaves is all you need to do. If you must pull hard, the leaves are not ready to be removed. I know they look unsightly in your garden, but if you remove the leaves before they have had the chance to provide nutrients to the bulb you won’t have any flowers next spring. Hang in there. You’ll thank me in a year!

ü  Apply snail bait to plants susceptible to snail and slug damage. They come out of hiding at night to nibble your new shoots and because of the rains are an abundant nuisance.

ü  Monitor water needs for your landscape. Water infrequently but deeply. Containers lose moisture more quickly and will need additional attention.

ü  Clean and arrange patio furniture, pads, and outdoor gear. With summer on the horizon, get prepared to party.

ü  Plant summer-blooming bulbs and scatter seeds to surprise you with their brilliance.

ü  If you haven’t finished cutting tall grass, clearing debris, maintaining a fuel break, and preparing for wildfires, do it this week. Be vigilant and a good neighbor!

ü  Deadhead rose blossoms as they fade to keep your bushes healthy and blooming until the end of the year. I have over 200 rose bushes and deadheading is a daily chore, albeit one that yields huge rewards. Wear protective gloves!

ü  Create a vibrant garden masterpiece in your backyard with prolonged performance perennials and annuals available at your favorite nursery.

ü  Celebrate graduations, birthdays, and more with a kaleidoscope of plant poetry.

For more gardening advice for all seasons, check out Growing with the Goddess Gardenerat https://www.CynthiaBrian.com/books. Raised in the vineyards of Napa County, Cynthia Brian is a New York Times best-selling author, actor, radio personality, speaker, media and writing coach as well as the Founder and Executive Director of Be the Star You Are!® 501 c3 which was just honored as the 2024 Nonprofit of the Year by the Moraga Chamber of Commerce. Tune into Cynthia’s StarStyle® Radio Broadcast at www.StarStyleRadio.com. 

Her newest children’s picture book, Books in the Barnyard: Oh Deer!, from the series, Stella Bella’s Barnyard Adventures is available for discounted pre-sales at https://www.CynthiaBrian.com/online-store. Hire Cynthia for writing projects, garden consults, and inspirational lectures. Cynthia@GoddessGardener.com  

StarStyle® Empowerment is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.

[zorosdimples]

kae my sunshine brighter than the sun itself i'm stopping by to kiss you on the cheek and remind you how loved you are and how grateful i am to know you. i hope you have millions of reasons to smile this week <3 pls drink your water and eat super yummy stuff and sleep plenty!!

my sweetest ai: i am begging for—nay, demanding—a kiss as recompense for this wonderful ask!!!! you are so special to me and i hope that you are doing well—better than well! i miss you and i love you and i shall eat, drink, and sleep in your name 💞

[coeursetcolores]

Alfyn, the Apothecary: Chapter 2

WARNING! Spoilers ahead for Chapter 2 of Alfyn’s story in Octopath Traveler!

Alright! Time to destroy our hopes of making a difference in the world with the harsh reality of the pharmaceutical business!

I swear, if this story kicks the life out of my sunshine boy...

Well, we made it to Goldshore at the right time! There’s a sickness going through town! And our boy Alfyn’s on it!

His first patient is a little girl! Again. Oh well, he’s on the case!

...Well he would be. Seems another apothecary’s here. One with very suspicious sounding voice clips....

Time to leave little Ellen then. Our sweet boy will continue on his way.

And to Ellen’s mother, ma’am! I was just trying to help! And there’s nothing wrong with being scruffy! Geez!

What a simple chapter! Now onward to...

...No one bought that, right?

Yeah, we got plenty more to cover. Especially about possibly one of the most twisted characters in this game; and frighteningly, one you could see in real life.

Let’s talk about Goldshore first. We’ve made it to the retirement town! Beautiful beaches and a district for the wealthy, you can just see millionaires flocking here to spend their last days. The water blends beautifully with the sand pixels, making use of the 2d-3d presentation. The sand looks great too, great job on the layering. I also like detail of the cliffs cutting into the bricks on the steps, it really sells the coastal vibe. And the sparkles simulating the shimmering reflection of the sun tie it all together. The city itself is simple, even in the fancier district. Just content to let the beach take center stage. This does make the church seem out of place, clashes with the tone. Still nice. Though, you’d think a town this fancy would clean up that boat wreck at the shore...

Alfyn continues to be a sweet boy, nothing new on that front. I am glad I got to see him figure out stuff on his own: he observed Vanessa’s behavior and while he believed her at first like everyone else, once he saw her act in a way contrary to how she was at first, he became suspicious and investigated thoroughly. It’s important to balance his kindness with his intelligence.

I like that this chapter doesn’t just demonize wanting money. Sure, more value is placed on love like the moral goes, but money is acknowledged as something necessary to survive. Love and helping others is great, but you need to support yourself while you’re at it. The problem is when you let your desire for money override your conscience.

Of course we end up having to cure a sick little girl after all. Who is poor. And was sick before this. All to show how depraved someone would have to be to not want to treat her. Hopefully her mom will be more grateful now...

Okay. Did not expect Ellen to say that.

The Caves of Azure were actually kind of pretty, especially the boss room. I really liked how the emphasis on blue worked, and how the lighting hit it.

Vanessa Hyzel...is a scarily realistic villain. Seeming to cure illness, only to give the patient a new one...Hiding behind a facade of charity to build believability so there’s less of a fuss when she overcharges...This could and does happen in real life. Scam artists are everywhere. And we don’t have a lot of Alfyns to stop them.

WAIT, SHE EXPERIMENTED ON KITTENS?! SHE’S GOING DOWN!

Of course she’s a summon boss. Well, at least she explains why they’re there!

Dang. That was cold, Alfyn. I underestimated you. I knew we couldn’t let her get away, but I didn’t think he’d drug her. Okay, he’s not all sunshine and rainbows.

Yeah, I deserve an apology! Not all scruffy drifters are bad guys, ma’am!

The ending was sweet. It’s nice to have your efforts appreciated, even if you only get seashells from some little girls. But, okay! Getting money in this game is not easy, but I’m not poor! And grown-ups can cry! Everyone has feelings! And you’ll get there Alfyn. You’ll be just like your hero.

Maybe even better.

As for the other’s thoughts on observing a pandemic:

H’aanit: It’s nice she appreciates how good he is with kids. It’s good for work! But she will smile when she feels like it, thank you.

Olberic: It’s nice to see someone whose work is fighting praise someone who works in healing. And I’m glad Alfyn doesn’t criticize Olberic for being someone who’s caused a lot of injuries. They both respect each other and share a determination to hone their crafts. It’s nice.

Cyrus: Dang it, Alfyn! Have some more faith in yourself! You’ll get there! And you’re already doing a good job! ACCEPT THE PRAISE!

Tressa: Way to get our hopes up, Tress. Don’t come at me with that sentimental stuff, we got a party to feed! Okay, I kinda like the mushy, value can’t always be measured in money.

Therion: ...Alfyn, you’re scaring me. How does a conscience get pricked? What does he need to be careful about, Theri? I think he has more of that stuff!

Primrose: You just defended crying, Alfyn. Now you’re trying to look tough in front of Prim. Make up your mind. But yeah, he’d be a great father. One day.

Ophilia: ...’Kay. TMI, don’t need to know about your nervous itching, or where it is, but okay. We’ll keep the praise to a minimum. Even if it’s well-deserved.

Now we go to Saintsbridge!

...I don’t trust that name. Kind of ominous.

But maybe that’s why they need an apothecary?

[collecting-stories]

Inventory - Daryl Dixon

Request: you can write anything tbh! just something small and sweet, if you don’t mind :) (daryl anon)

A/N: This is honestly just random established relationship fluff or something.

The Walking Dead Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

You weren’t entirely sure that you liked Alexandria. It felt like someone had captured the old world in a time capsule and you were viewing all the things that you had forgotten about. Shower pressure and hot water and actual running water weren’t things that you took for granted and you’d practically cried in the bathroom when the toilet flushed but all the other parts felt uncomfortable. Like clothing that didn’t fit you anymore. You weren’t Daryl, waiting with his hand on a gun for the moment everything went to shit, but you certainly weren’t about to done a cardigan and act like a soccer mom getting ready for a bake sale either. You would let Carol handle the assimilating and gossip. Or at least the former, the latter, you couldn’t escape.  

“I wouldn’t’ve pegged him as your type.” Olivia mentioned, hellbent on making inventory a gossip session.  

“What?” You looked away from the open garage door to where Olivia was stacking cans of corn and writing down their number in her composition book.  

“Daryl. I noticed you watch him a lot...is that like, you guys got a thing going on or you just looking?” She asked.  

You paused in your rearranging of cans to look back out the garage door again. Daryl was across the street talking to Aaron and Michonne and you tried to formulate an answer that made sense for Olivia and for you. She hadn’t technically asked if you were ‘together’ (that ominous word that felt so weighty when you said it to yourself) but she was definitely asking for a definition. Were you more than friends, absolutely. That wasn’t even something you needed to think about. You certainly weren’t sharing beds with your friends the way you did with Daryl. But he’d never given any definition to your togetherness and somehow, even defining it felt like such an archaic thing. Another piece of the old world pulled from the time capsule.  

“I mean...” you shrugged, “both I guess?” There was a thing, for lack of a more concrete term, but you also liked looking at him a whole lot. You’d been enjoying looking at him for a while now and sometimes on the road you’d thought, if something happened, who would you look for in a crowd. It wasn’t just that you liked the view, it was that feeling of something that anchored you into the moment, made your head a little less dizzy, made all this more bearable.  

“I guess he’s not bad looking.” Olivia laughed a little, her cheeks reddening at the thought and you wanted to agree. He most certainly was not bad looking. And you had told him so plenty of times, in the privacy of your own room. “He doesn’t seem very...” she paused, looking over at you as if she had caught herself speaking out of turn.  

Small talk and social etiquettes felt like something you’d left behind too, far too used to being direct with people. It almost felt odd for her to be so unforthcoming.  

“Friendly?” You asked. She didn’t need to say it for you to know what she was thinking. It seemed to be a consensus throughout Alexandria. The community had differing opinions about all of you but the one thing they all agreed on was Daryl’s lack of acceptable behavior. He wasn’t particularly friendly with any of them (aside from Aaron maybe) and he acted more like a caged animal than someone who was grateful for shelter and protection.  

“Uh, yeah.” Olivia nodded, pink cheeks staining darker, “I mean, I’m sure he talks to you, of course...it’s just, I’ve never found him to be particularly...warm.”  

Warm, you felt like the word echoed in your mind once she said it. You’d never really spent too much time thinking about the way you would describe Daryl, he was just, himself, and that was it. You didn’t linger on what he was, what you expected him to be. Even if you didn’t ever think of yourselves as ‘together’ you knew exactly what you were.  

You thought about offering up a defense for him, explaining that he was warm. He was being wrapped in a blanket on a cold night or feeling the sun on your shoulders in the early morning. It wasn’t something you considered often, that you felt like you needed to name, but you knew it right away. The words came on the tip of your tongue, like you’d been waiting to think them. But you didn’t get the chance.  

Daryl came up the driveway while you were staring at him and the softest of smiles graced your features as you watched him, giving a small wave. Maybe you wouldn’t have thought about it if you hadn’t been talking to Olivia but, as Daryl held your gaze the whole up the drive, you were reminded of when you might’ve categorised his behaviour as more shy than reserved. Now it felt like he held back because he chose to, deciding what parts of himself other people got to see. When you’d first known him it was more a defense mechanism than an ordinary occurrence, and he’d never been comfortable meeting your eye.  

“Did you come to help with inventory?” You teased, already hearing the grumbled response in your mind before he said it.  

“Just passing by,” he replied, glancing over to the far corner where Olivia was still sitting, notebook open in her lap. “Morning.”

You wondered if she was scrutinising the interaction. Trying to see for herself what you saw in Daryl, as if that was possible.  

“I’ll go check to make sure we’ve got all the dry foods from upstairs.” Olivia announced, standing from her spot and bumping her chair back against the sorting table. It rattled but nothing fell over and she went so quickly out of the room she looked like she was power-walking.  

“What’s a matter with her?” Daryl asked, taking your water bottle from the ground by your chair and unscrewing the cap so he could drink some.  

“She was asking about you, weren’t your ears burning?” You joked.  

He glanced down at you, unamused, before finally taking the bait, “why’s she asking?”  

“Said I stare at you all the time.”  

“So quit staring.” He capped the water bottle and set it back in its place before fiddling with different cans on the shelves, pulling them off and reading the labels.  

“Easier said then done,” you replied, grabbing your notebook off the shelf in front of you, “besides, I don’t wanna forget what you look like.”  

“Why? You going somewhere?”  

You scrunched your nose at his words and shook your head, “no, but you are right…saw you talking to Aaron.”

“Think ya watch me just ta spy on what I’m doing.”  

“I’m right though, you two are headed out?” You asked.  

“Don’t make it something it ain’t…I’ll be back in a few days time.”  

Daryl was good at coming back when he left, you knew it from experience. He’d come back when he’d left with Merle, he’d come back when he’d left to find Beth, when he went off on his own to hunt he always came back. As sure as you were that he would leave, you were just as sure he would find his way back again. It wasn’t something you had to think about or reassure yourself of but sometimes it was easier to give in to that worst case scenario that sat in the back of your mind.  

“I know,” you said it like you were promising him, “but that’s a few days without seeing you…who am I supposed to look for?”  

Daryl set down the can of beets he was looking at and walked the short distance back to you. His hand wrapped around the end of your ponytail and he gave a gentle tug, guiding your head all the way back so you were looking straight up at him. You thought it was probably a good thing Olivia wasn’t here, she’d seemed scandalised enough at his presence in the room, you could imagine all the things she’s knock over if she saw him now, one hand holding your ponytail and the other on your neck as he leaned down and kissed you.  

It was a softer kiss than the hold implied and you considered the juxtaposition of Daryl’s softness and roughness your favorite thing about him. It’d taken a while, to see the soft bits, but now you saw them all the time. How he kissed you so comfortably, like he’d always been doing it. His tongue brushing your bottom lip almost teasingly but he pulled away before you could do more, standing back up straight and dropping his hands. He gripped the back of your folding chair and you leaned against his hand, feeling them press into the skin between your shoulder blades, bare from your tank top. You kept your head tilted back, a little more comfortably though.  

“When do you leave?” You asked, half expecting him to tell you he was headed to the gate now. Your brain still felt a little dizzy from the kiss but that was a normal occurrence.  

“Tomorrow morning.” He replied, letting go of the chair to run his knuckles along your spine. “Shouldn’t be longer than a day or two.”  

There was a quieter bumping noise and a soft curse as Olivia peeked back into the doorway, a few boxes of pasta haphazardly held in her arms. “Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.”  

“It’s alright,” you replied but truthfully you were just being nice. Because Daryl had already retracted his hand you felt goosebumps on your skin in his absence, as if your body was trying to chase the sensation of him.  

“Ya need help?” He asked, motioning to the boxes as she dropped them onto the sorting table.  

“Would you mind? I’ve got another laundry basket full of them to bring down here and I dropped like five on the staircase.” She explained, following after him to point them out.  

Daryl disappeared through the door, Olivia right behind him, and you went back to organising the latter half of the alphabetically arranged cans. Olivia tended to be more loose-lipped than her other Alexandria counterparts and you couldn’t help imagining her asking him questions, trying to dig out some part of a person under the cold exterior he’d given off while he was here. Searching for the warmth she thought was lacking. They weren’t gone long, Olivia’s chipper voice carrying down the stairs.  

Daryl came through first, laundry basket piled high and the slightest hint of a glare as his eyes met yours, as if you’d somehow put him up to the task of helping.  

“You can set them on the sorting table,” Olivia instructed, “I’ll go through them once I’m finished the canned goods.”  

Setting them down, Daryl just nodded in agreement. You stopped from saying you’d see him tonight, in case that information was somehow on a need to know basis. But he was obviously being less purposefully withdrawn than you’d thought because he took another sip from your water bottle before telling you the exact thing you’d been too reserved to say.  

“I’ll see ya tonight,” he promised, putting your water bottle back and giving your ponytail a playful tug before leaving back down the driveway.  

You watched after him until he turned the corner and was out of eyesight.  

“I can see why you like him so much…” Olivia finally said, getting your attention as you looked back at her.  

“What?” You asked, wondering if he’d said something to her that changed her mind.  

Her cheeks tinged pink again and she looked down at her notebook, “I wasn’t trying to spy or anything…just, you know, wanted to bring those boxes in.”  

You nodded, prompting her to continue.

“I saw him kissing you…” she let out an airy sigh, “I’d be staring at somebody all day if they kissed me like that.”  

[foolhearts]

happy miami gp! hope y'all are enjoying the vibes as much as i am. i wrote this ridiculous seb/lewis thing last night and thought i'd release it into the world (tumblr). inspired by and dedicated to @collarboen. it's extremely sappy with a hint of (implied) armpit kink. enjoy!

It’s hot in Miami. Lewis loves it, even though the humidity is bordering on oppressive and he knows it’ll become unbearable at some point during the weekend. Sebastian is already complaining, even though all they’ve done so far is check into their hotel and change into shorts because Lewis plans on immediately taking advantage of the balcony in their suite. 

“We could just relax here, where it’s air conditioned. You know we’ll be spending plenty of time outside in the next few days,” Seb points out, a grin on his face as if he thinks he’s making a funny joke. 

Lewis rolls his eyes fondly. “I know your idea of fun is skinny dipping in a frozen pond, but I came here to enjoy the warm weather. Besides,” he giggles as he gently pinches one of Seb’s pec muscles, “you could use some sun.” 

Seb snorts and playfully swats Lewis’s hand away. “If I get sunburned and it’s too painful to put on my fireproofs this weekend, I’m blaming you.” He obliges Lewis though, pulling a book and his sunglasses out of his backpack before following Lewis through the sliding glass doors out to the balcony.

The humidity hits Lewis like a wave and he can feel a light sheen of sweat on his skin almost immediately. But there’s a gentle breeze that’s refreshing. He leans his elbows on the balcony and looks out at the ocean. He watches the swells where the water transitions from a greenish teal to a deep blue. He can dimly hear the bustle of people on the beach and the waves crashing in the distance but it seems a world away. He’s grateful for these moments where he can relax and reset. His shoulders relax as he tips his face toward the sun. The air smells like salt and he takes a deep breath. 

He turns back toward Sebastian, who’s situated himself onto an oversized lounge chair that’s partially shaded. He's holding his book but he’s not reading it, it’s obvious he’s been staring at Lewis instead. He doesn’t look away even though he’s been caught. If anything, his eyes darken as they trail over Lewis’s chest and abdomen. Even in the heat, Lewis’s body warms further under Seb’s appreciative gaze. 

“See something you like?” Lewis asks coyly as he walks over and climbs into Seb’s lap, straddling him. Lewis plucks the book from Seb’s hands and places it on the table next to the chair. 

“I suppose Miami is good for one thing so far,” Seb murmurs as he runs his hands over Lewis’s chest and abs. “I could get behind this weather if it means you never wear a shirt.” 

Lewis laughs and looks at Seb’s face, open and earnest. He’s grinning up at Lewis with a sparkle in his eyes. He’s also sweaty and his hair is disheveled from the humidity and traveling but he still looks so handsome. Lewis is so in love and he feels truly blessed. He leans down and kisses Seb, pouring his feelings into it. Seb’s beard has grown long again and it always tickles at first, causing Lewis to involuntarily smile into the kiss. 

Sebastian wraps his arms around Lewis’s waist, securing Lewis against him as they make out lazily. He idly slides a hand beneath the waistband of Lewis’s shorts and rests it there. Seb will always turn him on and Lewis is half hard already but the rest of his body is loosening and relaxing. He feels buoyant and drowsy, due to a combination of the heat and traveling and the feeling of Sebastian’s body against his own. 

As if Seb can sense how Lewis is feeling, he breaks the kiss and asks, “Do you want to fuck or take a nap?” 

“Nap first, then fuck.” Lewis slides off Seb onto the lounge chair and curls up into his side. Seb raises his arm so Lewis can tuck his face into the side of his chest and his armpit. He smells like sweat and deodorant. Lewis noses at the crook of Seb’s armpit, in the area where he knows Seb is a bit ticklish. 

Seb squirms and lets out a squeak of surprise. “I thought you were going to nap.”

Lewis hums in response and closes his eyes. He hears Seb reaching for his book and flipping it open as he drifts off to sleep. 

[theladyofdeath]

Life As We Know It {Chapter 6}

Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.

Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.

Instead of doing a tag list for this story, we have decided to have a set posting schedule. Chapters will be posted weekly on Mondays and Thursdays. Chapters will be posted on both my and Shelb’s blogs! >> @snelbz​

Life As We Know It Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

The week had passed by in a blur and by the time Saturday came, all Nesta wanted to do was sleep in. 

But she couldn’t.

Sleeping in wasn’t possible anymore. 

Her alarm had been set for seven, but she woke up with the sun peeking through her curtains at 6:45. She looked at the baby monitor on the nightstand. Nyx was still sound asleep in his crib.

With a groan, she covered her head with her pillow and tried to shut out the light, but it was no use. 

She was wide awake. 

May as well enjoy a cup of coffee before Nyx wakes up. Nesta tossed her legs over the side of the bed and tossed her robe over her pajama shorts and tank top. After pulling her long, golden-brown hair back, she was tiptoeing through the hall and down the stairs.

Once she reached the bottom of the stairs, she could hear noise coming from the kitchen.

The sizzling of bacon being dropped into a skillet.

She had expected it to be Cassian, of course, but what she wasn’t expecting was what he was wearing.

Or, she supposed, what he wasn’t wearing. 

She wasn’t sure if she should go back upstairs, to give him privacy. But he was the one who had chosen to come downstairs like this, in one of the common areas of the house, so Nesta went ahead and walked into the kitchen. She aimed straight for the coffee pot, grateful to see a fresh pot already in the carafe. “Good morning.”

He turned towards her, that broad, muscular chest on full display, thanks to the white towel wrapped around his hips being the only thing he had on. “Morning, Nes. Hope you want breakfast.”

She continued to make her coffee, which was usually easy, considering it was one spoonful of sugar in black coffee, but she was having a distinctly hard time focusing on what she was doing.

She had seen Cassian without a shirt in before, at the few times they’d both been over to swim in Feyre and Rhysand’s pool, but there was something distinctly different about seeing him wearing a pair of swimming trunks and that towel. That towel that was sitting so low on his hips, she knew there could be nothing underneath it.

He didn’t even seem to notice, didn’t even seem to think about her reaction to him standing nearly nude in the kitchen, making breakfast. His hair was still wet, although the ends seemed to be drying. 

She wondered if this is what he looked like in a towel, what he would look like in the shower.

She quickly shook the thought away, even though it couldn’t help but linger in the back of her mind.

“I’ve got eggs, bacon, and toast,” he said, his back to her. She watched his muscles expand as he moved pans around and turned off the burners. “Simple, but it’ll fill you up. We’ll need all the energy we can this morning.”

Nesta cleared her throat and gave him a nod as he turned to face her. It was true, and Nesta was unexcited about it. The two of them would spend their day trying to find a part-time nanny for Nyx for the days that the two of them were both at work at the same time.

They’d had plenty of applicants, some of whom seemed promising. 

Nesta had her fingers crossed.

A plate was set down in front of Nesta, and for a moment, all she could do was stare at it. There was a smiley face made out of a bacon mouth and egg-eyes. Another plate was set in the middle of the table, piled high with toast and jam. 

“What am I, two?” she asked, gesturing to the breakfast face in front of her.

Cassian chuckled. His plate was piled high with bacon and eggs. No room for faces. He sat across from her and leaned on the table with his elbows. “A little smiley face never hurt anybody.”

She said nothing, just picked up her fork and cut into the eggs. She hadn’t even told him she liked her eggs over-medium, but she was glad she did as the semi-runny yolk spilled out onto her plate. Nesta thought about starting something about it, about asking about food preferences before he assumed something, but it was too early and she hadn’t gotten to enjoy nearly enough of her cup of coffee. It was too early to fight. So instead she picked up a crispy piece of bacon and used it to pick up some of the egg, before popping it into her mouth.

Her eyes slipped closed and she tried not to moan.

How could a simple breakfast taste so damn good?

When she opened her eyes again, she assumed she hadn’t been completely successful in stopping her appreciative noises, because he was smirking at her as he brought his own coffee to his lips.

“Told you I make a mean breakfast,” he said, reaching for a piece of toast and slathering it in blackberry jam.

Clearing her throat, she ignored him and continued eating until her plate was completely empty. Just as she was about to get up to rinse it off, he stood, adjusting that damn towel to fit more snuggly around his hips, and picked up both of their plates. She tried her best not to watch the muscles shift in his back as he rinsed the plates and loaded them into the dishwasher. Tried her best, but found herself staring as she sipped from her coffee cup, but snapped herself out of it and got up as well, making Nyx a bottle for when he woke up.

As she shook the formula up, she asked, “Will you be putting clothes on before the applicants get here, or should I warn them this is going to be a clothes-optional interview?”

He glanced at her over a shoulder, as he began to clean the pan he’d cooked the bacon and eggs in, but turned right back to the sink. “Does my nakedness bother you, Nes?”

Damn him, she could hear the smirk in his voice.

“No,” she snapped. “And stop calling me that.”

“So, you like me in a towel, then?” he went on, turning the sink off as he put the final plate in the drain rack.

“You’re exhausting, you know that?” she asked, turning to face him full on.

He turned to her then, one brow raised as he ran a hand through his nearly-dried hair. “I’m just saying, if it bothers you, I’ll be sure to dress before I come down to slave away for you over the stove. But, if it doesn’t bother you, I have to admit that I like to completely dry before I put on clothes.”

No, it didn’t bother her.

No, she didn’t mind having her breakfast with a view.

No, she wouldn’t mind reaching out and feeling just how hard and defined his abs really were.

No, she would never admit to that.

Instead, she raised her chin and said, “I should wake Nyx up so he’s ready before the first applicant arrives.”

“So formal,” he grinned. “And here I thought we were having a nice, pleasant morning.”

A soft cry came from upstairs and she was immediately in motion, all thoughts of those abs and whether or not water from his shower would well in the defined divots of them gone. Snatching up the bottle she’d set on the counter, she turned and headed for the living room and the stairs beyond. “Put some clothes on,” was all

she called back to him as she hurried for Nyx’s nursery.

*

Nesta shut the front door, falling back against the wood, listening as the final interview made her way down the cobblestone walkway.

She sighed and made her way into the kitchen. She needed a glass of wine.

A bottle of wine was more like it, but a glass would do for now.

She found Cassian already standing behind a chair at the kitchen table, the resumes of each applicant spread out before him. “So,” she said, reaching into the fridge for the bottle of chilled, white wine. “What did you think?”

He blew out an equally exhausted breath, before shaking his head. “There was…a lot of variety.”

He was right. There was a woman who had to be in her seventies, who had brought an entire notebook of lesson plans, with her goal to have the one-year-old fluent in French before his third birthday. Then there was the thirteen-year-old who had lied about her age on the application, but promised she could ride her bike the mile and a half from her house every day they needed her. Just not until after three on school days.

“Too much variety,” she agreed. “That last woman was so boring she literally put Nyx to sleep.”

It was true. Nyx was currently sound asleep in the middle of his playmat in the living room, surrounded by his toys. 

“I didn’t mind the retired librarian,” Nesta said, filling her wine glass to the brim. 

Cassian scrunched his nose. “She smelled weird.”

Nesta scoffed. “I don’t think Nyx will be minding her smell. She was smart and was obviously good with him.”

“So was Viviane,” Cassian said, picking up an application off the table.

Nesta blinked. “Viviane?”

“Yeah, Viviane,” he said, showing her the application. “Smart. Bachelors in early childhood education. Lives three miles down the road.”

“Young, blonde, hot,” Nesta added, taking a drink.

Cassian raised an eyebrow. “So you do remember her.”

“I remember that she didn’t have near enough experience and she only listed one reference,” Nesta replied, taking the application and resume from him. She looked it over again. “She can’t be more than twenty-two years old.”

“What does her age have to do with it?” He asked, leaning down on the chair and looking at her. “She’s got good qualifications and Nyx loved her. She was one of the few he actually laughed and wanted to play with.”

It was true, he’d been extremely uncomfortable around most of the applicants. He cried the second a couple of them looked at him and had even spit up on one of them. But he had giggled with Viviane and genuinely seemed to like her.

“She hasn’t worked at a legit daycare or anything, but she’s been a one-on-one nanny before,” Cassian pointed out, as Nesta was reading the same thing on her copy of the resume. “And she said she could get us the numbers of her previous families. She just didn’t want to give them out without asking permission.” He smirked and crossed his arms over his chest. “Sounds like she’d respect our privacy, too. But go ahead, keep thinking of reasons she’s not a good candidate.”

Aside from her perky tits and ass, I can’t think of any. The words almost came from her lips, but Nesta ground her teeth.

“We have to agree on someone, and Viviane can start immediately,” Cassian continued. 

Nesta stared at him for a moment.

He stared back, watching as she sipped from her glass. “I swear to the Mother, Cassian, if you fuck the nanny-.”

Cassian barked an unamused laugh. “You think I have absolutely no self control, don’t you?”

“I think you’re basing this choice off of what you want, not what Nyx needs,” she said, not breaking their eye contact.

“She may be hot, but fucking her would be a lot more trouble than it’s worth,” he admitted. “And Nyx is half Rhys. Don’t forget that. He liked to appreciate pretty things just as much as I do, and I’m sure Nyx will, too.”

Scoffing, Nesta set her glass down and went into the living room to get Nyx. “He’s a baby, not a grown man, with raging hormones. You’re disgusting.” She picked him up, still fast asleep from hearing about the nuances of the differences in a sitter and nanny from the old crone they’d spoken with last. “Call Viviane, let her know she starts tomorrow at eight.”

Cassian met her on the stairs. “I don’t work tomorrow, I can watch him.”

Nesta shrugged, but continued up, carrying a drooling Nyx to his nursery. She hadn’t noticed how close to his nap time it had gotten. “Think of it as an exercise in self-control then, and a test run. See how she does with Nyx and see if you can keep your dick to yourself.”

“I’ve kept it from you pretty easily, haven’t I?” 

Nesta refrained from responding as she carried Nyx into the nursery and laid him down, cracking the door open behind her as she left. Walking back downstairs, she retrieved her wine, purposefully ignoring him, though she felt his eyes on her the whole time. She wouldn’t answer his question, was doing her best not to think about it, especially compounded with memories of him this morning.

She had no idea the muscles leading down by the hips could really be so defined. She thought the illustrious V that dragged your eye downwards on most male models was photoshopped in. Cassian, though, very much proved it not only existed, but that it was as distracting as she’d imagined it could be.

“I’m taking a bath,” she announced, heading back for the stairs. “Let Viviane know she got the job, but she can start whenever you want. If you’ll be off tomorrow, we don’t need to pay her to be here.”

She didn’t wait for his reply, and was in her room with the door shut a few seconds later. She took her time filling the bathtub with the things she found under the counter. There were oils and salts and bubbles and soaps, and by the time Nesta settled into the bubbly, warm water, the entire bathroom smelled like a spa. She sipped her wine, refusing to let her mind wander back to Cassian that morning, but by the time her glass was empty, her head was swimming and the water had begun to go cold.

She got out of the tub, watching as the water swirled down the drain and began toweling off.

And then, she had an idea, to give Cassian a taste of his own medicine.

She grabbed a clean, fluffy, white towel and wrapped it around her chest. And then she headed down to the kitchen for a refill.

Cassian was lying on the couch, one arm tossed behind his head, the other using the remote to flip through the stations on the TV.

He caught Nesta the moment her feet appeared at the top of the stairs.

Nesta’s heartbeat a little bit faster with every step she took.

“This is a new look for you,” Cassian said, simply, even though his voice had lowered an octave since the last conversation they had. “Especially considering you took the master bedroom so that you had your own private bathroom to avoid such run-ins with me.”

Nesta tossed her long, wet hair over her shoulder. “I figured it was okay since you’ve made it perfectly clear that you have no desire to crawl into bed with me. I deemed it safe territory.”

The glass still dangled between her fingers and she heard the couch creak as she turned the corner into the kitchen. She may have grabbed a towel that wasn’t quite as wide as the rest of them, one that didn’t quite come as far down her thighs. But if he wanted to prance around in nothing but his skin, she could do the same.

They were both adults. She had no interest in sleeping with him - so she told herself, at least - and he’d said he had no interest in her.

She poured what was left of the bottle in her glass and threw it into the trash with a clunk. She hadn’t realized she had so little left, but was fairly sure another bottle was in the wine cabinet.

Which was in the living room.

When she re-entered the living room, the volume on the TV was nearly silent and Cassian was sitting up, rather than laying down. One arm was draped across the back of the couch and the other still clutched the remote.

She could feel his eyes on her and she took another drink before reaching around the back of the cabinet for the key and unlocking it.

Not only did she grab another bottle of her favorite wine, but also a good bottle of whiskey, too.

“Planning on getting wasted?” He asked, quietly. 

“Just stocking up,” she replied, locking the cabinet behind her. “Care for a glass?”

Cassian looked around the room, as if she would be talking to anyone else other than her. “Sure.”

“Whiskey, I assume?” she asked, going back into the kitchen for another glass. 

The television was a little bit louder when she returned, but not by much.

She sat on the opposite end of the couch, and set the glasses on the coffee table in front of them. After retrieving the glass bottles, she poured.

Cassian remained perfectly quiet as she did so. 

“Is this a truce?” he asked, as Nesta held the glass out toward him.

“This is a celebratory drink to commemorate finding a nanny today,” Nesta said, although her voice held no warmth. “No matter how young and inexperienced and doomed-to-fail she is.”

She held up her wine glass.

Cassian snorted as he clinked his glass against hers.

She wasn’t paying any attention to whatever he had playing on the TV, and she had a feeling he didn’t either, not as she could feel his stare burning into her. Enough so that she crossed her legs, unintentionally causing the towel to raise even higher attention on the outside of her thigh. It almost exposed her entire hip, which she wasn’t anticipating, but she had made the decision to come down here, to tease him by showing him what he had done to her. She wouldn’t let him see how much his gaze was affecting her.

Even if it was just the wine.

Or so she told herself.

She was just about to stand, to make some excuse for going upstairs when he set his glass down on the coffee table and cleared his throat.

“New house rule. Clothes are required in the common areas. Kitchen, living room, dining room,” he said, ticking them off one by one. “Bedrooms and bathrooms are the only places where this is allowed.”

He gestured towards her, without looking, to make sure his point was understood.

“Why?” She asked innocently, and then she threw his own words back into his face. “Does my nakedness bother you, Cass?”

“Quite the opposite,” he admitted, adjusting himself.

Nesta pretended she didn’t notice.

“I thought you had no issue keeping yourself in check with me,” Nesta said, her voice low. “I thought you weren’t some untamed male with raging hormones.”

“I’m not,” he said, reaching to refill his glass. “At least, not until a beautiful woman is sitting a foot away from me, soaked, in a towel, pouring me whiskey.”

“I’m not soaked,” she said, without thinking it through. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

When Cassian looked at her, he grinned, but his eyes were dark. “I meant your hair.”

Nesta knew her plan had immediately backfired, either that or she’d had far too much to drink, so she simply nodded and stood heading back for the staircase.

“Nes?”

She turned back to look at him, halfway up the staircase.

He was smirking, that glass of whiskey resting on the arm of the couch. “If you ever do find yourself soaked, you know where to find me.”

She was up the stairs and slamming her door in a flash, trying to ignore his quiet laughter.

[katnissmellarkkk]

Hiiii, so I decided to continue my combing through the books for random specific Everlark related content series. This one is Katniss and Peeta taking care of each other. This is Part One and only includes stuff from the first book because it was getting too long. 😭😅. Anyways, hope y’all enjoy.

-

I gently unzip his jacket, unbutton his shirt and ease them off him. His undershirt is so plastered into his wounds I have to cut it away with my knife and drench him again to work it loose. He’s badly bruised with a long burn across his chest and four tracker jacker stings, if you count the one under his ear. But I feel a bit better. This much I can fix. I decide to take care of his upper body first, to alleviate some pain, before I tackle whatever damage Cato did to his leg.

-

Since treating his wounds seems pointless when he’s lying in what’s become a mud puddle, I manage to prop him up against a boulder. He sits there, uncomplaining, while I wash away all the traces of dirt from his hair and skin. His flesh is very pale in the sunlight and he no longer looks strong and stocky. I have to dig the stingers out of his tracker jacker lumps, which causes him to wince, but the minute I apply the leaves he sighs in relief. While he dries in the sun, I wash his filthy shirt and jacket and spread them over boulders. Then I apply the burn cream to his chest. This is when I notice how hot his skin is becoming. The layer of mud and the bottles of water have disguised the fact that he’s burning with fever. I dig through the first-aid kit I got from the boy from District 1 and find pills that reduce your temperature.

“Swallow these,” I tell him, and he obediently takes the medicine. “You must be hungry.”

“Not really. It’s funny, I haven’t been hungry for days,” says Peeta. In fact, when I offer him groosling, he wrinkles his nose at it and turns away. That’s when I know how sick he is.

“Peeta, we need to get some food in you,” I insist.

“It’ll just come right back up,” he says. The best I can do is to get him to eat a few bits of dried apple. “Thanks. I’m much better, really. Can I sleep now, Katniss?” he asks.

“Soon,” I promise. “I need to look at your leg first.” Trying to be as gentle as I can, I remove his boots, his socks, and then very slowly inch his pants off of him.

-

I scoot my square of plastic under him so I can wash down the rest of him. With each bottle I pour over him, the worse the wound looks. The rest of his lower body has fared pretty well, just one tracker jacker sting and a few small burns that I treat quickly. But the gash on his leg . . . what on earth can I do for that?

-

I know the tracker jacker leaves draw out infection, so I start with those. Within minutes of pressing the handful of chewed-up green stuff into the wound, pus begins running down the side of his leg.

-

“What next, Dr. Everdeen?” he asks.

“Maybe I’ll put some of the burn ointment on it. I think it helps with infection anyway. And wrap it up?” I say. I do and the whole thing seems a lot more manageable, covered in clean white cotton.

-

I help him dress, leaving his feet bare so we can walk in the water, and pull him upright. His face drains of color the moment he puts weight on his leg. “Come on. You can do this.”

But he can’t. Not for long anyway. We make it about fifty yards downstream, with him propped up by my shoulder, and I can tell he’s going to black out. I sit him on the bank, push his head between his knees, and pat his back awkwardly as I survey the area.

-

When Peeta’s able to stand, I half-guide, half-carry him up to the cave. Really, I’d like to look around for a better place, but this one will have to do because my ally is shot. Paper white, panting, and, even though it’s only just cooling off, he’s shivering.

I cover the floor of the cave with a layer of pine needles, unroll my sleeping bag, and tuck him into it. I get a couple of pills and some water into him when he’s not noticing, but he refuses to eat even the fruit. Then he just lies there, his eyes trained on my face as I build a sort of blind out of vines to conceal the mouth of the cave.

-

I check his forehead and find it burning and dry. I don’t know what to do. Leave him in the bag and hope the excessive heat breaks the fever? Take him out and hope the night air cools him off? I end up just dampening a strip of bandage and placing it on his forehead.

-

I spend the night half-sitting, half-lying next to Peeta, refreshing the bandage.

-

Peeta sits beside me, leaning against the wall, his bad leg stretched out before him, his eyes trained on the world outside. “Go to sleep,” he says softly. His hand brushes the loose strands of my hair off my forehead. Unlike the staged kisses and caresses so far, this gesture seems natural and comforting. I don’t want him to stop and he doesn’t. He’s still stroking my hair when I fall asleep.

-

I give him more fever pills and stand over him while he drinks first one, then a second quart of water. Then I tend to his minor wounds, the burns, the stings, which are showing improvement.

-

Peeta’s stretched out on top of the sleeping bag in the shade of the rocks. Although he brightens a bit when I come in, it’s clear he feels miserable. I put cool cloths on his head, but they warm up almost as soon as they touch his skin.

-

I sit back on my heels and look at him with a mixture of sadness and satisfaction. A stray berry stains his chin and I wipe it away. “Who can’t lie, Peeta?” I say, even though he can’t hear me.

-

I gingerly lift my hand to my head and find it bandaged. This simple gesture leaves me weak and dizzy. Peeta holds a bottle to my lips and I drink thirstily.

-

He doesn’t seem angry about my tricking him, drugging him, and running off to the feast. Maybe I’m just too beat-up and I’ll hear about it later when I’m stronger. But for the moment, he’s all gentleness.

-

“You need to eat. I’ll go hunting soon,” I say.

“Not too soon, all right?” he says. “You just let me take care of you for a while.”

-

Peeta feeds me bites of groosling and raisins and makes me drink plenty of water. He rubs some warmth back into my feet and wraps them in his jacket before tucking the sleeping bag back up around my chin.

-

Rain drips through several holes in the ceiling, but Peeta has built a sort of canopy over my head and upper body by wedging the square of plastic into the rocks above me.

-

“I think your wound is bleeding again. Come on, lie down, it’s bedtime anyway,” he says.

My socks are dry enough to wear now. I make Peeta put his jacket back on. The damp cold seems to cut right down to my bones, so he must be half frozen. I insist on taking the first watch, too, although neither of us think it’s likely anyone will come in this weather. But he won’t agree unless I’m in the bag, too, and I’m shivering so hard that it’s pointless to object. In stark contrast to two nights ago, when I felt Peeta was a million miles away, I’m struck by his immediacy now. As we settle in, he pulls my head down to use his arm as a pillow; the other rests protectively over me even when he goes to sleep. No one has held me like this in such a long time. Since my father died and I stopped trusting my mother, no one else’s arms have made me feel this safe.

-

I set a good dinner out, but halfway through Peeta begins to nod off. After days of inactivity, the hunt has taken its toll. I order him into the sleeping bag and set aside the rest of his food for when he wakes. He drops off immediately. I pull the sleeping bag up to his chin and kiss his forehead, not for the audience, but for me. Because I’m so grateful that he’s still here, not dead by the stream as I’d thought.

-

Although I’m shaking in the biting wind, I rip off my jacket, remove my shirt, and zip back into the jacket as swiftly as possible. That brief exposure sets my teeth chattering beyond control.

Peeta’s face is gray in the pale moonlight. I make him lie down before I probe his wound. Warm, slippery blood runs over my fingers. A bandage will not be enough. I’ve seen my mother tie a tourniquet a handful of times and try to replicate it. I cut free a sleeve from my shirt, wrap it twice around his leg just under his knee, and tie a half knot. I don’t have a stick, so I take my remaining arrow and insert it in the knot, twisting it as tightly as I dare. It’s risky business — Peeta may end up losing his leg — but when I weigh this against him losing his life, what alternative do I have? I bandage the wound in the rest of my shirt and lie down with him.

-

“Are you cold?” he asks. He unzips his jacket and I press against him as he fastens it around me. It’s a bit warmer, sharing our body heat inside my double layer of jackets, but the night is young. The temperature will continue to drop. Even now I can feel the Cornucopia, which burned so when I first climbed it, slowly turning to ice.

“Cato may win this thing yet,” I whisper to Peeta.

“Don’t you believe it,” he says, pulling up my hood, but he’s shaking harder than I am.

-

Somehow, we make it back to the lake. I scoop up a handful of the cold water for Peeta and bring a second to my lips.

-

The hovercraft materializes overhead and two ladders drop, only there’s no way I’m letting go of Peeta. I keep one arm around him as I help him up, and we each place a foot on the first rung of the ladder.

-

“It’s my fault,” I say. “Because I used that tourniquet.”

“Yes, it’s your fault I’m alive,” says Peeta.

“He’s right,” says Caesar. “He’d have bled to death for sure without it.”

I guess this is true, but I can’t help feeling upset about it to the extent that I’m afraid I might cry and then I remember everyone in the country is watching me so I just bury my face in Peeta’s shirt. It takes them a couple of minutes to coax me back out because it’s better in the shirt, where no one can see me, and when I do come out, Caesar backs off questioning me so I can recover.

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