#street and judgementally go 'you have blue hair? and pronouns? of course'

[emiko-matsui]

the trinyvale triplets are horrible because it's like okay. here's a pastel goth woman with a hot accent and an mpreg pet unicorn from the moon. here's a male stripper in a maid's outfit and high heels, gay and literally engaged with a prince. here's a well-meaning himbo with a mullet who's never heard of the concept of a shirt. they would ALL blue hair and pronouns you

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 6,949 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: Alexandria Warnings: Language, violence, gore, discussions of death of a character, sexuality, nudity, typical TWD A/N: STUFF. IS. HAPPENING. This is part of a series! Find the previous parts on the Masterlist! Summary: After the losses suffered during the fight with the Saviors, the communities try to change directions after a couple of plans go awry.

Your name: submit What is this?

The dawn was red as you watched the sun break over the horizon from the guard platform at The Hilltop. With Daryl’s arms around you, you had managed to get some sleep, but you awoke early while it was still dark. You’d crept from the trailer and out into the cool air, forcing in deep lungfuls.

You were staring out over the peaceful morning. The cresting sun set dewdrops on the grass on fire. It was silent and still. It was surreal that the world was still turning despite the terrors of the day before, the losses, the grief.

Your detached musing was cut short by the sound of soft footsteps and you turned to see Daryl climbing the ladder up to the platform. He stepped off and gave you a long look. Of course he knew just where to find you. He thought you still looked dazed, the way you had when he’d found you alone, kneeling at Eric’s grave. You turned back to look again toward the rising sun and Daryl moved beside you, leaning on the wooden wall with his forearms, his blue eyes flitting over your face, looking at the warmth the sun was giving to your skin.

“Aaron is going to take Gracie,” you said suddenly. There was a rasp in your voice, some artifact of exhaustion, grief, tears.

Daryl nodded and turned his attention to a knot in the wood of the wall in front of him. He picked at it absently. “Thas good,” he rumbled.

You turned to look at him again and he saw the same desperation in your eyes. “Why did it have to be Eric?” Your eyes filled with glistening tears. “He was pure good. Like Aaron. He wasn’t a soldier. I should have made him stay in Alexandria. I should have—”

“He wanted to fight,” Daryl interrupted. “It was his choice. Just like it’s yours or mine. He wanted to fight for Aaron. And for you, and for Alexandria.”

The tears broke from your eyes and streamed down your cheeks and you hastily wiped them away, ignoring the sting as the salty water wet some of the cuts on your face, remnants from the car crash the day before.

“We headin’ back today?” Daryl asked.

You nodded. “Yeah. I think—I think I’ll drive Aaron and Gracie. He shouldn’t drive.”

“Should you?” Daryl asked gently.

You straightened up, chewing your bottom lip thoughtfully for a moment. “I’ll be fine.”

Daryl trusted your judgement. “Okay.” He moved a touch closer to you and wrapped his arm around you, his fingers resting lightly on the small of your back. Both of you kept your eyes fixed on the sunrise, needing the reassurance of the rising sun just as much as you needed each other. “Aaron’ll—he’ll be alright. With time.”

You looked back over at Daryl and nodded, though you didn’t look any less sad. “I know.” You clasped his face in both hands and he watched as your eyes closed. You leaned in and pressed your lips to his and Daryl kissed you back softly, smoothing his fingers into your hair, brushing it away from your face. When you pulled back, you managed to give him a small smile. He drew that out of you even in the worst times. “You’ll be careful? On your bike?”

He nudged his nose up in a nod. “I’ll stay right with ya. After yesterday, I ain’t splitting off from ya again. Especially now that we’ve hit ‘em hard. Negan and his assholes will be like goddamn cornered wasps.”

You sighed and leaned into him. Daryl draped his arm across your back and rested his hand on your hip. You were looking back out toward the pinkness of the sky, glowing with the still low sun. “I want him gone,” you said, and this time your tone was hard and sharp. “I want him dead for what he’s taken from all of us.”

Daryl chewed his bottom lip and nodded. “I know. So do I.” The archer sighed. “S’almost done. We’re in the home stretch.”

“Unless they get out of The Sanctuary,” you said, turning to looked at his handsome face, his blue eyes. “Unless the plan doesn’t work.”

Daryl shook his head. He wanted to ease your fears, but he had the same worries. “Even then. We’ll get him.”

_ _ _ _ _ _

You had to take a long route to get back to Alexandria, making sure no one was on your tail and avoiding the roads you and Rosita had wired up with explosives. Luckily, the trip was uneventful and you arrived home safely with no major issues. Once the gate was closed behind the car, you drove slowly to Aaron and Eric’s house, Daryl just behind you on his bike. You parked and shut off the engine, glancing in the rearview mirror at Aaron in the backseat. He was staring down at the little pink bundle in his arms—Gracie. You climbed out and pulled his door open. “Come on, Aaron. We’re home.”

He looked up in surprise, no concept of how much time had actually passed. You helped him out with Gracie still in his arms and gave him a perceptive look. “Go on inside. I’ll be right there,” you said.

Aaron simply gulped and nodded, heading through the garage, past Daryl, to the door that led into the house. Daryl glanced back at you after tossing the tarp over his bike. “How’s he doin’?” he asked.

You shrugged. “He didn’t say a word the whole drive,” you said, your brow furrowed in deep concern. “Listen, I think I’m gonna stay here with him and Gracie tonight. He might need some help.”

Daryl nudged his nose up in a nod, deeply appreciating how you could be both so badass and yet soft when the moment called for it. “Good idea. I’ll be down at the house checkin’ in with everybody if ya need me, alright?”

“Okay,” you said with a nod. You stared at him for a long moment, your forehead still creased with that little worry line you always got.

“C’mere,” Daryl said, reaching his arm around to pull you in toward him. “It’ll be alright. Aaron is a tough son of a bitch. And now he’s got that little girl to look after.”

You fell against him and breathed in his familiar smell. “I know. I just miss him. So, I can’t imagine how Aaron is feeling. It doesn’t even feel real yet.” Daryl planted a kiss in your hair and you glanced up at him and gave him a small smile before your face turned serious again. “I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.”

“Me neither. But it ain’t happenin’.” Daryl gently lifted your chin and kissed you, slow and sweet. “I’ll come by in the mornin’ alright? See how you’re doin’.”

You nodded. “Night,” you said, letting your fingers slip from between his. He took a few steps away and then glanced back at you.

“S’gonna be weird not havin’ ya next to me sleepin’ tonight,” he commented. You nodded. “I’ll miss ya,” he drawled.

You smiled at him again. “Same. See you in the morning.”

You watched him fade down the street until you couldn’t distinguish him in the growing twilight. You stepped into the house and when you pushed inside, Aaron was standing just over the threshold, holding Gracie, and looking completely lost. “Aaron?” you said gently, touching him on the sleeve.

“Huh?” He turned and looked at you, dazed.

“Come on. Let’s get you in and sitting down with her, okay?” You led him by the elbow into the living room, averting your eyes from Eric’s boots sitting just inside the door and his sweatshirt tossed over the back of the couch.

Aaron sank down onto the couch, looking completely exhausted, but staring down at Gracie like she was the only thing on the earth. “Okay. Here we go.” You draped a blanket around Aaron’s shoulders. “I’m gonna go get her bag out of the car. Then I need to see about some more baby things for her. After that,” you sighed, “you need to eat something.”

Aaron nodded, which was more than you were even expecting. You rushed out to the car sitting at the curb and pulled the bag from the backseat. It had a few changes of clothes and diapers in it, along with some formula, but she would need more. She needed a crib, and more clothes and formula, and toys… You set the bag down next to Aaron. “I’m gonna go to the clinic and see what they have for her. Will you be okay here by yourself?”

He gulped and looked up at you. “Yeah. I’m okay. We’re okay…” he trailed off quietly.

You gave him one last parting glance before nodding and heading out to the clinic. You were able to get some more diapers and formula, bottles and even a few toys. You were still missing a crib for her and definitely would need more clothes, but it would be a good start for Aaron. You stopped by the pantry on the way back to pick up something to make for dinner, hoping you could convince Aaron to eat something.

As soon as you got back to Aaron’s, you set out some water to boil on the stove and later threw in some pasta. You got a bottle of formula ready for Gracie and brought it over to him, where he was still sitting frozen on the couch. “Here,” you said, handing it to him. “I’m sure she’s hungry.”

“Thanks,” Aaron said, taking the bottle and almost smiling. You leaned your chin on your hand, elbow propped up on the back of the couch as you watched him feeding Gracie. “Eric and I always talked about having kids but obviously in this world—” he broke off, looking suddenly desperate again, and you reached out and rested your hand gently on his arm, unable to stop tears from welling up in your own eyes.

Aaron gave you a grateful look. “Thank you for being here,” he said. His voice was a raspy whisper. “I didn’t know if I could come back here alone.”

You nodded. “Of course. And you’re not alone.”

_ _ _ _ _ _

Amazingly you had gotten Aaron to eat a small amount before he said he was going to sleep with Gracie in the spare bedroom. Going into his and Eric’s master bedroom would be too hard. You helped him set up an area with clean blankets for her on the floor and you gave him a tight hug goodnight. “I’ll be down on the couch if you need anything, okay?” He nodded and thanked you again and you headed downstairs and flopped down on the couch, pulling the blanket over you and tucking your knife in its sheath under one of the throw pillows. At first your mind wouldn’t quiet, and all you could think about was a never-ending string of what ifs. What if the Saviors showed up at the gate? What if Negan got out of The Sanctuary? What if they brought down the walls? What if you had missed some outposts? But surprisingly, exhaustion from the battles of the last few days, physical and emotional, got the best of you and eventually you sank into a deep sleep.

“You know what I want to hear from you?” Negan’s deep voice drifted over you and your whole body seemed to go numb, except that you could feel his breath on your neck. “I want to hear you beg me.” You could tell he was smiling.

You turned and met his eyes. “I’m not really the begging type. You know that.”

He chuckled to himself and then you felt his hands on your hips from behind, pulling you back against him. “Come on now, Y/N. Don’t be like that. You’re my wife, after all. Don’t you want to please your husband?”

You gulped as his fingers dug into your hips tighter.

His voice next came from right beside you ear. “Or did I make a mistake marrying you? If you’re unhappy with our little arrangement you only have to say so… But you know I wouldn’t be able to give you or your brother any special treatment. That wouldn’t be fair to—”

“No,” you said urgently, your chest heaving. “No. I’m not unhappy with our arrangement.”

You felt his lips and then his teeth on your earlobe. “That’s my girl. So… beg me. I want you to tell me exactly what you want me to do to you…”

“Y/N!”

You shot upright on the couch, absolutely drenched in a cold sweat and when you got your bearings you looked up and saw Aaron standing over you. Gracie was in his arms, crying at full volume. You wiped a shaky hand over your brow and threw the blanket off your lap. “Oh, God. I’m so sorry—I was—it was just a nightmare,” you said, saying it to yourself as much as you were to Aaron.

He was bouncing Gracie in his arms and looking at you with almost frantic worry. “You were yelling,” he said, fumbling in the nearby baby bag for a pacifier.

You squeezed your eyes shut but immediately opened them when a flashback of your dream immediately came forward. You could see Negan as if he was really right there in front of you. You could still feel his fingers digging into your hips and his breath on your neck. You blinked the sensations away and knelt down beside the baby bag, unzipping a side pocket where you had seen the pacifiers. You held one out to Aaron and Gracie immediately latched onto it and quieted. You leaned your back against the bottom of the couch and rubbed your hands over your face. “I’m sorry,” you said again. “This is the last thing you need. Me in your house freaking out over nothing in the middle of the night.”

“Stop,” Aaron said, still looking at you with concern. “There’s nothing to apologize for. Y/N, you have PTSD…”

You looked up at him in surprise. “I don’t think it’s—”

“It is,” he said gently, not stopping bouncing Gracie who seemed perfectly happy and content in his arms now.

You pulled your bottom lip in between your teeth and chewed it anxiously for a moment. You’d never thought about the lasting effects of your past in that context, but you had to admit that he was probably right. The flashbacks were vivid and there were certain sounds, certain smells that elicited completely involuntary terror in you. You pulled yourself up off the floor and sank back down on the edge of the couch letting out a long, slow breath. “Huh… Well, to be fair, doesn’t everyone have PTSD nowadays?”

Aaron gave you a sad look. ��Are you okay?” You nodded.

“Yeah. I’m sorry. I didn’t think about this happening because—I haven’t had one in so long,” you said.

Aaron’s worry eased some and his furrowed brow relaxed. “Since Daryl?” he asked.

You caught his eyes a little sheepishly and nodded. “Yeah. Since Daryl pretty much.”

The next moment you could see the look in his eyes shrinking away, and you knew he was thinking about Eric. “I’m gonna go back to bed, okay?” he said gently. “You’re sure you’re alright?”

“I’m good.” You stood and peered down at Gracie, gently brushing a finger over her silky soft cheek. “Goodnight, you two,” you cooed.

_ _ _ _ _ _

The next morning there was a quiet knock on the front door and you went to answer it, Gracie nestled in your arms. It was Daryl. His heart skipped a beat at your little smile and the sight of you with that sweet bundle in your arms.

“Hey. Mornin’,” he said, stepping into the front entryway. “Aaron?” he asked, one of his eyebrows lifting in quizzically.

“He’s asleep, actually. And he deserves it,” you said, turning and leading the way quietly into the kitchen. “I, uhh… had a—nightmare last night. Or a… flashback. Woke him and Gracie up at some ungodly hour.”

Daryl’s hand went reflexively to your waist. “Are ya alright?”

You nodded. “Fine. It was…nothing.” Daryl looked a little unconvinced. You looked down at Gracie’s wide blue eyes. “I’m okay.”

He nodded. “Listen, I ain’t tryin’ to pile more on ya but… Rick ain’t back yet. We were expectin’ him by now.”

You gulped and looked up at Daryl, trying to read exactly how worried you should be based on his expression. “You think something went wrong with the scavengers?”

Daryl shrugged. “I dunno. All I know is I can’t stop worryin’ about those Saviors in The Sanctuary managing to get out, clear of the damn herd, and catchin’ us with our pants down.”

“Yeah… Same. But what can we do?”

It was then that Daryl told you his plan to crash a truck into the building and break the place open, letting the walkers get inside. He’d already talked it over with Rosita and Michonne and they both said they needed to see the place for themselves anyway.

“I just figure the longer we wait, the more time Negan has to figure somethin’ else out.”

You stared at him for a long moment. “Alright. Fine. I’m in. When are we going?”

He anxiously chewed his bottom lip. “Nah. Ya should stay here. If Rosita, Michonne, and I go, ya should stay and keep an eye on things.”

“You want me to stay here while you go back there? Close to Negan? Are you crazy?” you asked him.

“Y/N, listen to me. If shit goes sideways, ya should be here. Rick ain’t here. Who else is there? Besides, Aaron needs ya.”

Your jaw clenched and Daryl watched the muscle twitch. “I don’t do sidelines well,” you said.

For some reason this made him smile, despite the grim topic. “Ya, I know. It ain’t the sidelines. It just ain’t the frontline.”

You sighed and went to set Gracie down on a blanket spread on the floor. You considered the handsome archer again for a long moment before nodding. “Fine. But promise me you won’t get yourself killed. Don’t do anything too reckless without me.”

“I promise.” He moved close to you now and smoothed his hands over your sides before resting them on your hips. You ran your hands up his strong arms and brushed some of his hair away from his face.

“When are you going?”

He gulped. “In like an hour,” he said. He watched you carefully for your reaction but you simply sighed.

“Alright.” You arched up onto your tiptoes and kissed him, your arms looping around his neck. Daryl kissed you back hungrily and even lifted you off your feet for a brief moment, causing you to smile into his lips. When he pulled back you smoothed your hand down his chest. “I’ll see you later,” you said pointedly.

He nudged his nose up in a nod. “Yeah. Ya will.”

He kept his promise. And the plan sounded like it had worked. The truck had cracked open the front of the building and the herd had started to pour in. But now there was still more excruciating waiting, and worse yet, Rick still wasn’t back.

Aaron watched you endlessly pacing across his living room with a sleeping Gracie in your arms the next morning.

“Y/N.” You looked over at him. “I’ll take her. You go home. Go be with Daryl.”

Your brows contracted, leaving that little worry line in the middle of your forehead. “Are you sure? You’ll be okay?”

Aaron nodded. “Yeah. And it’s probably time I let myself really feel it. I’ll be okay.”

You gulped and wished you could banish the empty feeling between your lungs at his words, at the devastation on his face, but you couldn’t. You nodded and handed Gracie over to Aaron. “You know where I’ll be if you need me,” you said gently, smoothing your hand over her soft hair as she settled happily into Aaron’s arms.

“Yeah. I know.” You gave his shoulder a light squeeze and managed a small smile for him.

“Okay. I’ll check in with you tomorrow, okay?”

You left Aaron’s and headed straight for Daryl’s house, knocking lightly on the front door. Rosita pulled it open and greeted you, stepping back to let you inside. “Daryl’s downstairs,” she said. The mood was notably subdued in the house, obviously because everyone was worried about Rick… You were too.

“Daryl?” You called down the stairs.

“M’down here. C’mon down.”

You actually had never been down in his space before. Since you had an empty house, the two of you always stayed there. You moved into the dim space with interest, glancing around and seeing Daryl’s old poncho slung over a chair and a few collected odds and ends scattered around.

He was laying on his bed, drinking in the sight of you. Even in the low light he could see the bruises and flecked wounds on your face from when the Saviors had caused your vehicle to crash. Your eyes took in the space, eventually landing on something familiar he had on his nightstand. “Hey,” you said with a smile. “That’s what happened to this.” You grabbed the familiar scarf and ran the soft material through your fingers. “What’s this doing here?” you asked him curiously.

“Ya left it. That night after ya pushed me into the damn pond,” he drawled. You sank down onto the edge of the bed beside him.

“And you just decided not to give it back?” You teased him with a smile.

He shrugged vaguely. “Smells like ya,” he admitted. You gave him a fond look and replaced it where you had found it.

“You can keep it,” you said. “God, that feels like forever ago. To think I was just walking around, never having kissed you. What the hell was I doing?” you said.

“What the hell are ya doin’ now? Ya gonna lay down here properly with me or not?” he asked.

You laughed and immediately sunk down on top of him. His arms wrapped around you. “Hi,” you said softly.

“Hey.” He gave you a more serious look. “How’s Aaron doin’?”

“He’s—he’s okay. I think. He told me to come home.” Daryl nodded and chewed on his bottom lip. A look of worry seized him again. You smoothed your hand over his chest, your brow drawing low over your eyes. “You’re worrying about Rick,” you said. He nodded.

“Those scavengers… I dunno…” he trailed off. “Got a bad feelin’.”

“Rick is a tough son of a bitch,” you said. “I’m sure he’s fine.”

Daryl nudged his nose up in a nod. “Yeah. I ‘spose.” He gently moved his hands underneath your shirt so he could feel the softness of your skin. It sent goosebumps rising up your arms. “Ya gonna stay with me tonight?” he asked hopefully.

You nodded and ran your fingers through his hair. Daryl’s eyes closed at your touch. “If you’ll have me,” you said softly. The archer could hear a smile in your voice and was glad for it. Things had been so dark since Eric’s death.

He opened his eyes and blinked up at you. “Oh, I’ll have ya, alright,” he drawled, a mischievous look on his face. The next thing you knew he’d swung you over onto the bed and you were underneath him, laughing in surprise and then sighing as he kissed your neck.

You looped your arms around his neck and gave in happily, glad to disappear with him into a blissful bubble, even just for a short time.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Several days later

Still no Rick. And the group was gathered together trying to decide what to do. Everyone was in agreement that something had to be done, but the details were up for debate.

“Something is definitely wrong,” Michonne said. “I think it’s time we head there for ourselves.”

You straightened up from your place leaning against the kitchen island. “We can’t just all go. It’d leave Alexandria even weaker. And what about The Saviors?” You glanced at Daryl, shaking your head. “I think it’s time we do a little check-in, don’t you?”

Michonne sighed, but nodded. “Fine. Then I’ll go after Rick. Alone.”

“Michonne, that’s not what I’m saying,” you said sympathetically.

“I know. But you’re also right. There’s too much to deal with and too few of us. Someone should check-in with the other communities and we definitely need to figure out how much longer it’s going to be before Negan and his asshole starve to death in there. So, I’ll go alone. It’ll be quiet, too. It’ll be good.”

“Are you sure?” Rosita asked her, clearly worried. “I can come with you,” she said.

“I’m sure. I’ll leave now. Stay here and keep this place safe. I’ll bring him back,” Michonne said.

“Be careful,” you said, giving her a nod.

“Who’s going to pay The Sanctuary a little visit?” Rosita asked.

“I want to see it,” you said urgently. “I mean… I haven’t seen it since the fight. I just—I need to see it.” It still didn’t feel real.

Daryl gave you an understanding nod. “Alright. You and I will go. We’ll take my bike. See if there are any messages from Dwight. Rosita, get extra watches on the walls and make a radio call to Hilltop and The Kingdom.”

She nodded. “You got it.”

So, you set off to The Sanctuary, both nervous and feeling tense with anticipation. You were hoping that seeing the place all hemmed in by walkers would give you some sense of satisfaction, lift some of the angry weight on your shoulders, but you knew that was probably wishful thinking. That weight wouldn’t be gone, the flashbacks wouldn’t be gone, the anger and anxiety wouldn’t be gone until he was gone.

But as soon as the building had barely come into view, you knew something was very wrong. Your arms tightened around Daryl’s waist and he hurriedly pulled his bike into a hidden spot alongside a building. You stumbled getting off as fast as you could and immediately had your hand on your rifle, rushing to get to a spot where you could look through the scope. Daryl was hurrying to get his bow off his bike, frantically watching what you were doing.

He heard you murmuring to yourself as he arrived next to you at the vantage point. “No, no, no… No! No, that can’t be—Daryl, tell me that—”

He lifted his binoculars and peered at the building. He didn’t need to look long. His jaw dropped partially open and then he lowered the binoculars from his eyes. He glanced at you. Your face was contorted a little with a slew of emotions; disbelief, anger, confusion, surprise, fear… all of them blended into one shitty milkshake you felt like had just been poured down your throat. Daryl’s blue eyes were narrowed in a glare and you watched his jaw clench.

You raised the scope of your rifle to your eye again and stared at the stacks of walkers that had formed a protective barrier around the double doors. “This was fucking Eugene,” you growled, “This was Eugene.” You dropped the scope from you eye and Daryl was worried for a moment that you might actually collapse. You leaned heavily against the brick wall and sank down to the ground. “He’s out. He’s fucking out…”

Daryl gulped and took another look at the building. Was this his fault? Had crashing the truck in somehow made this possible? “Fuck,” he growled. He let out a few angry breaths and considered punching his fist into the wall, and maybe he would have if you weren’t there, reeling.

“Fuck!” you repeated, shutting your eyes and leaning your head back against the wall. “What the fuck do we do now?”

Daryl glanced down at you and shook his head. “We go home. And then we come up with a new plan.” He hesitated and anxiously chewed his bottom lip. “‘M sorry,” he said.

You looked up at him in surprise. “This isn’t your fault,” you said softly. “This is—this is fucking war. It’s just how it is…”

_ _ _ _ _ _

“He’s out there and we don’t fucking know where!” you yelled. “Listen to me, Daryl. If we don’t want him to hit us here then we have to make sure he’s somewhere else. And right now we have no clue where the fuck he is!”

“Yeah, no shit. How the hell we gonna do that, huh? Go out there? Thas suicide! We don’t know how many of them got out. Obviously, they’re still pretty well fuckin’ armed!” he growled back.

You sighed heavily, getting near to it now. “There are three people Negan is guaranteed to show up for. Rick, you, and me. Out of those three, there’s only one person he wants alive.”

Daryl’s eyes narrowed as he looked at you. “No. Hell no! Ya ain’t goin’ out there as bait!” he roared at you.

“This is the right call,” you said urgently. “You know it is! If we tell him that I want to talk about a truce we can lead him away from the communities and—”

“And give him the perfect opportunity to get his goddamn hands back on ya!”

“That’s not gonna happen. We just need to get him somewhere we can control and then—”

“No. I ain’t lettin’ ya do this! We’ll figure something else out!”

“How? We’ve already lost so many people. We’re low on ammo and guns and supplies…” But your jaw was set and your chin was inclined. “I don’t need your permission. If it was anyone else besides me who was going to bait him out, you know you’d say this was the right call. Hell, if it were you, you’d be out the door already!”

Daryl paced angrily in front of the bed, rubbing a hand over the stubble on his face. “Nah. It’s insane. Ya ain’t doin’ it.”

You heaved a sigh. “You can’t stop me, Daryl. I want this over! I just need this to be over!” Your eyes were a bit wide and desperate. “I’ll use their radio and call him up. I’ll tell him I want to bargain a truce. I know how to manipulate him. I’ve done it before, remember?”

He let out a scoff. “And then what? Ya think Negan is just gonna waltz in to a meeting unarmed? Ya think he ain’t gonna roll up with a crew?”

“We’ll have more time to plan than he will. We set a small crew of sharp-shooters ahead of time. We get everything set up and then I give him a tight deadline for the meeting. He won’t have time to put some crazy, elaborate scheme in motion. If I do it right, he won’t be able to resist. Hell, I might even be able to convince him to come alone! Either because he really thinks we’re gonna cave now that he’s out, or because he thinks he’s going to—to be able to have me again. It wouldn’t be completely unprecedented for me to do something completely self-sacrificial…” you trailed off, avoiding Daryl’s eyes. “He won’t kill me. You heard it from his own mouth. But you? He’ll gladly put a bullet in your head the first instant he sees you.”

“If he gets his hands on ya, it’ll be worse than ya bein’ dead,” Daryl growled. Daryl felt sick just thinking about you being in the same goddamn state as Negan, let alone this bullshit. “I can’t let ya do this. If it goes wrong—”

“There’s no other way. If you can come up with a plan that doesn’t end up with a whole lot more of our people dead and all the communities destroyed, please let me know. Because that’s what’s coming if we wait. They’ve got Eugene. I don’t even want to think about what they’re gonna make him do next.”

Daryl rubbed his hands over his face and gave you a long look. His expression was somewhat tortured. “If you’re goin’ out there to do that, then I’m gonna be right there. And don’t even try and argue. I’m gonna be the one to line his head up in the crosshairs and pull the goddamn trigger.”

You stared at him for a long moment, seemingly frozen, before you nodded. “Fine. If that’s what it’s going to take for you to let me do this… But I mean it. You have to stay hidden. If he or his men see you—”

“I know. But there’s no way I’m lettin’ ya go out there without me. If somethin’ goes wrong and I’m not there…” he trailed off.

You nodded. “Okay. Okay…” You hesitated only a moment. “Let’s figure it out.”

A short time later, you and Daryl were leaning over a map on your kitchen island. “Right here,” you said, pointing a spot that was almost halfway between The Hilltop and The Sanctuary. You knew the landscape was patchy woods and clearings. “It’s sort of neutral ground. Probably open enough to make him comfortable that we’re not hiding a huge force somewhere too close.”

Daryl nodded. “Alright…” He glanced up at your expression, which was steely. “You’re sure you want to do this?”

You met his blue eyes and nodded. “I am.”

He sighed heavily and shook his head. “So, that’s it? You, me, and Rosita. And you’re just gonna walk up to him unarmed,” he said.

“It doesn’t matter that I’m unarmed as long as I can get him somewhere for you or Rosita to take the shot. I need him to feel comfortable enough to actually stay for a minute. I can’t roll up with a goddamn rifle.”

“He ain’t comin’ unarmed,” Daryl said. “And I doubt he’ll come alone.”

“It’ll be fine,” you said.

Daryl’s stomach was already churning. “I hate this,” he muttered angrily, pushing up on his hands and moving away from the map.

You leaned back against the kitchen island. “I know.”

“Then why the hell are we doin’ it?!”

“Daryl, we’ve been over this… what’s the alternative?”

“I don’t know! I don’t know, alright! But there’s gotta be somethin’ else—"

“There isn’t,” you said, surprisingly softly. “So, just… just come upstairs and let me have my way with you before I start this insane thing tomorrow.”

Daryl stared at you with that classic Daryl Dixon glare. “If ya think sayin’ that is somehow gonna make me forget this is happenin’ you’re wrong.”

“I know,” you said, straightening up and crossing the space to him, reaching out and gripping his sides. “I’m not asking you to forget. I’m asking you to come upstairs so we can pretend that it’s not for a little while…”

Daryl’s face softened a little and he studied your face for a long moment before sighing. “Fine. Ya know I can’t say no to that.”

“Good,” you breathed, arching up onto your toes and kissing him hard, looping your arms around his neck.

_ _ _ _ _ _

“Well, suck my dick and slap my ass…”

You rolled your eyes as Negan’s voice drifted back to you through the two-way radio. “Yeah, I’ll pass on both of those actually…”

His laughter came through next. “Gotta say, Y/N. You’re about the last person I expected to hear from. Old Rick the Prick? Sure. But not you. I have to say, I am intrigued.”

“This has gone on long enough. We’ve both lost enough people. I want to talk about some sort of arrangement so we can end this for good,” you said.

There was a long silence on the other end. “So, that’s why you’re callin’ me up. I bet Rick the Prick doesn’t even know you’re doin’ this, does he? Because he is hellbent on my extinction. Or haven’t you noticed?”

“You want to talk about Rick or do you want to talk about ending this?”

Another long silence before he answered. “Some people would say that the fact you’re even offering a compromise means I’m on the right track, means I’m winning…”

“Some people might say that. Others might say it’s because I’m just sick of all the death. And I know deep down you don’t want to see any more of your people dead. So, I guess the important thing is what do you say?”

You didn’t know that at that moment Negan was biting his lip, smiling, listening to the strong tone of your voice. “Y/N, you know I’ve gotta tell ya, you takin’ charge like this is really turnin’ me on. I can’t tell you how much I would just love to bend you over the nearest table and fuck your brains out…” Beside you Daryl shifted angrily and clenched his fists. A brief crackle of static came before Negan’s voice sounded from the radio again. “I would really love to see you again, honey. I know you ran away from me twice, but I just can’t help myself! You are like the drug I can’t quit and maybe some delusional part of me thinks I could tame that wild streak of yours…”

You avoided Daryl’s eyes. He looked like he was about to lose his shit and call the whole thing off, but in truth, this was going better than you expected. Some part of you was realizing that, holy fuck, you might truly be Negan’s weak spot. You felt like he was about to propose a meeting.

And you were right.

“I tell you what, you come talk to me face to face and I’ll entertain the idea of a truce,” he said. “But just you. No army, no honey-bun Daryl, no goddamn bullshit.”

You paused for a moment as if you were thinking his offer over. “You really think I’m just going to walk into some trap you have set for me? And I suppose you want me to come unarmed. Should I put myself in handcuffs for you too?” You tried to sound scornful.

“Well, only if you want to cut straight to playtime, doll,” he said with a chuckle. “As for the weapons, yes I do expect you to come unarmed. We’re just gonna talk, right?”

“So you’re gonna be unarmed too?”

Another laugh through the radio. “Hell no! I will be packing. You, along with those losers you’ve attached yourself to for reasons I still do not understand, have already tried to kill me a few times! Tried and failed, but tried nonetheless. But you know I could never, ever really hurt you… Even though you’ve been such a bad, bad wife…” Daryl flinched when Negan said ‘wife.’ “But you’ve got nothing to worry about, doll.”

Just then you felt a twist in your stomach, some surge of nerves now that this was all becoming so real. You shook it off. “And you’re coming alone?” you said. “How could I possibly trust you, Negan?”

“You name the time and place and I’ll be there. No bullshit,” he said. His deep voice was calm, confident. This was working way better than you anticipated.

You paused and looked at Daryl again, heaving in a few breaths before pressing the button down on the side of the radio to speak. “Fine. I’ll come alone, if you come alone. But listen to me, Negan, if there is so much as a blade of grass that looks out of place, I’m gone.”

Another laugh. “I’d expect nothing less, clever girl. Just name when and where.”

You gulped. “Tomorrow. One o’clock. Partway between Hilltop and the Sanctuary. There’s a field just past mile marker 31.”

“I will see you then. And I’ll try to be on my best behavior.” You could hear the smirk in his voice.

“I mean it, Negan. I just want this over with,” you said. That wasn’t a lie. You did. It just wouldn't be on his terms.

“So do I, Y/N. I know you think I’m a heartless bastard but… I do care about people.”

You rolled your eyes again. “Just be there,” you growled into the radio.

“Oh, I will be. See you then, darlin’.”

[melon-wing]

Dread

I think this one needs a little explanation first. The story was written for @gridoc ‘s amazing Pirate AU wherein Grian is part of the Navy and Doc is a pirate captain. And make sure to also check out @authorforhire ‘s ongoing story, which sounds amazing so far!

I just wanted to write a little snippet set in this universe after the idea kept me awake last night. I hope I did it justice :)

______________________

Grian sat at the bar, finger tracing the rim of his half empty glass, lost in thought. He just couldn’t get his last meeting with Captain Doc out of his head. They had been flirting… hadn’t they? Had he maybe imagined how soft the pirate’s smile had looked? This whole situation was so fucked up. Doc was a pirate and he part of the Navy after all. There was no way they could even dare to have feelings for one another. But… Grian’s heart seemed to disagree with that notion lately. It jumped in joy every time they encountered the ruthless pirate captain out on the sea.

Someone slid up next to Grian at the bar, but he didn’t pay it much attention. It wasn’t like it could be anyone he knew. Their last encounter with Doc’s crew had left their ship damaged and until it was repaired again they were stranded in this town. Most of his mates were already getting their well earned rest, but sleep eluded Grian. Thoughts of a certain captain kept him wide awake.

“Hey, mate. You look like you are searching for the meaning of life at the bottom of that glass.”

Grian startled, finger stopping their circling motion as he looked up at his neighbour. It was a young man with huge innocent eyes and brown hair, wearing a simple light blue shirt. He was holding his own glass of alcohol, so he was probably older than he appeared to be with his bright smile and boyish looks.

“Just a lot to think about.”

“I bet you have. Being in the navy must be one hell of a stressful job.”

Grian tensed at the mention of his occupation, but relaxed when he remembered that he was still wearing his uniform. It wouldn’t take much thinking to know he worked for the navy. And this wasn’t a huge town. News about a navy crew being stranded here had most likely already made the rounds.

“It can be sometimes. You see a lot of things out there at sea…” Grian looked off into the distance, but then shrugged.

“I bet it’s exciting. When I was a child I always dreamt of joining the navy.”, the guy replied, eyes sparkling and an infectious smile on his face.

Grian just had to smile as well and finally turned a little towards the other man, open to a little conversation to stop his mind from wandering.

“Well it’s never too late to join then. I’m Grian by the way. Lieutenant of the Architech.” He held out his hands and the stranger looked at it for a second before shaking it.

“I’m Keralis. I work here as a fisherman. Not as glorious as the navy, but I still get to go out to the sea a lot. So what has you looking into the glass like that, Mr. Grian?”

“Grian’s enough. Not old enough to be a Mister yet”, Grian replied with a chuckle and took a sip from his glass. “And it’s nothing much. Just…” He hesitated. Why did he feel like telling this stranger about some of his problems when he didn’t even talk to his friends about it? But that open smile on Keralis’ face just made him want to talk. And who could be better than a stranger he would never see again? He wouldn’t have to live with any nagging questions or judgement that way. Of course he couldn’t go into too much detail. The guy knew he was navy after all. But maybe it’d help to talk about it.

“Just feelings and stuff. There is this… person. And I’m not sure how I feel about them. We keep on meeting over and over again and we are flirting… At least I think we are. I’m never sure about that to be quite honest. It’s… weird.”

“Why don’t you just ask them?”, Keralis simply asked and Grian had to hold back his laughter at that. The question was asked so innocently. It was sure easy when you didn’t have such a heavy burden to carry.

“’m scared of the answer I think. I’m not sure whether I want them to be seriously interested in me or not. I’m not even sure if I really have deeper feelings for him or if it’s just… just nothing.”

“Him?” Keralis looked at him curiously and Grian blushed at the slip up with the pronouns, but he couldn’t even start worrying when Keralis already calmed his nerves again. “Oh no judging here, don’t worry. I’m on your team as well, so to say.”

Grian smiled at that, already feeling a bond forming with this young stranger he had just met. Sure he wouldn’t be able to talk about every aspect of his problem, but it felt good to talk about some of it.

“So, Mr…. Grian. I think if your problem brings you alone to a bar, sulking over a drink, he probably means something to you. You should talk to him about it.”

Grian chuckled and raised his glass, finishing his beverage in one go. It was weird. Hearing it from some stranger made it sound so much more true than his own mind trying to tell him.

“Maybe… Maybe I should talk to him when we meet next time.” Grian smiled a little, trying to imagine how the proud Captain Doc would react. They’d probably be in the middle of another one of their sword fights, their blades clashing together. And then what? Grian would just tell Doc he liked him there and then? Yeah sure… There was a huge possibility of that ending with Grian being impaled by Doc’s blade.

They kept talking for a while about life out at sea. He told a few stories about his life in the navy and how he got to the position he was in. It was kind of cute the way Keralis looked at him with huge adoring eyes. Maybe he should put in a good word for him back at the navy. Someone who could steer a boat to go fishing for a living could just as well work on one of their ships.

As he finished his final drink, Grian stood up slowly, not really in a hurry to leave his new drinking buddy. He had enjoyed his evening off and the conversation had kept his mind away from other things

“It’s been nice to talk to you, Keralis. And you know, thanks for the help earlier. It’s a pity I have to leave so soon. But I have to check on our ship early tomorrow morning.

Keralis smiled, downing his drink as well and putting the empty glass onto the bar before he hopped off his chair.

“Let my accompany you. Maybe on the way to the inn you could tell me some cool story of life in the navy.”

Grian smiled at the eagerness of his drinking companion and nodded. He tossed a few coins to the bartender before they left the bar together. It was already dark outside. The sky was cloudy and not even the moon was illuminating the streets. But Grian didn’t care much for the darkness. He had spent most of his live on the sea and there had been a lot dark nights out there.

“Oh!” Grian looked to Keralis in confusion at his little exclamation. “I know a shortcut we can take. That way we don’t have to walk past all those bars. There are a lot of drunken people hanging around on the main streets. Wouldn’t want to get into a fight.”

Grian just nodded, following Keralis into a maze of small back alleys. He was just telling a story about the one time their ship was caught in the middle of a massive storm when they turned another corner and walked straight into a dead end. He stopped in the middle of his sentence, looking at the wall in confusion and then back at Keralis.

“I think we made a wrong turn somewhere along the way.”

Keralis laughed a little and scratched his head, looking at Grian apologetically. “Yeah. Damn, I’m sorry. I was so lost in your story. We should have taken a left turn back there. Let’s just…”

The moment they turned around, Keralis’ words died on the tip of his tongue. At the entrance of the alley were two men, swords drawn in front of them, grim looks on their faces. Grian cursed himself internally and took out his own weapon, pushing Keralis behind himself with his free hand.

“Stay back. I’ll handle this…”, he whispered, before raising his voice. “Good evening, gentleman. If you plan to rob us, I’d advice you against it. We just spent all of our money in the bar. We don’t have anything of value.”

One of the guys laughed. A cold laugh that chilled Grian to his bone,

“Oh… But it’s not money we came to steal. It is something far more valuable. Someone more valuable.”

Grian threw a short glance over his shoulder at Keralis and then back to their attackers. The guy who had just spoken shook his head.

“No. Not that boy. It’s you we are after, Grian, rising star of the navy, youngest one to be promoted to first mate. They say in a few years you’ll probably have your own fleet under you.”

Grian tightened the grip on his sword. He was pretty sure those guys were pirates. Nobody else would dare to attack the navy so openly. He had no clue how they knew who he was, but there were a lot of pirates who wanted to get revenge on him or his fellow crew mates out there.

One thing was for sure. Those were not Doc’s crew. They had met so many times now, he was almost on first name basis with all of them. That also meant this was not just another attempt to make him join their pirate crew. The reason they were after him would be far more sinister.

“Well. Nice to hear that you heard of me. I hope you also heard that I haven’t been promoted without a reason.”

Grian didn’t wait for them to attack. He jumped forward, sword clashing with the first pirate, making him stumble back in surprise from the fast attack. A second later he was ducking under the blade of the other guy. He needed to be fast. He needed to get rid of one of them. Their swords clashed again and again. Grian had the upper hand at the moment, but just barely.

Then one of them stumbled and he used the opportunity to disarm him, sword flying away into the darkness. He didn’t give the guy any opportunity to pick up his weapon again, hitting him with the blunt edge of his sword and watching him crumble to the floor.

He raised his blade just in time to parry a hit from the pirate still standing. But looking at the other’s face they both knew that the battle had already been decided. They still kept going. It took Grian another minute to have his opponents blade flying through the air again. His blade sat at the pirates neck, threateningly close to a killing blow.

“So who send you guys?”

“That would be me.” Grian’s head whipped around in shock. He hadn’t heard anyone else coming. And that guy had managed to sneak past him into the dead-end.

Grian’s eyes widened as he saw the newcomer holding Keralis in an iron grip in front of him, a sword pressed under his chin.

“Captain Bdubs. Nice to meet you. Now… Drop your weapon, boy. Or I will kill your little friend.”

Grian hesitated. He knew the moment he dropped his weapon he was done for. Sure, he had a hidden blade on him, but that wouldn’t do him any good in a sword fight

Keralis whimpered quietly and Grian could see tears starting to run down his face.

“Please, Mr. Grian… I don’t want to die…” His voice was nothing more than a whisper, but it still sounded absolutely terrified.

Grian couldn’t do it. He couldn’t sacrifice this guy for his own life. He joined the navy to do good, to protect the people. Slowly he lowered his sword, dropping it to the floor. The clang of the metal echoed through the alley, cementing Grian’s defeat. Slowly he raised his hands and Bdubs grinned menacingly.

His underling quickly picked up Grian’s sword. Bdubs pushed Keralis over to the other pirate, walking up to Grian confidently. With a forceful push Grian’s back hit the wall painfully. Bdubs hands were pressing against his shoulders, keeping him were he was as he leaned forwards. Grian could feel warm breath ghosting over his ear.

“Be happy, navy boy. With your help I will be able to bring an end to Captain Doc’s reign.”

A jolt went through Grian’s body and his eyes widened in shock. He began to struggle, but heard a pained whimper from Keralis to his right and immediately stopped his resistance.

“I won’t help pirate scum like you.”

Bdubs chuckled darkly, one hand caressing Grian’s cheek, the gentleness making Grian feel even more uncomfortable.

“Oh you don’t need to do anything. Just having you in my possession will be his downfall. He’ll come to get his little navy pet.”

“I’m not… I’m not his pet. We are enemies.”

Another laugh passed Bdubs lips as he shook his head, patting Grian’s cheek.

“Grian, Grian, Grian… You and I both know that isn’t true. I have my eyes and ears everywhere. Rumour has it that Captain Doc has a soft spot for you… And I know my Ex-Crewmember better than most. He will come running when word gets out that you are my prisoner. Now,” Bdubs retreated a few steps, his sword pointed in Grian’s direction, “be a good boy and come with us. And no funny business or your friend dies.”

Grian clenched his fists, body trembling. He wanted to fight so badly. He’d never imagined he could be caught in a situation like that. To be used as leverage in a fight between two pirate captains. And while Bdubs had seemed pretty sure that Doc would come to try and rescue him, Grian wasn’t. One thing was for sure. Once Keralis contacted the navy, they at least would come to save him.

Slowly Grian walked through a few more alleys. It didn’t take long for them to come to a bay were a massive ship was sitting. The distance they had walked hadn’t been long enough for Grian to find any opening to escape. He stopped just in front of the ramp going up.

“Up you go, navy boy. No point in turning back now. You won’t make it far.”

“Release your hostage.”

“I promise, once we are up there, we’ll let him go.”

Grian could here the amusement in Bdubs voice. He knew he couldn’t trust a pirate to keep his word. But if he refused Keralis would die. If he complied he’d at least have a chance to survive.

And so he walked up. Each step felt like he was hammering a nail into his own coffin. He could feel the point of the Captain’s blade at his back. As he stepped aboard the ship there was cheering and a lot of sneers directed at him. They looked like they had been expecting him.

“Put some handcuffs on our prisoner! We are setting sail!”

“Wait! Let him go first!”

Grian turned around to glare at Bdubs, who smiled at him and nodded to the guy still holding Keralis. And to Grian’s great relieve he really let go of the hostage, handing Grian’s sword off to his Captain.

“Keralis. Run!”

But he didn’t. Keralis kept standing there and for a second Grian thought he was frozen in fear. That was until he saw the innocent grin from earlier return to his face.

“Oh but why should I? They wouldn’t hurt me.” As he spoke, he walked up to Grian and Bdubs, stopping right next to the captain and leaning against him. “I’m Bubbles’ first mate after all. You know, my lover I told you about earlier? That’s him.”

Grian’s face fell. He had been tricked. This hadn’t been some random encounter. Keralis had started their conversation with the intention of capturing him.

Something in Grian flicked. His arm was grabbed to put him into handcuffs, but he was quicker, He pulled the dagger from his boot and slashed his attacker’s arm who let him go, howling in pain. He sent another pirate close to him stumbling back with a punch to the face, desperately sprinting towards the railing. He needed to get into the water. It was dark. He’d dive a short distance and they’d lose sight of him. He still had a chance. He could…

Bang!

Searing hot pain shot through Grian’s shoulder and the blade fell from his hand as he almost tripped over his feet. The second of delay was enough for multiple hands to grab him. He struggled as hard as he could, scratching and kicking at everyone in range. A hand pressed against the shot wound and he doubled over in pain.

With a click cold Iron shackles snapped close around his wrists. Someone kicked him in the back and he fell forward onto his knees, looking up right into Bdubs grinning face. Keralis was standing right next to him, smiling innocently, the pistol in his hand still smoking a little from the shot.

“Don’t worry, Grian. You won’t be imprisoned for too long. Once Doc walks into our trap you’ll become useless…” Bdubs knelt down, grabbing Grian’s hair and pulling his head backwards. “I want to see the look in his eyes when I put a bullet through your brain right in front of him.”

Pushing Grian away from him and onto the floor, Bdubs stood up again, looking around at his crew.

“Get the prisoner under deck! We are setting sail! Victory…”, He paused a second, smirking at Grian. “...is ours!”

[catulla-claudia]

Callixta Claudia Catulla

“Callixtus Claudius Valerius, look me in the eye and tell me you’re not going to be as shit of a brother as you are a politician.”

General information

Known as

Callixta Claudia Catulla: Legal name

Catulla: Commonly known as

Cat: Nickname

Callis Maxim: Pseudonym

Lady Catulla: Title

Occupation

Painter

Noblewoman

Favorites

Favorite meal: Saltimbocca

Favorite drink: White wine

Favorite flower: Carnation

Personality traits

Birthday: November 16

Age: 29

Zodiac sign: Scorpio

MBTI: ISFP

Pronouns: She/her

Main(s): Lucio

Patron Arcana: Knight of Swords

Relatives

Callixtus Claudius Valerius: The Consul, her elder brother, known most commonly as Valerius. She dislikes his general connivery, whilst he believes her too soft and still resents her for their mother’s death, but they still share a sense of comradery over their father’s political designs for both of them.

Cato Claudius Maximus: Father, the patriarch of the Claudius family and previous Consul of Vesuvia before his death during the Red Plague, usually simply known as Consul Maximus. Her cognomen was derived from his praenomen of Cato.

Poppaea Valeria Maximii: Mother of Catulla and Valerius, her marriage with her husband was rare amongst nobles as it was for love, and she died giving birth to Catulla, one of the main sources of contention between Cat and her brother and father.

Gens Claudia: Patrician family to which Catulla belonged, descended from her father. Several generations before her birth, her ancestors had changed the laws of Vesuvia that made the title of Consul a hereditary title passed down through the Claudii clan rather than an elected role after generations previous of bribery and political plotting that kept the Claudii clan in power as Consuls.

Gens Valeria: Patrician family to which Catulla’s mother belonged and for whom her elder brother was named after.

Physical description

Gender: Female

Height: 5′2′’

Eye color: Hazel

Hair color: Black with blue-silver ombre

Appearance

Cat is a petite woman who looks to be in her early to mid twenties, with an elegant yet unrestrained air, described as being "all the wild beauty of a garden". Her hair is black, with the ends dyed into a blue-silver ombre, and she has hazel eyes, a shade or two darker than her brother’s. She’s said to resemble her mother greatly, being fine-boned, with large eyes and a straight nose. She has a beauty mark on her left cheek. She loves high-collared lace and silk shirts, as well as floral patterns and puffed and gathered sleeves.

Personality

Unlike her brother, Cat doesn't like the idea of manipulating others or being a chess piece. As a result, she'd also expressed a desire for a simple life, content to live off her family inheritance as a philanthropist and patron of the fine arts as well as expand her own crafts as an artist. While her family exults in power and influence, her motivations lean more towards living life on her own terms. Some part of her resents her family for their insistence in playing at the game of politics, though it’s often overpowered by her internalization of her father’s neglect of her during her childhood. She’s only ever really soft and open when it comes to art-- at the rest of times, her personality is seen as sarcastic or snippy, with a hatred for flattery and strictly no-nonsense, often fidgeting or becoming anxious when there’s nothing for her to do. However, Catulla can be just as manipulative and ruthless, able to read people like they’re open books even without the help of magic or a tarot deck, as she was born and raised as a Claudii after all-- she simply dislikes politics. That doesn't mean she's bad at it.

History

Family background

Catulla was born as Callixta Claudia Catulla, of the Claudius family. Catulla was named after her father, whose name was Cato Claudius Maximus, known vernacularly as Consul Maximus. She had one elder brother, Callixtus Claudius Valerius, known vernacularly as Valerius, three years her senior.

The Claudii were one of the oldest and most noble of Vesuvia’s families, with members frequently holding the highest offices of the state, and had over the course of several generations, seized control of the office of Consul to the point it became a hereditary title passed down through the family rather than an elected one as it was initially intended.

Consul Maximus and his wife, Poppaea Valeria, were arranged to be married, but unlike most nobles, they were deeply in love, and Poppaea was often said to be the power behind Consul Maximus’s hand, and was also quite well-respected by the people of Vesuvia.

Childhood

Catulla was named for her father, whilst her elder brother was named for her mother’s family. Her mother, Poppaea Valeria, died giving birth to her-- as a result, her father and brother had resented her for this, and her father treated her coldly during her childhood, heaping all his aspirations onto her elder brother, with Catulla being forgotten in the shadows.

As a result, Catulla was raised mostly by tutors and servants, keeping mostly to herself during her childhood, the shamed daughter of the Consul hidden away in the Claudius estate. It was during this time she gained an appreciation for the arts-- cooped up in such a large manor with a lush garden and vineyard, she found herself often staying out to sketch the sceneries and making different studies of the servants at work as well.

Adolescence

By the time she was around thirteen or fourteen, she was deemed talented and useful enough by her father to send her away abroad to study the arts-- once again, out of sight and out of mind. She spent the next few years travelling to places like Firent, Zadith, and Prakra, studying the painting, architecture, and sculpture of each of the different cultures, returning back to Vesuvia when they were around nineteen with a wealth of knowledge.

Adulthood

Catulla was introduced at court by her father at the wedding of Count Lucio to Nadia Satrinava, alongside her elder brother-- she was around twenty at that time. Later, she received note from town gossip that the Count was looking to commission an artist for his official portraits.

Determined to win the commission, Catulla had worked in secrecy and submitted her sample work to the palace under the pseudonym of Callis Maxim, unwilling to throw around her family reputation. It was to her pleasure and surprise that she was notified, a month later, of her winning the commission.

Catulla had informed her father of her new occupation and then without waiting for his protest or permission, promptly moved into guest apartments in the Vesuvian Palace, where she would stay for the next year as she worked on a painting of the Count as seen in the Arcana game, standing proudly over the skull of a dead beast, with mountains in the background

Court Painter

He was apparently so pleased with her work that she’d been promoted to the Court Painter, whereupon she had been tasked with painting a myriad of things, mostly for his vanity projects-- paintings of him, paintings of his menagerie of pets.

Over time, Catulla had befriended him, or, as much as anyone could befriend the count, being referred to affectionately as “Cat” by him, and something of a one-sided infatuation had sprung up, with Cat having held a soft spot for him despite his selfish tendencies due to his love and care for his pets, though she made sure he had remained unaware of this, and he was in the meanwhile having an affair with her brother.

When the Red Plague swept the city, she’d been horrified at his inaction, distancing herself from him and calculatedly cutting off any form of their previous friendliness towards each other-- her last commission was the painting of the feast in the dining hall, and the grim and ominous composition was a manifestation of her disappointment and bitter anger towards him. She’d given it to him as a parting gift, alongside a resignation letter.

The Red Plague

Catulla intended to leave court for fear of Lucio’s wrath after reading her resignation letter; however, she had been called back by the Countess, who’d asked her to help her and Doctor Devorak improve the quality of life in Vesuvia through public works projects, something she’d studied as an architectural student in Prakra at one point.

When the Count contracted the plague as well, she’d taken over this public works project as Julian was tasked to find a cure; during her meetings with the courtiers, she’d learned from her brother, acting Interim Consul, that their father had also contracted the plague.

Masquerade

At one point, Catulla had suffered a breakdown from the stress and vanished mysteriously, to the chagrin of her brother, it was this that prevented her from being present at the Masquerade where Lucio was murdered.

It was later revealed that just before the masquerade, she’d decided to run away from Vesuvia, no longer able to withstand the pressures of running the public works project, or the fear for her father and the Count despite her better judgement. She had moved around over the next three years from here to there, working as a painter for tourists and passerby, her pride preventing her from returning to Vesuvia and asking her brother for help.

Aftermath

She was later found to be living in Nevivon by Lucio, newly freed from his Devils’ bargain and banished by Nadia from Vesuvia no less, selling portrait miniatures or scenic paintings to tourists and passerby on the street. She couldn’t recall him, not even able to put a name to his face-- this had prompted him to bring her back to the palace despite Nadia’s threats of punishment to see her own artworks hanging up over the halls, hoping to prompt her memory to return.

It was there she’d run into her brother, shocked to see her alive and well for all those years, and shocked even more to see Lucio of all people with her, who he’d called the guards on, running him out of the palace once again.

Despite her suspicions, he made an effort to reconcile and show that he wasn’t the asshole she’d believed him to be in their earlier years. Over time, as she gradually returned to palace life, the gaps in her memories gradually filled in, and she was welcomed back in helping Nadia and Julian with their aqueduct projects.

However, there was always a missing piece, it felt like, in their mind, and they hadn’t realized what it was till Nadia mentioned offhandedly she didn’t really wish to have Lucio’s portraits hanging around anymore, but she also felt guilty if she were to throw away Catulla’s works, prompting the artist to ask after Lucio...

Trivia

Callixta, Catulla’s unused personal name, means chalice, and is shared with her brother. Her cognomen that’s most commonly used, Catulla, means wise or good judgement. As with Roman naming conventions, her family name is in the feminine form.

Calixta can speak at least six different languages as part of her formal education.

She suffers from selective memory loss and can’t remember any of the time she spent at Court, though she recalls her education, early years, and family quite well.

Her story plays out in a continuation of Nadia’s route rather than in Lucio’s own route.

She’s not a magician, nor are any of her known family members, but doesn’t have quite as much a dislike for magic as Valerius does, and her instinct and intuition is unusually sharp for someone without magic.

She has a smooth voice that “sounds like a Disney princess”.

[crying-gay-tears]

Brighter Than the Sun (3/?)

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

ao3

A thunderstorm and existential thoughts keep the boys awake. 

Chapter 3: Questioning

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gon tossed in bed as a clap of thunder echoed in the air outside his dorm. It hadn’t woken him up--he hadn’t actually fallen asleep yet--but it was enough to shake the window in its frame. A few seconds later and his room was illuminated by a flash as lightning ripped across the sky. He counted in his head ‘1, 2, 3, 4, 5’... another thunderclap, another flash. Huh, so the storm was about a mile away then. He knew this was coming, the signs had been showing the last few days. Birds were flying low yesterday and there was a ring around the moon that night. He could smell it in the air as well. He was grateful it waited until Friday night to finally hit. It meant he could have a nice rainy Saturday indoors with no classes to interrupt. Another crack of thunder and lightning, and the rain finally started. He settled on his back and listened to the heavy pitter patter against the roof.

The room was dark aside from the dim blue light of the street lamp outside the window. It illuminated the rain flowing down the glass, casting fluid shadows that danced across the floor. He laid awake watching them, mind wandering.Usually when it stormed, it brought him a sense of calm and peace. On nights like these he slept like a rock; but for some reason, tonight he couldn’t seem to sleep at all. Maybe it was because this was his first stormy night spent away from Whale Island. He had definitely been feeling the differences that living in a city made in his daily life. Maybe he was a little homesick, and maybe the storm was just making that feeling grow.

He glanced up at the desk across the room. The bright red digits of his alarm clock glared back at him, letting him know it was well past 1am. Just as he moved to bury his face in his pillow, he heard a thud followed by some rustling on the other side of his bedroom door. Eager for a distraction from his own restlessness, he kicked his blanket aside and snuck out to the common room. He wasn’t sure what he expected to find, but Killua on the floor scrambling to scoop chips back into a bowl was not it.

~~~~~~~~

After about two hours of tossing and turning in bed, Killua found himself in the common room, rolled up in a blanket on the couch with a bowl of cheese puffs and a baking show playing on the tv.

He was having trouble sleeping, which wasn’t really new, per se, but the thoughts running through his mind and keeping him from sleep certainly were. Earlier that day was the first meeting for the GSA, and Gon convinced him to go. Not that it took too much effort, Killua had been curious about it weeks ago when Gon first mentioned it.

The meeting was a little over an hour long, and Killua was on edge for most of that hour. There were a bunch of people there, all of them seemed nice enough, but it was still a bit overwhelming. He wasn’t even sure if he should be there in the first place.

They all introduced themselves with their name, pronouns, and sexuality if they were comfortable sharing. Killua waited with baited breath until it was his turn, then he quickly declared “Killua, he/him” and turned to Gon to pass the spotlight, who was carefree and confident when he spoke. ”I’m Gon! I didn’t really know what pronouns were before now, but mine are he/him! And I don’t know what to say about my sexualty, I’m here to hopefully figure it out!”

Killua was amazed the whole time at how easily Gon fit into the group, like they’d all been friends for years. He was starting to learn that that’s just how Gon was. He was comfortable with everyone he met and he navigated life with a confidence that stemmed from his own optimism.

Killua spent most of the time quietly observing. The group leaders talked about what it felt like for them when they realized they were queer. A few told their coming out stories, some of acceptance and some of isolation. They talked about the spectrum of sexuality and what each letter in the acronym was. Killua, who had entered the meeting assuming he was just going to be an ally, left that afternoon with the burning letter Q in his mind.

Questioning. Something about that word felt so comfortable to him. It felt like a word he could sit with for a while. Under the umbrella of questioning, he had the space to think about all the new perspectives he received during the meeting.

He assumed he was just an ally, but when he heard about all the things you could be besides straight… Ally didn’t feel like it really fit. And that was because straight definitely didn't feel like fit him anymore. To be honest, looking back, he wasn’t sure if it ever really fit him in the first place. But straight was what he always was, wasn’t it? It was never really something that got talked about directly, but it was always assumed. He’d only ever been asked about girlfriends, or girl crushes growing up. He’d been called a lady’s man by his parents’ friends, and he was always told he’d make a nice young lady very happy one day. It started to feel like being straight was kind of...expected of him? He never realized there was any other way to be.

But as overwhelmed as he was with the suffocating straightness, he was equally overwhelmed by the world of queerness that he had no experience with.

Straight didn’t feel right--and that was scary in and of itself--but he also wasn’t ready to declare himself as gay or bi or pan or any of the other letters. He just… wasn’t sure yet. So he was Questioning.

And boy was he questioning.

Everything.

What did this mean? Would he have to come out to his family if he decided he was gay? Or bi? Should he tell them now that he was questioning? Or wait until he figured it out 100%? When would that happen?

He couldn’t imagine his family being too cool about it, not that they were cool about much to begin with. When did he start caring about what they think anyways? He’d gotten piercings, dyed and cut his hair, snuck out, and done pretty much anything to piss them off and free himself just a little bit. If being gay pissed them off, he shouldn’t care! But would he? Wait, when did he decide he was gay? He wasn’t! Was he?

His phone buzzing on the couch next to him snapped him out of his thoughts, and he jerked in surprise, sending his snack flying. He hissed as the bowl clattered onto the floor, spilling cheese puffs everywhere.

He was on his knees scooping them back into the bowl frantically with his hands when he heard a door creak open. Before he could react, Gon was standing over him, a strange smile on his face.

“Want some help?”

“Oh, no thanks I’ve got it.” He threw the last puff back into the bowl and dumped them all into the trash. “Sorry if the bowl dropping woke you up.”

“It’s okay, it didn’t wake me up, I couldn’t sleep anyways.”

“Did the storm scare you or something?”

“No, ” his brow was furrowed and his lips formed a small pout. “I usually sleep like well on stormy nights. I don’t know why I’m so awake right now. I was thinking maybe I’m homesick.”

“Ah” Killua flopped onto the couch, pouring more chips into the bowl.

“Is that why you’re awake? The storm scared you?”

He scoffed. “No, I just have a lot on my mind, I guess.”

“Can I join you?”

“Uh, yeah, sure”

He made room on the couch and Gon sat down next to him. When he started tugging at the blanket, Killua just stared in confusion. He kept tugging until, finally understanding, Killua pulled the blanket off of himself and spread it over the both of them. Gon scooted in closer and let out a contented sigh. Their arms and thighs were touching, and Killua was doing his best to remain calm. Were they supposed to be sitting this close? Gon was always kinda touchy feely, and Killua had never really had friends like this before, was this just what friends did? They were watching tv, that was normal. Was he just overthinking?

“So, what’s on your mind, Killua?”

He almost jumped out of his skin. “I..uh, what?”

“You said you had a lot on your mind, and if it was keeping you from sleep I thought you might wanna talk about it.”

“Oh, no... I’m okay, just thinking about school stuff, yknow, homework and whatever.”

Gon just chuckled in response.

“What’s so funny?” he huffed.

“Nothing, it’s just that you’re a terrible liar.”

Killua’s mouth fell open in surprise.

“I am not! I-”

“It’s okay, we don’t have to talk about whatever is bothering you.” He reached for another cheesepuff from the bowl in Killua’s lap. “It’s also okay if you’re scared of storms.” He smiled as he pushed the chip into his mouth.

“I’m not scared, Gon. Just couldn’t sleep. Seriously.”

“Okay, Killu, whatever you say. You know, storms used to scare me when I was younger. Mito-san always calmed me down with herbal tea and sometimes she’d sing to me. Did your parents ever do anything to help soothe you on stormy nights?”

“Well, no, not really. Not that storms ever scared me,” he side-eyed Gon, “but they’re not really the comforting type anyway so it wouldn’t matter anyway.”

“Oh?” Gon’s eyes were wide, not with judgement, but with genuine curiosity. “What are your parents like then? Tell me about them.”

Killua sighed. ”They weren’t really around much. Though I don’t think it’s because their jobs are super cool.“ Gon laughed and he pressed on.

“My dad is a criminal defense lawyer, just like his dad before him and his dad before him. My mom’s a criminal psychologist, so they make a great team. They both went to fancy colleges and come from rich families. All they really care about is maintaining social standing and images, and the family name, and of course money. They throw a lot of parties and dinners for clients and their colleagues, so I spent a ton of my life, including most holidays, stuffed into a stiff penguin suit with a fake smile speaking only when spoken to and never about what was actually on my mind.”

Gon frowned, his eyes were intense and urged him to continue.

“They’re only ever involved with my life when they’re trying to control it. I had to fight with them for months to let me go to a college so far from home. They wanted me to go to my father’s alma mater and get a law degree and eventually run the firm with my older brother,” he rolled his eyes. “But they’ve never once asked me what I want to do, or how I want to live.”

“What do you want to do?”

Killua blinked in surprise. “I, uh… well, I’m not really sure yet,” he dropped his head, staring at the bowl in his lap, “I really don’t know. But I want the freedom to figure it out for myself. Without their pressure or judgement.”

“That’s more than fair. You’re your own person, you should be able to make your own decisions!” Gon’s brow was furrowed, his mouth set in a tight line, clearly upset with what he’d just heard. Killua couldn’t help but smile; it was nice to have someone on his side for once.

“How did you get them to let you come here?”

“I told them if they didn’t let me pick where I went, I wouldn’t go at all.” A devious smile spread on his face at the memory of his mother crying and father standing stone faced with his arm crossed as he held up his acceptance letter.

Gon giggled. “What a power move! Were you being serious? Or bluffing?”

“Well, I just kinda went for it during an argument with them and then stuck to my guns when they pushed it further. I hadn’t really thought about whether or not they would actually agree to my terms. If they’d said no I guess I would’ve taken a year off or something to piss them off, and see if that changed their mind. Luckily, they went with it, and they’ve been pretty quiet since I left. I imagine when semester grades start coming out they’ll be calling. They’ll probably also be on my ass when they find out I haven’t declared a law major yet. Or any major for that matter.”

“You should take all the time you need! It’s okay to not have everything figured out just yet.”

Killua looked at Gon for a moment. His amber eyes were burning into him, full of care and concern. Killua felt so seen and it was...really nice, actually. His heartbeat speeding up was kind of annoying, though.

“Yeah, thanks. Hopefully I figure something out soon though, I think it’ll be easier to tell them I’m not pursuing law if I actually have an alternative to present them with.”

“That makes sense. I still think you should be able to take all the time you need to decide. It’s only fair.”

Killua swallowed nervously around the lump in his throat. Those words held so much weight. He certainly had a lot to think about and decide for himself, and not just what his major would be. Time sounded like exactly what he needed. “Thanks Gon.”

“Of course Killua! I’m your friend, and I support you, even if your parents don’t.” He smiled at Killua and then looked away, his face suddenly falling. “You know, it’s funny, you came to college to make your own life away from your parents, and I came to college to get closer to my dad and to shape my life to be like his. Makes me wonder if I'm doing the right thing. It hurt that he wasn't around and I guess that's why I want to follow in his footsteps. I just...I want it to be so great that I understand why it was worth leaving me.”

Killua had no idea what to say, but before he could figure it out, Gon was speaking again, his expression back to normal.

“You mentioned your brother, what’s he like? Is he supportive? Is he happy following in your father’s footsteps?”

He let out a bitter laugh. “Illumi does whatever he’s told, and he doesn’t complain. They like to bring him up a lot when I’m going against their wishes. He’s their perfect son, and life would be easier for all of us if I were more like him. He doesn’t support me or whatever, but to be fair, I don’t talk to him much, so he doesn’t really get the chance to anyway.”

“Is he your only sibling?”

“No, there’s actually five of us. Illumi, Milluki, Me, Kalluto, and Alluka.”

“Wow, that’s so many! I’m an only child, I always wanted siblings growing up.”

“Heh, that’s funny, growing up I always wanted to be an only child.” He laughed, Gon did too, though he looked a bit concerned.

“Alluka is really the only one I can talk to and spend time with.She still listens to mom and dad, she’s younger than me and still under their thumb, but she’s smart and down to earth. She sees through their bullshit and doesn’t buy into the life they push on us. Kalluto is up mom’s ass, and Illumi is up dad’s, and Milluki only cares about their money and his stupid tech start up. So it’s nice to not be alone against them, she always looks out for me, and I do the same for her.”

“I’m glad you have each other! I hate the thought of you all alone against your whole family. Even though I’m sure you could handle it, it’s nice to have someone on your side.”

Killua’s heart flipped in his chest. Ugh, why does that keep happening?

“Yeah, I’m glad we have each other too. I worry about her now that I’m so far away though. I know she can handle herself, but my parents are the worst, and I was always the buffer.”

Gon looked...angry? But he didn’t say anything immediately. He seemed to be mulling things over. “I don’t mean any offense, but your parents sound really mean.”

“I mean, they’re not nice by any stretch, but they don’t hit us or anything. Controlling and judgemental for sure, but it’s mostly cold indifference.”

Gon paused, turning his head to look directly into his eyes. Killua gulped.

“Just because your family didn’t give you much attention or show you kindness and affection, doesn’t mean you don’t deserve those things!” he emphasized his point by squeezing Killua’s hand under the blanket.

Killua’s cheeks were suddenly on fire, no doubt turning bright pink, and he was grateful the only light in the room was from the tv.

“Thanks, Gon.”

He didn’t have the nerve to squeeze back, he also didn’t quite expect the twinge of disappointment he felt when Gon let go of his hand.

After that, they fell into a comfortable silence, the storm was still raging on outside, the bowl of cheese puffs now laid discarded on the floor, and the baking show they’d been watching was entering the semi final. Gon let out a long yawn, stretching his limbs and leaning into Killua’s side.

His proximity fried his brain. He was trying his best to relax, but he felt stiff from head to toe with anxiety. It wasn’t that he didn’t want Gon close to him, it was just so new. When he felt Gon’s head fall onto his shoulder and rest there, he thought his heart was going to beat out of his chest. He was suddenly aware of his breathing and every move he made. He didn’t want to move or do anything to disturb Gon, so he decided the best course of action was to just relax. He focused on calming his breathing, and after a while his heartbeat was a little less frantic, and his body a little less tense.

He wasn’t used to this. Not just the cuddling, but the soft touches on his arm when they spoke sometimes, the hand on his shoulder when Gon was laughing extra hard, or the high fives and sometimes hugs when Gon was excited... It all felt so foreign. But still, as strange as it was to him, he couldn’t help but lean into it. Gon’s gravitational pull was seemingly inescapable.

In this moment, with Gon laying against him, head on his shoulder, it actually felt kind of... nice to be close to someone. He was warm and cozy as their body heat mingled under the blanket, and Gon was soft and solid against him. It was comforting in a way he’d never experienced, and couldn’t quite describe. When he actually let himself enjoy the affection instead of overthinking it, it felt pretty amazing. Without even realizing, he slowly began to let his guard down.

With Gon next to him he was actually distracted from his anxiety thoughts long enough for sleep to creep it’s way in. He felt so secure and comfortable, and it made him a little angry that he was falling asleep, he didn’t want this moment to end. When his eyelids started to feel heavy he knew he couldn’t fight it anymore.

He whispered, “Gon, I’m getting pretty tired, I think I’m gonna head to bed.”

No response.

He tried a little louder this time, “Gon?”

Nothing.

He slowly craned his neck to the side and saw that Gon’s face was slack, and his eyes were closed. He was asleep. His first thought was to gently wake him up so they could head their separate ways and go to bed. But when he tried to move, he just didn’t have it in him. His second thought was that maybe it would be okay to just let himself fall asleep. To let himself fall into the warmth and comfort of the moment, and to let his head gently rest against Gon’s as he drifted to sleep. And so he did.

[averagedoctor]

Breakups and beginnings

11th doctor x reader

Pronouns: gender neutral

Word count: 2,462 (I didn’t realize I had written so much wow)

TWs: crying?, breakup?

Tagging: @evyiione

Summary: While out trying to clear your head of a recent breakup, a odd man sits down next to you.

A/N: I got broken up with a few weeks ago which is where the inspiration for this came from. This also took forever to write and isn’t really edited so yeah there’s that

Wiping your eyes, you took a shaky breath in. You never thought that this was actually going to happen. You looked away from the person in front of you and sniffled. Tears still dripped down your face and you tried once again to get rid of them. It didn’t work. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you turned around and left, walking home, not looking back. You couldn’t believe that this was real. You didn't want to think that this was real. Except, it was, and there wasn’t anything you could do about it. So, instead, you walked home, crying.

Reaching your stoop, you realized just how biting cold it was outside. Funny, it didn’t even register to you since you were so wrapped up in your thoughts. Unlocking your door, you headed to the bathroom to assess the damage. Your eyes were swollen, nose raw, and cheeks incredibly flushed and red. Splashing water on your face, your thoughts couldn’t help but drift back to them and tears welled in your eyes once again. It was so surreal and yet you had just experienced it. Breathing in, you backed up and slid down the bathroom wall, burying your face in your hands and sobs. Truly, painfully, sobbing. You hadn’t cried like that in a long time and it felt like an old friend. You wished it didn’t feel that way.

After an hour or so, you collected yourself. You hadn’t felt so drained and lonely in such a long time. Immediately, your thoughts rushed to texting them, they always made you feel better, until the wave of reality crashed down on your, forcing you to remember that you no longer had that lifeline. Closing your eyes, you breathed deep, attempting to hold more sobs at bay. You couldn’t stay in your house anymore, so, against your better judgement, you left. Whisking your coat on and stuffing your phone in your pocket (even though there wouldn’t be anyone texting you) you headed out. To where, you weren’t sure. All you knew is that you had to leave. Just leave. The last conversation you had with them played through your mind as you walked the bitter streets. Streetlights were the only thing that illuminate your path.

“I’m sorry.”

That was the one sentence you couldn’t shake. You hated how sincere they sounded. “I’m sorry.” If they were so sorry, then why did they do this to you? Why did they figure hurting you was so much better? It wasn’t like it mattered anymore but you wanted to know so badly. A tear fell down your cheek and you quickly got rid of it, continuing to hurry forward.

Eventually, you reached an empty park. It was nearly pitch black and the sky was full of stars. You were a little shocked that you were here, considering that it was so far from where you live, but you figured you were too wrapped up in your thoughts to process anything. You took a seat on the nearest bench you could find. The cold metal bit at your legs and you shivered against it, wrapping your coat tighter around yourself. Looking off into the distance, you let the numbness consume you. You couldn’t even find the energy to cry, all you could do was sit on that freezing bench and watch the trees dance in front of your vision as the dark twisted their shapes.

You couldn’t say how long you had been there before, suddenly, a man had sat down on the bench next to you. Fear immediately filled your body. It was the middle of the night and there was a strange man next to you and you had no idea what his agenda was. Still, you couldn’t help your head turning and looking at him. He had brown hair that swept over one side of his face. His clothes were interesting for this time of night, but he could have just come from a party. He was wearing a red bow tie, white button down, a light brown tweed jacket, and some color of dress pants that your eyes couldn’t pick up in the dim light. You didn’t say a word and you could feel the blood draining from your face. He looked shocked at your reaction.

“Oh, hello! I didn’t mean to scare you, you just looked upset and I wanted to see if you were okay. I should have thought about the time of night it was, really. Honest mistake, I forget about it sometimes. Well then, are you alright?” He rambled off, looking at you with expectant eyes. Your fear ebbed. He seemed harmless enough, just a nice guy looking out for another person. Nearly anybody else would have seen you and hurried on by or not even been outside at all.

“I…” You paused, trying to decide whether to lie or not, “I’m not alright.” You admitted at last, hanging your head. The man gave you a sympathetic frown. “It’s really no big deal though. You didn’t have to stop to talk to me. I’ll be fine. You should go, enjoy your night.” You said, looking at your lap, still.

“I stopped by because you seemed sad. I can’t stand seeing anybody sad.” He left it at that and it was up to you to say something now.

“Well, okay.” You opened your mouth to continue speaking but paused, looking at the man for a quick second. Even thinking about saying the words and admitting it was real was causing your throat to close up. “Um.” You coughed, a blush forming on your cheeks. Your eyesight turned to the trees in front of you. “My partner. They left me.” You stammered out, tears pricking at your eyes. Shifting, you swiped your hand at them. “It’s… it’s dumb. I knew, I knew, and yet… I’m still surprised and, and hurt and yeah. That’s my night.” You huffed out in a laugh, mirroring self deprecating. “Sorry. That was pathetic of me.” You laced your fingers together, worrying with the skin.

“I’m so sorry.” He said with such sincerity that it hurt your heart. Who knew a stranger could be so nice.

“Yeah, but nothing can be done, so…” You trailed off, going to stare at his shoes now, trying to decipher their color in the dark. “What’s, uh, what’s your name?”

“The Doctor or just Doctor.”

“Y/N.” You replied with a curt nod. It was an odd name but somehow it fit him. You couldn’t have imagined him having any other name. Maybe John, but that was besides the point.

“Thank you.” You blurted out suddenly. “My night has been going horribly. I have no one to talk to and everything was just building inside. I thought I was going to explode. I didn’t realize how much I needed to say the truth out loud until you. So, thanks.” You finished lamely, now holding eye contact with him.

“Of course. I try to be helpful like that. Plus, people like to talk to me. I guess I have one of those faces.” He joked with an easy smile. Putting your hands on your knees, you pushed yourself to stand.

“I should be going.” You excused, pointing behind you.

“Would you want a lift home? It’s cold.” He reasoned, standing up as well. You hesitated, knowing you shouldn’t trust a stranger like that, but you were now noticing the cold and couldn’t bear the walk back home.

“Alright.” You caved, sticking your hands in your jacket pocket. The man lit up at your response.

“This way.” He motioned, striding in front of you, and the two of you walked out of the park.

About a block away, there lay a tall object blocking the horizon, a bright light at the top of it a beacon. The Doctor headed straight towards it and you trailed behind, cautious. He stopped right at the doors, waving you to come over.

“This… this doesn’t look like a  car.” You joked, nervously. It was some decades old blue police box. You hadn’t even ever seen one in person before and didn’t think any existed anymore.

“Oh, it’s better than a car.” He winked, tapping the wood lighting with a finger. “You can go in, it’s perfectly safe.” He assured you, heading to push open the door.

“I don’t think we could both fit in there. I should just walk.” You said quickly. You thought you could trust this man, but this was getting weird now.

“It’s terribly cold. Please, just step in for a second, I think you’ll be surprised.” The Doctor pleaded, running a hand through his hair.

“Fine.” You said, curtly. You couldn’t think of any way to excuse yourself out of this situation so you figured you would be better off stepping in.

As he pushed open the door, you shut your eyes and stumbled in, your hand a guide on the wooden wall. The wood that turned to a cool metal as you entered. Your eyes snapped open with the texture change and you found yourself in a much larger space than you ever could have imagined. It was all gleaming metal with a control console in the center of it all. Stairs were fanned around the room, leading off to who knows where.

“Oh my god.” Was all you could breathe out, spinning around slowly so you could take in all that was around you. The Doctor stood by with a pleased smile on his face, leaning on a  stair rail in front of you.

“I know.” He said, hopping up to the control panel. “So, care to go someplace other than home?”

“Huh?” You tilted your head, walking over to him. “What do you mean? What happened to going home?” A light blush formed on his cheeks and his eyes darted everywhere but your face.

“Well, this is my ship, the TARDIS. She can travel through space and time and I thought, maybe, you’d like a distraction… I can drop you at home, if you want.”

“Space… and time?”

“Yes, anywhere. Maybe not the 652nd sector, but anywhere else.” You scoffed and rested a hand on the cool metal of the console.

“What about a star being born?” The Doctor’s eyes lit up happily and he whizzed off, yanking levers here and there, and soon enough the TARDIS was bucking and shaking. You gripped tight to anything near you in hopes to stay somewhat upright. Then, just as soon as it had started, it stopped. The Doctor skipped along to the doors and guesterued at you to come over. Regaining your balance, you shakily walked over to the doors.

“Are you ready?” He asked, hands tensing on the handles. You nodded in reply.

He flung open the doors with a flourish, beaming at the sight before you. It was stunning. He had brought you just as it was starting to form and so many beautiful things were happening before you at once. Tears filled your eyes and you blinked them away, shocked. You had never cried at anything beautiful before.

You and the Doctor stood there for the whole process, you gaping in awe the entire time, and the Doctor watching with a pleased smile on his face.

“Why a star being born?” He questioned you when it was over, the two of you walking back to the main area.

You shrugged, thinking. “New beginning, I guess.” He patted you on the shoulder and went to go set the coordinates to home. With a quick jostle, you were back on Earth, back at your home.

“Is this what you always do?” You were sitting on the stairs leading up to the center.

“Yes.” He replied, taking a seat next to you.

“Alone?”

“Sometimes. I try not to be.”

“Where are the people you’re with then?” That question only earned you silence and the Doctor averting his gaze.

“Sorry.” You said hastily, wanting to recover for your blunder.

“It’s fine.” He assured, looking back at you and giving you a tight smile.

“Thank you, for everything. I really needed that tonight.” You stood up, giving the man a smile, your first real one of the night. “I should be going now, though, for real.” You laughed, anxiously. You were never good at being the one to initiate the goodbye. Just like… no. You weren’t going to think about them right now. They weren’t going to ruin this for you. “Goodnight, Doctor.” You waved to him, walking over to the doors to leave. Cracking open one, you were just getting ready to step out into the cold night when you heard noises behind you and turned around. It was the Doctor, standing at the base of the stairs now, shifting his weight, and adjusting his bowtie.

“Actually, Y/N, would you want to come travel with me?” He rubbed his hands together nervously. Your eyes softened and you frowned.

“I’m sorry, Doctor. I have a life that I need to take charge of.”

“Yes, of course.” He nodded multiple times, lowering his hands. In a moment of pure impulse, you rushed over to this near stranger and gave him a hug.

“Be safe.” You whispered to him before fleeing out into the cold. Your walk home was monumentally better now that you could replay all that you had seen tonight in your mind. You hardly even thought about them until you got into bed that night. That’s when the tears broke free and flowed from your eyes. Even new stars and strange, wonderful, men couldn’t stop the aching loneliness you now felt without them in your life. Hopefully the star would be enough to show you that things can begin again and be more beautiful than they were before.

The Doctor sat down slowly on the stairs. He found that his breath was stolen from his lungs and it took a minute before he could breathe normally again. It’s always the good ones, the best ones, that got away. All the possible futures shattered in the instant they decided to leave. He understood, of course, that you were in a spot where going off with him would be a lot like being tied down and back in that relationship you had just been thrust from. He knew, but that didn’t mean it pained him any less. He put his head between his legs as some tears fell through the cracks and tried to think about how much happier he had made you tonight and how you would carry this with you for the rest of the life. Surprisingly, it helped him feel a tiny bit better and soon enough he was pulling himself up off those steps and shooting himself straight into another adventure, another world.

[freemansmockingjay]

i. James Freeman Pronouns: he/him Sexuality: ? Height: 6'1’’ Nationality: British Race: mixed race, Caucasian British mother, black British father Eye colour: Blue Hair: Naturally brown. Silver and black as story progresses Age: 27

James, or as he goes by his preferred nickname, Jay, Freeman was a 27 year old construction worker who only worked for the simpler things in life. Food, weed and video games. Though, seemingly coming from a complicated yet mysterious background, he lived freely and did as he pleased. Jay had a kind yet sarcastic personality. His friends consider him the smartest in their circle and a ‘bloody fantastic writer’. Jay  cared  deeply  for  his  friends and had their backs, even if his sarcastic and mocking   personality   did   annoy them from time to time. He was still as loyal as any friend should be, especially to his childhood best friend; Mike Maiden.

    Right after the gruesome and tragic day of March 17th 2011, it was clear that Jay couldn’t handle the, what he assumed, unmerciful curse that was put upon him. Jay now being undead with a screaming voice inside his head, he assumed by an unfortunate event that the only way to subside the voice was to kill. He then soon comes to realize and understand that it is not actually the murdering that subsides the voice; but the blood spill itself. 

Now not only did what happened that day scar his head and left eye, it also very much scarred his moral conscious. His mannerisms becoming more violent and his personality shifting to torment and even more mockery, especially to his victims. He comes to kidnap, torture and antagonize his victims. Usually finding this victims at bars or parties, as he was known to enjoy them during his early 20s. Jay messes with his victim’s one way or another until he decides he’s done or    bored    with    them; dropping them off somewhere secluded. Sometimes but not often, he can become reckless and over excited, accidentally killing who he had kidnapped; which results to him being irritated and annoyed, claiming ’killing is boring’. Such claims makes it seem as though he  dislikes  the kidnapping part the most as he has to avoid accidentally killing them when he knocks them out. As more victims come to survive being held by such a monster, the victims will always end up telling everyone what they hated yet remember the most; his mockery. As this pattern arises, the media become more and more aware of the situation; this results in the people and media now dubbing Jay Freeman as ’Mockingjay’. England’s most notorious serial killer.

ii. Michael Maiden Pronouns: he/him Sexuality: Bisexual Height: 5'9’’ Nationality: British Race: Caucasian Eye colour: Brown Age: 27

Michael, most definitely preferred to be called Mike, Maiden was 27 years old, currently working on different jobs as his parents were very much financially stable enough to let their only, yet precious son do what job he preferred. Though Mike was set on wanting to do something in medics, even in his only year at college, he was also a very talented guitarist, which of course, made him very popular with girls. Mike has always been a ladies' man, a certain charm radiated off of him, even though he very much could seem broody at times, his handsome   face   and   pretty   smile, though only seen by his family and friends, wooed a lot of people. Although only standing 5'9, that didn't stop him becoming prom king at school either. Despite all this, Mike had little interest in what people thought of him. Calm, cool and collected, nonetheless, you did not want to piss this guy off in any way shape or form. Usually the level headed and most rationally thinking person of his friendship circle, if insulted or for someone to insult his closest of friends, he would easily lash out, raising his voice to let that person know he's not to be messed with.

However, Mike had a secret that only his journal knew of. He was in love. Head over heels, goo goo eyes in love. Many girls would always wonder who he so secretly admired, though, he would never tell. Jay Freeman. His best friend since he was nine years old. Mike and Jay have inseparable since. A special bond kept the two glued together. Secrets shared that only each of them knew about each other. What made their friendship so wholesome and real was still secrets Jay, Mike and his journal knew. Of course, Jay was oblivious to Mike's obvious  crush  on  him. Mike wondered if Jay ignored it or if he really was that stupid and naive; regardless, Mike was somewhat thankful. He knew Jay had been through a lot already and he did not want to burden him with his closest friend being in love with him that Mike knew wasn't mutual.

Regardless, Mike continued to stay by his best friend's side and laugh with him as they always have done. Well... Until that fateful day in March. 

iii. Danielle Jackson Pronouns: she/her Sexuality: Bisexual Height: 5'7'' Nationality: British Race: Mix race, mother is Native American, father is Caucasian Eye colour: Dark green Hair colour: Brown Age: 27

Danielle Jackson was Jay's last proper, long term relationship, lasting from 15 to 17 years old. They hooked up again during a party of a mutual friend but never spoke of it again. Their break up was harsh yet called for; Jay's mother overdosing became too much for him and they both needed to distance themselves from each other. Danielle was extremely close to Jay during school and the first year of college; she was very much in love with him, just as he was in love with her. Both of them making a very attractive couple, it seemed like they were meant to be. They weren't just lovers, they    were    also    friends. They would relied on each other and had each other's back when needed be. However, there was one thing that they constantly disagreed on. Of course, not obvious to Jay but to everyone else, Danielle and the rest of Jay and Mike's friend group knew exactly how Mike felt. They weren't as naive as Jay was to the situation. Mike  was   in   love   with   Jay... and Danielle hated it. Mike and Danielle were bitter rivals. Although Mike never acted on his feelings, Danielle was afraid if he did, he would win Jay over somehow. She knew how close they were and she, being in love with Jay, didn't want him being taken away from her. So, the rivalry began between Danielle Jackson and Mike Maiden. Insults were thrown and middle fingers were constantly flipped. Jay had to calm them both down, reassuring both of them that they both mean a lot to him.

Danielle has a headstrong personality type, her beauty can definitely act as a disguise for true   her   strength   and will power. Even during her time in G00dbye_W0rld and prior, she still managed to stay the sanest out of the three; even keeping up her gorgeous looks - working out and using the makeup from other people within the building. Though, being stronger than she looks, she never brought herself to harm Mike, regardless of how much she hated him.

iv. Riley Clark Pronouns: she/her Sexuality: Straight Height: 5'5'' Nationality: British Race: Caucasian Eye colour: Brown Hair colour: Dyed bright red(Naturally brown) Age: 30

Riley Clark, a self made reporter and big time journalist. Riley had been interested in criminology since the first year of college, even taking up a year to study psychology to understand more of the mind and how the people she was so fascinated by thought. As she turned 20 years old, she landed    her    first    article on an 'on the run murderer', Johnathan Murray. She continued to research and follow up on others' research. Three years had passed and the police had finally found Murray. Though, still just a small time journalist, she was chosen to interview him a little time after he was placed into prison. Her interview with this murderer made her    more    intrigued    with   these   types   of   people; wondering how these wretched people became this way. More time passed and soon enough, another murderer was lurking the streets of Brixton and London. A profile of the murderer had been exposed to the world; James Freeman. As his case grew and his victims were interviewed, it was clear how a lot of people began to feel about it. Surprisingly to Riley,   it    was   divided. Riley, like many others, questioned if he was really to be considered a serial killer. Jay had murdered six people, not including the men at the construction site that the media also thought he was responsible for, yet now his victims were being let go. Kidnap and torture, of course, were still on the list, but Riley and the ones on the same side as her, wondered if there was something more.

As a few more years past and now what the media are calling 'Mockingjay', has still yet to be apprehended. People were talking more than ever... and, so was Riley. More people wanted to interview her, have her write some articles on her now favourite person to write about. Mr Freeman then started to become her life. Research, streaming, the lot. Even Mike Maiden's mother, who wouldn't speak to anyone else, allowed Riley into her home to interview her. The more Riley researched, she soon became like many others have. Infatuated. She started to grow actual feelings for Jay. Of course, like many online aren't naive about, James Freeman is attractive and that itself caused problems. People were, like Riley, starting to fall for this famous serial killer. Riley knew it was crazy and she did everything in her power to push it to the back of her mind.

Soon enough; Riley needed assistance. She didn't want her feelings for Mockingjay to cloud her judgement on her writing. She interviewed more than a few people until finally found someone. Nathan Garcia.

During her time in Jay's basement, she wanted to believe that this man could be redeemed in some way. But as time pressed on, she was starting to realize that even if he could, she was not the one to do it.

Riley's last moments in G00dbye_W0rld were tragic yet honest; knowing the only way to end such a curse is to burn along with those who burdened it too.

v. Nathan García

Pronouns: He/him Sexuality: ? Height: 5'11'' Nationality: American Race: Cuban Eye colour: Brown Hair colour: Dark brown Age: 29

Nathan García was Riley's assistant, helping her write and edit articles on the Mockingjay case. Nathan, originally from Cuba, moved to America with his older sister for unknown reasons. He wanted to become an artist; a painter, and so he brought canvases and got to work. Some time passes and yet he can't seem to make enough money from his art to support his sister and himself. Promising his sister he would return again soon, he set out to move to London in hopes of finding a new environment and new eyes to sell his art work to. 

Creating more paintings but still not selling as much as he'd hoped, he knew he needed to find a part time job until he could get himself back on his own feet once more. Nathan knew more than anything that he didn't want to do retail, being stuck in a dead end job was definitely not his thing. He looked and looked until he came across an assistance job for a journalist. He was hesitant at first, but after speaking with Riley on the phone; her enthusiasm made him want to at least go and give it a shot.

About two weeks past, Nathan was helping Riley edit her articles and pick up her phone calls if she’s busy. It wasn’t hard work. Though, Nathan wasn’t naive and he started to realize that maybe she was infatuated by Jay. He knew it was none of his business and pushed what he thought maybe true to the side. Not having much time in Hell0_W0rld, Nathan’s personality shifted to fear and almost hysteria when he learned the truth of everything that’s going on. Shoving his way past Mike and out of his building in a panic, he found his way back to Jay. After finally having Jay to himself, he knew he had to save Riley and the only way to do that was to have Jay confront Mike. Nathan’s personality completely shifts after Riley’s death, realizing he is the only one to not have a voice; though of course, coming with a terrible consequence. Arriving in America, he surprises his older sister, Marianna, telling her he wishes nothing else now than to stay home. Unknowingly to him, he was followed.

[comeondowntosouthparkrpg-blog]

Lola Thomas

Will she friend us on Facebook yet? Lola has been accepted! Send in your blog and faceclaim!

out of character info

Name/Alias: lexi (yeah im gonna try this again because looks like the negativity is GONE. BLESS.)

Pronouns: she/her

Age: 18

Join Our Discord: Yeaaaah

Timezone: central

Activity: 7 ( i do work so activity will prolly bump before 2pm and after 8pm lmao )

Triggers: nada

Password: jimmy can fast pass my ass ;))

Character that you’re applying for: Lola Thomas

Favourite ships for your character: going in this with a clean slate so try and give me a favorite ship? ’,:)

in character info

Full name: Lola Diane Thomas

Birthday: May 20th.

Sexuality, gender, pronouns: pansexual, female, she/her

Age and grade: 16 (almost 17) && senior.

Faceclaim: Taylor Hill

Appearance:

Head: Lola is what you call a tall glass of water. She’s refreshingly attractive. Her eyes are neither blue or green but a weird combination of the two colors, making them pop against her naturally darkened complexion. Her hair is soft and wavy and like to tangle near the ends by the time Lola is out of school and on the way to work. It’s color likes to change with the rare sunlight, meaning if she is outside in the sun all day every day natural highlights will appear in her honey chestnut tresses. Her nose is like a little button that deserves to be booped constantly. Her lips are full and plump- to that she owes genetics. Lola believes it is her only good trait.

Body: A natural looker. She stands at about 5'8, so be prepared if you’re tiny. She will tower you with her legs for DAYS.  She doesn’t have particularly large assets but they are there. And it’s a nice handful on either side of the equator. You just gotta look for them behind her non-stop barrage of sweaters. She likes to say she has a white girl booty- its cute && snooty. Her shoulders and cheeks are very, very, lightly dusted in freckles you can only see in the winter. Despiter her tall figure, Lola is NOT a bean pole, she’s slim thicccc weighing about 145 pounds and it’s not in her face.

Style: Lola dresses like she lives in Goodwill, trendy and thrifty. She would kill for knee socks and button up blouses. She aims to look like ‘The classic look of a teenager in the 90’s’. Her shoes will never don a heel for she believes she is 'too tall’ for them. She likes to keep a mellow color scheme for all her clothing items. Tan, green, white. Sometimes she looks like the first instagram post you see tagged * v i n t a g e. *

Personality: 

First off let’s get this straight, with Lola it’s not a personality but more of how she adopts a personality to fit each social clique she is suckered into that day. If you dig deeep deeeeeep down pass the meme references and pop culture shout outs- she’s awfully shy and hates making the first move in ANY kind of situation. She is sympathetic to most of the problems she hears- other than relationship ones. What’s a feeling for someone else other than your cat? She doesn’t get it. Skittish doesn’t even cover how much of a fraidy cat she is.. One little boo when she’s not expecting it is enough to get Lola to shriek and jump three feet into the air. She does have a nuturing instinct, finding it rather difficult to see anyone lonely or upset.

Once you get to know Lola, she is a sweetheart with a soul of gold. She would freeze in the frigid temperatures to keep her friend warm. She’s the girl who will sneak you into her house so you dont have to go home if you’re scared too or can’t. She is quite snarky however- as if a dam broke and every witty thought ever spun in her head rushes out. Once you get her talking about something she is personally interested in, good luck shutting her up. Lola is also a very superstitious person. Never one too step on a crack or split a pole. Her biggest quirk would have to be her need for reassurance that her jokes are funny. She thinks of herself as a comedian but is already sure everyone thinks she is trying too hard. She is a rather dull girl on the outside, moody and solemn. But if you can crack into her cold shell there’s an ooey gooey sweetness inside. Lola is often easily upset- movies to road kill make her tear up. Anytime she even gets mad the salry reminders if her lameness well up in her eyes. And that only pisses her off more.

Despite having a cool exterior she can and will snap- just push the right buttons. 

History:

Lola wouldnt deem herself an outcast yet she would always feel that way. Whether she was cheering with the girls or writing lists with Jenny, her feelings were uncontrollable. Her anxiety makes it impossible to determine if someone is being nice to her or if they have a plot to harm her. In middle school, Lola secretly dreamt of becoming a goth kid- going as far as painting her nails black for two years. But her fears never made her set out to do it. Plus everyone was a little then so isn’t that technically confirming? Her school work was the only thing Lola was ever certain in. Work was easy, you couldn’t fuck it up by being a complete oddball. It was practically memorization. After starting high school, Lola was practically a wallflower. Hell she was the wall and the flower all wrapped in one. She dropped every friendship and dedicated herself to her studies and her pets. After she got a job she was allowed to have them finally and her fur babies were the only things she cared about truly and deeply. For they could never hate their mother.

Things were always tough for Lola, socially or economically, but that didn’t mean her childhood sucked. It just meant instead of a Barbie dreamhouse for Christmas she got the summer edition Barbie. Not a house. Just the doll. Jealousy is an emotion often clouding her anxieties and judgement on people. It caused her to lose her best friend since.. Well, as long as she could remember. Lola grew jealous and almost possessive over Jenny. She probably didn’t mean too but when she saw Jenny getting along with people when she couldnt caused a burning rage to settle in her chest. It got so bad Lola didnt even speak to anyone for a week before blowing up and ruining her only real friendship.

Just because she looks innocent doesn’t mean the brunette is. There are probably a few flat tires and keyed cars residing in South Park that are Lola’s own doing. Not to mention she is a total bystander. You wanna skip school? Cool, yeah I’ll watch for a teacher. You wanna smoke pot in the bathroom? It’s all good as long as she gets a hit. These are all childish 'bad behaviors’ but as Lola sees it, there’s no point in trying that hard to be bad. After all the one time she tried it, the poor thing almost died from hypothermia after blindly listening to a slumber party dare.

You aren’t supposed to sneak out in slumber parties. Or streak in Wal-Mart. Or jump of a bridge into negative temp waters. But these are all things Lola did too prove she was cool. And it ended up with her grounded, being hospitalised for pneumonia, and gaining a large fear of heights. And a hatred for party games.

Sample paragraph:

Of course, it was another cold blustery day. Chestnut tresses fluttered in front of her sight along the whole way home, it didn’t matter how many times she forcefully blew the bangs out of her face- they always flopped back down. Numbing fingers clutched tighter to the soft cloth lining of her jacket pockets. The index fingers and thumbs of both hands pinching at the materiel. Gosh- why is it always freezing? Dull orbs flittered around the blank scenery of the all too familiar path from her house to the school. The only sounds Lola could hear were the crunching of her flats against the snow and the wind whipping furiously around her. Boring. It was all white and boring. Lola was tired of being bored. She imagined that would be the only feeling she could muster for the rest of her life and it made the corners of her glossed lips tug down.

She shook her head as if to clear the thoughts instantly, humming a tune to distract herself as she continued on her trek.

One step, two step, three step…

…Sixteenth step-

Lola really needed a friend. A small sigh lifted her chest and as it billowed past her mouth she noticed movement in her peripherals. Was she really looking down this whole time like an idiot? How embarrassing! She clenched her hands into fists, further rumpling the jacket from its own pockets. Avoiding any kind of eye contact she swayed over to the side near the street and hurried her steps along. Too fast to count now. She passed the figure and her hands slowly unfurled. The blood rushing to her digits made them quite warm and her face flushed as well. God she was awkard.

Just as she thought she was in the clear, Lola felt a tap on her shoulder and her heart stuttered in its cavity as she stumbled to a stop. Fuck.

Headcanons:

🌟 owns a bike but rarely rides it.

🌟 has one cat- a black kitten named sparrow.

🌟 also two rats- yin and yang which are little chocolate colored sisters.

🌟 3.8 GPA

🌟 wants to learn french

🌟 owns a polaroid camera kinda girl

🌟 gardens in her free time

Anything else:

Im really insecure so if it takes me time to reply its cuz im demeaning myself and my baby and my words.