#if there’s a need for it somewhere in a group of people there’s a market for it

[whatudottu]

Do you ever wonder if there’s a market for mannequin/robot/life-sized doll bodies for Ectonurites who want to safely explore well-lit areas but don’t feel comfortable possessing living beings?

Oh that’s actually a pretty interesting idea!

What’s mostly been banging around in my head is that ectonurites have either a seasonal skin and grow a sunskin (like a winter coat but for higher UV seasons). Maybe perhaps they make like a reptile or snake and go into a shedding season but, their skin is a lot tougher and thicker than any Earth creature that until an ectonurite completely outgrows it (the telltale signs being ‘bursting from the seams’ rips and tears), it acts as a sun coat.

And like in either of these cases in the off-seasons where an ectonurite is shed, the most I really had going for sun protection was parasols and other clear sky umbrellas, which even in a world of possessable sunprotection would probably still be an ectonurite dominated market haha. Would sun-bodies (an attempt to amalgamate the mannequin/robot/doll to one term) be almost the extreme form of body modification or would it be like those regular rain umbrellas that have the extra see-through shawl to protect against side winds? Can you tell which generation an ectonurite is apart of based on what sun protection they use, parasols for the older generations and sun-bodies for the modern gen? Maybe some ectonurites can’t possess something for as long as others can, so despite wanting a sun-body they’re stuck with either parasols or just staying inside?

In other words, I didn’t think there was a market for it until you, dear anon, introduced the concept! And what a concept indeed. Haha, and ectonurites are probably already the most freeform aliens you can make a unique character out of, adding the idea of sun-bodies makes designing them all the more versatile.

I’d say it’d also depend on the surrounding sun having community, because a self-animating doll may trigger an uncanny valley feeling in probably not just humans, but any species replicated in the design of the doll; even among ectonurites. It’s one thing to know what a ghost looks like, it’s another to define something as ‘wrong’ and fear it for its differences, so just with any xeno community only do what you want when you are assured you are safe!

[asapeveryday]

Breath Me In

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader

Warnings: Smut (Fingering), weed, alcohol

Summary: Uconn’s end of summer party brings you all sorts of highs.

A/n: can you tell I like party settings??? Anyways. We need more fics of Paige receiving instead of always giving pls!! Someone please this girl!

Summer is coming to a close. Long August days turn to colder September nights, and the students of Uconn have mostly moved in for the new semester. A new year of college calls for a party.

Uconns annual end-of-summer party was an absolute staple to attend for seniors, richer students who lived in housing nearby often responsible for hosting. Summery rap and pop blasting, coolers and twisted tea by the gallons, string lights in big green backyards, patio furniture overrun by couples making out or slowly sobering up. It was a sight to behold, and you relished in the feeling of this, the beginning of the end of school.

When you make your way throughout the house, various people stop to talk to you, including the hostess herself.

Stella DeSantos is a trust fund girl who’s in her senior year for sports marketing, and this years lucky party organizer. She has the means, obviously, because the house is massive.

“So… gonna start the year off with some dick or what?” She laughs, already tipsy.

You just smile and shake your head. “I’m chill right now.” Is your reply. Honestly you just didn’t want to pull the ‘id rather have pussy’ card on her.

The girl swings an arm around you. “I could set you up with some really athletic guys if that’s your thing.” She hiccups. “Want a drink?”

She thrusts a mango white claw into your hand and you take it reluctantly. As much as you loved getting wasted the party was a bit too rowdy to feel comfortable. You were desperately searching for someone you knew well enough to hang out with that wasn’t already drunk, with no luck.

You stick by Stella for a while, standing by as she greets people and gets drunker by the minute. You’re still holding the same White-claw, though it’s mostly empty.

You’re scoping out the scene yourself, the house is filled with kids you’ve been in school with for the past years. Your gaze stops in the kitchen, where two girls reside. One tall with dark skin, hair slicked back and clothes baggy. You’d had classes with Aubrey Griffin before, she was intimidating but attractive.

The other girl was paler and slightly shorter, blonde hair tied back into a bun and glasses on her face.

“Paige!” Stella calls out, as if sensing your thoughts. She makes her way over to the two girls and you awkwardly follow behind. Everyone knows Paige Bueckers. She’s one of those students, everyone mostly likes her and she’s friends with all the right people. It puzzled you how someone so gay still attracted so many guys.

Stella talks to Aubrey and Paige, and they politely engage despite obviously being thrown off by how drunk she is. Their shared looks almost make you laugh. You take this as a chance to get a good look at Paige. She mostly stayed out of trouble or tough rumours, and kept to her main group of friends, so aside from her talent on the court you knew almost nothing.

You let yourself stare at her, noting her blue eyes, long lashes and wide smile. She carried herself confidently, but looked uncomfortable.

Finally she turns to meet your eye, and when her tongue flashes out to wet her lips you physically feel something in your stomach drop.

“You her babysitter or something?” She smirks.

“You’d think she knows how much she can handle by now.” You scoff. Stella barely notices, fully talking to Aubrey.

Paige’s eyes dart to the drink in your hand. “Good luck finding a ride home tonight.”

Before you can respond, maybe by telling her your name or sparking better conversation, Stella’s attention is drawn somewhere else and she starts to drag you away.

You turn to get one last look at Paige, and internally celebrate when your eyes meet.

-

As the summer sun finally began to set, it got a little too cold for everyone to be outside. The inside of the house was absolutely packed, the music was louder and the air was thicker. The smell of smoke and sound of people was starting to irritate you, but for whatever reason you didn’t want to leave just yet.

Stella was nowhere to be found and you were sitting on the kitchen counter next to some other girls, quietly sipping some drink while listening in to conversations. The original plan of staying mostly sober was ruined by your boredom, and though you weren’t drunk you felt significantly warmer and a little more confident.

“Oh, it’s you again.” A voice says. You turn to see it’s Paige and your heart skips a beat.

“I have a name.” You reply, not caring if you come off rude. She doesn’t seem to care either, just raising her eyebrows at you. “And it is?”

You tell her your name and she repeats it to herself with a smile. “I’m Paige.”

“I figured.” You laugh. The alcohol was making everything seem like less of a deal, had you talked to her more before you probably wouldn’t have been so casual.

“You drunk?” She asks, leaning against the counter across from you. At this angle you’re pretty much looking down at her, she looks cuter with her eyes wide and head tilted slightly upwards. You almost let your imagination get ahead of you.

“Getting there. You?”

Paige shakes her head no. “You don’t seem like much of a drinker.”

With a shrug, you say “This party is less fun than I thought it would be.”

“I’m gonna head outside if you’re tryna come.” She shrugs back.

You hop off of the counter and are reminded of the fact that Paige isn’t short. She seems happy that she’s not looking up at you anymore.

“Sure, why not.” You smile.

She leads you to the backyard and the sudden quiet is surprising. The music is muffled and the air is fresher, it’s a beautiful night and the yard is empty for the two of you. Paige heads straight for the pool, sitting down by the edge of the deep end and taking off her shoes, letting her legs dangle in the water. You join her and do the same.

“So you came to a party and you’re not drinking or getting high?” You ask her.

“Ah ah,” she smirks. “I’m getting high for sure, jus had to be a little sneaky. You can keep a secret, right?” Paige tilts her head at you, and you almost melt right there and then.

“I’m great at keeping secrets.” You eye her, tilting your head like she does. “But can all those people?” You gesture to the kids inside the house.

“Everyone in there is gonna be too drunk to remember me sneaking out for a blunt with a girl.” She finally breaks eye contact, reaching into her pocket for a tin of pre-rolled blunts.

She said ‘with a girl’ like her being with you could be a topic of conversation. The thought makes your mind race.

When Paige lights up and gets the first hit, her whole composure loosens.

The blue from the pool water reflecting onto her face, the slight glow of the blunt against her lips, the way she blows the smoke afterwards. It’s driving you insane.

You stare at your legs in the water, her pale ones next to yours. The night is beautiful. She’s beautiful. You wonder if she’ll remember anything tomorrow.

“Want sum?” Paige interrupts your thoughts, holding out the blunt. You know you shouldn’t mix weed with alcohol, but your heart is buzzing and her lips had already been on it, so you can’t say no.

Taking it from her nimble fingers (which you cursed yourself for even noticing) you inhale, letting the smoke fill you up before letting out a long breath, trying to ignore her sharp eyes on you.

“I’m surprised I haven’t noticed you around before.” She says, taking back the blunt. You let the statement linger in the air. For every hit you take, she takes three. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are already slightly pink.

“Are you not the noticing type?” You ask.

Paige’s eyes meet yours. “Are you?”

You laugh and take the blunt from her, holding the smoke in before tilting your head back and blowing it into the night sky.

“I notice a lot of things.” you say, glancing at her lips before meeting her eyes again.

“Oh yeah?” She says quietly, analyzing your features. If it weren’t for the drinks and the weed, you would’ve felt like prey under her watch.

“Yeah.” You match her tone.

She’s closer than you remember her being. The air smells like weed and chlorine, but she smells like summer.

Nobody says anything, you just keep passing the blunt.

“What was your first time getting high like?” You ask her.

“Freshman year, me and some other girls on my team decided we were gonna do it together.” She chuckles and shakes her head. “Don’t know why we started with edibles, but we were still high the next morning.”

“Oh shit.” You laugh.

“Yeah,” she huffs “and we had practice that afternoon, must’ve gone through like 3 bottles of eye drops each. What about you?”

“Senior year of high school.” You cringe and she smiles at your expression. “My girlfriend- at the time, was kind of addicted. Didn’t seem like a big deal then, but she begged me to smoke and I did. It was whatever.”

“Girlfriend?” She asks.

“You’re surprised?” You chuckle. “Shit, you really don’t notice anything.”

“Shut up.” She flicks your shoulder. “Any girlfriend now?”

“Fuck no.”

“I feel that.” She blows smoke into the crisp air. There’s a moment of comfortable silence, you looking into the water and her looking at you, before she finally says “Can I try something?”

“Like what?” You ask.

You can tell her thinking is slightly hazy, she’s moving slower and her eyes are tired, it’s attractive.

“Lemme jus show you…don’t freak.”

Paige takes a hit, then leans into you. In an instance her lips are on yours, prying you open and exhaling smoke into your mouth, then she pulls away. You resist the urge to choke, but manage to exhale smoothly. Your lips tingle where she made contact with you, and you feel your face get red at her expression. Paige is practically entranced.

“Little warning would’ve been better next time.” You cough.

“We can try again if you want.” She smirks, and you roll your eyes.

Once again Paige takes a hit then leans into you, this time placing her hand on your face. She huffs the smoke inside your mouth and you gladly take it, now knowing what to expect. When she pulls away you don’t turn your head, you just blow out the smoke, letting it cloud both your vision and hers. When it clears she’s staring dead at your lips.

Her lips meet yours again, this time without any weed. She’s taking her time with you, tongue exploring your mouth attentively, one hand still on your face while the other finds your thigh.

Her hands are calloused and controlled against your skin, her glasses bump your face as you kiss her. Her lips are soft.

You let your hands wander too, dancing under her black t-shirt and gripping her waist. You can feel her abs, toned from her athletic lifestyle. You can only imagine the things you could do with her abs alone.

Her hand leaves your thigh and meets yours under her shirt, gripping your wrist she guides you to her sports bra, letting you get under it and feel her breasts.

She sighs into your mouth when you lightly pinch her nipples, her usually confident voice now almost needy.

Paige’s kisses trail down to your neck, licking and biting into your soft skin. You let your fingers ghost against her until they reach the waistband of her sweatshorts.

“Can I?” You whisper, eager to feel her.

“Fuck, yes.” She murmurs against you, sucking beautifully painted hickeys from your neck to your collarbone.

When your fingers rub her through her boxers you can hear her breathing change, and it’s doing things to you. Rubbing slow circles on her clit, you feel yourself getting wet.

“You let every girl down your pants, Paige?” You mumble. She stares up at you, eyes wide and bloodshot.

You relish in the way she bites her lip when your pace quickens, you can feel her slick through the boxer briefs and you can’t help but tease her. “So wet already…”

Finally you let your hand slip into her briefs, finding her entrance and teasing around her hole. Her hips jerk upwards, giving you room to move, offering herself to you. “Stop talking.” She grumbles, cheeks pink with embarrassment.

You connect with her lips again as your fingers finally dip inside of her, causing her to let a soft moan out. You realize suddenly that anyone inside the house could come outside and see you two, but with all the weed and alcohol you couldn’t care less, you couldn’t stop now, not when Paige was grinding against your fingers and letting out sweet whimpers into your mouth, her hands feeling you all over.

Breaking the kiss is the best decision you make, because you can actually see her. Her face is perfect, hair falling out of her bun, glasses sliding down her nose, her expression a sexy, needy pout, her tongue darting out to lick her lips.

You pick up the pace, pumping your fingers in and out of her and grinning as her whimpers get a little louder. The noise of her slick, her voice, the crickets outside and the muffled music is almost magical to you. Her blue eyes shining and glossy from the weed and the reflection of the water.

“Fuck.” She murmurs, covering her mouth. “Oh, fuck.”

Her hips are violently bucking now as you curl your fingers inside of her and use your thumb to apply pressure to her clit. Her eyes are screwed shut now, and you can tell she’s close.

“Gonna cum for me Paige? Cmon baby, let it out.”

She calls out your name, legs open and pussy throbbing against your fingers. Finally she loosens around you, reaching her orgasm.

She’s still clinging to your body and catching her breath when you pull your hand out from her shorts, licking your fingers like you’ve just finished a meal. Paige’s eyes are trained on your lips wrapped around the same digits that were just inside of her.

You just smile at her staring. “You good?” You ask her. She just chuckles and takes off her shirt. “I’m good. Might needa cool down though.” Paige eyes you as she slips into the pool.

You laugh and take your shirt off too, slipping into the cold water with her.

It’s a good night, filling your lungs with her, breathing Paige in.

[sweetbans29]

Eyes On You - CC

Pairing: Caitlin Clark x Reader

Summary: You catch Caitlin's eye during a game (based off of THIS request)

Warnings: fluff, flirting, ever so slightly suggestive

Word Count: 3.2k

Sweetbans Masterlist

AN: Okay but tell me you haven't gone somewhere and actually imagined this happened because you would be lying...

It is a Tuesday afternoon when your friends practically beg you to go to the women's basketball game.

"Come on, it will be fun," one of your friends says. You shake your head no without looking up from your biology paper.

"I need to finish this paper, it is due Friday and I am nowhere near close to done," you say, typing a sentence only to delete it immediately after. For some reason, this research paper is just not coming together.

"We already got you a ticket, you are going." Your roommate states knowing the real reason you don't want to go and it has nothing to do with your paper.

The truth is there is a girl on the team who you have been crushing on for a while now. The two of you are in the same business marketing class. She caught your eye pretty early on. The two of you ended up sitting next to each other and would make small talk whenever you got to class. It was never anything major but it was always the highlight of your day. You would get back to your room and immediately tell your roommate about your little conversation with the star athlete.

That was the thing, when you were in class she wasn't the superstar, she was just Caitlin. She would make you laugh with some silly little comment and you would talk to her like she wasn't the biggest person at the school. She made you feel seen and you made her feel heard.

You close your laptop and give your roommate the death stare. She knew you would say no but got you a ticket anyway - knowing you would never go to the game without being forced. This is your roommate's push to finally show your interest outside of your small talk in class. If you were to ask her, she was sick of hearing you always talk about Caitlin and never taking action to show her you actually liked her.

You give in, knowing your roommate isn't going to budge and will literally drag you there with her bare hands.

The group of you head back to your apartment and get ready. You opt for a simple look - jeans and a Hawkeye hoodie. Your friends on the other hand were dressed to impress. You check yourself out in the mirror and question if you should change. You decided against changing and instead grabbed a Hawkeye ballcap, hoping to blend in with the crowd and not be seen by your favorite player.

All of you decided to walk to the game, it wasn't more than 20 minutes away from your apartment. The closer you got to the stadium, the more nervous you felt. You have no idea why you are nervous, it is not like she is going to see you.

When you get there, you follow behind your group of friends. It is all kind of overwhelming - the crowd and how many people are here and how decked out in gear they are.

You are too caught up in the scene to realize that your group is being ushered to your seats. This is your first Iowa women's basketball game and you didn't realize how crazy your school went for this team. You know that there has been a lot of traction around Caitlin Clark and how she is changing the game for women. But what you are seeing, is truly amazing the effect she is having on people.

When you all get to your seats, you are mortified. At no point did your roommate or any of your other friends mention that you were sitting courtside. Having the perfect view of the court is nice when it comes to watching the game but not when it comes to hiding from your marketing crush.

You sit and glare at your roommate, who ignores you quite easily as she is in conversation with one of the guys you came with.

You pull your ball cap down and wish you could sink through your chair. This will be fine. You will be fine. There is no way she is going to notice you when she is focused on the game. You keep telling yourself this.

The team makes its way onto the court - the crowd goes wild. You watch as they come jogging out, starting to warm up. Your eyes scan the crowd for no.22. You see a few other girls that are familiar from classes and make a mental note to cheer them on. When you finally find Caitlin, your heart skips a beat.

She looks so good. This is 100% her in her element. The once so laid-back girl, now locked in and ready for what the next 2 hours hold. You are mesmerized by how calm she looks - like the thousands of fans here shouting her name are nonexistent.

Your eyes remain on her while they warm up. When their warm-ups come off and they take the court for the beginning of the game, something shifts in her.

You turn over to ask one of your friends a question about the team, missing the first glance that Caitlin gets of you sitting courtside for her game. She turns over to Kate, who is standing right next to her.

"That's her," is all Caitlin says and gives a little point to you. Kate follows her point to a girl who looks like she doesn't want to be seen. That's hard to do when you are literally sitting on the court.

Your attention goes back to the game as the girls go up for the tip-off. When the Hawkeyes take it, you feel yourself getting into the game. No one really knew you grew up playing in middle school and high school. You were never good enough to play in college but you enjoyed the sport. You left that part of you when you left high school.

It's not even 2 minutes into the game when you feel eyes on you. You turn to see your friends staring at you. You look back at them confused. Your roommate uses her head to signal to something on the court. You look and are surprised to see Caitlin looking right at you.

You feel a heat creep into your cheeks as you just stare at her. See it would have been a good idea to smile or nod. Hell, even wave but you just sat there staring at her with a blank expression.

She just smiles and lets out a little chuckle as she turns back to the game. She gets the ball and shoots a logo three no more than 10 seconds after you made a fool of yourself. When she turns to the crowd to celebrate, she points directly at you and then holds up a three with her other hand. Your roommate elbows your side as you hide your face.

This was everything you were terrified of, being seen.

"It looks like she has someone to play for," one of your friends gives you a little nudge.

"Guys there is no need to make this bigger than it is, she could be pointing to anyone over here, it isn't a big deal," you say in hopes that you will also believe your lies.

Your roommate scoffs. "You keep telling that to yourself sweetheart, she knows, we know and by the looks of it, the team also knows," she says as she nods over to the girls on the court.

All of your heads turn to see Caitlin, pointing to you again but this time talking to more girls on her team. They all look at you with smiles then break from their huddle and head back to their spots on the court.

Caitlin is running straight in your direction.

"Watch," you say referring to how you are not the center of attention to anyone.

Caitlin doesn't stop where she is supposed to be posted but rather runs straight to you with her hand out. Your hand comes out to give her a high five.

"Glad you could finally make it to one of my games," she says with a little smirk. "Only halfway through the season, better late than never." She gives you a wink before heading back to her post.

You feel like you could pass out. There is no way she just came up to you, mid-game, to be a little flirt.

"Looks like your girl Caitlin now has someone to dedicate her plays to," one of your friends teases you.

"Oh shut up," you say but that doesn't take away from the butterflies that build in the pit of your stomach.

Everyone turns back to the game and as you watch your team fight to keep the lead.

It seems like in every other play, Caitlin is turning her head to give you a smile or a smirk. You want time to stop so you can walk up to her and tell her to get her head in the game. There is no way she should be this distracted when the score is as close as it is.

The next play has a girl from the other team, pushing Caitlin causing her to fall on her backside right in front of you. You lean down to stop her from rolling into the chairs, your hand coming to her lower back and right arm as she slides right into you. When your hand touches her skin, you accidentally shock her - sending a little electrical current running through both of you.

One of her teammates comes to help her up and a foul is called. Before she goes to throw her free throws she turns to you, saying, "Thanks, babe."

Your friends, yet again, turn to look at you and you just wave them off.

The buzzer goes off as halftime commences. You are scrolling on your phone when someone approaches you.

"Hi, I was asked to come give this to you," the woman says as she hands you jersey. You give her a confused look, not taking it, but rather just looking at the article of clothing she is holding.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what you are talking about," you say, genuinely confused.

"I was told by one of the players to give this to you to wear for the rest of the game," she says, signaling you to take the jersey. It is your roommate who takes it from the woman and lets her know you will put it on. The woman walks away and your roommate full-on turns to face you.

"You are putting on this jersey," she says, throwing it at you. You hear her mumble, "Just letting the poor woman stand there when she has better things to do. All you had to do was take the jersey." She seems annoyed at how naive you are being.

You look at the jersey that was just given to you - Clark 22 printed on the back. You slip it over your hoodie and slip your hat back on. You aren't going to deny the feeling you get when you first slip it on. And it is not like you are the only one wearing the number 22, there is a stand full of fans sporting the number as your marketing crush is the school's star.

When the team heads back out at the end of halftime, Caitlin's eyes go straight to you, making sure you got her little gift. She is pleased to see you wearing it.

As the third quarter begins, the team comes out hot, putting up 2 threes in the first minute. You are cheering them on louder than before.

After the next play, Caitlin comes your way.

"Much better," is all she says as she gives you another wink. You just smile at her, bringing your bottom lip in between your teeth. Caitlin's eyes go from yours, down to your lips. The smile she once wore, was now replaced with something between annoyance and longing. Every fiber of her being is telling her to walk up to you and pull that pretty little lip of yours out from your teeth and tell you that your lips are only for her to bite.

She finally looks away, realizing how much you are distracting her from the game. Kate runs up to Caitlin and whispers something into her ear, Caitlin nods and heads to grab water from the bench as the other team calls a time-out.

By the time the fourth quarter rolls around, you feel like you belong courtside. Your friends are still giving you a hard time whenever Caitlin looks your way or comes over to make a little comment to you. The game is nearing its end when Caitlin comes over to pass in the ball after a foul. She is standing right in front of you, so close you could touch her if you wanted.

She takes a small step back, her leg brushing up against yours. She steps up to the line and leans forward just enough to stick her ass out in your direction. This whole time, she has been the one in control. All that control went out the window when you bit your lip causing the super start to internally lose it. Her standing where she was, right in front of you, was no accident - she wanted you in the palm of her hand, not the other way around.

And boy did she have you. You sit there and just admire her body. Checking out her legs and how they are perfectly shaped. How her arms are beautifully toned and how she looks all around is incredible.

The game ends and the Hawkeyes take the win. The team rushes onto the court and begins celebrating with those who finished out the quarter.

You and your friends stand, stretching your legs. You had no intention of staying to see Caitlin after the game, thinking the team would go out to celebrate. You plan on giving Cait back her jersey the next class you two have together.

Your back is facing the court as you are waiting for your friends to grab their stuff when you feel a tug on your arm. You spin around and come face to face with none other than Miss Caitlin Clark.

She has a smile on her face and without warning, she grabs your waist and kisses you. Time stops and all the people in the background fade away. Your hands come up to her face as they cup her cheeks. You feel her bring your body closer to hers as she deepens the kiss. She gives your bottom lip a little bite as you break apart.

You stand there speechless. Dreaming of this kiss since the beginning of the semester, never in a million years imagined it would happen like this.

The most radiant smile is on her face. She leans in closer to you.

"My number is on the inside of this jersey. Call me, will you?" She asks as she looks at you for a response.

"Of course," is all you can say, still in shock about what has just happened.

"Good," she says. "I'll be waiting." She lets you go and gives your friends a wave before heading back to the team.

The whole walk home your friends can't stop talking about what had just unfolded before them. Some of them are as shocked as you are, while others are already planning your wedding.

When you get back to your room, you shoot Caitlin a text so she has your number.

[CC: I'm glad you didn't take long to shoot me a message}

{CC: Are you busy tomorrow? Want to work on our marketing paper if you haven't finished it yet?]

[You: That sounds great, I am quite behind 🤣]

[CC: Well I don't know if I will be much help, but I would rather do it with you than alone]

[You: I'm for it, meet at noon?]

She sends you her address. You like it and put your phone down to head to bed. Before you do, you hear your phone go off one more time. Grabbing it, you see one last message from Caitlin.

[CC: Sleep tight babe]

The next morning you wake up and go for a run. You needed to do something to help with the nerves that began to build just thinking about seeing Caitlin today.

You get back, shower, then get ready to meet her at her place. You make sure to stick her jersey in your bag to return to her and head out the door.

It only takes you about 15 minutes to walk to her apartment. When you get there you knock on the door.

She opens it with a huge smile, "Hi."

She lets you, opening her arms for a hug which you gladly shuffle into. It surpassed the length that friends would hug. As you pull away you decide to give her cheek a little peck.

After doing so is the first time you see her blush. You smile at her and continue to walk into her apartment.

The two of you decide to work on her couch - both struggling to get through this paper. You took frequent breaks talking about when you both started liking each other and more about your lives outside of marketing.

As you take another break, you grab your phone and decide to look her up only to find edits of you and her from the night before.

Your cheeks heat up immediately as you hide your face in your hands.

"What?" She says trying to look over at your screen. You hand her your phone and she laughs a little, followed by an 'awww'.

"I can't believe there are people out there who are making full-on edits of us." You say with a little groan - the spotlight is not your thing.

"They are cute," she says as she keeps scrolling through your phone. "Look at this one!"

You lean into her and look at what she is talking about. It is a clip of you before halftime, wearing your Hawkeye sweatshirt then jumps to after halftime when you are wearing Caitlin's jersey.

"I am sure glad I gave you my jersey," she says with a little smirk.

"That reminds me, I brought it back for you," you say, moving to grab it from your bag. She grabs your arm and brings you back into her.

"That one is for you to wear to the rest of my games," she says like it is a known fact. You decide to tease her a bit.

"And what makes you think I want to go watch you play again?" You ask.

She gives you a little pout - which literally melts you.

"Because you are my new good luck charm," she says and leans in closer to you. Your breathing becomes uneasy.

"But you don't need luck," you say just above a whisper. Your eyes going in between hers and her lips.

"You're right..." she says, also looking at your lips. Her eyes make their way back to yours. "I don't need luck, but I need you."

She leans in and kisses you. This kiss is much more reserved than the one she planted on you last night. There was no rush or urgency in this kiss, it was quite pleasant.

You inhale and bring your forehead to hers.

"I am all yours."

AN: I really like how this came out! Let me know what you think! And as always, thank you for your love and support 🤍

[acti-veg]

Leather vs. Pleather: 8 Myths Debunked

Since we are all beyond tired of seeing the same regurgitated leather posts every day, I've compiled and briefly debunked some of the most common myths peddled about leather and pleather… So hopefully we can all move on to talk about literally anything else.

1) Leather is not sustainable.

Approximately 85% of all leather (almost all leather you'll find in stores) is tanned using chromium. During the chrome tanning process, 40% of unused chromium salts are discharged in the final effluents, which makes it's way into waterways and poses a serious threat to wildlife and humans. There are also significant GHG emissions from the sheer amount of energy required to produce and tan leather.

Before we even get the cow's hide, you first need to get them to slaughter weight, which is a hugely resource-intensive process. Livestock accounts for 80% of all agricultural land use, and grazing land for cattle likely represents the majority of that figure. To produce 1 pound of beef (and the subsequent hide), 6-8 pounds of feed are required. An estimated 86% of the grain used to feed cattle is unfit for human consumption, but 14% alone represents enough food to feed millions of people. On top of that, one-third of the global water footprint of animal production is related to cattle alone. The leather industry uses greenwashing to promote leather as an eco-friendly material. Leather is often marketed as an eco-friendly product, for example, fashion brands often use the Leather Working Group (LWG) certificate to present their leather as sustainable. However, this certification (rather conveniently) does not include farm-level impacts, which constitute the majority of the negative environmental harm caused by leather.

2) Leather is not just a byproduct.

Some cows are raised speciifically for leather, but this a minority and usually represents the most expensive forms of leather. This does not mean that leather is just a waste product of beef and dairy, or that it is a completely incidental byproduct; it is more accurate to call leather a tertiary product of the beef and dairy industries. Hides used to fetch up to 50% of the total value of the carcass, this has dropped significantly since COVID-19 to only about 5-10%, but this is recovering, and still represents a significant profit margin. Globally, leather accounts for up to 26% of major slaughterhouses’ earnings. Leather is inextricably linked to the production of beef and dairy, and buying leather helps make the breeding, exploitation and slaughter of cows and steers a profitable enterprise.

3) Leather is not as biodegradable as you think.

Natural animal hides are biodegradable, and this is often the misleading way leather that sellers word it. "Cow hide is fully biodegradable" is absolutely true, it just purposely leaves out the fact that the tanning process means that the hide means that leather takes between 25 and 40 years to break down. Even the much-touted (despite it being a tiny portion of the market) vegetable-tanned leather is not readily biodegradable. Since leather is not recyclable either, most ends up incinerated, or at landfill. The end-of-life cycle and how it relates to sustainability is often massively overstated by leather sellers, when in fact, it is in the production process that most of the damage is done.

4) Leather is not humane.

The idea that leather represents some sort of morally neutral alternative to the evils of plastic is frankly laughable, at least to anyone who has done even a little bit of research into this exploitative and incredibly harmful industry. Cows, when properly cared for, can live more than fifteen years. However, most cows are usually slaughtered somewhere around 2-3 years old, and the softest leather, most luxurious leather comes from the hide of cows who are less than a year old. Some cows are not even born before they become victim to the industry. Estimates vary, but according to an EFSA report, on average 3% of dairy cows and 1.5 % of beef cattle, are in their third-trimester of pregnancy when they are slaughtered.

Slaughter procedures vary slightly by country, but a captive bolt pistol shot to the head followed by having their throats slit, while still alive, is standard industry practice. This represents the “best” a slaughtered cow can hope for, but many reports and videos exist that suggest that cows still being alive and conscious while being skinned or dismembered on the production line is not uncommon, some of these reports come from slaughterhouse workers themselves.

5) Leather often involves human exploitation.

The chemicals used to tan leather, and the toxic water that is a byproduct of tanning, affect workers as well as the environment; illness and death due to toxic tanning chemicals is extremely common. Workers across the sector have significantly higher morbidity, largely due to respiratory diseases linked to the chemicals used in the tanning process. Exposure to chromium (for workers and local communities), pentachlorophenol and other toxic pollutants increase the risk of dermatitis, ulcer nasal septum perforation and lung cancer.

Open Democracies report for the Child Labour Action Research Programme shows that there is a startlingly high prevalence of the worst forms of child labour across the entire leather supply chain. Children as young as seven have been found in thousands of small businesses processing leather. This problem is endemic throughout multiple countries supplying the global leather market.

6) Pleather is not a ‘vegan thing’.

Plastic clothing is ubiquitous in fast fashion, and it certainly wasn’t invented for vegans. Plastic leather jackets have been around since before anyone even knew what the word vegan meant, marketing department have begun describing it as ‘vegan leather’ but it’s really no more a vegan thing than polyester is. Most people who wear pleather are not vegan, they just can’t afford to buy cow’s leather, which remains extremely expensive compared to comparable fabrics.

It is striking how anti-vegans consistently talk about how ‘not everyone can afford to eat plant-based’ and criticise vegans for advocating for veganism on that basis, yet none of them seem to mind criticisms directed at people for wearing a far cheaper alternative than leather. You can obviously both be vegan and reduce plastic (as we all should), but vegans wear plastic clothing for the same reason everyone else does: It is cheaper.

7) Plastic is not the only alternative.

When engaging in criticism of pleather, the favourite tactic seems to be drawing a false dilemma where we pretend the only options are plastic and leather. Of course, this is a transparent attempt to draw the debate on lines favourable to advocates of leather, by omitting the fact that you can quite easily just buy neither one.

Alternatives include denim, hemp, cork, fiber, mushroom fiber, cotton, linen, bamboo, recycled plastic, and pinatex, to name a few. There are exceptions in professions like welding, where an alternative can be difficult to source, but nobody needs a jacket, shoes or a bag that looks like leather. For most of us, leather is a luxury item that doesn’t even need to be replaced at all.

8) Leather is not uniquely long-lasting.

The longevity of leather is really the only thing it has going for it, environmentally speaking. Replacing an item less often means fewer purchases, and will likely have a lower environmental impact than one you have to replace regularly. Leather is not unique in this respect, however, and the idea that it is, is mostly just effective marketing.

As your parents will tell you, a well-made denim jacket can last a lifetime. Hemp and bamboo can both last for decades, as can cork and pinatex. Even cotton and linen can last for many years when items are looked after well. While some materials are more hard wearing than others, how long an item will last is mostly the result of how well made the product is and how well it is maintained, not whether or not the item is leather.

[overdecorated-furniture]

Dead Parents - How to avoid them.

We are all very familiar with the notion of dead parents in fiction. For example, Harry Potter’s parents are dead before the first book even starts. Or in Portrait of Dorian Gray, the protagonist is brought up by an absentee and very neglectful grandfather. It’s a trope used again and again. And it does kind of work. It certainly allows your young protagonists the opportunity to gain agency and find their own way in the adventure thrown at them. But it’s also rather predictable. As a reader, we don’t sympathise as much because it’s such a used trope.

So, here are some of my thoughts about how to avoid the dead parents trope, and still propel your characters into the action.

Kill Someone Else.

I know, violence isn���t supposed to be the answer. But characters don’t only have close relationships with their parents. If your plot centres around a revenge quest for a dead loved one, it doesn’t have to be a parent.

Siblings who got caught in the crossfire trying to protect your MC, or an aunt/uncle they were close to being poisoned works just as well. Best friends are also a useful source of grief, and the fact it’s someone outside the family perhaps gives your MC more of a push. Equally, a significant other may work, although that is a used trope too. It might even just be a beloved pet.

Use their Morals.

People in the real world do not simply act out of revenge for the death of a loved one. Character morals can be just as powerful a motive for action, and Young people in particular are just beginning to discover what matters to them, and so it feels at its most important.

Perhaps your MC feels that the magic system in your fantasy world does not allow for people with disabilities to have access, and so uses that as their springboard. Or in an apocalypse setting, the desire to protect fellow humans against a threat may act as the MC’s launch pad for setting up a safe base somewhere. Concerns over equality, safety, climate change, government choices and even things as small as how cereal is marketed can motivate a character into changing their world/current situation.

Create Conflict.

Arguments, breakups, scrappy fistfights with someone in a back alley. Conflict is one of the spokes of a story, as it creates opportunities for moving the plot forward, and can hold the characters back from achieving their aims. Using this to start your character’s story arc makes for an explosive scene, and allows immediate sympathy with the situation they are in. Everyone argues, has had someone they care about walk out of their lives, or has at least been punched, so the familiarity of a minor but important conflict helps the reader associate with the character, as well as setting up any skills the character has or may need in order to defeat the foe at the climax of the story.

Parental Encouragement.

In a good family situation, parents will want to support their children and young people in achieving their goals. And the same can be true in stories. Perhaps your character wants to learn to play hockey, for example. Their parents can very easily encourage them to join a practice group, help them buy kit, and encourage them to play in matches. Having a supportive adult can mean as much to an MC as having said support removed, and although this doesn’t work for epic fantasy revenge quests, it does create a welcoming atmosphere for a reader.

Those are the main ones I can think of off the top of my head. Do add in comments/tags any you know of!

Happy writing!🌿

[fatphobiabusters]

yall are weird as hell for making weight loss seem impossible to people dying from obesity when thermodynamics says otherwise. energy cannot be created from nowhere. if you are eating less energy than your body needs to move and function, and you are still living, then your body needs to get the energy from somewhere. and guess what the whole purpose for fat is! before you promote laziness and giving up, go back to biology class bae xx

I'm about to fall asleep after a long day of driving. 6+ hours on the road with my German friend who's an international student at my university. We stopped at a fun restaurant in the middle of no where and she got to try gator tail for the first time. We felt the humid sea breeze of the ocean as we laughed and talked over our lunch.

We drove through Tampa and walked along the water at night.

I taught her about American road trip games like "I spy." She laughed until she had tears in her eyes at my pretend southern accent. We ate ice cream and saw such cute candies as we explored.

She celebrated my birthday with me and even made me a reese's peanut butter cake for my birthday! The vanilla pudding she used for the filling and icing was delicious.

Tomorrow we're going to a nice restaurant with my dad to celebrate my birthday. I'll be showing her my hometown, we'll take pictures at the beach in pretty dresses, and she's excited to visit an Italian market that has the type of bread she loves yet can't get at grocery stores here.

We talked about our childhoods and families, ate pasta for dinner at midnight because we didn't get to where we're staying until 11 PM, and we had an amazing day sharing our cultures with each other.

I happened to look on Tumblr before falling asleep after such a fun day and saw this ask. I looked at your profile too.

And all I can think as I lay here excited about the fun day I have planned tomorrow with my friend is that I hope you get a better hobby than trying to harass and oppress a marginalized group on a dying website with your sad blog you use to hurt both yourself and the people around you.

I actually have a life outside of social media, and I hope you get one too.

-Mod Worthy

[edenfenixblogs]

I don’t think most non-Jews understand how disappointed we are in the left right now. How completely abandoned we’ve become. How our contributions to progress for other groups have been erased or disavowed or hidden. How the actual tangible things that Jews have contributed to black rights and civil rights are being ignored. How we’re being told we contribute and have contributed nothing.

How we are being told that the world has been kind to us when it never has. As if my mom didn’t grow up getting called a Kike and getting beat up for being Jewish. How I thought I had friends until I caught them saying “xyz was beautiful until Jews showed up.” How people told me I was pretty “for a Jew.” How I grew up hearing stories about bombs being set off in Israel in buses and markets. How I couldn’t even go two weeks without hearing that and how nobody cared and somehow, every time that happened, the whole world became more hostile to me for some reason.

I just don’t understand. I don’t understand what leftists are doing. Or why. I hate that I have to say—of course, I support a free and self determined Palestine (which I truly do)—in order for you to decide I’m worthy of care and support.

We showed up for you. All of you. And the entire movement is abandoning us at best or targeting us at worst. Celebrating our deaths. Saying we deserved it. How are we supposed to trust you ever again? How are we supposed to feel safe ever again?

A very few select people who are in my life have taken the chance to actually learn about and dismantle their own unconscious antisemitism during this time. And I’m eternally grateful for them. But most people haven’t reached out at all. Most people are still sharing hateful things that could get me hurt and they don’t care. Most people Reblogging my posts are still Jews. Because we are alone. And it sucks. You need to be as loud about antisemitism as you are about Palestine or you’re an antisemite (unless you’re Arab/Muslim/Palestinian—I totally get that these groups are also doing damage control in their own communities just like Jews are).

But we are all in tremendous pain right now.

This moment will pass. And when it does, I will remember how many people let me down. I will remember that when I needed support more than I’ve ever needed it in my life, people fucking vanished. They pretended violence against my people wasn’t happening. They ignored and rewrote the history of Israel to suit their own narratives.

You don’t know what it feels like to be hated this much for opposite things. PoC hate us for being too white. White supremacists hate us for not being white enough. Europeans hate us for being middle eastern. Middle easterners hate us for being western/European. Everyone hates us for being settlers but continually kicks us out of their countries so that we have to settle somewhere else.

I saw a post going around from a Black person who said that the reason he and his fellow black activists go protest for Palestinians instead of fighting antisemitism (as if it’s a binary, which it’s not) is that Jews don’t show up. Muslims and Palestinians do. And honestly? Fuck that guy. Heather Heyer died standing shoulder to shoulder against racism in 2017. [CORRECTION: When I first wrote this post I was under the impression that Heather Heyer was Jewish. I want to correct to avoid spreading misinfo. She was just the first (and incorrect) Jewish civil rights activist I thought of. However there are plenty of other actual Jewish civil rights activists to choose from. If you have reblogged this post from me, please feel free to add a link to the permalink version of this post with my correction to your reblog.]I have devoted substantial time and effort and money that I don’t even get paid a lot of because I don’t get paid a living wage. I have continually reached out to PoC people in my life of all religions to ask how they are doing and what I could be doing to help more—both for them personally and how they would best like me to help their community. I have elevated their voices at every opportunity. And not one person I checked in with has done the same for me or for my community.

And it’s bone chilling. It’s awful. And it’s even worse knowing that when it’s over, people will want to go back to normal. They won’t apologize. They won’t self reflect. They’ll just live their lives, maybe a little more aware of how much they hate us and completely indifferent to the harm they’ve caused us. How disposable they made us feel. And the thing is…it’s not hard for you to know. You just have to ask.

Too many people are cowards. Too many people care about looking good than actually learning something or making the world better. And to those people: you should be ashamed of yourself.

I don’t have any hate in my heart. Truly. Not a drop for any group of people. But I have a tremendous lack of trust that anyone would actually lift a finger to keep me safe.

[daistea]

Can i request general relationship headcanons with lycion? (I hope you aren't overwhelmed with requests, I love your writings)

Thank you love! !

This was fun, I haven't gotten to explore Lycion much but I really enjoyed coming up with these!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Lycion would be a great partner because he’d be your best friend. He isn’t really romantic in the traditional sense, honestly he couldn’t care less about that stuff. A relationship with Lycion is based on comfort and vibes and mutual acts of service.

He’s generally pretty laid-back and playful, but there are definitely moments when he gets worked up— those moments usually concern him being offended at someone critiquing his decisions. He’s pretty defensive over his decision to get into ancient magic and change his body, he would prefer you affirm him rather than try and change his ways. 

Which means that when he runs off to join an illegal fighting tournament, please don’t freak out. He knows what he’s doing and it’s genuinely just for his own ego and pleasure. 

I get the feeling that he doesn’t like being worried over. 

I also get the feeling that his near-obsession with his appearance results in him only expecting praise for that. And he loves praise for his appearance and his beastman body and his hair. However, when you actually dig deeper and praise his personality and show a desire to love every single part of him, he kind of tenses up and doesn’t really know what to do with that. He’s not opposed to it, but it’s very new to him. 

If you’re in an established relationship where he’s assured that you love him, he’ll accept your concern. Still, if you try to stop him from doing what he wants, he’ll just ignore you– unless it’s super serious, of course. He does not consider being mauled by another beastman a serious situation. 

Despite his tendency to be reckless, Lycion is also a natural caretaker for those he cares about. (Him watching over Fleki while she trips, etc.)

He’s not a worrier, he’s pretty practical and looks for solutions rather than freaking out over the details or lecturing anybody on their decisions. 

He’s rather independent. I feel like a relationship with Lycion would have a lot of understanding and equality— that remains unspoken, though, because it’s just how he naturally is and he doesn’t need to make a big speech about how he respects your autonomy to do stupid crap if that’s what you wanna do. As long as you survive the stupid crap and come back to him, he’s fine. 

I feel like Lycion would have insight into the lesser known parts of Elven culture. The illegal markets and the underground fighting scene and the tribes that live deep in the forest– the ELF CANNIBALS I can’t believe Kui just mentions that elf cannibals exist and then never talks about it again. 

Lycion is pretty worldly and experienced, overall. Imagine him having a sheltered partner, he would constantly tease and push your boundaries. In public, he’d wrap his arms around you and bite at your neck right in front of everyone, then laugh lightly when you get flustered. 

Lycion would whisper a lot. You’re with a group of people and he just casually lays an arm over your shoulder and whispers what he’s thinking about the people, their outfits, something they’ve said, gossip, etc. Or he’d whisper about how much he wants to whisk you away and go somewhere private. 

If you ever want to curl up next to his beastman form and take a nap in his fur, he would gladly oblige. He isn’t stinky like a dog and he keeps himself well groomed. 

I’m not sure how he’d react to being brushed… It might feel like he’s literally a dog, then. But hey maybe he’d like it. Don’t know. 

I do believe that if he trusted you enough, he’d let you mess with his hair. Brush it, braid it, put it up in fun styles— It’s very intimate for him, a vulnerable moment and a gesture of love. 

It’s canon that beastmen do adopt the traits of the monster soul they’ve taken on. (It’s mentioned that weretigers take on feline traits and become quite antisocial). I believe he’d have a better sense of smell and hearing. He’s generally quite carnivorous. His ears twitch when he hears things, which all elves do to an extent, but his ear twitching reminds you of a puppy. He tilts his head. Sometimes you can imagine a tail wagging when he’s happy. 

Actually, when he’s in his beastform and he sees you, his tail does wag. He can’t help it. 

Other traits include fierce loyalty, practicality, playfulness, self-confidence, and defensiveness. Despite his laid-back personality, he does have the tendency to be combative at times and will not hesitate to tell someone what he thinks of them. 

Sorry but Lycion is a bit of an exhibitionist. Not in a perverted way, he just likes to show off. He wants you to watch him fight. He wants you to notice him. He’s a little obsessive about it, actually. Think about it, his dysmorphia made him so distraught that he would get beat up almost as a way to punish himself, like self-harm. He didn't care about his body or his health to the extent of heavy drinking. Now that he has the body he wants, he isn’t punishing himself anymore, he’s proud. And it’s important to him that you’re proud too. Look at him go look at him rip someone’s limbs off look at the form the muscles the teeth just look! 

One comic mentions that he got pissed when he was taken out with one punch by a werebear. Pouty angry Lycion laying face down in your shared bed as he complains. He requires your attention, please. Also he might just track down the werebear and challenge them again— then get knocked out again. Enjoy finding your boyfriend lying unconscious in the street! What fun. 

I love the comic of him picking Fleki up while they’re running away and then letting her ride on his back as he transforms. Imagine him doing that with you. He would be comfortable manhandling you while in his beastform, picking you up like a rag doll or even biting the back of your shirt with his teeth and carrying you around like a puppy lol 

What if he’s a biter… What if he bites during intimate moments. He might even just bite for fun. Lightly, of course. Just a wee nibble on your arm in an attempt to get your attention. 

Sometimes he just hangs out in beastform. You’ll find him like

Credit for the pic

This elf thinks he is a god of seduction. In some ways, he’s right. He is. But sometimes he doesn’t realize he’s being cheesy by giving you a certain bedroom look and then he gets irritated when you laugh at him. 

He’s rather sociable! And casual as well, he would just hang out around other people with his arm over your shoulder or around your waist. 

He likes your scent… He likes you surrounded by his scent. 

Overall, Lycion is a good partner who makes an effort to understand, respect, and take care of you. He desires the same. He’s a show off and very self confident. I don’t think he’d be the jealous type but there are occasions where he’ll be a little territorial. He shows intimacy in a very casual way and doesn’t do traditionally romantic things. He’s your best friend and your partner and also the guy who sometimes bites you when he wants attention. 

[anonymous-dentist]

A very exciting day from the Merpepito AU

Read on Ao3

-

Pepito has been a pirate for one month and three days, and he has finally been given his first Pirate Job.

"Pepito, I'm trusting you with something very important," Captain Celbi had said as the ship had pulled into port.

He had crouched and pulled out a small leather pouch from the pocket of his coat. He held it out to Pepito, nodding seriously as Pepito took the pouch in both of Pepito's hands.

"Pac and Mike are going to go grocery shopping while we're here, but they always forget the most important food when I send them shopping," Captain Celbi explained. "They don't buy any candy, and we both know how important candy is."

Pepito nodded seriously. Candy is important, Apa Quackity says that it's one of the major food groups along with fish, seaweed, and cocaine.

"So I need you," Captain Celbi continued, "to take this money and make sure that you get candy. One piece for every crew member, and two pieces for yourself as payment for taking on this very important mission."

And so here Pepito is, grocery shopping for the first time as a pirate. Mister Pac and Mister Mike and Richarlyson are with him, but they don't know about his mission; it's a secret mission, Captain Celbi had said!

The Sky Pepito town is huge, but Pepito doesn't think they'll get lost. Mister Mike seems to know where they're going even if Richarlyson does keep running off and getting lost in the crowd and punching people until Mister Pac goes to get him.

"Settle down, Richas!" Mister Pac groans. He takes Richarlyson by the hand and pulls him to his side. "You're going to get arrested like this, you know!"

"And?" Richarlyson challenges. "So what! Pai Cellbit gets arrested all the time!"

"Cellbit is also a complete sociopath," Mister Mike comments. He looks at the grocery list with a hum. "He told us to buy coffee, how the hell are we supposed to make coffee on a boat?"

Pepito doesn't know what a 'sociopath' is, but it sounds cool! Some kind of artist, maybe?

He looks around the market. There has to be a candy stall somewhere!

Back in the Reef, Miss Niki had the best candy. She made taffy out of The Ocean's salt, and she sold it alongside her cookies in her shop, and, man, Pepito really misses Miss Niki.

...He doesn't miss anything else about the Reef, though! Definitely not Apa Roier or Apa Quackity or Apa Mariana or Apa Carre or Ama Rivers or Awuelo Foolish, that would be silly!

Pepito is a pirate now. He's doing a Pirate Job for a Pirate Captain, and he's going to end up in sooooooo much trouble with the Navy because of it! (Everybody knows the Navy hates candy. It's because they're lazy disgusting sacks of organs and blood, according to Captain Celbi, and he's never wrong!!)

Pepito jumps as someone taps his shoulder. He looks up and sees Mister Mike looking down at him with crinkled, smiling eyes.

"Don't get lost, now, Pepito," he says. "Cellbit will leave you behind if we go back to the ship without you."

Pac gasps and smacks Mister Mike's arm, but he's smiling, and Richarlyson is laughing.

Pepito's eyes well with tears, but he doesn't cry. He knows that they're all pirates. They're evil. Of course Captain Celbi would leave if Pepito got back to the ship late, he's a pirate captain, and Pepito still hasn't finished his first Pirate Job.

So Pepito bites Pepito's lip and puffs Pepito's chest out. He will not be left behind! He's going to finish his Pirate Job, and then Captain Celbi will say he's a Good Pirate, and then Pepito will be a Good Pepito again.

...But Pepito can't see a candy stall or shop anywhere. Captain Celbi had said that this was supposed to be a secret, but if Pepito doesn't tell anybody that he was given this job, then it's still a secret!

Hesitantly, he tugs on Mister Mike's sleeve and spells out with his finger in the air, "C A N D Y"? (Apparently, there's something called 'sign language' in the Sky, but Pepito hasn't learned that yet, but at least Pepito can spell using the Sky Language now!)

"You want candy?" Mister Mike asks.

"Oooo, I want candy, too," Mister Pac eagerly says. He looks at Pepito with a smile. "When we're done shopping, we'll get some candy, okay?"

Pepito beams, all tears gone.

Richarlyson grumbles and tugs his hand free. He ducks his head, mutters something under his breath, glares at Pepito through his bangs.

Pepito frowns, all smiles gone.

He doesn't get why Richarlyson doesn't like him. They're friends, right? Captain Celbi always seems happy when they're playing together.

...Unless Richarlyson knows that Pepito is a Bad Pepito. Unless Richarlyson knows about the Very Bad Thing.

Uh oh.

-

(Cellbit watches the water, leaning against the ship's railing. He can dream of seeing him again, can't he?

Suddenly, a bright light erupts out of the ocean just over the horizon.

Cellbit frowns, standing and adjusting his hat.

That can't be good.)

-

Halfway through the grocery list, Richarlyson escapes again.

Maybe that's for the best, Pepito thinks. He likes Richarlyson, but he doesn't want Richarlyson telling his dads about the Very Bad Thing. Pepito likes Misters Pacandmike, they've been the ones teaching Pepito how to write the Sky Language. They're smart, and they're nice by pirate standards. Pepito doesn't want them to hate him, too.

So Pepito keeps watching Mister Mike argue with the saleswoman at the bakery. She won't sell him any bread because Richarlyson stole some cookies on his way into the crowd, it's rude. Maybe she's a pirate, too.

But the hair on the back of Pepito's neck raises on end as he hears a familiar shout and a, "Hey, watch it, kid! Where the fuck are your parents, huh?"

No...!

Pepito is a Brave Pepito. Pepito is a pirate! Pepito isn't scared of anybody!

But Pepito doesn't want to see the hatred in Apa Roier's eyes. He wants his last memories of Apa Roier's face to be happy ones where Apa Roier still loves him and wants to be his father and doesn't hate him or think he's a killer or a Bad Pepito.

Pepito can't help it.

Pepito runs.

Pepito holds Captain Celbi's money close to his chest, and he runs.

"What the-" Mister Mike exclaims. "Pepito! Where are you going!"

"Pepito?" Apa Roier asks. He shouts again and calls, "Pepito!"

Pepito ducks into the crowd and drops to his knees, clutching Captain Celbi's money tight so he doesn't lose it.

Apa Roier may be a fast swimmer, but Pepito is a Small Pepito. He knows that Apa Roier is super tall, so Pepito crawls between people's legs and under and through skirts and he hopes that Apa Roier can't see him because Pepito doesn't want to see him.

Pepito is gonna be in soooooo much trouble...

("He's a good boy," Apa Roier says. He glares over Pepito's shoulder at Luzu. "Not a killer. Can you get that through your skull, hmm?")

Pepito sniffs and wishes he was back home where he could hide under his bed until Apa Mariana would get on the ground with him and wait until he was done being scared. Apa Mariana would hold Pepito's hand and talk until Pepito felt better, and Pepito misses him so much. But now Apa Mariana has a New Pepito to hold hands with. He doesn't want Pepito anymore.

Suddenly, something heavy pounces upon Pepito from behind, knocking him down.

Pepito lets out a whine and faceplants onto the ground. He hears his glasses crack (at least he hopes it's his glasses...)

Captain Celbi's money digs into Pepito's stomach. It hurts...

"Got him!" someone shouts, and, oh, it's Richarlyson. Of course he's working with Apa Roier. He wants a Good Pepito, too, doesn't he?

Pepito whimpers and shakes his head. He wiggles, trying to get free, but all he does is rattle Captain Celbi's money a bit.

Richarlyson laughs and reaches under Pepito's stomach and pulls out the money pouch.

"This is Pai Cellbit's!" Richarlyson gasps. His other hand wraps around the back of Pepito's neck angrily. "You stole this from him!"

Pepito shakes his head again. He might be a Bad Pepito, but he isn't a thief! Captain Celbi gave that money to him for a job! A Pirate Job! So Pepito can be a pirate like everybody else!

"Hey, mister!" Richarlyson shouts. "I have Pepito!"

Pepito's stomach hurts, but not from getting tackled this time. He's going to be sick. Apa Roier hates him. He's came all this way just to find Pepito and arrest him and call him a Bad Pepito and-

Richarlyson is yanked off of Pepito; he shouts and fights and kicks right into Pepito's back.

"Richarlyson, what the hell?" Mister Pac demands. "What does Pai Cellbit always tell us?"

Pepito pushes himself up and back onto his hands and knees. His glasses are cracked, but he can still kinda see...

But then he's picked up by Mister Mike, and then they're running through the crowd.

Pepito glances down and sees that he's only being held to Mister Mike's chest by one arm. Mister Mike's free hand is holding a gun.

Pirates...

Mister Mike turns his head over his shoulder and shouts, "You are so grounded!"

"What? No!" Richarlyson protests.

"Crew protects crew," Mister Pac says. "Pepito is crew whether you like it or not."

Squinting, Pepito can see Mister Pac dragging Richarlyson along behind him as they hurriedly speedwalk through the crowd.

Mister Pac has his sword drawn, but it looks clean. That's good, Pepito doesn't want Apa Roier hurt.

"He stole from Pai Cellbit!" Richarlyson argues. "He's a traitor!"

Mister Mike rolls his eyes. "Who doesn't steal from Cellbit? Honestly, Pepito stealing from him is enough to make him crew in my eyes."

Pepito's jaw drops. A pirate likes him...!

They continue rushing through the crowd, groceries abandoned. Captain Celbi is gonna be so mad, but he might not call Pepito a Bad Pepito if Pepito's lucky. It isn't Pepito's fault that Apa Roier talked to the Sea Witch! Blame the Sea Witch, not Pepito!

The ship appears over the crowd, and Pepito can almost see the Pepitos on its deck. But his glasses are broken, so all he can really see are smudges that are vaguely Pepito-shaped.

"Cellbit!" Pac shouts. "We need to go!"

Captain Celbi appears over the railing. With his hat and his coat and the clear scowl on his face, he looks truly evil. (So cool...)

"What the fuck did you do?" he demands as they approach. "You were gone for twenty minutes!"

Mister Mike is the first on the ship. As soon as he's on board, he drops Pepito to the ground and reaches out to grab Richarlyson and pull him on board, too. He gently shoves Richarlyson to Cellbit, who takes Richarlyson by the shoulders and holds him still in front of him.

Captain Celbi looks at Mister Mike, and then he looks at the out-of-breath Mister Pac, and then he looks at Richarlyson, and then he looks at Pepito.

His eyes darken, a weird rumbling sound coming out of his throat that almost sounds like growling, but that can't be right. Sky Pepitos don't growl.

Pepito shrinks back. In the air, he shakily spells, "S O R R Y."

"It wasn't Pepito," Mister Pac says. "There was some- some guy at the market who saw Pepito and started chasing us! I don't know, he might be Navy? But they don't usually go after mermaids, right?"

"Who cares who he was?" Mister Mike huffs. He still has his gun out. (Scary...) "Fuck that guy."

He glances at Richarlyson. "You're grounded, young lady. Go below deck."

Richarlyson's jaw drops open in outrage. "But- but he's a thief!"

He holds out Captain Celbi's money pouch. "Pai, see? Pepito stole this from you! He's untrustworthy."

Captain Celbi sighs and takes his money back. "I gave him that money so he could buy candy because you guys never let me have any. Go downstairs, we'll talk later."

Richarlyson's face falls, but he storms downstairs, kicking a bucket full of soapy water over on his way.

Captain Celbi looks at Mister Pac. "We can't leave yet. Baghera and Mousey are still on shore, and we definitely don't have the food supplies to set sail right now. Next port town is over a month away, we'll starve before then."

He takes Misters Pacandmike to talk, occasionally glancing at Pepito.

Pepito lets them be. Pepito isn't a pirate. He can't participate in Pirate Stuff. He failed his Pirate Job. He'll never be a pirate now.

He walks to the gangplank and sits with his knees to his chest. He can't see much of anything, but maybe he can help Miss Baghera and Miss Mouse with their bags when they come back to the ship.

Pepito can't see, but Pepito can hear.

"Shit!" Apa Roier shouts in The Ocean's Language.

If Pepito squints just right, he thinks that he can see Apa Roier backing away from a wooden post on the dock with a hand to his forehead. He's shouting and in pain and it's all Pepito's fault.

Apa Roier's head snaps between the docked ships, looking. Searching. Probably very, very angry.

And then he sees Pepito. And Pepito sees him.

Pepito can't help it. Pepito starts crying as Apa Roier comes running towards him, tripping over himself as he scrambles up the gangplank with extended arms.

"Pepito!" Apa Roier cries. Pepito can't see the look on his face, but Pepito bets he's angry. "Pepito!"

He keeps chanting Pepito's name as he runs, because he's always liked Pepito's name. He always says that it's the best name Pepito could have, and it's probably his favorite name, so the New Pepito is probably named Pepito, too.

Pepito stands and tries running, but his vision is so blurry with his glasses broken and with the tears in his eyes that he manages to trip over the bucket Richarlyson had kicked over and he falls.

Warm arms scoop Pepito up and hold him close in a tight hug.

"Pepito, what the fuck," Apa Roier demands, his face buried in the top of Pepito's head. "A month, Pepito, what the fuck?"

Pepito shakes his head, his entire body quivering. He wants to hug Apa Roier back, but is he allowed to? No, right? Apa Roier's angry...

A cold shadow falls upon them from above.

A gun clicks, cold steel pointing right at Apa Roier's head.

"I'm going to give you one chance to get off of my ship," Captain Celbi coldly says, voice low and flat and absolutely terrifying. "Let go of my crew member, and get off of my ship. One. Chance."

"Your crew member?" Apa Roier scoffs. "He's my fucking son."

Captain Celbi inches closer until the gun is pressed into Apa Roier's hair; Apa Roier doesn't so much as flinch.

Pepito shakes. His lip wobbles, tears streaming down his face and snot bubbling out of his nose. He wants his dad!

In the language of The Ocean, Apa Roier says, "We're going home, Pepito. I'll beat his ass."

Pepito shakes his head frantically. They can't go home, the New Pepito is there, and Pepito doesn't wanna meet them! The New Pepito probably looks cuter than Pepito does. Doesn't need glasses. Is a fast swimmer. Doesn't have asthma. Isn't a killer.

But he can't say this. He can't say anything.

Behind Apa Roier's back, Pepito spells to Captain Celbi, "D A D."

Captain Celbi meets Pepito's eyes.

He lets out a breath, lips pressed together and eyebrows furrowed, but he nods and backs off, clicking his gun until it's safe.

And then Apa Roier lets out a war cry and lets go of Pepito, swinging a leg out and knocking Captain Celbi to the ground. He laughs and lunges for his gun, trying to wrestle it from him. Captain Celbi's hat falls off, revealing the pointy white things on the top of his head; they press flat against his hair and he bares his teeth angrily.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Captain Celbi demands.

"You kidnapped my son, what the fuck do you think?" Apa Roier snaps. He crawls on top of Captain Celbi, his knee between Captain Celbi's legs and his chest pressed to Captain Celbi's chest.

"Oh my gods," Mister Pac quietly says. "Mike, I think they're gonna..."

"Cover your eyes, Pac," Mister Mike replies.

Pepito doesn't know what they're talking about. All Pepito can do is watch uselessly as his dad and his captain wrestle on the deck.

"I didn't kidnap him!" Captain Celbi argues. "Bad brought him to me!"

"And you took him!?" Apa Roier incredulously asks. "Fucking pirates-"

He looks at Captain Celbi, and he goes quiet. He stops fighting.

Confused, Captain Celbi looks up at him. And then he stops fighting, too. The pointy things on his head stick right up, seemingly happy about something.

"Oh," Captain Celbi quietly says. "Hello."

He and Apa Roier are still borderline holding hands over the gun. Apa Roier is still flush to Captain Celbi's front, and Apa Roier's knee is still stuck between Captain Celbi's legs.

"Hi," Apa Roier says, voice soft, almost reverent in a way, the same way he spoke when he talked about how evil and bad and disgusting pirates are. "You kidnapped my son."

"I really didn't."

"I'm not getting off this boat until you give him back."

Apa Roier leans in close as he says that.

Captain Celbi licks his lips. "Then I guess you're going to be stuck here for a while, because Pepito is a prized member of my crew. I wouldn't give him up for anything in the world."

Pepito is... a prized member? Of the crew?

Pepito can't help it. He gets up and runs to Captain Celbi and gives him as good a hug as he can with Captain Celbi pinned to the deck.

He's a pirate!

Pepito is finally a pirate!

Best day ever!

[whateverisbeautiful]

♥️Reveling in Richonne - TOWL

#18: The Broken Bliss (1.03)

gif cred: @riickgrimes

“Bye” ended up being a fitting title for episode 3, both to complete the “Years Gone Bye” thing in homage to the TWD pilot "Days Gone Bye" and also because there were several shocking goodbyes in this episode. Including in this teaser where Rick is forced to kiss his hopes of escaping with Michonne goodbye 😢...

I really enjoy the ride of ep 3 and can now find the humor in things from this episode, but y’all, I wasn't as lighthearted when I first watched. I was so sad for both Michonne and Rick as they had to navigate both the elation and the complications that had come with finding each other again.

Like seeing the way crippling fear was fogging Rick’s perspective and the way Michonne was starting to feel like she’s gonna have to figure out how to bring her family back together all by herself. It was a lot. 🥺 But it was all very interesting. Also, even in an episode where Rick and Michonne spend a large chunk of it in a marital fight, I love that their love for each other is still extremely blatant. 

So first, in the episode one recap that played before episode 2 they start with Okafor talking about how As are sent away and killed and I know they included that because the Civic Republic has now just brought in the most A person that could ever A - Dana Bethune aka Michonne Grimes.

Then, the episode opens with a flashback from years ago as we see a line of consignees' shoes and then we know it’s Rick when we see his signature boots that are hanging on by a thread. That man is loyal to the core, even to his boots. 😋

gif cred: @perryabbott

The CRM says, “This is gonna be your home someday soon” but you know Rick knows this place will never be home.

He walks and takes in the place, turning around to observe some windmills and buildings. This shows how he's an A unlike the other consignees because he's assessing this place rather than just going along with things.

As he turns and walks alone past different booths, I remember just thinking how he would so much rather be walking hand in hand with Michonne and Judith right now. Or, if this wasn’t a place you can’t leave, he’d want to be enjoying this little farmers market cuteness with them. 

gif cred: @andy-clutterbuck

As he walks he hears Jadis ask for a napkin and he turns to her and it’s clear of all the familiar faces he could have been stuck with in the CRM Jadis is not one he’d ever choose.

She’s all smirking as she greets him and is just casually talking about the fries and I was so annoyed to see Jadis acting like she didn’t full-on pluck Rick away from his wife and daughter seemingly for good. Also, Jadis wasting those fries is added to the long list of why she's trifling. 😑 

Rick hesitantly walks with Jadis and she starts to explain how her Heapsters group from s7 would give lost souls who needed saving to the CRM and also they’d give people who are threats to the CRM in exchange for supplies. Jadis says she waited for Rick’s orientation so they could talk which I’m sure he prefers she didn’t lol.

She shares that the CRM keeps asking her what they should ask Rick and she hopes Rick will say he’s looking for someone to follow…but uh he already found someone with a sword to follow years ago at the prison. 😌

Jadis tries to be chummy with Rick saying he can talk to her because the CRM can’t surveil them here and Rick gets straight to addressing the audacity of the matter when he reminds Jadis, “You brought me somewhere I can’t leave.”

gif cred: @ricksmarlene

The way Rick says that first line, you know he feels this is the worst punishment keeping him away from his family. He does not view this as being saved but being trapped. 

(Side note: whatever that rebar recovery process was like for Rick leading up to this point treated him very kindly because they had him looking especially fine in this scene, just saying.😊 Also, for the longest time Season 8 Rick held the title of Rick's finest era to me, but Rick's TOWL era holds the title now without question 👌🏽)

Jadis says she could have chosen to let him die on the riverbed or told the CRM he was a threat. She notes how the CRM doesn’t take chances but she did because she owed him. At least she knows that much. 😒

Rick asks why she’s not also working consignment and idk why Jadis is all smirky but she is and Rick knows she doesn’t have to work consignment because she trafficked him. And they wonder why she’ll never be redeemable in my eyes. Like she basically sold Rick to this place as almost a currency to upgrade her life. Trash in all the ways. 😤🗑

gif cred: @clonecaptains

So Rick has one of those quick pissed smiles and walks away from Jadis but she follows after him to tell him that she’s enlisting in this place and she’s gonna sign up and move up the ranks because she believes in the CRM and its 500-year plan “to recreate the world as it was, better than it was.”

And while the way CRM folk buy into the 500-year plan definitely was giving cult vibes I can at the very least empathize with how they all might feel excited about the idea of the world potentially regaining normalcy after years of an apocalypse. However, their means of regaining normalcy through mass killings is atrocious.

Rick looks like he’s barely listening as Jadis tries to sell why this place is so great and why it’s the future. She says joining this place’s mission to change the world seems like a perfectly fine way to spend a life. But like girl, that may be the case if you didn't have a family and were community-less…but Rick has a whole wife and kid(s) at home and there’s no other way he’d rather spend his life than with them.

Jadis says, “The people that we left behind - their children’s children will have a world.” Can we start first with Rick even meeting his child RJ before people start recruiting him to a life of servitude for the children’s children?? And “people we left behind” is annoyingly phrased as if among those people isn’t Rick’s wife and daughter and as if he willingly left them behind. 😑

gif cred: @perryabbott

I love that Rick gets fed up and stops to look right at her with his steely eyes as he tells her point blank “I’m going home.” Now that was some signature Rick Grimes and I love it. 👏🏽

It makes me happy to see how absolutely determined he was to make it back home and also sad knowing that it would be so much harder than he could have ever expected at this moment.

But also I’m glad that he wanted to make this so clear to Jadis who really seemed to think Rick would just be cool with building some all-new life here. She tried it to capacity but I’d expect nothing less from her. 😪

Jadis knows Rick is serious and that she should back off when she just tells him, “Follow your bliss, Rick. But I did save your life. That is what happened” She really stays ticking me off with each thing she says and does and we haven’t even cut to the present yet where she pisses me off on another level. 🙃

Rick looks at her pissed too as he walks away from her because yes she kept him from dying that day of the bridge explosion but her actions ultimately led to Rick having to endure a far more painful death - the death where you’re still alive but a shell of who you once were, filled only with the ache from being torn from your loved ones. 

gif cred: @andy-clutterbuck

As Rick walks away, Jadis has to put the cherry on top of the tried-it sundae and tell Rick, “You’re welcome.” 🙄

There is a moment when Rick hears this and sorta tilts his head like he’s gonna turn around and say something back. And knowing how willingly petty Rick can be toward Jadis I’m sure he had something real slick and insulting to say. But he smartly decides not to cause a scene as he keeps walking forward.

They also have Rick stop for a moment as he seems to see something ahead and I’d like to think it’s the portraiture booth. After that frustrating encounter with Jadis, I know he could use a palette cleanser so I bet he went straight to that artist Benjiro for his first much-needed images of Michonne and Judith. 👌🏽

Then we cut to hours ago in the present as Rick knocks on Pearl’s door. (See how he actually knocks rather than barging in like some others 🙂) Pearl opens the door and she's been understandably crying over the death of their longtime leader Okafor and Rick is completely unconcerned about that at this moment lol.

While Pearl’s broken up and worried about if Rick’s okay after surviving a traumatic helicopter crash and attack, Rick is like...

Truly Rick's energy is like 'that crash stuff is all old news and there's something far more important on the agenda.'

He immediately and urgently gets into the Dana conversation telling Pearl, “Just listen to me. There’s a woman who saved me.” And I of course love the wording of that because it’s true in every way that Michonne saved and saves him. Also, if I were Pearl I’d be like so now when someone saves you you give them credit for it? 🙃

gif cred: @coolpartytimefan

Rick doesn’t look at Pearl as he speaks at first because I know he knows his face could give him away and reveal just how important this all is to him. He says this heroic mystery woman is in designation intake right now and then he does look right at Pearl to tell the truth that, “She’s an A.”

Then with too much passion in his eyes, Rick says, “And I don’t want them to send her away.” I was like now Rick, yes Michonne is supposed to be putting on an act in the CRM but you are too sir and for as long as Pearl has known you I don’t think she’s ever seen this much light and urgency behind your eyes about anything.

Like before this, Rick was the man who seemed like he didn’t give a damn about anything involving the CRM, and now all of a sudden he's fully activated over this new consignee. 🤭 This was one of the many moments where I was just looking at Rick like babe, change the plan cuz this 'undercover lovers' thing ain’t gonna work. 

Pearl says Rick doesn’t know for sure if this new girl is an A but he knows Michonne is an A more than he knows his own name lol. And I love how even despite years apart he still knows Michonne is an A++.

gif cred: @perryabbott

Rick maintains his urgency saying, “I’m making a call. But if I argue for her they’ll think I’m emotional, indebted.” Which again I know Rick is thinking 'And the CRM would be right in assessing that because I owe that woman everything.'

Then he passionately says, “You gotta make sure she stays.” And that was not an ask, that was an order Rick made because this is something he‘s gonna make sure happens at all costs.

Pearl looks at Rick and squints for a moment finally picking up on the fact that this man in front of her is a different and far more impassioned Grimes than she’s ever seen before as she asks, “Why?” validly wondering why it’s so important to Rick that this new lady stays in this city of thousands.

And the way Rick lays it on thick with the lie as he tries to say with conviction, “For Okafor. Because that’s what this has all been about.” He’s really trying to sell it. 🤭 And I feel bad because Rick thinks he can turn to Pearl as a fellow A but again I’m convinced Pearl is more of a B with a decent enough poker face to try and pretend she's an A, and so she’s not exactly cut from the same cloth as Rick and his wife.

gif cred: @perryabbott

Pearl says, “He’s dead” and again Rick tries to get into his persuasive acting bag as he passionately says, “No he’s not. Because we’re here.” I love seeing him willing to say and do anything to ensure Michonne is protected. Also, it hit me that Rick is using Okafor to help his case in getting Pearl to protect Michonne - the very woman who had a hand in Okafor dying. Rick really said bump Okafor and everyone else when it comes to my wife. 💯

Pearl asks, “Are you here, Rick?” And I was like baby, Rick has never been more here because this is the Rick Grimes I know and love, fighting like hell to protect his family. 👌🏽 But then she clarifies what she means by asking, “Are you a part of this?” Rick looks at her and says, “I understand now. I told him just before.” And he’s able to look her in the eye saying that because it is true that Rick told Okafor he was in just before his wife showed up.

And then Rick looks down when he says, “You were right” because that’s the lie part of it. Pearl asks who brings Michonne/Dana along and Rick says she should because the CRM and Okafor trust her more than him. Pearl is still unsure so Rick says, “Look it took me a long time. You helped me. I’m here. She should be too.”

While I absolutely loved seeing the passion here from Rick I unfortunately cannot give him an A letter grade for his performance as Man Who Is Not Madly In Love With The New Consignee lol. 😋

Like Rick had more energy in his behavior and urgency in his eyes than ever so he’s lucky Pearl didn’t pick up on it since she was still reeling from the Okafor loss and everything else going on. Otherwise, I just know she would've been closing her door like...

So while I thought he was being obvious, Rick did do a good enough job to convince Pearl to go along with his plan and stick her neck out for Michonne. So my baby Rick still gets at least a passing grade for his role as Man Who Is Not Madly In Love With The New Consignee. 😌👏🏽

Rick returns to his apartment and we pick up where we left off from the end of episode 2. Jadis knows Rick well enough to know the way he’s looking at her in this apartment means he's got murder on his mind as she says, “You’re thinking about killing me.”

And then she receives a signature Rick Grimes threat as he says with all the certainty in the world, “I will. But not today.” 👌🏽 And Jadis, girl...

I just know Rick feels like Jadis is overdue to be taken out for playing in his face for years. And if now she at all thinks she's going to mess with Michonne - that makes her death sentence signed sealed and delivered in Rick's book. 

Rick tells her, “It’s funny. I see it. I feel it. Throwing away everything you made happen for yourself. Because you needed to get in the middle of something you have nothing to do with.” I love him saying this. Jadis has tried to throw herself in the mix of Richonne for years and I love that Rick is like 'bowl-cut, you do not need to factor into this equation at all.' And if she doesn’t stay in her lane he’s going to end her and everything she’s worked towards 

Jadis self-centered behind begs to differ saying, “I have everything to do with it. Our fates are bound. You, Michonne, Me.” And y’all, I just happened to pause the scene for a sec and it was on Rick’s face and the way he is looking at Jadis…truly if looks could kill Jadis would be a goner in that very moment. 😬 As Okafor learned, an adversary having Michonne’s name in their mouth is going to get Rick heated like no other.

Jadis explains that if Rick and Michonne were the first two people to ever leave then the CRM would never stop looking for them ever and since Jadis would know where they were she’d be the one to have to destroy ASZ. And again as Rick listens to this he’s so viscerally pissed off and I 1000% get it.

Jadis says she’d have to kill everyone to make sure their arrangement was never discovered and again this woman always acts in self-interest. Rick scowls as he tells her the gospel truth, “This was your mess. This is you. This is you.”

This is all Jadis's doing so she really needed to stop acting like there’s anyone else to blame. Jadis is approaching this as if Rick went out of his way to complicate things by coming to the CRM as an A when she’s the one who roped him into her lies.

It’s hard because as Rick says this you can tell he’s thinking about how so much of his pain and problems trace back to trifling Jadis, like since season 7. 😪

Jadis is still so smug as she tells Rick, “In the event of my untimely demise, I just put a little file among my possessions telling them everything they need to know about you and all the people that you love. And I imagine that a CRM reclamation team would have everybody that you love dead within hours of that file's receipt”

Okay, first of all - Jadis, you beast. 😠 But it is fitting that Jadis has factored in a plan based on Rick taking her out because at least she knows how likely it is that he’ll kill her.

Second of all, this woman is just so cruel. Like she knows Rick has people he loves, not just community members or travel companions but like family family and she’s still so callous and cold when threatening him and them.

gif cred: @riickgrimes

Three; similar to the scene in ep 1 between Okafor and Rick when Rick realizes he really can’t risk going home anymore, this moment with Jadis is another one of those gut punches as he again realizes that he can’t break free with Michonne like he initially really hoped.

Like I truly think before this moment he did think he and Michonne would find a way out together but now he’s right back to feeling convinced that the CRM can’t be beaten and that he’s stuck here forever, which is why we see his mission change from getting them both out of here to just getting Michonne out of here. All that psychological warfare came right back to keep Rick in chains in this scene. 😢

As Jadis talks you can see it - you can see the hope Rick had of escaping with Michonne drain out. Before he was looking at Jadis angry and upset but upon hearing that their escape will get Michonne and their family killed he starts that labored breathing we’ll see much of the next episode, which is a clear indicator of his fear and panic.

Jadis says, “Because you and her leaving with the knowledge of that city and this force? You know that can’t be had.” I can’t believe Jadis is making me miss the days when she spoke in short broken sentences. Like plz...

It’s so hard seeing Rick look so distraught while he paces and gets sincerely emotional as the realization hits him that he might’ve just trapped his wife here along with him.

The way he walks toward the door then stops, it feels like he wants to sprint out of there and get to Michonne ASAP to wrap her in bubble wrap and shield her from everyone. Plus he needs the calmness Michonne provides back as he’s starting to unravel.

Then my heart always melts hearing Rick say with so much sincerity and emotion, “She doesn’t belong here.”

Again, this further cements that this has now become strictly a save-Michonne mission to him because he’s not making a case for the both of them, just her.

And the way he says it is just so extremely caring and protective. Like he is truly talking about his baby and feels utterly awful that Michonne is here because of him. 🥺

gif cred: @riickgrimes

It’s also sad that he only says Michonne doesn’t belong here because the CRM has convinced Rick that he is owned by them. And it’s like he’s accepting that harsh reality but still mustering the strength to at least argue that Michonne should not be stuck with the CRM like him. 

And then y’all, the line that’ll be having me want to swing every time is when Jadis responds to Rick’s heartfelt declaration about his wife not belonging here by saying in her best Karen voice, “Then she shouldn’t have come here.”

Like how much more patronizing and heartless can she be toward both Rick and Michonne. That line is gonna get me heated every time. 😑

Jadis says, “But that was her choice.” And you know hearing that hits Rick hard because he knows that it was not Michonne's choice but his that she’d come to the Civic Republic. Like Rick is already a man who feels so responsible for things and so you know he just feels responsible on another level for bringing her here knowing Michonne trusted to follow his lead. 

Jadis then asks Rick, “So what’s your choice?” And the way Rick looks at her I can literally hear the thought in his head - my wife is my choice. And while it will cause some issues, we do see him choose his wife in his actions that follow.

gif cred: @clonecaptains

Also what is with this CRM and all their dang choices that aren’t choices. 🙄 Like they’re obsessed with referring to things as choices when they are choices people basically have to make at gunpoint.

Rick is quietly seething as Jadis asks, “Will you tell me that you will not try to leave again? If you try with her everyone back home dies.” I do like how at least Jadis knows Michonne being here means Rick definitely got some newfound hope of breaking out of this place after giving up on the idea for a year or so. She knows Michonne would give Rick a renewed sense of strength and motivation that could lead to the two actually successfully escaping. 

And then Rick just breaks my heart yet again as he so emotionally and earnestly asks,“Why? why?” And I have the same question. As well as wanting to ask Jadis...

I was watching this scene just thinking after everything Rick's done for this selfish woman, WHY can’t she just leave him alone? If anything, had they let Rick go home, I think at least for a while he really would have left the CRM alone.

But the CRM done messed up keeping Rick here so long that now his baddie A wife had to show up because Michonne is the one who would be of the mindset they have to teach the CRM a lesson and expose this 'last light of the world'.

Jadis answers that she’s doing all this because of the CRM’s value of “Security and secrecy above all.” And Rick reacts like 'oh brother, not this damn CRM motto again.' Or maybe that was a direct quote from my mind lol.

Jadis again as self-centered as ever says she will not jeopardize everything she’s made happen for herself. She says, “I won’t wait for them to find you and they will find you- and it’ll all blow back on me.” Again, Jadis...

Rick tries to reason with Jadis asking if there’s a deal to be made and if she can clean it up. Hearing that I was like - nawt us still having storylines of making deals with Jadis in 2024. 🙃 Like we needed to stop making deals with Jadis in 2017. The woman is a snake point-blank and so any deal with her is truly pointless.

Jadis says there’s no deal and then she notes that Michonne is “very very lucky” because the CRM suspects that she’s an A but still let her in because Pearl stepped up. Lol, I’m not at all surprised they got the sense that Dana was an A. I thought Michonne actually gave a decent B performance during the vetting process but still, she radiates A energy as other consignees will soon note.

Jadis asks if Rick was behind Pearl advocating for Michonne and when he’s silent Jadis is like “Wow. You pulled that off.” And then she again tries it to capacity when she tells Rick, “So have your life together here.” Wth, Jadis?? 😠 I know she knows good and well Rick and Michonne have a daughter at home so just how ridiculous can she be suggesting they should just leave Judith behind and build a life here. I’d say dpmo but...

Then Jadis has more CRM propaganda to spew as she says, “We’re the last light of the world.” But me personally, I give that description to the Grimes family. 👌🏽

Jadis then stands up and gets in Rick's personal space as she again asks, “What’s your choice?” Rick is teary-eyed as he knows his choice is made. If it comes down to having Michonne with him stuck here or getting her out safe and back to Judith - He’s choosing his wife and daughter every time.

As he looks down defeated Jadis says, “You know I don’t need to hear it.” And it’s interesting because this scene really does a good job of depicting the massive shift in Rick from when he entered the apartment to when Jadis leaves.

At the end of ep 2 when Jadis was in Rick’s face he was lethally staring her down but now when she’s in his face he hangs his head down, beaten down by her threats toward his family. 😢

Rick then says, “You didn’t threaten me or the people I love before when I told you I was gonna get away.” And I’ll say this, Pollyanna very much understood the assignment knowing how infuriating Jadis was meant to be because she again uses a tone that makes me irate as she just smugly tells Rick, “That’s cuz I knew you couldn’t.”

gif cred: @likeafantasy

Honestly, I see why Rick cherishes so much that Michonne believes in him because unfortunately, so many others underestimate him.

However, without his family by his side, Rick was in fact sadly made to feel like he couldn’t fend off the CRM’s oppression forever. 

gif cred: @likeafantasy

Rick asks, “What changed?” and Jadis turns around, sounding oddly enough like she’s a fellow Richonne stan, as she says, “You two together? You can do anything.”

gif cred: @likeafantasy

It’s at least fitting that Jadis knows Rick and Michonne were going to try to be the first two to escape this place and that if anyone could pull it off they could. From the moment she met Richonne in season 7 she saw firsthand that they could do anything together.

And while dialogue-wise I think there perhaps could have been a way to say Richonne can do anything without saying it as on-the-nose, I don’t mind hearing it because it’s an utterly true statement. And I do like hearing this belief in Richonne’s abilities together even if it had to come from the most trifling of mouths.

gif cred: @likeafantasy

I so badly wanted Rick to see that Jadis saying this is her basically admitting she’s scared of him and his wife together. But Rick is understandably scared that any of his next moves could get the woman he loves most harmed and so this moment with Jadis instead effectively deflates his hope of escaping with Michonne. Now Rick is determined simply to get Michonne out of here alive. 

Rick watches the door as Jadis exits and you can see in his face that there’s so much running through his mind. As much as he wants to believe that he and Michonne can do anything he’s also not willing to risk losing Michonne in the process of trying to escape together.

So by the end of this teaser - TOWL's lengthiest teaser, I believe - we know that this whole get-home thing just got a lot messier and a lot harder.

Going home is still the mission but thanks to the evil snake that is Jadis, the “together” part of “going home together” has now changed.

gif cred: @likeafantasy

I called this post The Broken Bliss because Rick felt more hopeful than ever that this would be the time he finally broke out since now his wife is here, but then Jadis shattered the bliss he was trying to follow. 😞 And now when Rick thinks about his wife being here it strictly overwhelms him with fear. 

So with this teaser, we saw a very pivotal development for Rick, and next it was time for us to check in on Michonne. And now, y'all know Michonne has always been a true source of peace for Rick...but that Ms. Dana Bethune on the other hand - she's about to have this man stressing. 😅👌🏽

[honeysickledream]

'Overgrown' - Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader | Chapter One

(photo credit: me [@honeysickledreams])

warnings | tags: F!reader, no use of Y/N and no physical descriptions of reader, reader is a healer and midwife, this is set in a very vague ‘middle ages’ time, forced/arranged marriage, angst, slow burn (heavy emphasis on slow), miscommunication, there’s no communication at this point honestly, relationship issues, relationship doubts, (mild) hurt with no comfort, no smut this time around but still minors DNI, mild horror/fear element towards the beginning (a nonexistent monster is described in detail + the briefest mentions of animal and possible person-on-person attacks along with it) | that’s everything off the top of my head, lmk if I missed anything!

word count: ~2.6k

synopsis: You had married Simon four months ago, the whole thing some stupid forced arrangement. You had left everything you knew behind to live with Simon in his cabin a few miles out from his hometown. You weren't sure you could classify your relationship as a marriage, or even say truthfully that you lived with him because he wasn't around very often. Some part of you hopes things improve, but you're not unwillingly to do what you can to live the life you'd originally planned for.

Next Part ->

Thin clouds softly colored purple and pink from the sunset drifted overhead. Street lamps burned away at the oil and cloth wicks. The townspeople flooded the rough streets as they went about their evening routines of visiting the markets, going home after a long day or meeting with others. Some mothers were wandering the alleyways where their unruly children wandered after being sent out to play. You did your best to move through the crowds of people, hopping onto the wooden promenades to get around the slower and louder groups so you wouldn’t have to trek home in total darkness. The walk back to the cabin was a few miles out, and after spending four months tending to mothers and their children, you had heard more than your fair share of stories about the shadows in the woods and the spindly-legged beasts that enjoyed gobbling up those who were out too late. Logically you knew those creatures weren’t out there, that the mothers were telling their children such stories to keep them from wandering off into the woods and finding themselves food for wolves and bears. But as you walked alone on the dirt road that cut through the thick of the woods, winding this way and that, with only a few thin paths branching off and leading to well-hidden cabins and cottages, you couldn’t help but feel uneasy. Like something was there behind the trees as it tried to make up its mind on whether you would be a tasty treat. You turned down the third path on the right that you came across, the old wooden sign reading ‘Riley’. The name had been etched into the surface haphazardly—either done by a child ages ago or by someone with shoddy penmanship. Somewhere in the depths of the woods, a branch snapped. Your blood ran cold, your heart racing as you tried to keep yourself from going stock still. The creepy stories from the mothers in town began to fill your mind. Images flashed behind your eyes of lanky creatures with bark-covered antlers that dripped with the blood of their victims, cloaks made from human skin and moss draped over their shoulders, their smiles too wide and full of rows of pointed, thin teeth. Those stories were nonsense, you had to tell yourself with each step you took. If there was something in the woods you needed to fear, it would be the wolves or bears that would charge you before they mauled your defenseless body, or perhaps a person lurking in the woods with whatever foul plans they had brewing in their mind. But the notion to fear those things didn’t enter your mind, they never did when something startled you in the woods. For some reason the fantastical, wicked creatures seemed more terrifying than the real threats. The fear you felt subsided as soon as you saw the heavy door to your cabin, the dark blue paint faded. No candles or lanterns were lit, not that you expected them to be, but a disappointment settled in her heart where the fear had been nonetheless. You unlocked the door slowly, slipped inside and locked the door loudly. Once your boots were off, your cloak hanging from the rack by the door, and your aged medical case in its place by the sword stand that was empty like always, you did a quick search around the cabin, lighting candles in the rooms as you ensured that they were clear. The two bedrooms were empty, undisturbed. Your most recent crochet project was still on the couch in a snarled mess, the furniture still angled the way you liked it. You did a quick sweep of the kitchen, making sure no little critters had managed to find their way into the cabin to sample your loaves of bread or tore into your sacks of sugar or crates of ripening fruits. With everything safe, just the way you’d left it that morning before making your rounds through town, you lit the fire in the parlor before lighting the open hearth in the kitchen.

The front door’s lock unlatched loudly right as your nightgown fell down the rest of your body. Without hesitation you grabbed the dagger you kept under the face-down journal on your nightstand. You knew only one other person had a key to the cabin, but who was to say someone hadn’t gotten a locksmith’s set or perhaps one of those damned creatures from those horrible nighttime stories had managed to slip their thin nails into the locks to trigger the mechanisms.

Knife brandished before you, poised to strike at anything even if it was just to buy a few more seconds of breath before dying, you crept down the hallway. You stuck to the right side because it was the side that never creaked, something you learned a few days into living here. The middle of the hallway seemed to creak only when it was nighttime, while the left side creaked morning, noon or night. There was nothing at the entrance of the hallway, and no one was lingering around the front door to the right or in the parlor which was dead ahead. As you looked left into the kitchen where your pot of stew was still bubbling away, you noticed a broad and tall figure wafting the savory smells towards their face. Their back was towards you, their attire dirty and ratty but it was deep green of their cloak that caught your eye and told you that it was safe to lower your blade. “You’re back,” you whispered as you slowly approached the figure who froze when your voice broke through the silence. You didn't bother to hide the faint disappointment in your tone. The scars of the person’s face glinted in the candle- and hearth-light of the kitchen as their head turned. “’Course I am,” the man rasped, voice tight as if he hadn’t spoken for days. “Been four weeks, told ya I’d be back around now.” You glared at him, not just for being so nonchalant about his arrival. It was night, you were alone, no one around, and he just waltzed in without announcing himself. If you hadn’t noticed the green to his cloak, you could’ve stabbed him which wouldn’t have ended well for anyone. “I take it you’re hungry,” you said under your breath. You didn’t wait for his response, grabbing two bowls from the cupboard and two spoons from the drawer. Luckily you’d made a bit more stew than usual, but you knew you’d be scrambling to find him more food after he scarfed his portion down. You stirred the stew and sighed. It had a little ways to go before it was ready to be eaten. “Go fetch yourself water for a bath and get clean. You smell like a wet dog rolled in a puddle of decay, Simon.” He returned the glare you’d given him moments ago but did as you said and went to the back garden for pails of water. He had bristled when you said his name, rather than referring to him as ‘Ghost’. That happened often after he spent a hefty amount of time with his three friends who only referred to him as ‘Ghost’. Everyone in town did the same, or they used a string of descriptors to refer to him. Simon had told you to not refer to him as ‘Ghost’ while withholding the reason why you were given special license on your wedding day.

Bitterness settled heavy on your tongue, memories of your wedding day suddenly filling your mind. Every muscle seemed to tense and tears brimmed in your eyes. You knew the whole situation was horrible for Simon, too, not just for you, but very little about his life had changed that day. At least to your eyes, he had been able to remain in his hometown, living in his family’s cabin all while you had to move far away from the family that forced you to become a Riley. You had to leave everyone you loved behind, most of your belongings still in your old bedroom hidden under white sheets until your family re-purposed them or sold them off. And the marriage remained as rocky as it had been on day one—and it had been four months since the wedding. When Simon was home, he was gone most of the day, leaving near sun-up and returning near sun-down. Sometimes he was called away with his three friends for a few days, and most recently, they’d been called away to do something for four weeks. The two of you rarely talked when he was around, rarely spent more than an hour in the same room. Oh, and there was no physical intimacy. None. Your sisters wrote to you often asking how married life was (and if you had found yourself to be with child yet, which they made sure to never write out so bluntly, preferring to inquire between the lines) and you had no idea how to politely tell them that they had witnessed your husband barely give you a peck on your awful wedding day to seal the vows, so why would they think the marriage had gotten even remotely physical enough for there to be the possibility of a child? As you stood there stewing over the stew, you weren’t even sure you wanted children with Simon. If it ever did happen, would he be a supportive husband to you through all the pains and changes, the scares and the happy moments, the horror and miracle that was birth? Would he care for the child in such a way that would charm you into wanting to give him a dozen more babies? A bubble popped on the surface of the stew, ripping you from your contemplations and rapidly growing dissatisfaction and anger at everything. You licked the spot on the back of your hand and smiled faintly. You were sure you’d perfected the seasonings this time, as well as the ratio of carrots to celery. It was then that Simon cleared his throat and you looked up at where he leaned against the door frame. He dressed in loose cotton trousers and a sleep shirt, his body cleaned of whatever filth he’d gotten on himself. He’d even trimmed his dark blond hair, which was a shame because the slight length had looked rather charming on him.

Then you realized you’d been in your own head long enough for him to fetch water, heat it, bathe and dress, and for the stew to finish cooking. All the little lines you fed yourself daily about making the best out of this strange and aggravating situation seemed to have done nothing but give you some momentary distraction when you saw happy couples and families loving interacting with each other. “There’s fresh bread in the larder,” you told him as you began to ladle stew into his bowl, making sure to given him most of the venison. You knew that whatever he and his friends did when they were called away left them without hearty meals most of the time. Even just a few days away often left Simon looking a bit leaner, but four weeks away? The hollowness to his scarred cheeks made something twist in your chest to see it. You sat the bowls down on the little table in the corner of the kitchen, then turned to find Simon slicing the loaf—no, loaves…God, you made a mental note to get up early tomorrow to bake more before you left to tend to your patients. He’d also grabbed a jar of apple butter and poured you both a cup of water, which you thanked him for under your breath. The two of you sat at the table, eating in the usual silence, staring off at the usual spots of the wall. Your eyes trained on the cobweb in the left corner of the wall behind him, and his eyes trained on the wall behind you. Your brows furrowed when Simon suddenly made a face that you caught out of the corner of your eye. He picked up the jar of apple butter, examining it, then took another bite of the bread that he’d slathered the mixture on. He made the same face and you sighed. “I bought that stuff a few days ago.” You took it from him when he offered it up. It smelled just fine, it looked just fine, too. No discoloration or signs of something growing. You spread a little bit of it on the corner of your bread and took a bite. Simon snapped his fingers in some sort of triumph when you grimaced, too. Something about the apple butter mixing with the savoriness of the stew, perhaps even with the slight acidity of the bread, made everything taste wrong. Worse than wrong. You took a gulp of water to wash down the horrid taste. Before any more mistakes were made with the apple butter, you closed the container and made your way to the larder. After searching the moderately dusty shelves, you grabbed a jar of pepper preserves that had been gifted to you two weeks ago by one of your patients after helping her deliver her third child and first daughter. You hand it to Ghost who wasted no time in opening it and spreading the contents onto a fresh slice of bread. He took a large bite and his eyes fluttered closed as he chewed slowly. “I’m not sure why you thought apple butter would go well with such a savory stew,” you said under your breath as you resumed eating.

“Thought it’d be tangier,” he muttered around his bite of food. “Stew’s good, though. Not too garlicky like the last time ya made it.” You stared blankly at him. For some reason the idea that he sometimes found your stews too garlicky made something flip in your mind. Maybe it was because it had been a long day and now he was back after so long away, your normal routine disrupted which always managed to put you on edge. You managed to hold you tongue and look back to your food, waiting for Simon to say something else. But he didn’t say anything. He fell back into his usual silence and your frustration grew a little more. You finished eating your stew and a slice of bread with the pepper spread. Since Simon was eating rather slow, you left cleaning the kitchen to him as you put your dishes in the wash basin. You made your way to your bedroom, locking yourself inside. Everything suddenly felt wrong in the cabin, in your body, even in your mind. Like you were sweltering in the summer heat and unable to find a way to cool down and relax, despite it being the middle of autumn and your bedroom was somewhat chilly. For hours, you tossed and turned, pushing your sheets on and off, this way and that. Your mind always wandering to what was hidden under the loose floorboard by the bedroom door. After a while, you managed to fall asleep, but your rest was fitful.

[breannasfluff]

Early Riser

AO3 Link

It’s five a.m. when the chain stumbles out of the portal. Well, actually it’s four minutes past five and counting seconds, but Time’s pretty sure no one cares about that. It was somewhere in the middle of the second watch when the portal appeared on the opposite side of their campsite.

Warriors, who was on watch, bore it with the grace of someone used to terrible hours in the army. Those that were woken up were in…less useful states. Wind was mostly asleep standing upright. Legend’s glare could light rain on fire and Hyrule’s arm around his waist might be the only thing restraining him.

Four drooped against Sky, who was also mostly asleep. Maybe he’s gained the ability to sleepwalk; Time wouldn’t put it past him. It takes him three slow blinks to claim the era. “We’re in Skyloft.”

Time doesn’t point out that this is obvious as the predawn light is lighting up the clouds. A cold wind bites at his fingertips; no wonder the chosen hero wears so many layers up here.

“Why is it so early?” Wild burrows into Twilight’s arms—ah, he’s trying to get into the wolf pelt. His successor isn’t magnanimous enough to give it up but wraps Wild up in his arms.

“Aren’t you made for early mornings?” Legend glares around Hyrule. “You’ve got a shit sleep schedule.”

“Just because it’s bad doesn’t mean it’s a choice.”

“Sleep, asshole!”

Time sighs and says, “Language, vet. I know it’s early.”

“Self-righteous piece of—”

“Legend!”

His only answer is a feral hiss. The vet is not pleasant without coffee in the morning. Time turns his attention back to Sky, who’s still staring blankly. “Where can we go this early?”

“The market—” a yawn interrupts him. “The market is setting up by now, so we can hang out there. Or we can try the Academy.”

“Which is closer?”

“Market.”

Time waves Sky forward, then leads the way when the hero doesn’t move. “Market it is for now.”

The cloth walls of the market block out the chill, although it’s still dim inside. They congregate in a corner, still yawning.

“Good morning! Oh, look at you all! Link! I’ve missed you!”

Time drags his attention to the approaching girl who has, frankly, far too much energy for this time of day.

“Hey, Zelda.” Sky yawns halfway through and slumps into her hug.

“Aww, who’s a sleepyhead?”

“It’s like, dawn. That’s when people sleep, Zelly.”

“Nonsense! This is the perfect time to get up and get going for the day! Smell that crisp air?” She takes a deep breath to demonstrate. “We just need to get you all moving, you’ll see.”

Legend’s moan is full of so much pain that Time whips around. Did he miss an injury? Did something happen after they landed?

The vet does look physically ill as he says, “Oh no, you’re a morning person!”

Hyrule pats his shoulder. “It’s okay, Legend. Remember, Sky has to deal with her forever.”

Zelda makes a face, then makes another when Sky only sighs sadly instead of defending her. He nuzzles her shoulder. “I’ll bear the burden. Learn to sleep through it.”

She steps back abruptly, letting Sky fall to the ground. “Well. Some of you don’t appreciate the benefits of a good morning.”

“Zelly! Why?” Sky rolls on the ground, arms wrapping around her ankle. “Do you have no pity for your hero?”

Legend steps forward, possibly deciding Sky needs backup. “It was the middle of the night when the portal came! Do you know what’s important? Sleep!”

“I like waking up early,” Twilight pipes up.

“Shut up!” No less than three glares are turned on him, and one from the champion still leaning into his fur.

Zelda senses an ally and zeroes in the rancher. “You get it, right?”

“Yeah. I help out on the ranch so there’s no late mornings for me.”

Wild, unwilling to be pulled into the discussion, leaves the protection of Twilight’s fur and barrels into Legend and Hyrule. They easily absorb him into their group and slump against each other.

Time watches the group drift around, blinking slowly. Zelda and Twilight’s conversation grows more animated and starts to pull in those heroes who are at least functioning. Good, they can take care of themselves.

Leaning against one of the tent poles, Time lets his eye slide half shut. It was the middle of the night when he got up. Safe in Skyloft, he can afford to be a little lax. Actually, the Academy has that great bathhouse. Maybe an early morning bath?

It’s too bad Malon isn’t here. Or if they had a bathhouse like that in their era. Large pools of water…steam from the fire…yes. Just the two of them alone. He could help her wash that beautiful red hair.

Time shuts his eye fully, losing himself to a drowsy fantasy of warm water, soft hands, and carefully detangling hair. Maybe he can rub her shoulders; Malon pushes herself too hard on the ranch.

After the bath they could get breakfast…maybe ride on a loftwing…

“Time!”

He jerks and whacks his head on the pole. Zelda is grinning at him. “You awake, hero?”

“I was thinking.”

“Mmm. With your eyes closed.”

“That’s the best way to think.”

She rolls her eyes, but gestures. “Come on, let's head up to the academy. You can either stay up a bit for breakfast or go back to sleep.”

The word sleep has the magic effect of motivating the other heroes to brave the chill morning air. They troop out of the market and up the hill to the Academy. Sky keeps Zelda tucked against his side; cape wrapped around her shoulders.

Time smiles to himself as he watches them. They aren’t like he was with Malon, but that’s okay. What they have is pure and sweet. When he first started courting Malon…well, he was a mess. It’s a miracle she put up with him, much less agreed to marry him.

“Good morning! Oh, Link, it’s good to see you! And friends! What a delightful surprise this morning!”

A booming voice breaks him out of his thoughts and inspires groans from the heroes.

Legend goes back to practicing his fire-setting skills through glares. “Of course, Zelda’s dad is a morning person, too. Sky, your kids are cursed.”

Silently, Time has to agree.

[888-fr]

mass pinglists (& moral superiority for not using them)

There's been concern lately over the newest update announcement that at some point, far into the future or at least after New Year's 2024, mass-pinging as a concept will be retired from Flight Rising. On one hand, there's people worried about this.

There's people who are also, frankly, being wildly vitriolic about those who rely on mass pinglists, disbelieving that anybody could ever be affected by mass ping tools shutting down. They're also out here openly calling skinmakers/G1 collectors/dominance organizers delusional for thinking the things they do are in any way, shape, or form, an important part of the site.

Which like, if people don't use user-run tools like GASP or the G1 pinglist, that's fine! That's your playstyle. But I don't understand where the attitude is coming from that the concerned groups are only a 'loud minority', and that they somehow don't contribute massively to the game as a whole. (The same people, by the way, who call G1 collectors & UMA makers a plague upon dragon society for being an elitist rich boy's club, then turn around and say they're not at all a driving force in the site's economy.) Which one is it? You can't have it both ways. Do these people spend thousands whaling for their perfect XXY G1 wildclaws then hundreds buying gem genes for their fancy showoff dragons? Or are they at best a negligible population in the game, whose activity and monetary contributions to the site are far outweighed by the tens of thousands of 'nice, normal, sane' players who log on once a week to hatch a nest and post on forums once in a blue moon?

There's 825 pages of user-made skins on the site right now. At 50 items per database page, that's 41,250 skins. 41,250 skins that had to be submitted with blueprints that can only be bought with gems.

Let's give these numbers the benefit of the doubt and say each skin was only submitted once, using a 10-print blueprint at 5000 gems, and each accent was only submitted once as well, using a 10-print blueprint at 2500 gems. That's 136,875,000 gems sunk into blueprints - if each individual usermade skin on site has only an average of ten copies on site. (Which is categorically not true, I've had multiple skins print over 300 copies. And I am just one person, and far from the most successful skinmaker on site.)

This is 1,368,750 USD in skin blueprints alone, by the way, using the most barebones and least generous numbers possible. We're not accounting for skins that sell more than one run, or the fact that no skin artist sells their skins to the public at print price (you can add another 30-40% to that number if you want to estimate how much money is actually spent to circulate those skins). Even if none of these artists pay money to buy gems, these gems are coming from somewhere. Even if you, as someone who doesn't care for G1s or never even heard of GASP, never set foot into these places, these gems are still circulating and being sunk into the site. And it helps no one to scoff and say you doubt there's no real impact on anything if all of this goes away.

There's 51k items on the site, and over 80% of them are skins. There's 5k users actively signed up and using GASP - more than the average amount of users logged onto the site at any given point that's not a new breed release or anniversary update.

Are you getting the picture yet? It's not self-absorbed to say that the UMA market has a very real impact on the game economy. It's just numbers.

I need to get my thoughts out about the new mass-ping update somewhere. My thoughts on the actual tool are entirely positive, it's a great change for the site and not one I ever thought I'd see. But there's people worried about the future of tools like the GASP & G1 sales pinglists for very good reason.

I think game economy is a very real concern if you're a dominance participant, a skinmaker, an old dragon collector, a G1 hatcher, an ID hunter, or anyone else whose community relies on mass ping lists. You aren't wrong for feeling this way. I'm sorry people are dismissing very valid concerns about the state of your community out of some misguided 'i don't do this and neither do my friends, so everyone who does must be a loud overexaggerating nitwit' attitude.

[ventithedrunkbardehe]

Hello, if you write angst, may I request luxiem x reader, where in the process of time travel, they lost reader. It can end with a reunion or anything you want.

If you don't write angst, may I request a any xsoleil boys x short reader, with anything you want.

Hello hello! I like this idea os let's get started shall we? Also I will still write for Mysta even after he graduates.

Luxiem loosing then reuniting with their s/o

Vox the Voice Demon, well, as everyone knew him in the in the Sengoku Period and mostly in the Akuma Castle. You were one of Vox's closer servant who was always by his side. There were many rumors going thru the people in the castle that the two of you were together, or just someone that he used for his own pleasure, but that wasn't really the case.

The two of you were generally close cause the two of you had many things in common, and could talk about a lot of stuff, like for an example, cooking. You never guessed that this man likes to cook but well, he does to your suprise. He also kinda opened up to you and you opened up to him too, so you guys were big safespots for eachother. The two of you just went to hangout with eachother but some of them ended up as a date, and well it was another occasion of a hangout that turned into a date when he asked you out. You said yes and well, now the rumors were now true. The two of you were officially dating.

Everything was good until the war had started. Vox asked his most trusted man to get you somewhere safe. Almost everyone except for your little group. The 5 soldiers and you watched as Vox was trying to fight the Shogunate's soilders were getting killed by Vox but then eventually overpowered him. As you felt your heart break after the Shogunate left victorious and ran away with the remaining people.

It took weeks to months to recover yourself from that war that happened, you tried going back living your life as it was but it was a pain living without the person that you needed the most in your life. Eventually more and more weeks that turned into moths that turned into years have passed and you gave up on your life even and even more.

It was another painful day in your life that you woke up to. You moved on with your life since Vox died, or well that's what you thought. You went on your day like you did for the past few years. You were walking on the market-street as someone came up next to you. You didn't really care until the person took your bag out of your hand and started packing more tihngs into it. You looked up at the person ready to antigonize with him until you realized who was standing next to you.

"V-Vox?" - your voice barely came out from your throath. He looked down at you and smiled then wrapped one of his arms around your shoulder and pulled you closer, looking down at you as you looked up to him. "I-... I thought you died..." - you said as your voice became more and more shakely.

"Well, I did not as you can see that." - he smiles at you. "Is there anything else you'd like?" - he asked as he gave a kiss on your forehead. You shook you head then he payed for the stuff that you and mostly him collected for the meal.

"H-how? W- what happened?" - you asked as he escorted you from the shop as he always did.

"I'll tell you everything okay? But now, I need to start plannign for the next war... since I have Kindred on my side now too." - he said as he looked foward and saw his newest army ready to fight.

Ike always liked books since he was a little kid, and so did you. The two of you met back in his early years as a writer. You always read his books, you were always the first one to buy his newest book, and well... you were on a trip to the market again to buy his newet book as usual. You arrived to the bookshop and bought the book, as you started walking away you bumped into someone and the book fell out from your hands as you fell down too.

"I-I'm sorry-" - you said as you tried getting up, your face red from the embarrasment.

"Oh no, it was my fault... are you okay" - a soft voice spoke to you. You opened your eyes and you saw him... Ike Eveland himself. Your favourite novelist, in person infront of you, and you had to meet him with you bumping into him... 'How embarraing' - you thought to yourself. Ike offered you a hand to help you up that you accepted.

"I suppose this is also yours." - He said with a smile as he gave you the book that you just bought.

"Thank you..." - you said as your took it from him.

"So you're the one that the book-shopkeeper keep telling me about." - he said with a smile on his face.

"What do you mean?" - you asked as you looked at him with widened eyes. He chukles at your expression.

"He always tells me when I drop by that there's a person who's always the first one to buy my books." - he smiles. "Would you like a signiture?" - he asks as he looks at you.

"I-... I'd love that but y-you don't have to... you're probably busy..." - you say with a happiness with sadness in your voice.

"I'm quite free right now." - he says as he signs your book. A blush creeps to your face as you thank him. "And also, I'd like to get to know the person better who supported me since the start of my career. So if you're free right now, would you like to go to the café with me?" - he asks you as he gives you back the book with a smile. Your eyes widen once more, the blush becoming more visible on your face as you nod.

The two of you started to hangout more and more after that day, and eventually got together.

It was another simple day, you were staying over at Ike's place, who was at his desk, writing his newest book. It was already late and you tried to get him to stop and go to bed since the dark circles under his eyes were becoming more and more visible. But he just replied with, "I'll finish this page and I'll go. You should go to sleep, no need to wait for me." - he said as he continued writing. You tried waiting for him but you were too tired and ended up going to sleep alone again. The next day when you woke up you were alone in the bed as usual. You got up to search for him in his workroom where you saw his still unfinished work but no signs of him. You went into the kitchen, into the livingroom, into the bathroom, but he was nowhere to be found. You started to worry but calmed yourelf with 'He's probably just out getting more suplies' but the end of the day came sooner then you expected and he was nowhere to be found and you were alone in the novelist's house. It was cold and empty jut for one person. You couldn't go to sleep knowing that he wasn't near you, so you took one of his shirts out from his wardrobe that smelled like him and went to sleep sucsessfully. But he didn't return the next day or the rest of the days. You felt hopeless... You thought he was sick of you and he left you purposfully, so you tried moving on ith your life.

It has been a few years since the incident happen, then you heard a knock on your front door. You put the book that you were reading to the side as you got up to open the door. As you opened the door, a familiar male figure stood infront of you. You didn't want to belive your eyes as you froze down.

"I'm back..." - Ike said as tears filled his eyes, and so did yours.

"Welcome home..." - You said as you jumped into his arms. "What happened?... where did you go?..." - you started asking a lot of questions from him as he held you tight.

"I'll tell you everything." - he said a he kissed your temple. As the two of you calmed down he told you everything that happened to him.

Our golden retriver- I mean Luca, our "evil" mafia boss. He's a big softie now, but he wasn't quite a big one when the two of you met.

It was just another day in your life, as you walked home from work you were thinking about making a shortcut to home, so you turned into the alley, and well you heard two people talking but you could barely undertand what they were saying, but you caught some of it.

"Is this her?" - asked the taller man.

"I think so..." - said the other as he looked at you walking past them. As you left them you picked up your pace but they caught up easily and put a cloth on you covering your mouth and nose causing you to pass out not so long after doing it.

You woke up in a room, you tried getting up from the chair that you were sitted on but you were tied to it.

"I would surroundings first if I were you." - a man said as he walked infront of you. "Do you know why are you here?" - he asked while smiling. The man had blone hair, a black dress shirt which's buttons around his chest were fighting for their life, leather gloves and white pants with black stripes on it. He looked handsome, like the man of your dreams.

"N-no? Did I do something wrong?" - you asked as your voice shaked a bit.

"I mean... you weren't the one who done something but your husband did." - he said as he started ggetting closer to you.

"M-my husband? I- I don't have a husband... I don't even have a boyfriend." - you said as you looked at him with widened eyes.

"W-wait... you're telling me that you're not Aya Cox? - he asked you with a worry in his voice which he tried to hide.

"N-no? I'm Y/N..." - you answered.

"A-are you really not Mrs. Cox?" - he asked as he started to panic even more.

"I'm really not her... you can check my ID if you don't belive me." - you said a you tried to hold back your laughter. He took your ID and as he read your name his face turned white like he just saw the dead.

"I-I'm very sorry-" - he said as he untied you. "To take a better look at you... you don't have as visible wrinkle's as she has." - he said as he stared at your face.

"I-... thank you i guess?" - You said as you stood up from the chair.

"Anytime!" - he laughed a bit then noticed your annoyed expression. "I-... sorry." - he said.

"It's okay... can you just let me go home now please?" - you asked as you took your stuff from the table.

"A-ahh yes... but... if you tell anyone that this happened-" -he sarted as he came behind you and lifted your chin to make you look at him above your shoulder. "You'll be my target then for real... and I won't how mercy." - he said with a darken expression on his face then let your chin go. "Anyways... Y/N... as an apology, can I take you to the best café in the city?" - he asked a his expression compleatly changed from a sadistic, blood thirsty mafia boss to a puppy who wouldn't hurt a fly.

"I- emm.. sure?" - you said as you tuned around taken aback a bit by his personallity change.

"Where do you live? I'll pick you up at 5pm." - he said. You told him and you thought that the drung's effect was still on you, cause you could've sweared to god that you saw his tail wiggling.

And well, he insited on taking you home too, and wouldn't let you say no. And then the next day came and you were going on a date with a mafia boss. The date went well and you questioned yourself multiple times that was Luca really a mafia boss or he wa just a child in a grown up's body. But well anyways, it was obvious that he fell in love with you on the day the two of you met, caue after that said apology date, he asked you to go on more dates with him, and since you couldn't say no for his adorableness, the two of you went on many dates and well, eventually got together. And after three years into your relationship he even asked you to marry him. (I-I'm not Luca biased okay?... I am but anyways-)

He tried to keep you out from his criminal life as much as he could since he didn't want you to get into danger, which he managed sucsessfully. He'd always ask some of his most trusted man to look after you on the streets when he couldn't be there with you, and if anything happened to you under the man's watch, he sweared that he'll kill them.

Well, it was just another simple day as you went over to your shared place, but he wasn't there so you thought he'll be back soon, but that didn't happen. You went to sleep thinking that when you'll wake up he'll be there. But he wasn't there. You asked his men if someone knew anything but noone did. You started getting more and more worried but still tried to stay calm. Many days went by, which turned into weeks, which turned into months then years. You'd think you've gotten over him but no. You still wore the engagement ring on your finger, or just kept it close to you. You didn't know wheter he was alive or not you were worried very much, but durring the day you couldn't show it, but when you got home your broke down a lot of times. The first nights alone you couldn't even sleep without him so you wore one of his shirt to sleep.

A few years passed since he went missing and you felt giving up on him coming back.

You were watching tv as you heard a knock on the door. "Coming!" - you shouted as you stood up from the couch and opened the door. You couldn't even open the door normally as the perosn standing on the other side flung it open and hugged you. If it weren't for his big chest in your face you would've thought that the one hugging you was a random person and so, it didn't take you long to hug your beloved back who was now crying and hugging you tighter as you hugged him back.

"Where were you?" - you asked him as you started to tear up too.

"I'm sorry... I'm really sorry... I don't know what happened back then, I just got sucked into some kind of hole and jumped into the future." - he said.

"Y-you what?!" - you pulled away from the hug and looked at his teary face.

"Yeah, i-if you don't belive me, you can ask M-Mysta Rias, cause he ended up there with me too." - he said a he wiped away his tears.

"I belive you, but anyways... first you should calm down and then tell me everything that happened..." - you said as you closed the door.

"Mhm... but can I get another hug first?" - he asked you and you couldn't denied even if you wanted to.

Since Mysta was a famous detective back in his original world, so I could only imagine that you met him when he was out in a case, and you were involved in it too, and you were a great helper of his. So you technically were his little Watson to his Sherlock. You guys started hanging out after that a lot, solved more and more cases togheter. The more time the two of you spent togheter the better you guys got to know eachother.

On a beautiful night he took you to one of the higher places in the city and asked you out. He was a bit akward but you thought it was adorable, and well you said yes and the two of your started dating.

Everything was good until he got sucked into the hole and got transported to another world and you were left alone. You didn't have time to process what happened at first since there were still a lot of cases that needed to be solved, but everynight when you arrived home in your shared apartment you broke down. You didn't know if he was alive or not, you didn't know if he'll be back ever again or not.

Crying yourself for the first few months didn't really help so you started busying yourself with work the cases that were still unsolved were slowly solved by you.

It's been almost 2 years that he was gone, but he somehow came back, and well the two of you were finally reunited.

"M-Mysta... you're finally back..." - you stood infront of the opened door, tears forming in your eyes.

"Yeah, and I'm still in one piece." - he said while having a big smile on his face opening his arms. You took no longer then a second to jump into them, burrying your face into his chest as you broke down completely.

"I have another case to solve at another city... Would like to come with me?" - he asked as he wiped your tears. You told him "Yes" and the next day the two of you were on your way for another city to solve a crime there. Throught the road he told you everything that happened to him, you could see the happiness and the sadness behind his eyes as you guys were talking on the train.

You met Shu in the modern world. You don't know how the two of you ended up together cause, one day you guys were still talking as friends, then the next day the two of you were dating.

The two of you met on the street at night as you were walking home. You weren't really looking foward, you mostly looked at you phone, watching your favourite Nijisanji EN streamer. As you were walking you didn't notice that someone took your wallet out of your bag, just only when a young man came up to you and tapped your shoulder. As you turned to the person who tapped your shoulder, you froze in one place as you saw the one and only Shu Yamino.

"Miss, this is yours?" - he asked as he held your wallet in his hand.

"A-ah yes thank you..." - you said a bit embarrased as you took back your wallet.

"It's alright, just try to pay attention of what's going around you not just only to your phone" - Shu said as he smiled. "Well then, be careful out there." - he said while still smiling as he turned around and started walking away. You were still embarrased and frozen in one place as Shu started walking away.

"W-wait!" - you shouted after him. He stopped and turned back to face you. "I-I'd like to thank it more properly..." - you said as you looked at him. "M-may I invite you to the local café?" - you asked hoping that he'd say yes. And he did, so the two of you met up at the local café the next day then the day after that too and again and the two of you started getting to know eachother more and more, then eventually became friends. The two of you hung out more and more and then just got together.

When he streamed you never bothered him, never wen't into the room, waited outside patiently while you watched his stream. Months and years passed as he arrived to his last stream. And well, it was his time to go home. You knew what you got yourself into at the start of the relationship but it still hurt seeing him go, even tho you both promised eachother that you'll keep in contact, but it wasn't going to be the same as being in the same room with eachother.

The two of you bid farwell to eachother and he left. You were alone again, you were friends with the other Nijisanji EN members but it was weird without Shu. Even tho you were with friends, you still felt alone. Since he left, you always went home more early cause it's just didn't feel right.

You eventually moved on with your life after a few months had passed, the two of you eventually fell apart and started speaking less and less with eachother.

It was another day in your life as you were just watching (Your fav streamer)'s stream as you heard a knock on your door. You turned your phone's volume down, cause you thought it was your neighbour who was going to complain about you watching the stream too loudly. Then you heard another knock so you put your phone down and went to the door. You opened the door and said "What?" from reflex. The person who was standing infront of you started laughing and then you realized who was standing infront of you.

"You never change do you." - he said as he wiped the tears from his eyes from the laughter. "So... did you miss me or you're just gonna stand there until the sun goes down?" - he asked as he opened his arms. You didn't really hesitate and jumped into his arms. He wrapped his arms around you as you burried your face into his neck.

[hallowxiu]

Gentle Monster

part 1

i will be posting this as a chaptered series on my a03 linked here.

characters: zombie!Beel, gn!mc

word count: 4.8k

Summary: You're living in a zombie apocalypse where your current struggles have brought you to a small town where you meet a strange zombie.

"The zombie, which hasn’t immediately attacked you, strikes you as odd. It doesn’t seem violent, but you know that can’t be true. If anything, it seems startled by your presence."

Autumn leaves rustle on the ground, the wind blowing them down the streets as you walk hurriedly. You’d left your house, your very own sanctuary that you built with your own hands, to run into town to look for supplies. You were stocked on most things, but you found yourself running low on medical supplies (you had a bit of a nasty run-in with a handful of zombies a few nights ago) and ammunition (for the same reason you ran low on medical supplies). 

For the last year, you were nearly sure you were one of the last remaining humans in your town. You hadn’t seen or as much as heard a peep from people, which was somewhat uncommon. If there were groups of armed people holed up somewhere, you would have eventually run into them when out on supply runs. 

The echo of your steps is the only source of sound in the otherwise quiet town. You can hear the faint grunts and groans of zombies in the distance, but the sounds aren’t close enough to draw any sense of alarm. Still, you had your hammer ready in case you were surprised. 

You weren’t feeling hopeful today with the potential outcome of your supply run. Medical supplies and ammunition generally were rare to find, but in a town where most humans were wiped out? Yeah, fat chance. You felt a growing pit of anxiety forming in your stomach. Never run low: that’s what you drilled into yourself whenever it came to medical supplies and ammunition. How could you let yourself get so careless? You should have never put yourself in this situation to start with.

Your eyes scanned over the abandoned and ruined buildings, moss and vines covering the exteriors and forcing their way inside through broken windows. Damaged bricks lay discarded and forgotten on the ground. Most places had already been ransacked by both you and other survivors. You knew markets had little to provide, and long-forgotten homes had been stripped of anything valuable they once had. There was, however, one place in town that most people avoided. The feeling of anxiety grows larger within you, threatening to break out. You didn’t want to go to that section of town, but you were low on options. You needed medical supplies and ammunition desperately; if you wanted to survive, you’d have to take calculated risks. Running a dirty hand through your hair, a shaky exhale forces itself past your lips as you head toward the town’s police station. 

The police station was a place to avoid for several reasons. However, the most pressing one was that it was located right on the outskirts of town. You tried to avoid the outskirts of town as much as possible. Zombies always seemed to linger in groups that could easily overpower someone traveling alone. The police station also had a small jail toward the back of the building, which became an issue once people started dropping dead and turning. Many of the prisoners were still in their cells, turned years ago. It was just a place you didn’t like to be around, but you also knew many survivors shared that sentiment. If you wanted to get the supplies you were so desperately in need of, you knew the police station would more than likely have it. However, there was a risk that you may end up using all the supplies just trying to get back out of the station. 

You stop short in front of the station. The building looks the same as the rest of the infrastructure in town. Something, likely a herd of zombies, had pushed in the front doors that were now barely attached to the hinges. Bloody handprints had been smeared on the remaining glass, and from what you could tell from where you stood, the inside didn’t look much better. You could see the center of the reception room, papers discarded and dumped on the tiled floor. Inhaling and giving yourself a false sense of confidence, you step inside the station. 

The first thing you noticed was how quiet it was. No grunts, no moans, no shaky breaths. Your dominant hand grips the hammer tighter. It was rare for the police station to be empty; there were almost always zombies roaming around the building. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears, pounding away as you scan the room for any threats. The air held a musty and metallic smell, and you could see thick layers of dust on the plastic chairs that sat haphazardly in the room. Slowly, carefully, you walk behind the receptionist's desk, looking for anything useful. Nothing, but that didn’t shock you. Survivors brave enough to break into the station usually only made it to the receptionist area. Not many were brave, or for lack of a better word, stupid enough to push further. Luckily (or unluckily), you were stupid enough to do such a thing. 

Moving through the reception area and toward the back of the station, you knew the likelihood of finding supplies increased. You swallow nervously, glancing around as you push through the building. Somehow, it became more nerve-wracking the longer you went without running into anything. The lights are out, thanks to the power outage from the outbreak. Still, you weren’t anticipating just how dark the building grew the further you pushed. You knew you had to be getting close to the jail based on the lack of windows. 

You blink several times, trying to get your eyes to adjust to the darkness. You hated being in the dark, something you didn’t initially have a fear of until you found yourself living in a world full of blood-thirsty monsters. Your mind would play tricks on you, conjuring up distorted images of things lurking in the shadows, hiding behind every corner. Whenever you found yourself in the dark, it became incredibly difficult for you to stay focused, to separate reality and hallucinations. You close your eyes, forcing yourself to stay grounded in the moment. Losing yourself to panic would only cause more trouble. Opening your eyes again, you grab a flashlight in your bag. Once on, the flashlight illuminates the room with a narrow tunnel of light, giving you an idea of where you’re at in the building. You had been right; you were in the jail portion of the police station. Lifting your flashlight, you freeze when seeing the outline of something right in front of you. 

Disorientated from the darkness, it takes your brain a moment to process that you are staring directly at someone or something’s chest. Before a scream can erupt from your lungs and you lose yourself completely to panic, you throw yourself back, trying to put as much distance as possible between whatever’s in the room with you. You aim your flashlight, the light revealing a zombie in the corner of the room, visibly startled by your sudden movement. You glance from the zombie to your hammer, noting that it’s of significant size for an ordinary zombie. It didn’t seem like a Griever, the deadliest zombie from the outbreak. That relieved you; you didn’t think you could take on a Griever of that size without a gun. It was the risk you carried when traveling into town; the sound of a gun firing could attract all types of zombies from all over. You were exposed enough as it was in town; you didn’t need to make it worse for yourself. 

You didn’t want to fight the zombie with your hammer. It was large and could easily overpower you. Your pistol is in your bag as a last option, but you couldn’t risk alerting more zombies to your location. The palm of your hand is sweating as your grip around the hammer tightens, your knuckles turning white. Cautiously, you take a slow step back, desiring to add more space between you. The zombie, which hasn’t immediately attacked you, strikes you as odd. It doesn’t seem violent, but you know that can’t be true. 

Without warning, the zombie lunges for you, its hands outstretched as it runs toward you. You force a scream down as you stumble back, unthinkingly swinging the hammer out in front of you, striking at the air. You back into something, feeling cool metal pressing against your back. It’s bars to a jail cell. 

Making a rash and sudden decision, you yank the door to the cell open, darting inside and slamming the door shut behind you. You stumble back against the wall as you watch the large zombie trying to squeeze its arms through the gaps of the cell door. Your chest rises and falls, eyes dilated and wide as you try to make out your dark surroundings. You must’ve dropped your flashlight in the struggle because you were again thrown into darkness. You place a shaky hand on your chest, trying to calm your nerves. You were away from the zombie, but now, admittedly, you were trapped in a pitch-black jail cell. The full gravity of your decision begins to settle over you. You have no medical supplies, you’re low on ammunition, you’re without a light source, and you’re trapped in a jail cell with limited food and water on your person. Feeling panic welling inside you, you struggle to keep it at bay. Throwing yourself into a jail cell has to be the most impulsive decision you’ve made, and it may just cost you your life. You’re only lucky that you managed to pick a cell that wasn’t already holding a zombie.

“Fuck.” You mutter under your breath, watching wearily as the zombie continues its assault on your cell. You had no idea how long it would take before the bars would give out under the zombie. Sure, it was a heavy metal door, but this was also a larger-than-average zombie. You had no idea the strength it held. You watch as the zombie begins to slowly lose interest, another thing that strikes you as odd. Typically, even if a zombie couldn’t reach you, it’d try to get to you as long as it could see you. Hunger was not something that ever went away with zombies. It was what drove them to survive, what drove them to keep going. You were a free ticket to a hot meal as far as this zombie was concerned, and yet… 

You observe how it still lingers by the door, its hands wrapping around the cool metal of the cell bars. It’s watching you closely, its eyes following your every move, no matter how small—the zombie’s groaning, something that sends a shiver up your spine. Regardless of how long you’ve been stuck in this hell, the sounds of zombies never stopped creeping you out. The zombie pulls weakly at the bars; odd. Why would it pull so weakly when you both knew it could easily apply more strength? You were at the mercy of this zombie, and surely you both knew that. Your eyes narrow suspiciously as you feel backed into the wall behind you, your back pressed flat against the cool, bricked surface. 

You needed to plan your escape, but escaping while this monster hovered around your cell wouldn’t do you any good. You lost your flashlight, and while your eyes have been slowly adjusting, you were still at a steep disadvantage. You still have your hammer, but you ultimately knew it wouldn’t do much in a fight against this guy. You could lodge it in its eye and run for it, but then you’re without a weapon. As morbid as it was, your only hope would be if another poor soul wound up here and took its attention off you. You never prayed on the downfall of another human, but if it was the only thing standing between you and getting back home, then you just might. 

You’re pulled from your thoughts when you see movement in front of you, watching in curiosity as the zombie slowly sits down in front of the cell door. It wasn’t like zombies to sit and wait for their prey; they usually just continued to groan and pound away at whatever was blocking them. This zombie was nothing like one you’ve encountered, and its odd behavior was only stacking up in front of you. “What are you?” You find yourself asking, knowing you won’t get anything in response. And true enough, you don’t, except for a grunt. If you weren’t so hung up on how to get out of this situation, you’d probably be taking notes on this zombie, trying to learn about its behavior and unnatural size and classify its type. 

It’s still quiet in the jail, something that hasn’t gone unnoticed by you. You wonder if the zombie in front of you is the reason for the lack of other zombies in the building. That thought sends another shiver up your spine; if this zombie could keep other zombies out of this building, how strong was this beast? Your grip on the hammer tightens as you try to keep as much distance as possible despite the cell door acting as a barricade. You chew on your bottom lip anxiously, your stomach already growling. Pushing the thought of food aside, you look down at your left ankle. It was swollen, ballooning in your shoe. Your ankle was the main reason you were out for medical supplies. During your last run-in with zombies, you sprained it when fleeing. However, with the current state of your ankle, you’re starting to suspect that you might be suffering from a sort of fracture, and you’re even more sure that trying to escape this zombie earlier only made it worse. You should have waited until your ankle healed more; patience in a zombie apocalypse was vital, but it seems it was something you lacked. 

Your ankle was throbbing as you sat, and you started to wonder just how fucked of a situation you landed yourself in. You glance back up to see the zombie still staring at you. It’s strange, but what’s even stranger, you think, is how you aren’t unnerved by its stare. You don’t feel anything. You shake your head, trying to steady yourself. If you get lost in your thoughts now, if you let your panic consume you, you are dead. There was no other way about it. So, instead of letting yourself get wrapped up in your head, you needed to focus on-

“H…el…p.” 

Your head snaps up, and your eyes widen as you scan the area as best you can while stuck in the dark cell. Was someone else in here with you? Was someone also stuck in a cell? A prisoner, maybe? Or someone in a very similar situation to yours? “Hello? Who’s there?” You didn’t bother hiding your voice, you were nearly positive that there was only one zombie back here with you, despite you not fully understanding what kind of zombie this was. “Are you injured?”

You were met with silence, and you felt your eyes narrowing in the darkness as you tried to pinpoint the direction the voice was coming from. “Hello?” You try again, waiting on bated breath. After what feels like an eternity, you finally hear a response. 

“Not… injured.” You’re confused by this. They’re not injured, but why are they replying as if they are? “You… injured?” 

“What?” You’re straining to hear the person, and the more you strain, the more you’re uncertain that you might be going insane and hallucinating the entire conversation. You’re so absorbed in this conversation that you inch yourself closer to the cell bars, your fingers wrapping around the rusty metal, the zombie the last thing on your mind. 

Suddenly, the zombie’s face is blocking your view, pressed against the cold metal bars. You let out a surprised yelp, throwing yourself away from the bars and zombie and back against the brick wall. The overly large zombie is pressing itself into the bars with its hands outstretched towards you. You notice it’s not moving aggressively but slowly and curiously. “In…jured.” Okay, now you know you’re going crazy because there’s no way you just saw and heard a zombie attempting to communicate with you. There’s just no way. The zombie points at your swollen ankle with its outstretched hand as if to prove a point. 

“Yeah… injured.” You repeat slowly, not quite believing that this thing is speaking to you. Or that you’re responding to it. There’s a beat of silence as the zombie stares at you, its head tilting. You’re unsure if it's trying to speak or thinking of eating you. 

“Why?” The zombie’s voice is rough and raw. You assume this is because its vocal cords are damaged, and possibly because it hasn’t spoken in who knows how long. You look down at your ankle, bruises blooming across your skin. 

“Because I sprained it. Maybe fractured it. I don’t know.” You offer lamely. Why are you talking with a zombie? Are you really that desperate for some kind of human interaction, even if it comes in the form of a bloodthirsty monster? You look up when hearing the zombie grunt. You’re unsure if that was a response, or just the zombie grunting for the sake of grunting. It’s still pitch black, but your eyes have somewhat adjusted. You can see the outline of muscles and the torn fabric on its dirty and bloodied clothes. It looks like a type of uniform, but you couldn’t figure out what. The zombie has shaggy hair and strands of grown-out bangs covering its eyes. Its hand is still out stretched toward you, the other clutching onto a bar of the cell. There’s dirt packed under its broken and chipped nails. You spot what looks like a nametag on the monster’s chest. “What’s your name?” You don’t know why you’re asking. Maybe to give the zombie some human element, to make it less scary. Or maybe you’re trying to prove to yourself that this whole situation isn’t made up. 

The silence stretches out, lasting so long that you almost forget the zombie is there. You begin to wonder if you did imagine the scenario. “B…Beelze…bub.” Huh. Odd name. You rub your hands against your face, crouching over as you try to comprehend everything. Odd name aside, the zombie answered your question. You asked for a name and it gave you a name. Which meant the zombie understood your question and has been asking you questions and responding in kind. 

“How is this possible?” You ask out loud as you lean your head against the brick wall behind you. You’ve never heard of this happening; you never imagined this happening. A talking zombie that isn’t immediately trying to kill and eat you? It’s as if you fell into a completely different world. Were there others like it? Was it possible for a community of zombies to exist? The zombie, or Beelzebub, only stared in response. Perhaps it was letting you think things over, or maybe its vocal cords were on the verge of giving out. You could also be crazy.

You lean back against the wall again, your swollen and throbbing ankle nearly forgotten. “Will you eat me if I get out of here?” It was a question you did but didn’t want to be answered. You were stuck in this situation because of it, and it did try to attack you earlier. You also figured you’d ask this before asking if it would help free you from your cell. 

“Y…es…” 

Solid. You managed to find the only talking zombie in town, maybe even the world, and it still wants to eat you. You’re not sure how to feel about that. You needed to think of a way out of this. “What if you let me out, you know, find a key or something, and then you don’t eat me?” Beelzebub stares at you with an expressionless face. You’re fairly sure you see it blink one eye at a time. However, a lightbulb goes off in your head; bargaining with it might work. “Uh, if you get me a key and get me out of here, without eating me,” you find yourself emphasizing, “I’ll help you find animals to eat or something.” You haven’t seen humans in town for a long time, so you don’t know the last time Beelzebub ate. Could zombies last for periods without eating? “So? What do you think? Pretty sweet deal, right?” You fully intended on ditching this zombie as soon as it lets you out. Hopefully, it can’t tell. 

Still, you don’t receive anything in response. It’s still staring. “Key? You know, the shiny metal thing that unlocks doors? Cells?” You make a gesture with your hand in the air, mimicking unlocking a door with a key. “You know? Key?” You’re starting to sound desperate; you’re also stuck in a cell with a talking zombie for company. Is desperation really that bad of a look? 

The zombie grunts before pushing itself away from the cell bars and standing up. It turns its back to you, shuffling away quietly. Either it’s looking for a key, or it got bored of you. You’ll gladly take either option at this point. 

You sit for several minutes, trying to brainstorm ways of escape with your near-useless ankle, while also being located in the back of the police station, possibly the most dangerous place to be in town. You were also without a weapon other than your hammer, and missing your flashlight. Maybe you could brute force your way out of here? Bang on the bars enough until they give way? No, that’s ridiculous. You could try lockpicking your way out; you’ve seen it done in movies before. Maybe if you found something like a paperclip or even your fingernail-

Clank.

Your thoughts are interrupted when you feel something hard and cold bounce off your forehead. You look to the ground to see a shiny metal key by your hand. Looking up, you see Beelzebub staring at you from the other side of the cell bars. “Really? You threw it at my head?” But most importantly, this zombie fetched you a key. You asked for a key and it retrieved a key for you. Whether it’s the proper key or not is yet to be seen, but still, you find this astonishing. 

“Key.” It grunts out and leans against the bars again, its expression unreadable. 

“Key.” You repeat and slowly lean forward to pick up the small object. “And you’ll let me unlock the door? Without trying to eat me?” You cast a suspicious look the zombie’s way. It only grunts in response, and you struggle to decide how to take that as an answer. Regardless, your options are limited, and you don’t have much in the way of supplies when it comes to food and water. Inhaling deep, you push yourself off the ground and force your way to the door. If it tries to attack you, you can always try to outrun it. Doing so might prove slightly challenging with your ankle, but adrenaline can do wonderful things for the human body. “Can you take a step back?” You ask as you approach the cell’s bars. Unlocking the cell with your hand outstretched, a feeling of unease washes over you. The thought of it potentially seizing your hand at any moment kept you on guard, emphasizing the need for caution. It could grab your hand at any moment and bite down, why wouldn’t you be hesitant? 

You watch in slight relief as Beelzebub takes a step back, and you quickly reach your hand between the bars to unlock the door with the key. With a loud click the lock opens. You swiftly slide the door open and run for it. You don’t bother looking for your flashlight or even checking for other zombies. You just run. Your feet feel heavy as they hit the ground and a searing pain swiftly travels up your ankle with each step. How long you could keep going remained unknown as you raced away from Beelzebub. It was a relief to know that Beelzebub wasn't a Griever, but its true nature remained a mystery. Could it match the speed of a Griever? Possess greater strength? These were questions to which you had no desire to find answers.

Running down the hall, you suddenly hear loud footsteps approaching from behind. The light from the reception area is just starting to become visible. You refuse to look back and instead pick up your pace. Your ankle is screaming in agony, but you couldn’t afford to stop now. This entire thing was a bust, and you knew you’d be getting out of this situation more fucked up than you were before. 

The light is an overwhelming assault on your eyes the moment you step foot into the reception. Your vision is white as you stumble blindly, your hands outstretched as you try to grab onto a nearby item for support. You had to get your shit together and fast. The police station was always a hot spot for zombie activity and you were completely exposed. You were blinded, your ankle was an absolute mess, and you only had a hammer to defend yourself with. As your vision slowly returns, a rough hand lands on your shoulder from behind, and you struggle to suppress a blood-curdling scream. You spin around, your ankle nearly going out in the process, only to be met with Beelzebub’s fogged-over eyes. 

“Human… lied.” You swallow the growing lump in your throat as you stare up at the monster before you. Now in the light, you can see just what you’re dealing with. The zombie’s tall, but not taller than a Greiver. It’s muscular too, which oddly enough, brings some comfort. Grievers were not known for being muscular, but that didn’t mean this zombie couldn’t seriously mess you up either. 

You noticed the uniform it had on was that of a police officer, and the nametag did in fact display the name Beelzebub. So, your zombie friend was once a cop and this is likely where it died and became a zombie. Interesting. “Human prom…ised… food.” You can feel a thin layer of sweat forming on your skin as its eyes bore down into you. Hopefully, it doesn’t consider you to be the food. “Human ran. Human left. I let… human out.” It seemed angry, that much was clear. Your throat was running dry, and any and all words in your head died as soon as they reached your tongue. 

“I, uh…” Could you seriously not think up any excuse? “Forgot?” On second thought, maybe it would’ve been better to stay quiet. The look on Beelzebub’s face tells you it doesn’t quite believe your words either. “Alright, look. I was nervous. Can you blame me? You’re a talking zombie and I’m your five-course meal. How am I supposed to believe that you won’t try to eat me the second my guard is down?  What if you call your zombie buddies to tell them you found the hottest meal ticket in town?” 

“Zombie… budd…ies?” There’s a look of confusion on Beelzebub’s face as it stares down at you. 

“You’re missing the point entirely.” 

“B…Beelze…bub hun...gry.” A sigh leaves you as the insistent zombie stands before you. You briefly check your surroundings. It was a risk standing in an area as open as reception. You were no stranger to the types of zombies that lingered by the police station, and you didn’t want to draw a crowd. You needed to hurry this up. 

“Look, if I feed you an animal or something, will you leave me alone?” You don’t know why you’re even trying to bargain with this thing; possibly because you want to get out of here and can’t outrun it. The zombie nods its head, or at least the best it can. “Fine, fine. Follow me and I’ll lead you back to my home. I have food there. Meat.” The word meat seems to do the trick, as the zombie’s eyes widen and it seems overall more aware. “Attack me though and I’ll kill you.” It doesn’t look very intimidated by your hammer or you. 

Once you two agree (if you can call it that), you look around the reception area. You don’t see any zombies lingering outside. It was just as clear as when you first came in. That was weird. Normally there are at least a dozen, and the fact that there were none when you first arrived or even now leaves a sour taste in your mouth. Uneasiness aside, you didn’t want to wait around for more to show up. “Alright, follow me. Stay close behind,” you turn around to narrow your eyes suspiciously at the zombie, “but not too close, and don’t get lost because I won’t come looking for you.” You couldn’t believe you were actually considering bringing a zombie home with you. 

You couldn’t see this ending well. 

[vmbrq]

LISTEN. JUST HEAR ME OUT.

charlie walker has zero shame in watching you walk around with a hickey on your neck or really anywhere that’s easily visible, because he wants everyone to know that he scored you. you’re his girlfriend. you let him leave that mark on you. you’re officially off the market.

ethan landry doesn’t mind people knowing that you’re his in the least, but he prefers to keep a lower profile when it comes to marking you up. he already receives enough ribbing and teasing from the rest of the friend group for being a virgin, he doesn’t really want the extra, unnecessary attention when they discover he’s not actually as hopeless as he seems. so, he prefers to leave them in places that typically go unseen. but if he happens to get caught up in the moment and places one somewhere visible, he leaves it up to you as to whether or not you’re comfortable showing it off.

but despite their differences, charlie and ethan are similar in that they’re absolute suckers for low-cut shirts and sweetheart necklines. it doesn’t matter if you have a large or small chest, they love leaving hickeys on your breasts just beneath your collar, just barely out of sight. no one needs to know about everything that transpires between you. no one needs to be imagining what you’d look or sound like with your fingers in his hair to keep him close and the neckline of your shirt tugged down so he can trail kisses and love-bites all over your chest. it’s like a little secret only you two are privy to.

sometimes, you can even feel their eyes on you when you’re standing with your friends or sitting on the opposite side of the room. their gaze is alive with an almost scorching intensity and fixated on the areas where the bruises on your skin threaten to peek above the collar of your shirt. you can’t help but fidget beneath the weight of their stare, paranoia and restlessness beginning to settle in as you discreetly glance down at your chest and adjust your shirt. she’s cute, they think to themselves with a secretive smile while you fuss over your appearance. they could just eat you up.