#to rescue some folks mind you

[roll-a-natural-queer]

I haven't been able to play D&D for almost a month due to the holidays but tomorrow is my Frostmaiden group's first session of the new year! I'm very excited!

[starlightomatic]

hi, i just want to remind folks that a lot of people on here have personal connections to people who died or were kidnapped on october 7th. please keep this in mind when you want to understand why we react so much when people denying, minimize, or celebrate it.

a couple of months ago i met vivian silver's best friend. vivian silver was a long-time peace activist who was burned to a crisp so badly on october 7th that it took weeks to identify her body. my ex-boyfriend's family was friends with her as well, and they spent those weeks believing she was a hostage and hoping for her return, only to discover that she had been dead the whole time.

a couple weeks ago i met the sister of a nova festival survivor. she said that the hours when her brother was out of contact and they didn't know if he was alive or dead were both the shortest and longest hours of her life. another friend of mine lost five friends that day. yet another friend lost two friends who were on a biking trip in southern israel.

a couple who i know because they attended my childhood synagogue while in the US for two years lived in kibbutz nahal oz. they always told us how beautiful it was, and how they wanted us to visit it. now we can't; it's destroyed, with several of its residents killed. they and their two young girls miraculously survived after hiding in their safe room for ten hours before being rescued. a good friend of mine's boyfriend is from one of the kibbutzim that was destroyed, but he was not there at the time and so survived.

once, many years ago when the ex-boyfriend who i mentioned above (the one who knew vivian) were on a gap year in israel, i visited him on the kibbutz he was living on on a thursday night, and his friend gave us a ride to a bus station the next day to help us get to our shabbat destinations. the friend was headed on to visit friends at kibbutz be'eri, now destroyed, with over 10% of residents killed. i don't know if that man's friends survived.

another friend of mine, who was my coworker for several months when she was in the US last year, lived in metula in northern israel, on the border with lebanon. because of the war, she and many others are internally displaced within israel, because her home is not safe from rockets. recently, a mutual friend told me her house has been destroyed.

another friend of mine attended virtual synagogue with chaim katzman, a young man who spent time in the west bank protecting palestinian shepherds. when hamas fighters opened the closet he was hiding in to capture hostages, they shot him immediately, before taking hostage the women and children hiding in the closet with him.

in total, i have at least eight friends-of-friends who were killed on october 7th. the actual number is probably far higher, since i have a lot of friends in israel and many israelis lost people; but the eight is confirmed.

all of this to say: please understand when you're interacting with me and other jumblr bloggers that this is not theoretical to us. maybe to some of you, it's an academic excercise in seeing fanon's works in practice. maybe it's about decolonial theory and you might think "ah, well, decolonization is violent, what a shame but it was necessary." please remember it's easier to think that when you're not the one sitting at a shabbat lunch table with your mom's old friend who had to learn within the past few months that a woman she'd built movements with and was best friends with had been burned so badly she couldn't be identified for weeks.

i already know that people will believe the purpose of this post is to "generate consent for genocide" no matter what i say, but i'm going to say it anyway: nothing justifies genocide. nothing justifies the brutality that israel visits on the palestinian people. the people of gaza have gone through an order of magnitude more horror than what israelis have. the entire gaza strip is destroyed; people's homes, schools, mosques, orange orchards, everything. entire families have been killed with not a single surviving member. people have starved to death. people lack sanitation, menstrual products, and safe places to give birth. children are operated on without anesthesia. this is one of the greatest humanitarian crises of this century and it is israel's fault.

we need a ceasefire now; we needed a ceasefire yesterday; we needed a ceasefire months ago; we needed this never to begin. blowing up a child in gaza does not bring back vivian, it does not bring back chaim, it does not bring back my friend's cycling friends. it doesn't untraumatize the girl who waited hours to know if her brother was okay or the young family trapped for ten hours in their safe room. and i know for a fact that vivian and chaim would never have wanted this. not in their names, or at all.

so i am not posting this in an attempt to deny, minimize, excuse, or justify the genocide of the people of gaza, or to deny or excuse the nakba, the israeli raids in the west bank, settler violence, land theft both past and present, burning of olive trees, checkpoints and the restrictions on palestinian movement, the denial of right of return, and the fact that most palestinians do not have voting rights in the country that controls their lives.

i also understand that there are folks on here who have just as many personal connections to gaza -- or more -- than i do to israel. that it's deeply personal to them too, and they have watched as loved ones die, places they love and remember are bombed to dust, and people continue to minimize it, excuse it, or fight over semantics. i understand that this post will not land well for many of those folks, and that it will have activated people to hear me speak of nahal oz as a beautiful place i wanted to visit, because that land likely once belonged palestinian families, and was seized after its residents were herded into gaza during the nakba.

and.

people are human. humans deserve to live in safety. friends of humans who are harmed will feel pain, even if those friends lived on colonized land. i also live on colonized land, i am a settler. i live on the lands of indigenous peoples. when i looked up the nation whose land i live on, i can find information about their history but no information on where they went or whether they still exist. i don't know if they experienced a genocide and were all killed, or if they joined another people. i know i have never met any of them, and i live on their land.

and i'm not the only one. millions of people on this site are also colonizers of indigenous land. if you are not indigenous or Black, and you live in the US or Canada, you are every bit as complicit as my friends' dead friends in israel. your beautiful town is not morally better than nahal oz. you recognize yourself and your friends as people; you see their humanity.

i am beyond begging you to see the humanity of israelis, i think many of you can't. instead, this is my request:

remember, as you're doing your callouts, as you're describing me as evil and a person who needs to be blocked for the safety of your followers to i don't infect you or them with my evil:

i say and feel the things i do in large part from a traumatic event that occurred less than a year ago that i am personally connected to. please use what you know of trauma to understand that.

and then, if you can do that, maybe we can start to understand how trauma plays into why israel is the way it is; why trauma is actually the biggest player. so many of you have asked "how could a people who've been brutalized and oppressed brutalize and oppress another people?" my question: why would you expect that not to happen? trauma responses include fear, anger, aggression, compassion fatigue. when a population of descendants of refugees and genocide survivors, in a world that they believe to be out to get them, either supports or turns a blind eye to their government's atrocities, i am not surprised. saddened, but not surprised.

we then have to start asking: who enacted those traumas? when will we start to see the pain of both palestinians and israelis in light of the violence inflictated by far more powerful entities? by germany in the holocaust; russia and poland in the pogroms; swana arab countries in the persecution of jews post-WW2? who's at the top here? many of you are happy to believe it's jews pulling all the strings, but who set this in motion?

who denied jews safe haven before the holocaust, thus enabling this trauma to be inflicted in the first place? the US, and nearly all countries around the world. who restricted jewish immigration even post-holocaust, thus funneling huge numbers of jewish refugees into palestine, overwhelming the population even if israel had not been a colonial project? again, the US, and many other countries. who made double-promises and drew arbitrary lines in the region leading to decades of conflict? the UK.

who's funding this war? the US. Russia. Iran. don't be fooled that any of them care about israelis or palestinians. they have their own interests.

israelis and palestinians are the collateral damage in a horrible chess game that world powers have been playing for centuries. but they are not collateral damage, they are human beings, and their lives have value. collective liberation demands we look at the levels above the oppressor to see who is holding the strings, who put the puzzle pieces in place, who set off the levers and strings in a noxious rube goldberg machine that left nahal oz and be'eri in ruins and gaza destroyed almost beyond recognition.

my friends' little girls cowering in a safe room were never the enemy. chaim katzman hiding in a closet hoping the fighters would overlook it and leave him alive, or at very least capture him instead of kill him, was never the enemy. and they can't be; not if our goal is freedom and safety for everyone in israel/palestine. choosing who will dominate and who will be the oppressed minority in whatever comes next will not be the answer we need, and will not be liberation. just as zionism was not liberation. what can we build together, when this is all over?

what do we need to dismantle and destroy?

let's start with what we don't: homes. villages. cities. kibbutzim. orange trees. olive trees.

and who do we need to fight?

let's start with who we don't: the children.

[weirdheadcanons]

The thing is…the whole Bruce cutting Jason's throat thing?

In canon Under the Red Hood, the infamous Jason Bruce confrontation happens right after Bludhaven gets nuked.

And Dick has rushed off to Bludhaven, and is practically killing himself via exposure to radiation - he is trying to rescue people, or so he says, but it's obvious no one is left to rescue and Dick is either straight up delusional or literally trying to kill himself.

After dealing with Jason and the Joker Bruce rushes off to Bludhaven to find Dick - at that point Dick is almost dead from exhaustion, injuries and radiation exposure.

While Jason and Bruce are confronting each other, at that point they just know Bludhaven has been nuked - they don't know what happened to Dick.

They do know, if he was there during the explosion, he is dead.

And Red Hood Jason straight up mocks Bruce about losing another son and continues on with his mind game with the Joker.

The thing is… if this happens in an AU (the kind of AUs I really want to substitute for canon) where Jason is at least half way decent and cares at least a bit about his brother…

I'm imagining Red Hood and Batman having geared up for the fight… Then, just as they are about to begin in earnest, they hear about Bludhaven.

Jason: Um. G..Goldie wasn't there, right?

Bruce:… I don't know.

Jason: What the hell you mean you don't know?!?

Bruce: (about to have another breakdown) Oh God, a nuke, if he… I..

Jason (having forgotten in his panic that he's gotten Joker tied up): What you waiting for, let's go!

Both leap into the Batmobile and drive away, leaving Joker still tied up.

Cue hurt/comfort scene at Bludhaven, Dick convinced Jason is a hallucination… Everyone ending up in the Batcave. Everyone kinda forgetting about Joker in the panic.

Later someone - probably Tim - remembers the Joker, and they go to check on him. Jason and Bruce still arguing, but not quite at fighting level.

And find some of the folk in Crime Alley, finding the bastard who has made their lives hell in one way or other tied up and helpless, have decided to enact some justice of their own.

Joker, when they catch up, is very very dead.

Bruce and Jason looking at each other. Tim rolling his eyes in the background.

Jason:… that's one way of settling that issue.

Bruce: You did agree most of the Rogues - except Joker - may be redeemable…

Tim: Great, now can we all go home? I want a rematch.

[crypticminx]

Hi! I loved ur telling Felix if pregnant fic so could we get a p2? Maby e Felix helping reader a morning sickness. Just fluffy ❤❤

Hi my angel!!! here you go! Xoxo

Pregnancy with Felix ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

AN: part two to my headcanons, very fluffy xoxo

- Felix would grow to be exceedingly close and overbearing of you at all times–all within good reason, of course. You felt incredibly tired? No problem, his usual disorganized bed would be neatly prepped and cozy for you with a cup of tea waiting on his night side table. Morning sickness? He was behind you as you would throw up all of your unpleasant remains from the previous night, holding back your silky hair while he gently circled his palm along your sore arched back in soothing motions

- Felix would favor sleeping in with you even if that foolishly resulted in the ignorant academic missing his first morning class, but you were immensely important to him in comparison to his repetitive lectures. He’d wrap you deeply into his chest, entangling both of your legs and arms to construct some sort of warmth from each of your bare bodies. When you’d finally close your eyes to try and regain your interrupted rest, Felix would slide his hand down to just below your ribs and on your abdomen. Though you were barely showing, he could already feel some sort of connection to what was inside of you and it made him feel affectionately sympathetic. Most of all, it made him cherish you even more and from that moment onward, he was destined to continue to treat you in a way that differentiated him from any other sort of love you had ever received.

- It would be too soon for the two of you to move into Saltburn, a manageable idea Felix came up with on a whim upon the two of you trying to discuss the reality of your soon to be future that included a baby. Felix, who terribly wished he could stay with you to attend to your doting needs at every passing hour of each day, still had his classes to attend. You would carefully decide not to continue any further studies, withdrawing yourself from all your classes. Much to your angry parents dismay as they harshly yelled at you once the whole truth unraveled from your apologetic mouth through the lines of a telephone in an empty hallway. They were far away, convenient enough for you, but hearing their harsh tones of pure disappointment made you mentally feel like you had been hit by a bus; paralyzed with sadness among all your other unwanted hormones. Felix, seeing you shamefully walk back into his room was to the rescue as he tried his best to reassure you. There was nothing more he despised than seeing your pretty little eyes swell with tears that were caused from people who should've been supporting you.

- “Y/n, darling, look at me” he would softly cup your flushed, tear-stained cheeks, “I could pay for your education whenever you'd want me to, y’know?” You only nodded at him, sniffling as you felt yourself trying to keep it together. “In fact,” his dark eyes scanned the room before their full attention was back on you, “what do you say we go get a place together, yeah?”

- Felix was soon to follow in sharing the news with his parents and judging by the huge grin he sported on his gorgeous face after hanging up on the telephone, you knew that their reaction was eons away in contrast to how your folks retaliated. And with everything finally being put into motion, a flat just on the outskirts of where campus was located was hastily granted and approved to you and Felix. “Mum was practically screaming with joy,” Felix admitted as he ran his fingers through his hair, shaking his head in the process while his mind painted the image of his mother beaming with delight at the thought of a Catton grandchild.

- You imagined your flat to be cute, cozy and fitting, but this was Felix Catton we were talking about. Opening the doors after receiving the keys to your shared place, you were stunned at how breathtakingly modern and posh the interior was. A large living room accompanied with what seemed to be an extraordinarily comfortable sofa, marble stained countertops in a kitchen that was larger than your previous dorm room all topped together with 4 exquisite bedrooms. It was a strange feeling, not unsettling, but very downright gracious as you could see everything playing out as if it were a movie. Candles would be lit on the dining table, the mouth watering smell of dinner you just prepared would be flowing in the air, and there would be an eager infant placed on your hip waiting to be fed. As you’re about to feed your young, Felix would walk in, looking exhausted from a tiresome day, but happy to see the two most important people in his life.

- “So?” he would interrupt your thoughts as he could see you relishing the moment. “I love it,” you would breathlessly vow before Felix could only respond by lifting you off of your feet and cautiously twirling you around the hardwood floors of your flat.

- As the months would slowly start to progress and evolve into life with Felix, you felt at ease for once and being able to have time granted to you allowed you to focus on yourself and your pregnancy, making everything less complicated. You could take any given moment to rest and let your body prepare itself for your child. Felix would do everything in his strong willed nature to find the best doctors for you, being in attendance for every appointment with you, and always kept himself in line for having access to all of your desires.

- Changes–lots and lots of changes. Watching your stomach slowly swell outwards was fascinating and you had accompanied a new profound sense of gratefulness for yourself. Most of the girls your age would probably die if they had to say goodbye to their wardrobe of short skirts and tube tops, but that didn't matter to you anymore, what did was your baby. Felix, on the other hand, was constantly in a state of awe whenever he was around you. His protective hands were always placed on your bump, caressing it with the utmost care possible, all while extensively praising you. “So so beautiful seeing you like this, my darling,” he'd gently whisper in your ear as you laid on top of his lean body, enjoying the spell he'd put you under that was his touch. “Carrying my baby,” he hushed, kissing the top of your head, his fingers unable to stop themselves from stroking one of your sensitive breasts. “You're only going to get more beautiful.”

- With all the happiness, there were also many challenges that you faced. Feeling extremely emotional more days than others, it was mainly the rare moments that Felix wasn't home or around to embrace you with his devoted presence that made you feel like you were missing out on a chunk of events that you should've been at. Felix rushing in after a late lecture that took more of his daunting time than it should have, he swung by you, only giving you a quick pat of a kiss on your forehead, before he rummaged his tote bag of schoolwork away on an empty counter. “You're in a rush,” you observed as he changed his button down into something that seemed far more relaxed and calm. “Uh yeah,” he hurriedly spat, focussing more on fixing himself up, “Oliver and I were gonna head to the pub with a few of the guys, celebratory post midterm drinks and all that.'' Oh, you tried your hardest not to sound letdown by the fact that you would probably spend the majority of the night alone on the sofa continuing to read a catalog you had zero interest in. Felix wanted to hurdle himself to the front door, but feeling tension in the air that was so strong he could cut it with a knife, he paused and glanced at your face that was slowly becoming struck with sorrow. In response, he slowly padded his feet towards you. “What's wrong?” His tone was relaxed and not full of distraction. You sighed, feeling guilty for stopping him in his tracks, “I just feel like I've been missing out on everything,” you found your mind speaking out loud, too late in stopping yourself from speaking the truth. “I miss going out with you, being carefree and reckless,” you pouted, feeling like a fussy child. “Oh, sweetheart,” he took a seat beside you, “I can assure you’re not missing anything, in fact, I'd rather be with you all the time.” it was true, Felix didn't care for his past ways, he was more occupied in his life with you and he'd never trade that for any sleazy party. He rested a loving hand on your stomach, “this is far more important to me.”

- Felix’s favorite pastime hobby with you would be picking out names for your little one. Dressed in nothing but cozy knee high socks and an oversized T-shirt, courtesy of Felix, you would lay a journal just above your bump as your attentive ears would listen to all the ideas sprouting from Felix, smiling as his quick mind came up with more suggestions. “Genevieve for a girl?” he gave you a weary smile, not feeling too confident. “It's beautiful, but too posh and old, no? He chuckled, “mum would have a field day with that one,” he exaggerated his expression, raising his pierced eyebrow before rolling his smitten eyes. “So that's a no, I presume,” you giggled as you crossed it out with your pen.

- Your shared moments that were filled with ambience of love were your favorite times. Soaking every ounce of alone time you could get with Felix because before you knew it, the simple times would turn into long sleepless nights—and not the ones you favored the most with him. Felix would run a bath filled with relaxing salts for you to lay in as he would wash your locks and all parts of your body for you, letting his hands do the work as your head would tilt back in ease, letting all your soreness peacefully exit. The moments spent in bed mainly included Felix resting his head on your bump, freely talking to your child as his voice carried you to sleep. “I love you and your mum so much,” he kissed your bare skin with his soft lips, hoping not to stir you out of sleep, “daddy cannot wait to meet you.”

[ghost-bxrd]

The thing is...the whole Bruce cutting Jason's throat thing?

In canon Under the Red Hood, the infamous Jason Bruce confrontation happens right after Bludhaven gets nuked.

And Dick has rushed off to Bludhaven, and is practically killing himself via exposure to radiation - he is trying to rescue people, or so he says, but it's obvious no one is left to rescue and Dick is either straight up delusional or literally trying to kill himself.

After dealing with Jason and the Joker Bruce rushes off to Bludhaven to find Dick - at that point Dick is almost dead from exhaustion, injuries and radiation exposure.

While Jason and Bruce are confronting each other, at that point they just know Bludhaven has been nuked - they don't know what happened to Dick.

They do know, if he was there during the explosion, he is dead.

And Red Hood Jason straight up mocks Bruce about losing another son and continues on with his mind game with the Joker.

The thing is... if this happens in an AU (the kind of AUs we all want to substitute for canon) where Jason is at least half way decent and cares at least a bit about his brother...

I'm imagining Red Hood and Batman having geared up for the fight... Then, just as they are about to begin in earnest, they hear about Bludhaven.

Jason: Um. G..Goldie wasn't there, right?

Bruce:... I don't know.

Jason: What the hell you mean you don't know?!?

Bruce: (about to have another breakdown) Oh God, a nuke, if he... I..

Jason (having forgotten in his panic that he's gotten Joker tied up): What you waiting for, let's go!

Both leap into the Batmobile and drive away, leaving Joker still tied up.

Cue hurt/comfort scene at Bludhaven, Dick convinced Jason is a hallucination... Everyone ending up in the Batcave. Everyone kinda forgetting about Joker in the panic.

Later someone - probably Tim - remembers the Joker, and they go to check on him. Jason and Bruce still arguing, but not quite at fighting level.

And find some of the folk in Crime Alley, finding the bastard who has made their lives hell in one way or other tied up and helpless, have decided to enact some justice of their own.

Joker, when they catch up, is very very dead.

Bruce and Jason looking at each other. Tim rolling his eyes in the background.

Jason:... that's one way of settling that issue.

Bruce: You did agree most of the Rogues - except Joker - may be redeemable...

Tim: Great, now can we all go home? I want a rematch.

See? So many better ways to handle the situation. Even if Jason did use the opportunity to shove his worry aside (assuming he didn’t hate Dick in that moment as much as he hated Bruce, but nonetheless-) and taunt Bruce with it, leaving Jason to die in favor of saving the Joker—- like, duuuuude. 🫠

Love this version way more

[fireheartwraith]

Hello everyone. Climate change and lack of infrastructure has cause severe floods in the south of brazil and thousands of people are displaced or missing. If you can help, please do, especially those who use dollar or euro. You don't know far your money can take us

This tweet has a video showing how absurdly fast the water rose. Image if this was your home, completely taken by water in under three minutes. Imagine if you had children, elderly, disabled people living here. What would you do in this situation? What can you even do?

Most of the state is now underwater, and the parts that aren't don’t have power or water. Getting prescription meds and other necessities like hygiene kits and food is difficult because capitalism sucks. The military police are protecting supermarkets because the people are hungry and taking the food. Mind you, the food will spoil anyway. But god forbid people don't go hungry.

And in the midst of this chaos, public transport still isn't free. People are charging to rescue folks. So people can only be rescued by helicopter because of the currents. There are people debating whether or not they should leave pets to die.

And the government has done basically nothing. It is the government's fault, everyone knows this. The money that was supposed to go to preventing something like this simply doesn't exist. The people organizing rescues are distributing resources are the people themselves. Influencers have been doing more to the cause than the government at this point.

Some people were bringing up Madonna because the flood hit the night of her show, and they were saying the money she received should have gone to the affected people. And so she donated 10 MILLION reais. It is utter madness. There are bodies floating in the water people have to wade through.

If you can do something to help, please do

Here's a link to donate to an ngo that is feeding the displaced people

Paypal: Fathiele14@gmail.com

Edit: Floods are also displacing people in the northeast, literally on the other side of the country. The situation is dire. Remember, you are closer to being a climate refugee than being a billionaire. If I find where you make international donations to help Maranhão I'll share it here

[princessbrunette]

i'm thinkin heavily on our rival jayj n rafe au where the kook has dragged you to some rager of a party at another sprawling mansion n just maybe you drank a little more than used to - or even pressured into a few pills you don't know the name of n rafe is coked out somewhere. obvi gonna call jayj to the rescue, havin him search the grounds of this place n dodging random chicks til he finds you hazy eyed n confused in some corner - 🍓

✧˖°.🩷✧˖°.

you don’t remember having texted jj, because it’s a pleasant surprise when you see him — somewhere in the back of your mind questioning why on earth he’d be at a party like this.

rafe had dragged you here, and briskly disappeared into the night as business called to him, surrounded at a coffee table by rich folks with the urge to vacuum powder up their noses. rafe needed the money, even having complained about this ‘barry’ character on the way to the party — hence why he was just so eager to ditch you to make some. you clutch your arms in the corner, feeling simultaneously cold and boiling hot. you don’t remember what you’ve ingested, if anything at all — maybe you just took a red solo cup of alcohol to the head too many — but you were certainly feeling it, whatever it was.

your vision of jj prying a drunk girl who had thrown herself towards him off his torso with a wince, distorts suddenly to the blonde squatting right infront of you, and you blink a few times before you realise you’re not just watching him through a lens, and that he was infact looking right back at you.

“jayj, what are you doin’ here?” you smile, eyes soft and full of fondness — that’s how you feel anyway, to him you look totally out of it as you shiver in an abandoned corner.

“i’m uh— i’m here for you cupcake. texted me, remember?” his eyes dart up and down you, trying to suss out what sort of state you were in. your glossy pout presses together in a blissed out smile and you shake your head slowly, displaying zero recollection. “alright well, i’m gettin’ your lil ass out of here.”

you’re walking suddenly, no — not quite, being guided with a firm hand on your waist. jj is driving you through crowds of people, his voice is clear, the blonde in the cap confidently barking out commands to make way.

“kook princess comin’ through. valuable cargo. beep beep, thank you.”

his familiar goofiness sends you into a spell of giggles as you arrived on the lawn, jj allowing you to drop to sit on the step on the quiet porch. he’s wearing a zip up hoodie, but it quickly ends up around your shoulders as you sniffle happily at the night sky, turning your cheek to gaze your hazy eyes into his own.

“you look after me, jayj.” you observe obviously and he blinks, shrugging a shoulder and shuffling on his ass as he gets situated beside you.

“think i’m just gonna leave a lady in distress when she texts me to come get her? hell nah. kie told me that’s like, fuckin’… bad karma or whatever.” he chats, looking you over once more as he watches your body rise and fall with slow breaths. “what’d you take?”

“dont remember. jus’ remember rafe leavin’.” you hum, detached.

“babe, he’s — he is a total asshole. why the hell do you hang with him? enlighten me. i’m beggin’ for some clarity here.”

you turn and look at him again, really look at him this time like it’s the first time you’re seeing him. your voice is detached and yet totally present at the same time, the harrowing realisation of your evening weighing down on you.

“i… dont know, jj.” after a pause he breaks the silence, not wanting to throw you into a bad mindset— he was everyone’s favourite trip-sitter after all.

“s’alright, sunshine. you were lead astray tonight. it happens. lucky for you, your ol’ pal jj is here to save the day.” he chuckles uneasily, craning his neck round to look back at the house party in motion. where could he find a bottle of water to feed you?

“you’re more than a pal, jj.” you sigh and his head snaps towards you.

“y— say uh— say that again, sugar?” he frowns, needing to be sure he heard that correctly. in an instant, you’re distracted by a stain on your skirt and you tsk, tugging at the material.

“ohh, what happened?” you whine, rubbing at the muddy splatter on your clothes. he’ll pocket that comment for another time.

✧˖°.🩷✧˖°.

[mirrors-are-green]

How to make Tim & Damian friends? Through animals. Obviously. Also Damian should've gotten a horse waaaaay before there was a cow. He's a 10 year old aristocratic child. Which likes animals. OF. COURSE. HE. IS. GETTING. A. HORSE.

Damian is a horse girl. No, I will not elaborate.

(It's a sport. Dignified. With animals. Which you get to train. Actually the better you train them, the more successful you are. OF COURSE he would be into it. Come on.)

(horse riding training in Mongolia was actually used as a reward/present for him from Thalia. Still training. Technically. But you all know how it went.)

(bonus points if he gets to bond with a stable man)

What if Tim got a horse from his parents for a late random-rich-folks present? Like a car, but he was too young so... He names her Queenie Buttercup.

What would Tim do with a horse? Well, he researches. Alright. His parents bought him a place in the best stable in the city, but it's so obviously corrupt. Also incompetent. Tim' s gotta take care of that. Obviously. Also some horses are horribly mistreated by their owners. Or sold to the slaughterhouse. He manipulates, blackmails, bribes these people off. And.... he somehow ended up with a full stable some day, without even realizing it or planning it one bit???.

Also he lets all the poor kids in (he hired some people to supervise dw) to the horsies. Obviously. They help around. Get to ride? There is one pair of twins from Crime Alley (most of the kids are from there...) taking care of this one old horse in particular. They're making him the most beautiful looking food, braid his mane, decorate him with frills...

There is a quiet red haired boy, with black eyeliner, heavily tattooed. He always helps the younger kids and is the best at shushing any spooked horse.

There is a great competition who can decorate their saddle the prettiest. Some adults even try to cheat...

There's also one reeeealy ambitious kid. He wants to compete for real. He showed up, determined, fists balled up, at Tim's front door one day. He said that he discovered some of Janet & Jack artifacts were in fact very convincing fakes like this one tile, from example. Supposedly from Hadrian's grave. But it was identified on the basis of three papers, all of which cite in a critical junction a paper which, under closer examination, is clearly just pretending to answer the question of the origin, in fact it was written with the specific person in mind from the very beginning, isn't it strange that....... etc etc. But he won't tell anybody, no siree. He'll spare Tims' family the embarrassment. But only if he gets to ride Queenie Buttercup. And if he's good, get the chance to compete.

(He has a mother who supports him very much. And a stepfather who loves him. And two no no-nonsense older sisters (one is veterinarian, Tim hires her immediately. Pays her VERY handsomely. She always sees through his bullshit and doesn't care about his money or power or status, her brother and animals come first. Damian is Very Impressed and demands to be made aware every time she does something so he can watch or even assist.) who do whatever they can to help him realize his dream. Actually his whole block loves him. When he competes the whole Crime Alley keeps their fingers crossed for him to win. He gets a big celebration when he comes home after winning his first big trophy.)

There's also a girl from Tim's class really into horses. She's overly formal and does karate in her free time. Tim never noticed her before, but now they're besties. They trade statistics and have regular fights about what's the most likely breed to do XYZ.

Damian of course wants the piece of that fairytale dream stable as soon as he finds out (so maybe the stables are not on the manor grounds idk). Also after realizing how many animals Tim has rescued he starts to respect him.

How he found out?

Tim obviously doesn't advertise that he's got a whole stable and is literally changing lives of a bunch of kids. No one cares about his stuff, obviously. He would bore them to tears when talking about it, just like with any other of his hobbies. Also it's normal and totally what anyone would do. Besides, doesn't every upper class family have stables? It's, like, a requirement when you're filthy rich. Like having a yacht.

Also that could make Tim, who always wants to do everything by himself, the most experienced in terms of normal farm adjacent/ manual labor. Like, the Bats are city boys through and through. Jason maybe did idk some construction work when he needed money, but he wouldn't get the chance to actually muck about with horse manure probably ever. So it would be HILARIOUS. He could casually bring it up? His casual knowledge of this kind of work. Everyone would think it was a joke and something he researched, so in poor taste even to pretend to actually have experience with this hardship and act all knowledgeable. Jason would scoff at the silver spoon Tim has been fed with since birth, so what can he possibly know. And he just goes...

"Oh yeah, I run a stable actually. Yes I do the clean ups with everyone. Obviously. So that's why I know about that. Anyway so what are we watching?" And they're just SHOCKED.

Or alternatively

Tim is of course the owner of like, 6 cats. Actually there was just one stable cat at the beginning but she had kittens so... yeah it's 6 now. Yeah we take care of them. They're cute. And he just casually brings it up to Damian?

Tim: "I totally get making so many pictures of your pet. I have, like, five thousand pictures of my cats. I sometimes stalk them, even. To get better shots. And they look so adorable in each of them!"

Damian: "You. Have cats. As in. Multiple."

Tim: "Oh I've never told you, sorry, completely forgot haha. Do you wanna see the pi- *grabs his phone*?

Damian: "That. Was. The. Stupidest. Question. I've. Ever. Heard. OF COURSE I WANT TO SEE. SHOW ME NOW OR PERISH.

Damian, some time later: And just as I was looking at Ismat Hasna...

Tim: Woohoo stop. I don't know what you're talking about. None of my horses are named like that?

Damian, completely seriously: Well obviously. If she was originally named like that, it would mean you have some common sense and I wouldn't have to rename her. But, alas. You named the most majestic horse on this plane of existence QUEENIE. BUTTERCUP. So. She needed an intervention from someone more sensible than you. Obviously.

Tim:

Damian: You're welcome, by the way. I already corrected her paperwork.

And they just bond and start being friendly towards each other and Dick is soooo proud, Bruce has no idea what/how (he suspects blackmail or witchcraft), Jason and Tim team up to support Crime Alley kiddos in pursuit of their hobbies. Jason got literal tears in his eyes when he saw, in real time, some harmless contact with animals and getting a chance to take care of something slowly, slowly breaks the circle of violence these kids were stuck in.

His next charity project is some martial arts centre, an indoor basketball court, paying some good trainers to just believe in those kids. It works wonders.

Idk just some thoughts I would be very glad if someone made it into a proper story or even help me develop the concept fuller... just tag me!!

[copperbadge]

More on mindfulness and meditation

I feel like perhaps I came across as anti-meditation in that last post I did on it, and there were some folks who were a bit vocal about not liking meditation in the notes, but the notes also had some great and interesting discussion of what can count as mindfulness that isn't traditional meditation and what some alternatives might be, so I wanted to do a follow-up. Especially since I don't think I'm going to get to respond to everyone individually.

The post was not meant to be anti-meditation, but to express frustration with the way meditation frequently is, or rather fails to be, taught. I can understand why people would struggle with "mindfulness" (vastly overused term) and meditation, so I'm not here to argue with or shame anyone, and I really appreciate the alternative suggestions. But because mindfulness can mean so many things, and people can meditate for many different reasons, I wanted to talk a little about why I'm being asked to do it.

It's easy to lose track of why one might try meditation for mental health, because the cause and effect are so temporally dislocated from each other. I try to keep in mind that my specific goal is emotional regulation deriving from increased present-moment attention. Some of the stuff that was suggested is great for a goal other than this, like puzzle games that allow people to empty their racing minds or activity that brings someone back into their body when dissociating -- both extremely laudable functions! -- but that's not why I'm here. Meditation is meant, for me, to be a maintenance medication, not a rescue inhaler.

There is science that suggest that mindfulness practice, under a specific definition of the term, can help to manage emotional dysregulation, ameliorate Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria, and reduce depression and anxiety. I discuss the science in a slideshow here but essentially this specific form trains the attention into the present moment, which improves executive function -- and as we know, emotional regulation is a facet of executive function, so this leads to better emotional regulation.

There is not a lot of science on it yet so there is room here for yoursamplesizeissmall.jpg, but it's all we've got so I'm running with it. There is one foundational practice and three practices that build on it which effected this change in subjects of the study:

Breathing Meditation doesn't really confer any benefit the others don't, but the others all employ it as a basic practice. We know this can calm the parasympathetic nervous system, although to be honest I have not found that to be the case personally. As soon as I stop the deep breathing I'm right back where I was, likely because my issue is ruminational, not situational. But everything else wants you to breathe first, so I still have to do it.

Body Scan focuses attention on the body and as others have pointed out is good for people prone to dissociation. As I said in the other post, I live here; paying extra attention to my body isn't something I need. I was asked to try it anyway as part of a practice in keeping an open mind about stuff I think is dumb, and clearly I do need practice in that. Still, it's likely I'll be able to let this one go pretty soon.

Loving-Kindness asks you to think positively about others, expanding compassion from a single point outward to the world. I've encountered this before in reading Pema Chodron; I don't do it as meditation, but I do try to practice it in life because I am not naturally a patient or compassionate person, and that has been helpful in the sense that it keeps me from getting punched in the face a bunch. For me there's no real "train the attention to be in the present" aspect on account of that, however.

Observing-Thought is where you just sit with your thoughts, let them arise, sometimes label them in some way, and let them go. I was most interested in this purely because it's the only one I hadn't already encountered. I haven't found it useful so far, but I don't have enough data about it to be definitive, and if it is training executive function I would expect that to take time.

Now, I know that all four of these have science backing them, so I know that we're not just dealing in new-age woo here. The problem is functional, not theoretical. The issue overall is not "meditation is boring" -> "find a way to make it interesting", although I do appreciate that it may be an issue for others and I like that people were offering solutions. The issue for me is that the boredom derives from the fact that the meditation isn't being taught. There's no progressional learning -- there's no step-progress-reward-step-progress-reward like with most difficult skills.

Any task is boring if you aren't deriving any reward from it or you are being expected to execute it without skills or training, and in this case I'm facing down both. Long silences from a meditation leader are fine if you're there to engage with a practice you already have familiarity with, but if you're trying to learn, they are the opposite of helpful, and they are actively punishing to someone with ADHD.

I don't want to be entertained (I mean, generally I do, but in this case I don't expect it). What I want is a pedagogical approach that steps up to the practice rather than beginning with it, so that I know I'm doing it right, I experience rewards along the way similar to how I currently do learning Italian, and I have more confidence that what seems dull and fruitless actually will produce results.

Uh, so yeah thanks for coming to my TEDtalk; the fact that a practice that's especially hard for people with ADHD helps with almost every problem ADHD presents really sucks, and I wish we approached teaching meditation as if it were something you actually did have to learn rather than something you're supposed to Do Until You Get It. In the meantime I guess bumping the speed on the recording isn't the worst thing I could be doing.

[just-jordie-things]

[part three] trouble - takuma ino

word count: 7k warnings: swearing, canon typical violence mentioned, shibuya arc mentions summary: just when she thinks she's got her feelings all sorted out, the shibuya incident has to go and fuck it all up. contents: friends to lovers, gojo!reader, your favorite sappy scene where a finds b injured and loses their mind <3 we skimmed over key points in the arc bc i just couldn't do it folks

part three: "god, don't let me lose my mind" ___

As it turns out, the deeper something is buried the scarier it is when it comes back up, and it was a terrifying sight to have every hidden ounce of her affections thrown back at her face- or more accurately, shoved up her throat.

The Shibuya Incident changed everything.

She’d assumed she’d follow Nanami and his small team that consisted of a first year, Fushiguro Megumi, and then of course Ino.  However, when she arrived on the scene, Ijichi had instructed that she was to find Zen’in Naobito and the students under his supervision, Kugisaki Nobara and Maki.

“I don’t understand,” She shook her head at the manager beckoned for him to show her the electronic paperwork with the order.  “Nanami’s mentoring me for Grade One, why would I be sent away?” 

Ijici anxiously glanced between her and the team of three who also seemed confused by the sudden change in development.

“I- I’m so sorry, Gojo-san,” He stammered.  He never did like making people upset with the orders handed to him, most days he was merely a messenger, however when it came to the Gojos specifically, this was his worst nightmare.  “Here, it’s all here, I- I don’t know why they’d separate you, perhaps more foot traffic? Uh, the station is quite overpopulated and there’s, um, only a few people scouting the perimeter” 

As he holds out his device she swipes it up gingerly, eyes scanning through the order from the higher ups with great speed.  Ijichi gulped down the lump in his throat, praying she wouldn’t break the phone with her iron group.

“It’s alright, (y/n),” Nanami came to the manager’s rescue.  “We’ll be fine, the three of us.  You should go with them” 

She passed the phone back to Ijichi with a small nod of gratitude for his help, and he was quick to disappear, likely off to report back to Nitta.

“They’ve still got me,” Ino grinned from ear to ear, before throwing his arm up against Megumi’s shoulder.  The boy gave him a bored look before shrugging him off.

(y/n) gives him a look that tells him her concern didn’t lie in their ability to handle the situation in the slightest.  The greatest concern right now was that everyone’s cell phones were out of service due to the veil over the area, which effectively cut off all communication between the divided teams.  The idea of splitting off from the two of them- and Megumi- unsettled her.  

Since she’d arrived on the scene shortly after her brother, there had been a twist of unease in her gut.  Like something was terribly wrong.  Or something terrible was bound to happen.

“Unless you’re saying you can’t handle it!” Ino tries to lighten the tension currently laying itself on thick the longer she stands before them, waiting for something that wouldn’t come.

If Nanami told her to go with them, she would.

Ino steps forward as Nanami turns to go over their orders with Megumi again, giving his pupils some semblance of privacy in the hopes of convincing (y/n) to follow the order handed to her.  If she went against what was asked of her, he wouldn’t be able to cover for her if any casualties- property damage or lives- occurred.

If either one of them asked her to stay with them, she would.

She doesn’t react to Ino’s statement, which sends up warning flags in his head, knowing that usually she’d quip back something snarky about how she could handle this entire assignment by herself and blindfolded.

“This isn’t normal,” She tells him quietly once he’s close enough and she thinks Megumi won’t be able to eavesdrop.  She doesn’t want to alarm him, but this gut feeling of hers was starting to eat her up.  “They’ve never split us like this before.  Something isn’t right” 

Ino believes her, already having his suspicions that something was off when he’d arrived with Nanami, but even if he didn’t trust her judgment, he could see the apprehension clearly in her eyes, and that was reason enough for him to understand.

“I know,” He agrees quietly, glancing over his shoulder quickly to make sure Megumi and Nanami were still occupied.  “But it’ll be fine, right?” He tells her hopefully, but the expression on her face doesn’t budge.  She stares at him expectantly, silently begging him to say what she needed him to in order for her to stay.  “We can handle it.  It’ll probably only be a few hours anyways” Instead, he continues to try and talk her down from her worried ledge, unknowingly only pushing her further onto it.

Her jaw clenches as she bites down on her own teeth in order to keep herself from blowing up and saying something reckless.

She lets out a sigh to calm herself down before speaking.

“A lot can happen in a few hours” 

Her eyes shift between his in a rapid movement, trying to convey everything in silence that she couldn’t say out loud.  She’s not sure if it works, but for a brief moment, a flash of disturbance flickers over Ino’s face, like maybe in that second he was able to understand what she wasn’t saying.  Just as quickly as she’d caught it, it was disappearing, and he was smiling again.

“Like two Grade One promotions, yeah?” He asks, holding his hand out to her.

That cracks the smallest of smiles out of her, easing her nerves for just a minute as she realized tonight could be the last thing she needed before finally getting her promotion.  So she takes his hand and shakes it roughly with her enthusiasm.  Ino chuckles to himself, about to pull away with his parting words of wishing her luck, but her fingers tighten around the curve of his hand and she doesn’t let him part from her just yet.

He’s confused when she stares up at him with a grave realness in her eyes, mixing with some other emotion he’s not sure he’s ever seen in them before.  His features soften with his surprise, but before he could ask her what’s keeping her, she’s whispering a threat under her breath.

“Don’t do anything stupid” 

It’s cold and harsh, just like how she used to treat him before shared assignments.  But Ino knows better now.  He understands the look of pure fear in her eyes as she mutters out the words like poison.  And despite the way she’s almost frowning at him, he smiles brightly as he squeezes her hand back with the same fervor.

“I know,” He says, almost cheekily.  She wants to be annoyed.  Maybe even shake him by the collar and tell him she’ll kill him if anything happens to him.  But she can only stand and stare at him with a slight gape of her mouth.  “I promised,” He shrugs one of his shoulders like his words alone were enough to shield him from harm.  “Can’t go back on my word” 

And then their grip on each other is loosening, before their hands fall away altogether, and (y/n) has to swallow the lump in her throat before addressing Nanami and Megumi.

“Report back when you can, okay?” She asks, her weapon of choice already materializing in her hand.

“We’ll see you soon,” Nanami nods his head in acknowledgement.  “Don’t let that old man boss you around.  You can run circles around him” He adds with a hint of a smile on his face.

She nods back at him, already starting to grin from the adrenaline of rushing off into an unknown battle. Her eyes catch Ino’s once more, and he throws up a peace sign with his fingers, tapping his forehead with them to give her half a salute.

“See you soon, partner”  ___

The gut feeling had subsided while she worked side by side with Maki and Nobara, paying as little attention to the head of the Zen’in Clan as she could.  For a little while, she almost considered taking a path of teaching as she aided the girls in their attacks, although they barely needed assistance, they were more than capable of defending themselves.

But it wasn’t long before they were split up, and (y/n) took the first opportunity she could to get back to her group.  It was hard to tell how much time had passed, and she tried not to worry about it as she followed Nobara and Nitta to where they presumed Nanami was.  Still, her heart was pounding against her ribcage with every step she took into the station.

It wasn’t professional of her, but when she found Nanami and Itadori Yuuji, her heart leapt to her throat and was speaking for her without hesitation.

“Where’s Ino?” 

Itadori was excitedly asking his mentor if the woman standing before them now was his sensei’s sister, even going so far as to tug on the man’s sleeve and beg him to introduce him properly.  On another day (y/n) might have been a little flattered, but right now she nearly tunes it out completely as she awaits Nanami’s answer.

“Ran into some curse users that came crawling out of the woodwork… listen, (y/n)-” 

“Where is that?” She cuts him off before he could explain further, and it’s obvious the way her entire body tenses with her impatience.

Nanami frowns, not knowing how to approach the situation calmly, but there was no time to sit down and slowly walk her through it.

“Satoru has been sealed,” 

She blinks, the words barely processing at all.  Maybe because it wasn’t what she was expecting, or maybe because they didn’t make a lick of sense.  Either way, she stands frozen and rigid before them all, not speaking a word.

“The patchwork curse is operating with something far worse that we weren’t expecting.  They had access to the prison realm.  Your brother is currently inside of it.  We have reason to believe that Kenjaku is playing a role and-” 

“It’s Suguru, isn’t it?” 

His name burns in her throat as if it was cursed so heavily just speaking it sent a poison down through her bloodstream.

Nanami’s lack of an answer tells her more than she needs to know.  The information tries to take over her mind, tries to nestle itself in as a proper distraction from what her next steps were going to be.

She casts it aside completely.

“My brother is stronger than the prison realm,” 

Her voice is strong, and certain.  Even with the small group looking at her apprehensively, (y/n’s) positive that there’s no prison on this earth stronger than Gojo Satoru.  Her faith in him as a sorcerer, and as her brother, went unmatched.  He would only be offended if she worried about him right now.  Using Geto Suguru was a filthy trick, however, and he- his body- would have to be dealt with accordingly.

But right now, there was a more pressing stressor she needed answers for.

“Now tell me where Ino is”  ___

When she arrived on the rooftop Nanami had directed her towards, her first thought was that she had the wrong one.  Her chest is heaving by the time she’s bursting through the access door, the plank of wood nearly flying off it’s hinges from her force.

She hesitates for a moment, seeing there wasn’t a fight of any sorts taking place.  Nanami had said there were two curse users, and at first survey, the roof is completely empty.

Save for the slumped over figure left crumpled on the ground, barely propping themselves up with one arm against a box vent.  She almost doesn’t catch him there, her instinct telling her it couldn’t possibly have been Ino himself.  No, it had to have been someone else-

But then her eyes catch the small but distinct shape of a black mask on the ground not far from him, and she’s darting forward with a screech of pure terror.

“Ino!?” 

His name rips from her throat so harshly a neighboring crow squawks and flies away from the startling noise.

It doesn’t take many steps to bring her towards his beaten form, but she’s sprinting the short distance anyways, dropping to her knees without any grace, scraping them up on the concrete upon impact, but the sting goes unnoticed.

She’s panting harder, the wind getting knocked out of her a second time when she properly takes in his face.  It’s so covered in blood she can’t even make out where it’s coming from.  As her hands slide under his jaw to lift his head, praying to any deity that will listen that it isn’t his head that’s injured, she realizes then that her eyes are filling with tears and blurring her vision.

“I- Ino,” And her voice is strained too, coming out in a choked whimper, not nearly loud enough for him to hear her if he’s unconscious.  “God, no no no-  fuck- fuck!” 

Her mumbles turn into shouts as she drops one hand from his face to pat against his chest.  She doesn’t want to be rough with him, but if he doesn’t give her some sign of life soon she was going to smack the back of her hand against his face to spur something out of him.

If she lost him now, like this, then every curse and curse user in this damn city was going to pay the gruesome, ultimate price.

He stirs with the slightest of movements, a small groan coming from his chest which she feels against her hand more than she actually hears.  A gasp of surprise comes out of her, before she’s pressing closer to him, her palm flat against his front, and her other hand secure in holding his head up towards her.

“You can hear me?” She mumbles with more hope than what feels right.

“Uh-huh” 

It’s pitifully quiet, but it’s a distinct answer, and it evokes a sob out of her so emotionally relieving she drops her head, barely hitting his shoulder as tears of every stage of grief pour out of her.  Fear.  Relief.  It all hits her at once.

Ino can barely register the fact that she’s sitting before him now, pressed as close as she could get with her sobs soaking into his shoulder.  But he musters all the strength he can to assure her he was still alive.

“(y/n),” Another pained mutter has her lifting her head, roughly wiping at her face with the back of her hand before leaning in close to hear him.  “The curse users- th-ey h-had-”

When he starts to cough up blood between his words, she hushes him, both hands gently held under his jaw again.  He hisses slightly from the touch, but doesn’t pull away from it.

She’s mumbling something, but his head is pounding too hard to make out what, and his vision is too blurry to try and read her lips.  With the smallest tip of his head, he’s leaning back into the box vent with a shaky exhale.

Even with his eyes closed, the faint blue glow penetrates his eyelids, and he’s trying to gather all the strength he can to lift his head and look at her again.  Although he has a sneaking suspicion of what she’s doing.

The blue light brightens, and he can just barely hear her faint mumbling, whispers sounding suspiciously like begs and pleas, before something warm and solid touches his forehead.

It takes him a minute, but eventually, he’s able to crack one eye open just enough to see what’s happening.

Her hands, still held against his jaw with trembling fingers, are glowing with cursed energy.  The warmth against his forehead was that of her own, pressed close and having her so much closer that the tip of her nose ghosts over his.  Her eyes are squeezed shut tightly, but there’s simply too many tears to be held back, and they fall down her face in steady streams, slipping into the corners of her mouth as she continues to slur through mumbles.

“Just this once… work just this once… never ask for anything again… never need anything more… concentrate… concentrate….” Ino can just barely make out the nonsensical string of pleas tumbling out of her lips, but it’s more than he understood before.  “...has to work… have to help him… think… think… relax…” 

Hearing the pain in her voice makes something in his chest lurch more than when an overpowered foot nearly cracked open his ribcage just moments ago- or was it hours? He longed to bring her some semblance of comfort, but he was too tired to move his arms, and when he tried to say something, his throat was too dry to make any sound.

The most he’s capable of, is the slight tilt in his head, pressing the crown of his head back against hers with the smallest amount of force.

It does the trick, (y/n’s) mumbling halting with a quiet gasp, her eyes fluttering open and staring wide at him, tracking any miniscule movement of his features.

He’s struggling even to keep one eye cracked open, the bruising surrounding it stinging that much more just from opening it, but he wants so badly to give her some comfort of his well-being.  Even if the next breath he takes is his last.

“Ino,” She whispers, her voice heavy with emotion.  “You’re gonna be alright, I’m- I’m gonna-” 

Before she can finish, there’s a short shift in his neck, barely shaking his head against hers.  She swallows thickly, trying to keep down the lump in her throat.

“I am, I’m gonna make it better, I’m- I’m-” 

“s’Okay,” He rasps out.  “Go, (y/n)” 

“No!” She’s louder than she means to be, and she apologizes by pushing a loose strand of his hair out of the sticky blood on his forehead, soothingly pushing her fingers through the length of his hair to keep it from irritating his face again.  She repeats the motion a few more times anxiously, and her head begins to shake against his.  “No- no.  I’m not leaving, I’m not going anywhere” 

He could almost laugh, recalling being in opposite positions almost a year ago.  If he had the strength, he’d remind her that she’d begged the same thing of him once, ordering him to leave as if she had any sort of authority over him.

Now Ino feared she had too much authority.  He couldn’t bear to have her here if the beat of his heart kept steadily declining.

A faint sound that almost resembled a chuckle is pushed past his lips in a short breath, warm and soft as the air hits her chin.

(y/n’s) brows furrow with her confusion as she continues to push her fingers through the length of his hair.  From the top of his head to the ends at the nape of his neck, she repeats it over and over, almost obsessively.  She distantly recalls Satoru doing the same for her when she was younger and would have panic attacks, and it was the first thing that would calm her down.  Pathetically, she hopes it’s healing power also works for physical wounds.

“s’Okay, (y/n),” Ino repeats himself, his head suddenly feeling too heavy to hold up on his own.  He barely feels his nose pressing against hers before a gentle pair of hands pull him forward, guiding him to lean against something solid, and soft.  His eyes were shut again as he gave into the white hot pain from every second he tried to keep them open.

Her shoulder, she’s cradling his head against his shoulder, it registers in the back of his mind as he recognizes the scent of her perfume in the fabric he was laying against, and ruining with his blood.

“m’Sorry ‘bout breaking th’ promise” He slurs into the material.

“Don’t say that,” (y/n) scolds, but her voice is weak, and she sounds far more afraid than she does angry.  “Please- please don’t say that,” She repeats in an even quieter, shakier voice.

With one hand against the nape of his neck, holding him solidly against her as his body hunches forward uncomfortably, her other hand begins to move in his hair again.

“We had a deal, didn’t we?” Her words were whispered in his ear, so she was certain he couldn’t miss a single thing.  “We promised, didn’t we?” She asked again.  “And I- I made good on my promise, didn’t I? Didn’t I do everything you asked?” Her tears are soaking into his hair now, but she doesn’t feel an ounce of shame as she begs him to find the strength to snap out of it and wake up properly.  “I let- I let myself let you in, I really, really did,” 

Her eyes fall shut in a pitiful attempt at willing her tears to stop.  She doesn’t want to burden him with her fear of losing him, but the emotions crashing over her were too strong for her to take on alone.  Unbeknownst to her, her hands were surrounded by her cursed energy again as they kept him close.

“And now- now you’re too close to me, Ino.  And I can’t- I- I can’t-” She chokes on the words, burying her face into the crook of his neck, earning a small grunt of pained acknowledgement when her nose brushes a particularly nasty bruise.  “I can’t lose you, you said I wouldn’t lose you” 

The hand at his nape grabs the material of the back of his uniform, fisting it so tight her knuckles trembled and ached.

The relief suddenly washing over Ino’s body was so strong that all of his muscles were relaxing at once, and he felt boneless in her hold.

(y/n) was quick to snap her eyes open and pull herself away from him, shaky, fast hands racing to check his pulse as her worst nightmare played before her eyes.

But he wasn’t lifeless in her arms, and if anything, he was relaxed.  His pulse was a steady beat against the pads of her fingers, and he even found enough strength to raise his hand to her cheek.  She watched with wide, shocked eyes as he barely grazed his fingers across her jaw before he was passing out in her arms.

___

When he comes to, his eyes blink a few times to prepare himself for light, but to his surprise, he’s met with darkness.  It still takes a few rough squeezes of his eyelids before Ino’s able to properly open his eyes all the way, and the darkness he was greeted with was properly laid before him as the night sky.

He was outside?

“What the-?” The mutter comes from under his breath, but before he could make sense of his surroundings, someone was scrambling to his side, his name falling from their recognizable, pretty voice like a mantra.

And (y/n’s) voice in that moment was heavenly to his ears.  He wasn’t sure how long he was out, and his mind was foggy when he tried to recall when he’d seen her last, but he had a sinking feeling like it had been a long time, and all he knew now was that he felt pure relief when her face came into view beside him.  Then shortly after, a small hand slipped into his own, squeezing firmly, but not too tight.

“(y/n),” His throat burns hot when he speaks, but he tries to ignore it as he gives her a weak smile.  Everything aches, but he’d try his best to keep his pain hidden.  “How long was I out?” 

“About a day” She murmurs back, softer than he thinks he’s ever heard her speak.  He thinks she’s hiding something, but he doesn’t press for it right away.  He’d need to get his bearings first.

He tries to look around, hoping for something of significance to give him an idea of where he was, but all that surrounds them is a few plots of grass and some shoddy tents pitched up.  There’s a fire burning a few feet behind where she kneels beside him, and his brows furrowed slightly.  What the hell was going on?

“And where are we?” 

Her free hand reaches for his face, and he holds his breath when the tips of her fingers gently push a piece of hair away from a line of stitches just above his previous scar.  There’s a small frown on her face.

“Just outside Yamanashi,” She answers, then quickly adds, “At least I think.  It’s hard to tell without a proper map” 

Ino’s eyes widen so much they almost bulge out of his head, and (y/n’s) quick to react to his shock.

“Don’t freak out,” She murmurs, squeezing his hand gently as she leaned over closer to him.  “You still need to rest, you have a lot of healing to-” 

“(y/n),” He interrupts her, and surprisingly she lets him.  She sits before him patiently waiting for the question she’d been dreading for an entire day.  “What happened in Shibuya?” 

She sits beside him for a long time as she explains the entire incident in grave detail.  Not a single stone left unturned, Ino sits in silence for almost a full hour as she feeds it to him like it was her drafted report on the assignment.

She explains that after she fled Shibuya with his unconscious body, they quickly ran into Megumi Yuuji, and the new ally they’d made out of one of the Cursed Wombs’.  Yuuji was quick to carry Ino on his back as they tried to cover as much ground as possible.  With Shibuya becoming a modern-day wasteland, and Kenjaku’s next move unsure, their only goal was to move.  

And that’s what brought them here, to the middle of nowhere where they could figure out what their next move was.  With only a few survival supplies and limited rations of food and water, it hadn’t been an easy day and a half.

When she’s finished, she remains silent for as long as he needs.  Processing it all- Nanami, Satoru, the first year Nobara, all of Shibuya- would surely take him some time.  (y/n) gets up and pokes at the fire for a few minutes while Ino sits in shock as he repeats it all in his head.  When she comes back over to him, he’s pushed himself to sit up on top of the nylon blanket against the grass.

“You should really lie down and-” 

“I’m alright” He mumbles over her concern, and she simply sits beside him on the wrinkly plastic disguised as a blanket.  She doesn’t push him about it again.

Not knowing what to say, she doesn’t say anything.  Just sits beside him to keep him company while he processes it all.  Truthfully, she’d had little time to really let it all settle in.  With the running and worrying over the length of his unconscious state, there was little time left to think about the aftermath of the whole incident.  She wondered how the others were taking it, if they’d stopped and let themselves think for longer than a minute.  They’d all resigned to their makeshift tents for the night, and she didn’t have it in her to play caretaker and check on them at the moment.  That was always the role Satoru took on.  But tomorrow she’d sit down with them and check in.

“You found me,” 

Ino speaks after a long silence, and (y/n) glances over at him for a brief moment, before returning to stare at the ground.

“After those curse users, after Toji,” He continues, piecing together the vague images in his memory to better understand what happened.  “You found me after that” 

He’s not asking, he’s talking through what he remembers, but (y/n) nods in confirmation.

“Nanami told me where you were,” She says softly.  “I came as fast as I could, but… it wasn’t fast enough” The last part comes out under her breath, full of regret and guilt.

“Seems like you were just in time to me,” Ino says, turning to look at her.  She refuses to meet his gaze, too ashamed by her delayed arrival.  “For a minute there I didn’t think I’d see you again.  Thought I was a goner.  You’d be adding my name to the…” He trails off, not quite wanting to address the long list of lives lost in Shibuya.

And he notices she tenses up, one of her hands fisting a handful of grass, ripping a few strands straight from the dirt with her tight grip.  Ino frowns, and shuffles over to sit closer to her.  Until they’re nearly shoulder to shoulder.  He groans as he pulls his legs up, resting his arms over his knees to get more comfortable.  Everything feels stiff, but he tries to push past it.

“You figured out the Reverse Cursed Technique, hm?” He asks, trying to change the subject.  He gives her a small smile at the accomplishment, but she’s still not looking at him.  “That’s pretty huge.  You’re surely a functioning Grade One sorcerer now” 

That’s when she finally turns her head to meet his gaze, finding nothing but fondness in his eyes as he smiles at her.  He’s proud of her, she realizes, and she can’t believe that now of all times he’s trying to comfort her.  Takuma Ino was too good for this world.  And he was certainly too good for her.

“I don’t care” She mumbles, shaking her head back and forth as her eyes flicker over the healing cuts and bruises on his face.  The few stitches he needed looked a bit gnarly as they’d been done in a rush from shaky hands.  A frown tugs on her lips the longer she takes in his injuries.

“You should,” He tells her.  “You worked for a long time for it.  And you’ve earned it,” 

She’s quiet for a moment as she takes in the statement.  The injuries she’d sustained had healed by now, but her chest still hurt somehow.

Slowly, more and more of his memory comes back to him.  He can remember the way she’d sobbed, pained wails that came from so deep within her he could hear it now in his memory.  They could’ve easily been mistaken as the screams of a woman tortured, the way she’d cried out his name.  He thinks he can recall her crying the entire time she tended to him.

“I’m sorry I scared you” He tells her suddenly, and her eyes widen in the slightest at the apology.

“Scared me,” She repeats in a small mumble, lips barely moving.  “That doesn’t even begin to explain what you put me through,” 

He frowns with his guilt, and he wants to remind her that he’d told her to leave.  Although if she had, he might not have woken up again.

“You…” She trails off as she thinks twice about what she’s going to say.  “You have no idea what you put me through,” She admits in a smaller voice.  

Her eyes flicker between his as she watches him process the confession, before she continues.

“I don’t know what I… I don’t know how I did it, honestly.  I’m not sure I could do it again,” She explains.  “I just remember feeling so… hurt doesn’t even begin to explain it.  I was terrified, Ino.  I thought you were…” She shakes her head, a lump forming in her throat at the mere suggestion of what could have happened to him.  “I was so scared” She mumbles weakly, her brows drawing together.

Hesitantly, Ino lowered his hand until it rested over hers.  She loosened her grip on the grass, relaxing just the slightest amount from his touch.  Her heart was still racing as she recalled the way he’d barely been able to move, or how he’d tried to apologize for breaking his promise to her.  It was like there was an invisible, but iron grip on her throat, squeezing all of the air out of her lungs as she looked at him now.

“You’re my hero now, you know,” He murmurs, tilting his head a bit as a tiny smile stretches over his lips.  “You saved my life” 

Her hand twitches under his, and it shakes as she releases the grass in order to turn it over, slotting her fingers between his.  She squeezes, hard, making sure that he would be enough to anchor her to reality.

“You saved mine, too” She whispers back, the burn in her throat evident in the strain in her voice.  Against her will, her eyes gloss over with tears.

He gives her a sad smile, and squeezes her hand back.

“Don’t cry,” He pleads quietly, his body angling towards her as he reaches his free hand out to her face, palm hovering just over her cheek as he wipes away her single tear with the rough pad of his thumb.  “Please,” He added softly as her eyes bore into his like she was trying to penetrate his skull and read his thoughts.  “Don’t think I can handle hearin’ you cry anymore” He admits.  

(y/n) let’s out a watery and humorless little chuckle, another tear falling to her cheek that he’s just as quick to dry away.  She leans into the hovering warmth of his hand, pressing her cheek against it with only the thought of being comforted by him on her mind.  Ino’s quick to spread his fingers across her cheek and jaw, unconsciously pulling her closer as he did.

“You remember that?” She mumbles, and he nods back at her.

“Don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget it,” He tells her.  “You scared me too, y’know” 

Her brows furrow at him.

“I did?” 

Ino nods.

“I didn’t like… being separated,” He admits slowly.  “I know you were fine, hell, you were better off than I was, but… not knowing where you were or if you were safe was…” He clenches his draw, and (y/n) nods at him in understanding.

“I would’ve stayed,” She murmurs.  “If you’d asked me to stay, I would’ve stayed” 

Ino’s not sure if his heart was going to burst in his chest or sink to his gut.  All he wants right now is to wrap her up in his arms as tight as he can and never let her out of his sight again.

“I know,” He whispers back, making her frown.  “But I couldn’t do that.  It wouldn’t have been right.  Your team needed you,” 

Another tear makes it’s way down her cheek, but it doesn’t get far before he’s brushing it away like the others.

“I didn’t want to do anything to stand in the way of your promotion,” He says, and she frowns back at him.  “It wouldn’t have been fair-” 

“That doesn’t matter to me, not right now- maybe not at all,” She cuts him off before he could explain himself, and he looks shocked.  Rightfully so, since meeting her he’s known that becoming a Grade One was the only thing that mattered to her.  His lips part and his brows furrow, but he doesn’t know what to say, so she explains herself first.  “Ino, I really thought I was going to lose you,” She tells him with a tight squeeze of his hand.  “That promotion has been the farthest thing from my mind.  What would it have mattered?” She shakes her head as she watches him, sniffling just a little before speaking again.  “It would have meant nothing, if you weren’t there with me, too,” 

Ino softened then, his thumb stalling from it’s gentle tracing of her cheekbone as he took in the sincerity of her words.

A year ago, she might’ve told him to eat shit if he’d something of the same sort to her.  Six months ago she would’ve laughed it off and deflected like it was some kind of joke.  Right now, he thinks his heart was going to fall right out of his chest and into her awaiting hands.

(y/n) shuffles anxiously the longer he sits in silence.

“Ino, say something” She mumbles, hoping he wouldn’t make her beg for some sort of reaction.

He chuckles, his thumb moving over her cheekbone once, then twice, before giving into temptation and curling his fingers around the back of her neck to pull her in closer.

Her eyes are shut before his lips slot themselves over hers, but despite leaning into the kiss there’s a small squeak of surprise that dies in the back of her throat when their lips touch.  She kisses him back with as much fervor as she can while still being mindful of his injuries.  She only hopes that he can feel the outpour of emotions with every kiss, the soft sensation of each one leaving a tingle on her lips.  

Her hands reach out to lay at the base of his neck, her touch nearly featherlight with how gentle she tries to treat him.  Ino’s less careful, pulling her closer until she finally gives in to deepening their kiss, paying no mind to the dull ache in his jaw.  It was easy to forget when her perfect soft lips fit against his like they were made to be kissed by him.

After pulling away for a breath of air, he places one more kiss on her lips, lingering for as long as he could before finally parting from her.  It takes her a minute to open her eyes, still reeling from the sudden affection.

With her heart in the clouds and her mind in a lovesick haze, she was still lost in the heavy feelings that were the way she felt about him.  Ino chuckles when his eyes open only to find her lost in a daze, sweetly cupping her face in both hands and keeping her as close to him as he could.

“Sorry,” He mumbles, lips ghosting over hers, sending a shiver down her spine.  She finally looks up at him, catching her lip between her teeth to keep herself from grinning too hard.  “I just wanted to do that for so long.  Couldn’t wait anymore” 

A breathless little laugh falls from her, her hands sliding around the nape of his neck so her fingers could mindlessly play with the soft locks of hair that fell there.  Her cheeks were undeniably warm, and Ino could feel them when she pushed closer to brush her nose against his sweetly.

“Wanted you to do that, too” She murmurs back, and the smile Ino gives her is bittersweet.

He sighs softly as he pulls her in gently, just enough to rest his forehead against hers.

“I’m sorry,” He murmurs, the weight of the apology hanging thick in the air.  

She doesn’t want to talk anymore about what’s happened, doesn’t really want to think about it either.  Going through it had been rough enough already, processing it was going to be a bitch.  She has to shut her eyes to hide the emotion, or at least, keep herself from crying again.

“I’m so sorry,” Ino repeats.  “And I’m sorry I was out for so long” 

“That’s nothing you should apologize over,” (y/n) chided through a breath.  “I’m just relieved you’re alright, that’s all that matters to me right now, okay?” 

He tilts his head away from hers, just enough to look back at her.  He frowns when her eyes are squeezed shut, thumbing gently at the top of her cheekbones to pry her into looking at him again.  It takes her a minute before opening teary eyes.  Even with her packing up the last day and a half into a box and forcing it into the darkest corner of her mind, she couldn’t hide all of it from Ino.  Not when he stared at her as if he could see straight through to the soul.

It’s a blurry memory, but he can vaguely recall the way she’d cried while holding him.  Clearer than the image is the way her voice cracked and whined in his ear, I can’t lose you, you said I wouldn’t lose you.  He’d held his promise this long, and Ino very much intends to stick to it.

He plants his lips at the crown of her head, and the comforting affection surprises her a bit, but she just as quickly falls into him.  Her arms loop around his neck and her fingers dig into his shoulders, anchoring herself to him as if he alone would keep her in this moment, and away from that dark corner.

“Still,” He insists quietly.  “I should’ve been there for you,” 

(y/n’s) not sure she’s ever felt love swell in her chest the way she does now.  It washes over her in a heavy wave, filling her with relief, and warmth, but most importantly hope.  For the first time, she doesn’t fear it, or discard it as a pointless venture.

Things were different now, she decided, her eyes moving between his and the injuries still littered across his face.  They would heal just fine, but they were still a gnarly sight to look at now.  It made the warm relief in her chest begin to burn.  So things were different now because they had to be.  Things were different now because she had something she was going to fight for.  

Love wasn’t pointless.  Love was what was going to push her through whatever horror was next in line.

“Cause we’re partners” Ino finished, his brows twitching ever so slightly as he watched something unknown flash in her eyes.  They light up for a moment, before she’s nodding back at him, staring at him with the utmost sincerity.

A small “yeah,” is whispered between shaky nods, and her grip on his shoulders tightens just enough for Ino to notice.  His lips tilt upwards.

She’s still quiet when she speaks, but it’s not due to the lump in her throat.  It’s from true, genuine love pouring out of her so openly that her voice is practically snatched from her.  She squeezes his shoulders once more.

“Partners” ___

a/n: well that was my 23k word ino fic that i had to split up bc it was too damn big. laugh it up how in love with him after thirty seconds of screentime

[yourheart-inmyhands]

Had a thought

Yandere aether and lumine were trying to find reader and that's why they were heading to teyvat but when they find them there trying to run away abandon them again

-🌮 annon

for the most part, lumine and aether would be pretty similar in their hunt for their darlings, it would be when they find their darlings that things change so i hope you don't mind that i sorta lumped them together for this!

Warning: this post contains yandere-themes, including stalking, delusional behaviors, and other potential topics. Please read at your own risk!

Yandere!Lumine and Yandere!Aether would be furious, they don’t care where you think you can hide, they don’t give a fuck about what they have to cut down to get to you. They will find you.

It had been a few months since your escape to Teyvat, bouncing from nation to nation as you looked for a more permanent place to hide. It seemed like wherever you touched down and tried to lay low, you’d be followed. You first landed in Mondstat, managing to befriend a lovely red-haired man. When you heard news of the Traveler’s arrival, you panicked, but Diluc came to your rescue. With some help, he managed to help get you to Liyue, where you managed to befriend a darling ship captain. When Traveler touched down there as well, you caught a one-way trip to the electrifying nation of Inazuma. There you hid out at a shrine, way out in the middle of nowhere. A young girl with a bad habit of falling asleep often visited you, and when the time came to flee once more, she had managed to sneak you a teleportation crystal. A small thanks for all the times you’d help hide her from the other shrine maidens. It brought you to Sumeru, a lovely place with many kind folk. The charming aranara kept you company during your stay there, helping you find Cyno who escorted you through the desert and to Fontaine. The only problem was, that by the time you reached Fontaine, news had spread about how lovely and amazing the Traveler was, meaning that now, there would be no one to believe your story about fleeing. No one to help you this time.

[aziraphales-library]

hi, love y’all’s blog and all your hard work so dearly. i think I’ve read every crowley whump fic you’ve shared here, i love that trope but its much harder to find personally. im wondering if you have any more crowley whump oneshots, thank you so much

Hello! I'm glad you've been enjoying our #crowley whump tag! There are hundreds on the ao3 tag, too! Here are some more to add to our collection. Mind the tags and warnings, folks!...

Hot Pursuit by Anonymous (M)

While on a walk in the South Downs, Crowley is attacked by Hellhounds. Will Aziraphale be able to save him?

help me in my weakness. i'm falling out of grace by Bentley26 (T)

Prompt fill for Febuwhump Day 2: solitary confinement The War in Heaven was over. Lucifer and his rebellious angels had lost. Raphael was gathered up with the rest and thrown into a dark, featureless cell. He simply had to wait until they came back for him; then he could explain everything. They would come back for him... right? (Takes place right after the War, but before Crowley's actual Fall.)

Supplemental Summoning by ImagineThat0327 (T)

Somebody summons Crowley, believing him to be the demon that burned down the abbey belonging to the Order of Chattering Nuns eleven years ago. Crowley tries to make his case that he is, in fact, not the same demon as before, (damn you, Hastur!) but his summoner is having none of it. They are determined to make Crowley suffer a death just as dreadful as the ones the nuns suffered so long ago. Can Aziraphale come save Crowley in time? Or will Crowley burn, just like the abbey did so long ago? Whumptober prompt #9: Mistaken Identity

A Flat Circle by cassieoh_draws, EdosianOrchids901 (M)

Hell is full of rumors about demons vanishing and coming back haunted by whatever happened to them. Crowley isn’t convinced, but his opinion quickly changes when he’s summoned for the first time. Will Aziraphale rescue him?

You’re My Saving Grace by Bazzpop (T)

Pain seared through Crowley’s shoulder, pulsing sickeningly in time with the frantic beat of his unnecessary heart. That damn cowardly squire hadn’t even asked him for a proper duel, just snuck up behind him while he was making camp and lobbed a great bloody sword at his head. For Christ’s sake, he wasn’t even in any type of armor and didn’t have a sword on him, how was that supposed to be fair? — Crowley gets attacked with a blessed weapon, Aziraphale hears news of this and rushes to his aid.

may love thrive in hiding by Melime (M)

Only a few years after being given the Holy Water by Aziraphale, Crowley is faced with a threat he hadn't expected. He's summoned by a human wishing to gain eternal life, and that man won't take no for an answer. Meanwhile, Aziraphale overhears a conversation at an occult bookshop that makes him worry for Crowley. By the time Aziraphale finds him, Crowley is severely injured and may beyond hope for healing, but his love won't allow Aziraphale to stop trying. Can Aziraphale find a way to save him, or is he too late?

- Mod D

[benevolentcalamity]

I'm Quite Ten-tickled. [Mindflayer x Fem!Reader]

Cause I know a few people that would shout at me 'YOU NEED TO DO A MINDFLAYER' if they knew I existed. (That being about 1/4 of the Baldur's Gate fandom.)

Warning: This fic contains smut. I dunno if this equates to dubcon or what, but proceed with caution cause I have no idea what I'm doing.

There will be inaccuracies because I've only scanned a wiki and seen BG3 clips. Hopefully you guys still love me!

CURTAINS!

Come.

As though responding to the order tugging at your brain, the writhing tendrils part like a sentient curtain, before unwinding from around your arms. When the writhing prison at last gives way you're sent onto all fours, limbs limp from lack of use if only just to wriggle away from your tormentors. A cruel joke, this place, so wondrous and fascinating in its almost otherworldly structure... Yet, the moment you were pulled up by that grotesque tendril you regretted your brief study of them.

Was it a mistake, then? To push your brother out of the way even though he was the paladin? Surely he'd have laid waste to this ship by now - you simply doomed yourself to the fate he would have destroyed.

... It wasn't. At least this way he can go back to the church and mount a rescue. Not for you- alone, anyway. Everyone here that's still alive.

T'was the firelight outside that woke you to the siege. Buildings were being destroyed to kill the weak or scare the potential test subjects out into their range. You and your brother were two such folk - or to be more accurate he was the one. They always did look for the strong ones with 'potential', according to the horror stories of those that survived.

Did they know they were being researched? Or were they simply combing the continent for prey? ... Is this worth wondering if you're not sure whether tomorrow is what will be destroyed?

"AAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!"

A scream, unholy and thick with suffering, pulls your hairs on end, your feet fusing to the floor for just a moment. Your heart leaps into your throat, hands growing so cold they could sustain ice-based sorcery. With a deep breath heat slowly creeps back into your fingertips, and a harsh swallow commands your legs to keep moving as though nothing's wrong.

Again, the order: "Come to me."

For the guided it isn't a long walk, any passing faces blurred or forgotten, the near and distant screams falling mute. In fact, as you get closer, only the order - and in turn the Mindflayer responsible - remaining. You hardly feel how your back straightens like a stiff beam as you prepare to be obedient.

To the rhythm of the squirming sound in your head, his elation pulses with the order in repeat. That he will rise above, and command the shared mind of his kindred...

How do you...?

A dizziness takes over, wavering your steps a moment, as the flesh doors open. The moment that his mind reaches you, you're again steady, as though his hands themselves guide you in this moment.

"There you are."

Tendrils flexing and curling, he stands, and for a moment they reach toward you. Before long they echo the movement of his hand, beckoning you with a roll of the fingers. Watching you cross the squishy floor he hums, voice digging into your mind fully as his innate power wraps around your mind.

A break from this is visible solely in how there's a momentary hesitation in your hand reaching for a tentacle. That disgust fades in a blink, however, as momentary as he'd allow. Only he can feel that, if anything at all, in the turmoil that is his kind's heart. They have one, beating in only the Queen of their collective consciousness. All else is simply them following nature's grand design.

Impatient, a tentacle reaches and wraps around your neck, cueing you to simply shed your clothes. Without hesitation you follow the order, some stray tentacles wandering about your body as they pull you yet closer. Further imprisoning your mind where it should be, the rest of them wrap about your head, loosing your hair from the ribbons as his hand guides your legs apart.

Curiosity is shared between you two, the tadpole shivering in fervor as his cold gaze pierces your own.

"If yours is the body I require..." You're turned around and guided onto his lap, legs split and held up in the air. "Then through you, I'll hold the key to my ascension. So, rejoice now, for I will become the Absolute, and your womb will bear Illithid that will see my will enacted."

Clouded, you swallow. "... I will be... of service," You breathe. "My Emperor..." A thrall, yet your form hasn't changed - it's simply too sad to see tentacles spring from your flesh. Well and, you're appetizing simply in more ways than satisfying one's hunger.

Guided by his desires, your head tilts back with the opening of your mouth. Pleased, he allows a tentacle to slip inside, which you suck on as another wraps around your hand and holds it up so it can be caressed. In the meanwhile his mind engulfs your body, the very will to pleasure you seeing your insides squirm and pool warmly. Without complaint or hesitance he watches, amused, as your skin flushes and your every muscle bends to his will.

"A-aah!"

Slipping through his pants with unceremonious mucus, his cock slips inside of you with the help of a tentacle or two. It's big enough, lumpy and undulating, slipping in and out as though with a mind of its own. His powerful hands keep your legs high up, another tentacle pushing into your mouth as it throbs, swirls, and churns inside of you. With each thrust it hammers in his dominion over you, the voices of the other Illithid fading out as his own mind worms its way from the collection.

Merciful he tugs the tendrils from your mouth, save for one at the tip of your tongue, and lets you breathe. As the engorging and pulsating cock pounds all the way to your cervix, your mind grows foggier until he's all you can even feel.

I... I can see it now...!

From your body, eggs the size of your fist, squishing and squirming with new life ready to form. They'll grow into an army, nay, a legion, that will serve the new Absolute. Never will you die, for only you are worthy of this blessing - and thus the only one that should be seated upon the blessed cock of the Emperor.

Sucking that tentacle back into your mouth, your moans are silenced once again, thumb rubbing the tentacle guiding your arm around his neck.

Undulating further, his cock squirms and engorges until it settles in for what feels like eternity. He lowers your legs to hang them over the arms of the throne, familiar tendrils wrapping around your ankles. Anticipation sees your body arch, his arms wrapping around your waist as the rest of his tentacles tighten around your head. Not in hunger or malice, but an overwhelming possessiveness that will never see you be rescued or taken from him by another.

Lowering to grab your hips, his own snap up into them, and you squeal, mouth gaping open as he mercilessly pounds into you. Pleasured cries and pleas for him to never stop reverberate through the ship, him not interested in silencing them. Encouraged by your pleasure he continues his powerful claiming of your womb, his own arousal and satisfaction stoked by your flaming hunger for more.

"Yes-! YES!" You cry. "Ohhh, my Emperor! Oh, my Emperor!" Your one hand caresses his slimy head, one of his hands coming up to hold yours. "Aaah! Aa-aaah! Aaaah! Gh- fuck! Ahhh!!!"

Your back arches, and light flashes in your eyes. After too short a time he shoots a load into you, neverending, until your stomach expands and then hangs. The hand holding your precious head falls to hold your belly. In what feels like no time it feels lumpy, already hard at work in proving he made a good decision keeping you alive after you'd robbed him of the paladin.

"There. Now, you will bear the trueborn, and with me rule this world and all beyond. May our bodies never age or fall to mortal malady, for we will be the architects of a world befitting only our ilk."

He reaches beneath your body, cock sliding back into its slit, and an egg slides into his palm.

"Until time itself withers."

[normal-thoughts-official]

Wyll's ideal reclassing is as a bard and God herself couldn't change my mind.

Listen. I do like that Wyll is a ranger if he gets out of the pact but rangers are a lonely class by nature and fuck that. And while I also get the people who reclass him as paladin, I think the last thing he needs after getting out of Mizora's pact is to immediately be bound by a new and different set of rules to another otherwordly being he's sworn his soul to.

And while I understand why the devs didn't do this, since bards are sort of a support class and there are many possible endings for Wyll where he is on his own, I am bound by no such rules because i know that the only real canon ending is that he is with Karlach.

So, bard Wyll.

For starters, the man loves drama. Look no further than his introduction, but I would also like to present to the jury the conversation where he tries to find Gale a Cool Wizard Name. Pretty much the only thing he ever has fun with anymore is his theatrics. He'd love every second of being a bard and using said theatrics to defeat his foes. Especially because Wyll is a sweetheart but when he's angry he is angry, and as a bard he gets to let his mean streak out with spells like vicious mockery and such. "Oh he already has vicious mockery as a warlock if you have the pact of the tome" thank you for further supporting my argument. He was made for this

But there is more! Wyll is a folk hero and his whole thing is that he wants to help the weak and in need, and if that isn't supporter class material, then I seriously don't know what is. Yes, defeating monsters is important; but healing people, restoring balance by weakening those who abuse their strength, entertaining and making them happy are all just as important ways of supporting the weak, if not more important.

And those ways allow him to be closer to people, which he is so desperately starved of.

As a warlock he sort of had to keep his distance because Mizora would make sure he never got close to anyone, either intentionally or just by the fact that the nature of his pact put people off (even more so after the horns). Unbound by Mizora, he has no such problems and can find a community, even if temporary, with the people he saves. "Oh but you just said you want him to be with Karlach and then he's in Hell". Yes, and there are people there. Show me a single place with more people who are weak and unfortunate in need of rescuing and respite. I'm not the first person to say this, but they actually have the chance to turn the House of Hope into an actual house of hope where people can rest and escape the horrors of the Hells. And those people would need respite and happiness, and Wyll "Drama Boy" Ravengard would be delighted to provide and find himself among them.

Also, if no one else, he has Karlach, and there is nothing he wants more than to see her happy and alright. I don't need to justify this one, it's text. So, again, supporter class makes a lot of sense in that context. Warlock/ranger is good for when he's on his own, but he's sworn to help and protect Karlach now, and while fighting side by side obviously qualifies, being able to heal her - make sure she's alright - support her in battle more than just fighting with her, gives them a deeper bond and puts him more at ease, I believe. Plus, they both deserve and desperately need some playfulness in their lives, so, at the very least, he can make her laugh with his insane Vicious Mockery casts. He kind of overcasts that one because 1- he has fun with it, and 2- it makes Karlach smile, but they're both op as fuck so it doesn't matter anyway. It's the closest they can get to lightness and fun while they don't find a definitive cure for Karlach's heart.

And once they do find it and get the fuck out of there, listen. They both deserve some downtime, okay. We're talking about two people who have been thrown into fighting nonstop since they were barely on the cusp of adulthood, and who have more trauma to unpack than years of life. So fuck going straight back to adventures and oaths and nonstop seriousness. Sure, Wyll would want to, but he also wanted to go to fucking Hell for no reason. Even with his father back, even free of Mizora, that's the only thing he can think to do with himself if you let him choose. And he deserves better than that. He deserves to rest and unpack what's happened and find value in himself beyond the Blade of Frontiers, to enjoy the youth that was stolen from him; and the man craves to settle down more than anything, even if he won't admit it even to himself other than the marriage aspect of things. But need I remind everyone that when Wyll had been given a death sentence - the tadpole - what he did was stop at a grove and teach kids how to fight? He thought he would do one last mission and then die, and what he did was that for once he allowed himself to stay and get to know people and be part of a community for a while. Sure, they needed him, but so many people did. And he was supposed to be hunting Karlach, yet he put that aside in order to have a place to belong, just for a little while, before he became a monster and lost his soul (which is fine, really. One way or the other, he knew that would be his fate. It's just coming sooner than expected, that's all) (this is me laying down Wyll's logic. None of this is fine and I'm screaming and crying).

As for Karlach, she never even wanted to be thrown into any of this anyway. Once they're out of Avernus, they will both need to rest and breathe, and that is final. And as a bard, Wyll can settle down. He can find a home and a community, have a place to come back to, have vacations when he needs to, have fun when he wants to. He will never fully give up being a hero - it's who he is, it's who he's always been even before he was the Blade. Someone who cares, someone who wants to be there for others - but he can and should find balance between that and being himself. And what better class to do that than the artsy, dramatic, drawing-strength-from-your-own-self-expression class?

Plus, as a bard, he gets to sing absolutely off the shits songs about the Blade of Frontiers/Avernus while being the Blade of Frontiers/Avernus. The comedy potential is unlimited. You want to see that. You agree. Don't lie to me.

Also, bards' spellcasting modifier is also charisma, so that's just convenient. I know that when you get reclassed in bg3 you can simply change your stats but uhhhhh. Fuck that? And yes, yes, he already has high wisdom because if anyone has a will of iron it's him, but I also feel like Wyll's off the shits charisma is a part of who he is. He is charming, both in the romantic and non-romantic sense. He enjoys being around people, he loves culture more than anything (I am once again thinking about his idle dialogue with Gale at the tollhouse when Gale says that they must have been very rich with all the trade from the Chiontar and Wyll replies, "And they wouldn't have brought just trade goods, but song, dance, and custom. Riches of the mind and the spirit". If that doesn't summarize Wyll's values and love of life I don't know what the fuck does), he likes being social and charming others. And people are drawn to him, people trust him, because he's a goddamn folk hero through and through, and not just because he's the Blade of Frontiers. So keeping his stats and using his charisma to draw his magical strength just makes sense for him

There's no other class that Wyll would enjoy as much, that would allow him to keep his favorite parts of being the Blade while also allowing room to be himself, or that would fit his current stats as well. Wyll was made to be a bard and I'll go to war over this

[thegayestmferintown]

My longest request ever... you should go get a get a snack.

Allow me to set the scene:

1000 years have passed. The Cult of The Lamb has long since blossomed into a full religion, and with it, society and technology skyrocketed with it. (Think early 1910's-1920's in how advanced tech is) A metropolitan city where The Lambs influence is absolute.

While most of the world rose up, some details faded into obscurity. The 4 Bishops, the Mystic Stranger, and the traditions of the Old Faith, many innocuous details faded from people's minds and into the dusty books of long forgotten historical facts, and some even became more akin to myth than fact.

Among these many facts that faded away into knowledge only treasured by historians and book lovers, was one important thing that somehow managed to slip between the cracks:

Narinder. His rescue by The Lamb. His immortality. His ever eternal watch over the people as time passed.

Forgotten by the common folk, remembered by few, and those who remembered pushed this fact into the realm of myth and legend.

Narinder has watched the world forget him, and grow far more than he could have ever imagined. And he was used to not being recognized anymore.

He never expected his name to be called aloud ever again.

Until you came along.

You (Reader) are a historian of the earliest years of the Lambs Influence, researching the beginning, the before, and the waaaaay before too. And you finding someone who not only was half the reason your city was possible, but to find them ALIVE?

It's historians dream come true!

(TLDR)

1000 years after Narinders fall from grace and integration into the cult, everyone forgets that he lived, and is immortal and still alive. A historian (reader) of the Earliest Days find him, and goes fangirling mode, barrageing him with questions and not leaving him alone. And Narinder isn't haveing (most) of it. He probably likes the attention more than he let's on...

𝐈. 𝐘𝐞𝐬. 𝐈 𝐚𝐦 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 /𝐩

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐍𝐨𝐧𝐞

𝐑𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩: 𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜 (𝐁𝐄𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐈 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐀 𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏)

𝐓𝐲𝐩𝐞: 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲

"𝐀 𝐇𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧?"

𝐍𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐁𝐮𝐬𝐲 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐰. 𝐏𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬. 𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐦𝐛 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐟𝐮𝐧, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐍𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐥𝐲 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐚𝐬 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐖𝐡𝐨 𝐖𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐬.

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐦, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞? 𝐎𝐡, 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝! 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡, 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐍𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰.

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐦𝐛 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰, 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐲. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐦𝐛 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐍𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤. 𝐀 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐲 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬, 𝐚 𝐛𝐚𝐠, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐚𝐠, 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐧𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐠 𝐨𝐧.

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦, 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐎𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐍𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟.

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞, 𝐨𝐜𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐧'𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐮𝐩 𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩. 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐥. 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐰 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐲, 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐨𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞.

𝐁𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐩 𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐧, 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐥𝐲. 𝐀 𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐬, 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐥, 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧. "𝐋𝐚𝐦𝐛, 𝐈 𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠!" 𝐇𝐞 𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫, 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬 𝐮𝐩𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

"𝐖𝐡𝐨 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮?" 𝐇𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝, 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐰𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐟 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐝 𝐮𝐩 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫, "𝐈'𝐦 𝐚 𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡." 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝, 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐤 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐰 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝.

"𝐀 𝐇𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧?" 𝐀 𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐢𝐦, 𝐭𝐡𝐫 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐤 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞. "𝐇𝐦." 𝐇𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝, 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐮𝐩 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧. "𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭?" 𝐇𝐞 𝐭𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐝, "𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬! 𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐫?" 𝐍𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐨 𝐚𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝.

𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬, 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝. 𝐀 𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐰𝐥 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬, 𝐲𝐞𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬. 𝐇𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐦, 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐭 𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐲 𝐈𝐧𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚... 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐲.

𝐇𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐲, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧, 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐥.

𝐇𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬. "..𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭?" 𝐇𝐞 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐝, 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐮𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐚𝐲.

"𝐀 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧!" 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐝, 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐦. 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐬𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐭, 𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐧. "𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞. 𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲?" 𝐇𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧.

𝐀𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐦 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐰𝐥 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲. 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭, 𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝.

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐰, "𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠?" 𝐇𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝, "𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞'𝐬 𝐚.. 𝐮𝐡. 𝐋𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐫 𝐄𝐜𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞?" 𝐇𝐞 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐝, 𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐠𝐚𝐳𝐞.

"𝐈'𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨," 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐫 𝐄𝐜𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬𝐞. 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫. 𝐇𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬.

𝐇𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐫𝐦 𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐬, 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐋𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐫 𝐄𝐜𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬𝐞.

[desiderio-dixon]

Darkest Before the Dawn

Chapter 3 : Hand Me Downs

Pairing : Daryl Dixon x f!reader (endgame), (unrequited) Glenn Rhee x f!reader

Series summary : When Glenn Rhee comes into your life, you become convinced he's a guardian angel sent by your late best friend. You think he's your soulmate. But then he falls for the farmer's daughter, and you find that your own angel may be a little more blatant than expected; wings and all.

Chapter summary : Glenn returns from Atlanta, Daryl returns from hunting, and all of you leave on a rescue mission for Merle.

Chapter warnings : language, violence, gore, general twd themes

Word count : 3.8k

A/N : This one wasn't proof-read so if anyone noticed any mistakes please lmk! next update may be a little slower because closing in on the process of adopting a puppy!

❀~~__~~❀~~__~~❀

Emerging from your tent, you head for Dale immediately. The noise is only growing closer and louder, and everyone is grouped around Dale. The old man looks through his binoculars, eyebrows furrowed. "Well, I'll be damned." Dale mutters.

"What is it?" Amy pushes impatiently.

"A stolen car is my guess."

The bright red sports car pulls into the quarry, and your heart leaps in your chest when you spy the driver. While everyone around panics about the noise, or their still-missing friends, your relief outweighs anything else. You leap onto Glenn, hugging him tight while he attempts to calm Amy. Paying it no mind, you only focus on the way his arms circle around your back to return the hug. It only lasts a couple seconds before he's stepping back to pop the hood for Shane. It's enough, though.

"Why isn't she with you? Where is she? She's okay?" Amy sputters, wide eyed and frantic.

"Yes! Yeah, fine. Everybody is. Well, Merle not so much." Typically you wouldn't care that anything had happened to Merle. You'd even go as far to say, you'd be downright relieved. You wouldn't wish death on anyone, but maybe you'd wish that Merle would somehow be teleported a good 200 miles away from you. But, that relief was only there for a split second. Instead, you felt a deep sense of worry for Daryl.

You didn't know him much at all, hell, he's spoken no more than five sentences to you the entire time you'd known him. None of those sentences were ever delivered in a particularly friendly manner, but just this morning he had helped you. You knew he felt like an outsider, and it seemed the only person in the group he liked was his brother.

Not only were you worried he'd fall into some form of depression if Merle was dead, but you were also worried he'd leave. Daryl provided so much to your group, and whether they realized it or not, everyone owed a lot to him.

You break free of your thoughts just in time to hear Dale scolding Glenn. "It wouldn't hurt you to think things through a little more carefully next time, would it?"

You know Glenn looks up to Dale, can see his worry of disappointing him. "Sorry," Glenn says, staring at his feet. Then, he looks up with a grin. "Got a cool car." That makes you let out a huff of laughter. It is a pretty cool car.

Your attention is stolen away by the sound of tires crunching over gravel, the van pulling in behind the red dodge charger. Andrea is the first to hop out, running to Amy. Morales, T-dog, and Jacqui all spill out after her. Morales greets his wife and children before coming over to give Dale a hug. "I thought we'd lost you folks for sure." Dale laughs.

"How'd y'all get out of there, anyway?" Shane asks, hands on his hips. The classic authoritarian stance he always seems to don.

From beside you, Glenn speaks up. "New guy." He glances to the van. "He got us out." New guy? It's been a while since your group has welcomed a new addition.

Nothing could prepare you for the reaction to the man who steps out of the van. Lori and Shane frozen, absolutely shellshocked. Carl, running and screaming for his father.

Lori recovers after a moment, falling into her husband's awaiting arms. Shane stays where he is, no hint of a smile on his face. You catch him fake one when Rick looks his way. It's not hard to guess what's happening. "Trouble in apocalyptic paradise for Shane and Lori." You whisper to Glenn, who only looks down at his shoes and shakes his head in sardonic amusement.

You get along well enough with Lori, if nothing else but for the simple fact that you adore her son. She's never done anything to make you think less of her, and you really don't blame her for her obvious affair with Shane. She'd told the story to you once or twice. Husband gets shot on the job, comatose, shit hits the fan, husband's best friend takes care of her and her son. And of course, she'd told you the part where Shane had listened for a heartbeat. There was none. Or so it was said.

Who can blame a grieving widow, lost in this shit-storm of a world for seeking comfort in a fling with the man she believes is her savior?

❀~~__~~❀~~__~~❀

You sit down by the unlit firepit with T-dog and Glenn. T-dog gnaws on a piece of jerky, eyes downcast. "Daryl's not gonna be happy," You start. No one has filled you in exactly on what happened, just that Merle was left chained on the roof. Alive but trapped. "But I'm sure he'll understand to some degree. He's gotta be more tired of his brother than any of us." You joke. T-dog just shakes his head, obviously guilty.

"He was out of control. Rick did the right thing." Glenn tells you. You hum in response, gaze wandering to where Rick wanders around camp, acquainting himself with all it's residents. The deputy must feel your eyes on him, because when he's done shaking Ed's hand, he heads for you. He's all confident strides, a sureness you haven't seen in anyone since the end of the world. You guess it's the effect of finding your wife and child in such unlikely circumstances.

He stops in front of you, hand extended and a smile more full of happiness than you've seen in two months. "Rick Grimes." He introduces.

You return his smile, clasping his hand. "Trust me, I already knew your name. Carl's told me all about how cool his daddy is." He laughs, looking down in a sort of bashful manner. You tell him your name, and he repeats it, nodding to himself.

"Yeah," He drawls. "Turns out I already knew yours, too. Glenn told me you know the city like the back of your hand." You nod. You'd lived in Atlanta before the turn, and you'd only become even more informed on it given the various runs you'd been on.

"Oh yeah. Normally I would've been there, being the one to save Glenn's ass. Glad you were there to fill my shoes." You tease, nudging Glenn with your shoulder. He pushes you back gently, sputtering out defenses.

When you glance back to Rick, he's laughing too.

❀~~__~~❀~~__~~❀

After the sun had gone to sleep, and the stars brought a bitter chill to the air, everyone gathered around the firepit. Rick has Lori and Carl tucked into his side as he recalls the chain of events leading him back to them. "Disoriented. I guess that comes closest. Disoriented. Fear, confusion; all of those things but, disoriented comes closest."

It must be strange to just wake up in a world like this. At least you had seen things progress. Heard the stories of cannibals on the radio, seen the news clips of deathly beings attacking civilians, watched the hospitals become overrun and the system fall apart. You'd seen the bombs drop, too.

"Words can be meager things, sometimes they fall short." Dale pipes up beside you. You look at Glenn, his face illuminated in a warm glow from the fire. Looking at him lights a sense of comfort and safety within you. He may be young, awkward and clunky, but he saved you.

The conversation goes on, focus almost entirely on Rick. When he turns to Shane, a sincerity to his eyes, you feel almost guilty. As if you are the one harboring the secret of Lori and Shane's affair. "I can't tell you how grateful I am to you, Shane." You have to suppress a sigh at his words. "I can't begin to express it."

"There goes those words falling short again." Dale quips. You can't help but agree. It's not your business, but you feel that words can't begin to express how convoluted the relationship between those three will end up being. How long can you keep secrets from a cop?

Shane leaves shortly after to argue with Ed. Not the first time the drunken man had insisted he needed a larger fire. You keep an eye from your spot, watching Carol and Sophia closely. You don't like Shane, but you know he'd use any excuse to beat on Ed. There's no complaints to be had from you if an altercation between the two started; as long as Carol and Sophia are safe and away from the action.

Somewhat unfortunately, the situation seems to resolve, Shane coming back to the main firepit. "Have you given any thought to Daryl Dixon? He won't be happy to hear his brother was left behind." Dale says once Shane's situated. This time, your sigh does spill out. You weren't a part of the Atlanta group, and yet, all you've been thinking about since they got back was Daryl Dixon.

"I'll tell him," T-dog offers. "I dropped the key, it's on me."

Rick shakes his head. "I cuffed him." You see Glenn shaking his leg from beside you, glancing between T-dog and Rick beyond the fire.

"Guys, it's not a competition. I don't mean to bring race into this, but it might sound better coming from a white guy." Ah, so that's why he was so nervous.

"I really don't think Daryl is like Merle," You say, unsure why you feel the need to defend him. Just because he brought Carol to you? "At least not like that." There were definitely other ways Daryl was like Merle. Their brash language, their unkempt demeanor, and perhaps their general strength and hunting skill. Still, Daryl didn't strike you as a racist.

The conversation goes on, discussing what to tell Daryl. Who to take blame, whether to lie or be honest.

"I stopped long enough to chain that door. Staircase is narrow. Maybe half a dozen geeks can squeeze against it at any one time. It's not enough to break through that. Not that chain, not that padlock." T-dog rambles, the fire crackling loudly as a backtrack to his words. "My point– Dixon's alive and he's still up there, handcuffed on that roof. That's on us."

His confirmation that Merle is alive ends the discussion for the night, the group trickles off into their respective tents, and the fire flickers out. Glenn stands from beside you, announcing his departure. You watch him as he leaves, a coldness taking over in his absence.

You stay behind for a moment, no one left at the fire. A few feet away, Shane sits atop the RV. Paying him no mind, you lean back and stare at the sky. It's moments like these that you allow yourself to remember your best friend; allow yourself to picture her face among the stars. You take a deep breath, feeling it stretch your lungs, before breathing it out into the chilly night air. You imagine it takes the weight in your heart with it. But when you're done, standing up and heading to your tent, your chest feels just as heavy.

❀~~__~~❀~~__~~❀

Daryl finishes stringing up cans around the small clearing. It's not much, but it's some form of protection. He lies in the makeshift bed–his bag as a pillow and a t-shirt as a mattress. The trip hadn't been as productive thus far as he'd hoped, only a string of squirrels lay beside him. He'll get up before the sun, and keep going until he finds something of value he decides.

He takes comfort in staring at the night sky. It's where he feels he belongs. Even before the end of the world, he'd spent most nights sleeping outside in nature. It was always safer. In some way, he does find himself feeling more exposed without the knowledge that there are people around him. At the quarry, there's always someone keeping watch. He couldn't trust Merle to keep sober to watch his back.

But soon enough, it'll be back to just him and Merle. He'll have to deal with it.

❀~~__~~❀~~__~~❀

You, Carol, and Lori are on laundry duty this morning. Carol scrubs Rick's sherrif uniform and something about it almost makes you giggle. Wearing a police uniform in the apocalypse is nothing short of something from a comic book.

You have Glenn's hat, trying to spot clean little dried blood stains. "I wish peroxide wasn't as valuable," You comment, scrubbing with all your might on a particularly stubborn stain. "Used to wash out blood like magic." Carol hums, agreeing. Lori stays silent, working on her own laundry with a faraway look.

"Everything okay with you and Rick?" Carol asks, touching Lori's arm gently with a soapy hand. Lori nearly jumps out of her skin, water splashing from her basin. Suds fly through the air, and to your great displeasure, a splotch of soap lands right in your eye.

"Ow, shit!" You cry, dropping Glenn's hat and covering your eye. Lori frantically apologizes.

Due to your momentary loss of vision, you don't notice Glenn approaching you until he's calling out. "Hey, you okay? Let me see," He says. You tilt your head up, trying your best to open your eye. He takes the corner of his shirt and lifts it, using it to gently brush soap away from your eye.

His care for you makes you warm. It feels good to know someone cares. You rapidly blink to clear the remnants of soap, before flashing him a radiant smile. "Thanks." You breathe.

❀~~__~~❀~~__~~❀

Later, you stand next to Glenn, sharing in his grief. Dale and Jim are under the hood of the Dodge Charger, yanking out parts and pieces. Glenn's hands are on his head, brows furrowed in sadness. You pat him on the back. "We'll find another."

"Generators need every drop of fuel they can get. Got no power without it. Sorry, Glenn." Dale calls. Glenn looks down at his feet and you giggle, much to his chagrin.

Before you know it, Rick has approached you, a similar look of amusement on his face. "I thought I'd get to drive it at least a few more days." Glenn mumbles.

"Maybe we'll steal another one someday." Rick echoes your earlier sentiment. He wanders off, likely to find Lori.

"You replacing me with officer friendly?" You joke, nudging Glenn. He exhales through his nose, a small grin on his face.

"I don't know who makes fun of me more." He whines. You roll your eyes, reaching up to steal his hat off his head. Placing it on top your own, you turn and run, laughing while he chases you.

The chase gets cut short by a chorus of screams. You and Glenn freeze in unison, wide eyes meeting each other before you both dash. You hear Carl and Sophia's distinct voices calling out for their mothers.

You run as fast as your feet can carry you, Glenn's hat discarded still on your head. The children are at the edge of the forest, and as the adults arrive, they all run right into their parents arms. Running into the forest behind them, you all find the culprit. A deer, now dead, with a walker feasting on its innards. Your eyes are drawn to the various arrows sticking out of it.

The men jump into action, beating the walker with various objects. It reminds you of prison beatings in movies; ugly, uncoordinated, and inefficient. When they finish, the grunts and huffs silenced, you point to the arrows. "Daryl." You simply offer.

Shane nods, but otherwise they seem to ignore you. "It's the first one we've had up here. They never come this far up the mountain." Dale says, eyes wide.

Suddenly, the tree branches start to move and dried leaves crunch under the weight of something. You all gear up to fight another walker, when Daryl Dixon comes stumbling out of the woods. There's a level of relief to seeing him, knowing that your group didn't lose both their prize hunters in one fell swoop. But there's also a level of dread, a sinking weight in your stomach when you think of the news that needs delivering.

You don't get to think on it long, for Daryl interrupts your thoughts with an outburst. "Son of a bitch. That's my deer! Look at it. All gnawed on by this–" He starts kicking the walker. "–filthy, disease-bearin', motherless, poxy bastard!" You can't help but laugh. You really don't mean to, don't want him to think you're mocking him. The giggles just tumble out one-by-one, unstoppable in their path.

Everyone pauses to look at you, varying degrees of concern and confusion, but you just can't stop laughing. Daryl narrows his eyes at you, "This funny to ya?" You can't answer through your huffs, so Daryl just scoffs, turning his attention back to the walker. It receives one more swift kick to the side.

Dale extends his arm in a notion to stop. "Calm down, son. That's not helping." You know it from the moment it leaves his lips that he'll receive an earful for this. It simply doesn't work to tell a man like Daryl to 'calm down'.

Just as expected, Dale receives the opposite of the intended reaction. "What do you know about it, old man? Why don't ya take that stupid hat and go back to 'on golden pond'?" You, for one, think Dale's bucket hat is very stylish, and you'd let him know that on multiple occasions.

"I've been tracking this deer for miles. Gonna drag it back to camp, cook us up some venison. What do ya think? Do ya think we can cut around this chewed up part right here?" He seems genuine, chewing on his thumb and contemplating with a furrowed brow.

"I would not risk that." Shane says. Daryl sighs, disappointment evident.

"That's a damn shame. I got some squirrel, about a dozen or so. That'll have to do." Daryl moves to leave, and you start to follow behind him.

Suddenly, the decapitated walkers head breathes life once more, snapping it's teeth and groaning. Daryl stops in his tracks, almost making you face-plant right into his back. "Come on, people. What the hell?" He readies his crossbow, shooting the decaying head right between the eyes.

"It's gotta be the brain. Don't y'all know nothing?"

❀~~__~~❀~~__~~❀

Daryl makes it back to the camp first, tossing his string of squirrels by the firepit. "Merle! Get yer ugly ass out here, got us some squirrel! Let's stew 'em up!" He does find it strange that Merle doesn't immediately respond, knowing how loose Merle's jaw is.

Shane's voice, his tone, sends a spiral of uncertainty through him. "Daryl, just slow up a bit, need to talk to you."

Daryl whips around to face Shane. "About what?" Shane places his hands over his belt buckle, eyes darting away from Daryl.

"About Merle. There was a–There was a problem in Atlanta." Daryl let's the words sink in, nodding slowly. He feels that all too familiar lump in his throat, panic digging her claws into his esophagus.

"He dead?" He thinks he must be. What else could Shane be referring to?

"We're not sure." Shane says. That lights a fire in Daryl. Uncertainty has never been his friend. Things didn't feel real without confirmation.

"He either is or he ain't!"

Rick approaches, hand out as if Daryl was some rabid animal. "No easy way to say this, so I'll just say it."

"Who are you?" Daryl snaps, looking this new guy up and down. He looks past him, to everyone at camp, who seems to not bat an eye at the newcomer. The hell did he miss?

"Rick Grimes." The confidence that Rick delivers his name in only makes Daryl more angry.

Daryl huffs, stepping closer to Rick, chest puffed. "Rick grimes, you got something you want to tell me?"

"Your brother was a danger to us all, so I handcuffed him on a roof, hooked him to a piece of metal." Rick tilts his head, locking eyes with Daryl. "He's still there."

Daryl almost laughs, a bitter, angry laugh at the absurdity. "Hold on. Let me process this." He gestures to his head. "You're saying you handcuffed my brother to a roof and you left him there?" He yells.

"Yeah." Next thing Daryl knows, he's pulled his knife and Shane has him in a chokehold.

"You'd best let me go!" He screeches, thrashing wildly.

Shane only seems to tighten his grip. "Nah, I think it's better if I don't."

"Choke hold's illegal."

Shane has an air of amusement in his tone when he responds, but nothings funny to Daryl right now. "You can file a complaint. Come on, man. We'll keep this up all day."

Rick crouches down to look Daryl in his eye. "I'd like to have a calm discussion on this topic. Do you think we can manage that? Do you think we can manage that?"

Its not Rick's request, or his condescending tone that causes Daryl to agree. It's not Shane's grip either. It's when he looks behind them, to you.

You, with your eyes full of not fear or worry, but of sympathy. It makes shame burn in him, enveloping his body in an overwhelming and uncomfortable warmth. He feels your eyes on him and he feels your pity and it makes him sick. He needs out. If he has to have a peaceful conversation with Rick to get away from your piercing eyes, then so be it.

Imagine Daryl's thrill when Rick proposes you and Glenn to join in the rescue mission for Merle. He'd said something about you and Glenn knowing the city, needing you to retrieve a bag of guns. Daryl narrows his eyes at you and Glenn when you pack into the back of the van. You've still got the kid's hat on, and something about that makes him uncomfortable. Who has time for love in this world?

The ride is mostly silent, some jokes exchanged between you, Glenn, and T-dog. Nothing Daryl pays much attention to. He'd rather go get his brother himself. Eventually Glenn stops the van. "We walk from here."

On the walk, Daryl's heart speeds up the closer he gets to the department store. He's antsy, just wants to see his brother, dead or alive. You seem to notice, speeding your steps a bit to walk in pace with him. "I'm sure he's okay. You Dixons are tough." Daryl just scoffs, refusing to meet your eye.

Each step up to the roof sends a new wave of nerves through his stomach, so he takes them two at a time. T-dog cuts through the padlock and Daryl brushes past him onto the roof. "Merle!" And then he sees it. Grey and decaying, bloody and lifeless. It reminds Daryl of everything else Merle has left for him.

All the ripped old flannels, the half drank beers, hell, even the aged porno mags with the ink smeared and half the pages falling out. Merle never left anything pleasant for Daryl.

Though, while sobbing over Merle's dismembered hand, he has to say that this is the worst hand me down of all.

❀~~__~~❀~~__~~❀

taglist(open): @celtic-crossbow