#stop settling for 2nd hand characters

[daisybell-on-a-carousel]

I hey I finally have a more soild grasp on the difference of perseverance and determination. My undertale phase can finally be appeased

[jasonswh0rre]

The Psychological Analysis of Jason Todd

I am a psych major, and my professor is allowing us to make an analysis of any character of our choice, so I figured who better to write then Jason Todd. This was very fun to write and I very much enjoyed rewatching Batman: Arkham Knight. Please enjoy. ☁️ Warning(s): Trigger Warning for Trauma, Mental Health Content, Violence, Graphic Imagery, Spoiler(s)☁️ Word Count: 2.6k ☁️: Authors Note: I am working on fanfics, more headcanons for Arkham Jason, unfortunately I am busy with classes, assignments and deadlines. I will try to be punctual but it may take time. Thank you for your understanding.

Introduction 

Jason Todd is the secondary villain in Batman: Arkham Knight, which has the same moniker. He is the second Robin and Bruce Wayne's adoptive son.

Jason Peter Todd was born in the slums of Gotham City to two drug-addicted parents, who would eventually try to settle a debt they had by giving Jason away when he was a baby. Jason received no parental figure to help guide him, leading him to petty crimes such as theft to nourish his survival. Jason is a character who takes what he needs if it means prolonging his survival; his lack of a parental figure leads him to an identity crisis between longing for a parental figure and convincing himself he is better off without one. When the simple truth is that every human needs a mother and a father, we respond positively to a nurturing environment, and through early adolescence, our brains crave the structure needed to build us into well-rounded adults. 

At fifteen, Jason inadvertently met Batman while committing robbery when Batman was fighting Gotham's notorious supervillain, The Joker. Believing Batman is in trouble, Jason jumps between pushing the hero from harm's way. Despite life's misfortunes, Jason possesses a remarkable code of morality enough to want to save someone. Jason, attempting to rid Joker of his breath, aims a pistol at the clown and, before firing, is knocked out of his hands by Batman's batarang. Unfortunately for him, Joker would leave Jason with a cryptic message, one for the young man to head.

Jason would later be apprehended and taken into custody in the back of a police car by Batman after Batman retrieved his gun and stolen money. However, rather than being charged, Jason receives a blessing through a Wayne Industries project that helped troubled teens; through the program, Jason was able to turn his life around. All attract the man who helped Jason find a new purpose: Bruce Wayne. Months after being released, Batman appeared in Jason's dorm, again offering Jason another opportunity. 

2nd Robin and Kidnapping

Taking Jason in as his ward as well as dubbing him Robin after Dick Grayson, Jason sought justice and enjoyed being a hero. Like the previous Robin, he showed a keen aptitude for it; unlike his predecessor, he possessed a fiery temper and willingness for more lethal force. While Jason's temper is directed towards the criminals that harm the innocents, Batman views this as inexcusable, fearing the day that Jason will kill instead of reprimanding. 

In the most twisted sense of irony, Jason's morality inevitably becomes his downfall. The Joker has blown up a school with kindergarteners; this leads to Jason's resolve that Joker needs to die. Knowing that Bruce would try to stop him, Jason abandons his comms and tracker so he can kill Joker. However, it is a trap, and Joker ambushes Jason. Jason was kept in a wheelchair, bonded by barbed wire that kept Jason leaning hunched over in excruciating pain. Throughout his pain, Jason's mind remained still; he was confident that Batman would find him; his sheer will at the beginning of his torture is, with all honesty, remarkable as Joker has been known for his mental abuse and mind games he plays with his victims including his sidekick, Harley Quinn. 

In the six months of his torture, Jason's unwavering mental resolve was slowly crippling as Joker had wanted; throughout the game, Jason's voice mixed with crippling fear and small doubts about Batman coming. The Joker feeds into his doubts by showing him a photo of Batman with his replacement, Tim Drake. This leaves Jason troubled as he slowly loses hope for Batman. 

The last act of Jason's torture involved a video sent to Batman via The Joker of Jason, who has undergone all his brainwashing; in the video, Jason is sitting down in a chair; he is not chained, barbed, handcuffed, or kept sitting still in any way by all means Jason could easily walk away. This is a significant and crucial part of Jason's torture as it symbolizes just how much mental anguish and emotional exhaustion Jason went through to the point that he no longer had a yearning for freedom—making him downright timid and submissive towards Joker enough to out Batman's identity when asked by the latter. This results in Joker shooting Jason point-blank in the chest, as Joker "never could stand a tattletale." However, this was only a ploy to make Batman believe Jason is genuinely dead.

On the contrary, Jason was kept alive for another year, endeavoring more torture, mistreatment, and malnourishment. Harley Quinn did the final touches of Jason's emotional and mental brainwashing; a former psychiatrist who manipulated Jason into believing that Batman was the cause of his anguish and his pain was his doing; she did this long enough, even punishing Jason by waterboarding him and electrocuting him when he refused to say Batman, indicating he still had some level of awareness of who was torturing him. 

However, once Harley could get Jason to say Batman's name, Jason was drugged and beaten by two prisoners dressed like Batman; he was given a gun by The Joker and was ordered to kill them. Jason's resolve and humanity were a cord, still entrenched in him before Harley convinced him further, snapping his humanity and getting him to shoot the two dressed-up prisoners dead.

During the riots of Arkham Asylum, The Joker paid mercenary Deathstroke to keep Jason there and shoot him if he escaped. However, Jason convinces Deathstroke that Joker will not keep his promise and that if he helps, Jason will triple whatever Joker plans to pay. Accepting the offer, Deathstroke assists Jason in escaping, stealing a helicopter, and flying to Wayne Industries. Jason steals millions of dollars from his former guardian. Ironically, crossing paths with Tim Drake, who assumes Todd to be Deathstroke's sidekick, when Jason's ankle is caught between Tim's grappling hook, Jason cuts the cord, allowing Tim to fall when suggested by Deathstroke that killing Robin would bode well for them with the Dark Knight. Jason Coldy says that if he dies in a fall like that, Batman needs to pick his sidekicks better. 

Jason's psyche has been torn and scattered, leaving him a hollowed carving with a mocking J branding etched onto his face, from birth his eyes were already met with darkness, born to parents who never showed him recognition, let alone love, and through the Wayne Industries Project and his adoption by Bruce his eyes were wide, and remarkably hopeful, to be free of the weight of Gotham's misfortunes finally; those eyes that looked with gleam forced shut until he saw nothing but blackness.

Arkham Knight's Birth

Jason adopts a new persona built on the pain and suffering in the wake of his escape from Joker. He feels betrayed by the one person he only had in the world and wants vengeance. Jason works alongside Scarecrow, one of Batman's enemies. The two begin a plan on Halloween to take Gotham and Batman's legacy along with it. Jason gathers all Batman's enemies to join, assembling a militia with Deathstroke. While working with each other, Scarecrow "tests" his fear toxin on the young man, sending him on a psychological spiral. One of his more apparent fears is the Joker, who can be found near, in the background, or standing right in front of him laughing and mocking him, but beyond the clown prince of crime's appearance, Jason also sees his replacement, Tim Drake, and "fights" him.

The fight has Jason severely outnumbered in the beginning, with Tim succeeding, even using his staff to choke Jason, forcing him to the ground as the Jokers around him laugh. Further into the fear toxin, Jason appears in front of Wayne Manor, where he throws down his helmet and says the following: "Someplace warm, someplace safe, someplace where I'm needed, someplace where I'm loved," Joker once again appears in front of him laughing and mocking him on whether he even deserves it, this is Jason's internal struggle in a manifested form of the person who caused him harm, of the person who convinced him from the start that he was alone and would not be saved. Jason is mischaracterized as always being angry or standoffish, but anger has more truth than any lie detector can scoop. Jason feels this anger is not just because of some personality trait; anger is his cry out, and he's shouting to be seen and loved. This is most likely due to being tortured at 15 or so, which, despite the fact that at the time of Arkham Knight, he was in his early 20s, his mental age was regressed to the age when he was captured. This makes Jason appear at first glance as someone emotional, cocky, and arrogant. He values safety and love; he doesn't want to be on his guard 24/7, but he's grown up in an environment where letting your guard down gets you killed. He follows Joker into Wayne Manor, where he sees Bruce; suddenly, several versions of Batman appear in the room. They beat him and told him they never wanted a partner or even a son. This is a conflict that has always waged war in Jason's mind. Jason's biological father attempted to give him up and then belittled him when he explained that Jason's worth was so low that he couldn't even leave him; he has low self-esteem that he internalizes into rage in the way that he fights to prove his strength. 

This is why Jason has a strong attachment to Bruce/Batman it maybe due to an underlying desire to seek his approval especially by the time when he adopts him. Bruce gives him everything he could ask for and anything he could think of, and Batman gives him a purpose. Ironically, this is still the case despite Bruce himself having an avoidant attachment style. 

Conclusion and Diagnosis

Jason Todd's character in "Batman: Arkham Knight" exhibits a complex interplay of psychological factors that align with the diagnostic criteria for Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD). One prominent feature of BPD is emotional dysregulation, characterized by intense and rapidly shifting emotions. Jason displays various emotions throughout the game, from anger and hostility to vulnerability and despair. His reactions often appear exaggerated or disproportionate to the situation, indicating difficulty regulating his emotional responses.

Furthermore, Jason's sense of identity is notably unstable, which is another hallmark feature of BPD. Having grown up in a dysfunctional environment with absent parents, Jason lacks a stable sense of self and struggles to define his identity. This is evident in his adoption of various personas, including Robin, the Arkham Knight, and, later, the Red Hood. His shifting identities reflect a profound inner conflict and a desperate search for validation and purpose. Jason's interpersonal relationships also reflect the interpersonal instability characteristic of BPD. He forms intense and unstable attachments to figures such as Batman, vacillating between admiration and resentment. His interactions with other characters are marked by rapid shifts in perception, alternating between idealization and devaluation. For example, while Jason initially idolizes Batman as a mentor and father figure, his feelings of betrayal and abandonment lead to resentment and hostility towards him.

Moreover, Jason exhibits self-destructive behaviors as a coping mechanism for his emotional pain, another hallmark of BPD. He engages in reckless actions, disregarding his safety to seek vengeance against those he perceives as enemies. His confrontations with adversaries are often fueled by a desire for self-assertion and control, masking more profound feelings of emptiness and despair.

Underlying Jason's behaviors is a pervasive fear of abandonment, stemming from his traumatic upbringing and experiences of betrayal. This fear drives his desperate attempts to maintain connections with others, even as he pushes them away with his volatile and unpredictable behavior. Jason's fear of abandonment manifests in his interactions with Batman and the Bat family, where he oscillates between seeking their approval and rejecting their authority.

Jason Todd's character in "Batman: Arkham Knight" embodies many of the core features of Borderline Personality Disorder, including emotional dysregulation, identity disturbance, interpersonal instability, self-destructive behaviors, and a fear of abandonment. By analyzing his actions, relationships, and psychological struggles within the context of the game's narrative, it becomes apparent that Jason's character aligns closely with the diagnostic criteria for BPD, providing a compelling framework for understanding his complex and multifaceted personality.

Besides indicating various symptoms of BPD, I would also consider diagnosing Jason with Complex Post post-traumatic stress Disorder (C-PTSD). Given Jason's background of severe trauma, including childhood abuse, neglect, and prolonged torture at the hands of the Joker, it's worth considering Complex PTSD. C-PTSD typically develops in response to chronic trauma and is characterized by symptoms such as emotional dysregulation, disturbed self-concept, difficulties in relationships, and a persistent sense of threat. I would include diagnosing Jason with Major Depressive Disorder (MDD): Jason's experiences of profound loss, trauma, and betrayal may contribute to symptoms of depression, such as feelings of hopelessness, worthlessness, and a loss of interest in activities. His struggles with emotional regulation and chronic feelings of emptiness could also align with depressive symptoms. Following my diagnosis, I am also inclined to believe he suffers from attachment disorders; given Jason's tumultuous upbringing and experiences and a multitude of parental figures involving neglect and abandonment, it's possible that he may have developed attachment-related difficulties. This could manifest in insecure attachment styles, fear of abandonment, and challenges in forming and maintaining healthy relationships. 

Furthermore, I would consider Antisocial Personality Disorder (ASPD): While Jason displays empathy and compassion at times, his willingness to engage in morally questionable or violent behavior, as well as his disregard for societal norms and rules, may align with some features of ASPD. However, his capacity for genuine care and loyalty makes this disorder out of sorts with his character.

Lastly, Post-Traumatic Embitterment Disorder (PTED): PTED is a proposed diagnostic category characterized by intense feelings of injustice, betrayal, and embitterment following a traumatic event or series of events. Jason's experiences of betrayal and abandonment, particularly by Batman and the Joker, may resonate with the symptoms of PTED. 

In conclusion, the character of Jason Todd in "Batman: Arkham Knight" presents a compelling portrayal of psychological complexity shaped by a tumultuous history of trauma, betrayal, and profound loss. Through a comprehensive analysis of his experiences and behaviors throughout the game, it becomes evident that Jason embodies many psychological struggles, warranting consideration for various diagnostic possibilities. Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) emerges as a primary candidate, given Jason's emotional volatility, identity disturbances, and interpersonal difficulties. His tumultuous relationships, intense fear of abandonment, and self-destructive tendencies align closely with the diagnostic criteria for BPD. Furthermore, Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (C-PTSD) offers another lens through which to understand Jason's psychological profile, considering his history of chronic trauma and its pervasive impact on his functioning.

Additionally, Major Depressive Disorder (MDD) may contribute to Jason's experiences of profound despair, hopelessness, and emotional emptiness. His struggles with attachment-related difficulties suggest the possibility of underlying attachment disorders stemming from his early experiences of neglect and abandonment.

While Antisocial Personality Disorder (ASPD) and Post-Traumatic Embitterment Disorder (PTED) offer alternative perspectives, they may not fully capture the complexity of Jason's character, given his capacity for empathy and genuine care, despite his propensity for morally questionable behavior.

In essence, Jason Todd's character in "Batman: Arkham Knight" is a poignant exploration of the human psyche's intricacies, illustrating the profound impact of trauma on identity, relationships, and emotional well-being. By delving into his psychological struggles within the context of the game's narrative, we gain valuable insights into the complexities of mental health and the enduring resilience of the human spirit.

[yourlocalstranger123]

Possessive reader x Albedo/Aether

Part 1

Note: I apologize in advance because 1, I definitely didn't proof read this, 2. I might accidentally forget to put in credits for the art and I already deleted it in the gallery so-

Important notice for the artwork!: Please read from left to right to know which art belongs to the artist. Also, some of the pictures has the same artist so I will number them and organize it. Tysm for reading. Hope you enjoy!

Characters!: albedo + Rubedo / Aether

Information of color: Albedo and Aether is orange/yellow and Rubedo is red. Tysm

2nd Information: You are a scientist or an Alchemist in Albedo/Rubedo. And for Aether, you're basically a rich person. [Which I want one in my life bc I'm broke-]

3rd information about my knowledge: I actually don't know about fake Albedo and when I came across a comic of him and Albedo and searched him up in Google, he was called rubedo. I don't think it's a Canon name and just a fan-canon name but I'll be using the name Rubedo

No pronouns are used, it's GN reader. No specific gender so it could be read as any gender. [I apologize that I also put tags of f reader and m reader with gn reader and not just gn reader]

Warning: The writing is very lengthy. Yandere Albedo/Rubedo?

@sc1ssor3

—`~☆~`—_.◇._—`~☆~`—_.◇._—`~☆~`—_.◇._—

Albedo + Rubedo

[1.] Artist: Poi_poifu app: Twitter

[2.] Artist: 0jae app: Danbooru

All 3 photos/Artist: @Kagura8999 app: Twitter

You were organizing your lab when suddenly there was a knock on the door. You quickly fixed your hair and coat, "Come in!" You awnsered. A blonde man comes in, smiling and slightly waving at your presence. "Oh, Albedo! Is there anything you need?"

'Albedo' paused. But then tilting his head and smiling. Although strange, you didn't mind. You flinched when a cold hand held yours and then something....soft was nuzzling it? You turned around and looked down to your hand, seeing 'Albedo' with his strange behavior, nuzzling his cheek on to your hand.

Your face quickly flushed with red, chuckling. You patted his head as he also nuzzled it. You tried to retract your hand, but his grip tightened as he stared at you. You became nervous and concerned but laughed it off. "Albedo? Did you take something strange again?" He looks down, seemingly ignoring your question. You sighed, sitting down as 'Albedo' comes joining you.

He leaned onto your shoulder, still holding your hand with his own. He trapped your hand with both of his hands and looked up to you.

"Do you like me now......Master..?" He said while kissing your palm. You froze, wait....is he calling you...MASTER?!

Your thoughts were interrupted with a door creaking. You looked at the door, seeing....Albedo?? Wait, why is there 2 Albedo's?!

"[Name]?! Why is he sitting with you...!"

You were cunfused, still wondering which was the true Albedo until you looked at their necks. Albedo has a star.....this one doesn't. Then who's the one clinging onto your arm?!

After things got settled, you found out that he was Rubedo. Rubedo was now sitting on your lap in your arms. You didn't really have a choice whether you let him or not. But unknownly to you, he was smirking at Albedo. Mocking him as his mouth word out,

'I got to be in their arms,' Rubedo said as Albedo grumbled. Feeling an unknown feeling bubbling inside him, jealously

Suddenly, Albedo grabbed your hand and shoved Rubedo off your lap. "[Name], let's take a walk around mondstadt"

You nervously agreed, not knowing what to do. It's even worse when you guys walk in Mondstadt town. Everyone was looking at you and whispering things about Rubedo and Albedo clinging onto both of your arms as they glared at each other. You were stiff, not knowing what to do.

You all three stopped when a drunk man began to stumble along the way to you. He began flirting with Albedo and Rubedo, saying that they should get to know each other. Your patience and anger were about to snap as you can see Rubedo and Albedo was clearly uncomfortable. Both were about to summon their sword until,

"Go fuck off for archon's sake! Who in their right mind would even think of giving you a chance to even "GeT tO kNoW eAcH oThEr?" So go away and leave us alone." You said. Mocking his words. Then you grabbed his shoulder, "And they're taken by me, so they are mine. Back off. " The drunk man angrily went away as everyone looked at the usual stress but calm [name] screamed in anger. And even curse?

Both Rubedo face and Albedo face went red. Like literally, red as a tomato! Even steam was coming out of their heads!! They definitely heard what you whispered to the guy. And when you wrapped your arms around both of their waist, making them come closer to you. (They shivered, from excitement and delight when they found your new side of you)

They both felt....warm (especially down there—)

You check on both of them, panicking as their face was still flushed red. It became worse when you put your hands on both of their foreheads to check if they had a fever. (If they can even catch one)

Then, when you guys went back to Albedo's lab instead of yours because Albedo offered to let you experiment with him and....Rubedo.

If only you knew, they made a contract to share you behind your back. At least they will be mostly at peace with each other. [Beside the people who made you uncomfortable or cause a threat of their love to you. At least their in the basement.....bleeding out]

Aether

[1.] Artist: Usaryun app: Twitter

[2.] Artist: Shoraln app: danbooru

Location: Liyue

It was a normal day as Aether finished the commissions, bounty, and requests from the people. He's been saving up mora to go to fontaine. He was extremely tired and even worser, Paimon passed out to the heat of the sun and thank archons that he had enough mora to rent out a room for Paimon to sleep in.

He went out and sat on a bench. As if he didn't feel or cared about the heat of the sun, he was sweating. Not even bothering to get some cold water or ice to help him. Later, a figure approached him, and he looked over as the figure was familiar to him. It was you! Oh, how he was overjoyed!

You guys met in Sumeru when him got stuck in some vines while you were traveling. Although you had a good laugh before you could get him out as he pouted. You gave him mora for laughing as an apology. You let him stay at your house and gave them food to eat as Paimon stuffed her face with it.

You decided to travel with him as he was planning to go back to Liyue as you paid all the expenses even though he offered to pay instead. You guys had to separate though for a few weeks because of your business, but now you're back.

You gave him a glass of water with ice as he gulped it down. He thanked you for your kindness as he leaned on your shoulder. He actually caught feelings for you after a few months. You always do commissions for him when he feels tired or injured. You declined small requests from people since some people won't do it themselves.

His heart almost jumped out when you held his hand. He was about to say something until a lady showed up. She kept asking Aether to help her in her house because she needed some cleaning. She still won't budge even when you told her that Aether wasn't available at the moment. Aether was tired, and he was about to apologize and decline, but you snapped.

"Lady, it's literally just some cleaning. Your house is probably not even that big. Stop being so lousy and do it yourself. Or go hire some maid and not a person who's way out of your league."

His heart fluttered when you said that. He slightly grinned. He was startled when you stood up, walking up to the lady.

"And also, don't you try to even take him away from me. He. Belongs. To. Me."

His face was dusted in red blush. He was yours...? He didn't mind though. He was happy. Perhaps you would come with him to find his sister. He thought,

"Ah, Aether. Is the hot weather getting to you? You're face is red"

"N- no! I mean- yes!"

He stuttered as he got flustered. You chuckled and turned around to buy maybe some cold juice for Aether. He looked over to the woman, smirking at the woman. Crossing his arms as he mouthed out,

'He's mine'

The woman stormed off, as Aether smiled at you when he saw you coming towards him. He wrapped his arm with yours and headed to Wangshu Inn where Paimon is probably looking for him.

[blahpanblah]

Before the new episode of the anime drops, let me drop this theory that I’ve been having for a year now and why I think it might come true in the next episode.

My theory is that I think 9S is going to die in the stead of 2B. Let me explain.

So far the anime has had some, on first glance big differences compared to the game. Like Lily living instead of Anemone, and Eve dying before Adam. And it seems like these things would be a major change, but in hindsight, it changes overall nothing. The most we get from it is a character study from those characters when they are put in these new scenarios. This isn’t a bad thing.

I believe that the anime is telltaleing the viewers, making us think these are major changes that might change how the story goes and maybe even change the the ending but in reality, no matter how it gets there, Ending A and B still happen the same way. This also isn’t bad thing

Where this theory falls in is this thought I had, “Would Ending C & D change that much if 9S died instead of 2B” what I think is no.

Let me put you in this hypothetical: Your 2B, YoRHA is destroyed and you just escaped with 9S, and while this is very much a bad thing, seeing that most of YoRHA units got the virus and are now killing zombies, in the back of your head. This is perfect.

With the death of the commander and the whole space facility destroyed, you have no reason to kill 9S anymore. There’s nothing he can find out. And even if he did there was no reason to. Yeah there’s still the machines that are responsible for this, but after all of that is settled, you're done, forever!

You can just live your life with 9S on earth. Never having to worry if this will be the day you have to kill him ever again. And in a way with the facility destroyed there’s no way to come from being killed. So they can live their lives like humans! Finally living lives without care! Finally getting those T-shirts.

First you have to find 9S. Stop the machines so they can get to the good life fast. And as you ask your pod to give you his location to find him. And as you get close, you run across this bridge, and when you're halfway there you see him! You yell out to him but then you notice something.

…He’s been impaled by a sword.

By A2 no less…

As he falls lifeless on the ground. Your mind begins to scramble. He’s dead. He’s dead, forever. He’s not coming back again. And you’ll never see his face, his smile, his voice, ever again. He’s been taken from you just when you're finally free.

And it’s all of A2’s fault

A2 killed him before she could even say goodbye. Before she could say anything! She killed him! Something only she was supposed to do! She gets to decide when to kill him, not her!

So she’ll kill her! She’ll take her away from this earth with her own bare hands if she has to!

So yeah, I don’t think this would change anything with C & D. 2B would have the exact same bloodlust towards A2 in this scenario. And that rage would have been manipulated by the red girls the exact same way, because I’m mostly sure, that 2B didn’t even know why she was killing 9S, all that he found out too much information, information about what? She doesn’t know. And the truth would absolutely drive her insane.

Also it is a bit suspicious that the first OP of the second half isn’t on YouTube officially but the ED is. Which said ED just happened to be about 2B. And Almost as if the OP is going to change.

And it’s also weird that the 2nd Cour trailers, even the most recent episode, only consist of scenes and voice lines from the first episode. And yet the 2nd OP pretty much spoils what happens in C & D, but the first OP didn’t. Pretty suspicious. Just me though

[wastelandmoony]

Déjà Vécu: Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Five : Mind Over Matter

Summary: Sirius has lingering trauma. Padfoot saves the day.

Characters: Remus Lupin/Reader, Sirius Black/Reader (no use of y/n), James Potter, Petter Pettigrew, Regulus Black, Marlene McKinnon, Mary MacDonald, Lily Evans

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI; language, violence, PTSD & trauma.

Déjà Vécu Masterlist

Companion Playlist

Read on AO3

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January 2nd, 1976

The rest of the winter break had been weird. There was no more mention of what had happened, but Dumbledore stopped by the house a few more times to question Sirius alone (much to her and the other boys’ disdain). Sirius had come out of those meetings moody and irritable, and refused to open up to anyone, including her. The bright side was that he was now living with the Potter’s indefinitely, and she wouldn’t have to worry about his safety anymore when they weren’t at school. James was over the moon about it, proclaiming rather loudly (and often) that Sirius was his new brother “by right”.  

At night, she would sneak into Sirius bedroom across the hall and sleep there until dawn. Nightmare had plagued him since he arrived at the Potters’, ones that left him crying and scrambling for breath as she tried to calm him down in the dark. Some nights he didn’t even recognize her immediately, panicking the second his eyes opened. She knew what Sirius saw in those brief moments between consciousness: He was back in that house.

She would hold him until the shaking stopped, eventually falling back asleep. When she heard his breathing even out, she would cry silently, careful not to wake him again.

There was an unspoken agreement that the start of school after the break would be a new beginning, and any talk of what happened at the Potter’s would be shut away. Just because they didn’t discuss it though, doesn’t mean it didn’t consume her every waking thought. 

As they entered the Great Hall for the start of term feast, she quickly grabbed Remus and made a beeline for the side of the table against the wall, forcing the others to sit opposite. Once they settled, Remus looked past Sirius’ and James’ heads and saw that his line of sight directly led to Regulus. He understood instantly. They couldn’t have Sirius see his brother. Not yet. 

Whether Sirius was aware of the intentional switch, she wasn’t sure, but he didn’t seem to show it as he jovially began to rattle off quidditch stats with Marlene across the table. For a brief interval, everything seemed normal. James was tossing potatoes into Sirius’ open mouth, Peter egging them on. Remus tried to conceal his laughter behind bites, and she couldn’t help but smile as she looked down the table and saw Lily grin at the antics as well. Everyone was alright.

So why couldn’t she breathe.

———

January 15th, 1976

Remus was exhausted, she could tell by the way he was sitting. His normal alert posture was now hunched over their shared desk in Defense, and every so often he’d stop scribbling notes abruptly, having nodded off and dripping ink all over the place. 

“Moony—“ she nudged him gently.

Another ink drop fell onto the parchment.

“Remus!” Another jab, harder this time.

He sat up with a jolt, panic fading to relief as he realized the surrounding classroom setting.

“Fuck…” he scrubbed a scarred hand over his face.

“What’s wrong with you? You’re never like this unless it’s after…you know,” she whispered, turning back to continue jotting down notes on counter jinxes. 

Remus groaned, choosing to write around the large ink splotches coating his parchment instead of wasting it. 

“Sirius—“

She scratched a letter a little too aggressively, “Is he alright?”

Sensing her alarm, Remus calmed his tone, “He’s fine. He just—can’t sleep, and it’s starting to affect the rest of us.”

She closed her eyes in frustration and sighed, “He told me he wasn’t having nightmares anymore…”

Remus scoffed, “Yeah, he lied. He has them every night.”

Her stomach sank, squashing the mild annoyance of Sirius keeping this from her.

The nightmares were terrifying, not that she knew what he was dreaming about specifically (though she could definitely guess), he always refused to talk about it, but she had been there night after night at the Potters’ when he would wake up screaming, tears running down his face. Even after she’d calmed him down, and sleep had taken him once more, he would whimper quietly. There was no reprieve, only reduction.

It had been one of her main worries since arriving back at Hogwarts, now that she wasn’t just right across the hall from him. Did the other’s try and comfort their friend? Did Sirius even let them?

Her voice dropped, barely audible to anyone outside of the boy sitting beside her, “…Is he still screaming?”

Remus gave a shallow nod.

“Fuck…��� she rubbed at her eyes.

Remus sighed, “I usually sit with him, wait until he falls back asleep.”

God, she wanted to hug him right there in the middle of the classroom.

“I did that too, when we were at James’ for Christmas,” she whispered.

“You snuck into his room?” Remus balked, “I’m surprised Effie didn’t catch you, that woman’s got her finger on the pulse of everything going on in that house.”

She smirked, “Every night.”

Remus raised his eyebrows in admiration. 

They went back to their notes, scrawling quietly while their respective brains churned. There had to be a way to alleviate the trauma plaguing their friend. She tried to think of a solution, silently bouncing thoughts between dream interpretation, potions and magical herb remedies, charms, and even muggle medication. 

Nothing was clicking. 

“Do the others know?” She didn’t take her eyes of the parchment.

Remus hummed in acknowledgement, “Prongs does, we swap ‘Padfoot Watch’ as we’ve been calling it. Pete sleeps like the dead, so he hasn’t woken up for any of it so far.”

Something began to form, a murky, barely-there idea in the back of her head. She froze.

“Say that again, Remus…”

“Say what? Padfoot Wa—“

There it was. A fully-fledged, entirely theoretical, idea. 

And it was shaped like a big black dog.

———

A little before midnight, she received a note in the sketchbook, the one she’d stayed up waiting for.

Come up. He’s awake now.

She raced to Gryffindor Tower, having to hide behind a suit of armor and duck into an empty alcove in order to avoid being seen by either a ghost or the new caretaker Mr. Filch. 

Remus had left the dormitory door unlocked in preparation, and she slipped inside as quietly as possible to not wake James or Peter. Sirius’ bed curtains were closed, but she could hear quiet murmuring coming from inside. Parting the fabric, the dim light coming from her wand illuminated the faces of Remus and Sirius, sitting cross-legged on the bed.

Sirius’ face shifted from alarm, to relief, to confusion in a matter of milliseconds. 

“Hey,” she gave a small smile, Remus moving over so she could join them.

“What’re you doing here?” Sirius’ voice bordered on disbelief, his eyes wide and glossy even in the dark. 

She fidgeted on the quilt, “I uh…I’ve had an idea.”

He gave her an expectant look.

“An idea to help you sleep…to maybe help with the nightmares.”

She watched as his shoulders fell in defeat. 

“You can’t,” he whispered, “there’s nothing you can do. There’s nothing anyone can do.”

“We can at least try to help—“

“It’s not your problem to deal with! It’s no one else’s problem but mine!”

Remus let out a low, sarcastic chuckle, “I beg to differ, mate. I haven’t slept in days.”

Sirius shot him a petulant glare, “I’ll throw up silencing charms then.”

She groaned, “Please, stop being so difficult and let us help. We’re friends, that’s what friends do.”

They stared at each other in the dark, waging a silent battle of will within the confines of the velvet bed curtains. 

Finally, Sirius bent, and she relaxed her spine just a fraction. 

“Fine,” he ground out.

“Brilliant,” she grinned, crawling up the bed to prop against the headboard beside him. 

“So what’s this genius plan?” Sirius drawled, arms crossed defiantly.

“Turn into Padfoot,” she smiled, “My theory is that if you’re in your animagus form, your normal memories and nightmares won’t manifest in the way that they do when you’re human.”

Sirius shook his head, “I’m still me though, when I’m a dog. I can still remember things, and people.”

“I understand, but I also think Padfoot has a way of filtering your human memories and emotions, almost making them more condensed and simpler.”

Remus laid down across the end of the bed and stretched, “Like the first time in the shack, how you told me you stopped feeling afraid after changing forms, that all you wanted to do was run and play.” 

“Precisely,” she nodded at him, looking back at Sirius’ contemplative expression.

He groaned reluctantly, “Fine, here goes nothing I guess.” 

With one last annoyed look in her direction, Sirius shifted, a large black dog left sitting on the bed. She scratched him lightly behind the ear, and he spun around atop the quilt.

Once.

Twice.

Then he curled up against her body, letting out a little huff. 

“You’re so sweet and quiet like this, Padfoot, maybe you should be in this form more often,” She smirked down at Remus, who gave her a smug grin. 

Sirius nipped her arm lightly, causing her to laugh softly and resume petting his head. 

The next morning when she woke, it was to the feeling of a tail wagging against her body. Cracking open an eye, Sirius was still fast asleep beside her in dog form, his paws twitching as if dreaming about running. 

[selfproclaimedunicorn]

Another Lame House Party (Yeah, Just Like Pick Me Up)

Fist drabble I've written in the Modern AU for my HOTD fic (can be read here) that involves the main cast & it's about a character we haven't even met because she hasn't been born yet. Lmao, oh well. Not my fault I've been rotating this scenario around in my mind for a while.

Context for the Modern AU: Rhea & Daemon divorced instead of him killing her. The AU is mostly unserious & is just an excuse for me to say "this person is alive actually" & to do things almost exclusively for The Bit.

Myranda is Yorick Royce’s 2nd daughter/4th kid, & Daemon’s grandkid. I talked about the drabble some here. The title for the drabble is a reference to this song. Warning for my actually being nice to this man for once.

Myranda sat on the curb just outside the front gate surrounding the Waynwoods’ property, leaned forward to prop herself against her raised knees. She hit the side button on her phone, the screen lighting up to show only a minute had passed since she last looked. She sighed, and the breath was shaky. She was not going to cry over Alfryd Tollet.

Tires screeched as the car came to an abrupt stop in front of her, and she barely even looked up as she stood and flung open the door. Grandpa D turned down the volume on his obnoxious dad rock as she collapsed into the passenger seat and fastened the seatbelt, he did not say anything and Myranda did not look at him either. She felt stupid and silly, sitting in her grandpa’s car after leaving a party early even though she’d begged for an invite; all because of some stupid boy who didn’t even like her and couldn’t bother to let her know that. She sniffed hard and settled further into the seat, crossing her arms as her lips, sticky from too much lip gloss, turned down into a pouty frown.

“Alright, who’s ass am I kicking?”

“No one. They’re all my age, Grandpa D.”

“I don’t see how that should stop me.”

“You’ll upset Grandma Laena if you pick a fight with him.”

He sighed through his nose, his one-handed grip on the steering wheel tightening for a brief moment before his hand relaxed again. When Myranda finally looked up, her grandfather was looking at her, a lopsided grin on his face. It was so similar to Aunt Ella’s and Griffith's smile.

“No parents, right?” He asked, tilting his head back and pointing towards the house with his chin.

“No.” It came out more like a question, but that was apparently all Grandpa D needed. He grabbed his phone, unlocking it and frantically searching for something before handing it to her. A paused youtube video of police sirens. Red and blue started blinking at the corners of Myranda's vision: the strobe lights stuck to the windscreen that Grandpa D refused to get rid of “for emergencies.” Everyone knew moments like this was what he meant, and right now she was glad of that.

The car backed up just enough to maneuver the turn, and Grandpa D sped through the open gates. Myranda smiled for the first time since she'd seen Alfryd kissing Yssa Sunderly, and rolled down the window on her side before leaning forward to crank the volume up and pressing play on the video. The sound of police sirens blared through the speakers as they raced through the property and towards the estate, the wind from the car's speed making her pale hair whip about her face and get stuck in her cherry flavored lip gloss.

As they sped closer, the muffled thump of music came and then abruptly stopped. Grandpa D made a wide turn, keeping the sports car out of distinct view but still close enough where the flashing lights were still visible as teenagers poured out of the house. Out of the front door and various ground floor windows, side entrances for the various wings of the home, someone even came from a second floor window and climbed down onto a trellis, standing stably only for a moment before crashing through the delicate wooden lattice. They hung for a moment, and Myranda saw them drop to the ground and take off running just before the car turned around to the back of the home.

The turn was so fast and sharp that she had to hold onto the handle above the window to keep from getting slung into her grandfather. No doubt he was leaving tire treads all over the grounds, but she didn't care right now. It wasn't like this was Grandma Rhea’s home, or Great-Aunt Alicent’s. It wasn't like there was going to be proof she'd ever been here.

The lights turned off in the Waynwood estate, and when they drove around to the other side of the house there were no more teenagers streaming out of the home. Grandpa D turned off the strobe lights and sped further into the grounds, stopping under some trees before shutting off the headlights and putting it in park. Myranda paused the video of sirens and rolled the window up. When she finally exhaled the breath she'd been holding since they skidded around to the back of the home, it was accompanied by uncontrollable laughter. Her fingers were sore from her white knuckle grip on the handle, and she flexed them as she leaned hard against the arm of the passenger seat.

It felt like forever by the time her snickering died down, but when she was quiet and still and looked at her grandfather again, he looked just as self-satisfied as if the task of scaring everyone out of the party had only just been accomplished. Myranda returned his smile, and she idly wondered if it was as much like his as her aunt's was. How much of himself did he see when he looked at her?

“Feeling better, then?”

“A bit,” Alfryd's rejection without the dignity of being told it outright still stung, “it was funny at least.” Scaring the hells out of him definitely felt good at the very least, especially if she imagined that he's who dangled from the trellis.

“So, what do you want me to say to your dad when he asks me why I brought you home so late?” He asked, turning the headlights back on and driving back towards the gates at an actually reasonable speed.

“Um…so what I told mum and dad was that I was going to be spending the night at Maecy's. Do you think I could just stay at yours and Grandma Laena’s tonight, and then I can just text mum tomorrow that Baela and Rhaena were there, so I asked you to bring me home when you came to pick them up?”

“Trouble for me but not for thee, that's your angle?”

“You're always in trouble with daddy,” Grandpa D rarely did anything right if he was asked, “and he's supposed to be helping Aegon prep for mediation tomorrow. So really, I am very considerately thinking of his valuable time and you were just trying to help because you love him. And me. Don't forget me!”

“Forget my favorite? Never.” He responded, chuckling softly.

“So I can stay with you?”

“I'm sure Laena will understand.”

“Thank you, Grandpa D! I love you forever and ever and I'll never forget this!” Myranda would have hugged him if he weren't driving. She settled for turning around in the seat to look directly at him as she smiled brightly.

He glanced at her briefly, bright purple eyes darting towards her before going back to the road. There was a grin on his face when he responded. “Love you too.”

[havin-fun-imagining-twd]

Still beating

What - dealing with grief as the dust finally starts to settle. Dealing with grief regarding one specific character's death in particular. You know the one.

Genre - heavier, but we get devoted husband/father Daryl out of the mix. And we don't end the chapter on a bummer, never fear. This ain't a French movie, slowpokes

Relationships - wife Reader and husband Daryl as well as your baby. Familial affection with Rick, and that balance between friend and clergy for Father Gabriel.

Perspective - 3rd POV Daryl, and 2nd POV You

Pronouns - she/her

When - time jump! we've briefly hopped to post season 8, pre season 9 (but before The best kind of damn weird). This chapter takes place during the earlier phases of recovery and rebuilding after the war. The previous chapter, Scary as a sleepy kitten, took place during season 2.

TWs - grief, PTSD (including after SA), depression, self-loathing, and some cussing. This chapter is also kinda lengthy, friends, and had to have exposition. (Might should've sliced the chapter in half, but then we'd have another two-parter on our hands :P)

But how long though? - ...20 minutes or so?

Story references and Masterlist link? - under the cut

And is there a pic at the end as a prize for finishing? - yes :D

Have fun and happy reading!

References to other chapters - what we learned in The Interview. There is also grieving/anger as seen in The first Christmas 'without' Part 2 and its conclusion in I don't hate you, a happy reference to Happy 8th of July!, reference to those lovely tugging strings as found in Invisible Tugging Strings, Part 1 and Part 2 (Part 2 I reckon is still glitched and showing as labeled mature, the poor thing's been cleared about 7ish times via help ticket XD ).

There are a lot more details you might recognize, pop on by to the Official Masterlist here, or for those who prefer linear over non-linear, the Chronological Slowpoke Masterlist here

-----------------------

Still beating

She was doing real bad. The past few days had been especially bad. Grief has nasty ways of settling in and rearing its ugly head.

He didn’t know too much about what to do to help her, he’d never been good at that stuff. And there was no fixing all that happened, especially not when the last thing that happened was the worst thing that could’ve.

Just like if TJ or Judith died, it was the worst thing. And part of his wife died right alongside Carl.

Hell, she’d been the one to wait after Carl died, then turned, to pull the trigger.

Now, she felt dead, too.

Gabe had to suggest that she check her pulse when it got bad enough.

Just at that moment, as Daryl was worrying and worrying, TJ started to wriggle and hum in an attempt to root at Daryl's bicep, which pulled him out of his own head for a second.

Gently, he began to bounce to try and keep his baby lulled. He knows Y/N wanted to breastfeed only to get her production up (and so TJ’s suckle could get stronger after the surgery), but Y/N was finally asleep.

Beginning with when Denise was killed, Y/N hadn’t been making as much as she first had. Then, the Saviors stopped the RV and surrounded them, and Negan did what he did. Then Daryl himself got taken away, then there was all the fighting.

And then Carl died.

Getting her milk to come back had been proving damned hard.

A handful of not-very-good times, they’d supplemented what milk she did make with watered-down formula and/or watered-down goat's milk.

One very bad time, they’d used sugar water to fill the babies’ bellies until Jesus got back with goat's milk. Just the one time they had to use sugar water, everybody made damn sure of that.

For now, Daryl could crack into what was still left of the goat's milk in the cooler, right? The two women in the Kingdom who had little guys had sent over actual breast milk with Carol a few days ago, but it was used up yesterday. That stuff had been a God-send, he couldn’t thank the ladies enough.

Between the two babies in Alexandria, TJ and Gracie, everyone had to be smart about using what (non-expired) formula was left. And given that the power got cut, keeping the goat's milk fresh was another problem, hence the cooler. The panels and power were back on, but it was spotty and he didn't want to risk the milk spoiling.

There was still a shit ton of clean-up had since the Saviors nabbed Alexandria’s storage, then firebombed the town. To make things worse, those assholes had their own compound destroyed, and Hilltop and the Kingdom got screwed, too. Even the beach women took another beating. Hell, and them junkyard people were literally all fucking gone except their leader chick.

So, Y/N breastfed the two babies as much she was physically able, all while working as the only other doc left standing in all five communities; she was running herself into the ground.

And with Carl gone…

It ain’t fair that she couldn’t make enough — it was Negan’s goddamned fault.

Which leads to what just went on: so Mich had told him, Y/N’d lashed out at Negan and the new doctor kid with the facial hair, what was his name, Sidney?

Daryl hadn’t been at the infirmary when it happened, but, according to Mich, she’d had to pull her out of the room. Once out, Y/N asked her about TJ, Judith, and Gracie to make sure they were safe, then disappeared after Mich had turned around. Straight up and bolted.

Daryl had checked the escape-closet first, but she wasn’t in there or the attic it connected to, wasn't on the roof that lead to.

He’d then checked the burned church. She’d been there, he recognized her boot prints, but she'd moved on. From there, he was able to follow her sooty tracks in the direction of the place he should’ve known to check first.

Sure enough, Y/N'd been at Carl’s grave.

His wife could barely look at him when he approached. He'd simply kissed her on the head and quietly walked her back home. Once home, he'd cleaned and bandaged her hand while she, again, tried to pump enough for the little guys.

Mich had told Daryl she’d get Rick for her, so he’d be here soon.

Daryl wracked his brain, he even prayed to learn what do to try to help carry Y/N through this shit.

At first, Y/N’d been pacing around the room, crying but trying not to, arms wrapped around her picture frame with a photo of Carl in it as if it was the only thing keeping her afloat.

He'd been able to persuade her to lay down, and ended up laying in bed with her and holding her tight, their baby next to them in little bassinet.

Initially, him holding her and pressing kisses to her neck had made her feel worse. More guilty, that is. A handful of days ago, something got into her head that she needed to give him a damn "annulment."

Nah, for real, she’d even said (to Gabe) that the two of them not having ever done the deed yet was "grounds" to give him one. “Grounds to free him,” were her exact words. It was a whole thing, and the couple of failed attempts at trying to do the deed after getting hitched some months back probably made her feel guilty, as if not having sex yet would make him not love her, or?

Father Gabriel had Daryl's back the whole time during the conversation, though, decent dude.

And no, Daryl wasn’t angry or even real hurt that she’d thought she had to ‘free him’ and shit, he knows it was the grief and physical exhaustion that got her to that point. His woman had full-on blacked out and hurt herself that day, which is why he'd brought her to Gabe in the first place.

But the, um, the walls were thinner than Daryl had expected, which is how he overheard from the person that he was gonna love and stay with and stay faithful to until he dropped dead softly confess that she was “selfish” to keep him “stuck” with a “batshit m-mess” like her and “a baby that ain’t his.”

The fact that Y/N kept maintaining how much she loved him and how she didn’t want no annulment helped it hurt less when she’d sounded just about convinced that it was “loyalty to me ’cause we’re close, loyalty to Rick,” and because of “he’s got so much shame. He feels responsible for what the Claimers did,” that made him marry her those months ago. "He loves our ch—my child, and might love me, but it's not fair to him. He deserves better, h-he needs better, the man's been trapped all his life. I-I don't want him trapped, I want him happy!"

Gabe never played into her fears. He been no nonsense about all of it, told Y/N that she needed a damn rest, and asked her to tell him what she thought about it when she woke up.

The good thing was that after a 5 hour period of uninterrupted sleep (during which they used some of the goat's milk for TJ and Gracie), she woke up in a daze at why she’d thought an annulment was something Daryl needed or wanted.

The bad thing was, she was then socked in the gut with more unearned guilt for it, then with worry that she was too far gone, or crazy, all that.

Been a bad, bad few days.

Been a lot of Daryl showing her love that she felt not worth being shown. So that she fell asleep in his arms today was such a damn win!

After getting up to take a leak and finding that Y/N was miraculously still asleep, he thanked whoever was up there, then tried to figure out what else he could do to help her get through today…and right at that moment, TJ started to rouse, so he got his answer: keep their baby comforted. More shut-eye could only do his woman well.

Deftly lifting the little bundle into his arms, he'd kissed the scar above the baby’s upper lip and tiptoed out to the hall, where he was now.

Lightly he bounced, softly he shushed. He held TJ like a football and moved back and forth, back and forth. Babies smell so damn good, and make the cutest noises, goddamn.

After a couple minutes, through the open door, he peeked at his Y/N.

Shit. She was already sitting up and blinking off the sleep.

Whatever it was she did and said today, she felt low as hell about it, that much was clear. Without looking, she grabbed the now-broken picture frame and clutched it to her middle.

"You're supposed to be asleep, slowpoke," he tried to tease.

Her clothes had ashes from where it looked like she’d knelt down then sat down in the burned church. There was some dirt on them, too, from when she’d been at Carl’s grave. Daryl made a note to shake the sheets out later and pick the tissues up off the floor.

That's when the front door opened downstairs.

Was that Ri—good, that was Rick’s voice, he was finally there. There was a second voice, too, was that Father Gabriel’s? It was soft like Gabe's voice was.

Daryl looked downstairs.

Yup, it was Rick with the rev.

He waved them upstairs, but it must’ve been the clunking of the Gabriel’s new cane that got Y/N stumbling out of the room.

“Rev! I would’ve come to you, y-you need to be takin’ it easy.” She hugged the picture frame in one hand, gripped the banister in the other and started to go downstairs, asking Gabe how he felt, urging him to sit down, had his vision worsened, all that stuff.

“Y/N, more rest won’t stop me from losing sight in this eye,” Gabriel responded in his quiet way, remaining on the second step, not going up or down the stairs. He smiled. “You could say I’m the one making a house call to a patient this time."

She held back a sob and bowed her head. Then, she subtly slipped two fingers around the inside of her wrist…

Rick stepped the rest of the way up the stairs and put his hands on her shoulders. “What's going on, weirdo?”

“Ricky, I'm s-sorry."

He leaned closer and took her in for a hug. “Heart still beating?” he murmured.

Her inhale was shaky. “Mmhm. Yours?”

“Beating strong.”

TJ perked up and began to whimper upon hearing her voice. Y/N unzipped her hoodie to—she still had a gun on her?

Okay, that'd been stealth as fuck, it hadn't even been printing. It was the mini one she'd kept on her when they first got here, when Deanna insisted on keeping the weapons locked up. Still, he'd been literally holding her, how in the hell had he not noticed?

Daryl shared a glance with Gabe. Minus her screwdriver, she'd turned in her weapons after what happened the other day.

Y/N handed the small gun to Rick, who looked wary, but accepted it without question. She hesitated before reaching into her boot to hand over her screwdriver, too.

Daryl slid his hand around his wife’s waist to guide her back to the room. Without looking him in the eyes, she cupped his cheek and told him he was a good father. Then, frame still gripped under one arm, she took the baby into the other.

“Let’s try havin’ a snack before I go with Uncle Ricky awhile, okay, chickpea?” she murmured, then unbuttoned the top of her shirt.

Daryl took off his vest to give her some more coverage, then helped her with her top buttons. When he draped the vest around her, she'd turned her head to kiss his hand. He felt his cheeks warm when she did that.

Walking into the room again, she softly told Daryl that he and Rick could sit on the beds. First, she placed the picture frame on one of the mattresses. Next, with their baby latched on and suckling, she went to the end table at the window to sit down on the floor beside it. The way she sat, it was kinda as if she were using it as a shield.

“Rev, please take the chair,” she mumbled to Gabriel with a glance at the only piece of furniture in the room at the time, other than the bassinet, a nightstand, and the end table. Negan had specifically left the rocking chair as a 'gift' for her. The piece of shit...

Anyway, Daryl had got them their two twin mattresses back (hey, squish them together and you get a big-ass bed) the first trip to and from the Savior’s compound after the war ended, once the folk from Alexandria had begun to move back from the Hilltop. Only, no bed frames yet.

“And sweetheart, I’ll-I’ll take the pumps with me for while I’m in there. Wanna make sure you and Aaron have enough for them,” she said to him, voice still raw. Y/N turned to him and gave him a wobbly smile. “Sorry I used up so much of the tissue supply,” she tried making light, but got close to tears again, so stumbled through asking “Can I, um, Rick, m-might can I bring my pillow? Is that okay?”

Go with Rick where, and take the breast pumps and her pillow, why? He made eye contact with Gabriel, who looked just as puzzled. So, he turned to Rick.

Rick lowered his eyebrows as if he didn’t know what she meant, either. He squatted to sit down on the mattress beside Daryl, and looked at his sister. “Y/N, where are we headed?”

Glancing up from the baby to him then to Daryl, she adjusted TJ’s position on her breast while she figured out how to answer, by the looks of it. Another glance at her husband as if she were worried about his reaction...

“Rick, I thought you was here to…escort me?”

?

Daryl had no clear idea what she meant, it was the rev who understood first.

“No,” Father Gabriel told her gently. “Y/N, you aren’t under arrest.”

Under arrest? Daryl fought between the urge to get angry or dead-ass laugh. 'Under arrest??'

It was for real, though. His wife’s tears started flowing again as she turned her attention to Rick and began to stress, “There can’t be no special treatment—”

“—Is this why you handed me your weapons? Why would you be under arrest?” Rick cut her off to question.

She stared as if he’d grown antlers. “I s-struck a patient, and, and—”

“—And I slit his throat open, which is why that 'patient' is in there in the first place,” he cut her off again, firm.

Thankfully, TJ let out a wail the same time she wailed, “Ricky, y-you weren’t his medic!” pausing any further arguing.

Y/N gulped, pressed down on one breast, then the other. “I know there’s not much in ’em, Teddy-bear, but it-it’ll get better. It’ll come back,” she shushed, lifting him up and tucking herself back in. With a few kisses, she shushed, “You’ve gotten so much faster at drinkin', babycakes.”

Daryl got on the floor with her and took TJ back.

She avoided eye-contact again, and her lip wobbled again as she pulled the top of her shirt higher. That told him there’d been not much milk in there. And he could see all over her face that it was switching her on the legs with more false-ass, unearned guilt.

The familiar string in his chest suddenly tugged in her direction—next thing, he was resting his forehead on hers. “Hey. You’re makin’ more every day, angel,” he whispered in her ear. "And you're a damn good ma." Then, he started to help her button back up.

The way her expression softened and her body relaxed toward his felt better than fireworks going off on the Fourth 8th of July.

And as if he were back in that Georgia-in-July heat, Daryl just about melted right there on the floor when he saw his TJ, neck lifted high, making a face-scrunching, gummy smile at him. "Look how strong your neck is getting, ’lil badass, you’re rockin’ it!”

Shit, their kid was the best damn thing.

Y/N leaned against him and reached to lightly fluff their baby’s hair and rub their baby's teeny feet.

Gabriel sat in the rocking chair quietly, hands resting on his cane. He caught eyes with Daryl and nodded his head toward Y/N, glad to see her no longer convinced she needed to ‘free’ her husband.

Absorbed in the photo, Rick exhaled, then spoke up. “Y/N, how about we start from the beginning? What happened at the infirmary?”

She pressed tighter against Daryl as a pained noise left her throat. “Did you talk to Siddiq yet?” sounded very small.

“I want to talk to both of you.”

“And Michonne?”

He nodded. “She told me some.”

The big watch she’d kept from Dale tick-tick-ticked on her wrist. Then came the sound of light metallic clinking. Daryl didn’t have to look to see that she must’ve pulled out her brother’s necklace and was tugging on it.

“What I did ain’t excusable,” came out raspy and thick.

“It is," Rick answered.

“It’s not, especially not what I said to Sid—” a sob choked her response. She used Daryl's leather vest to hide her face before hugging it around herself like a blanket.

“Walk me through what happened first, kiddo, before you hit Negan with this?” Rick subtly gestured to the broken picture frame.

So she had smacked Negan in the face? Hot damn, Daryl was more in love with her already.

Y/N swallowed and shook her head. “They’d been lookin’ at it, the both of 'em.”

“At the picture?”

A tiny nod. “I’d left the room, and when I got back, they was looking at it. Siddiq brought it over to him. Tried to make like Negan was sad, too. Fuck that!”

TJ started rooting on his bicep again, but Daryl was on it. “Sorry, pipsqueak, I don’t got the right parts for that.” He started to massage the baby’s belly, and TJ quieted.

“It’s okay to let ’em cry a little, it-it helps restock these,” his wife tried joking, nodding down at her chest.

“Y/N.” Rick was delicate about coaxing her for more details. “You got back into the room, Siddiq and Negan were looking at the picture.”

“Negan’s filthy hands were on it,” she grit. "Lookin' at Carl and me, you with Shaney." The sounds of the pendant being pulled across the chain filled the room along with TJ’s soft cooing.

“Is that when you hit him with the frame?” Rick asked.

“No. I told him not to look at it again or touch it, and if he did, I’d hurt him.”

“Angel, slow your breathin’,” Daryl interjected at the same time that he figured out why those words sounded familiar: it was similar to how she'd warned the last Claimer fuckhead, the one who’d had Carl pinned down and was gon——Daryl shut down this brain for a sec, it was best not to think about that night.

He turned his head to see Rick, red-eyed, tracing his thumb along the photo of Carl, Y/N, Shane and him. Seems as if Rick had recognized her words, too.

“And when was it that you did hurt him?” Rick pressed on.

Y/N swallowed. “About half a minute later when he tried to act like it wasn’t his fault.”

Rick’s composure staggered and collapsed. His voice was hoarse when he managed to say, “It’s not his fault.”

But Y/N was fast to shut it down. “Don’t for one more second make like it’s yours, Ricky, you get that monkey off your back,” she comforted and somehow scolded both at once. “Negan was doing what Negan does when he, when he told you that. It was manipulation, nothin’ real. How C-Carl—” another choked-down sob, more tears.

Daryl noticed her press her fingertips to the spot under her chin, beside her jaw, checking her pulse to prove it was still beating.

“Negan had nothing to do with how Carl got bit,” Rick whispered. “You know it’s true, kiddo.”

“No—our boy wouldna ended up out there, w-with-with Siddiq, if it hadn’t been for Negan.” Her tone got louder and angry, her stress stutter became more noticeable, the way she tugged the necklace turned rougher. “He and his followers was why we weren’t able to trust no n-newcomers like Sid, which is why Sid was still out there alone, and, and, and why Carl went to him! It, it was because of Negan and his, and his, his-his cult!”

TJ seemed freaked out by the louder voice, the baby’s dark, blue-black eyes grown big.

Daryl spoke Y/N’s name to try and bring her back to herself, but she seemed to have very suddenly calmed.

She was blinking at her hand.

Daryl looked, and then saw the two halves of her brother Shane’s chain, broken.

“How many times did Carol warn me that this would happen when I tugged it,” she muttered to herself. "Good thing I didn't decide to tug on the rosary, huh?"

Inhaling, she leaned her head against the wall behind her, staring into space, fingers to her wrist to check her pulse again.

From beside her, he covered her hand in his. Then, pressing his lips to her fist, Daryl took the necklace from it. He could fix it.

“I lost my temper again, I’m sorry,” she spoke to all in the room, her hand cupping Daryl's cheek a moment. Then, more quietly, she looked at Rick. “How many days’ll I be in there?”

Which sent Daryl straight back to disbelief he was hearing those words, what absolute bullshit. “Y/N, you ain’t going nowhere.”

“You’re not going to a cell, Y/N,” Rick echoed.

“No special treatment,” she softly repeated. “If I were anybody else—”

Rick interrupted her “—It’s not about who you are.”

Father Gabriel had gotten up and was making his way to Y/N by then.

Y/N shook her head at the conversation, tired. “If I were anybody else or had any other role, and if he were anybody else,” she caught her breath, “there’d be reper-re-rep—” a few more tries, and she had to choose a different word, “consequences. Assault and battery on an un-unarmed person—a patient—from their medical provider, that’s serious.” Her hand was back to covering her face. She sat pressed against the wall, knees at her chest.

“You and Siddiq are the only doctors left. We couldn’t just put you in a cell even if you had earned it.”

“I ain't a doctor, at best, I’m a medic,” she grunted. “And I did earn it, just ask him and Michonne. As for my,” she made a shaky inhale, “my duties, I can be escorted out.”

“And TJ? Gracie?” Daryl put out there, hoping to guilt her out of insisting she get jail time, like, what the fuck. What kind of conversation was this?

Screw this, he couldn't even sit. He stood, shaking his head and pacing around the room, still holding TJ.

The expression on Y/N's face should’ve been enough to calm him down, along the defeated, quiet way she reasoned, “I’ll pump and y’all will visit. It’s—no, sweetheart—it’s only for a few days,” when he started to dead-ass leave. As if her being in there ‘only for a few days’ would help this bullshit make sense.

But that’s when he ended up snapping, “This is goddamn bullshit! You bopped a sick fuck on the nose with a picture frame, who in the hell will care? Rick, why you even entertainin' this shit?” and he regretted doing so as soon as he barked it out.

The old, invisible knee rammed him in the nards harder when Rick cautioned, "Brother," and Gabe finally opened his mouth, and louder than Daryl had ever heard him speak. “She cares, Daryl. So do I.”

And to make it all worse, their baby had given a start in fear when he’d shouted, and now the poor kid was screaming—and TJ doesn’t scream, shit, shit, he blew up while holding his child?

“M’sorry! M’sorry," he hushed to his baby, "I love you so much, kid, I’m so sorry I scared ya. I ain’t gonna hurt ya.” With a kiss on TJ’s wild head of hair, he murmured, “Pipsqueak, your old man is an idiot.”

Y/N rushed over when TJ screamed, but she didn’t take the baby away from Daryl. Instead, she caressed her husband’s forearm and triceps and spoke to their child. “Your daddy’s got you safe,” she soothed.

He knew she was trying to look him in the eyes, but he couldn’t return it. He’d just scared an infant because he couldn’t check his temper. Their infant.

His wife’s quiet assurance cut through the rushing in his head. “Daryl? TJ ain’t hurt, sugar, and you’re not a bad father. Do some skin to skin, okay?” She pecked a kiss on his cheek. “And that's a dollar for cussing, pay up later.”

She then sat back down on the floor next to where the rev had made his new seat. Daryl took the now-empty rocking chair, unbuttoned his and TJ’s shirts, then nestled the kid on his chest.

Y/N then told the room the rest of what happened, how after Negan croaked out with what voice he had left, saying it 'wasn’t his fault Carl was dead', that she’d turned around and whacked him across the face with the frame.

Siddiq had reacted by grabbing her shoulders from behind to pull her away from Negan — so she had shoved back and kneed him in the dick plus rammed her head against his, dropping the frame in the process. The frame broke as a result—and when it broke, she'd lost her cool, said some shit, and threw some shit. Mich heard the hubbub and intervened, then Y/N hid herself away cause she 'knew' she was 'gone crazy.'

As far as Daryl was concerned, the new doc was lucky all he got was a shove, a knee to jewels, a clunk on the head, and some words and maybe a clipboard thrown at him, because Y/N could fight damned well. She'd had it drilled into her how and when to do it. Freely taught others moves, too.

When she’d showed Carol some techniques, way back, it was one of the things that sent him falling for her.

And…Y/N might’ve not said it out loud, but when she described how Siddiq grabbed her from behind to pull her away, everyone in that room got why it caused her to react strong.

What she described herself as doing would’ve been instinct.

Siddiq wouldn’t know why. Negan might, the fucker had watched the tape of her Deanna interview.

“See?” Y/N blew her nose again, sniffed, and stared at the floorboards. “It’s not right to Sid or the community to, to have what I did go unchecked. And what I said to Siddiq was so cruel. What’s worse is I meant it. Fuck, I still do.”

What she'd said was basically that she wished he’d gotten bit instead of Carl, and that it was just as much Siddiq's fault that the boy was dead as it was Negan’s. That 'he should be dead.'

She grimaced, then caressed the watch on her wrist. Must’ve been thinking of Dale. “Ain’t fair to…Negan, neither. If there’s anything Carl wanted us to understand, it’s that,” she whispered.

Rick lifted the frame to kiss his son’s picture, wiped a couple tears away. “When I talked with Sid, he was…alarmed. Worried. He thought it was off-character.”

Y/N went rigid where she sat. “Siddiq wasn’t there two years ago.”

Daryl lifted the baby higher on his chest and snuggled closer.

Rick shook his head. “You wishing someone dead, or, dead instead of another, is very off-character, it’s not you. No—don’t shake your head, Y/N.” Her brother maintained, “Even back then, after what happened, you didn’t wish me dead. You wished that Shane was still alive, not that I was dead instead. Even if you did say those things, it wouldn't have been the truth, just the hurt speaking.”

“I attacked you and told you I would kill you. And I-I meant it at the time, you know that.”

“And for a couple days, you left, because you didn’t actually want that. You knew it was wrong.”

“Which is why I need to get put away for a couple days. I decided to hurt a patient and his doctor, my own fr—” She wasn’t able to say what was probably the word ‘friend.’ Y/N bit her lip, and continued, “Then hurled words at him what nobody should get hurled at them.” She swallowed a cuss and grabbed another tissue.

“You’re exhausted, Siddiq knows that.” Rick pointed out. “We’re not ourselves when we’re—”

Y/N wasn’t having it. Probably too exhausted, to tell the truth.

“We’re all exhausted. C’mon, man, you just lost your son!” A sob left her and she tried to breathe through her nose. Checked her pulse again.

“You were also reacting to how he yanked you back, kiddo. That's not nothing.”

Daryl gave Rick a warning glance.

Rick saw, nodded, and held up a hand, which made Y/N turn to see what Daryl was doing. But Daryl simply kissed TJ on the head, not saying nothing.

She wasn’t fooled. When Y/N looked back at Rick after giving her husband a look of it’s okay, Daryl gave Rick another warning glare, then a nod.

“You didn’t react like that without reason, Y/N. There’s no shame to admit it was a trigger.”

She grumbled at the word. “Trauma ain’t an excuse to traumatize others.” After exhaling, she ran her hands over her face and took a moment. Hardly louder than a whisper, she challenged, “Ricky, not all my problems stem from the rapes. I’ve always been too hot-headed.”

At that moment, Daryl wanted to scoop her and TJ up and drive them away from everything, keep the two of them safe and unbothered for a month or two or four.

“Getting grabbed like that m-might, y’know, might could’ve reminded me of it—when they—" She ran a hand through her hair. "Okay, it did get me going. But, I,” she paused. “It wasn’t that I saw red or blacked out, I chose to keep goin’ once I’d started. I threw stuff because I was raging, I didn't want to stop because I thought he deserved it.”

Y/N fiddled with Dale’s watch, and turned to Father Gabriel beside her and almost smiled at him, close to the way she used to smile at Glenn, as if he were in on a joke. “Here I’d hoped I was re-domesticated by now.”

“Let us give thanks that you’re still housebroken,” he responded, taking Daryl by surprise. "You're...still housebroken, are you not?"

The way Y/N then cracked up and grinned woke up the butterflies in his stomach.

“Y/N, you’ve come miles since I first met you,” Gabriel told her softly, smiling back.

“All the way from Georgia,” she joked back, then grew more serious. “You’ve grown a whole lot, too.” She wiped her eyes, and Gabe closed his.

“And Y/N,” he shook his head. “You aren’t losing your humanity. I know you’re frightened of that, after what you told me happened to your other brother.”

It hadn’t even registered in Daryl’s mind that Shane’s memory would be scaring her. She loved her brother like hell, but she was always terrified of going down the same path he did.

He looked to Rick to see what his reaction was. His reaction was tear-rimmed eyes and a nod of his head toward TJ, silently asking if he could hold the baby awhile. Daryl nodded, Rick stood, and returned Y/N the frame as he walked by to pick up the little one.

Hands empty, Daryl took out his army knife and the broken chain from his pocket so he could fix his woman’s necklace. Wasn’t gonna be hard.

He heard Y/N whisper, “Hey, punk," to Carl in the photo. "Miss you. Miss you, too, loser,” she said to her brother's photo. He let his eyes travel to where she sat under the window, and watched her kiss the picture and well up. It was the old one of her and preschool-age Carl photo-bombing Rick and Shane, after one of them got some kind of cop award.

Clutching the frame once more to her belly, she and Father Gabriel then started to talk in low voices with one another.

“The red haze in your right sclera is so close to bein' clear. Did you talk to Rosie today? She’s been seeming less depressed.”

“I thought this was me visiting my patient, not the other way around,” Gabe gently hinted. “Y/N, please talk to me.”

Daryl heard her sniffle. “Rev, but I don’t want to have meant those words. I’ve been workin’ on it. It-it might be his fault, but I know he’s innocent, he’s humane—Sid even counts walkers like I do, man, yet still, I—” her breathing shuddered. “After whatever this mess is kicked in, every time I see him now, I hate him. Why do I hate a decent person?”

“Grief,” he offered simply. He gave her another shrug and small smile. “Keep doing what you have been. It will get easier every day, the same way your, um,” he was careful about his wording regarding her tits, “that you have more for the little ones every day.”

She huffed but didn’t raise her voice again, she stayed quiet as could be. “It don’t feel like none of that’s happening.”

“Our perception of things doesn’t always equal the truth, Y/N.” Gabe seemed to take a moment. Maybe he was praying.

Y/N’s fingers found her pulse again.

“We are all healing,” Gabriel next said, and smiled again. “Your heart is still beating, is it not?”

Y/N stared for a few moments, caught in the act. Eyes meeting Daryl’s for a moment, she removed her fingers from her neck, and inclined her head at the reverend. “What about yours?” she asked softly.

“Still beating. And that’s the proof,” he assured her just as softly. “Y/N, as for the way you understand your actions and your emotions toward him as not being right, I would like you to take it as a comforting sign. And, you just handed over a weapon you plainly wanted to keep concealed, you didn’t use said weapon to hurt Negan, either,” he pointed out, for which Daryl was grateful. “Perhaps, if you begin to make excuses, begin to feel no sense of having done wrong when you have, I will worry.”

Weirdly enough, he next grinned up at the ceiling. “But I am not, because you are simply broken and in need of healing. You’ll get there, as will I,” he held his hand out to the room. “As will your brother, your husband. All of us.” He sighed. “So long as our hearts are still beating.”

Daryl looked back at his wife in time to see her bit her wobbling lip and nod. Her gaze turned to Rick with the baby. He was kissing TJ’s scrawny little feet.

Her face softened seeing them, and as Daryl’s stomach fluttered again, she turned to look at him. His stomach full-on did a happy flip (and, yeah, he lost his grip on the necklace’s broken link and dropped it).

Y/N said to Rick, “Well, we still need to show ’em that Alexandria—that you—are accountable and fair. How many nights will do, you think?”

Rick shook his head. “Zero. But, because you have a point and won't take 'zero' as an answer,” he quickly added, “how about one?”

“For a piggy, you’re actin’ awful chicken.”

He was unmoved by the cop joke. “Bawk, bawk.”

And Y/N laughed, for what it was worth. And it was worth everything, hot damn was that laugh the best sound.

Daryl figured he might as well check, “What about bail, that still a thing?”

“Not with you owing a whole dollar. That’ll take weeks to pay off,” she said, back to doing her best to lighten up things. He loved her so fucking much, goddamn.

“Supervision when outside the cell,” she stated to Rick.

He shook his head again. “I have a better sentence in mind. When I saw you wearing Lori’s belt earlier today, it reminded me of it. See, and you left this at the infirmary.” He reached into his jacket pocket.

Recognition swept across her face when he held it out. “Do you think he’ll feel safe?”

“The headphone cord is too thin to choke him with, it’d snap.”

“Ricky, that joke was very dark,” she lightly chided.

He squinted, kissing TJ’s feet one more time first. “I hereby sentence you to one night—”

“—Three.”

“One in lock-up,” he spoke over her, then was fast to tack on, “with Daryl and this one as guards.” He motioned to the baby.

"Women shouldn't have male guards," she dryly droned.

"Overruled. You'll also get supervised outings for your duties tomorrow and the day after, including the trip to the Hilltop for Maggie’s prenatal visit. And,” he held up the music player, “you’ll need to listen to music with Siddiq on this. We know it works.” He cocked his head. “Let’s start with 20 minutes per day, like you and I had.”

Some tears slipped out even though she was smiling. She mouthed I love you to him, then asked out loud, “How many days?”

Rick squinted. “Fourteen.”

---------------------------

You

“You pick the songs. Whatever you like,” you told him, staring at the photo and rubbing the ‘22’ pendant over your lips. Daryl fixed the chain for you shortly after you’d broken it. You really love him.

Sid accepted the mp3 player out of your hand.

You and he each had one earbud in, one apple beside you, and Michonne sat nearby with Judith. Supervision was your stipulation, yet being proactive about ensuring it had done nothing for how humiliating it was.

Still, you took an objective look and figured Siddiq should know that his safety mattered, that your people were fair and held themselves to standards.

Just looking around the place, it looked as if standards were a given here. That Alexandria’s power grid and some panels were already repaired within two weeks of Negan’s razing was almost unbelievable.

Sucks for the Saviors that cult that the Alexandria community had been built to withstand up to magnitude 4.1 earthquakes and be fairly fire-safe as part of its self-sustaining (and for-politicians) model, so in the least, a good number of the homes were still standing.

Carl's gazebo was another story, as were other similar structures, like the church, but the ash had been washed off by the rain, and the communities' walls were back up.

Next to you, Siddiq asked you how to work the mp3, citing, “Carl had been the one to…”

Had been the one to work it when he borrowed it to visit you out there, in order to show you some kindness. Before he got himself bit because of you.

The words festered inside of you. Whatever. Let them fester, you felt dead anyway.

As you went to point to show him, the picture hung from your outstretched, bandaged hand. The pic you'd chosen this time was another older one from the before-times, not one of the newer polaroids. You'd been the one to take it, actually, using a disposable camera about five and a half, maybe six years ago.

It was blurry, Lori and Carl had been being silly and stopped posing, Rick was mid-comment. You loved this one.

It felt so unreal now, felt fake.

Felt dead.

You checked your pulse. Still beating.

“The, um, just use-use those two buttons there for up and down to search,” you mumbled, tucking the photograph into your shirt pocket. “That one is for back, that one for options. Press down on the middle to click.”

He went huh. “Here’s the Indian music playlist,” he chuckled. Appears he’d found the Desi Party! playlist. Carl told you he’d played it for him.

Before he’d gotten fucking bitten.

How could your heart rage and ache so much if you were dead?

“It’s got all sorts on it,” you replied blankly to Siddiq. Remembering your oldest sister who’d made all the playlists before handing her mp3 down to you, it felt like she was made up. All your siblings except Shane felt made up. Your own mother, the foster siblings over the years, they felt made up, too.

Felt like everyone before was made up.

Fake.

Dead.

“My mother was a big filmi fan,” Siddiq shared.

But you simply repeated, “Pick whatever you like, you’re in charge of the songs.”

There was no emotion in your voice. You didn’t want to chat with him, didn’t want to nerd out about Bollywood music, and also didn’t want to face him after saying such awful things to him early today.

Hating him felt right. It felt "deserved," which is a word you'd learned to not use, thanks to Dale.

Granted, hating Siddiq felt wrong, too, which invited shame to take a seat on your lap.

So, you followed the rev’s advice and took comfort in the shame because it meant your conscience was still ordered in a good direction. It meant you weren’t fully dead yet.

You checked your pulse again to remind yourself that it was still beating. Life was still going. You even have a child that fills you with such an intense, aching, healing love.

Father Gabriel also told you that feeling dead didn’t make you a bad mother or a bad wife or bad person, it simply meant you were broken and grieving.

“Y/N?”

“What?” you growled — and immediately wished it hadn’t come out that way. In your head, you told Carl you were sorry, you’d do better next time. Then, you prayed to stop hating the sight of Siddiq, the sound of his voice. Wished Dale or Hershel or Glenn or T-Dog or Deanna or Denise or Sasha were there for, for—advice, support, you don’t know…

And because the rev has enough on his plate and needs to rest, maybe later you’d risk everyone’s ire and sneak away to visit Mr. Jones at the junkyard. At least he wasn’t dead yet, too. Maybe visiting him would convince him to move back to Alexandria.

“I never apologized for pulling you backward like that,” Siddiq said to you, a little short. Couldn’t blame him.

In truth, you had done all you were going to do to Negan after smacking him the once, but Sid wouldn’t have known that. Wouldn’t have known how grabbing you like that would flip an alarm, either.

No use moping, if your positions were reversed, you’d have wrangled him back, too.

And yet, you just caught yourself licking your teeth and sneering in response to his apology.

But it wasn’t out of anger or hatred so much as…you still aren’t certain what the emotion was. Grief, depression, shame, all three. You supposed it didn’t make a difference. Didn’t feel like much of anything.

Briefly, you put two fingers to your neck to check your pulse again. Still beating. Still alive.

Alive, and needing to eat some crow, as it were.

“Don’t apologize, you were protectin’ our patient. What I did was wrong,” you recited. “I-I threatened a patient and then whacked him across the face.” Your conscience then prompted you to apologize again for what you’d said to him. “And, just—Siddiq, what I said to you was bullshit and lies and m'sorry I said it. Cruel bullshit, naught else. Don’t go believing a word of it.”

He wasn’t clicking through the playlists and songs anymore.

Appearing uncomfortable, he peeked at you before he put his attention back on the mp3. “Michonne said pulling you like that was a trigger, which is why you, um…I’m sorry,” he said again. “I didn’t know.”

First, you relaxed your jaw. “Ain’t your job to know. It’s mine to learn past it.” Next, you spackled on something of a smile and added quietly, “It’s good that you, that you stepped in. Thank you.” You did mean it, for what it was worth.

How many minutes until the twenty was up, you wondered, and tried to not be obvious about checking the time on your wrist. Eyeing Michonne, she seemed more preoccupied with Judith than with being punctual regarding your penance/sentence.

“PTSD is serious. That’s why I’m sorry, I, um,” Siddiq faltered. He went back to clicking through the music choices.

“We all have at least a little PTSD, bud.” With a light nudge to try and convey camaraderie or something, you attempted to tease, “C'mon, you chosen at least one song, yet?”

“Sorry, let me just, uh…” and with a few more clicks, the first song started. It was Bohemian Rhapsody.

“You chose the playlist ‘Songs Everyone Likes.’”

He chuckled awkwardly. “Yeah, figured I couldn’t go wrong with that one.”

The memory of belting out this song with Carl, Glenn, Beth, and Maggie before your group even found the prison whooshed back and you started to smile—until you remembered that Carl was gone now. He was dead.

You’d forgotten all of that for hot second, but your Carl was dead. So was Glenn. So was Beth. So was Lori, who'd joined, so was T-Dog, so was...

Maybe you were dead, too. You felt dead—so, you pressed your fingers to your neck to feel for a pulse.

Still beating.

The lyrics of the song began to register. You know, the early parts like ‘I don’t wanna die,’ and ‘carry on, as if nothing really matters.’ Sounded a little too personal, tell you the truth.

And just like that, the song was skipped. You glanced at Siddiq.

He shook his head. “Not the right mood for it.”

“Mm.”

The intro to the next song in the shuffle was very bouncy, and ‘Dance to the Music’ started to jive through the earbuds. You didn’t sway along like you naturally would have. No urge to.

The song played, finished.

“First time I heard this was in Shrek,” Siddiq made small talk while munching on his apple. “Love that movie.”

You might’ve hummed in acknowledgment, you aren’t sure. He handed your apple to you, you took it. Held it.

The next song started, ‘Young Hearts Run Free.’

The song played, finished.

Siddiq made more small talk. “I remember that one in Romeo + Juliet, the one with, um, Claire Danes? We watched that version in high school after we finished reading it.”

You hummed again. Pressed your fingers to your wrist, just in case. But no, your heart was still beating.

The next song started, ‘Jumpin’ Jack Flash.’

“A lot of oldies,” he commented once the singing began. He took the final nibble off his apple.

“But goodies,” you responded, willing yourself to sound less stiff and monotone. “Modern stuff is on this playlist, too, don’t worry.”

The song played. Finished.

The next song started. ‘Another One Bites the Dust.’ Siddiq promptly skipped it once the refrain started and the lyrics sank in.

“Good call,” you grunted.

The next song started. ‘Ain’t No Mountain High Enough.’

“Oh n—please skip this one, too." You loved that one, but you’d queued it up for Glenn at his and Maggie’s wedding, and it was not the time to go reminiscing. You swallowed the lump in your throat. Checked your pulse. Still beating. "Please skip 'Thunderstruck' if it comes on, too?”

The mp3 player clicked as Siddiq skipped the song. Next on the shuffle was ‘Under Pressure.’

He adjusted his seat and coughed. “This one fits.”

A combination sigh/groan was your contribution, because he was right. The two of you were the only doctors major medical personnel left standing.

The song played. Siddiq’s knees and wrists bounced to the rhythm where he sat beside you. You stared at your boots. Where’d all the soot and dirt on them and your clothes come from, you couldn’t remember…

…

It was when a strong gust of cold wind blew that you noticed that the music had stopped, your earbud was out, and the sky wasn’t as cloudy anymore.

When did that happen?

You sat up and blinked a few times, your apple still in one hand, Shane’s necklace in the other.

“Hey,” you heard Siddiq call.

What, why were your cheeks wet? “S-sorry, I,” you dropped the necklace, wiped your eyes with your sleeve, and put the apple down, “must’ve, um, checked out.”

“I’m not sure how long it was after it began when I noticed the change,” he let you know. “Is…this what happened earlier?”

You closed your eyes and shook your head. “Earlier was somethin’ else. This was just—” ‘Dissociation,’ was a misunderstood word, so Denise taught you. And you didn’t want to use the word for that reason.

You really wanted to keep a shred of dignity for yourself in the eyes of that guy. He didn’t even know that you’d hurt yourself when you’d ‘blacked out’ the other day…so, you decided upon a white lie highly euphemistic layman's term. “I spaced out.”

He nodded, but his brows sunk, as if he weren’t buying it.

And when he did that thing where someone slightly opens their mouth because they’ve put together a response, you changed the subject. “Listen to anythin’ good while I was in space?”

Siddiq wasn’t swayed. “Do you still feel detached?”

“A little,” you answered truthfully, inhaling deep and checking your watch to try gauging how long you’d been out. Except, you had no recollection of what time it had been earlier, so it was a bust. God save you, you were a mess.

“Sid. I’m sorry you’re trapped dealin’ with this shit, it ain’t fair to you. If, if you wanna bounce early, don’t feel obligated to stay, and, and—like, if you don’t wanna do this whole music thing, it’s fine. W-we don’t want you feelin’ unsafe.”

“Unsafe? Y/N, I…” he paused. “I forgive you for what you said earlier. And I’m not scared of you. Hitting Negan wasn’t okay, but…” another pause. “Compared to the way most others are baying for his blood and how you defended saving his life, I mean—you helped me save him, Y/N—” He lifted his hands, palms to the sky. “You’re my friend, we work together, it’s not like I can’t see that you’re drowning.”

Nothing prepared you to hear that.

He was calling you a friend and was still trying to be understanding, after all that…

You wanted to slam your head on a hard, rough surface and cry from the shame and simultaneous relief. You also didn’t want to accept it, and so pushed back: “You were alone out there too long. Friends d-don’t tell friends they wish they were dead.” And mean it, you did not confess.

But of all things, he merely raised one shoulder and snorted. “I’m a really good friend?”

Tears spilled at the same time that you almost laughed.

No, it's true, you almost laughed. Things felt a little unreal again, but in not a bad way. The most you could do right then was send up thanks for the mercy that came out of the mess. You pinched your wrist first, then felt for your pulse.

“Compared to a few minutes ago, do you feel more like yourself now?” Siddiq made sure.

Huh. You used to ask Shane a very similar question, when he was forgetting his goodness.

You kept feeling the small beats at your wrist, reminding you that you were indeed alive, therefore capable of healing and growth.

“Heart’s still beating,” you sniffled, making yourself smile at him. The hatred and disgust you’d felt earlier seemed to you less like a fact and more like a bad dream.

Then, from the far right of the oak tree, you heard Aaron’s voice saying, “Not yet, man, they’ve got four minutes left.”

Aaron and Daryl then came into view. They waved to you as they walked by with the babies, another reminder that you that you weren’t fully dead inside. Gracie was in a stroller, TJ was bundled in Daryl’s arms. Your husband lingered behind, eyes on you as he absently pecked a kiss to your baby’s covered head.

Something stirred, and your chest fluttered and tugged in their direction, reminding you again that your heart was still beating. So was Maggie’s, so was her and Glenn’s baby’s, so was Rick’s, so was Aaron’s. Life was still going. You had a child, a husband; lifelines. Their hearts were still beating, too.

The unexpected wink and the way Daryl’s gaze softened as he looked at you made you feel as if you’d been freezing and someone just handed you a cup of cocoa with mini marshmallows. The way he next moved his lips to pronounce ‘troublemaker,’ however, you ought to have seen coming a mile away.

The heaviness in your body eased a bit. A smile started prodding the corners of your mouth. Shyly, you returned the wave and mouthed ‘mangy hick,’ your wrist bumping against the photograph sticking from your shirt pocket.

Aaron noticed him acting like a dope lagging and gestured for him to keep up. “Four more minutes and we’ll come back to get her.”

Daryl called out "slowpoke," and waved your baby’s little arm to the two of you as they walked away. He kept peeking behind him, too, it warmed you. When they reached far enough, you once again took the photograph out from your pocket.

With a final peek at Carl’s picture, you sent up a prayer and reaffirmed the promise that you’d made to him. That you’d live for him, do him proud.

So long as your heart was still beating, you’d try to do him proud. “Seems you and I got four more minutes, Sid. What’ll we pick?”

-------------------------

> Masterlist link here

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---------------------------

And here's the picture prize for getting through the long chapter!

[angelfoodcake222]

I made this post posing the question the read along the lines of "How would these characters react to their friend or S/O, Y/N, coming home after a big fight that made them temporarily forget about a prescheduled meet-up at their (Y/N's) place?" or something to that effect. Here's what I have for the selected individuals.

TW: The reader [that's you] gets into a big fight, mentions combat, blood, violence, & bandaging. Comfort at the end of each. Reader is in a dress on Mac's part for "Fabric in the Midnight Wind" effect~.

A/N (Author's Note): I'm labeling this as NSFW as it is dealing with violent elements. I'll make a traditional NSFW version if this one gets some traction via reblogs. Since there is a lot to read in one sitting, I'll sever this up to the Three Monkey Bois for now. On with the reading, enjoy.

Monkey Trio x Hurt!Reader

Sun Wukong, The Monkey King

Translation: "I have a way to make you truly confident!" 🫣 😳

>Boy! If you never live to see a single soul genuinely worry for your well-being, Sunny/Sunshine/Sundrop would be the lone beacon of an example you would ever think of.

>Hey was just chilling on your sofa, munching on some peach chips you had stored up for him, snug in a pile of blankets, pillows & plushies while awaiting your arrival.

>He came in a bit earlier to get y'all's movie night all set up so you could both relax, watch some movies (most are his own but they're from your collection anyway, being the 2nd biggest SWK fan right beside MK although Sun could argue who's who in that arena), then have a nice conversation before falling asleep on the amassed cushions while basking in each other's presence.

>The door clicked open before it screamed from your falling into the mudroom portion of the entrance, closing with just as much force as you close it with your foot. You grunt from your prone position into an uncomfortable kneeling one with a bit of effort just to be jump-scared by your simian companion.

>"What happened!?" "Why didn't you call me!?" "Who did this to you!?" "Your knuckles are redder than my scarf!"

>You settled your index finger over his mouth prompting his lips to zip together momentarily as you spoke lowly, your crimson essence oozing from somewhere just behind your hairline & over your face like a scene out of a horror film.

"Sunshine, Sundrop, Sunny, I love you & all, but I have the worst migraine imaginable right now & I'd greatly appreciate it if you could crank the energy down to a two for tonight. Please?"

>You try to stand but the shifting upsets the injuries to your leg & head causing you to falter shortly. Luckily, SWK has you covered.

>He sweeps you onto the softest cloud you could ever imagine & eases you the the bathroom where he helps bandage you almost to the point of mummification, only stopping when your wounds' blood flow does.

>The apology for forgetting about the meet-up was quickly fanned off as he stated that he was just glad that you were alive & had the strength to make it home.

>Without a moment to process movement, you were placed dotingly in the nest of new & old fabrics as SWK spoke with you about what happened unless you didn't want to talk about it.

>Either way, the night draws to a close with the two of you subdued by slumber & a plumbing adrenaline boost.

>At times like these, SWK wished he had Macaque's hearing so you would always be safe. Always.

•Bonus points if Y/N's eyes are bloodshot to such a degree that makes them match SWK in a macabre way, be it from fatigue, something thrown into their eyes, or even some cheap temple-based shots.

(((The Six-Eared))) Macaque

>>This one got out of hand & pocket for me, I apologize.

>Mans was so proud of you, that's a fact.

>For obvious reasons, Mac is a special case. Y'know, with him being nearly omniscient & all that to an uncanny degree.

>He heard it.

>No ifs, &s, or buts, he heard you struggling & portalled to the parking lot you had been ganged up into.

>When he got there, he couldn't move as he was watching you take the punks out left, right & center.

>Looks like you had been watching him closer than he originally thought.

>True, you learned his moves to a T, but there were many new moves he had not shown you nor did he learn of these moves until then.

>He couldn't resist sneaking closer, hiding in the shadows of light posts, the building the lot is connected to, even in the shadow of already fallen opponents just to watch you. Admire you.

>He had never seen you, his patient, doting, tiny slice of divine decadency, go absolutely feral on a pack of semi-post-pubescent punks before or on anyone or thing for that matter.

>You were rage personified; limbs snapped like malnourished celery stalks, punches to the torso forcing their knees to buckle lending to your own knee's task of colliding almost mercilessly collide with its target's face with a sickening smack, your nails digging into their now-exposed flesh as the battle left you with no other option but to strip the young adult males of their slivers of protection.

>All of this started just because none of them, not a single one, could or would take "No" as an answer to their sleazy, seedy, downright disgusting "generous offers" which led to them ganging up on you in the store's parking lot which escalated to the beating the few alpha-minded ingrates were receiving currently.

>They tore your dress up anyway, this angered you to the point of whooping them as Mac had bought that for you. It was a simple, comfy, modest dress to match your overall vibes, nothing skimpy or gaudy, but you were not pleased.

>In the heat of the fight, you had dropped the groceries you gathered just for your & Mac's night together; plums, sweets, a well-sized but not massive blanket to cuddle under, even a horror movie the two of you have been meaning to watch together for months up to this point.

>While you handed the last opponent's own backside to them on a silver platter, Mac sneakily gathered the miraculously safe items from beside your bicycle so as to not distract you from your feral focus & set them into the basket, simultaneously watching you send the remaining idiot whimpering off like the cowardly cockroach they were.

>Once you finish scolding the crawling mess now at least a few yards from you, Mac chuckled.

>"Mac!? How long were you standing there??" Your primordial bloodlust plummeted once your eyes landed on the lone trustworthy male as he stood under the flickering, stained light of the decrepit lamp post you parked under so far from the store because of a rude worker who threatened you far earlier. His smile sent rosey tones over your face.

>"Calm down, Sugar Plum. I heard you having a scuffle & came to help. Looks like you did a lot more studying than just watching me in the Dojo, huh?" That iconic smirk of his sent your soft pink face into a richer red that singed the forming bruise on your cheek & corresponding cut into an agitated throb. He leans to remove his cloak/cape, settling it over your shoulders as the chilly night air starts to reach through your heated skin.

>"Even though I think you look absolutely ravishing like this, I am still upset about those creeps touching you at all." You cock your not-so-sore brow at him. A smart comment was forming but wilted as you looked down, frowning at your garbs.

>Yes, you could sew it back together but it was the idea of the garb that Mac had searched & selected just for you that made you sad.

>"I could always get another dress for you." You shake your head at his kind offer before smiling.

>"& miss out on having tangible story markers? No way! These rips may look unseemly, but they are important & signify lessons well learned. I can patch 'em up, Mac. No worries."

>You welcomed wounds & injuries with torn fabric to boot over a few self-learned lessons? He should take a page or two from your book.

>His smile reflected yours, with all the warmth & kindness you've shown each other for nearly a year now.

>The walk through one of his portals, bike & groceries in tow, & into your home's front entrance area was probably one of the calmest moments of your day.

>Like SWK, Mac gathered plushies, pillows & the only blanket you had that wasn't washing right then onto your loveseat sofa.

>He tried brewing tea for you earlier but tripped & spilled it on the mound of blankets while trying to bring the whole kettle, sugar/sweetener & milk/cream to the softest place in the dwelling, leaving the current one being the lone survivor in the soaking accident.

>It was patterned with cartoon macaque monkeys chasing uncanny anthropomorphic bananas. Cute, though this was a gag gift from a relative of yours. You kept it anyway.

>While he bandaged your semi-dressed form, you worked on the dress after getting most of the blood out of its fabric.

>If he wasn't so busy trying not to bind your wounds too tightly or loosely, he'd be peacefully watching your needle pass through the garb's wounds as it pulled the thread behind it.

>The rest of the night was spent with small talk & cuddles, snacks, & a long-awaited horror movie you both giggled through.

>Slumber followed soon after the credits rolled in. Well, for you it did.

>Mac stayed up, watching your bruised, bludgeoned, slightly bleeding form's chest move as you breathed, your heart's recently rabid pace now slowed to its calmest rhythm.

>He made a mental note to dismantle each & every one of those creepers mentally & physically in due time, a devout note at that.

>For now, he rests his tail on you as his dreams follow his arms carefully curling around your tender body.

>Unmitigated dreams of a bloodied, armor-clad you wooing him Fabio style did little to calm his heart rate.

MK (Monkey Kid)

>He was slightly different from the two later seniors in terms of setup.

>He had the comfy setup but it was all around your coffee table where fun, colorful board games sat in their boxes with plates of apple slices, fruit salads & favored drinks & dips placed near it. Video games acted as a backup plan this time.

>The real meal was simmering on your stove.

>He even made a checklist & focused on it with all his heart & mind.

>He only got distracted twice! You'd be so proud of him once you came home!

>This is where MK is teetering between SWK & Mac; he was sitting patiently, doodling for a bit until he sensed something was off, like Mac.

>He chose Mac's route to head out & find you ASAP but was hindered by your limping shape stepping around the corner.

>He would have apologized for not watching where he was going if it weren't for you asking him why he was out this late all by himself.

>Cue the SWK reaction: "What happened!?" "Who did this!?" "Let's get you inside!" All of this was said in one compressed breath as he ushered you through the front door & onto the cushioned floor.

>He rushes to your bathroom to find the First Aid kit you always kept filled to the gills with life-saving tools. "Lifesaving" being defined as bumps & boo-boos by MK's racing mind.

>When he turns to see what you're giggling at, you catch his temple with your lips, smiling admiringly at his reaction.

>"My hero~." You compliment as he falls over in a plumb of blush, still gripping the bandages leading to your half-wrapped limb.

>He regains his composure enough to finish his task & hug onto you, only leaving to make your respective meals.

>The meals, drinks & snacks were delicious, the board games were simple enough. You both came to a tie on a racing game, calling a truce in trade of small talk on the gathered bedding beneath you two.

>Sleep was a slow-moving thing when you were with MK, his excitable energy was contagious & activated by anything & everything.

>You both randomly plummet into respite as MK dreams of a cheesy scene based on your complaint earlier.

A/N: OK, this was a bit short, but I'll be making more of this later. Mei, Sandy, Pigsy & Tang are next! Find my master list here!

Finishes one piece/part of a series. Five milliseconds later, me:

[tessa-liam]

Marabelle

Chapter 3 - Falling

Book: Choices - The Royal Romance, an AU series 

Series Premise: An American teenager from New York City is introduced to the world of a small European country and its society of royalty, nobles, and commoners. How will her life story be transformed? Will this new adventure bring her happiness...or regret? 

Catch Up: Marabelle Masterlist 

Main Pairing: Liam Rys v F!OC (Sophia) 

Other Pairing: Maxwell Beaumont x M!OC Daniel 

All characters belong to Pixelberry, except Sophia Taylor, Bethany Beaumont, Melanie Smithson, Tyler Gregson. 

Rating: M*🔞Warnings: this series will have NSFW material, crude language. Not Beta’d: Please excuse all errors. 

Category: Alternate Universe/on-going series/angst/fluff 

Words: 2149, Read 10 minutes 

- 3 – Falling

Chapter summary: Marabelle is settled in her new home at the Beaumont stables. Sophie starts to prepare for the start of the social season that begins with the Beaumont Bash. 

Music Inspiration: The Climb - Lucy Thomas (Sophie’s FC) 

Falling - LeBlanc And Carr

A/N1: This is my submission for Choices March Challenge @choicesmonthlychallenge @lovealexhunt Prompts, Sunrise, Talking to Animals & art commission/moodboard     #choicesmarchchallenge 

A/N2: This is my submission for @choicesflashfics Week #25, Prompt #3 - "I haven't laughed like this in a long time."

A/N3: Bethany Beaumont, Maxwell’s mother, is originally from the US; is Barthelemy Beaumont’s 2nd wife. Annabelle Beaumont (deceased) was Bertrand’s mother. 

A/N4: Melanie Smithson is a love interest for Drake. Tyler Ericsson is Prince Liam’s personal assistant. 

A/N5: Social season in this AU series refers to a traditional period in the spring/summer for royalty and members of the court to take part in balls, dinner parties and charity events. 

🐎🐎🐎

Beaumont Estate

“Good morning, Auntie Bethany.” Sophie sing-songed as she entered the huge country kitchen of the Beaumont estate. 

“Morning, sweetheart, you are up early this morning.” 

Sophie nodded, kissing her aunt’s cheek. “Breakfast smells so good! What are we having today?” 

Maxwell smiled, already seated at the table, “my favorite...blueberry pancakes with maple syrup and bacon.” 

"mmmm...sounds good!" After pouring herself a cup of coffee, Sophie took a seat at the table across from her cousin as the waitstaff began to set down breakfast plates of food. 

“So, Sophie, tell me what happened yesterday? Maxwell mentioned that you found a horse.”  

“Yes, I did!” Sophie was beaming. “Oh Auntie, she is beautiful! Her name is Marabelle, and she is a retired Derby winner. She is black with white socks and has a star on her forehead.” 

“That’s so exciting, my dear! Maxwell tells me that she will be arriving this morning with the other horses that Bertrand bought yesterday.” 

“Drake and Melanie should be arriving very soon. I think I will get changed now to get ready to go help.” Maxwell finished his coffee and stood up. 

“Are you coming out to see the horses, Mom? "

“Oh, definitely, but I’ll let the horses be settled first, though. I don’t want to get in the way.” 

“Sophie, I will see you outside.” Maxwell grabbed one more piece of bacon and winked at his cousin. “I know Sophie won’t wait!” 

Sophie giggled at his comment. “Try and stop me, Max.” 

Bethany paused and looked at her niece, noticing the look of happiness and sparkle in her eyes.  

Unbeknownst to Sophie, Maxwell had already mentioned to his mother that it was Prince Liam who had arranged for Sophie to ride Marabelle for the first time.

“What’s that look for?” Sophie asked her aunt, noticing her grin.

“I am delighted that the boys found the horse for you so quickly. And, I hear that a certain ‘gentleman’ also had a hand in the find?” 

Sophie blushed furiously, “Yes, well, actually...” 

She hesitated, then blurted out, “It was Prince Liam.” 

Bethany looked pleased and patted her niece’s hand, “Well, that’s certainly a nice surprise. Prince Liam must think very highly of your riding skills to suggest a prize winning champion for you.” 

"I was thinking of thanking him with a small gift. I could present it to him the night of the Bash."

"That's a lovely idea, my dear."

"Auntie Bethany, for the Beaumont Bash this weekend, I am not sure what I should wear. Talking to Bertrand, he says to wear a formal ballgown. When I asked Max, he said to wear a party dress. 

What do you suggest?" 

"First of all, you will look lovely in anything you choose. Second, if I had to choose between the two dresses, I would choose the party dress. It looks more modern than the traditional ball gown." 

"Max invited the princes, shouldn't I dress more formal?"

Bethany chuckled, "No dear, I am pretty certain that the princes would prefer a more casual evening. I tell you what. Tomorrow, I am taking you up to the Capital to find your dress. We can pick up a gift for Liam as well."

‘...I may not know it 

    But these are the moments, that 

    I’m gonna remember most, yeah 

    Just gotta keep going...’ 

🐎🐎🐎

It was an hour past sunrise, as Drake maneuvered the long horse trailer into the driveway and then through the side gate of the Beaumont Estate grounds. Stopping alongside the horse stables, he texted Maxwell to come out and unlock the doors for the new arrivals. 

Unhitching the trailer door, Melanie stepped up into the long horse trailer and entered the main compartment. Upon seeing Melanie, many of the horses started to whinny. 

“It’s all right, this is your new home,” she spoke soothingly as she walked down the row of horses. Melanie loved talking to animals, especially the horses; she understood that they were social creatures and could display a wide range of emotions. They were definitely anxious, at the moment. 

“Good morning, Mel,” Maxwell, wearing casual jeans, jacket and boots, called into the trailer as Drake followed in after him. 

“Beaumont, there you are; I just messaged you.” Drake tapped his shoulder and began to also prepare the horses for their transfer to the stables. 

“Morning, Max,” Melanie called back, the horses nickering softly. 

“My two stable hands are ready for them.” Maxwell stated and started to help Drake. 

“Perfect Max, thank you.” 

The stable hands entered the trailer and began untying the horses from the railings. They led each horse inside the stable and settled them into their individual stalls. 

🐎🐎🐎

The Tavern Beer Garden, Capital 

Later into the evening, Bastien had positioned two royal guardsmen discreetly inside the beer garden, well before Leo and Liam were set to arrive. 

Drake and Rashad, already sitting at a table, watched as a black SUV rolled to a stop at the entrance of the beer garden. As Leo and Liam stepped out of the vehicle, Bastien approached them, “Your Highnesses, please follow me.” 

Leo didn’t waste any time in ordering a double scotch as soon as he sat down at the table. Liam greeted Rashad with a handshake, while Drake slid a cold beer over to Liam’s seat. 

“Why so wound up, Rys?” Drake looked over and questioned Leo with a smirk.   

Can you say M..M..Maddy?” 

Leo scowled back, clearly annoyed at his comment, answered, “Don’t go there, Walker.” 

The less time Leo had to think about Madeleine the better. Since she is betrothed to Leo, and rumors were circulating that King Constantine was planning to relinquish the throne sooner than expected, Madeleine had become unbearably obnoxious. She felt that she was more than ready to assume the role of Queen now and made a point of reminding anyone and everyone in the Kingdom that would listen to her.

Liam shook his head, knowing that his brother was agitated, and rightly so. His father’s announcement to his sons last week that he was gravely ill was a shock. News of his potential early abdication explosive. The tension of having to face an arranged marriage for Leo, palpable. 

“So, Liam, will you be attending the Beaumont Bash this weekend?” Rashad asked, trying to change the direction of where this conversation was going. 

Leo glanced at his friend, silently thanking him for correctly reading the room. 

“Yes, let’s see what Bertrand and Max have planned for this year,” Liam confirmed. 

Both Princes Leo and Liam were expected to attend, since King Constantine and Queen Regina were stepping back from some royal duties, letting the princes represent the monarchy.

 “I am assuming that you will be attending this year? I know that your father has asked Regina for assistance in finding you a marriage match.” Liam questioned grinning. 

Sighing, Rashad nodded yes. His parents were adament that he take a partner this season. “I hear that there are several new faces joining the social season this year. Anyone interesting?”  

Smiling knowingly, Drake joined the conversation, “one of the young ladies caught Liam’s attention yesterday. Isn’t that right Li?” 

Liam’s smile was huge, as he remembered his day with Sophie on the trail at the polo club and horse ranch, when she asked...

'I bet you’re used to putting everyone else first.'

'And why would you say that?'

From the short time that they had talked earlier, she already had an accurate insight of him. She asked about his thoughts and feelings, showing a genuine interest. They were having a heartfelt and sincere conversation. She had just met him! 

Gathering his thoughts into words, he began... 

“I have never in my life met anyone like her. We connected on so many different levels.  She is incredibly sweet, interesting funny, and had a great sense of humor. I could talk to her for hours. ‘I haven’t laughed like this in a long time.’” 

Rashad chuckled, “well, that answered my question.” 

Liam nodded, looking delighted, continued. “Sophie was more concerned about why the horse she was riding was startled that morning at the ranch, than about herself; she was fearless. 

...and when she found out about me being a prince, it didn’t change anything for her. 

‘No one’s ever seen me as just...me. No one’s ever listened to me the way she did.’ 

She brings a new, fresh and exciting perspective to everything.

…and her eyes, I could stare into those beautiful blue eyes forever! She is absolutely gorgeous, inside and out.” 

As Leo listened and watched his brother speak, he remained silent. He mentally erased his current thoughts and ordered another drink.

🐎🐎🐎

Beaumont Stables 

Drake and Melanie had already left to drive the trailer back to the horse ranch.

Maxwell was speaking to the stable hands when Sophie entered the stable to see Marabelle. 

"Hi guys, good morning," Sophie greeted.

"There she is, ready to ride Marabelle?" Maxwell smiled.

"Yes, yes," Sophie exclaimed, excitedly.

The stablehands led Sophie into the stall where Marabelle was standing.

"Hey girl! Come here," Sophie cooed as she stroked Marabelle's neck.

Marabelle nickered happily in return, nuzzling her cheek.

"Come on then, let's get you saddled up. We're riding today."

🐎🐎🐎

Sophie rode Marabelle down to the winding stream, that was adjacent to the vineyard of the estate.

Memories flooded back of her time with Liam.

'We walked together hoping forever, please don't let go of my hand,

cause I'm falling, woah, I'm falling in love with you'

⚜️using my tag list, please let me know if you would like to be added or removed

[tar-maitime]

talking to the air

Rating: T Characters: Maedhros | Maitimo Relationships: Maedhros/Fingon, fem!Maedhros/Fingon, Maedhros & Sons of Feanor, Maedhros & Maglor & Elrond & Elros (mentioned) Additional: post-Nirnaeth, 2nd & 3rd kinslayings, War of Wrath, grief and mourning, background kidnap fam and gil-galad russingonion for flavor WC: 1.5k

Four times Maedhros talked to Fingon when he wasn't there...

“Why did you do it, you mad, mad fool?”

Maedhros half-shouts it through gritted teeth, pacing back and forth in her room in Amon Ereb. Her brothers can probably hear her ranting, but they know to leave it alone. They’re not who she’s talking to, anyway.

If she keeps the bed out of her line of sight, she can almost trick herself into believing that he’s sitting there actually listening. He’s not, he’s gone, gone, gone, and the gaping dark place in the back of her mind proves it, but she can pretend.

“Why were you on the front line to begin with? Have we not lost enough kings that way? Why couldn’t you have commanded from somewhere safer? Why couldn’t you have run, at least tried to run, when we knew we couldn’t win? Why did you have to be the hero?”

She knows why, of course, even without him here to tell her. Fingon was good and noble and would never ask his people to spend their lives without his being right alongside them. It is horrible and selfish of Maedhros to wish otherwise, to wish he had let just a few people lay down their lives for his instead of...

“You left me,” she spits out bitterly. “You left me, Finno. How could you do that? How could you expect me to forgive that?”

She sobs, and her knees go out from under her. “How can you forgive me for leaving you first, for retreating? I’m sorry, Finnonya, I’m so sorry.”

- - -

“I miss you.”

She says it almost casually, looking out from Amon Ereb’s battlements in the early morning. “It still hurts, every day - so badly some days, Finno - but I’m learning to live with it.”

It’s barely dawn; no one else is around. Maedhros has made sure to do this absolutely alone ever since the time, a few months ago, when Maglor had caught her at it and ventured to ask if Fingon was haunting her as a houseless spirit, tethered to her somehow. She’s snarled at him, spat that she could never be that selfish, that Fingon’s spirit was safe in Mandos and if he couldn’t have lived, then that was best.

There’s no one actually here that she’s talking to; she is sane enough still to know that. But it brings her comfort even so.

“It doesn’t feel like I should be able to. It doesn’t feel like we should still be living at all, sometimes, when so much is lost. But if we just stop, then Morgoth wins again, and I don’t know that I’m capable of that.”

She looks out over the mist that’s slowly parting to reveal the shape of the land, and leans on the parapet. She pretends, just for a moment, that she can feel the warmth of a familiar body leaning next to her, on her left where her vision’s never been quite right since Angband. 

“I think we’re settling in here, as much as we can settle in anywhere,” she comments. “It’s strange, to have a home that I’ve never gotten to show you. Everywhere else I’ve lived, you got to visit. I almost wish we’d come down here sometime, before the Bragollach, just so that I could have known you saw it with me.”

She pauses. “And no, watching the tapestries in the Halls doesn’t count. If you are.”

On her more self-loathing days, she thinks he couldn’t possibly want to waste more time being bothered about her. On her more cynical days, she thinks the Valar would never allow him the kindness of remaining informed about events on this side of the Sea. But this morning is neither, and she indulges in the pleasant thought that Fingon might know she’s talking to him, even though he isn’t here.

She spends a handful of minutes telling him the news of Amon Ereb, and the small doings of her brothers, before she has to begin her day in truth.

- - -

“I can’t do this. I can’t - I can’t do this.”

Maedhros sits on the edge of her bed, hunched over. She drags her fingers through her hair - still shorn close, all these years later - and tries to control her breathing. 

“I don’t know what to do, Finno, I - the Girdle’s gone, and Lúthien’s dead, and Tyelko and Curvo won’t listen to me anymore. They’re going to Doriath with or without me - they’re going to get themselves killed. And the Oath - ai, it claws at me for even thinking of trying to prevent them.”

She’s held the Oath back for years already - truly impossible circumstances will lull it to sleep for a time, and she’s been very good at convincing herself and her brothers that Melian and Lúthien constitute impossible circumstances just as much as Morgoth currently does. Before, long before, Fingon had kept it almost unnoticeable at times, her older vow easing the bonds of her later one.

But he’s gone, and there is no starlight in her mind, only the Oath and the waiting darkness and the raised voices of her brothers screaming at each other.

“I wish you were here,” she says desperately. “I wish you would come and help me with this. Somehow. Any way at all. Just by being here, even.”

She lets her hand drop, grips the stump of her wrist until her nails dig in.

“Or maybe,” she adds more quietly, “maybe it’s best. Maybe I would just drag you along with us.”

- - -

Sirion is burning around her. The soldier dead at her feet is wearing Fingon’s colors and sigil.

An escape from the Nirnaeth, some corner of her mind notes with detachment. Perhaps he went with Turgon’s retreating forces to Gondolin, and then here when that city fell. Only to be felled, after all that, by his former king’s disgraced kinslaying wife.

A dark, bitter chuckle seeps out of her. “Do you see?” she rasps. “Do you see what I have become?”

There is no answer, of course. Maedhros doesn’t even try to pretend that he’s there with her. 

He would not deign to give her even a scrap of his attention now. Not that she deserves it.

- - -

They’re camped somewhere in the middle of the wilderness, picking their way back to where Amon Ereb is hopefully still standing. Maedhros looks over at where Maglor is stretched out asleep, his arm over the tiny peredhil twins that are curled up against him. Against all sense or wisdom, he’s been stubbornly attached to them ever since he stumbled on them in the ruins of Sirion, and (displaying even less good judgment) the twins seem to have decided to overlook his sacking of their home in favor of latching onto him as the one safe thing in a world gone mad.

It can only end in tears, but Maedhros has had even less luck than usual persuading Maglor of that.

She tilts her head back, looking at the sky.

“What do I do now, Finno?”

The only starlight that answers is that which she can see above her.

- - -

...and one time when he was there.

The battlefield is chaotic and nightmarish, and Maedhros feels right at home.

Finally, finally, she has a chance to do something unequivocally right, to extinguish Morgoth’s creatures in as great quantities as her strength will allow. Perhaps she may even be permitted an honorable death in battle, one of these days, but until that occurs, she is going to be as much help as she can.

They have an unspoken agreement, her and Gil-galad and Finarfin. She will keep her forces well away from those of her once-adoptive-son and her uncle, and help the war effort however she can, and they in return will let her alone to do so rather than pursuing the issue of the kinslayings.

Someday, she might let them do so. Maglor has talked of it. But first, they must lay hands on the two Silmarils still in play, and raise the not-quite-grown twins (and keep them firmly off the actual battlefield), and also do something about the great number of orcs and other monsters that never seem to stop coming.

There is a gap, for a moment, a breathing space. Some of Finarfin’s forces are fighting nearby, though per usual they have not made contact. Maedhros glances their way as she moves towards the next wave of the enemy, and--

--stops. Catches the briefest impression of something, someone familiar. 

Finarfin’s fighters wear cloaks the color of elanor, and Gil-galad’s wear a blue that’s almost gray. But the warrior at the head of the pack is cloaked in deep, deep blue, and she swears she sees dark braids woven with gold escaping from under his helm.

He twists, and dark eyes meet hers.

“Finno?” Maedhros says, barely aloud, half without knowing it.

She doesn’t even register the orc chieftain coming up behind her.

[noxtms]

IN CHARACTER DATE : early evening, may 2nd, 2024. TRIGGER WARNINGS : mention of blood. CREDIT : to ziggy ( @hoggleswart ) !

There isn't a single thing that he wouldn't do for Molly if she asked, and that includes making the unwise trek into London after the weather warning has already been issued. She should really be here by now, she'd told him, her lips pressed into a worried line, And I'd like for us all to be together in one place. He agreed, there. It was best if the whole family settled in together to support each other through the already difficult day and ride out the unexpected storm, and Arthur had wasted no time after his wife had helped him button back up his coat and wrapped a well-worn, handknitted scarf around his neck with loving hands. He has to apparate in at a designated point but the walk to Ginny's block from there never takes him long. It's usually a more pleasant stroll, one he can travel with his hands joined behind his back and a jolly tune whistled, but the wind whips at his coat collar and the rain falls heavy on his head. The bitterness of the evening bites at his hands and Arthur rubs his palms together before lifting them to his mouth, breathing hot air on them. Steps speed up then, just a hint. Molly would murder him if he came back with a cold, too. 

It’s only as he gets closer to his destination, stomach rumbling with the hope of still making the feast with his daughter that instincts really start to prickle. The storm gets worse with each step and the chill starts to feel almost sinister, brows drawing together in unease. Something is wrong. A voice in his head urges him to look up and horror strikes when he does. The Dark Mark lingers in troubled skies, bright and menacing, and hovering over a building that’s all too familiar.

“GINEVRA…”

He’ll be ashamed to admit later that for a moment, body freezes in hesitation. It’s only a brief pause, barely half a minute, though it seems to last forever. It’s as if time stops with him. All he can do is stare, naively hoping the sight before him might dissipate. He clings to the false hope this is no more than a nightmare; a scene some boggart has conjured before him, bringing to life a nightmare he’s sure he’s seen before. This can’t be real. This can’t be happening.

But it is.

Reality hits hard and in an instant, the man is racing forward, tearing up the stairs of the apartment block. “Ginevra!” It’s more a roar than a shout. A desperate yell that’s begging for a reply that doesn’t come, and the scene only gets worse as he gets closer, reaching her front door. Feet stop moving when the firm hand of an Auror settles on Arthur’s chest. They push him back with a quiet “sir, please, you can’t go in there”. Had he been in the right frame of mind, he might’ve apologised. He might’ve explained the situation better. There isn’t time for that now though and instead, their arm is shoved away like the touch burns, long strides still trying to take him towards Ginny's front door. “That’s my girl in there!” His protests are uncharacteristically loud for a man normally so soft-spoken. He swiftly steps around another approaching Auror, hands all but ripping the crime scene tape that’s attempting to block his entrance away. It isn’t in his nature to be rude or aggressive, but can anyone really hold the fear of a loving parent against someone?

The inside is no better than the outside. There’s no reassurance to be found in overturned furniture, a broken lamp and “Merlin,” he breathes out shakily, erratic movements finally stilling because “is that blood?” Horrified question isn’t directed at anyone in particular. Perhaps because a part of him does not wish to hear the answer. Heart thuds heavily against chest, blood pumping so loud that head throbs, an overwhelming panic threatening to come over him. Arthur finds himself almost thankful for the palm that comes down on his shoulder from behind. It grounds him, snapping him back to action and when he turns, he’s greeted by a familiar face. “Arturo, where is she? Where is my daughter?”

“Mr Weasley…” Arturo’s somber expression momentarily has Arthur wanting to cover his ears, too afraid of what he might hear. It was strange how the body reacted to shocks. He ignores the urge, swallowing hard at the lump forming in throat.

“Please.” He pushes for a faster response and when he gets it, he doesn’t know whether to be relieved  …  or terrified.

“Nobody’s here.”

[brainlessbaguette]

Finished Fionna and Cake and I have some more thoughts, lots of spoilers below

So in regards to that Finn post I made after ep 1&2, apparently there was no more our Finn. In hindsight that makes sense but still a bummer that he didn't even get a cameo. I am absolutley stunned by the lack of Marcie mentions, especially in the finale. I am well aware that they wanted to branch out and away from the main cast for this one but this was very much a Simon story, despite being called Fionna and Cake. Your telling me we don't even get Simon recalling Marcie to talk or just a quick clip of them hanging, it felt wrong.

I did really enjoy the show. Like genuinely it was a great time, I recommend. I will say though it needed more episodes. Even just a "normal" 12, as far as smaller series go. They just wanted to do too much and didn't really get to stop and flesh out different ideas.

Now Adventure Time thrived at "dream logic" where crap didn't make sense, everyone in universe just excepted the most random ideas. It also had a sense of whimsy that it held while showing you some of the most gut punching stories. It was insane and the HBO stuff has felt more grounded I want to say? Like its lost that vibe. I didn't really notice it in "Together again" or "Obsidian" but "Bmo" definitely felt a bit off and "Wizard City" was... anyway after getting to see a full series it's just really brought that forward for me. Like its not bad it just doesn't fully feel like Adventure Time.

I will say for this series you could blame that on the fact we're following human Simon, who's here because he couldnt get behind that mindset and two outsiders. But thats not quite right. Its not so much a "how are the characters reacting to x" as much as it is "how is x being presented to we the viewer"

Its really hard to put to words. Uhh take Scarab I guess? In the original show you would've maybe had someone give Simon and the gang a quick explanation on who he is, a quick cutscene, or even just left it at what we see in the beginning. Not really going too deep. But instead they keep checking in on him and his little monologues, you even go to see his boss or manager dude. It felt like too much context for a character that did exactly as much as he would have regardless or whether or not we had that info. I feel like I know more about Scarab than I do the Lich and its weird.

It also, circling back, didn't work with how short the series was. They HAD to establish Fionna and Cake as actual characters and not just gender swaps, Simon needed to go through his whole arc. They then CHOSE to also establish Gary and Marshal in a B plot, Adventure Time really didn't have B plots so that was weird at first but it actually helped the Finale ep so they get a pass, and then added on Scarab with whatever he had going on, all while changing the setting and throwing in a new side cast every episode. They were working so hard to introduce everyone and get them through their stories that they really didnt have time to let the things settle. Like y'all remember in the Elements series how they took that whole (I think?)2nd episode to have Finn just sit down and process everything that had just happened and is currently happening. Was it the best episode? No. But gosh dang it did wonders for Jake's character, displaying how Finn has matured emotionally, giving the brothers a chance to connect(right before Jake disolves in some goo so that it hurts more), and gave the viewer a little break from non-stop action while also letting us catch back up all in a cute funny little Adventure Time way. Fionna and Cake NEEDED an episode like that. Because everything was so rushed they didnt really get to bond and grow together and grow away from the "owner pet dynamic." Finn and Jake had that line a little blurry in funny one off gags but they were absolutley brothers first, Fionna and Cake was on the other hand not that.

Anywho TL;DR, Show was good but pacing and vibes were off and would've benefited from at least two more episodes just to let things breathe.

I absolutley knew it about Simon's and Betty's relationship. I saw that coming from a mile away. That crap was so unhealthy and I'm glad they've made peace with that fact + Simon is getting therapy. Thank you Finn's mom.

Oh and last little bit, me being upset about my unanswered questions.

Uh how did Jake die? Cause Farmworld Finn's Jake is still alive and well, so its not of old age?

Why the heck did Prismo do a complete 180° so fast??? Your legit telling me that in 20-30 years(Idk how long but it's nothing compared to him) prismo, an immortal wishmaster, has turned into a washed up mess. Why? Where's cosmic owl, don't you guys still hang? Is it cause of our world Jake dying, if so back to question 1?

Not really specific to this show but Is PB still PB or just B? Cause she was living with Marcie in "Obsidian" and in "Together Again" Peppermint Butlers wearing her crown. Whose watching the candy kingdom, I'm just genuinley curious?

Is Farmworld Finn dead??? I genuinely don't think he is because Scarabs whole job seems to be keeping thing running smoothly and killing a reincarnated catalyst comet seems like it would be a big screw up. Also Jay and LD didn't seem upset, so I'm gonna go with no he's fine? But they also DIDN'T GIVE ME CLOSURE!

ALSO why are Jay and LD ditching they're families for Fionna's world? That seems out of character and overall just a weird choice.

DID THEY PUT BABY FINN BACK IN BABY WORLD??? Is there a baby jake without Finn??? I am devastated.

What was the point of sending Simon into Shermie's body other than the cameo? Like I love to see em, but we were pressed for time and they're could've been another way to do that right? It just felt weird.

Why did Prismo send Jay, LD, Baby Finn, and the tank peppermint butler anyways? There was definitely a different way to do that.

Lastly but most importantly

There was no Fionna meets our Finn??? Why it's all I wanted, even just a two second she bumped into him while chasing after Cake and neither of them realized. I would've been so happy and I'm a little salty now.

Very rambly as per usual. If you made it down here thank you for tuning into "me chucking my random thoughts about a very specific topic into the void of the internet because, regardless of whether or not people read, its surprisingly very thereputic to just write them all out there," we are currently workshoping that title.

[smolalienbee]

Birdwatching, or: How Lost Birds Flock Together (chapter 2)

The Witcher (Netflix) // Detroit: Become Human AU (Witcher characters placed in DBH universe) // rated T (Teen And Up) // 11k/???

When Yennefer quit the Oxenfurt Police Department, she swore to herself never to get involved with another android case - that is, until an old mentor comes knocking at her office door. Suddenly, she finds herself with an android in her care and a new job - to identify and neutralize the Sandpiper.

But how does one go about finding a myth? Worst of all, there’s much more at stake than just her paycheck. The deviants’ existence is at risk and then there’s also… the girl.

read the 2nd chapter in full on AO3

The night after the Chameleon, Yennefer doesn’t sleep well.

She tosses and turns; she dreams of a girl and of an old mentor. She dreams of birds - of sandpipers and of swallows and of vultures; and she, herself, is a black kestrel amongst them, circling the swallow, protecting, always protecting.

She dreams of a fire, consuming everything she has ever cared for.

This fire has raged inside of her for as long as she can remember, but it’s been all the more present, all the more insistent after the Cintra case. It was her last straw, Cintra, and to this day she can recall herself, standing in Tissaia’s office. How she had slammed her badge onto Tissaia’s desk, so furious and so, so very tired.

"I gave you all I could give. I’ve helped you for years, Yennefer, what more could you possibly want?"

She thinks about the girl. "Everything."

She has never stopped thinking about the girl.

So she lays, in the dark, staring at the ceiling of her bedroom. Like this, she also remembers the machine that sits in her living room. Geralt.

The entire situation feels like the universe is playing some cruel joke on her. She can’t help but wonder, why me? After all, surely CyberLife - and, by extension, Tissaia - has many contacts in many places; people that’d be far more willing to, how did Tissaia put it exactly? Identify and neutralize the Sandpiper.

There’s more to it, Yennefer is sure of it. She knows Tissaia - she knows that she wouldn’t have made the choice to drag Yennefer into this lightly. What she doesn’t know, though, is who this investigation is truly supposed to benefit. CyberLife? Tissaia?

(Yennefer?)

Around 3 in the morning, she gives up.

She settles herself on the bed, with the laptop in her lap being the only source of light in the room. She pulls up every kind of document she can get her hands on - databases, news sites, CyberLife’s logs, anything that she has access to and even the ones that she shouldn’t have access to. And then, she digs. She digs in search of something - anything - about the specific BN213 that had escaped their grasp just the night before.

There’s nothing. Nothing useful, anyway. All she can find are overly pretty marketing materials along with the model line’s availability and full specifications - but there’s nothing about this specific android. No information on who they belonged to, where they were stationed, when they were bought, from which store… as if they never existed at all. Had she not been aware of previous cases in which the Sandpiper wiped most, if not all, proof of androids’ existences, she would’ve found this strange.

Around 5 in the morning, she gives up again.

She slams her laptop shut with the kind of force that the poor machine doesn’t deserve and then she heaves herself out of bed. She slips out of the bedroom barefoot and having only thrown an old, faded OPD hoodie on top of her black nightgown.

She finds Geralt just as she had left him - on the battered living room couch, staring at the TV. The TV itself is somewhat old-fashioned - a flatscreen, rather than a holographic display. It’s currently on mute, though still playing what looks like a nature documentary about horses. Yennefer stops in the doorway to take in this scene and Geralt is entirely unbothered by her presence - he sits, straight as an arrow, eyes never leaving the screen. His LED pulses yellow.

Careful not to disturb him, Yennefer steps into the room and takes the empty seat next to him. She doesn’t attempt to get his attention at first, and instead just lets herself wonder - about him; about the case. About the previous night and how Geralt’s gaze had lingered on that singer - Jaskier? - and how eager he had seemed to just let him go.

Geralt is a prototype. He’s a state of the art machine designed, as far as Yennefer is aware, for the sole purpose of identifying deviants and tracking down the Sandpiper. A deviant hunter, is what one could call him, and yet it’s hard for her not to ponder the question of can the deviant hunter deviate as well?

read the 2n chapter in full on AO3

[borealwrites]

For today’s @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt!

See Me Burning

Fandom: Witcher

Pairing: A hint of Geralt/Jaskier

Warnings: Temporary Character Death, Minor Violence

Other Tags: Storytelling, Myths and Legends, 2nd Person POV (sort of), Alternate Universe—Modern, Alternate Universe—Canon, Canon Typical Racism

————

You are a storyteller; myths and legends are your bread and butter, and you’ve recently learned a new one you’re dying to share. Trapped in a pub by a summer storm, you find yourself with an audience eager to hear your stories. With a grin you settle in and begin your tale:

“It started with an auspicious birth; a nobleman born during a glorious meteor shower, with eyes bluer than flame and skin that practically glowed in the light of the torches. A strong and healthy baby, who cooed and giggled from his first breath, watching the world with wide, excited eyes.

“As the boy grew, he was deeply loved by his family. An intelligent and curious child, he spent his days devouring every bit of knowledge he could find. Especially if it pertained to the stars. The boy loved the stars and would spend hours staring up at night, and, on occasion, reaching up as though to touch them. Of course, he was unable to reach them and eventually turned his attention to the ground, flowers being as close to the stars as he could get.

“The boy grew into a young man, and he left his home for further schooling. There he learned more of the world and delighted in it. Out of all the heaps of knowledge, he especially fell in love with music. Oh yes, the stars were his first love, but music joined flowers as his second, and he decided his path forward was to be a bard. All great bards had stage names, and so he called himself Jaskier, or perhaps Dandelion, or Ranunculus, or some other flower name. Something pretty, delicate, and stubborn.

“Jaskier set off to explore the world, a lute in hand. Everywhere he went he saw hardship like he had never experienced or seen, and found himself dismayed. He began to sing songs of hope so that he might lift people’s spirits.”

You stop here and glance around at your audience. “This is a myth,” you remind them. “Things are about to get fantastical, as myths often do. But it’s not real, of course.”

They chuckle, and you continue on.

One day, he met a monster in the shape of a man. A witcher. Jaskier had of course heard all the stories about witchers, and especially this witcher. The Butcher of Blaviken, the White Wolf, Geralt of Rivia. Though at the time he was simply the Butcher. Full of love for the world, Jaskier befriended the witcher, seeing past the man, past the monster, and to the soul inside. They had many adventures; we all know those stories. Of The White Wolf and his beloved bard.

Eventually, as it always does, war came. Jaskier and the White Wolf were separated, whether by fate or by their own design nobody knows. Jaskier looked around at the world he loved, and saw pain and suffering even more than before. Saw that humans were hunting down elves and dwarves, fae and dopplers, gnomes, halflings, selkies, anyone different. That couldn’t be allowed. So Jaskier disguised himself and began saving anyone he could, rescuing them every night with only his beloved stars to guide him.

It seemed hopeless in the end. Nowhere was safe for those he rescued. They were endlessly hunted by soldiers and those who wanted to purge the world. Running from it could only last so long, and eventually, they were caught. A well-aimed arrow pierced Jaskier through the eye before he could warn anyone, killing him instantly.

But it wasn’t the end.

The place that would have become a battleground went still as Jaskier’s body began to glow. Bright, twinkling light radiated out of his body, attracting the soldier’s attention as he stood, the arrow vanishing in a flash, his eyes as bright as stars. His enemies were transfixed, staring in awe and fear. They couldn’t look away, as though hypnotized. He took a step back, and they took a step forward.

Jaskier turned his burning gaze towards the people he had been trying to save, nodded once, then turned and fled to the north. The soldiers followed him, ignoring their original quarry. Jaskier’s second in command, a fellow bard known only as Sandpiper, gathered their wits and began heading south, away from where the soldiers had been led. As they looked back to the north, they saw a new star in the sky; brighter than its fellows, it drew the eye. And Sandpiper knew it was Jaskier, distracting their enemies.

Eventually, Sandpiper and their followers arrived at the mythical land of Xin’trea, where everyone could live peacefully, without fear of the humans hunting them. And every night they turned towards the north to watch Jaskier appear in the night sky. We now call him the North Star, but he was originally Jaskier.

Some say that if you keep him at your back and head south, you too will eventually reach Xin’trea, but that the gates are barred against all humans, save for one. The entire land waits for Jaskier to return to them, to return to a place where there is no suffering or pain, where Geralt stands ready to welcome his beloved, the last person who can enter Xin’trea before it closes forever.”

There’s a moment of silence once you finish, and then someone in your audience gives an appreciative whistle. You receive many compliments, and even enough cash to cover your lunch as thanks. The storm has stopped now, and people trickle out or back to their tables. Except for one couple; two men, one with long silver hair and the other with short brown hair. You ignore them and return to counting your money. Without asking, the second man settles into the chair across from you.

“An excellent story,” he says. “But I don’t think you got the ending quite right.”

You glance up from counting the bills and into a pair of eyes bluer than flame.

————

Find this on Ao3

[whimsicalmeerkat]

I posted 3,070 times in 2022

That's 3,017 more posts than 2021!

56 posts created (2%)

3,014 posts reblogged (98%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@nour386

@pterawaters

@alondradina

@cuteasamuntin

@elytrians

I tagged 2,263 of my posts in 2022

Only 26% of my posts had no tags

#queue all the things! - 2,047 posts

#ofmd - 79 posts

#fanfic - 71 posts

#our flag means death - 69 posts

#teen wolf - 59 posts

#ao3 - 54 posts

#sterek - 51 posts

#derek hale - 45 posts

#deadpool - 44 posts

#writing - 41 posts

Longest Tag: 122 characters

#(which ooh pain bc you had to have multiples bc a. there weren't enough older teen witchers b. they were gonna lose a few)

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Fucking evergreen tweet

15 notes - Posted April 7, 2022

#4

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson Characters: Peter Parker, Wade Wilson, Weasel, Gwen Stacy, Michelle Jones Additional Tags: AU - Mermaids, Hand Job, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, fluff and smut and angst, Angst, Happy Ending, fluff and nonsense, Wade is Sane, for an immortal pirate anyway, Peter isn’t Spider-Man but he is a black widow, thank goodness Peter is pretty, Peter is a disaster, Insecure Peter, Weasel’s life is hard, this gets sad but it gets better, Near character death, but not really because it’s Deadpool, dead boyfriend ossuary, no beta we die like warriors Summary:

“Stop sulking,” MJ ordered, tugging the skull out of Peter’s hands.

“He didn’t really love me. None of them ever love me,” Peter said glumly.

“Hey,” he protested when MJ tossed the skull further into Peter’s memorial cave. “You’ll get them mixed up.”

~

Peter keeps accidentally drowning his boyfriends. Luckily, ye un-killable pirate Wade Wilson is made of stronger stuff.

26 notes - Posted April 10, 2022

#3

Opening Lines

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favourite opening line. Tag some people to play the next round!

Thanks to @somekndofnature for the tag! I just went backwards through my AO3 posted works that aren't hockey RPF, so the order isn't particularly meaningful. I love talking about my stuff, so questions are welcome. I'll try not to scream about it too much.

Eric dodged a giggling girl in cat ears and some frankly terrifying shoes.

Alexei stepped as quietly as possible into the bat enclosure.

“So long, Rodney? So long, Rodney?”

Enkidu lay in the bed he’d been directed to earlier in the evening, and tried to understand why people liked them so much.

John had to suppress his groan when he heard his radio crackle.

Geralt was relaxing after dinner when his life went to hell.

“Hello, Bastard,” Lucivar said, walking out into the gardens and finding Daemon on his own.

Geralt stared up at the clouds that obscured the stars, and sighed nearly silently as his traveling companion sighed again, very much not silently.

Geralt submitted to being forcibly shaved with what he was willing to admit was ill-grace.

“Highland Park, neat,” Geralt told the server, then settled in to wait.

Lucivar leaned back in his chair in front of the fire and watched his brother.

{We feel funny.}

Lucivar pushed his way through the door of the Kaleer Hall, his favorite tea shop, and raised his hand to greet a few fellow regulars.

Lucivar regularly came across his brother out in the gardens without considering, even in passing, that he wanted him.

Lucivar jolted awake.

“You were right.”

“Stop sulking,” MJ ordered, tugging the skull out of Peter’s hands.

Sometimes having a secret identity is hard.

Wade was bored.

Oops, edit to add that my favorite of these lines are a toss-up between 7 and 17. I've also learned my 2nd and 3rd lines tend to be more interesting than my first.

Gonna tag some lovely people, if any of you want to play along. Tag me if you do, please! @mrs-steve-harrington @pterawaters @alondradina @mrpinniped @ghoste-catte @bad-at-names-and-faces @only-here-for-the-star-wars @calenlily @shadow-wasser @torrefaction-of-silver @thisdamnwasteland

29 notes - Posted April 3, 2022

#2

@calenlily tagged me in this days ago, but I couldn’t decide which WIP to pull from. The idea is to pull the last sentence from a WIP and tag the same number of people as there are words in the sentence. I’m not tagging that many people, because I’m a rebel like that and it’s a lot of words, but here’s a sentence:

“He was realizing he wanted the other man fiercely, with a need that felt both new as freshly healed skin and as deep as a scar so old you didn’t even notice it was there.”

@cuteasamuntin @alondradina @lunastories @sassinake @bad-at-names-and-faces @dreaminghour @girlwithakiwi @mrs-steve-harrington @raeality

31 notes - Posted February 24, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Stiles' Wiles by whimsicalmeerkat

On AO3

Stiles retracted his finger and took a sip of his coffee. “No, no, this is good. You’re the perfect person to test this on. I would be spending time around you anyway, and the fact that you’re entirely out of my league means there’s no risk of leading you on, especially since you know the plan, and yes, yes, this is perfect!” * Stiles wants to be sure his next relationship is bulletproof. Derek just wants Stiles.

Featuring pining Derek; oblivious Stiles; and a plan where Stiles fails to be wily, but Derek is still charmed

Written for Unconventional Courtship 2022 based on Intent to Seduce by Cara Summers.

Beta by DerRumtreiber (@krabraccoon).

48 notes - Posted June 27, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[90sloverwithinsomnia]

Armageddon The Hell Out Of Here - 1/1

This is one of many archived fanfics featuring 1st and 2nd generation K-pop acts that I've come across recently. It's all in good fun, and maybe a bit cringeworthy! Just to clarify, I don't post fanfics, so I hope to the people that post and read K-pop fanfics makes sense. Credits go out to the original creator (hgiel) Anrui, Kyorei, and Jacqui.

*Note: Nothing in their post will change (unless necessary), other than being posted here, and the (Link) will be provided to the page that i found it on.

This work is suitable for teen and up audiences.

Characters:

Tony, Kang Ta, Moon Hee Jun, Woo Hyuk, Moon Jae Shin

Summary:

H.O.T face the end of the world...

Chapter 1:

Saturday night was movie night at Kang Ta’s. This week, Jae Won was in charge of brining the movie, and he hadn’t yet come.

“This is what you get for letting him pick.” Woo Hyuk told Kang Ta.

“We all had a turn, it’s only fair.” Kang Ta told him patiently. “If we skipped him, it would hurt his feelings.”

“You know that when he does come, he’s going to have like some melodramatic French movie.” Tony pointed out.

“Look, it’s only fair.” Kang Ta said again. “We all didn’t say anything when you brought Bridges of Madison County last week.”

“That’s a good movie!” Tony scoffed.

“I’ll be the first to admit,” Hee Jun joined in, “It wasn’t bad. I mean, I wasn’t with it at first, but toward the end, I was genuinely interested.”

Suddenly a loud boom sounded and the ground shook so hard, the four men fell to the ground, covering their brain stems while debris of Kang Ta’s Precious Moment’s figurines rained down upon them.

Once the ground settled and they got their wits about them, the four looked to each other for an explanation.

“What the fuck was that?” Woo Hyuk asked.

“Check the radio, maybe there’ll be an emergency message.” Tony suggested.

The radio did indeed have some answers.

“Kim Jung Il has just bombed us.” The reporter...reported. “Everything from Pusan to Inchon has been obliterated. Seoul seems to be sinking into the ocean as we speak. Evacuate and move north as soon as possible”

“Oh my God!” Kang Ta shrieked. “We always do those games, like, what would you take with you if you only had a minute to leave your house but I don’t know what do to!”

“It doesn’t matter, let’s just go!” Tony urged, pulling him toward the door.

“No, I got it, hold on!” Hee Jun said, running off. It was only moments later he was back with a paper bag in his arms.

“What did you get?” Kang Ta asked in a panic.

“Everything in the pantry, Astroglide and your Valtrex. Let’s go!” Hee Jun said, proceeding them to the door.

When they came out side they found Jae Won lay just outside Kang Ta’s door. Both his legs are missing.

“I was almost there.” Jae Won said. “I had my hand on the door and then the world exploded. One more second and I would be inside and fine, but that didn’t happen. A roof fell on me and now I have no legs. This is so my luck.”

“Just throwing this out there,” Kang Ta said out of the side of his mouth to the other three, “But if we leave him here, he’ll die and no one will know. We can just keep this between us.”

“No.” Tony said firmly while Woo Hyuk was already nodded his agreement.

Tony went to pick Jae Won up to carry him on his back and Woo Hyuk leaned in to speak privately to Kang Ta. “He’ll die of blood loss soon anyway.”

They rushed out into the street where other citizens were carrying their cherished mementos while they made a mad dash to the north.

“Oh my God, it’s H.O.T!” Someone cried and Kang Ta skidded to a stop, ready to sign an autograph.

The girl made a bee line for them, looked at Jae Won’s bloody stumps passively then took in the sight of Hee Jun, in all his glory.

“You were so fat.” She told him. “Like really super fat, what happened? I mean, you’re still kind of heavy, but shit, I mean, you were FAT. Obese. This is crazy. For real, you were like shockingly fat. Really fucking fat.”

Hee Jun launched himself at her, pounding her skull into the pavement even as her skull was crushed into a pulp.

“That’s enough.” Woo Hyuk said, pulling him from the corpse. “Don’t take it out on strangers, they didn’t put the chop sticks in your mouth.”

“Do you hear that?” Tony asked suddenly.

The five of them fell quiet, trying to place the strange noise they heard.

“It’s coming from over there.” Jae Won said, pointing to their left. “It sounds like a baby.”

Tony lead the way as they pushed their way through the rushing people and into a house that had been left open.

“It IS a baby!” Tony announced. “Poor thing, someone left her.” He dropped Jae Won back into Woo Hyuk who begrudgingly put him on his back. “Isn’t she cute?” Tony cooed, picking the child up.

“It’s...darling.” Kang Ta told him, flinching away in disgust. “Put it back before it gets you sticky.”

“Look who’s talking about being sticky...” Jae Won mumbled and Woo Hyuk awkwardly high-fived him.

“No, I’m keeping her. I’m going to name her...Cyndi.”

“Cyndi?” Hee Jun asked.

“After Syndi Lauper.” Tony elaborated.

“Okay,” Kang Ta said patiently, “We’re-and don’t get me wrong but-we’re all pretty gay, I’m really fucking gay. I’ll put anything phallus shaped in any orifice of my body, but Tony, THAT is gay.”

“Screw you. I’m calling her Cyndi.” Tony pouted. “Now let’s get the hell out of here before we drop off into the ocean.”

They filed out of the house and back into the street but were stopped shortly by a group of soldiers.

“Everyone, follow us, we’re taking everyone to safety!” They announced.

Soon, they were inside what was previously a sports arena.

“Welcome to the dome everyone.” A solider said from the podium. “We’re all a little frazzled right now, so bare with us. Uhh, let’s see,” he skimmed over his clip board, “Okay, so the ground will have to be your beds, bathrooms are anywhere, but try to keep it down wind. Also, since there are so many of you, food rations are scarce. We’re going to give you each a portion of a nutritious dish called Soybean Green.”

“No!” A man screamed from the crow then scrambled onto stage. “Don’t eat it! It’s people! Soybean Green is people!” He announced right before another solider hit him across the back of the head with the butt of his gun, sending him falling, presumably dead, into the crowd again.

“Don’t worry.” Assured the solider into the microphone. “It isn’t people. We make Soybean Green out of hookers. They aren’t people. Anyway, we need to organize ourselves, so we’re going to do it how God would want it, we’re splitting you into groups by skin colour.”

“That’s not fair!” A woman cried. “We’re all Korean, there is no need for that!”

“Don’t listen to her!” A man cried. “Her maternal great-grandmother was Chinese!”

“Get your ass out of here you foreign whore!” Another woman cried.

“Okay everyone, the genocide can wait.” The solider tried to calm them down. “We’ll sort out the foreigners later. As for now, everyone with the lightest skin come to the front of the dome. If there is any refuge for us, they will be the first to be saved, and then on down the colour scheme.”

“Finally!” Hee Jun cheered, thrusting his fists into the air. “I win at life! Who’s laughing now, huh bitch? No pigmentation, huh? Well at least I have a future!”

“Hee Jun!” Kang Ta cried, throwing his burnt orange body into Hee Jun’s pasty arms. “What are we going to do? I’m so much darker than you, they’ll separate us!”

“This is the end of the road baby.” Hee Jun told him, stroking his hair from his face. “I’ll remember you just like this, being totally pwned by me!” He shoved Kang Ta back and made a mad dash for the front of the dome.

“That BASTARD” Kang Ta balled. “After all I’ve done for him!”

“You’ve cheated on him more times than you’ve touched him and you gave him hepatitis.” Woo Hyuk pointed out.

“And STILL he doesn’t appreciate me!” Kang Ta fumed.

“Cyndi is pretty light skinned.” Tony said, looking down at his gayby. “I don’t want to give her up though, and I can’t leave you.” He said, teary eyed, to Woo Hyuk. “I knew one day my eternal beauty and creamy skin would come between us. They’ll let me into the front, but you’ll never pass. I can’t choose between you, the love of my life, and my child.”

“Whom you found fifteen minutes ago.” Woo Hyuk grumbled. “Cyndi was abandoned once, she can do it again. It’s obviously got something to do with her, so let it go and she can work on whatever character flaws keep causing her to be deserted.”

“Give her to me.” Jae Won suggested. “I’m light skinned enough, she can go with me.”

The three of them laughed in unison. Kang Ta was the first to be able to speak. “It doesn’t matter what colour you are Jae Won.” Kang Ta told him, wiping a tear from his eye. “No one want’s a gimp in their Utopia. Hitler wasn’t all wrong.”

“Attention!” Someone roared into the microphone, silencing the mass of refugees. “This has been a test of the National Terrorist Prevention Agency. You have all done a great job, in the case of a real atomic bombing you would all be safe if radiation wasn’t a factor. Return to your homes.”

Before the actual situation settled into their minds, Hee Jun sheepishly re-joined them.

“You know I was just kidding...Right?” Hee Jun asked, poking Kang Ta with his French tipped nail.

“Kidding my ass.” Kang Ta grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. “If I forgive you, that means we’re even.”

“Even? You’ve given me so many venereal diseases my penis has been in the Guinness Book of World Records.”

“You should be thanking me for that.” Kang Ta said indigently. “Yet another example of how you road my coat tails to fame.”

“Guys!” Tony chimed in. “Let’s not fight. Let’s just be happy our country hasn’t sunk into the ocean, I get to keep my little Cyndi, and we’re all okay.”

“What about Jae Won?” Hee Jun asked. “He’s lost a lot of blood.”

Woo Hyuk glanced back at Jae Won. “Don’t worry about it, he’s dead.”