#but he said and did some awful things while he was grieving too much to think straight and didn't have his family to ground him anymore

[zosonils]

an aspect of shadow's trauma that i've been thinking about a lot since the sa2 replay is how fucked his perspective of gerald must be after everything, especially assuming he was family to shadow just as much as maria was [which i do every day]. the man who raised you, created you from nothing but tissue samples and energy and hope, the man who could have easily decided you were a simple thing to be used and yet welcomed you into his family as easily as his own granddaughter, who treated you as a person when so many others treated you as a lab rat or a weapon or another soon-to-be-failed prototype, in a moment of unfathomable despair, decided you were to be a tool that would carry out his final plan. perhaps treating you this way was another symptom of his mental breakdown, perhaps deep down he's always seen you as nothing more than a thing to reach his goals with. you will never know, because he is dead. every comforting memory you have of him, every time he encouraged your curiosity or stayed with you during a test he could have observed from afar or told you how proud of you he was, forever tainted by the thought that it could have all been a lie. a variable in an experiment, a means to an end. how would you ever trust anyone ever again man i'm in shreds

[celestialaviva]

I'm curious, what relationships headcanons do you have for the Alan Becker characters?

For example, what is the relationship between the Hollow Heads/Color Gang? Or do you have any ships?

Sorry if I'm annoying, I'm just really curious!

You're alright!

To be honest with you, I mostly consume AvA/M content than create my own headcanons ^^;;;

That is to say, I don't think too hard about mine? They just. Float around, and come up whenever I draw something and I just go, "Ah yes. That is them."

I don't ship anyone and mostly see the CG as best friends who live together like a family. Not totally siblings but just. Just found family? It's very hard to describe but here's some duos:

Orange and Green - I see them as creative rivals. Also kinda see them as the responsible ones of the group- even though I actually headcanon Orange to be younger than the four, he just has responsible one vibes lmao. They're said to be close since they're the first to make contact with each other, and I imagine Green was at first responsible (sort of) for Orange for a little while in the beginning until Orange became confident and comfortable enough around the group. I feel Orange interacts with Green the most in the group because of this.

Green and Blue - They hang around each other a lot, and that kinda makes me think that they always did even before meeting Orange. Minus Orange, they seem to be the ones with eyes for detail in the group, so they likely bond over that too sometimes. They look after each other often, checking in on each other. Green's impatience and Blue's pacifism clash sometimes, but they almost always seem to be on board with each other's ideas.

Green and Yellow - They like to one up each other especially in competitions. I feel they annoy each other the most and are spiteful of each other. But, I can see them just having each other's backs anyhow. Chill when chill, unless either one of them disturbs the peace, yknow for fun. They are both mischievous for sure.

Yellow and Blue - I love this duo in canon! Even in the very early episodes, I've always loved that they seem close. Blue often being the emotional one and Yellow often being the one trying to comfort them. I don't know man, I see them as soft towards each other? But not afraid to mess with each other either.

Red and Yellow - Prankster duo. They enable each other's curiosity and terrible ideas. Though, I do think Yellow wouldn't always be on board. It's funny to me Yellow is more cautious while Red just goes straight into situations so Yellow unfortunately has to deal with that.

Red and Blue - I don't see them often together but I always find them so wholesome. They compete over little things, push each other playfully, and awe over cute animals. They're just. They wholesome

CG and Purple - I love the idea of Red and Green being the friendliest towards Purple. I mean, that's true in canon too, with Green especially. Blue and Purple would bond over plants. Yellow and Purple would bond over code, and be competitive with each other as well. With Orange, Im not sure? They're okay with each other I guess?

CG and Mango - Neutral, Im guessing. They're forgiving of a grieving old man/lh but would certainly not forget about the entirety of s3. Now whether or not Mango and Purple live together, I honestly do not know. I do like to think Purple is welcome to stay in Mango's home but they just go elsewhere often, whether to stay in minecraft or do some temporary job.

For the Hollowheads:

Chosen and Dark - They were best friends, and then fell out due to a misunderstanding. I don't really want to believe Dark is truly dead, but Chosen would unfortunately believe that. Angst™. Tbh I actually don't have much for them unless canon tells me more, so this is all I have.

Chosen and Orange - Siblings. I've always liked the idea Orange looks up to Chosen, and I guess Chosen would kinda be uncomfortable with that. And then AvA 6 ep 1 happened, so now Orange knows Chosen is a dork. A very caring older sibling dork. Who kidnapped and endangered him- but still.

I unfortunately have nothing for Victim. (Canon and Fanon)

This is messy, and I apologize profusely

[janeicethesiren]

Hot take: The Woobification of Sebastian and O!Ciel-How Beauty Clouds Judgement

Hey guys, it’s me again and I can’t sleep. I have another hot take to share! Once again, please don’t take this too seriously, I’m just talking.

So, I just want to start off by saying that I totally get it. I mean it! We’ve been following these characters for years and we’ve gotten so invested in there stories and we can’t help but want them to win, you know? It’s human nature to want to root for the underdog in some ways. And, O!Ciel kinda fits the mold of underdog when you consider his backstory.

But, and this is my opinion, Ciel and Sebastian are NOT the underdogs. And I can’t help but think that if they both weren’t so pretty, you’d see a lot less people excusing their behavior or rooting for them.

I should also stress that I’m not talking about the people who look at these characters through a complex lense, I’m more so talking about people who are insistent that O!Ciel and Sebastian are good people/not evil.

Like I said, I get it and I empathize with the kid, but the kid is a BASTARD. He has progressively become an awful, awful person and that’s the POINT. And I can’t help but find it boring when people try to strip that away from him.

People feel bad for O!Ciel because he’s been through a lot, which yeah he definitely has. And people are mad at R!Ciel for standing against him and at Lizzy for turning on him, at least for now.

And, again, I kinda get it because we’ve been with O!Ciel for so long and it’s natural to root for him. But, O!Ciel is not the good guy! Lol what’s happening right now is that he’s currently being forced to face the consequences of his own actions. Which, let’s be honest, he wasn’t expecting to ever have to do because of his personal countdown death clock, Sebastian.

I can understand why he told those lies, especially at the beginning. But there’s no excuse for them anymore. He should have BEEN told everyone the truth. Would it have been easy? Of course not. But it would’ve been the right thing to do. While it’s understandable why he did what he did, he still took away his family’s ability to grieve and R!Ciel’s ability to rest, at least in my opinion.

Also, I think it’s important to note that, after a point, O!Ciel started to ENJOY being Ciel. So much so that he’s willing to fight the real Ciel for his own name. Which is absurd when you think about it!

His family absolutely ain’t shit for not only not noticing the difference, but also not doing anything to step in and really be there for that boy. But again, that’s part of the point of what Yana is trying to say in that upperclass Victorian society is/and was depraved, shallow, and mostly evil.

O!Ciel may have been thinking of the others when he made his initial decision but the decision was still selfish. I think that it’s ok to say that; while yes, he suffered from heavy survivors guilt and truly thought that his family would prefer for R!Ciel to come back (and unfortunately he wasn’t wrong), he still, if only subconsciously, wanted the power, prestige, and access that R!Ciel’s name carried.

He LIKES being Ciel now and loathes his old name and position. He LIKES the power, the access, the maneuverability, hurting people when they get in his way, killing those who wronged him, the security of Sebastian’s presence, the ability to make his dream come true (made a lot easier with Ciel’s name), the dark mind games he plays with people. ALL OF IT. He loves it and that’s the POINT.

And Sebastian is a demon. Yes we all know that, that’s not news. However, I still feel like we give the man (entity, whatever) too much credit a lot of the time. Again, mostly because he’s pretty.

Is it possible that he grew to care for O!Ciel in someway? Sure! And I do believe he legitimately has a lot of respect for O!Ciel. But I honestly think it’s more likely that the bastard is hungry and the current events are making him worried that he’ll end up being killed or losing his meal in the end. I don’t think it’s impossible or too much of a stretch to say that he’s grown fond of O!Ciel in someways, but best believe that child is food. Yana even outright says that Sebastian LOVES to see Ciel suffer! Only it’s not so fun when Sebastian is also suffering too, lol he’s a narcissist.

TLDR: It makes sense why people root for O!Ciel and Sebastian. But I think we give these two way too much credit sometimes and there’s an over abundance of people trying to absolve them both of their evil. They are both garbage (lovable garbage!) that are currently facing the consequences of (mostly Ciel’s) actions. Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk. Please don’t kill me.

[dearmantis]

Horribly abominable and dreadful

Pairing: Stephen Strange x Reader

Summary: The realization that Stephen would never love you back, no matter what universe, was too much to bear. 

Warnings: no happy ending

Word Count: 1k

Author’s Note: This is the most edgelord fake-deep thing I’ve ever written. It’s also not very good, but that’s not shocking. Take it as the insane, nonsensical ramblings of someone loosing their mind. I think that makes the most sense. There's also 100% typos and grammar mistakes in here I just haven't found them yet.

There was something horribly abominable and dreadful about the feelings that you buried in your chest.

Something awful and terrible, a strong contrast to the pure, undying love that you knew Stephen felt for Christine.

Jealousy was a beast that not even a trained sorcerer like you was able to fight off and defeat. The only thing you could do was wait and watch as the sharp, sticky feeling fed on your soul and hollowed you out until you were no longer sure where you ended and the empty void of the universe, the blackness between the stars, planets and other celestial bodies, began. 

Nothing good could come out of the cold, wretched monster that had found it’s way into your soul.

In a way you felt a weird sense of solidarity and empathy with Wanda. While you wouldn’t hunt down a child, you could definitely see yourself succumbing to the call of the Darkhold, if there were any left. 

This was in no way comparable to the heartbreaks you had in the past. There was nothing normal or healthy about the sensation filling your bones, pulling on your muscles, ripping on your nerves. 

Was this the feeling that had driven the other Strange into complete insanity? Into darkness and evil?

This hopelessness? 

You slowly moved to stand up from your bed, carefully stretching your tired muscles in hope of returning some form of feeling into your weakening body before your eyes found the mirror at the opposite side of the room. 

There was nothing about your appearance that exposed the horrid truth of your slowly rotting soul to the others. You felt like a monster- but you did not look like one. 

Not yet, a voice whispered, eerily similar to the voice of the Scarlet Witch.  

The magic humming in your body nurtured the dark feelings. It gave the energy that your soul couldn’t, not while you were suffering like this.

But no matter how tired, exhausted and sad you were, how strong you were grieving the love that couldn’t be because Stephen had to tether his soul to another for eternity-

Until the heat death of the universe

The destruction of the nexus

The fading of all eldritch magic

There was something flickering in your eyes, something new, visible, bright and strong in ways the rest of you hasn’t been since the scarlet witch fell, something that wasn’t in your eyes yesterday.

That spark was unfamiliar to you. It felt like you were possessed. Like it wasn’t you who was looking back at you in the mirror but whatever had entered your body last night in your sleep. 

The thing in the mirror looked like you, but you didn’t recognize it.  

When you finally managed to rip your eyes from the mirror and move out of your room, Wong found you. 

He couldn’t see the acid in your throat, the stinging curses on your lips, the poison running through your veins, the darkness in your lungs. He only saw you. You and the sadness you felt. 

For the first time since you had met Wong, he wasn’t able to see the truth as soon as he looked at you. Your suffering, the desperate fight you fought as you tried to swim against the tide, struggled to keep your head above the darkness drowning you from the inside, was hidden. 

“It’s nice to see you up” Wong said, a warmth in his voice that made you yearn for the time where you felt deserving of that tone. 

Before the Scarlet Witch and America.

Before the Spiderman incident.

Before the Snap.

Before the car crash that send Strange into the arms of the Ancient One and into your life.

“It’s nice to be back on my feet” You responded, forcing a neutral tone into your words even though all you wanted to do was scream until your throat was raw. “I really just want to get back to work and get my life back into movement. Can’t stay stagnant forever, right? We need every Sorcerer we can get.”

You wanted to work on something big, something that Stephen would usually be asked to do, because you needed to get the rotten magic out of your body, all of it. 

Purge it from your mortal body and your immortal soul and hopefully come out clean and new and reborn, free from the feelings that were slowly killing you. 

Because Stephen Strange would never love you. 

No matter how much you changed yourself, how much you bend your body until the bones broke and the skin ripped, you would never fit into his heart. 

Wongs request was simple. Find Strange and bring him back to the Sanctum because there was some development with Shang-Chi and the rings. 

You weren’t prepared to see Strange interact with a beautiful sorceress that radiated powerful magic like the sun radiated warmth and light, nor did you expect him to follow her into the portal with that look on his face. 

That confidence and mischief that was formerly reserved for you when you two went onto one of your many small, fun adventures that drove Wong absolutely insane with worry because of how stupidly dangerous they were. 

The rot in your soul grew. The darkness rose over your head. Your bones broke. Your skin ripped. Poison rushed through your veins. Jinxes laced your tongue. Death filled your lungs. 

There was no Darkhold left in this Multiverse but you felt like the pain that had build it’s nest in your body and soul could create a new one. 

One just for you and you alone, made from your magic, years of suffering and unrequited love that you had only been able to endure by telling yourself that he wasn’t ready... until you were proven wrong. He was ale to move on, was clearly planning to use that sorceress as help.

You simply weren’t good enough for him. Not here and not in any other universe.

Years wasted, energy wasted, love wasted. 

There was something horribly abominable and dreadful about the feelings that broke out of your chest and swallowed you whole until you lost yourself in their screaming power.

[aroace-polyshow]

also a thing for you if you ever want to ramble about hw- what's emu's story for this? how did she get into illustration, and how did she meet the troupe?

RAUGH I ALWAYS WANT TO RAMBLE AND IVE BEEN THINKING ABOUT THIS TY FOR ASKING!!!! also took a while this time my bad man. the route my bus takes has very very shit internet so i couldn’t continue my draft during my ride 💔

anywayyy. good lord this is fucking long. im sorry.

for emu, i’m still figuring stuff out with her, but i’ve been thinking about her a lot more recently, and so far what i’ve got is that she has a little bundle of issues including grief over her grandpa, toxic positivity and not letting herself feel negative emotions properly, some internalized hatred of herself and how childish she is following an argument w shosuke, and generally feeling kinda lost, like the rest of hw, after wonder stage closed bc she doesn’t know what to do w/o shows. yknow.

so like. she still has her whole thing w/ her grandpa. and she while she wasn’t doing the *best* she wasn’t doing that bad in the mental health department. still wasn’t letting herself like. grieve properly. but she wasn’t the worst. she performed a lot on wonder stage and knew that the stage was in danger of being closed down, so she tried really hard to keep it from happening. but the actors for wonder stage began to leave as time went on and the ones who stayed didn’t really get why she was so persistent in keeping this stage open when the others in the park were better and shit. and she didn’t have much help. so unfortunately despite her best efforts wonder stage was kinda doomed for closure. butttt she’s not giving up yet. so she tries to convince her brothers to not close it, or at least to just give her some more time. which Does Not Go Well. shosuke gets real frustrated with her and starts yelling and shit. and while keisuke shuts him down once he gets too heated. well. it’s kinda too late. with what he said about her being childish and demanding that she just grow up already and stuff like that, my girl takes that to heart. and then with the official closure of wonder stage…yeah…she’s not doing the best…

emu’s grief here is made worse w/ the wonder stage closure. cause like. that was her and her grandpa’s favorite stage. girl feels like she failed him. she loved that stage. she loved doing shows there. it was something she had to remind her of her grandpa. and now it’s closed. :(

since then she’s been. different. like it’s just barely noticeable to a lot of people but she’s definitely changed. she smiles and acts cheery and seems like her usual self but like. her smile isn’t quite the same. she’s not quite as talkative. she avoids her brothers a lot more. and her brothers have noticed btw and they both feel AWFUL. especially shosuke. they done fucked up and they know it.

also like technically she could keep doing shows, after all theres the other stages in pheonix wonderland, and she has experience in doing shows + is related to the people who literally own the place so it wouldn’t be hard for her to join one of those stages. but she doesn’t bc after all that, she thinks her goal of just wanting to bring smiles to people is childish. shows make her so so happy but she thinks it’s immature and naive of her to still want to pursue that, especially considering she failed last time. it’s a silly and childish path to pursue, and she needs to pull her head out of the clouds and grow up already, like her brother says. so despite loving shows with all her heart, she gives up on doing them. but since shows are so important to her, she doesn’t rlly know what to do without them, so that’s where that feeling lost stuff comes in. yknow.

for her art, i just think she enjoyed art in general, and with her grief and the wonder stage closure it helped her cope. i have a very specific idea in my head of her style. but i cant remember the artist here on tumblr that i think she does art like. if i can remember their name i will though. i might actually do a post dedicated to what i think her art style is like….

not set in stone just yet, but what i’m thinking for the original meet up is that she meets nene first. nene does music and emu finds it, and it gives her some inspiration for some art. she posts it and credits nene’s music as what inspired her, and nene is so fucking honored. through some light encouragement from rui nene gets the courage to dm emu to tell her thank you, and they start chatting!! they get along pretty well and emu starts making art for nene’s music. eventually rui has the idea to start animating them, so they can make music videos for the songs, and boom hw gets its beginnings online.

this happens before wonder stage closure btw. when it does close, emu disappears from their group chat for a bit. she comes back like nothing happens and while she doesn’t tell them what happened, they both notice she doesn’t talk about what shows shes doing anymore, or shows in general. nene and rui are both very sad at this btw. seeing emu have so much love for shows and be able to talk about them like she did was really nice, so to see her stop with that and seemingly not enjoying shows anymore after something happened, just like they did, it sucks. :(

anyway i think my timeline is like. during nene’s last year of middle school when she transfers to home schooling, she starts doing music -> everything i just mentioned here happens -> eventually they meet tsukasa, and he joins the group -> hollow ☆ wonderland does its thing as a group for a while -> main story shit happens. yeah. 👍

uhhhh. dear god i’m so bad at explaining my thoughst. augh. i hope this made some amount of sense. and that i wasn’t too repetitive lsajdkhfgyfdhsj. anyway miscellaneous emu thingies now.

like i mentioned, wonder stage hasn’t been replaced yet, it’s just closed down and sectioned off. so emu still visits it all the time. there is nothing being done to maintain it. so it is absolutely unsafe. but does emu care. no. girlie wants to disappear and while she’s not *planning* on dying, if she had to die anywhere she wouldn’t mind if it was at wonder stage. she draws there a lot.

a lot of her drawings are traditional!! with lots of bright colors and crayons and colored pencils. she has lots of fun drawing.

this applies to non-au emu as well but she has gifted stickers to all her friends. nene’s synthesizer is covered in them.

wonder stage was closed off at sunset. btw. just to give her another reason to hate sunsets.

[akirawrites24]

Ren Amamiya x Female!Reader

Fandom: Persona 5

Ren is dead, Akechi killed him after the plan didn't work. He knew of it. You go to Mementos, needing some time alone after the death of your boyfriend.

(partly inspired by Seikyuu VA)

______

They could see this coming, they knew that this plan would have too many risks. They also knew that Akechi was smart and most likely would have seen through them. It was awful. Their leader is dead, and that's all because of their risky plan.

They all grieved in their own way, but none of them grieved as much as Ren's girlfriend [Name]. She immediately had sunk to her knees, bursting out crying while the other thieves were comforting her and each other.

How much disgust she felt when she saw Goro Akechi's face on TV, saying that Ren had committed suicide. She just wishes she could bring out the truth, but no one would believe her. And the fact that she isn't able to back up her claims are already a problem too.

She doesn't know why she went to Mementos. Is she going to let herself get killed by the shadows that are wandering around here, is something she doesn't know herself. And she isn't in the mood to change hearts either. There aren't any requests either, so she really doesn't know why she is here.

Despite all that, it would appear she didn't lose her will of rebellion yet. That was easy to see as she still had her attire on. If anything, she secretly wished that she did lose it so she could all leave this behind.

"[Code Name]", a voice whispered, and it was oddly familiar. She couldn't help but tear up. Is she really going insane to the point she is hearing his voice now too.

"Miss? What is wrong? You look like you are sad", a boy's voice said. Oh yes right, she forgot that not only she is able to enter Mementos.

"Oh, José…How are you doing buddy?", she said as she wiped her tears and looked at the boy in front of her.

"Oh, I am doing fine. Just gathering some more flowers! I hope you are doing okay as well with your friends! I haven't seen any of you for a while", José said as he was drinking a flower.

"Oh yeah, about that…We decided to take a break for a while. Wanting to do some more fun things in the real world, you know?", she said with a fake smile on her face, and José seems to have bought it.

"That is okay! Also, be careful around here! The Reaper is very active for some reason, I don't know why", he said as he drove off with a 'See you later!'.

[Name] wanted to cry again, wanting to break down. But instead, she went deeper in Mementos. Maybe she really wanted to kill herself.

It wasn't like she knew where she was going, because she didn't. She just went deeper and deeper, to the point she found herself in a strange ballroom.

"Huh?!", she said as she heard the door close with a bang, and wanted to summon her persona, but a familiar voice called out to her.

"I was waiting for you, treasure..It has been very lonely here without you", the voice said from behind her, and she covered her mouth while she cried and ran to him.

Standing there, stood Joker. Like he hasn't been shot in the head the previous Sunday.

She tackled him in a hug immediately while she cried hard. He only laughed and returned the embrace while stroking her hair.

"Shh, shh…It's okay..I am here now, I won't leave..And neither will you, right? My treasure?", he asked her as she kept crying, and he tried to calm her down.

She only nodded, she couldn't even speak anymore, just happy that he is okay, and alive.

He only laughed again. "Then it will be you and me here…forever"

She didn't notice the yellow eyes he had, however.

[mmfan1]

WIP - no name yet - another scene from the AU I started yesterday

“Not grieving so much as I should.  Our match was an arranged one, one that would keep our estate in our family.  You see my father is the Earl of Grantham and I am one of three daughters.  As you probably know primogeniture does not give the right of inheritance to daughters, but to the next male in line to the title.  In this case, my second cousin.  He was a nice chap, but had no sense of business, and I did not find him the best company.”

“How long were you married?”

“We married in 1912, after he survived the Titanic disaster.  My parents felt it was a divine sign that we should in fact be married.  Before that the engagement was not official and I thought I might be able to snag a duke and leave Patrick to my sister, to whom he was much better suited.”

“So I guess your husband was a lucky chap”

“For a while he was, survived the Titanic, served in the War, but ultimately made it through without injury”

“What happened to him?”

“He was killed in a stupid car crash on the day our son was born.  He held him once, told him earnestly that he loved him, and died on the way home”

“How awful for you, for the whole family.  When did this happen?”

“Robert Patrick is 7 months old now and he shares his birthday with his father’s date of death.  And yes it was awful, the shock of it, and also knowing Robbie would grow up without a father.  Because I do believe he would have made a good father, he was so looking forward to being a father and teaching our son to be the next Earl.  You see the whole point of our marriage really was to produce an heir and we were finally successful at that.  It had taken us eight years, I was beginning to think our marriage really had been pointless “

“Was there not a little element of love?”

“Oh you are so middle class.  There was some respect, perhaps appreciation.  But we spent more than half our marriage apart during the war.  And Patrick was quite injured by it.  Miraculously not physically, but mentally.”

“As most men of our generation “

“May I ask you something?”

“ I suppose you should be entitled to, I’ve done nothing but ask you questions “

“Do you still think about the war? More than three years later?”

“ I would be untruthful if I said I did not. But I do try to move on.  It’s just that so many things have happened since the war ended, not all of them good.”

“Does it hurt to talk about?  Because we don’t have to if you don’t want to.  Surely you did not come to this club to hear tales of woe”

“For now l will only share that I too have lost my spouse. She was sweet and Spanish flu stole her life not long after we married after the war.”

“Children?”

“I’m afraid not.  But this whole conversation has been way too serious for this club.”

“And what should we be discussing at a club like this?”

“Well I believe everyone is dancing, may I have the privilege of this dance, Lady….?”

“Lady Mary, and yes you may Sir…?”

“Not Sir, just Matthew”

He held out his hand, she placed hers in it and they headed to the dance floor.

[havin-fun-imagining-twd]

I don’t hate you

When - 40ish minutes after The first Christmas ‘without,’ Part 2. You were unable to successfully nap. And the turkey is still not ready to eat, but there are cookies!

What - there are cookies!, skimming stones, yearning, forgiveness (working on it), reconciliation, healing, found-family and a slow burn Daryl x You at Christmastime, y’all. You spend time with Rick to remind yourself that you don’t hate him.

Genre - found family fluff and slow burning

Perspective - You 2nd person, Daryl 3rd Person

Pronouns - neutral they/them

TWs? - some language, some anger, and Carl looks at mushrooms growing on a tree stump eww

Which stories should I have read first? - A fu--in’ great Christmas, The first Christmas ‘without’ Part 1 and 2. Like a traditional Sunday dinner will help you know what they’re talking about while y’all are eating cookies. There’s reference to souls stripped bare.  Then, read every other chapter!

How much time will I need to read it, troublemaker? - 25 minutes? It depends :D

Do you have a Masterlist? - there are two for The Slowpoke Series, the main one here in publishing order (recommended), and this one here in chronological order if you prefer!

      40ish minutes later

Him

............................

“Who got the most?”

Y/N turns from their spot on the ground facing the lake and subtly does that hand gesture thing that means they were finishing up a prayer. “Beth, then Glenn, Mags and me tied for third, Carl came in fourth. Oh, and Glenn was trying to convince us to do a chicken swim at some point while we’re here.”

He hums, smiles (on the inside) at the memory, then wonders how would he have done if he joined the rock-skipping contest?

You know what, why wonder? He’s gonna try skimming stones right now.

“Careful about gettin’ too close to me, Daryl, I’m almost done eating a spoonful of peanut butter.” They hold up the spoon with the extra long handle and wave it a little in warning.

“Nasty.”

Y/N shakes their head and winks. “Delicious.”

Confused at himself as to why he suddenly feels shy, he picks up a smooth-ish rock and looks sideways at his friend and tries to digest all the damn butterflies in his stomach. “Shoulder still good after pelting rocks?”

They nod and take the spoon out of their mouth to confirm, “Very. Not to brag, but I haven’t grieved it up in a over a month.”

He rounds his arm, throws—aw, shit, the only thing it did was go ploosh. Well, that was embarrassing, fuck.

“That was the warm-up, try again,” Y/N chuckles.

He grabs another, flings it.

Ha, that’s right! Three skips, motherfucker!

Take that, you fucking lake.

As his friend bursts out laughing, he becomes aware that he said the lake thing out loud.

Cheeks flaming up like a burner on a gas stove, he holds back a snort and deadpans, “I’m here to entertain,” as he reaches down to find another rock that was flat enough for skipping. He peeks behind him. “Gonna join?”

A pretend whine detailing how they “just got comfy, exceptin’ the fact that my butt is an ice pop,” comes before they stand up and grab a stone of their own. With a twist to the side to fling their rock onto the lake, they naturally mimic his “‘Take that, ya fuckin’ lake,’” as they throw. Their rock makes two big skips and one little one.

That they’re smiling makes him smile. He wonders if they saw him smiling like an idiot when they waved at him from over on the rock when they were sitting with Glenn. He then wonders if they were smiling back…

His turn, so he hurls another one out there and gets—four skips? Hell yeah!

“Four? Nice!” they praise. Already prepped with another rock, they take their turn and toss out there, getting two short hops. With a shrug and a smile, they tell him, “You could give Rick a run for his money, he’s good at this.” Y/N then wipes the dirt off their fingers and looks out at the water, tucking their hands under their scarf to warm up. “Did you notice that asshole’s ambidextrous?”

Which came out…not at all how they sound when they’re joking around. “You feelin’ any better than before?”

There’s a longer pause before they respond, “Y-yeah, I think so.”

“Quarter.”

Y/N makes a little huff and, sorry, that shit still makes Daryl smile on the inside. He unbuttons the pocket of his coat and pulls out his new nicotine gum. Let’s see if the stuff works… “Want me to kick his ass for ya?” he grunts (as a joke), poking out a piece from the foil packet.

Y/N lightly elbows him. Their eyes look brighter. “One of these days I might could say yes—you’d best be mindful of those offers, sunshine.”

He pops the gum into his mouth and shrugs. “I can kick his ass, no problem.”

“Ain’t saying you can’t.” Good, they’re close to giggling, he can tell.

“That ambidextrous thing, though,” he mumbles, “that coulda complicated stuff, thanks for the heads up.”

“Nah, Shane always bested him, you’d do fine.”

“Shane bested me, too, so, I dunno.” He chews the gum and few times and adds, “So did you, for that matter. You even fought T-Dog off unt—”

—ohhh shit. Okay, that was intended as an honest observation, the way they’d been able to fend off more than one person like that was badass and impressive as fuck, but reminding them of that night was brainless as fuck. The imaginary knee that hasn’t kicked his balls in something like two months shows up and knees him good.

That night, most of the group, in one way or another, had helped to either take Y/N’s weapons away, physically restrain them, or talk ’em down.

Then they’d left, which was huge for them. Huge for everyone. It didn’t last long, he’s damn grateful for it, like, they’d even told Carl it was temporary. But still. Them leaving ‘their’ Carl was big.

And he gets one final knee to his danglers when his friend makes light of it. “But together, y’all conquered, and a good time was had by all.”

Always with the making light, this one, even when they’re clearly trying to swallow so they don’t cry, and smiling even though it’s not fooling anyone. Such as right this damn minute. Well done, Daryl.

He can’t seem to grab the right words to smack into a sentence, what’s the protocol for this?

Also, why are they smiling at him? And pointing a spoon at him?

“Uh-oh, dude, if you’re fixing to get all awkward and apologetic or uncomfortable around me, I’ll go scoop more peanut butter onto this spoon and chase you with it.”

Hands up in surrender, he catches himself cracking up. “I’ll go get the jar right now, slowpoke, where’s it at?”

With another head shake and a giggle, they lightly cup their hand on his upper arm. “Alright, s’go back, Dary-bear. Carol, T-Dog and Beth were making a surprise, let’s see if it’s ready yet.”

............................

You

............................

New baking secret learned today: baking cookies on a piece of tinfoil on top of a woodstove is somewhat tricky and requires flipping, however, it makes the room smell heavenly! They weren’t ready when you and Daryl poked your heads in, but after you and Lori came back from doing laundry, the water department building was toasty warm and smelled like a bakery.

Another secret you learned about two hours ago, unrelated to baking, is to not forget to push the front seats back when napping in the truck. This way, when you roll over in your sleep, you don’t fall into the wedge between the backseat and the floor; your nap was very short (nonexistant), and the mp3 ran out of charge anyway.

Back to the cookies, they were made with farina, corn starch, applesauce from those little sealed cups, some of the sugar rations, other stuff. You started bouncing as soon as you took your first bite. You’re still bouncing at your spot by the window where you’re doing your shoulder PT while nibbling on one.

Lori is cranking up the little rainproof crank radio with the plugs and charging ports (and flashlight!) in it. It’s got a little solar arm out to speed up the process, but all told, it’s not very efficient.

And there’s no turkey ready for consumption just yet, but there are cookies.

“Lore, want another?”

“I want more than just another,” she muses under her breath. “I’m gonna stick with the two I already ate. I might take a walk around the lake to get way from them, in fact,” she laughs. “The mp3 is almost at four bars.”

The nod you make in response that the music player is almost ready doesn’t match the uneasy look on your face. You can feel your facial muscles not cooperating to make you look relaxed and chill.

Best change the subject: “It is Christmas Day, it’s a requirement to eat too many cookies. Besides, you can relax the willpower a little when you’ve got a baby in there. Oh! I’m gonna find the Frog and Toad story about the cookies and read it to your belly!” you babble.

Her hand briefly rubs along her very tiny bump. Crazy that she was able to feel them moving two or three weeks ago, it was so early! “People are already beginning to…” she pauses, then shifts closer to you. “You know how Hershel doesn’t want to be treated as delicate? How you don’t like needing help or admitting when you need to take it easy?”

“That’s never happened ever,” you deadpan, which makes her smile.

“As the months go on, I’m going to need more help, and, and attention, whether I want it or not. So before that, I-I don’t want to accept any special treatment. You understand.”

Munch, munch, munch. You chew slowly in an attempt to make a point. “It’s a cookie.”

“No special treatment. And I’m just so…” Her eyes shut for a moment. She opens them and looks embarrassed. “Oh, Y/N, I’m just so hungry,” she softly confesses. “All the time. At the house, there was an old box of baking soda in the closet.” She opens her eyes and appears embarrassed. “I almost tossed it into the toilet to stop myself from eating it. I had to give it to Carol. That’s what I’ve started craving, it’s — anyway, I’m pretty certain I’ll lose it and pig out in front of everyone one of these days. And we’ve already been far too,” a pause to find the right word, “humbled enough around each other.”

“And she draws the line at eatin’ a third cookie, ladies and gentleman,” you poke fun while pausing your PT to book it over to the med bag for the vitamin supplements. Lori tends to get nauseated when she takes them, but craving baking soda, something non-nutritive? An extra vitamin can’t hurt. “Just a sec, that’s the cute name for this new cookie recipe. Why, we should oughta make ‘special treatments’ every Christmas henceforth!”

“Yo, why are we saying ‘henceforth?’” Glenn calls over with his mouth full.

“I named the cookie special treatments and said we’ll have to make ’em every Christmas henceforth.”

“What does that even mean? That name sucks, dude.”

True. Rude. “Well, what grand name do you got?”

“The ‘water departments.’”

“Eesh, y’all stink at names,” is all T-Dog will deign to say as he paces around doing a little food dance of his own while he savors every bite. “How about: the ‘apocalyptic masterpi’—nah, that won’t work, this ain’t the Apocalypse, it was just an outbreak of a novel or mutated disease, most likely a viral one,” he narrates to himself. That’s what all the news stations had been reporting before they went out. Dr. Jenner had seemed to echo that hypothesis, you guess.

Maggie starts chuckling to herself over “The water treatments, is that a better name?”

“The, um, special departments…” is Beth’s contribution, and the lengthy “special water department treatments,” is what Carl giggles from the floor where he and Beth are laying, staring at out the window while they indoor cloud-watch.

“The water department specials?” Lori offers, accepting the vitamins from you and quickly taking them down with some leftover coffee.

In terms of the other choices, that was pretty solid. Sounds more like a civic tax discount, but, “Yeah, I’d eat those.”

Glenn’s grinning wide. “Now we have something to serve with our trademarked drink.”

Trademarked drink? “Hold up, you mean ‘The CDC?’ Or did we go with the ‘Dr. Jenn—no, not that name, I’m deletin’ it,” you mutter.

Glenn hesitates, “‘The CDC’ is an okay name.”

“I guess,” you start to think, but catch eyes with T-Dog. “Teddy, you remember how Glenn drained his so quick?”

“And all that wine, and how he felt the following morning, yes I do.”

Maggie starts laughing. She’s heard the story quite a few times. You grin at her as you lean against the windowsill by Lori and say, “How about we rename the drink ‘The Glenn?’ That sounds cool.”

The namesake seems cool with it. “Oh heck yes! You know why that name sounds cool?”

“’Cause he is the coolest,” you drawl, as cheerful as you’d felt this morning when you all prepped for making sure Christmas would still feel relatively normal, especially for Carl.

The cheerfulness goes *poof* when you hear Lori calmly tell you in your ear, “It’s charged up, honey.”

You turn.

Look.

She’s holding out the mp3 player and new(ish) earbuds you just been gifted.

To explain: back closer to when it happened, it was how she’d help you to spend time with Rick, how you could stay calm but still reestablish your bond with him. That’s why you brought it up to him earlier, you’d figured it was a good idea…

Lori also knows that during that big fight with Glenn you’d had about a month back, when he name-called you ‘Nurse Ratched,’ you’d taken that very personally. It hit as if he were saying you’d lost yourself the way Shane had, like your conscience had become deformed. Whenever you fight with Glenn about Hershel, you kinda might could still be scared that others see you as a cruel, unfeeling ticking time-bomb.

Back to your music-listening with Rick, a plus was that it gave you full leave to get some of your aggression out via (playfully?) insulting his taste in rockabilly.

Your eldest sister had just about every genre on her old mp3 she gave you; hard rock, screamer, Motown, Gregorian chants, big band, P&W, R&B, Bollywood, reggae, classical, musicals, pop, Latin, Korean—you name it, she had it. She also added music and made playlists for friends and family. Including rockabilly for her good friend’s husband/stepbrother’s best friend.

Which isn’t so bad, it’s just mildly entertaining how into it Rick is compared to stuff like Zeppelin or Jimi or Cash. In his defense, he can’t help but bounce along to Britney, though.

Right, you have to answer Lori, don’t you?

“I don’t want to” is what untactfully hops out of your mouth. You were supposed to be subtle about it, Y/N.

“Honey.”

“I’m meant, um, I’m good now. I don’t need to.” It’s too late, stop trying.

“Maybe he needs you to,” she gently hints.

Needs you to? Did Rick—Rick noticed that you’d gotten angry about him again, didn’t he? That asshole always notices.

“Lori, he’s the resident atheist, he’s not gonna wanna sit though me playin’ Christmas carols, anyways, you know how he gets about God stuff.”

She still holds out the music player.

Fine. Mindful that you are on the grumpy side after your failed attempt at a nap, you accept the mp3 from her hand and put your hat back on. But before you bust out there to listen to music with (say it, Y/N) your brother, you first call out the door, “Daryl, can I have my coat back?”

As much as you don’t want to take off Daryl’s poncho, you’d like your other, deceased brother’s coat back on.

Either to remind Rick of him or because you feel more grounded in that old coat because it still smells like Shane and home a little bit, you aren’t clear.

............................

      1 minute later

............................

Daryl’s letting you keep the poncho on, he says he’s comfortable in just his leather jacket for now. In thanks, you impulsively took your scarf off and flopped it around his neck (you were worried that he’d get cold in just the jacket. It’s darned chilly out.)

You feel better that you can keep his poncho on. Safer, you guess.

Is that silly? It’s not like it’s armor. 

And why would you need armor in the first place?

............................

Him

............................

He figured he could keep watch while he and Maggie were about to start guard duty, anyway. It was regular guard duty, by the way; the group stopped being on edge about Y/N being unaccompanied around Rick the second week after their brother was killed, it hadn’t taken long.

And it’s not like he’s gonna stand over them, he’ll just be nearby. No big deal. He’s just — it’s not the weird, nice feeling in his chest this time exactly, it’s more of that damn invisible string thing happening again. When it happens, it feels right to be a little closer to Y/N, make sure they’re safe, he guesses. And seeing them wearing his clothes makes him wanna stand taller, so he turned down his poncho even though he’s kinda cold.

Right, um, anyway, walkers had a way of sneaking up on people, never mind that other living people could be a way bigger threat to his two distracted friends listening to music and staring out at the lake. So, he’ll keep an eye on them.

There are some bolts he needs to sterilize and sharpen, anyway.

............................

     1 more minute later

You

............................

Sleeping bag in hand so your butts won’t get too cold, you silently walk with Rick around the edge of the lake as to be in view of the little building. You get to the water’s edge and flop the sleeping bag on the mossy part near the bank. The water’s frozen over just a bit.

Through your yawn, you state, “You get one Ronnie Dawson song and Yakety Yak, then it’s carols, Rick.”

He catches your yawn and stretches as he replies, “Sounds good.”

You both sit and silently look out at the water. But it’s in your periphery that you notice you aren’t quite alone. With a glance first at Rick, you turn and stare openly for a moment because you’re slightly annoyed.

Is he the babysitter or something? That he’s whittling the points of his bolts isn’t fooling you.

Murmuring to Rick in a light, self-deprecating tease, “Daryl’s our warden this time,” you hold out one earbud for him and gesture toward where your favorite redneck is loitering.

“It’s not like that,” Rick murmurs back.

What you’d probably describe as a knowing smile spreads across your face. “Is it not?”

“No.”

You nudge him softly with your arm as what anger remains inside you is carried off in the breeze. “Not even a little, though?”

“Go on, troublemaker, let’s listen to some music,” he ribs in response. “And believe it or not, I wouldn’t mind carols. It’s been a fuckin’ great Christmas.”

Your mouth falls open because, first off, Rick doesn’t cuss. Second off (is that a term?), that’s the exact phrase Daryl said earlier. Your cheeks heat again and you’re smiling like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar. “Did my punk repeat something he should oughtn’t have?”

His eyes crinkle and he chuckles, “I ‘might could’ have overheard you and Daryl with him around the fire earlier.”

“Well, now your son is one quarter richer.”

“We’ll have to put it in the bank, save it up for college.”

Once he’s got the earbud in his ear and he gets comfortable, you click play. It’s the live version of one of his favorites. The opening lyrics “Gimme the downbeat, maestro!” bleat out, and, per usual, Rick cannot help but jive along (and snap off-rhythm). It’s very cute.

He mouths along with the lyrics, too, knows them all. Two and a half minutes later, you feel up to joining him in singing along to final words, “Hear me? Whoa! Action packed!”

The next song is equally bouncy and old, so much that you drowsily check to see if your boots turned into saddle shoes.

Your fatigue is briefly overcome when ‘Toxic’ starts to play. Rick snorts and starts to giggle like a little kid while you mouth every lyric (you don’t actually know the exact lyrics, just what they sound like, you feel?) and grooving along to the tempo. His off-rhythm snapping comes back with a vengeance until the song ends.

The Christmas carols finally start after, and your sleepiness returns and goes into overdrive. You lean against the rock behind you. Rick does, too. The sun is shining enough to keep you cozy, the music is softer.

Ricks yawns and stretches again. When the instrumental version of Oh Come, Oh Come Emmanuel plays, your eyelids are sinking…

............................

Him

............................

Are they both asleep?

Shit, look at that. Both just snoozing, like, right there.

How long’ve they been like that? Damn, it’s a good thing he’s out here keeping watch—keeping watch in general, not specifically on them.

But yeah, might as well let them cop some Z’s.

............................

    ? minutes later?

You

............................

A familiar tune that you haven’t heard in over three months stirs you very awake. You’ve been avoiding it on purpose, why is it playing? Make it stop, make it stop, make it st—

—You pull the earbud out and sit up with a sharp inhale.

“Kiddo, you okay?” He only uses ‘kiddo,’ when he’s feeling protective.

“Yeah, um, ain’t nothing, it, it j-just got to be too much noise,” you make up on the spot. It sounded casual enough, right? You blink the grogginess away and blindly stare at the clouds as you rest your arms on your knees.

“I saw you were still out, figured that one would help you stay asleep. Your family’s song.”

“You’d think we was making commission, how often Mama or the girls or Shane played it over the years.”

“Shane listened to that song for everything. Insomnia, break-ups, failed tests, rough calls, arrests he didn’t feel right about. In fact he,” his voice gets softer. “He played that song almost nonstop, absolutely nothing else other than that for three whole weeks after your dad passed.”

“Mama replayed her Boyz 2 Men cassette durin’ that.” You were very young when that happened, but that’s the most vivid memory you have. That and the smell of all the casseroles neighbors and such brought over.

“I still remember the streaky sounds the CD player would make when he’d hit the back button. It was something, he ended up not being able to stand the song for four months after.”

“Imagine that,” you mumble. You’ve got the ‘22’ pendant between your fingers again. “Well, Shane was a drama-king,” you joke.  

“In his defense, so am I,” Rick almost sounds nervous to joke back.

“At least you’re more Shakespearean than he was. Stronger moral backbone, too.” Fuck it, you’ll speak honestly. You loved him, you would’ve killed and would’ve been killed for him, and you pray that he’s resting in peace, but you know what Shane’s faults were.

“Shakespearean?” Rick repeats.

“Yeah, Shane sounded like a hillbilly compared to you, the way you always talk good and give speeches.”

A groan follows you comment about ‘speeches,’ but then he gets a mischievous look on his face. “I talk ‘good?’”

Aw man, you walked straight into that one. Your mildly British accent comes back out. “Oh, I do beg your pardon, I meant to say that you speak well.”

He gets brave enough to use Shane’s old nickname for you. “Weirdo.”

You don’t mind, you gave him an old nickname, too. “Pork-chop.”

The quiet tinkling of the pendant’s loop running over the small links in the chain as you pull it back and forth, back and forth, fills the silence that follows. It’s an okay silence, too. You’re glad that Lori convinced you to do this today, you think, as you snuggle deeper into your coat and inhale deeply—wait.

You sniff again.

Again.

Your stomach drops to the ground.

Crap. “D-did Daryl smoke in this?”

“Barely. You know how he’s been doing short little spurts, less than a minute. Hey, Y/N, why are you taking the jacket off? It’s cold out.”

“Just checkin’ something.” The chill doesn’t bother you as you press the collar to your nose and sniff. Cigarettes. Daryl. Wood-smoke.

You try sniffing the back of the collar. Daryl. Wood-smoke.

You check the shoulders. Wood-smoke.

Finally, when you try lower down on the coat, you relax and hug it in relief.

Shane’s scent isn’t all gone yet, neither is the faintest hint of Mama’s perfume that would always linger on things she wore.

A few tears well up and flow out as you feel your pulse going down.

“Does it still smell like him?” Rick wonders very quietly.

“Mmhm,” you mumble, your cheek resting against the soft, fluffy, very worn lining. You bury your face in the fluff and breathe in again.

“Y/N, I wish th—” he stops abruptly and doesn’t finish his thought.

There’s a lump in your throat you try to swallow away.

The sounds of geese flying overhead fill the air. A gentle, cold breeze picks up and you could swear you get a whiff of peanut butter. You start to feel cold again.

From the little building, laughter reaches your ears. Carl, Beth, Glenn. Lori and T-Dog’s voices you think you hear, too.

“Wanna wear it for a while, Ricky? It’s a good coat,” leaves your mouth.

He doesn’t seem to know how/what to reply, so you decide for him and hand it over. Doing that thing where someone looks at another but not in their eyes, he unzips his coat and trades with you.

Oo, his jacket is warm! You begin to unzip the hoodie you have on, quickly remove the poncho underneath, then just as fast zip your hoodie back on and bundle into Rick’s coat before all the body warmth on it disappears in the wintry chill.

His coat also has a fuzzy lining around the neck so you rub your cheek on it. You can imagine Daryl asking “What are ya, a cat?” and it makes you grin.

Rick’s got the music player in his hand, but you see him peering at you — in the eyes, this time. “Why did you switch coats with him today?”

You’re mid-shrug when you notice how you’re hugging the poncho to yourself like a blankie. “I was shiverin’ this morning and he offered.”

“That was kind of him.” It’s unclear to you whether or not he’s teasing you about it (he never has), but either way, this is good. You’re really glad you’re doing this.

“It was,” you answer simply, feeling at peace.

“So, what are we listening to next? I’ll put carols back on?”

“Can you replay the song, Rick?”

“The Zeppelin one?”

You nod. “You can pick which version.”

“Um, sure, of cour—sorry, there are versions?”

“She uploaded the remastered version, the mandolin cover, a live recording from YouTube.”

The poncho, you finally pull back over your head and wear it properly this time, over everything else instead of under. “I feel like an old-timey gunslinger in this.”

With a quiet chuckle, Rick nods. He click, click, clicks through the mp3 for the song. “Of course she made a playlist of only this one.”

A smile forms on your lips. Yeah, your eldest sister made a playlist of only Going to California, with three versions in a row repeated three times. It was for (her step)Mama and (stepbrother) Shane.

He hands you the earbud you’d torn off. You thank him and place it back into your right ear.

The gentle strumming of the guitar starts to play.

Clouds pass overhead as the song washes over you. Three months, you haven’t listened to it. Barely touched Zeppelin entirely, Shane enjoyed them too much.

The mandolin soon joins the guitar’s pretty, soft melody. You don’t feel sick to your stomach this time.

Robert Plant’s voice begins to sing those silly, nonsensical lyrics. Man, you’ve missed this song.

You hear Rick make a shaky inhale, so turn to look. He’s all bleary-eyed, same as you.

“I don’t know why, but something about the tune gets me going,” he hushes.

A sob forms in your throat, so you nudge him with your foot and tease, “Drama-king.” You scoot closer to him. He scoots closer to you.

“Are we okay?” you hear him ask.

“’Course we are. We have been. It was just the holiday gettin’ to me earlier.” And you aren’t just saying it, you mean it. “We’re family.”

Rick swallows and rubs the scruff on his jaw. His eyes are now completely bloodshot. “So was he,” he whispers.

The sob moved up when you heard him repeat the exact three words you’d said to him that bad, bad night. Four simple phrases, nothing fancy or profoundly heartbreaking. But the first one, “So was he,” you dunno, but it hit him like kryptonite, so you learned.

Like, obviously there’s more to it, but no, you’re not gonna delve back down; what’s done is done.

Forgiveness, in it’s fullest sense (which means your anger has gotta go) is something you’re working on, therefore accepting the past and not living in it is important. And for Rick, your brother, he’s in desperate need of forgiving himself.

Though, because of that night, instead of saying ‘I love you,’ as true as those words are, when things are hard, you have a temporary, different way of wording them with him…

“Rick? I don’t hate you.” It’s a false equivalent, you know, but it’s what needs to be used as the translation for the time being

His breath hitches. Rick turns his head away and tugs at his hair for a moment before turning back. “Y/N? I don’t hate you, either.”

You wipe your eyes and say it again. “I don’t hate you at all.”

He smiles a little while staring at the lake. “Good, ’cause I don’t hate you at all, either.”

............................

Him

............................

Nice, they’re sitting close. Good sign. And good cookie, hot damn. Carol snuck some more out and was sharing them. “Thanks for not makin’ them peanut butter,” he remembers to tell her. Shit, a crumb fell out of his mouth when he said that. Damn.

“They would’ve come out so much better if we did, pookie, just letting you know.”

“Yeah, T-Dog reminded me.”

“He’s, um…” What’s she smiling all shy about? “He’s actually making peanut butter ones outside over the fire right now.”

He turns to look. Oh yeah, check it out. T-Dog’s got the flat pan thing balanced over the makeshift grill. “Nasty.”

“Better stay downwind,” is her suggestion. She’s smirking only a little.

He did not expect to become such good friends with Carol, of all people, but he’s real happy it turned out this way. Definitely didn’t expect to become friends with T-Dog, neither. Hell, at first, he couldn’t imagine becoming friends and getting close enough for that damn invisible string to tug every so often with Y/N.

Didn’t expect to stay with or get close to any of the people here, to be honest. It was the last idea in his head that he was gonna stay, and that they’d want him to stick around.

“Would you like another, Daryl?”

“Hell yeah.”

She pulls out a napkin-wrapped small bundle from her coat pocket and hands him two more. He shoves a whole one in his mouth, it’s so damn nice to have a fresh cookie.

From the corner of his eye, he sees Baby Spice Beth by the fire, waving to them from beside T-Dog as he calls over, “Carol! I think it’s go-time for our turkey!”

Beth’s teeny little voice shouts what he thinks is “I got all the fixin’s ready!”

He’s not at all ready for Y/N and Rick to suddenly start shouting, handguns out, “T-Dog, we’re coming!” and “Beth, get Carl and Lori and run to the Hyundai and hide, we’ll get you when it’s safe! T-Dog, find Hershel!”

From the other side, Maggie then shouted something like, “Is Beth hurt? What’s goin’ on?”

What the hell?

............................

You

............................

Today is just full of lessons, ain’t it?

Turns out that you and Rick having music playing loudly in one ear leads to the two of you, upon hearing raised voices but not hearing what they were saying, to immediately assume the worst and jump into action. You’d both thought your people were being attacked or overrun...

A minor ruckus ensued, it’s, um, it’s fine now.

Hershel was amused. You heard him sigh all the way from where he was, then watched as he waved his hand with the yellow walkie in it and continued ambling along on his constitutional around the lake. It’s good that he’s keeping his scarf over his mouth and nose to warm the air while he’s out and about.

Carol told you both that you and Rick looked “kinda cool” when you’d leapt up together and started making for the completely imagined emergency. “It was like one of those movies with the sheriff and the rookie.”

You, obviously, were quick to coo “Aw Rick, you looked like a rookie!”

It was good to see him smiling. When you’d heard the shouts, he’d gone from normal to sweaty in the approximate 10 or so seconds worth of time it took for y’all to get up-in-arms and ready to bust some heads → to becoming some sort of emotion in between embarrassed, confused, and annoyed at having reacted so strongly.

Not that you still won’t occasionally refer to Rick as ‘dicktator,’ but that man is constantly on-alert because he genuinely wants the group safe and protected. He took all responsibility upon himself that bad, bad night. And no matter your opinion on it, the other people in your group rolled with it; you don’t control their choices.

They concluded that it was safer together (which it is, and you’d have it no other way) and they openly accepted those really shitty terms and conditions Rick laid out (which you did not and aren’t pretending to).

You’re pretty sure Rick’s still concerned about the group splitting, or that the group was still “broken,” as Dale had said just over three months ago (which reminds you that you still haven’t done the kaddish thing for him yet today!).

Truly, that stopped being an issue over two months ago. It was only after his initial dick-tator speech and when you were still postal that your people had been flight risks.

The group isn’t broken. It took only like a week for you to calm down, therefore for the group to calm down, but Rick can’t…forgive himself, therefore thinks he can’t ‘fail,’ even in appearance, after having done what he did.

He’ll get there.

While he’s off with Lori and trying to process that today is a good day and he can rest, you took a guard shift early to relieve Maggie. Carl is beside you, just to hang. He’s of course got his deputy hat on, with his little pistol out.

“You’ve got the safety on, baby?”

After a playful whine, he reminds you “Not a baby.”

“Hey. I changed your diapers, you’ll always be a baby to me. Punk,” you correct yourself.

“The safety’s on.”

And you know he hasn’t fired it since two days ago so his gun is still fully loaded minus three rounds. When was the barrel last cleaned and oiled, though? “And you took it apart and cleaned it with your dad earlier, right?”

“Yeah.”

Why did that sound uneasy?

You turn to get a good look at him.

He’s still maintaining proper gun handling, but his head is stooped.

Timidly, he calls your name. “Are you sad about Uncle Shane today?”

“I was. I-I still am, a little,” you confess. Lying isn’t your thing, and besides, that boy notices things the way Daryl does. With a lift of your shoulder, you concede “I miss all of them, just like you do.”

Him and Lori were crying a little yesterday night about Evie (Lori’s sister, Carl’s auntie). After New Year’s last year, she’d secured leave for her first Christmas at home in like four years. When Lori remembered that this was supposed to be the first Christmas with Evie again, she crumpled. Carl, too. “It’s normal that around special days like Christmas, one can feel a stronger sense of loss.”

“But it’s different with Shane!” he blurts out. Wiping his nose, he then starts to shuffle one foot around the twigs and acorns and dried leaves on the ground.

“I know, bud,” you sigh.

He sniffs and starts to pace. You rub your thumb along Dale’s big watch on your wrist and wish there was more you could do to make things better. For stuff like this, it just takes time. Some days are simply gonna be not-so-good. You send up some prayers and ask what to do, then you worry: your nephew didn’t start to feel scared of Rick again, did he?

You’d hoped that was just a one-off thing from that bad, bad night. “Carl, did you feel unsafe around him today or yesterday?”

You have to turn to see him shaking his head. “Sometimes, when he’s angry,” he quietly admits. “But not today. It was, um, it was when I saw…” He sniffs again and runs his sneaker over an acorn. “It’s just that you were playing with the necklace a lot yesterday and today. Then I overheard you talking with Mom earlier…” His little mouth twists and his brows knit close. “Was it okay that I gave Dad the picture with him and Shane and us?”

“Yes.”

“Did it hurt your feelings?”

“Not one bit, I was proud of you.”

Now he’s staring at his shoes. “Are you angry at dad again, Y/N?”

Deep breath. “I was for a short while.”

He gives a little nod and looks down, then back into your eyes, mouth still twisted as if he’s nervous about your answer. “Did you hate him again today?”

“No. I didn’t hate him today, I ain’t truly hated him in a long time.” You shrug. “Today, I simply remembered what it was like to.”

“I know he’s…not a bad man,” he says more cautiously than he should be.

“He’s a great one and a good one. And I don’t hate him, I love him.”

A shy smile twists his mouth and he relaxes his grip on his gun.

Ew, but now he’s staring at some type of orangey, shiny, fairly large fungus. Funguses? Fungi? Whatev.

Grossed-out and wondering how you hadn’t noticed them until now, you automatically guide him back from it just in case of, you don’t know, um…spores (that’s a thing, right? Mushrooms are just so creepy).

But a sudden flashback to the way you’d been holding Carl so he wouldn’t get any closer to that buck—right before they both got shot—causes you to flinch and let go of his shoulders.

“Y/N?”

“Sorry, just went back to that day with the buck, kiddo, my bad,” you mumble. “Hey, if um, if you go get your mama, she might will know what that one’s called.” Lori’s the resident mushroom expert. Back in the before-times, you’d thought it was a disgusting unusual hobby. Joke’s on you, now. It’s a great skill to have when civilization collapses.

“They look cool.” His face lights up. “Wanna bet if we can eat those?”

“Ew, I’m bettin’ no way.”

“I’m betting yes way.”

You squint at him. “What’s the bet?”

“If I lose, I’ll give you one of my puddings.”

“High stakes, then. And I would give you what’s left in my can of Crazy-Cheez, but I don’t anticipate havin’ to. Are you sure you wanna bet the pudding, baby?”

What’s that mischievous look he’s making for? “I can’t wear your boyfriend’s poncho instead?”

Oh, that’s why. “Sure, yeah, totally — now since when are he and me behavin’ romantic, punk?”

“Well, why are you wearing his poncho? And he was wearing Shane’s co—”

“—My coat, not Shane’s. Daryl and I switched for funsies, how’s that?”

“Y/N, are you still scared of dating?”

Good Moses, kid. “I’m cautious and careful. Now, go get your mama, a puddin’ cup, and a spoon, please, ya punk-ass.”

“Pretty sure you owe a quarter for that,” he teases, holstering his pistol. He takes a few steps to head back, but turns around. “Don’t you like him?”

“I like everybody here.”

He huffs in a way not dissimilar to how you tend to. “You know what I mean.”

“I guess I don’t hate him. Happy?”

When you watch the punk-ass raise his eyebrows, redden, and start to giggle, you smile, confused, because: what just happened that you’re missing?

Well, whatever it was, Carl wags his fingers and scurries off to the little water department building, so, you shrug and get back to your guard duty. You chuckle despite the good/scared sensation in your stomach.

Sometimes, you get a tugging sensation from your chest toward that darn mangy hick, ever since that day he’d almost gotten himself killed trying to find Sophia. Other times, it’s just your standard butterflies. But every so often, it’s a good/secure/safe/nervous feeling in your gut.

Peeking back through the trees to make sure nobody is looking in your direction, you wrap the poncho tighter around yourself and you happily swing back and forth, grateful for the temporary peace and solitude. Your people are healthy, together, and happy…they’ve begun teasing you about you and Daryl…you get to wear his poncho…you can listen to Going to California again…

Tipping your head skyward, you whisper, “Thank you.”

Then it hits you: Carl noticed two and a half months ago how you (and his dad) started saying “I don’t hate you,” instead of “I love you” to each other…

Good Moses, and you just told him that…you didn’t hate…Daryl.

Oh my.

Ohh my.

Oh, poop, that punk-ass! That wasn’t what you meant, you love that mangy hick the way you love everybody here!

“Carl!”

............................................

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[gralunaisland]

Gruvians saying juvia has had a "tremendous amount of growth since joining Fairy Tail" never fail to make me laugh. Happy had more character development than her. Also, they really should look up the definition of 'obsessive', because she literally embodies that word. Honestly there isn't much to her character, aside from lusting for Gray. I guess the main reason she's popular is because she's 'attractive'? I really don't see any other reason this kind of character would have such a massive fanbase.

Examples of juvia Lacking Character Growth, and Why People Might Like her

This is the oldest ask I have at the moment, so thank you very much for your patience, Anon, and I apologize that I haven't been able to answer this in a while!

I agree with you on all points! You made some great ones. I'll respond to each!

It's pretty hilarious that some Pro gr///vians truly believe that juvia is a much, if at all, better person now than who she was before. she seriously hasn't gotten any less obsessive over the years. If anything, I believe the more we see of her, the more she gets worse. Anyway, I could probably pick apart any instance of "character development" that a Pro might try to use as proof. Here's a couple:

juvia killing herself for Gray? Look no further than this post of mine where I explain this in more detail. she lacks utter agency and will to live outside of Gray, so her life is quite literally worthless to her if she doesn't have Gray, and therefore it's not her being selfless in taking her self-made-meaningless life when she didn't have a self in the first place.

juvia apologizing to Gray for killing the necromancer who controlled Gray's already dead dad? I've already picked apart how that was utter manipulation and disingenuousness on her part in many of my posts, so I'll summarize here:

First, juvia never actually apologizes (literally, go back and read the panels, she never ONCE said even something as simple as SORRY).

Second, juvia makes everything about herself by saying essentially "I don't deserve to love you anymore", as if this had ANYTHING to do with her "love" of Gray when in reality all it had to do with was her doing her FRICKING DUTY by KILLING THE ENEMY. What's more, she's sobbing in that scene not because of any sympathy for Gray losing his father again. she's literally only doing that because she feels she's somehow lost Gray's good graces, that by doing this she doesn't get to give her abusive love to Gray anymore, that she's somehow lost her nonexistent chance to be with him. This scene should not have been about her at all, and yet of course, she's only focusing on the one thing that is in her life, her obsession with Gray against his wishes.

Third, she also stalked him to Silver's grave. Gray didn't tell anyone about it, and yet of course she follows him without his permission or knowledge as per usual. To her, Gray has no right to privacy.

Fourth, her pseudo-apology (which again wasn't one) went right out the window (she literally starts blushing and stops crying and hugs him and says he's warm. Uh. Crocodile tears anyone? Clearly all she cares about is skin-ship with her Gray-sama. she didn't look the least bit concerned that he was crying) once Gray clasped her, breaking down into tears and apologizing to her. What did he do??? she's really broken him so badly that she manages to make her "uwu I'm so sad I don't get to uwu love you anymore" into the most heartbreaking heartfelt apology Gray's ever heard. That amount of emotional and psychological manipulation, even if not on purpose, is absolutely despicable. she's making him feel EVEN WORSE. Remember, Gray is at his father's grave, and she doesn't care. she invades his private time for grieving and centers everything on her abusive passion for him. And Gray is too screwed up to realize how awful of a human being she is for doing so. she's literally making her self-imposed guilt more important than his trauma and making it his problem. I cannot overstate how horrible that is. she doesn't feel bad for Gray grieving his dad or even crying right now in front of her whatsoever, because now that Gray's made it clear that he doesn't hold her accountable for killing the evil necromancer, she has no reason to feel sad anymore. she never once felt real guilt, she just mourned what she was losing. This is the same thing as a kid only apologizing to their mom for breaking a vase just so they can go to that birthday party they wanted to attend. her "apology" was a means to an end, and she absolutely obtained that end.

Fifth, and one of the most damning things against her in this scene, and that's saying a lot, juvia doesn't change her behavior at all after this pathetic excuse of an apology. Throughout the rest of the story, she continues her unwanted, extreme, intrusive behavior towards Gray. she doesn't change one darn thing about how she treats him. (And it continues all the way even through 100YQ [which of course I don't include in the FT canon, but Pros do, so I shall include it here], only from what I've seen, which thankfully isn't much, it may somehow be even worse). If she were really sorry, she would've decided to stop loving Gray regardless of if he forgave her. she didn't take any convincing that what she did was guiltless. I can't believe (but I can because it's juvia we're talking about here) that she wouldn't take any of the meager amount of time that she felt bad to self-reflect on how her actions have negatively affected Gray. Whom am I kidding, that would require character growth, and we all who aren't blind can tell that she's had absolutely none beyond leaving Phantom Lord, and even that was just because she had a crush on Gray, not because she wanted to apologize to FT or Lucy for all the egregious things she did to them.

If anyone has other instances they want me to break down, feel free to comment them or send me an ask! I don't want to make this impossibly long haha.

Anyway, onto your next point, Anon, as I sort of mentioned when linking my other post, I totally agree with you that "there isn't much to her character, aside from lusting for Gray". I would even go as far as to argue that there isn't anything to her character beyond her perverted tendencies towards him. Literally, if you strip Gray away from her theoretically, what is she? she has no hobbies, she basically has no friends whom she's gone out of her way to make and hang out with (because yes, Mashima made the stupid move of making all the girls in FT like her for literally zero reason because she's been hostile to most of them on the basis of Gray), she has no motivations or hopes and dreams. she is nothing without Gray. she is the definition of a "satellite character", a character written to only revolve around another one with no agency of their own. Don’t forget, she even began to adopt Gray’s habit (and perhaps trauma coping mechanism) of stripping. she lacks THAT much self that she begins to turn into the guy she likes. Wow. Disgusting.

Onto your last point, I think I'd agree with you, that a big reason why juvia is popular is just because people like how she looks. But she's the very typical slim-curvy woman with a huge chest and butt and giant eyes that Mashima loves to draw. There's nothing wrong with that body type, but it's not like she looks that different from anyone else in the show because of that, especially since she kept changing her looks to try to get Gray to like her and literally grew her hair out and stopped curling it to look more like Lucy, someone who is Gray's type canonically. she even starts to show more skin like the others, a far cry from the completely covered up Rain Woman. Perhaps they like her color scheme or her dead-fish eyes as well. I couldn't understand it myself, but to each their own really.

I personally thought that the biggest reason why people liked her was because they projected themselves onto her. juvia does what juvia wants, completely self-centered in every way, ignoring Gray's consent, and yet she still comes out on top, having secured poor Gray's affections by the time of 100YQ thanks to Mashima's poor writing. juvia acts however she wants towards other people, snarling and glaring and insulting other women in Gray's life to their faces just because of her inane jealousy, and yet she somehow ends up every single girl’s friend. juvia acts insane and delusional and has only eyes for one man, and yet she gets other people to hit on her all the time, most notably Lyon.

Who wouldn't want to act completely selfishly like juvia does and still gain everything you desire? Who wouldn't want to ignore everyone else's needs and wants and only care about yourself and still get all the attention and all the power and all the love and all the friends and all your dreams come true?

Sounds like such an easy, fun life, huh? But it's a totally self-absorbed and awful way to live, and it's exactly how juvia lives.

My guess is that people use her as a self-insert character and root for her in their own stead, but I think that's very subconscious, and most wouldn't admit to that. Otherwise, I would really love to see how people justify her behavior as laudable, but then again, I have seen those attempts, and none of them have made any real logical sense to me.

All in all, thank you so much for your patience and for sending this ask! I hope I answered it properly, and I appreciate you waiting so long!

[simgirlsofhillsidehaven]

Having been compelled to forget the worst of Chloe's recent bite, Vicky was in a good mood. She knew they had to come up with a plan to get Chloe back into school and reunite her with her family as much as they could. The less time Chloe was considered dead (and had to hide), the better. Vicky had been told that Chloe would have a difficult time with control for a while. The syndicate had insisted that Chloe be closely monitored and not return to her previous home until she was no longer a threat to the general population and the secrecy of vampire kind. Vicky didn't like the restrictions, but she knew (instinctively) the syndicate was powerful and could cause them trouble, even harm, if Chloe and Vicky didn't toe the line. Personally, she didn't feel that Chloe was a threat to anyone (little did she realise how slyly Chloe had bitten her).

Vicky talked it over with Chloe. It was agreed that they would contact Zuri and reunite mother and daughter there at Hillside Haven. Zuri would be allowed to visit and likely Chloe would go over in turn, but Chloe could not live with her only family; at least for the time being.

They also agreed that Chloe would return to Copperdale High School. Zuri would know the truth, though they wouldn't tell Principal Prescott. As far as the school and other students knew, there had been an attack and Chloe had been mistakenly thought dead, but she had in fact recovered from her injuries. As long as they weren't specific about the nature of those injuries, Chloe might not even have to show signs of any infirmity or scarring. Chloe would pretend to be embarrassed, shocked and forgetful about the attack and generally change the subject as quickly as possible. Vicky and Chloe would do their best to deal with any situations as they arose.

So Vicky rang Zuri Samuels. A very confused and visibly grieving Zuri came, as arranged, early that evening to meet the stranger who had merely said that she had "information about your daughter Chloe".

Vicky told Zuri "I have recently been contacted by a secretive syndicate who monitors and conceals the existence of vampires among us. They learnt about my work at Hillside Haven here. The group home I run for girls. This syndicate, they wanted me to provide a home for your daughter Chloe. See, Chloe was attacked by a vampire and awoke in the funeral home. She's alive Ms. Samuels. Just not quite the way you and I are..."

During this speech, Zuri's face ran a gamut of emotions. Fascination, confusion, shocked disgust and then disbelief. Zuri had vivid memories of choosing a coffin for her seventeen-year-old, of seeing her only child's lifeless body.

"Chloe" Vicky called "Come and join us" and Chloe walked out of the kitchen to face her mother.

Once more Zuri's expression changed rapidly. Shock, awe and disbelief warred with joy and longing. Chloe and Zuri embraced for a long, long moment.

Finally the pair pulled apart.

"How?!" Zuri exclaimed.

"Vicky told you. The man that attacked me was some sort of vampire. I woke up at the funeral home, I guess it was lucky that it was late afternoon, but not too late -not many people around. Mr. Anderson is part of that syndicate thing, that's why he works as an undertaker, to look out for the victims of vampires who become vampires themselves. "

Zuri held her hands out in a 'Stop. Wait' gesture.

"Yeah. It's totally weird. I don't get it all myself. I had to wait at the funeral home for what felt like ages. And they bought me blood. In bags, you know? And Mr. Anderson told me I'm a vampire now, that there are actually a lot of them, well, us..."

"Do you believe it? All the girls at school going on about Edward Cullen and all this time there's these honest to God creepers running about sucking people's necks."

Seeing her Mum struggling, Chloe rushed to reassure "But don't worry. Vampires don't have to bite people. Only the few really bad, out of control ones hurt others. Most vampires live on donor blood... bags, remember?"

Zuri hadn't truly slept in days and was still wearing the same paint spattered clothes in which she had answered the door to every parent's worst nightmare. She was beginning to think she was dreaming or going mad.

Believing she would awake at any moment, faced again with the loss of Chloe, Zuri listened as Vicky explained how Chloe could not come home, how Zuri was welcome to visit anytime. The trio sat in the living room and for a time no one spoke further. The other girls (Jamie and Rose) had agreed to stay upstairs and take themselves to bed if necessary. Vicky fetched coffee and Zuri wondered at the aroma, the warmth and the rich taste. Surely no dream was like, that. You didn't smell things in dreams. Zuri wondered again if Chloes death had shattered her mental facilities completely.

Then Chloe began showing signs of restlessness. Her hunger was getting the better of her again. Vicky pressed a business card into Zuri's hands and as politely as possible, shooed her out the door and into her car...

[welcome-to-oslov]

Humiliation, degradation, fear, hotness: Tilrey really delivers 🥺🔥

Recently discovered Oslov and it is hitting allllll my kinks -- while being wrapped up in a really incredible political epic! Thank you...

I love how we get jolting flashbacks when he's older of so much we're getting to experience with him in AKoB. I'm really looking forward to his year with Linden, poor baby, though I hope it's longggggg time coming -- since once he moves in it means we'll be starting year 5 of 5 of the story, nooooo! Though we know a few hints of what he suffers, my guess is, given how much more messed-up he is at the start of ASB, he doesn't let even his memories tell us how badly he felt and all he went through. Both what Linden and his driver force on him, but also the degradation and dehumanization that comes from the rest of his world not giving a shit.

He doesn't deserve any of this, which makes it so hot (poor baby).

Ch.34 is so hot and sad with how distressed he is; he's overcome with grieving how he's being changed 😢. In later fics, how the feelings of degradation wash over him again, trembling as he stands up for himself, when Councillors reminisce about things he did. I could feel his bewilderment, humiliation, horror when a Councillor teased him about a rape and he thought, "It's so strange how they remember things he said, things he did, that even he can't remember."

Masterfully done too in his meeting in Harbour with Malsha, in just one sentence. Malsha brushed Tilrey's hair aside and trailed his finger down Tilrey's temple. For a second, Tilrey closed his eyes and let it happen, stunned, till he leaned away. Malsha kept talking, but Tilrey -- Tilrey "felt oddly lightheaded, as if he’d survived a near-fatal accident."

When you really get in your body and visualize how that feels (a speeding car in the intersection almost hits you, turbulence drops your plane, a bang outside sounds like someone's breaking in, etc), oh man 🥺. Dazed, breath knocked out, heart both pounding & still at the same time, freezing cold & burning up at the same time, mind racing & still & powerless all at once... poor Tilrey's body reminding him again exactly what he really felt like in all those mens' arms, no matter how he'd tried to get himself through it at the time 😢🥵

Thank you so much, and I’m so glad you’re enjoying the saga! ❤️ I love threading those reminders of past events throughout, because it means a lot to me to be able to show how Tilrey can gain power and agency while still remaining the person he was and having those awful flashbacks (though he does repress some of it, too).

Thanks for reminding me of that passage with Malsha! That sensation of sudden intense anxiety, of trauma-related stress, is so overwhelming and yet so hard to describe, especially to readers who haven’t experienced it. I feel like I’m constantly trying to find new words for it.

Whenever I get to the 13 months with Linden, I think it’ll take a looong time to get through! 🥺 A very long year for poor Tilrey.

[frecklystars]

Steve Blum said to you while hugging you that you can't have Starlight without his Little Starflower. That's pretty incredible... and you're still Megatron's Little Warrior. Knock Out would never hurt you, couldn't imagine it, you're his Starlight {sorry I don't remember if that's what he called you if I'm wrong} Keri you would not be unloved by these characters just because some dipshit treated you badly. Just because she hurt you does NOT mean your beloveds would hurt you too. She's delusional

Aw man... thank you so much 🥺💙 and yeah man you're right, I did get validation from Steve for my own self ship, that was probably the best day of my life... and I am so sad that I can't bring myself to believe even Steve Blum's own words of encouragement he said to me, I have been hurt that badly. I've just been so depressed for so long. I went through that emotional abuse almost every second that I was awake, for many months I did not catch a break from this person and I kept having the most intense amount of stress shoved onto my shoulders, whether it was from that person abusing me or just life in general knocking me down. It's very difficult for my traumatized brain to remember that I'm still lovable after I went through so many things trying to convince me that my boundaries were not worth respecting, that me expressing discomfort wasn't worth listening to, that me saying I was hurting was completely meaningless to those around me at that time.

But I hope I can regain that feeling of love from my F/Os. I am slowly but surely starting to remember the love from you guys, all of my friends I've missed, all of you lifting me back up. I am slowly starting to trust again, there was a long time when I was convinced everyone wanted to stab me in the back, and on my bad days I still have trouble with that fear. As for my F/Os, I am at a point where I'm not very scared of these characters anymore, or at least certain TF characters such as Starscream or Heatwave, I just feel so unworthy of them. I flinch at them sometimes, but most of the time I'm crying over them and just wishing I could take back what was ruined for me.

But you're right, logically I know deep down that they wouldn't hurt me just because someone else did, but I spent so long associating that person with these characters, it's going to take me a while to rewire my brain into remembering that I don't need to fear them or grieve them... because they aren't lost to me forever, right?? I know they are still deep in my heart somewhere, I am just too depressed/anxious to Feel it right now. But one day I really hope I will. Messages like this really help me feel better, I need all the reminders I can get. I don't know how long it will take, it could take me days or weeks or months or even years to feel better, but I know that with your support it is much more possible for me to feel hopeful about it. Thank you for sending this, broskii ❤

[septembersghost]

people acting like Riley actively hates/is ashamed of her family and took DJ to intentionally criticize them (you know what I mean. also making fun of addiction) and rooting for her to get the estate because hopefully she'll demolish Graceland have got to be the most miserable people on the internet

there's...a lot to unpack here and it makes me hurt/angry (not at you anon!), so let's see if i can even begin to respond to this coherently.

if anyone seriously thinks that this woman was brought up despising and ashamed of elvis and her family, there is something very very wrong with them, and they are willfully choosing to disrespect her and dismiss her as a person. this isn't only disturbed and upsetting in regards to her grandparents, but also her mother whom she and her grandmother and the rest of their loved ones are still grieving. (unfortunately i did see a couple of the addiction jokes...sometimes people online have no empathy whatsoever, and the illness that is addiction is SO mistreated/derided, it's horrific. do they think that's somehow a tribute to riley to weaponize a role she's playing against her grandfather, while simultaneously dismissing that it also affected her mother and her brother? what kind of inhumane outlook incites this? i just said this to a friend recently, but the fact that addiction is somehow tied to moralistic ideals and used to tear people down and shame them does nothing but cause further harm, and is an insidious and awful form of ableism. i know firsthand how badly our society treats illness/disability in and of itself - physical illness, chronic illness, mental illness, and that extends very much to addiction and the cruelty and blame that often accompanies it). i know there have been comments about her looks too (disguised as compliments, but ultimately belittling), which is just...despicable idek. the people who say things like that are so mired in their own cruelty and getting some power trip off of it that they lose touch with human emotion.

they also fall into the category of "they don't know what the fuck they're talking about and haven't bothered to learn anything real ever" that i mentioned before. 🙃

it is very strange growing up knowing about someone you never got the chance to know directly. i say this on the teeny tiny scale of not meeting one of my grandfathers because he passed before my parents even met. i've never even seen video or anything of him, just some still pictures and old stories, so there's a sense of sorrow there that is a missing connection rather than a tangible one (like i have with my other grandfather, whom i was blessed to know well). obviously riley's position is far more surreal and unfathomable because that history is potently famous and embedded in the fabric of america. she can see him in countless photographs and hours of footage (and home movies and things i'm sure the family has) and hundreds of recordings, and she could be told stories about him by all the people she grew up with who knew and loved him, but it's still not the same as getting the chance to know someone yourself. this doesn't mean you don't love them, though! this doesn't mean you don't want to honor and respect them! that's not only some nebulous legacy to her, that's her family!!!

in regards to graceland, i'm not comfortable discussing the legal aspect because it's a private family matter and it breaks my heart that it's been raked through the mud of the tabloids in the way that it has, and i have an intense dislike of the "source" choosing to exploit that family to the likes of tmz after the amount of tragedy they've already endured, but i will say this: graceland isn't just some museum, or even only a house. it's their home. the treasure that it is to the millions of people who've visited there, who treat it like something of a pilgrimage, has basically no analogue in pop culture/music history. there's no place quite like that, where the heart and soul of someone has been kept so vividly, where people gather to remember and honor that in the way that they do. the...nasty glee? what do we even call this? at the idea that she'd sell or destroy it is unconscionably messed up????? and completely disregarding her? thank goodness priscilla did what she did to protect and salvage it, we would not have that connection if she hadn't. lisa marie then dedicated a significant portion of her own life caring for and championing that as well. these women quite literally kept his legacy alive by honoring him and his music/artistry and that place they chose to share with the world. there is such value and beauty in that, and they gave what they gave for that because they love him and believe in its importance and that he deserves it. undermining that isn't about...mocking and hating e or whatever it is that drives that...it fundamentally is a kind of sacrilege to the meaning of it culturally, and an enormous sign of disrespect for these women and the countless other people who have dedicated so much love and soul and time in preserving it for the rest of us, and i hope the light of that is always carried forward.

[thegeekybaker]

Little Black Box

Characters - John Price X OC

Summary - 5 times Person A was afraid + 1 time they faced their fear.

Word Count - 1,033

Warnings - Angst, grieving

A/N - Another story written late at night I thought I’d share. Be warned, this one is full of angst! This is, once again, inspired by a prompt from @love-me-a-good-prompt 

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Ever since she and John had gotten engaged, Eliza was always a little scared to answer a random knock at her door, always fearing the worst in the back of her mind. She could picture Kyle standing there, a pained look on his face, those three awful words, “I’m so sorry,” tumbling out of his mouth. But that day had never come, even if her heart did beat a little harder when she got deliveries.

The first time that happened, CIA Director Kate Laswell, of all people, had shown up on her doorstep. Eliza knew she looked terrified by the way Kate talked to her, trying to assure her that nothing was wrong. Eliza invited her in, made tea for the both of them, and started an awkward, halting conversation that became easier the more tea she had. Kate never came out and said it, but Eliza knew she was taking her own measure of her. She knew John and Kate trusted each other greatly, that Kate knew he was a grown man able to make his own informed decisions, but she could tell Kate was looking out for John in her own way. And, after the tea and Kate’s seat had gone cold, Eliza was grateful John had someone in command who cared about him that much.

The second time, Simon had appeared in her doorway, almost immediately assuring her that John was ok, but injured. The brief seconds between her worried look at Simon and his assurance felt like an eternity. After dropping their son and daughter off with Eliza’s sister-in-law, Simon drove her to their main base just outside of London, explaining that John had been shot down while in a helicopter. Even though he was injured, he was a tough man, and he would be just fine. She was able to hold back her tears until she saw him in a hospital bed, dressings on an arm, a leg, his torso, small burns and cuts on his face, but she couldn’t help but laugh at the irony that his beard was still immaculate.

The third time came, and when Eliza opened the door with their youngest child on her hip, the smile she held for Kyle immediately fell when she saw his demeanor and his crisp dress uniform. She could see tear stains on his cheeks, and the little black box he held was the most dreadful thing she had ever seen. She still had a hard time remembering that day, the “I’m so sorry,” he almost sobbed sounded distorted, even after many years, but she does remember clinging to her children for dear life, her oldest son taking the youngest before she collapsed and her daughter helping her to the floor. They sat there in a heap for a what seemed like an eternity, clinging to each other and the dog tags from that loathsome little black box.

The fourth time was at John’s funeral. She could barely force herself to think that word, that that was what she going to. She did her best to stay strong for their children, but she felt like a ghost, a sad imitation of herself, where the only thing she felt was fear and immense grief. She knew the children wanted his casket to stay open during the service, but she was too afraid to look at him, worried she’d lose herself when their children needed her most. All she could do was sit with her youngest in her lap, grasping her oldest son’s hand, and try to remember that it wasn’t John’s.

The fifth time was a month after the funeral. The kids wanted to go by the cemetery to put up some new flowers for their father, but she couldn’t bring herself to go with them. She was scared to see his tombstone, scared to leave the house, dreading the day she came back and nothing smelled like him anymore. So Kyle took them, their favorite Uncle knowing the way by heart now. When they all arrived back at the house, Kyle had gotten them ice cream, and even though their cheeks shone with drying tears, they all had smiles on their faces.

Six months had gone by since John’s death when she finally willed herself to go see him. His birthday was coming up, and she knew their children would want to visit. Their daughter had already talked about baking a cake for them to have at the cemetery, and Eliza knew she needed to prepare herself, so she didn’t fall to pieces on the day. She didn’t trust herself to drive, fearing she might just turn around and go home, so she asked Simon to take her. He was steadfast and seemed to know how much she could take better than the others, so she knew he would help her finish this. Although she was weepy the entire ride there, Eliza managed to hold her tears back long enough to see John’s headstone, the words, “Beloved Husband, Father, and Soldier,” written on it, but the thing that drew a sob from her was seeing her youngest child’s favorite stuffed animal lovingly placed against the stone. It was one of the many John had gotten for her on his travels – a pastel pink bunny, with long, droopy ears and a fluffy tail, now slightly muddied by its time outdoors. She gently picked it up and held it close, sobbing loudly, desperately wishing it was John instead. Simon stood by her, glaring at anyone who dared look her way, and when her loud gasps had dwindled to quiet sniffs, he coaxed her up and away from the graveside, helping her adjust the bunny by the stone once more. That might have been the first time she visited John, but it wasn’t the last. The grief was always there, but, with the help of her family and found brothers, it eased over time, enough to where she would smile at the thought of John instead of breaking down in tears. Instead of being afraid when her youngest asked for stories of her father, she smiled gently at her, and proudly told her of the man named Johnathan Price. 

[v1olentdelights]

:) exactly calculates make it a little easier so we don't have to go through our entire brains to remember how to solve something. i've heard of that and i bet it sucks and you're right you can definitely push through this!! right?! it's like you don't want to do it but then you do it and it gets kind of easy when you're in the groove of it but it's fact of actually doing it.

yeah she's mostly not going back since she had problems with her college. and yes not everyone has to go through college if it's not something they need or want to do since it is a lot of money for like everything it's kind of insane. it is so tiring just doing simple tasks and thank you i hope so too!! yeah it'll take a bit of time to get used to it and hopefully no running to classes this year! ah i get that and definitely gotta cover all the bases!! grace yes!! you hate it but you're good at it but it sucks and is so boring

exactly it gives you time to let your brain to relax and process all the information you're learning!! it's so hard it feels like there isn't enough time in the day and if you have any pointers in balancing both school and writing i'm all ears

ah that's wonderful to hear hopefully you'll never see that again and i can say we have had no more possum encounters since!! however we now have a pidgon in our backyard that's recovering

i hear you grace i wanna do the same and that is a marvelous plan and if he forgets remind him of what he did while giving him the most evil stare at his stupid face

i hope you figure it all out soon!! college life will get easier after a few months and when you're all settled!! i get it i feels like life is just passing us by so quickly!! happy early birthday or late birthday grace!! and i'm going to say sorry about you're brother your family probably heard that so many time but i will say that you're brother was probably an amazing person and that i hope you're family took as much time they needed to grieve him but i hope you guys are celebrating him and his life. (if that was insensitive i'm so sorry i didn't mean it at all i'm not trying to be insensitive and you can yell at me if you need i'm still trying to learn). yes grace!! those bumps are just little things in the road of life that you will overcome and will help you learn and such to achieve your self. other than that i'm happy college is going well so far!!

Yes! I just have to actually force myself to do something. I mean I don't necessarily enjoy it, but I can do it and that makes me feel better. Technically I have to do an extra 60 minutes of math in the lab, but I just don't want to so I'm chilling instead of doing math.

I think that's good, her not pushing herself with this college. It is awful when you have people who don't want to work with you, especially for something as important as college. Honestly, I am glad I'm doing it, but to reiterate what both you and I said, it is a lot of money. I guess for some people it is worth it. Agreed! I literally show up like 15-20 minutes early to every class so I can get a good spot and so that I don't have to sit in-between people! :) The best way to describe it is school is school is school lol!

Ugh bestie, I wish I had good suggestions! I try to balance it out but what usually happens is I stay up really late to do my own personal writing. Though something I enjoy is doing like 20-30 minutes of work and then doing 20-30 minutes of personal writing! Sometimes it is nice to take a break from both though lol!

I have seen like 3 different skunks!! They have me paranoid now, but its okay. They don't ever see me. Yay on the no possums! Honestly though, I think pigeons are funny!

Sadly I haven't seen those guys again. However yesterday, there was a group of guys in suits, it is interview week so that's probably why. But anyways, most of the group went into the dining hall, not holding the door open for my roommate or I. But the last guy walked around us to get the door and hold it open for us. Its literally just base line gentleman behavior. But he like actually moved around us to hold the door open and not just walked away while pushing the door harder so it would stay open longer (I hope that made sense lol)

Me too lol! Thank you very much, its late now, but my birthday was pretty chill. And thank you, it's also weird because I never know what to say when someone is sorry, but thank you! That wasn't insensitive at all, it was perfect. We haven't done much, it feels like our family is on pause? I know things will start back up again at some point. And I agree, they will help later in life. Thank you!

How are you?

[peterlorres21stcentury]

Skyrim is probably my favorite game of all time (with Morrowind as a very close second). I love tinkering with the mechanics of these games just to see how badly I can break them. While you can't break Skyrim quite as much as you can with Morrowind, where you could become a literal flying god with the power of ridiculous potions and spells (I do recommend, btw, it's so fun), you can still accomplish many other things. For this replay, I wanted to try one of my favorite character types, a thief and assassin, but with a small twist.

This is my little Breton named Polo. Yes, he is named for my favorite pickpocket of "I Was An Adventuress" fame. His face is partially obscured by a hood because it's appropriate to his profession, but also mostly because I could not make him look so much like Peter Lorre as I wanted. Character creation has its limitations, but whatever, it doesn't matter. What does matter is he joined the Thieves' Guild and maxed out his pickpocket skill in short order. This means he can steal weapons and even clothes right off the victim's person without them noticing (don't ask me how, I always rationalized the Perfect Touch perk with "magic.")

I decided he should join the Dark Brotherhood too, but Polo is a kleptomaniacal, pathological case and a soft little thing at heart. He's much more interested in stealing than the fine art of murder. However, he does have a rather high skill in Illusion, which means he can influence other peoples' emotions. Calm spells will stop angry folks from attacking, and frenzy spells can make groups of enemies fight each other. This means he doesn't actually have to be the one with the knife--he can reverse-pickpocket a knife onto someone else, frenzy them, hide in a corner, and let someone else do the dirty work.

In some ways, this is even more evil than if he just did it himself. Case in point: the quest "Mourning Never Comes." Polo is tasked with eliminating one victim who had stolen a family's ancestral warhammer and absconded with a group of bandits in a Dwemer ruin (easy, just frenzy him and the bandits descend on him in seconds). But as a bonus, he was also asked to kill an innocent member of said unlucky family, as an act of poorly-conceived revenge from the client. (The full story of this family, the Shatter-Shields, is actually one of the saddest things in the game imo).

Now, Polo didn't have to kill her, but he just got back from the Dwemer ruin with the Shatter-Shield warhammer in tow, and he got an awful idea. That night, when everyone was asleep, he sneaked into their home and placed the ancestral weapon in the mother's hands, then frenzied the daughter Nilsine with a spell. Then he hid while the daughter attacked Tova, her own mother. Tova, already grieving the loss of a different daughter (killed offscreen as part of her backstory), proceeded to whack her surviving daughter over the head with her own family weapon before going back to sleep, perhaps too stunned by wtf just happened to fully process what she just did. The deed done, Polo sneaked out of the house, technically innocent of any murder as far as the game was concerned.

Tova's fate will be even more tragic, as the game checks the following: if her daughter is dead, the mother will later be found dead by her own hand. Thus Polo destroyed an entire family through pickpocketing. 🤷‍♀️