#and it was either because sand mentioned them in the show or they just happened to be in a month i had no other ideas for

[khaotunq]

What I'm enjoying is the general Aussie reaction to my year of festivals gifset. There are at least 3 who've reacted with something to the effect of "TAMWORTH?"/"At least it's not Splendor." and that might not be a lot but it's killing me and I love it.

[peachesofteal]

What happens when this guy is mean to darling? Shutting her down? It could be something small.

Darling is getting excited bc she’s talking about some work trip she won and she gets to take her family, and she’s so excited to take the baby away and get some fresh air on a beach somewhere (Simon over hears and packs that away for later. Johnny doesn’t because he’s too busy eyeing this man down) just for dude to interrupt darling, “you can’t travel with an infant. You have to stay home, you’re a parent now. That’s your life” or some shit. Maybe even an “ah you’re a little loud right now, let’s take the volume down.”

Or maybe.. maybe it’s a jealous remark. “Taking your baby daddies too? Or wait..which one is the dad?” Dudes been noticing the tension and maybe he doesn’t handle it well.

either way.

You sink back into yourself a little.

It’s Johnny who cracks. Simon can’t get his hands on him fast enough before Johnny is shoving at this guy.

“Mind repeating that? You’re not gonna talk to her like that.”

Fight ensues. You send dude home because this is a family matter now.

And honestly? Simon has always been a pillar of strength and control. But Johnnys ability to act on emotion and instinct is what makes him such a good man. The man you fell in love with. He’s been struggling and hurt and missing you and how can you stay mad at him? Simon is a planner and has the patience but Johnny is more hot headed.

“When are you going to realize, we’re not going anywhere, darling, I am not going anywhere. You deserve to be treated like gold. And that guy? He ain’t it. He ain’t it because he ain’t me. Ain’t us.”

So darling and Johnny have it out. This confrontation has been needed for a while. Simon just watches, waiting to see if he has to step in. But oh Johnny.

He’d rip out his heart and lay it at your feet if you asked him. He hates this feeling. Hates not being with you and Simon together the way it should be.

His break down is what gets darling to crack a little bit. How can one deny the honesty in such a brazen display of emotion?

So a chance is offered. This little work vacation. Maybe… they can try and see how they’d function as a family. Together. Morning routines and night routines with baby. How they navigate it. If it doesn’t work? Then nope. But if it does?

Maybe their paradise could last forever then huh?

(My southern accent is coming out while writing this, xcuse me)

God yes. I love this. I could indulge in this scenario all day long.

Takes place after one of my favorite asks in the au'verse, here. (bartender anon come back to me)

18+ / disco baby au / mature themes

"Wait, you're taking Bee with you to this conference?" Your boyfriend blinks incredulously, like you hadn't already told him the same information, three times already. Twice last week. Once this week.

"Yes, I told you... the other day, remember?"

"No." He scoffs. "How are you going to manage a baby at a work conference?"

"It's a floor expo, so it's not like I'll be in lectures or anything. Bee will just come along in her carrier, and I'll get to show her the beach for the first time. I know it's going to be a lot but I've been preparing, getting her more used to the carrier and stuff. We’re really excited!" You were over the moon about it. You hadn't been to a beach in so long, and to be able to take your daughter for the first time had you brimming with excitement. You couldn't wait to put her feet in the ocean, let her feel sand. Provide her with all new experiences, watch her learn them and grow.

"And your boss is just okay with you taking your baby, on a work trip?" His voice pitches louder, and you inwardly wince when the conversation that's carrying on in the room slams to a stop.

"Well, yeah."

"You asked her?"

"Kind of, I mentioned that I was going to bring Bee along, and-"

He cuts you off with your name, sharp, and too loud, before sighing.

"You can be so stupid sometimes. You just... never think things through. All emotion and no logic. You really think you can handle that? A baby at a convention? You cry over getting stuck at red lights." The words sting, but they don't surprise you, and you’re about to snap back at him when there's a noise over your shoulder, the sound of your baby, followed by the grind of a deep Manchester accent.

"What's going on in here?" Fuck.

Simon's holding Bee, big hand supporting her back but she's sitting up, face tucked against his chest, thumb in her mouth. She's watching you, tired, waiting for the hand-off from dad to mum, and as it happens, Simon speaks again.

"Darling, take Bee onto the porch." He instructs, and no matter what you do, you can never fight your body and brain's instant willingness to do as he asks.

"Simon, I-"

"Please." He nods, big hand warm on his daughter's back, before it slides down to linger across your forearm. The touch is fleeting, barely there, but it feels like so much more.

You want to say no, want to tell him he doesn't need to get involved, that you're okay, when-

Johnny steps around the blockade that is Simon's body, and launches himself at your boyfriend.

Your shock stopgaps your throat, and then you screech.

"Johnny, stop!" Bee immediately starts crying, a high pitched scream that breaks down into tears. Adrenaline flushes your body, and you stare at him wordlessly. Johnny, who's been cold and distant. Johnny, who's been weird around you. Johnny, who struggles to even make eye contact with you sometimes now, is jumping your boyfriend. In your own house.

"Ye just call her stupid?" His fingers tighten around the shirt collar that’s clutched in his grasp, and your boyfriend sputters.

"Get off me, you fuckin' psycho!"

"I'll show ye psycho, ye piece of shite."

"Take Bee outside, right now." Simon commands, and you spin on your heel, slipping out the sliding door and onto the porch, bouncing your baby as you rock her, soothing her back to her sleepy self.

You ease Bee's bedroom door closed as quietly as you can, clinching it shut without stirring her, your only success in an evening that's gone horribly, awfully wrong.

Your phone buzzes in your back pocket, and you have no doubt it's your boyfriend again, seething with rage at being thrown out of your house after you insisted he leave so you could... address certain things.

Why did he say that? What caused that? What made him so upset with you? And what the fuck happened with Johnny?

Simon is sitting on your living room couch, thighs splayed wide, wider than necessary, if you're being honest, while Johnny paces with his arms crossed.

He's also seething mad, boiling with rage, with emotion, and you're not looking forward to any of the conversations you're going to have to now.

Life could have been a lot easier if you had fallen for only one guy, instead of two.

"Look-"

"No."

"Johnny, take a breath." Simon murmurs, and he does, letting it out in a long sigh before turning to face you fully.

"I am sorry, for the way I acted earlier. Ye didn't deserve that, Bee shouldn't have seen it."

"Well, she's a baby so let's hope she doesn't remember." you deadpan, and he frowns before continuing.

"But, I am not sorry for clocking that fuckin' bawbag, and I'd do it again for ye, do it as many times as I had to until ye realize the truth of things."

"Johnny-"

"I know I've been distant. I've been struggling, standoffish. I've been upset, I felt hurt that ye had our baby and never even called us, darling. Never even tried." Rage simmers in your blood.

"You fucking left me!" You snap, and he holds his hands up.

"We did. And I realize now, that my anger was misplaced. That I-"

"You gave me the cold shoulder, Johnny. You wouldn't even hold Bee at first."

"I know, I know. I was lost. And I should've realized earlier, how bloody stupid I was. How much of a fool I was bein'. I love ye, darling. I'm so, so sorry." He stares at you, eyes wide, and you look between him and Simon helplessly.

Simon just shrugs.

"You already know how I feel, 've told you a million times. You're it for me, for us. You and our baby. You're the only family we'll ever need, ever want. You know why we left, why we made the decisions we did. We can't go back and change it, but we can try to move forward."

"And-" Johnny jumps in, but his voice cracks, and you realize he's crying, hands mashed together as they shake. "I know ye don't want to let us in too much, because it's frightening. That we hurt you, that it doesn't matter why we did what we left. But we love you, darling. I love ye, so much. Just give us a chance, please."

"Let us come with you, on the trip." You laugh at Simon, immediately, but he looks at you with full seriousness. "You said it yourself, it will be a lot. Let us come, help with Bee. Spend some time together, see if it could work."

Could you? Would you?

No. They left you, remember? They dumped you. Why-

Your heart flutters and you can't help it, the wash of longing that swamps you. Johnny stares at you so earnestly, his emotions so raw, and it nags at you, reminds you of everything you had. Everything you lost.

What if you did try?

[thisismeracing]

How you get the girl | DR3

― Pairing: Daniel Ricciardo x black!plus size!reader ― Warning: mentions of food and alcohol; Mclaren Danny and tooth-rotting fluff. (1.5k words) ― Summary: Yn is tired of going on dates only to realize that the guy she thought was great, was actually terrible. So that’s why when her friend tells her she knows someone who would match perfectly, Yn accepts the blind date. It’s gonna be her last attempt at love, and now Daniel only has one date to prove he’s worth it. (based on this request)

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There are many ways in which one can fall in love. Yn didn't expect it to happen with her on the first date. To be fair, she didn’t expect it to happen to her at all. Being a plus-size black girl she learned to love herself, well aware that the way society portrays beauty wouldn’t always include her. Her shade, shape, and experiences. Which doesn’t mean she was not pretty. Quite the opposite, she knew she was stunning, and no validation was needed for that, yet you can miss it every once in a while. It rejoices your soul to hear how good you look and how smart you are.

But she left it on the second plan, focusing on her work and studies. Things were good, great even, however, her friends knew she deserved someone good. And as it happens, they knew exactly the pair for her.

Daniel was not looking for love either. He liked how things were going, and liked how he was able to focus in a different light this season, however, he missed it. Missed having someone to celebrate post-races with, to cuddle, and to hold him when he felt down. That’s why when Adam and Amina, two of his close friends from a tight group, proposed to set him up on a blind date he accepted. There wasn’t anything to lose, and he liked to follow his own bits of advice about enjoying being naive, enjoying the butterflies.

Even though it was a blind date, it was Danny who set up everything, with the help of his friends, of course. According to them, Yn would like a beach date. So that’s what he aimed for.

And it felt just right when she showed up wearing an orange summer set with a shy, yet bright smile on her face.

Yn didn’t know at the time, but she had just given a whole meaning to the orange color for him.

“You must be Amina’s friend, Daniel, right?” Yn asked, voice being carried by the wind and getting mixed with the sounds of waves crashing behind them.

Daniel nodded watching her curls bounce and her lips stretch in a small smile, “Yeah-Yeah, it’s me.”

“Yn,” they shook hands with a shy smile because even though Daniel was anything but shy, something about that date seemed new to him, like something he never experienced before.

“I hope you like the beach, and pizza. I wanted to go for something private and chill, Amina and Adam agreed, but still, I hope I got this right.”

She smiles, looks at the blanket on the sand, the pizza box, and the wine, then nods, “I love it. It’s exactly what I would go for had I been the one to choose the setting.”

“Really?” There’s a slight hint of disbelief mixed with amusement in his tone, and it makes Yn chuckle.

“Maaaaybe this would tie with a coffee shop date,” she confesses.

“We can do coffee shop for our second date,” Daniel is quick to shoot his shot and Yn arches her brow, she wants to smile again.

“What makes you think we’re having a second date?”

“I’m just manifesting, throwing it to the universe,” he jokes and she can’t help but laugh while they walk side by side to the blanket. “See? I made you laugh, my chances are getting higher, aren’t they?”

“It all depends on the pizza flavor, now.”

“Good thing I got one slice from each, then.”

“You kidding me?”

“No, and I got a whole one of your favorite flavor, well, according to Amina.”

Yn watches in disbelief and Danny sits by her side and sure enough, opens the two boxes of pizza showing her a pizza with different slices and a whole one of her favorite.

“Ok, and that’s how you get the girl. You might have landed a second date, Daniel.”

He smiles brightly and she can’t help but think that he now has a third one too.

“So, aside from having a great taste in pizza, what else should I know about you?” He asks while opening the wine bottle and Yn chews on a bit of food before starting to tell him about herself.

They go back and forth, there’s never the awkward silence, and they realize they have many things in common aside from the two friends that set them up. Yn has no idea he’s a driver and somehow it makes Daniel even more enamored by her. She seems to like him for who he is truly, and not because of a cool side of his that happens to make him famous and rich. It’s warm and fuzzy, and fun, and the symphony of waves crashing down and giggles envelop their afternoon until the sun starts to set and they decide to head home parting with a timid kiss in the corner of their lips.

It’s on the second date when she makes fun of his milk foam mustache and sips her own coffee mirroring his image that Daniel realizes he might be in love. Her dark skin is glowing, and the hair atop her head is like a halo, while she smiles at his camera with a funny face pointing at her mustache. Both unaware there are other people in the small coffee shop.

Daniel can only see Yn.

And Yn can only see Daniel.

At the end of that date, he takes her home and kisses her at her door. It’s soft and warm, and it feels right. It feels perfect. They fit together like two puzzle pieces. His heart racing under her hand, and her face stretching in a smile under his. He gets inside, and they talk and kiss a bit more before he has to leave.

It doesn’t take long for the third date to happen. Just two days, both counting the hours to see each other while frantically texting. It’s a drive-in theater, Yn’s idea. They watch a horror movie while Daniel gets scared by the jumps every time, making Yn laugh. They also share a popcorn pot, fingers shyly caressing the other whenever they touch by accident. When the movie ends and the credits are rolling around, the moon and the gleam from the big screen in front of them casting a distinctive glow on Yn, Daniel is sure he’s in love.

“Hey, so- I have this race next week, would you wanna go with me? I can fly you out on Saturday, or you can go with me and see how everything works from behind the scenes,” he suggests, fingers crossed in the dark praying for her to accept, praying for her not to think he’s being too fast. Maybe he was indeed, but this was all new to him too. He was fast on the track, he was never this fast outside it, never this fast to fall, to want someone, to seek someone, to show off someone. He wanted her by his side.

“Wouldn’t it be like making things official?” Yn asks genuinely curious and Daniel can tell by the way she bites her lips and one of her eyebrows goes up the slightest.

“Yeah, am I going too fast?”

“I mean, you’re a racing driver, I would say it’s your job to go fast, isn’t it?” She jokes and he laughs throwing his head on the headrest.

“Yes, but outside the track, I only wanna go fast like this for you.”

“That was so cheesy.”

“But did you like it?” He grins, and Yn rolls her eyes playfully before her body bends over the dash to capture his lips in a kiss.

“I loved it.”

And so a few days later Yn finds herself on a private plane meeting a bunch of different people and being introduced as his girlfriend, because sure enough, Daniel asked properly when he dropped her home that night. He got her a necklace and everything the next day. She learns that racing and the whole Formula 1 thing is more hectic than it seemed, but still, it’s fun. Amina and Adam watch the Sunday race with her, making fun of the way she can’t help but cheer loudly sometimes and bite her nails.

That was the Sunday Daniel got P1. The same Sunday he ran to her before the podium and kissed her lips in front of everyone, giving her his biggest smile and thanking her for being there, his lucky charm.

That was also the Sunday he said he loved her for the first time while they celebrated in private after the party. Laced in each other's love, gazing into the other’s eye, the certainty of the truth behind his statement.

Their friends were right, they were perfect for each other.

────── ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: Hi, honeybees! I hope you guys liked this piece! <3 I wanted to add a huge shout-out to C (my coffee emoji anon on Tumblr) for proofreading this (Ily, C!)

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[plantsjustwannahavefun]

I keep seeing so many people here getting angry that this season is "vilifying Ed", and it's depressingly fascinating to see how others can watch the same show and somehow see something completely different. Is it simply the lack of media literacy? Is it the inability to appreciate and enjoy complex, nuanced, morally grey characters without willfully blocking out anything even slightly unpalatable about them to the point where the character they think they love isn't really that character anymore?

Because, uh... Season 1 already "vilified" Ed plenty. Except "vilify" is the wrong word, of course. It wasn't in any way malicious or mean-spirited, quite the contrary, it was often played as comedic (until the end of episode 10 when it was anything but) - Ed was always meant to be a sympathetic character, he's a protagonist after all, and the show's portrayal of him is very compassionate. It merely refused to sugarcoat or shy away from his darker side. He's literally history's most famous pirate, you don't become one by being nice and treating everyone gently. He ambushed and strangled his own father to death when he was like 9 years old (100% deserved and justifiable ofc, but it still bears saying it out loud like this just to comprehend how unhinged this actually was). He loves torturing and maiming people for fun, and sometimes even animals (that scene with forcing a turtle to fight a crab). He didn't give a fuck about his crew members dying to satisfy his whim to meet Stede. He entirely failed in his role as a captain in ep 4. He effectively played a double agent with Izzy and Stede for a while before changing his mind. He attempted to murder Lucius. And while you could try to argue his punishment of Izzy was at least to some degree deserved, not only cutting Izzy's toe off but forcing him to eat went beyond punishment, it was sadistic torture.

So, yeah, please just read all that and take it in. And then remember once again that Ed is also a traumatised, lonely, depressed, sensitive, creative, curious, deeply passionate person yearning for true love and for something different in life... just like Stede. He loves music and can play the piano. He wrote a very vulnerable song and sand his heart out. He likes his tea with seven sugars. He enjoys fashion and dressing up. He has such a limitless sense of wonder for the world. He went on a trek with Stede just to make him happy, even though he hated nature and was in a shit mood that day. He wants to host a talent show. He wants to become free. He's clever and funny and fascinating. I love Ed.

Yes, it's possible to reconcile those two sides of him and accept both sides as the "real" Ed. You have to reconcile the two sides if you want to enjoy him as a character, because if you don't, you're going to either detest him to the core (which would make enjoying the show practically impossible since he's sort of a main character...), or you'll only be able to enjoy a diminished, crippled, cardboard cutout version of his character, which would be such a pity and a massive disservice to the creators of this show who worked hard to create interesting, multidimensional characters.

Not to mention you'd be missing one of the core messages of the show - the idea that people still deserve love and can be loved even if they're imperfect, or not necessarily good people. Because love is a human condition. It's not a sole dominion of "good" people. "Bad" people can fall in love too - even if, just like them, that love isn't exactly "nice" or "pure", and neither are the relationships that stem from it. They can be messy and exasperating. But "bad" people can also grow and change because of it. That's what OFMD is ultimately about - growth and change, learning to accept yourself but also become better. That can't happen if the character is already 100% perfect the way they are.Ed is far from that. So is Izzy. They can both become better, and they both still deserve compassion and understanding, because that's the environment people need to become better.

So, if you're mad that at the start of S2 the crew are sympathetic to Izzy's suffering and want to help him instead of kicking him when he's down, and what Ed did to him is being acknowledged as cruel and wrong... congratulations, you have completely missed what OFMD is all about.

[aki-shun]

I don't know if you will accept this but can I get an Male Idol Mc x Savanaclaw. Fans of savanaclaw members pay for a special fan service with him. And as services can I ask Mc to wear a skirt or a dress.

Umm- After getting my life and other things in order, I went back to tumblr and started writing. I don't know if it was because of this or the cold I had, but I had a hard time writing and I drew a few sketches to make up for it, I hope you like it.

I don't remember if the gender of Jack's siblings was mentioned, but it is implied that he has a little sister and a little brother. Anyway I hope you like it

TW: Eng is not my first language, Feminization(?) not smut, but a little bit spacy drawings ;), maybe not but really a bit spacy, reader is a male but just used 'you' so you can read to if your a female or anythink-,Written by a writer who forgot how to write

Leona

Shit-I signed his hand with the veins I drew most beautifully.

Leona is a wealthy individual. That's why he has all kinds of products, whether limited edition or not. What do other people think of him? Rest assured, no one wants to turn into sand. That's why everyone in the palace is silent about this. The two rooms that the Cheka are not allowed to enter belong to Leona. The first one is his room, the second one is the room he reserved specifically for you. Of course, he has your products in his room too, but he still has a separate room for more and some special pieces.

Most of your concerts are at Sunset Savanah. Because your manager likes the amount that self-indulgent Leona pays for the 'personal space' he reserves for himself at your concerts. (No, your manager is not Azul or Ruggie). Regardless of your special events or fan meetings, he pays a premium for his own private 'fan event' meetings, let alone attending them all. At the end of the work, your manager is as happy as Leona :)

And again, at such a time, you accepted the request of your dear fan, who provided nearly 40% of the money you earned, to wear a skirt. Dear Seven- he was looking at you with perfect admiration but also like a mouse he was about to grab in his claws. After a few seconds of silence, he approached you, lifted you into the air and held you in his arms. Since this was the nth date you had stopped counting, you were used to this kind of thing. In fact, you liked receiving such behavior from such a person, whether it was because of his perfect face, wealth or perfect body.

If you feel uncomfortable, just let me know. No, I'm not disturbed. You just surprise me more and more every time. Aah~ then it's because your pulse is excited huh~

His face moved a little closer to you with his smug grin. He definitely had a face that could make him famous. No matter how flirtatious Leona was, he was trying not to get over the Idol-Fan relationship. (And yes, he still made you sit on his lap but- who wouldn't want that). One of his naughty hands tugged at the waistband of your skirt.

Leona. Your voice had a slightly harsh tone. Hahaha I'm just kidding but you know this will happen one day. Nothing like this will happen between an Idol and a fan. Who said our relationship would be Idol-Fan when that time comes?

He leaned into your right ear and said, 'You won't be an Idol forever and I won't be just a fan forever.'

Some feelings begin to arise in your heart because you are experiencing a scene that only weird writers can write. Maybe you can attribute it to the long time you spent with Leona, but my option is the first option :)

Jack

His siblings were always listening to you and they were constantly pressuring his younger siblings to take them to your concert. Your tickets weren't expensive, but they weren't cheap either.

One day, his siblingss came to him in a hurry. They showed him the screen and it showed that his new concert was near where they lived. Since the tickets had just gone on sale, they were cheaper. (I've never been to a concert in my life, so I don't know much about ticket prices, sorry). Moreover, there was a fan event for the first 30 ticket buyers, and their siblings didn't want to miss it. So he bought the tickets.

He wasn't your listener before the day of the concert, but after the concert is over - now you have a new fan, but he doesn't accept it. When it came to event time, it wasn't a big deal. It was a simple thing where there was some sort of meeting and talking to the fans and stuff. It was him and his siblings' turn to talk, and they were babbling on about how much they loved you until that moment.

[Name]-san, my brother runs away from me whenever I try to make him wear a skirt. Because this thing was so girly. I don't want to wear those stupid skirts! No, you're the stupid one!!

Great, his siblings are fighting in front of a stranger (you). You stop them while the fight is about to get more heated.

Why do you want to force your brother to wear a skirt? Because when he tries to wear trousers, he cannot remove his tail properly. That's why I wear a skirt for his, because it's easier. I'm not a girl! Only girls wear skirts! [Name]-san, can you show my brother that it is easier to wear a skirt? Let me show him..? Yes, would you wear the tail you wore with a skirt like in your concert in the City of Flowers?

Okay, your shocked, but if you reject your fan's request, you may get a lot of criticism from your manager, who is looking at you suggestively through the door. (That manager works for us, my friend 🙂).

O-okey, of course.

Jack is a little further away, just waiting for his siblings to finish their work. There is no more!

WHY IS THE SKIRT SO SHORT? Damn that tail you use looks like his- YOU SHOULD NOT EVEN TRY TO SPIN AROUND THAT TAIL. He's happy that you're such a kind idol to give your siblings a nice farewell hug. NO, HIS TAIL IS NOT WAGING. IT'S JUST THE WIND. YES, DON'T YOU KNOW THAT THE WIND BLOWS EVEN IN A ROOM COVERED WITH WALLS ON FOUR SIDES!? NOW YOU KNOW!!

These were his thoughts :)

Ruggie

I couldn't draw a skirt in this pose and since I was too lazy to draw a new reference, imagine that there was a skirt in this picture (!)

He is a listener who listens to you with pleasure. But don't you think your tickets are too expensive? This makes his hyena heart ache. It just so happens that one of your tickets flies into his hand while he's walking on the street. No, it wasn't in anyone's back pocket. That ticket floated in the wind and fell into his palm :) Moreover, it was not such a simple ticket.

Ruggie is a fan like a fan. Just a more frugal version. That's why we should make the most of this ticket for all our fans. Even if they can't see it.

◜Time skip because I have a brain that can't function properly anymore due to the flu I had😔◞

He may have forgotten that people other than him have this ticket. But that won't stop him.

[Name]-san, could you wear a nice skirt for us fans? We'd love to see this.

Yes yes [Name]-san. We would like to see this.- a fan A cute skirt with ruffles would be really nice. What do you think [Name]-chan 😊-M Manager..! How long have you been here? *whispering 😃-M (Ugh, that look again. I definitely have to change that manager somehow [those who support the manager to stay, raise your hand✋])

Oh Big Seven! Can I take a photo of [Name]-san??-a another fan A great idea! Why don't we include some of these pictures in your new photo album?-M Manager- Come on [Name]-chan, give us some nice poses!-M This bitc- *Don't worry, no one heard it

Our beloved Ruggie now has new home screen images.

⫯ Since I did it in a bit of a hurry, the pictures are only for the white-skinned reader, but if requested (I will do it even if not), I will also edit the images for the dark-skinned reader. If anyone wants, I can tag them when I post. Just write in the comments whether you want to be tagged or not ^^

[syrena-del-mar]

Very Rarely Do Men Know How to Be Altogether Good or Altogether Wicked

The last five minutes of today's episode left my mouth gaping, it really felt like I was watching a catastrophic accident happen in front of me and I just couldn't look away.

I wasn't completely sure on how Sand was going to learn about Ray and Mew's history, but I sure wasn't expecting that Ray's feelings would be exposed in such a volatile way. Maybe I’m in the minority here, I’m not exactly sure because I’m seeing a mixed bag of reactions, but I don’t necessarily agree that Sand ever needed to find out about Ray’s feelings for Mew. Much less from Boston.

This is partially going to be a bit of a continuation of my thoughts that Boston has a Machiavellian personality, followed up with SandRay's relationship becoming the unsuspecting 'victim'. Again, I'll be using pulling from Machiavelli's The Prince, but I'm also using his work Discourses on Livy. [Title credit to ch. 27 of Discourses]

Boston, still the Machiavellian 'Prince'

“Another difficulty to be added to the one mentioned above is that a state that becomes free creates for itself enemies rather than friends.”

― Niccolò Machiavelli, Discourses on Livy

Let me be upfront, I don't hate Boston, I actually enjoy the chaos he brings, but he's a fascinating character to break down and really analyze his actions. The last five minutes was, in my opinion, the most chaos that he has caused out in the open. This was never a situation of Boston 'saying what needed to be said.' This was Boston seeing an opportunity to take control of someone and doing so by unfairly outing Ray's feelings. I, again, stand by the idea that Boston is not a narcissist, but rather a Machiavellian personality type. This doesn't make him a 'villain'; Only Friends does a good job at showing that there are no villains in real life, just incredibly shitty people. Boston is simply a dick, who chooses to play with his friends to feel a sense of control when he doesn't have it. Has he ever cared for his friends? Does he keep them around simply for convenience? Hard to say. That doesn't make him evil, it just makes him a first-class jackass.

In my post where I had stated that he was more of a Machiavellian rather than narcissist, I came to the conclusion that, 'In his viewpoint, he is the kingpin, even in his group of friends, because he believes that he's the one that controls how his friends move since he knows how Mew is developing feelings for Top and is aware of Ray's feelings for Mew.' This time around, he practically admits it right after purposefully revealing Ray's feelings for Mew, "I just want to keep track of my best friends' romantic moments.' Boston hoards information so that he can throw it in people's faces when it fits him the best, there's no 'good intentions' on his keeping tabs on his friends.

Boston knows that TopMew are going to sleep together, they're serious and he's out of the running. Is it simply ego or is it because of self-interest? Whatever the catalyst is, he essentially has nothing holding him back anymore. He's seeing his "friends" getting "serious", while he's out there dealing with known (and unknown) filming of one-night stands he had being used as revenge porn. That'd hurt and anger anyone, but from what has been shown, Boston thrives off of control and so having his sex life used against him would feel like an even bigger blow. They're minor events that are snowballing and Boston likely needs to feel that control again. It's why he pushes Nick down without a second thought when Nick is trying to pull him away (opposed to how Ray lets Sand pull him back). So he claims that control back, he deliberately reveals what he knows, purposefully taking Ray down with him. While he may be feeling like shit, at least he'll be better off than Ray, who's left to pick up the pieces.

Sand and Ray, the intentional destruction of the 'kingdom'

“In general you must either pamper people or destroy them; harm them just a little and they’ll hit back; harm them seriously and they won’t be able to. So if you’re going to do people harm, make sure you needn’t worry about their reaction.” ― Niccolò Machiavelli, The Prince

Yes, Sand and Ray are in a “situationship.” Yes, they’re constantly getting both physically and emotionally closer. Yes, Sand is developing feelings for Ray (arguably vice versa too). But that’s it. They started off as friends with benefits and while they’ve been shifting around, neither one has fully crossed that line. There was no defined area in the relationship, at least not before the implosion. They’re barely getting to know each other, Sand even calls Ray out because he knew that Ray had never noticed him before, not in a way other than just the Bar Performer.

Ray is working through who he is without Mew, without his crush on Mew. He's come to the realization that while he put Mew as his #1 for many years, he's knows he's not that for Mew, and is slowly coming to the realization that he may have never been. These are his feelings to work out and his alone. Sand and Ray are first and foremost friends, as they had agreed upon and they happen to hook up often. This was what they agreed upon. Even if one or both of them are catching feelings, it does not mean that Ray has an automatic obligation to come clean to Sand.

Arguably, Boston was unaware of this set up, but honestly he didn't need to know. This was not his business, Boston didn't suddenly spill the fact that Ray has had feelings for Mew for years to look out for Sand. No, this was an intentional hit on Ray, where he was positive that it would hurt. Boston has repeatedly used Ray's feelings for Mew for his own convenience (Exhibit A: Meddling at the pool party), whether it be to get Ray to react in a certain way or to have a punching bag. He knew how defensive and reactive Ray would get when he brought up RayMew's kiss and supposed sex (was this ever confirmed?) that they had.

Boston speaks in definite presumptions when he talks about others, he does this to Top and he did it to Ray. He spins realities to how he sees fit and with the confidence that he speaks in, he makes others believe him. It's why Mew never questioned that Top is accustomed to sleeping around and didn't think that Top really wanted anything more than sex, because that's what Boston specifically told him that Top was like. It's why now Sand believes that he has no hour in Ray's life, even when Ray gives him the opening to ask more, because Boston purposefully spoke in definite terms. Even the most secure person would be left feeling unsure and unbalanced.

So when Sand, who knows that their relationship is based on being friends with benefits, is confronted with words from Ray's supposed friend who explicitly states that Ray is in love with Mew and that he's being used as a rebound, what else can he do but believe that?

What little trust and rapport that they had started to build up has come crumbling down. They're frantically gathering the pieces of a 'kingdom' that has been turn into dust, the aftermath of the Prince's wrath. It's why Ray scrambles for the bottle and it's why Sand shuts down. How can they react to what Boston did, when they're struggling to salvage the little remnants left behind of what was supposed to be a blossoming relationship?

[theteasetwrites]

Begin Again

Chapter 1: Aux Portes de la Mort

❧ Media: The Walking Dead: Daryl Dixon ❧ Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female Reader ❧ Era: Season 1 ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: violence, blood & gore, scary situations, mentions of death ❧ Word Count: 7.6k

❧ In This Chapter: When you and Daryl awaken in an unknown land, far away from home, the world becomes twice as dangerous as it once was, with a whole new breed of dangers lurking around every corner. You have no choice but to begin again on a new mission: Get. Back. Home.

❧ A/N: IT'S HERE. I'm so excited to be writing for them again ugh it's been too long. I love this reader because she has all that history with Daryl from the first series so it's a real treat to keep all that in mind when I'm writing their scenes together. Also I am posting this before the premiere of the show. This chapter is based on the events of the sneak peek that was released on AMC+! So here ya go, the first chapter! Shoutout to Dahlia (@simpbyday) for helping me with the French translation for the title. She will be my official French language correspondent throughout this process. And if anyone else also knows French, I would love to get feedback on my usage of French throughout the series as well! <3

“Near death” did not mean much to you anymore.

You were either dead or alive, nothing in between. That’s how you felt about it now. There were few areas in life that were black and white to you, and that was one of them. If you were alive, you were alive. Maybe you’d be a little worse for wear, but you were alive. That was the important thing.

That’s what you told yourself, anyway. As a way to condition yourself, to be stronger. For Daryl. For Robin. For Wes. You had to be strong for them. Maybe that’s what got you into this mess. 

No, Daryl did. Daryl got you into this: tied loosely to the back of a lifeboat, one foot missing a boot and hanging off the edge, dangling pitifully in the ocean as the small vessel drew you closer to the shore. 

You might’ve stayed asleep if it weren’t for the splashing sound, followed by the familiar grunts and wheezes of gasping breath. You felt the rope across your hips pull in the other direction, where Daryl fought with the current to come back to the air. Through heavy eyes, crusted by a long sleep and sensitive to the bright light of what must’ve been mid-afternoon, you saw him struggle to lift the rope from his body as a wave pummeled him back down below the water. 

Your throat burning, rendering you unable to so much as cry out his name, you freed yourself from the rope, sliding into the water. What happened next would fade into the obscurity of rumbling waves carrying your weak bodies closer to shore, until the feeling of ground underfoot welcomed you. 

But that feeling was short-lived. As soon as your feet felt the sand, you were knocked down by another wave. Now you could only crawl, with what little strength you had left. Even Daryl, so very hearty and always physically stronger and more durable than yourself, began to stagger, falling less than gracefully to his knees just a few feet from you. There was no need for verbal recognition or even touch—you felt him there, crawling beside you, alive. 

Now with only your feet still clinging to the sea, your arms gave out underneath you, like two pieces of boiled spaghetti, limp and sprawled out not far from Daryl, who lied with his face pressed against the sand, his wet hair shrouding any semblance of his visage. 

Though you could hear his sharp breaths, his heavy pants that withdrew with high-pitched whimpers that sent a shiver down your spine, you could hardly tell if he was moving. 

Momentarily frozen, you gathered all your strength to extend your arm across the sand. Your fingers stretched out to the fullest extent, crawling like a spider until finally you gripped his hand, entwining your fingers with his and shaking it roughly, urging him to move.

You had been near death enough to know that the worst thing to do was to stop moving. That was like accepting death, and wherever you were now, you weren’t going to face it without him.

Your movement brought him to life as he lifted his head, his sight first taking in his surroundings—a beach.

And not far in the distance, a small blue bucket. 

You followed his gaze, which seemed transfixed on the object, partly buried by the wet sand that must’ve remained untouched for God only knows how long. 

Having a near encyclopedic understanding of Daryl’s mind, you knew what he was thinking of—survival. There was water in that bucket. Sandy ocean water, but water nevertheless.

All you could think of, though, was how familiar that little bucket was. Robin had one just like it. Last time you’d taken her and Wes to Oceanside, they played on the beach for hours, making sandcastles with her little bucket and shovel that she’d gotten for her seventh birthday last May. Somehow she’d convinced Daryl to let her bury him under the sand. You had the Polaroids to prove it somewhere in one of the pockets of your vest, if they hadn’t been lost to sea.

The memory faded quickly, as he pulled you up, still holding your hand. At least now he was moving, dragging you and himself towards the bucket.

He’d let go of your hand to pick it up, digging out as much sand as he could before handing it to you. Without a word, you brought the rim of the bucket to your lips, taking just a few sips, despite the painful drought in your throat.

Daryl took the rest, downing the sandy saltwater like it was the nectar of life, and here, at the gates of death, it was. 

When the water was gone, he let the pail fall back to its final resting place. You couldn’t bring yourself to even raise your head. You could only watch it fall, the bright blue plastic taking you back to a time that seemed so far away now, to a world you wished you’d never left. 

But Daryl, ever the pragmatist, always planning the next move, was already narrowing his eyes, looking around for the answer to that burning question that lingered between the two of you—where the hell are we? 

You could’ve looked at that little bucket forever, if he hadn’t tugged on your hand, not unlike how you’d done so to his just minutes ago. 

“C’mon.”

The further the two of you walked, slowly, limping, the more you began to take note of your surroundings, without too much thought of the complete and utter shit you two were both in. For all the differences between you, you both knew one thing was true—there was no point in dwelling on how you got here, the only thing that mattered was getting back home. That was the unspoken truth. 

As you walked further, the sand beneath your feet turned into concrete. Some kind of parking structure, or what once was. You passed the rotting, rusted shells of cars, their windows smashed and their hoods lifted, no doubt due to survivors looking for parts to salvage. A clump of neglected bicycles leaned against a graffitied pole. Like most graffiti, you couldn’t make out what it said. 

Passing a small overgrown boat, you spotted a signpost not too far away. You walked ahead of Daryl, all too eager to see what it said. The letters were faded, but you could make out the arrows, meaning it would point you in whatever direction you needed to go in. That was all you needed now: direction. Some delusionally hopeful part of you, deep down, wanted to believe the sign would display the word “HOME” with an arrow accompanying it, leading the way without confusion or ambiguity. 

But of course, you knew that was impossible. Still, you did not anticipate what you saw.

Squinting your tired eyes, your weakened legs slowed to a halt as the sign’s lettering came into view. Your heart sank as you stepped back, almost terrified of what you read. But you backed against Daryl’s chest, which caught you before you could lose your balance from the shock of the realization. 

You could not read the sign. 

Pla… place de… ste?

Port de… Martegues?

… Cimetiere?

Shit.

Some kind of port city, somewhere in France.

That’s what you decided upon, in the silence of your heavy thoughts as you walked together aimlessly, still not speaking. How could you speak to him? What was there to say? You had no hope now. It was gone, and usually, that was the only thing that kept you talking in times like these. 

And Daryl, he could go hours without speaking, if he had nothing to say. 

He, too, was at a loss for words. After all, he knew he’d gotten you into this. He knew none of this would’ve happened if he’d just… It didn’t matter now, though. What mattered was getting home.

But you weren’t safe here. 

You always knew that the whole world must’ve fallen, of course. When everything happened, the world went dark. France was no exception. The state of the place was proof enough. In this old city, with cobblestone streets littered in the abandoned remnants of a once prosperous civilization, every corner you turned was the same—empty, ruined, overgrown.

By some instinct, you both walked along a path just on the edge of a canal that seemed to run through the city. Perhaps it was just a gut feeling, or perhaps the both of you knew to stay close to the water, on the off chance that you’d find some kind of seafaring vessel. Though you still couldn’t shake the taste of saltwater, you knew that the only way you could get back home was to get back on the water. That was your priority.

Sure enough, you came upon a boat, moored at the edge of the path, floating upon the water, and looking as though it had been there for centuries.

Just outside the boat on the cobblestone path, it looked as though someone had set up camp, once upon a time. Whoever had been there, though, they were long gone. As you passed a desiccated corpse, completely barren of flesh with a long fisherman’s spear skewered through its head, you wondered if this body had once held the poor soul of the boat’s former occupant. You didn’t wonder for long, though, as these days, you’d seen enough dead bodies to almost completely desensitize you from any human curiosity. Now, it was just a bag of bones. 

Approaching the stern of the vessel, Daryl went into the cabin first, his sights set on the wine bottles perched on a wooden shelf, in the hopes that maybe they’d contain some water. He picked them up one by one, shaking them. Nothing at all. 

You busied yourself, rummaging through a bag you found hanging from a nail near the door. Your hand gripped on some long, cylindrical plastic, ribbed and seemingly filled with liquid. 

“Daryl.”

You held the water bottle out towards him as he turned around. You hadn’t caught a good glimpse of his face yet, until now. 

The skin of his face and neck were reddened terribly by the sun, but that didn’t worry you as much. It was the scarlet red cut stretching diagonally over his forehead, and the paleness of his lips, dry and dehydrated. The saltwater you both drank earlier only made the thirst more potent. 

Deciding he needed the water more than you, you pressed the bottle to his chest, despite his brief protest that he gave with only a knowing look on his face, as if to say: You drink first. 

You returned the look, but with more conviction as you shoved the bottle harder now, as if to say: No. Drink. 

Reluctantly, he did, drinking less than half before handing it back to you, with the same force you applied when giving it to him, and the same stern, protective look: Drink. 

You took the rest of the water, wincing at the aged taste. But you drank it down slowly, steadily, the cooling liquid coating your barren throat. 

Lost in the brief relief it gave you, you hadn’t noticed Daryl’s continued russling as he pillaged the tiny boat cabin, looking for anything and everything that could somehow be useful. 

As you used your long, torn sleeve to wipe away the dripping water from your chin, you were startled by the sudden sound of a man’s voice, not Daryl’s. 

With a flinch, you turned around to see Daryl, sitting at the small dining table, holding a tape recorder. 

“Nineteen months at sea,” said the man’s garbled voice, with an accent you deemed to be Irish. “Hoping to stay ahead of this thing.”

On the table before him was a map of Europe, and a photo of a family. There was a man that must’ve been the owner of the voice you listened to now. Beside him was a woman, his wife, Daryl assumed, because on her lap was a little girl, holding a large stuffed penguin, about half the size of her. She couldn’t have been older than Robin, he thought. 

They looked happy, all smiles. Somewhere in one of his pockets, he was sure he had a picture that looked almost exactly the same, only with his family—Robin, Wes, Dog, you. He quickly willed the thought away, though. If he kept thinking about it, he was sure he’d break down, when at this point, what he needed to be the most was strong. 

“Circled Spain,” the voice continued. “Nowhere safe… We’ll try Marseille next. Maybe the south of France is good… There’s got to be a safe place somewhere.”

You were sure you’d uttered that phrase once. Maybe around the same time he did. Just goes to show how much this world changes you, which was saying something—you always believed the world hadn’t changed you nearly as much as it changed everyone else. But you knew now that there was no safe place in this world, except in the arms of the ones you loved. And even then, that was only a metaphor. But you had to believe it, to convince yourself it was true. Otherwise, you were no different than the dead.

Night was closing in. There was no more time to waste. 

Still without hardly more than a one-word sentence exchanged between you, you got to work setting up a night’s worth of camp, while Daryl speared a fish in the canal. Just one was all the energy he had, but it was more than enough for the both of you. A white fish of decent size, which Daryl cooked over the makeshift barbecue near the boat. 

Sitting on the boat, you got a lantern working, providing just enough light to see what you were doing as you tried to filter the muddy canal water through the mesh lining of a jacket you’d found inside the boat. Across the way, you’d glimpse at Daryl, now draped in a tarp he’d fashioned into a poncho, in only the way Daryl could even think of doing. 

His tired face was illuminated by the fire over which he cooked the fish, turning it over with a small knife until it was cooked through. You wondered what on Earth was going on in his head, if he was as frightened as you were, if he had any hope left. 

You didn’t have much hope anymore. Not now. 

In this world, you’d found that your hope had been tested constantly, but only a handful of times did it try you like this. When the farm fell, when you lost the prison, when the Saviors took Daryl… 

But you always got it back. You always found your strength again. 

You weren’t sure if you could get it back this time.

Still, you had Daryl. If you were alone, in a strange place, thousands of miles from home, you were sure you would’ve given up by now. But he was here. 

The silence between you persisted into the night, as you sat across from each other, under the dark blanket of the night sky, eating the charred fish straight off the bone, with only the dim flickering light of the lantern just barely lighting your faces. 

When the silence became unbearable, Daryl had pulled the tape recorder from his pocket, playing it again, as if he found comfort in the man’s voice, despite the ultimate tragedy that must’ve occurred. 

“Sue had a heart attack.” You could only assume that was the name of his wife, the woman in the photograph. “I had to… take care of it.”

You’d heard stories like that before, of someone having to put down their loved one before or, God forbid, after they turned, but it would never cease to send a shiver down your spine. The thought of having to do that to Daryl… It was a nightmare you’d had more than once.

“Our tenth anniversary would’ve been in June… Holly keeps crying. She wants her mum back.”

That was when you stopped eating, a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. 

“She wants things the way they were.”

You swallowed hard in an attempt to suck down the lump forming in your throat. 

“She wants to go home.”

“Turn it off.”

The sudden sternness in your voice nearly surprised him, or maybe it was just how many words you spoke at once. 

He grabbed the recorder and turned it off with a sharp click, restoring the heavy silence that lingered like a thick fog between you. 

Daryl watched intently as you hugged your legs against your chest, your eyes downcast and glued to the worn and torn stuffed penguin, buried underneath some ropes and an empty old fuel tank. You recognized it from the photo. 

He could read the look on your face, and the thoughts that he knew were flying through your head at a thousand miles an hour. He knew that you were thinking about home, about your family. Still, he couldn’t shake this discomfort. This quiet. 

For all the years he’d known you, he’d never gone this long with such silence between the two of you. Of course, he’d been separated from you before for much longer, but together? You were hardly ever at a loss for words. He couldn’t remember the last time you were like this, but he didn’t like it. Funny, Daryl was always the quieter one, the one who more often than not needed to be coaxed into talking. He always preferred the quiet, but this was unbearable. 

He needed to hear your voice, now more than ever. He needed your hope.

“You haven’t said more than three words since we got here.”

Washed up here, your mind corrected. 

He leaned forward stiffly, still eying you, despite your gaze still transfixed on the once pristine stuffed animal. 

Several painful moments passed. Daryl couldn’t take it anymore. He’d beg for you to speak, to say anything to him. All he wanted was to hear you. 

“Please.” His voice was low, soft. It was always like that with you, but something about it now seemed more desperate. “Please say somethin’.”

Finally, you raised your head slowly, meeting his silvery blue eyes, visible through several loose strands of hair that framed his face. If you were in better spirits, you might’ve smiled, just seeing his face, despite how badly he was in need of a good shower. You were sure you looked rather filthy yourself.

But you couldn’t smile. You couldn’t even imagine such a thing. The last time you smiled seemed so far away, you could hardly even remember it. 

“What do you want me to say?” Your voice was shaky, hoarse, tired. He’d been with you through Hell and back, and back again, and yet he’d never heard your voice so defeated, so… lost.

“I don’t know,” he replied simply, still holding your gaze. Now, you both stared intently, as if battling to see who could dare to look away first. “I just…” As he trailed off, his eyes sank in defeat. He’d lost the battle. “I’m sorry.”

With a sniffle, you replied. “What are you sorry for?”

It took him several moments to speak, as he tried to compose himself. If he opened his mouth too soon, he might start crying, and despite how much you encouraged him to be vulnerable, to not neglect his emotions around you, he could never fully let himself cry in front of you without feeling that ingrained sense of failure and inadequacy, like he wasn’t the strong man you needed, no matter how many times you reminded him of how strong he was. 

“For gettin’ you into this.”

Your lip quivered, your eyes softened. 

He continued, “If I hadn’t asked you to go with me—”

“Then you’d be sitting here, across the world, alone, and I’d be in Alexandria worried sick about you.”

“But you’d be safe,” he said, an almost imperceptible shake in his voice as he was reminded of the danger you were now mired in, all thanks to him.

“How many times have I told you… I’m safest when I’m with you.”

That thought was nice, but it still could never completely alleviate Daryl’s worries. 

And there was another reason he wished he hadn’t asked you to come along. 

“But you’d be with the kids.”

Your eyes sank as though they were anchored to the floor of this decrepit old boat. He knew that would get you, you were sure. He knew that, besides him, you loved your children more than anything else, and being so far away from them, lost with no immediate hope of seeing them again, was crushing you.

A silence befell you, and Daryl felt like he lost you again. God, all he wanted was to hear you. Your voice was the most comfort he could have right now, just to know you were near.

Now Daryl looked down, focused on the mud caked around his brown boots. He raised his hands to his face as he huffed. 

“Shit,” he mumbled. “I’m sorry.”

You weren’t angry. Just sad.

With a sniffle, you looked back up. He still sat with his head in his hands, until he lifted his eyes above his fingers just enough to see you. 

“It’s okay,” you said, your voice a cracking whisper.

“Nah,” he said abruptly. “Nothin’s okay.”

Daryl always had that bad habit of blaming everything on himself. You knew it well. It frustrated you—his inability to give himself any credit and his tendency to dwell on his flaws instead of celebrating his accomplishments. Granted, one of the many traits you admired about your husband was his humility, but sometimes, you wished he would consider the things he’d done right instead of all the things he did wrong.

You raised yourself to your feet, crossing the boat to sit beside him. He did not look your way or pay you much attention, still lost in his thoughts. Still, you carefully, slowly, wrapped your arm around his waist and his shoulders, holding him. 

He was stiff, but under your touch, he slowly began to soften, as he always did. It was then he had realized how long it seemed he’d gone without your touch like this. You’d been with him the whole time, but survival did not allow for many moments of pure, gentle intimacy between two lovers.

“We’re alive,” you whispered. As you leaned against him, you pressed a small, but firm, kiss to his cheek. “We’re together.”

Without a word, he gave you a knowing glance. He narrowed his eyes almost suspiciously, while he chewed his bottom lip in deep thought. He didn’t need to say anything for you to know what he was thinking.

You smiled. “One of us has to be the positive one. We can’t get anything done if we’re both sitting around feeling sorry for ourselves.”

“Yeah… I know.”

“It’s shitty,” you said. “This is a shitty situation… Maybe the worst situation we’ve been in, but we’re going to get back home.” 

Though you spoke with conviction, you weren’t entirely sure that you really believed the words you spoke. It was hard to believe. It was hard to believe you were here in the first place. Nevertheless, you’d die trying to get back home, to see your children again, to watch them grow.

There was no way in Hell you were going to sit back and do nothing. 

To your relief, Daryl’s hand found yours, curling around it and squeezing it tight. He nodded, then raised your hand to his lips.

“Yeah. We will.”

You smiled as you roamed his face, finding comfort in the familiarity. In this world of uncertainty, this new world where neither of you belonged, you found safety in each other—you saw Alexandria in his face. All the memories. It was like a photo album, everything flashed before your eyes. You saw Robin, Wes, Aaron, Lydia, Maggie, Michonne, Rick… everyone. Everyone you loved, alive or dead, all in him. 

And in you, he felt the same, but not only that. He saw everything beautiful and pure in this world, everything worth protecting and keeping alive. As you held him, he held your face, his thumbs moving gently over the apples of your cheeks. 

Your face was worn, tired, with a few knicks and scratches scattered about over your usually smooth and unblemished skin, but nothing could distract from the perfection of your features that he knew and adored so well.

And you, you couldn’t help but eye that nasty cut on his forehead. You swept away the stray pieces of hair that obscured the cut, then huffed. Though you had already washed the cut with water, you were itching to find a real first aid kit to prevent infection. The one on the boat was cleaned out, and whatever first aid kit you had brought with you was in a bag lost at sea.

“S’fine,” he said, knowing full well what you were thinking. “M’fine.”

“It’s just… I don’t like it.”

He smiled. “I know.”

“We’ll find something to help it. If I could get my hands on some calendula or even some marshmallow…” 

That thought prompted you to look around, the darkness of the empty waterway in the desolate, ruined city. Even if you could find some herbs with healing properties here, you wouldn’t know where to start looking. 

The south of France wasn’t exactly the same as Virginia in terms of flora and fauna. 

“First thing we gotta find is a way back,” he replied.

“We could fix up this boat.” Daryl’s mechanic expertise started and stopped with cars and motorcycles, but you figured a boat couldn’t be much different. 

“Nah. Engine’s shot, and I dunno the first thing ‘bout how boats work, anyway.”

“Well… We’ll just have to find another way. There have to be people somewhere.” 

He looked at you with a raised eyebrow as he chewed the last of his fish. “You remember what happened the last time we asked a bunch of strangers for help?”

Ah, yes—the Commonwealth. 

At least that turned out in your favor, eventually. It took almost a year of turmoil, but in the end, it was worth it.

“Daryl, I don’t see any way out of this without some help. Besides, we haven’t seen any walkers yet… Maybe France is faring better?”

“Or maybe they’re all dead.”

“Stop it. That’s not true.” You held his cheek and turned his face towards you. “You know it’s not true… It can’t be.”

The rest of that night passed slowly, quietly. Maybe it was out of habit, or just his need to be aware of his and your surroundings at all times, but Daryl spent a good fifteen minutes checking out the general vicinity, scanning the perimeter around the little boat on which you busied yourself by fashioning a bed of sorts out of pieces of seats and blankets. 

Daryl returned not long after he left, with a curious trinket in his hands: a Barbie doll. 

You looked up at him from the makeshift bed. He took the liberty of posing the little blonde doll, sitting her atop the small dining table with her arm raised as if she were waving. Her hair was only slightly mangled, but you knew many tricks when it came to freshening up Barbie dolls and making them good as new for Robin, and sometimes Wes, to play with.  

“Only you could find a Barbie doll in France,” you said.

“It’s not just any Barbie doll,” he said, sitting himself down beside you with a huff. Gravity forced his body to the bed. Well, bed was a generous term for the dismantled chair covered with blankets. “It’s a veterinarian.”

You studied the doll closer from a distance. Indeed, she had a little white doctor’s coat and a pink stethoscope. You would’ve thought she was actually a doctor Barbie, but only a trained, professional eye like Daryl’s would spy the light pink paw print pattern on her lab coat. Thus, she was distinctly a veterinarian, to be sure. 

A smile spread across your face as you laid back, snuggling close to his side. He smelled faintly like fish, but you were certain that you didn’t smell so great either. 

“She’ll love it,” you whispered. There was no question who you could possibly be talking about. “I’ll keep it in my bag until we get home.”

Daryl couldn’t respond verbally. He could only chew his bottom lip as his arm snaked underneath your side and wrapped around to stroke your shoulder with his hand. Perhaps that was the ultimate reason he took the doll—as a way to further motivate both of you to live long enough to see your family again. And you would. He’d make sure of it. He knew it. He had to.

At length, you spoke again. 

“It’s clear?”

He nodded. “Yeah. No walkers, no people… No nothin’.”

That was good. If Daryl felt it was safe enough for the both of you to sleep tonight, that was a victory in your book. 

“Tomorrow,” you began, “we should start heading north, towards Paris.”

Daryl’s lip twitched into a slight smile as he began to close his eyes, still holding you. Sometimes, you hardly noticed he was holding you. A long time ago, it had become second nature, so habitual that him holding you in bed at night was a feeling you couldn’t quite sleep without. 

“Paris?”

“Yeah… There could be people there. Biggest city, biggest population.”

“Yeah, biggest population of walkers.”

You sighed. “Well, I don’t know then. You got any bright ideas, Einstein?”

He raised his eyebrow as he looked at you, with only one eye open, the other squeezed shut as his nose scrunched up and he made a faux scowl. It was almost enough to make you laugh. 

He chewed his bottom lip, deep in thought. “How about west?” he asked. “Least we can head that way first, see if we find anyone or anything. Best to stay as far away from the city as possible.”

“You're right,” you replied, resting your head upon his chest. Somehow, it was always much more comfortable than a pillow, despite its relative firmness. “You're always right.”

“Not always,” he said lowly, his fingers finding the ends of your hair and twirling around them as if by instinct.

“Yeah… Not always.”

“Pfft…”

“What?”

“Jus’... Can’t believe where we are right now.”

You nodded in agreement, but you could tell where this line of thinking was going—this negativity that sometimes clouded Daryl’s almost unwavering hope. That was where you came in, though your hope was in serious question, too.

“Well, you did promise you’d take me on a vacation.”

He scoffed again, but it was almost a laugh. Almost.

“France wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.”

“Me neither,” you said. A few beats of silence, then you added, “I would’ve preferred Italy.”

Three days had passed, all of which were spent hiking through ruins and desolate hills. Daryl used the long fishing spear from the boat as a kind of walking stick, and a weapon, along with whatever else he scavenged from Marseille. You’d found a few good knives, but nothing to quite balance out the slight limp you’d woken up with when you washed ashore. 

No encounters with walkers, you’d noted, though you’d seen some wandering in the distance, ambling aimlessly through deserted stretches of wilderness. At certain points, you feared you might’ve been walking at the same pace as the rotting corpses, but they were far enough, and none of them seemed as fast as some of the climbers you’d seen. 

Wilderness eventually faded into a somewhat industrialized town, much further away from the coast you’d started from. 

It was small, but a good place to stop off for the night, you’d hoped.

Wandering through the small alleyways, littered with debris and overgrown vegetation, you came upon a large building, something like a warehouse turned into what appeared to be a supermarket. At least, that’s what you gathered from the signage, despite its unknown language. 

Oh, how you wished you’d taken French instead of Spanish in high school now. 

Daryl entered first, quietly opening the creaking door. The general protocol when entering new, unknown buildings had always been the same: be quiet (silent if possible). Although, if there were any walkers in there, odds are, they could smell you before you’d even say a word.

Still, you felt Daryl’s hand tap your shoulder lightly. He signaled to you, signing the phrase, “Me left, you right,” as he mouthed the words. 

You always hated splitting up, but you signed back, “Be careful.”

Connie and Kelly would’ve been proud, you were sure. 

The two of you split up, Daryl searching the leftmost side of the building, you the right. 

As you examined the place, you took note of its state. It was abandoned, of course, but it was one of those places that had been left alone since the very beginning. It looked as though there had been a farmer’s market here, with long tables and booths with once meticulously laid out displays of crafts and homemade wares. Surely, whatever fresh produce had been here had long since deteriorated into nothingness, but there was always the chance of coming across dry foods. Grains and legumes and the like. Those were the ideals.

If fortune favored you, you could even find some dried herbs or medicinal plants to use on Daryl’s cut, but that was a longshot. 

Still, you kept a lookout, your mind, and your stomach, much more focused on finding food than on scoping the place out for walkers. From across the way, you heard a small thud that made you flinch. Your eyes followed the sound—Daryl had set down his bag rather carelessly. 

Eyes wide, you looked at him. He seemed entranced by a jar he was in the process of opening, only to smell its contents and put it back. Feeling your gaze on him, he looked up at you. 

“You OK?” he signed, mouthing the words.

You sighed quietly, recovering from the startle. “Yeah.” With much more emphasis, exacerbated by the firmness with which you moved your hands, you once again signed, “BE CAREFUL.”

“OK,” he signed back, his face bordering on slightly annoyed with your protectiveness.

But another thud quickly drew your attention, though this one was not from Daryl, who also turned to locate the source of the ruckus. 

You could only see a faint movement that was rather close to the ground, as though an animal was stirring, but as the familiar groans and wheezes started, you knew what it was. 

Much to your surprise, Daryl seemed stunned for a moment, standing rather still as he simply watched the walker crawl out from underneath a pile of rubbish. As for you, you gripped the handle of your knife, removing it from its holder on your belt. But you were much further from him, and where there was one walker, there were, more often not, much more.

Suddenly, more walkers seemed to awaken from their slumber. Sleepers, you’d grown to call them. In your fascination with the habits of walkers, you’d begun taking note of how they seemed to have their own mode of hibernation during times of inactivity. 

From what you could see, about eight or so of them had emerged from the far left, somewhere behind the produce stands, and were heading towards Daryl. You had the luckier draw, with only three or four setting their sights, and their gnashing, rotten teeth, on you. 

No need for signing anymore. Dinner was officially served, and tonight, fresh American meat was on the menu. 

“You got it?!” you called out to Daryl, raising your knife as the nearest walker limped towards you, its skull just barely clinging to the remainder of petrified flesh that hung loosely from its face. 

He hesitated for a moment, worrying you. Daryl seemed off his game when it came to fighting walkers. Perhaps it was because he was still frazzled by the strangeness of your situation, or perhaps, God forbid, he was more worse for wear than he wanted you to know. After all, Daryl did have a tendency to downplay his injuries or his illnesses, a habit which frustrated you perhaps beyond any other quirk he had, because this was the most dangerous to his health.

But you couldn’t think of that now. Not when there were walkers snapping at you, and even more at your husband.

“Yeah!” he finally called back as he got a grip on his spear. 

He set his focus on the first walker that had risen, which began slowly limping towards him. From behind him, though, was another walker, making quicker progress. He turned briefly, skewering the walker’s head with the sharpened point of the spear. He followed that with a kick to the walker’s abdomen, removing it quickly from the weapon.

On the other side of the place, you drove your knife into the nearest walker’s skull, but not without the usual splash of blood that came spurting out afterwards. 

This spurt, though, was no ordinary one. 

As you tugged the blade from its skull, you noticed a stinging sound, like that of a singe. It came as the blood spattered over the floor, and continued as it poured from the walker’s head. You stepped back, brows furrowed as you watched the trail of blood seem to evaporate, but it left behind a cloud of… smoke. 

In a way, it reminded you of a branding, how the hot iron had been embedded into your skin and eaten away at the flesh with a horrendous burn until an X was forever scarred into your back. Whatever was going on with that walker, if its blood had gotten anywhere near your skin, you were sure it would have a similar effect—an agonizing, flesh dissolving burn.

But you hadn’t any more time to think about the strange walker, as there was another one coming behind you. 

Meanwhile, had just skewered another walker through the face, then pulled the spear out to fling the walker backwards and tumbling back against another one.

Stepping backwards, just about to turn around and face another batch of walkers, one lunged forward, reaching its hand out to grip Daryl’s forearm, but this was not any ordinary death grip.

Most walkers’ touches were cold, lifeless, but this? This… searing, stinging, agonizing sharpness that made him scream.

With one last kill, you turned towards him, your eyes wide and your mouth agape with the fear of the most profound variety. Daryl never screamed like that. At least, not when you were around. Suddenly, every nightmare and intrusive thought of Daryl being bitten assaulted your mind all at once. 

All you could see was him struggling against a walker, whose grip on his forearm must’ve been so strong that even Daryl couldn’t immediately pry himself away. 

But the walker’s grip really wasn’t that strong. No, its hand was simply stuck, with Daryl’s burning, melting flesh acting as a kind of glue. 

As he tugged and yelled in frustrated pain, you quickly bounded across the room, taking down another walker on the way. 

The closer you got, the more you saw it—the small swirl of smoke emerging from Daryl’s flesh as the walker’s hand seared the flesh of his arm. 

Just before you could get to it, Daryl managed to rip himself free, stepping back a moment to briefly scowl at the strange burn. 

Immediately, you came forward, plunging your knife into the walker’s head. 

Daryl’s eyes flashed to meet yours, a simple exchange of breathless nods between you enough to suffice until the rest of the walkers were taken care of.

You looked around swiftly, and Daryl did the same. Six more walkers. Between the two of you, it would be light work. That is, if there were no more SNAFUs.

Daryl took the high ground, situating himself on a large wooden table to better approach the threat. 

You kept on the floor, using one hand to pull the walkers toward you, the other to strike with your knife. 

Once again, Daryl found himself with the unlucky situation. Underneath the table he’d taken defense at was another walker. 

Plunging the end of his spear through the wood, he successfully impaled the walker’s head, but not without his spear getting stuck.

He tugged on the spear with all his strength, but the thing wouldn’t budge—the spear was lodged too deep in the walker’s skull, causing it to bang on the underside of the table with each attempt to tug it back up. In perhaps a less serious setting, the image might’ve been quite comical. 

Daryl’s grunts combined with the repeated banging sound alerted you to the situation, and to the other walker coming closest to him. 

You quickly charged the walker, finally taking it out with a swift but jagged movement. Meanwhile, Daryl had just freed his spear, and now moved to kill two more walkers in his path. 

He was fast this time, killing them within hardly a second between each other. It was just enough time for him to turn around and see the very last walker coming towards you.

Without another second to even hesitate, you raised your knife, only for another one to fly into the side of the walker’s head, sending it falling to the ground at your feet. 

Sometimes, Daryl’s flying knives startled you more than the walkers. 

With a huff, you reached down, pulling the knife from the walker’s head. Just as you’d seen from the other one—a splash of burning, corrosive blood, a hissing sound as it hit the floor, and a small plume of smoke.

What the hell are you? you asked the corpse in your head. 

But that wasn’t important now. You quickly turned your attention to Daryl, who pulled up the sleeve of his poncho to reveal the raw flesh of his burn. 

Within a moment’s time, you were at his side, holding his arm as your eyes frantically took in the wound. In your confusion, and your fear, you looked up at him, all the color drained from your face. From what you knew of burns, this looked to be second degree, oozing redness and blisters already starting to form. 

“We’ll bandage it up,” you said, nodding to yourself, as if to reassure both him and you. “We’ll clean it first… Some water and—and if I find some aloe…”

He caught your gaze, holding it for a good several moments of heavy silence.

“You ever seen a walker do that?” he asked, knowing full well that the answer was no.

You turned to investigate the last walker you’d killed—on the surface, not unlike any other walker you’d seen before, except you supposed he had a certain… je ne sais quoi, if you will. 

“Maybe… it’s a French thing,” you replied. “I have no idea.”

Daryl let out a deep huff as he sat, still wincing at the unsightly burn on his arm.

You sat beside him, reaching into your satchel to procure a crinkly plastic bottle of water. 

“Don’t,” he said lowly. “You need to drink that.”

Ignoring him, you dabbed several drops of water onto the clean rag you’d taken from the boat in Marseille. With Daryl always getting hurt somehow, you knew it was a good find.

He hissed between his teeth as you lightly cleaned the wound as best you could, but it still seemed to ooze.

It worried you, to say the least. 

And Daryl… he only worried about what might happen to you if this thing was even more sinister than it looked.

“What if it’s—”

“It’s not,” you replied quickly. If you knew what he was going to say, you weren’t even going to let him speak the possibility into existence. “It’s not like a bite.”

“But what if it is.”

After all, what you knew of walkers was that their bites were deadly. What if their… burns were too? 

But you refused to believe that. 

“It’s not,” you said back. “We’ll patch it up. It’ll be fine.”

From the look on his face, he appeared not to believe that, his eyes clouded with fear and uncertainty the likes of which you’d almost never seen in him. Daryl didn’t fear death, though. He feared the thought of you being alone, in a world where the two of you needed each other more than anything. 

Again, here you were, trying to lift his spirits despite the possibility of death lingering all around you, in this French supermarket that reeked of death and rotten flesh. But you weren’t just reassuring him, you were reassuring yourself.

“Hey.” Your hands cupped his cheeks, forcing his gaze to face yours. Your eyes were soft, but firm enough to remind him that, just as he would never let anything happen to you, you would never let anything happen to him. Your voice barely above a whisper, you spoke to him with the gentleness he knew and loved so well. The gentleness he’d needed all his life, and would need until the day he died, and after that, too. “Sweetheart… We’re alive.”

That was enough. It would have to be enough. Enough to begin again.

~

Thanks for reading! Likes, reblogs, and comments of any kind are always appreciated!

Series Masterlist Next Chapter ➳

[autism-rizz-tournament]

Autism Rizz Tournament

Rizz: Originally short for "Charisma", Rizz (for this tournament, at least) refers to the appeal, charm or general "ability to pull" a character has, either romantically and/or sexually. (The character doesn't necessarily need to be attracted to anyone to have rizz. If they can make others fall for them, it counts)

How to vote

Propaganda

Triffany Lottablog (Bugsnax)

She uses a skeleton arm of her own species as a pointer during regular conversion She was so into archaeology she almost left her husband for it She's incredibly morbid, will occasionally just talk about how death comes for us all and odds are none of us will be remembered for long, then turns around and talks about ancient dance or matriarchy of ancient peoples She thought she found the skeleton of her grandmother, so she dug it up and gave it to the nearest evil scientist to do a genetics test, then gave the skeleton to them

At least two people are in love with her

Spock (Star Trek)

He is so autistic and Jim Kirk is in love with him for it (among a million other reasons Jim is in love with him)

Despite being extremely repressed, women love him, they keep wanting to get with him and he has to find creative ways to say "I'm actually gay and in love with my Captain" (just look at his mini monolog at the end of "This Side of Paradise"). He literally has to fuck every 7 years or he will DIE. In the show when that happened his wife divorced him and then he rolled around in the sand with his captain and it was very homoerotic. The subtext is text.

Marina (Splatoon)

While not canonically autistic, she does have a lot of autistic traits--she's rarely seen without her headphones (to the point where her ears aren't modeled in game), her tentacles constantly moving could be seen as stimming, and she has a very strong interest in machinery, to name a few. Marina also has a crush on her bandmate, Pearl. While it is never directly stated in-game, supplementary material basically confirms it. The Japanese version of the Splatoon database has described her as a "maiden in love," with the specific words used being in romantic contexts. Along with that, she has drawn a manga about Pearl, drawing flowers and hearts around her, and generally acts affectionate towards her in-game. It is unknown if Pearl reciprocates canonically, but she does have a very close relationship with Marina. She reciprocates Marina's hug at the end of Octo Expansion, and she is seen to be quite worried about her in the second trailer for Side Order. Pearl x Marina is a very popular ship in the fandom for these reasons.

is obsessed with heavy machinery, and is skilled in multiple forms of art (music, shoujo manga-style visual art, and stage design). she also notably chose team Order in the Chaos vs Order splatfest, and her dialogue in the announcement suggests she's resistant to change (though it could also just be interpreted as her being gay for her co-host)

people were so consistently horny for her while splatoon 2's splatfests were ongoing that it actually caused drama because her team typically had the popular vote and people chalked that up to participants voting based on their favorite hosts' opinion rather than their own. whether that's true or not is hard to prove, but the fact that it was plausible illustrates my point, and her popularity was even referenced in-game at one point. - she shows signs of having social anxiety in a lot of dialogue, and it even arguably extends into her visual design because of her consistently pouty eyebrows. - at one point a childhood friend of hers mentions a time she infodumped to nobody in particular about excavators for 2 hours straight, and then pearl says she regularly goes on for longer now. - she has skill in a ridiculous amount of art forms: music, stage design (for splatfest battles, not music performance), shoujo manga-style visual art, and even programming, game design, and 3d modeling. -the logo of the virtual-reality program she designed is an infinity symbol, which also shows up in a few other places throughout it.

[setevulpo]

theo raeken headcanons: chimera edition!

more theo content, this time dedicated to every part of him that doesn't fully align with humanity!

warning for the effects the doctors' experiments had on him, and for mentions of the experiments themselves. this is a long post.

divider by @/cafekitsune

since he was made by the doctors, he’s more animalistic than his supernatural counterparts. he leans a lot into the wolf and coyote parts of his being, mostly because of how young he was when he stopped being human.

contrary to his hybrid counterparts, chimeras don’t have the heterosis¹ factor going for them, and that includes theo. in fact, his health is worse than that of the average human, mostly because of his previous conditions.

most of his trouble as a chimera comes from the modified mercury he was injected with and how it interacts with the part of him that isn’t human. as in, he is affected by the mercury but not enough to die from it, and some of his abilities were stunted from it.

he isn’t actually immune to mountain ash, he just has a very minor reaction to it. this happens because he had the shapeshifter genome in him for most of his body’s development period and eventually started merging more with it than expected.

the reason theo didn’t reject the chimera transformation like the rest of the artificial chimeras is because of how young he was when the experiments started. on the other hand, the reason he wasn’t a suitable vessel for the beast of gévaudan was the fact that his chimerism is artificial², while mason was suitable because he was a natural chimera³.

theo was buried more than once for the experiments, and currently finds comfort in burying himself in either dirt or sand. 

he started seeing the dread doctors a year before they kidnapped him, and they took that time to get him used to their presence in his life and their actions. most of theo’s life was influenced by the doctors, and it takes him a long time to unlearn the things they taught him.

the only reason the doctors didn’t terminate him for his lack of progress in the first year was the fact he wasn’t actively dying. if he started showing any symptoms of failure before he made progress into becoming a chimera they would have gotten rid of him.

despite his healing ability, theo has a lot of scars, and only a small part of them are because of the dread doctors. most of his scars are actually from accidents when he was practicing jumps and whatnot (like when he jumped from the tree to meet stiles and liam? yeah he used to fall on his ass trying to land those).

his partial shift is less stable than the full shift, but theo still pushes for the partial because he feels it’s the norm for werewolves. he often shifts fully in his sleep, which used to leave him sore when he slept in the backseat of his car because his wolf form is too big for it.

on that note, his full shift is bigger than the average wolf⁴. theo is 200 cm (79 in) long and 91 cm (36 in) tall, which makes him closer to the size of a northwestern wolf than to the grey wolf most werewolves are similar to.

his first full shift happened when he was 13 and he bit the geneticist’s hand when she tried to catch him. after that the doctors started making sure there was a cage wherever they went.

even in his most human form, he has fangs, but not as long as they are in his partial or full shifts. they’re around the same sharpness though, and because of that his diet is very much meat-based, no matter what the meat is.

his hair has differently coloured spots that match the colour of his fur during a full shift. it also grows faster and thicker whenever the weather gets sufficiently cold, and he tends to spend his winters with longer hair than he has during the show.

he’s more sensitive to loud noises than the average shapeshifter, and prefers avoiding situations in which he might be exposed to them. that is, however, near impossible considering his living conditions.

that ties in with his previously mentioned liking for burying himself! not only does it remind him of when he was a child, but the earth around him makes the world feel quieter. it also relates to him being part werecoyote⁵ ⁶.

spends most of canon fighting the natural instinct to get away from werewolves. post-canon he ends up running away and meeting a coyote pack in belt, montana, and doesn’t return to beacon hills for nearly two decades.

play fighting is as common to theo as it is to full werecoyotes, especially during the time he lives with the belt pack.

he prefers sleeping during the day and working at night, not only as a way to avoid excessive sunlight (which is uncomfortable to him) but also to avoid as many humans as possible⁷. sleeping during the day helps keep his nightmares at bay too.

met a mountain lion shapeshifter once and discovered their species do not get along when they attacked him. he came out alive, but does his best to avoid territories they might live in⁸.

the doctors turned him into a werecoyote before adding the werewolf part, and the modified mercury had the chance to affect the coyote for longer. that is the reason his behaviour leans closer to that of a coyote rather than an actual werecoyote.while malia initially trusted him due to his werecoyote side, he didn’t feel the same towards her. despite not having lived in beacon hills for several years, he still considered it his home, and in extension his territory. he was not, and still isn’t, happy to have a werecoyote that isn’t part of his pack roaming around⁹ ¹⁰.

extra content notes!

heterosis, also called hybrid vigour, is the stronger physical condition that some hybrids show in nature, often making them more resistant than their single-species parents.

artificial chimerism is defined as any form of chimerism that happens intentionally, for example through blood transfusions or transplants.

natural chimerism is defined as any form of chimerism that happens unintentionally, for example through absorption of the mother’s cells or of a twin in the womb.

an average wolf measures between 105 and 160 cm (41 to 63 in) in length and 80 to 85 cm (31 to 33 in) in height.

coyotes use dens which are often underground. while it is only used during pup season (when they are born and approximately four months after), theo is not a simple coyote, and it translates into his behaviour.

despite denning being a female behaviour in coyotes, it is something theo does. that does not mean he is a woman, however, and it is a trait acquired from mercury exposure.

coyotes in their natural habitats are mostly crepuscular, but those living in urban areas tend to be more nocturnal. the purpose of that is theorized to be avoiding interactions with humans.

if their territories overlap, coyotes may compete with mountain lions for food. however, given the size of cougars compared to coyotes, the mountain lions usually win those disputes. sometimes it doesn’t even need to be for food, and cougars just kill coyotes for being in their territory.

most coyote packs only involve the nuclear family of a breeding pair (the alphas). there are rare cases in which already formed packs will accept an outsider into it, but more often than not lone coyotes only joins others when hunting.

coyotes are naturally territorial, and will defend their territory against other coyotes with however much aggression they find necessary.

[autumnwhistles]

New excerpt from my Last Life musical! This is from Song 12, Their Dubious Game. Leading up to this, Joel has become the first Red name and the server is ostracising him, as per the rules of the season – however, Scott finds this a little suspicious, recalling his time on 3rd Life where Red-Green alliances were prominent. For the first time he starts to doubt if the games are really what they seem.

Lyrics:

SCOTT: In spring, I dwelled, with my husband long ago We lived among the flowers, no thought for sand or snow… But then he fell to red That should have meant the end If the world truly matched the rulebook in our heads Yet still we stuck as one Our tie was not undone* And looking back, I can remember A fealty shades could not dismember Red, crimson, gold, all indifferent we stayed  The king did not turn from his kingdom, With sun and sands, the swindler remained What changed were the rules, not the game we all played…

*thank you @rurus-kadoo for helpful tweaks with this line!

Extra notes:

THIS IS NOT THE FINAL PRODUCT! I'm not sure I'm entirely happy with all of this so there will be tweaks made.

The voices at the start are a chorus of players singing the previous song, "Green, Crimson, Gold", and will have lyrics as well but they're not included here possibly because I haven't written them yet, so they will sound less messy. This is because the two songs take place at around the same time and I thought it would be a good way to show it + it sounds cool + it shows Scott's attitude to the game compared to various other players, who aren't defying anything and are completely following the rules the game has set.

There are some glitches in the audio, eg 0:42, but they're either in the voice parts which means they'll be fixed during the recording process, or in the parts, which I can fix with splicing in production.

I don't think you have to watch 3L to understand this (though it would probably enhance it and I really recommend it, it's still my favourite Life series) – it is mentioned a few times in the musical but only as "the spring", and not extensively. Everything important that happened in it in relation to this will be explained in said song, and the first song implies that there have been multiple games and that this one takes place in the autumn "red leaves to mark the colours of the first to fall", so hopefully it's not too hard to figure out what "in spring" refers to. I'm following a headcanon I saw during Last Life that 3L took place in spring and LL in autumn, which I really liked but can't remember the poster (help would be appreciated).

That being said feedback on the above point (whether it's clear to understand or not) would be appreciated!

Likewise what it means to be red, etc, will be explained earlier in the musical.

I have alluded to a slight headcanon of my own in that (especially Last Life!)Reds aren't made aggressive, untrustworthy etc just by being Red, it's because that's what everyone just perceives of them as well (I have around 100 words of a fic I started for this actually...).

And yep there's a reference to the first song here (the titles of "the king" – ren, and "the swindler" – scar, being used hehe)!

[autisticelation]

sampo is either an emanator of elation or aha themselves and ill be taking no criticism on that, will also talk about ahavilii

the most obvious hint to sampo being an emanator/aha are how his powers looks. the daggers he has, cut through the ground leaving faint void marks as if he was cutting through reality itself. void is a reoccuring theme in his animations in general, as it appears in his burst as well. sampo also appears to be able to teleport, as he did drag four people to the underworld at once, not to mention his constant reappearing back and forth. he also leaves no traces in the sand or the water.

another thing, is how he appears to end up on the luofu, following us same as Aha (their bells and giggled are heard in the Phantylia battle). Sampo had no need to follow us like that if he was just a regular masked fool, we benefitted his schemes and he should go on his marry way, especially since he really seems to care about Belobog, so be should stay and keep an eye on it. instead he flew/teleported all the way to us. but why would Aha be so interested in us anyway?

Aha cared about Akivilii (in their own way), they mourn them and seem to have an extensive history with the trailblaze path as well. Aha seems to care about us the most in the SU, so why wouldn’t they care about us so much in the real world? not to mention I also believe we’re Akivilii’s emanator (just an emanator, not a reincarnation as ive seen people say), which makes us even more connected to Aha.

and it shows.

Aha just doesn’t let serious harm come to us, as Sampo saves our asses for zero reason (do we really believe he would save us if we weren’t trailblazers?), flatters us as if we’ve known eachother for years even if he has nothing to gain WHILE we are being dicks to him. it mirrors Aha and Akivilii now that i think about it. Sampo fucks with us, we seem to despise him but at the end of the day we are drawn to eachother

also on that note;

schemes of elation seem to collerate with our trailblazing for some reason? which ties in with how Aha just doesn’t let us come to serious, mortal harm in any way. sparkle could easily kill us, like in real life, not just the dream (putting aside 2.3 knowledge), yet she helped us discover the deeper dreamscape. obviously because it was beneficiary to her, but after such a case happening twice it should start to raise some eyebrows.

also, Aha being with us during the Phantylia battle means they would propably step in if we were truly fucked, because i doubt they’d just watch us die, how would extinguishing one of the last sparks of Akivilii be entertaining?

also i think the next path we’re gonna get is either elation or hunt, since we arent getting eurudition or abundance (unless we want the luofu to shoot as down or smth). if not for the fact that 5* herta and march seem to be further in development than 5* sampo, i doubt we’re getting sampo lore soon :(( i bet theyre gonna try to finish ipc a little more before they divr into aeons

[flubnuggetpurple]

Dove Cameron’s Alchemical album is so fucking bat coded I feel like a conspiracy theorist.

(This went off the rails at one point, so WARNING: vague mentions of sexual assault and being drugged without consent)

First song: Lethal Woman.

Cass, all over, right? The bridge is “she walks like a saint, floats like an angel, sharp like a knife under the table”

c o m e o n

Second song: Still.

“Man on the screen, they only see whatever you want them to see” and “Supernova self-erasing, hourglass is always draining”

Could be either Tim or Bruce, but I lean toward Tim because of “how dare you, dare me to love you, if you jump I will too” because whenever Tim decides he loves someone, he’s the ride or die, ends of the earth type, even if they don’t even know who he is. A) how and why he became Robin in the first place, B) The Cloning Thing, C) an argument could be made for the Captain Boomerang thing (but now that I think of it, I think I’m mostly basing this off fanon oh well ontotgenextone).

Song Three: Breakfast.

I will admit out the gate that this one’s a reach, so I’m just going to leave Selina here.

Song Four: Sand.

For this I’m thinking Tim or Jason, for different reasons.

For Tim;

“I saw the end when we began, you couldn’t love the way I can, I tried to bargain with the stars, for more than half your heart but you have more pieces of me than the dessert has sand, and I have less pieces of you than I could hold in my hand” and “our love’s misaligned, ‘cause you’re on my mind every night, I stretch out the time, and now I know why.”

I’m just making it obvious I read the Red Robin run, aren’t I?

For Jason:

“What's worse, being wanted but not loved, or loved but not wanted? What's worse, hearing what you wanna hear, or hearing what's honest?” And “What hurts, is the one thing that you wanna do, is the one thing that you shouldn’t do”

Pre-death Jason, but like, right after the Garzonas thing.

Song five: White Glove.

Okay hear me out.

This is part one of the Dick Grayson saga; the persona he shows to the public. This is Richie Wayne. This is every honeypot mission he went on too young, every woman he’s had to seduce for information (it’s one hundred percent happened before don’t fight me) every source of sexual trauma (that one I’m ninety percent sure is canon) that keeps him up at night.

And this guy’s been a vigilante for over twenty years, he can absolutely recognize drugs by sight, smell, and how they feel when he’s too late to notice something slipped in his drink. He’s felt nearly every strain of fear toxin and every one of Ivy’s pollens. If anyone knows their drugs it’s pretty boy Richie Wayne and Robin.

Song six: God’s Game

This one I’m definitely taking some lines out of context, but for Jason, “Just a boy with a man's face, playin' God's game” is when he’s taking over Crime Alley, pit-mad and trigger happy. “I prepare with so much care, I was runnin', it was stunnin', I am desperate from delusions, not much of a solution, never knowin' what the truth is, oh, God” is when hid plans start to fall apart, when Bruce slits his throat with a batarang, when eventually the pit-madness eventually starts to wear off and he realizes what all he did to Tim, who was a child at the time, not to mention Robin.

He nearly became what the Joker was to him to the next Robin, and I feel like at some point that would occur to him.

Song seven: Boyfriend.

(…Admittedly, I don’t think this one has any grounding in canon and if it does, feel free to educate me.)

So, obviously I could mention Kate Kane at this point, but I know basically nothing about her, so instead I’m going to talk about Steph.

So Steph has definitely had some shitty experiences with guys, right? Like, her dad to begin with, but also the guy who got her pregnant (at like fourteen? Maybe I’m just sheltered, but I don’t think anything about that relationship was heathy—again, I haven’t read many of the comics, so correct me if I’m wrong), then Tim, which, I love him as a character, but didn’t he date her in the mask for like, months, and I have some vague recollections of some dickish things he said (i know i know i need to read more comics)—whatever. Men are shitty.

I have a scene in my head. Like, Steph’s in college, at a bar with friends or something, maybe it’s an under cover op, idk, and there’s this girl she’s been lowkey watching all night. She doesn’t quite know why, but she just keeps catching her eye, and okay, it’s not like she’s never questioned her sexuality, she knows Cass. There have been Extensive conversations with Babs on the subject.

Anyway, so at some point, there’s obviously some sort of argument between the girl and the guy she came with and the girl’s crying, and Steph just Can’t Handle That.

She goes up to her, comforts her, makes a new friend, listens to the whole story.

And at some point, she has the thought.

“I could be a better boyfriend than him.”

She doesn’t necessarily do anything about it that night, but now that she’s had the thought, it won’t leave her alone.

Yeah. So. Maybe I’ll write that story later.

Song eight (last song): FRAGILE THINGS.

Dick Grayson part two; So your mentor (dad) just died, leaving you an angry murder child, another one hanging on by a thread after losing eighty percent of his support system, a grieving butler (grandfather), and a mantle the size of the Most Dangerous City in America. Any direction you move is going to hurt someone, and one kid is more likely to snap and murder people than the other, and hey, if you have to be Batman anyway, might as well let your brilliant kid brother be Nightwing, right? Except, whoops, you forgot to mention that last part and now Timmy thinks you just replaced him without telling him and fuck you knew you were forgetting something and now there’s a goddamned imposter Bruce and—

“Love is like a house of fragile things, where hearts can be broken as easy as antiques, and now there’s glass all shattered at my feet, what we built together, you left in smithereens.”

Anyway. This got kind of incoherent (or maybe it was from the start?)

I accidentally added a poll at the bottom and can’t figure out how to remove it, so.

[dragons-and-magic]

More question time, lol!

Other than James, is there any other hybrid dragons?

How do dragons react to lemon? (LOL)

What’s Emily’s origin?

Other than villain dragons and humans, are there anymore rivals or villains they face against like wolves?

Is Henry gentle to the forest animals and acts like a Father Nature type?

Is there any dragons that loves the beach or the coastal region?

OH MY GOSH. I'M ABOUT TO DROP SO MUCH LORE. THIS WAS MY EXACT REACTION WHILE MAKING THIS.👇 I AM UNHINGED. :D

Anyone reading this, you're gonna want to pull up a seat! This is gonna be long! Lol!

Other than James, is there any other hybrid dragons?: I would say yes. But they are very far and few between. At first. Let me explain a few things! So, in the golden days of dragons, there were many species. And they were all sorted into different classes. Titan, Standard, Dwarf, and Fey. (And there's Leviathan Class, but it's too big to show here.) In addition, they are subclasses like Seadragons, Serpents, Wyverns, Drakes, (Normal) Dragons, Fey Dragons, and Longs (Eastern Dragons). They sometimes also are sorted if they had any kind of magical abilities. And each of these would almost always mate only within their own species.

But then something happened. Humans got even smarter and started using tougher and more deadly weapons. Slowly dragon numbers began to dwindle and dragons began to migrate out of their usual habitats and into other species. These dragons started to find mates from other species in the areas they wandered to. Sometimes it was simply a matter of their species just dying out. Or the smaller territories crossing over. Either way, Hybrids were the results. They weren't super common at first. But by the time this AU's version of Journey Beyond Sodor comes around, they're WAY more common. In fact, Hurricane is a cross between a Titan Class (Gordon's Class) and a Standard Class (Thomas's Class)! EDIT: I forgot to mention! For this same reason, clans made up of multiple species also started to occur. Before, Dragon Clans were usually made up of only one species. But after families got separated and almost whole species killed off by humans, dragons began to bond with others outside their kind. Found family baby! :D

2. How do dragons react to lemon?: Weeeeeeeell...

That's a definite NOPE from Thomas.🤣 Yeah, I don't like they would like them much. Lol!

3. What’s Emily’s origin?: Okay, so here's the thing. She is literally NESSIE. Aka The Loch Ness Monster!

Well, she's what started the legend anyway. Albeit accidental. Lol. Here's the story. Emily is chilling in her Loch one day, minding her own business. She had just gotten up, so she isn't really paying attention to her surroundings. A camera flashes. Emily freezes and looks toward the shore. Two very nervous photographers are standing there. She panics and dives back down! But, she's a bit too late. Because, blurry as it is, that photo is enough to start a whole monster hunting craze. Suddenly the Loch is swimming with boats and flashing cameras, and Emily's whole clan has to relocate! And that's how she ended up on Sodor.😂

4. Other than villain dragons and humans, are there anymore rivals or villains they face against like wolves?: Do ghosts count? Sailor John is a pirate ghost in this story! But he disguises himself as a normal hooman. He has to find his old treasure chest, so he can become mortal again and rain terror across the seas again! Also, there's a few dangerous monsters and such. Trolls, Rock Monsters, Sand Worms, etc. (Beresford the crane is a bridge troll in this!) Sodor is actually part of an archipelago called The Golden Isles. So there's plenty of habitats for monsters to dwell. As for wolves, that's not such a bad idea! Perhaps something like Wargs could exist. They're the giant evil wolves from Lord Of The Rings. Something like that maybe.

5. Is Henry gentle to the forest animals and acts like a Father Nature type?: Absolutely! He loves the animals! And knows a lot about them! Because he's closer to animals than the others, he doesn't like to partake in hunting. And he has a more vegetarian diet.

Of course, most dragons are predators, and need food to survive. And of course, if there was too many prey animals, the ecosystem would be unbalanced. So there has been a compromise made. Any animal located within fifty feet of Henry's den, (Located under the Wishing Tree!) is safe from hunting. Also, one more cool fact about him is he has plant magic! He can grow plants, and has something called Root Connection. He can basically telepathically sync up with the trees communication signals and find out what's going on anywhere in the forest! His horns and eyes get all glowy and everything!

6. Is there any dragons that loves the beach or the coastal region?: Definitely! There's three whole clans that live by the beach! Salty's clan is on the Southern Coast of the island. And you know Salty loves the ocean! His clan is made up of himself, Porter, Cranky, and eventually Big Mickey and Carly. Cranky is a big Leviathan Class Seadragon as you can see. Porter and Salty can ride him.

And then there's Belle's Clan! (This AU's version of the Sodor search and rescue team!) They live on the northern coast and watch out for incoming dragons and ships! They're like the watch men of the island! They live on a sea mount called The Roost! Her clan is made up of Flynn, Harold, Captain, Butch, and Rocky. Don't have designs for them yet. Sorry.😅 (Flynn x Belle is thing in this too!)

And then lastly, we have Duck's clan. And while they live more inland than the others, they are still located on the northern coast! Duck's clan has Donald, Douglas, Oliver, Skiff, Daisy, and Ryan!

I don't have concepts for everyone yet. But here's Ryan, Daisy, and Duck's prototype designs! (Oh, and Ryan x Daisy is a thing in this!❤️)

And that's everything! For now.😉

Thanks for sending in so many questions! I had a ton of fun making this!

[somethingaboutvampires]

Things about Fallout that I can't stop thinking about:

Alimony is brought up meaning Cooper divorced his wife after learning she suggested dropping the bomb. The bombs were dropped while his daughter was with him so either she knew and didn't care that her daughter would maybe die or was surprised by that timeline and panicked. Coop demands to know where his family is, so assuming he brings his daughter to safety / his exwife / a vault successfully then he and his dog aren't allowed in? And he's been searching for them for 200 years so he doesn't know which vault they were taken to but assumes they're still alive.

When Lucy is at vault 4, they were surprised that she was from a vault when she's clearly in that jumpsuit with those 33 pins on her collar. Like, there's one uniform. Wtf? And they gave Maximus an opportunity for a hot shower but didn't offer to wash Lucy's uniform? She didn't wash the blood off her uniform while there.

They clearly don't have doctors or teach medical skills in vaults 31,32,33 because when crazypants goes into labor she's just doing strangely. (Edit: there seems to be one person with a dr like feel and is there when she's in labor but, ya know, zero obgyns or major medical in a vault meant to propagate human kind is shocking but also typical).

How did vault 33 not know vault 32 was dead for two years? If the overseers did, then the wedding makes zero sense, the overseer would know those couldn't be from 32. If 31 brain roomba knew for two years that there was no communication from vault 32 why did that sit right with him?

Betty, new 33 overseer says she helped McLean bury his wife and i think that means she helped him bomb Shady Sands.

No one talks about how a (edited, thanks for the correction) fusion core can power an entire town but only one BOS suit. Like the gross misuse of resources for the army, now for the Technology Cult. If they dismembered the BOS suits, they could already have more equality of power generation but no one on the show brings that up? It's not cold fusion but it's definitely something.

So typical that the BOS suits had a major flaw that killed thousands of soldiers and they never fixed the flaw.

Anyone at all wanting to mention how Lucy wanted to blow up Moldaver and everyone in that area out of vengeance, but didn't. When that's exactly what her dad did to an entire town, so that blood lust and anger and irresponsible bombing is exactly what's learned in her do-good teachings. Her naivety is stark and blowing up everyone as a symbol is exactly that.

It's strange to me that the actor of Lucy stated that viewers see her character as the hero of the show, when I just see her as a pompous naive entitled person who doesn't listen to many people, thinks she's always right, and if she did take other people's advice about a land and people she's never met and had an ounce of humility, then half of the bad experiences wouldn't have happened to her. I see no hero in this show.

I see the "average viewer" as Coop/the ghoul and that's why so many people like him best.

[imabeautifulbutterfly]

Congratulations Mimi on your 700 followers 🥳🥳🥳🥳!!! THAT IS AMAZING!

For your prompts, would either of these spark your fancy?

"I've always dreamed of watching a sunset like this." For Cody!

And/or

"Where will you go now that the war is over?" For Wolffe!

💙

Ahhh my lovely! Thank you so much @ulchabhangorm for submitting such awesome requests.

I apologize for the delay, my keyboard decided to die on me yesterday, so I had to wait for the delivery today. I hope you love these two stories for you. I'll be posting them separately.

I hope you love them.

Love oo,

Sunset

Warning: sand, annoyance, friendly banter, slight flirting, guilt, seeking forgiveness, rumours, slight touching, voyeur, I think that's all the warnings. If I miss any please let me know.

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Whether it was the heat, the sand, or maybe it was the aches from old wounds you suffered throughout your less than glorious career as a salvager, but everything in your body was screaming at you to stop and making walking that much harder. Your feet felt as though they were being dragged through sand. You stopped walking and looked down at the sand surrounding your feet. Right. You were walking through sand, it felt like you’d been walking through it for a millennia, and you’d be beyond happy if you never see another rock, bramble, or desert, beach, anything containing sand for a long long time. 

God, how could there be so much sand, you shifted your clothes, feeling the little grains in between your clothes. 

“Don’t fall behind.”

You glanced up to look at Cody, glaring at your relatively new companion, “Does it look like I’m falling behind?” You asked exhausted, annoyed, and at the end of your tether.

“Yes. Hence why I said, don’t fall behind.” He chuckled as he started walking again, shaking his head. When he went awol from the Empire, the last thing he ever expected was to be found floating adrift, in the ship he had absconded with; and regardless of how much effort he put into fixing the derelict spacecraft nothing helped. The hyperdrive was damaged beyond repair, and if it hadn’t been for you showing up, trying to salvage what you could, he would’ve been dead now. For that alone he would be eternally grateful.

A sigh escaped your lips as you kept trudging behind him, “You know the only reason I’m here is because you owe me for saving your life, and you said you needed to find your friend, and once you found your friend you’d be able to pay me back. However, in all that fancy talk, not once did you mention anything about trudging through this gods-forsaken wasteland of a planet. Which is not my idea of you paying me back.”

He let out a laugh, as he stopped and turned to look at you, “Cyar’ika, you know I’m good for it. I promise, I will pay you back, and I will even try and help you find your brother.”

You let out another sigh of resignation, “Fine, whatever. I’ll choose to believe in you.”

“There’s the spirit.”

“Who are you looking for anyway? I mean I know you said a friend, but if your friend is all the way out in the recesses of human cohabitation maybe they don’t want to be found. Ever thought of that?”

Cody just hummed. Truth was that ever since he heard the rumour that Obi-wan might be alive, all he wanted, no, all he needed was to find out if that was true. He needed to know he hadn’t killed his General, the man he looked up to, the man who … opened his eyes to a world he never expected. 

“I have cyar’ika and honestly …” he stood on the ridge of the dune, the Jundland Wastes of Tatooine laying there before him, “it scares me to know that he might not want to see me. Things … didn’t end well between us, the last time we saw each other.”

You stood beside him as you looked out at the wasteland, “What happened?”

“I tried to kill him.”

Silence filled the air between the both of you, shock and surprise radiating off you, “Oh.”

“I wasn’t in my right mind … doesn’t excuse what I did, regardless.”

“So you’re … hoping for what? Forgiveness?”

“Maybe. Or maybe I’m just hoping that we can eventually make it back to just being friends. He was like a brother to me. Clones take brotherhood very seriously, and I betrayed his trust.”

“But you said you weren’t in your right mind.”

“Doesn’t change the fact I gave the order to fire.”

Your eyes took in Cody’s countenance, he looked apprehensive, his hands were balled into fists, his shoulder was squared off, everything about him screamed he was either getting ready to fight or he was scared. You slowly reached over and held his hand, moving his fingers away from the tightened fist. 

He glanced down as he felt your fingers loosening his, he couldn’t help smile as his eyes slowly met yours. It was a simple gesture, and that meant more to him than anything he’d ever experienced before. 

“If he is as good a friend as you say he was, and he viewed you as a brother too, it might take some time, but I’m sure he’ll forgive you eventually.”

“I hope you’re right, cyar’ika.”

You couldn’t help the smile that appeared on your lips, “You will have to tell me what that means eventually.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Mmm, yeah, you do. Especially if you want to keep flying in my ship,” you laughed, your smile slowly fading. “Is that why you didn’t want to fly the ship out here, afraid he’d hear the engines and go into hiding?”

“Yeah.”

You gave a slight nod in understanding, at least you were able to leave your ship with someone you trusted. If only your speeders actually lasted for the whole trip, your legs wouldn’t have been feeling like they were about to fall off. 

“What do you think? Camp for the night here, and then make our way into the labyrinth of the Jundland Wastes? Or should we just try and see what we can find before night falls?”

“No, let’s camp …” he pulled out his binocs and searched the area, he pointed to an elevated rock face, the ridge line looked flat enough, “that should work, and provide us with an unobstructed view.”

“Alright,” you nodded, “lead on.” You adjusted your pack, pulling your hand away from his, following him to the campsite.

It wasn’t long before you both had set up your camp, you were finishing up the stew you were making for dinner, when your eyes fell on Cody, sitting on the edge of the cliff, his feet dangling over the edge. You passed him a bowl as you sat beside him, “What are you thinking?”

Cody smiled as he looked at you, he reached up and gently wiped away some dust and dirt from your hike, “I’ve always dreamed of watching a sunset like this, but I never thought it would’ve been possible.” He focused back on the twin setting suns, “It’s beautiful.”

Your eyes simply focused on his face, and the smile he had on his lips, your heart clenched in your chest, your breath quickened, as you watched him enjoy his freedom, feeling so much in that moment. “Yeah, it is.” You whispered, focusing back on your stew, as you both sat in silence eating your dinner, as your knees touched.

Obi-wan watched the two of you from a distance, his thumb and forefinger stroking his beard. A small smile on his lips as he saw his Commander, his friend, his brother-in-arms, happy and not alone.

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[annestie]

Outcasted - Chapter 1

Summary: At sixteen, Neteyam has completed his iknimaya and is considered an adult. He's a warrior, finally allowed on the battlefield. The war is going well. Perfectly on the path for them to win once again, something Neteyam is excited to be there for. Until, he's outcasted by his own father.

Neteyam's forced pick up what is left of his life and leave. Never allowed to step foot into his home again, he goes to first place he thinks of. Awa'atlu. Hopeful that his past there will make settling and adjusting easier.

Pairing: Ao'nung x Neteyam

Word Count So Far: 2114

Notes: Hello! I've had this one in my drafts for a while and I finally figured I would post it. I always do my best to explain within the fic but this is an AU where the Sully's never left the forest and Quaritch hasn't been recommed. I just want this clear because it won't make sense within the fic if either of those have happened. It's kind of hard to mention something not happening. Anyways, enjoy!

Neteyam desperately holds onto his ikran’s reigns. He feels foolish for wanting to cry. This was for the best; he tries to reason with himself. But was it really? Does that matter now? It still stung to think about, so he doesn’t, instead focusing on the flight and the things his ikran is feeling. He’s sixteen and considered an adult, he shouldn’t be crying.

He lands on the beaches of Awa’atlu hours later. Neteyam had been here only twice before. He was with Jake, some training thing for when he became the Olo’eyktan. For when he would have become the Olo’eyktan, Neteyam reminds himself, not anymore. He held no future now, no clan even.

Stepping off his ikran, the warm sand feels the same as before. It was probably past midday now by the light still left in the sky. A crowd quickly forms around Neteyam, probably from the sound of the conch he heard earlier. The same had happened when he first visited.

Through the crowd the Olo’eyktan and Tsahìk step towards him. Despite it having been four years, they look the same. That could not be said about Neteyam though his resemblance to his mother is uncanny and he can tell they recognize him on that fact.

“Eldest son of Toruk Makto,” the Tsahìk speaks, her voice still the same. By the mention of his Jake's name, there’s murmurs around the crowd. “What are you doing here?” she asks pointedly at him. It’s unspoken but she’s asking why he’s here alone. Neteyam had never come alone. Even with his parents, he had only come twice before.

Neteyam signs the traditional greeting before he begins explaining. “I seek uturu,” he tells as he had rehearsed on the flight. He tries to show the desperation in his voice. Regardless of all the lessons his parents gave him to never show weakness, that’s all he feels right now. The Tsahìk’s and Olo’eyktan’s eyes widen

“Why do you need uturu from us? Would it not be better to stay with your family?” the Olo’eyktan questions him. That would be true if Neteyam were running from the humans, but he wasn’t running from them.

“I can’t go back,” Neteyam stresses. “I’ve been outcasted from my clan.” That still hurt to say even it is true. There’s the murmurs in the crowd again, how could he, Toruk Makto’s son, be outcasted. He thought the same thing too when it happened.

“Your body is not fit for the ocean,” the Tsahìk tells him but he can tell there’s sympathy in her eyes. “Your arms are thin, and your tail is skinny,” the Tsahìk names off. She could go on longer but mercifully stops at those.

“Please, I have nowhere else to go. I will learn your ways,” Neteyam promises and pleads. The next place he could think of going was at least a day’s trip away and, even then, he had worse chances with them. “I just want somewhere to stay, please.”

The Tsahìk’s gaze softens as she looks at him. Her face almost stoic besides her eyes.  She turns to the Olo’eyktan for his final judgement.

“You may stay but so that you do not suffer the shame of being useless, my son and daughter will help you learn the way of water.” The Olo’eyktan points to a boy about his height and a girl that’s Neteyam’s height. The boy’s name comes to Neteyam’s mind almost immediately. Ao’nung. They had met on Neteyam’s last visit and, surprisingly, became friends, fast.

Ao’nung looks different now. They used to be same height, Ao’nung definitely has half a head over him now. Tattoos also decorate his arms; they travel up to his face where they cover half of it.  If Neteyam remembers right, it means Ao’nung has completed his rite of passage. Which doesn’t surprise Neteyam much, it’s been four years. He wishes they could have seen each other under better circumstances.

“Thank you,” Neteyam says gratefully to both the Olo’eyktan and Tsahìk.

The Olo’eyktan’s mouth lifts slightly before looking at his children. He quickly whispers something to them and then walks away. The girl, Tsireya, Neteyam finally remembers her name, and Ao’nung come towards him.

“We will help you with your stuff to your marui,” Tsireya tells him with a smile. Neteyam had never actually met her before though Ao’nung had told him some things, years ago. She should be around Lo’ak’s age.

Neteyam quickly grabs his one bag from his ikran’s back. He slings it over his shoulder before taking off his ikran’s saddle, allowing her to travel into the forest of Awa’atlu. “I’ll see you soon,” he tells her before she leaves. He wouldn’t need her here, at least not while he adjusted to this new life. Ao’nung carries the saddle for him.

“Is that all?” Tsireya asks with surprise.

“This was all I could take before I had to leave,” Neteyam explains. It was barely anything. A few of his handmade necklaces, some loincloths, his bow, and dried meat he managed to grab before leaving. Besides those and the things he’s wearing, he has nothing from before.

“Oh, I see,” Tsireya says with pity in her voice. Neteyam isn’t fond of it. He hates feeling like he’s useless, but he is. He has no skills that matter in Awa’atlu.

Neteyam follows Tsireya across the bouncy paths that connected the maruis, those would take some time to get used to. Ao’nung walks beside him. Neteyam doesn’t mind it.

“Neteyam?” Ao’nung suddenly says. Neteyam turns to him confused. “Sorry, I remember your last visit,” he tells. It’s weird how mature Ao’nung’s acting, nothing like his twelve-year-old self.

“I remember you as well, Ao’nung,” Neteyam says with the best smile he can muster. He does want to smile but at the same time he wants to sit down and rest. Maybe let the tears fall from his eyes.

Once they arrive at Neteyam’s new marui, it’s empty besides a place to cook in the middle. It’s quiet and he can’t help the feeling of loneliness that creeps within him. If Tuk were here now, she would already be planning on how to decorate before choosing her sleeping corner and then somehow convincing Neteyam to sleep beside her.

Neteyam wonders how she’s doing now. It’s only been a day. She was crying when he left, refusing to let him go and trying to convince Jake to allow him to stay. But the choice had been made up and he couldn’t stay, no matter who pleaded.

“I hope this is alright, I imagine this is quite different to where you lived before,” Tsireya says, bringing Neteyam from his thoughts.

“Oh, this is fine,” Neteyam assures her. The marui itself is fine, he couldn’t care less about where he lived but he did worry for his siblings. The war is still raging and the fact that he’s been outcasted means he can’t help anymore, not even step foot in his old clan.

He wonders if Spider and Lo’ak are up to no good right now. They probably are, he tells himself. Would Jake be harder on them now that Neteyam wasn’t there to take the blame? He hopes not, even if that’s unlikely.

Neteyam drops his bag to ground and takes the saddle from Ao’nung from which it also ends up on the ground. “Thank you for your help,” he tells them both.

Tsireya smiles at him once again. “It’s no problem. I hope you settle in quickly.” Neteyam hopes so as well. She leaves the marui soon after, stating she had tsakarem duties to attend to.

Ao’nung stays behind for a little, lingering by the entrance. Neteyam watches him with confusion. “Is there anything else I need to attend to?” Neteyam asks as he steps towards Ao’nung.

Ao’nung shakes him head in response. “No, I just wanted to ask if it would be alright if I delivered you dinner tonight?” he asks.

The question catches Neteyam off guard. “Oh,” Neteyam blurts out. He doesn’t want to seem rude, but does he really seem that useless that he couldn’t hunt for himself? That thought truly cuts him deep, he really had no skills for the ocean.

“I’m sorry if I’m intruding, you’ve spent the day traveling and I figured… You know what? Forget it-”

“That would be appreciated,” Neteyam cuts him off. Ao’nung’s explanation relieves Neteyam a little. “I’m quite tired from my journey,” he admits. At least, Neteyam’s still on Ao’nung’s good side. 

“No problem. I’ll come around the eclipse.” Ao’nung turns away at this point.

“Ao’nung,” Neteyam calls out his name before he can start walking. The other turns his head to him. “It’s good seeing you again.”

“You too.”

Neteyam closes the curtains to the entrance of the marui just as Ao’nung leaves. The sun seeming too bright and the people too nosy. He could see every person that walked by sending him a look.

Taking in a deep breath of salty air, Neteyam leans against the wall before sliding down. He brings his knees close to his chest and wraps his arms around them. Then a tear falls from his eye and that spurs another and another. Before he knows it, he’s crying onto his knees.

He doesn’t make a sound. Neteyam can’t let anymore weakness show through.

Eventually, his tears soon dry. Neteyam remembers Jake’s words that crying was pointless and that action is better. That memory used to bring him courage, lift him when his spirits were down, now it’s only bitter to think about.

Neteyam lifts his head to look at the slightly darkened marui. The only light coming from the ceiling and small window. The place feels more like a house than a home. Dark and empty. His eyes drift towards his bag and the saddle tossed to the side.

All that he owns is now within this marui.

Neteyam does unpack. He finds a box in a corner of the marui that he uses to store his jewelry and clothing. At the bottom of the box, he puts him cumberband. It means nothing here anyways and would only slow him in the water. The sooner he could acclimate to this clan, the better.

He hangs his ikran’s saddle on the wall, not wanting it to stay on the ground even if he wouldn’t be using it much. Neteyam does the same for his bow and arrows though that’s more for easy access to them if he wants to hunt.

There’s just enough wood in the fire pit to start a new fire but Neteyam’s sure he would need to gather more in the morning.

Before long, there’s a knock that the entrance. Neteyam pulls open the curtain to reveal Ao’nung standing there with two plates in his hands.

“I hope you don’t mind if I eat with you.”

Neteyam doesn’t. It would be nice to think about something else for a change. For the past few hours, all he could think about was his siblings. He could use a distraction.

They sit to eat in silence. However, Neteyam doesn’t mind it, it’s nice to simply just be in another’s company after everything.

Neteyam looks over his plate. The plate has a slice of fish, some seaweed thing that’s slimy, and clams. He immediately smiles upon seeing the clams. “I remember eating these when I visited,” Neteyam comments.

“They don’t serve them often and I know you liked them before, so I grabbed some extra,” Ao’nung tells him.

Neteyam lets out a small laugh, the first time he’s laughed since he left. “You remembered.”

“It’s hard to forget you.”

They don’t speak much more than that. Neteyam likes it, he couldn’t imagine trying to keep up with an entire conversation. Ao’nung’s presence seems like enough. They could catch up another time.

Once they’re done, Neteyam walks Ao’nung to the entrance. Neteyam smiles as he hands Ao’nung the plate. Ao’nung takes it, his eyes lingering on Neteyam’s arms. Neteyam looks down to see the cuts and scrapes he had gotten when he left, he had almost forgotten about them, they seemed so insignificant compared to everything else.

He was in such a rush, he simply flew through the trees, not thinking. He got pretty scratched up by the branches. Most of the cuts had healed through the day, but definitely looked worse than they actually were and wouldn’t be very nice in the sea water.

Ao’nung swallows, looking away from Neteyam’s arms. “Dinner is always held when the eclipse starts, and I’ll show you where tomorrow. I’ll come in the morning, early, to get you for your lessons. Have a good night.”

“You as well.”

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