#4 days before season of sanctuary started

[overrboarrd]

sanctuary [4]: vendettas

firefighter!roman reigns x azure clarke [oc]

warnings: bodily injury,slight angst,

word count: 5.1k

a/n: ik it took me forever y'all, so so srry. but on a good note, i'm pretty much done with my classes so updates should come more frequently. currently waiting on my new laptop to get here, but other than that we're back to our regularly scheduled sunday programming! also, i've been debating on whether or not to include visuals in the chapters, so y'all let me know if that's something y'all are interested in! anyways, love y'all down, and happy reading!

June, 2014.

The night was thick with the scent of summer rain, though the downpour had passed hours ago. Roman sat in the driver’s seat of his old black pickup truck, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. The faint hum of Led Zeppelin's Stairway to Heaven spilled from the speakers, and in the back seat, Dean sprawled out, cracking open his third beer of the night.

“Man, this song still hits,” Dean slurred, bobbing his head to the beat. “You can’t tell me it doesn’t.”

Roman shook his head, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “You’re drunk, Dean. I don’t think you’re in any position to judge music right now.”

“Whatever, man.” Dean raised his can in mock defiance. “Seth, back me up here.”

Seth, riding shotgun, chuckled lightly but didn’t respond. His mind seemed elsewhere as he tapped at his phone, brow furrowed. Roman glanced at him, noting the tension radiating off him.

“You good?” Roman asked, his tone casual but concerned.

Seth hesitated, then shoved his phone into his pocket. “Yeah. Just… residency’s been kicking my ass. You know how it is.”

Roman didn’t press further, though he noticed Seth’s hands fidgeting with the zipper on his jacket. It wasn’t like Seth to be this on edge. He was the golden boy of their group, always level-headed and a step ahead of everyone else.

Dean let out a laugh from the back seat. “Residency? Pfft. Sounds like a fancy excuse to be a buzzkill.”

Before Seth could retort, flashing red and blue lights filled the cabin. The faint whoop of a police siren followed, and Roman’s stomach dropped.

“Shit,” Dean muttered, straightening up and stashing his beer can under the seat.

Roman sighed, easing the truck to the side of the road. “Y’all just… don’t say anything,” he said, his voice steady.

The officer approached, flashlight cutting through the darkness. Roman rolled down his window, keeping his hands visible on the steering wheel.

“Evenin’, officer,” he said calmly.

“Evening,” the officer replied, his voice firm. “License and registration.”

Roman handed over his ID, and the officer’s beam of light swept across the cabin, pausing briefly on Dean in the back seat. The smell of alcohol was faint but present.

“Been drinking tonight?” the officer asked.

“No, sir,” Roman answered. “Not me.”

The officer’s flashlight lingered on Seth, who shifted in his seat, then returned to Roman. “Step out of the vehicle.”

Roman obeyed, sighing and stepping out into the damp night air. The officer motioned him to the side as another patrol car pulled up. Dean and Seth were ordered out of the truck, and Roman’s unease deepened when one of the officers started searching the vehicle.

Moments later, the cop emerged holding a small plastic bag containing four small orange pills. 

“Care to explain this?”

Azure sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by the melodies of Chaka Khan and boxes that seemed to multiply the more she unpacked. The room was slowly transforming into a semblance of home. With her tired arms resting on her knees, she stared at the box labeled ‘living room’, realizing she’d been zoning out for the last five minutes. A nagging energy had been lodged in the back of her mind all day—an energy that, she had to admit, felt a lot like the pull of Roman Reigns. 

She and Roman had been texting throughout the week, usually about the football season or updates about work. It was casual��light banter, half-serious game predictions, and questions about how things at the hospital and fire station were going. Shaking her head at herself, she decided to grab her phone from the kitchen island, checking for messages and reminders of football games she’d half-promised her dad to watch. As if on cue, her screen lit up with a text from Roman. 

Roman: We’re watching the game at Jimmy and Naomi’s place Sunday at 2. Could use someone to defend that sorry ass team of yours.

A soft laugh escaped her as she read his text. The cookout had been unexpected, bringing a warm, easy comfort between them.  A small smile played on her lips as she realized how quickly they’d slipped into a friendly rhythm, perhaps a bit too comfortable for her own good. 

The thought of being around him again—and his family—felt exciting, though she tried to shake the feeling away. She typed out a quick reply.

Azure: I’ll be there. Someone has to bring sense to that family of yours. Except Audrey, of course. 

She barely had time to put her phone back on the counter before it buzzed again. Roman was quick with his replies, and it was clear he enjoyed this back-and-forth as much as she did.

Roman: Ouch. Guess I walked into that one. You betting on the Lions?

Azure: Please, I’m not THAT hopeful. I just want them to play like they know what they’re doing.

Roman: Fair. If they don’t show up, maybe you can jump ship and root for my team?

Azure: Never. You’re stuck with that 49ers disaster on your own.

Roman: You got me. But I respect Lions fans. It hasn't been y'all's worst year, I'll admit that.

Azure grinned, pleased at his response. She leaned against the counter, the flutter in her chest catching her off guard every time her phone lit up with his name, and she found herself looking forward to their exchanges in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time.

Azure: What got you into football? Can’t say it’s not an obvious firefighter hobby.

She hit send and waited, her fingers tapping the side of her phone case. Roman always replied quickly, but this time, the seconds stretched into a minute, then two. She frowned at her phone, wondering if she’d somehow pushed too far.

Finally, the notification buzzed, and she felt a small flicker of relief.

Roman: It’s just something I grew up with.

That was it. No follow-up, no joke or teasing remark. Azure stared at the screen, her brows furrowing slightly. She hadn’t meant to strike a nerve, but his brevity felt like a subtle wall being put up. She knew she shouldn’t take it personally; after all, it wasn’t like Roman talked much anyway. Still, the abruptness of his answer lingered.

Roman: You watching the game tonight?

Her shoulders relaxed a little at his double text. He wasn’t entirely shutting her out, but the shift in tone was clear. He wanted the focus off himself.

Azure: Yep, told my dad I couldn’t miss the Steelers losing. You?

Roman: Audrey and I are watching it. Told her if the Browns win, she gets to stay up an extra hour on a school night.

Azure let out a small laugh, imagining Audrey excitedly cheering for the Browns just for the sake of a little more bedtime freedom.

Azure: Let me guess, you’re secretly rooting for Pittsburgh to keep her on schedule?

Roman: Nah, we pinky promised on it, so I’m stuck backing the Browns for the night.

Azure: A man of his word. I can respect that.

Her phone stayed silent after that, and she let it rest on the counter as she continued unpacking. But her thoughts lingered on Roman. She caught herself imagining Roman and Audrey on the couch, their laughter filling the room. Even with his guarded nature, it was clear how much Audrey meant to him.  She sighed, brushing off the thought, craving these conversations more than she wanted to admit.

Days at the station started early and ended late, each shift packed with an intensity that kept the squad on edge but also connected in a way that only first responders knew. Their evening drill had an added layer of rigor, with Roman calling for extra rounds to improve speed and efficiency in rescue maneuvers.

The guys fell into a steady rhythm as they practiced on the training dummies, the scent of sweat and metal mixing with the chilled evening air. Randy moved quickly, setting up the ladder with his usual precision. Drew climbed swiftly, while Damian had the patient loaded and secured within seconds. 

“Alright y’all!” Roman barked. “Again, faster this time!”

They reset and moved through the drill once more. Roman watched as his squad started to strain, but he ignored it, focusing instead on Damian’s words of encouragement towards the rest of the group.  As they completed the final round, the team slapped each other’s backs, their laughter mixing with the adrenaline coursing through them. It was these moments—these bonding experiences in the quiet before the storm—that Roman cherished most about the job.

“Good work out there,” Roman said to the team, nodding approvingly. “Head back inside, the rest of the night should be smooth.”

“As if you didn’t just jinx it.” Drew laughed, catching his breath and placing his hands on his hips.

“Yeah, don’t know why you even said that, brother.” Randy added, shaking his head in mock disapproval.

Not even five minutes later, the alarm went off. They shared a knowing look—Randy was the first to roll his eyes, muttering, “Told you.”

The dispatcher’s voice cut through the static over the loudspeaker: “Engine  2, respond to 1702 South Fort Street. Elderly female, fall with suspected head trauma. Approach with caution.”

Roman’s heart sank a little as he grabbed his gear. Head injuries were never easy, especially with older patients. And for reasons he couldn’t quite name, his gut told him this call was going to be rough.

•────────────────

The neighborhood was quiet as they pulled up to the quaint one-story house. The siren’s wail ceased, leaving only the sound of leaves crunching underfoot as Roman led the team up the front steps. They were greeted by a nervous middle-aged woman, who introduced herself as the woman’s daughter.

“She was in the kitchen, and she must’ve tripped,” the daughter stammered, wringing her hands. “When I came to check on her, she was on the floor, and her head was bleeding. I-I think she might’ve hit the counter on her way down…”

Roman offered a reassuring nod. “We’ll take care of her. Could you give us a little space, please?”

The daughter moved aside, her hands trembling as she held them together. Roman’s team entered the small kitchen, where they found the elderly woman slumped against the cabinet, her skin pale and her breathing shallow.

“Ma’am?” Roman knelt beside her, his voice soft yet firm. “Can you hear me?”

The elderly woman’s eyes fluttered open, but they seemed distant, unfocused. Roman signaled to Drew to check her vitals while he carefully lifted her head to inspect the wound. A jagged cut ran along her scalp, and he could see the faint pulse of blood underneath. It wasn’t bleeding heavily, but it was enough to be concerning.

“Vitals are unstable,” Drew announced, looking up with a furrowed brow. “BP’s low, and her pulse is erratic.”

Roman nodded, his mind racing through the protocols. “We need to get her on the stretcher. Randy, Damian, help stabilize her.”

As they moved her, the woman let out a weak groan, her hand gripping Roman’s arm with surprising strength.

“It’s alright, ma’am. We’re gonna take you to the hospital, okay?” he reassured her.

But just as they lifted her, the woman’s face contorted, and suddenly, she began to vomit, her body convulsing with the effort. Roman barely had time to react, but he kept his hold, guiding her so she wouldn’t choke. He shared a grim look with Drew—this wasn’t good. Vomiting after a head injury meant there was a significant risk of intracranial pressure. They had to move fast.

“Emergency transport!” Roman barked, his tone sharper than usual. “Let’s go—now!”

•────────────────

The hospital was quieter than usual as the night deepened. Roman and his crew had just finished transferring an elderly woman to the ER, her frail hand gripping his as she clung to consciousness. The call had been a tense one, and it lingered with him as he stepped outside into the cool night air, letting out a heavy sigh. He rolled his shoulders, the fatigue weighing on him as he scanned the parking lot.

And then he saw her.

Azure stood just beyond the automatic doors, talking softly with another nurse. Her scrubs clung to her slender frame, the faint glow of the hospital lights framing her like a portrait. When her eyes caught his, something eased in him. She raised a hand in greeting, her smile small but sincere. With a gentle nudge from her colleague, she started toward him, her hands tucked into her scrub pockets.

“Hey,” she said softly when she reached him, her gaze steady and warm. “Rough night?”

Roman nodded, dragging a hand down his face. “Head injury. Calls like that are always tough, and with her age… I just hope she pulls through.”

Her expression softened, and she stepped closer. “She’s in the best hands. You did everything you could.”

Azure’s voice was soothing, a balm over his wired nerves, his chest feeling lighter in her presence. Before he even realized it, her hand rested lightly on his arm, gentle and grounding. The soft warmth of her touch seemed to reach past the fatigue and the stress, sparking something in him that he hadn’t expected to feel so keenly.

He opened his mouth to thank her, but the sound of approaching footsteps shattered the fragile moment.

“Well,  if it isn’t the hometown hero,” came a voice laced with sarcasm. Roman’s jaw tightened reflexively as he turned to face Seth, whose sardonic smirk was as unwelcome as the tension he carried with him.

“Seth,” Roman acknowledged curtly, his voice void of warmth. “Didn’t expect to see you tonight.”

Azure’s hand fell from his arm, and Roman found himself missing the contact, an unfamiliar ache settling in his chest. Her eyes flicked between the two men, her posture tensing as Seth’s eyes lingered on her for just a moment too long.

“Oh you know, just saving lives… just like old times.” Seth’s voice dripped with mockery. “Even though you were always good at making yourself look like the good guy.”

Roman narrowed his eyes, a pulse of anger rising at the barely-veiled insult. But Seth continued before he could respond, looking toward Azure with an exaggerated shrug.

“Just thought you’d want a heads up,” Seth added.  “He’s always had a knack for playing savior. But sometimes, you can’t save everyone. Right, Roman?”

The weight of Roman’s irritation pushed him to put Seth in his place. “You got somethin’ to say, huh?” Roman’s jaw clenched, his body instinctively tensing. He shifted to face Seth fully, his voice low but his temper ignited to life. 

Seth shrugged, his sight shifted to Roman. “It doesn’t really change anything, does it? No matter how many people you help, nothing can erase what happened. Maybe that’s why you’re still trying.”

Roman stepped closer, his frame towering over Seth. “Walk away,” he threatened, his voice low and dangerous. Azure glanced between them, the hostility crackling in the air like a live wire.

“Oh, come on,” Seth ignored the warning in Roman’s voice. “Let’s not pretend we don’t have a lot to catch up on.” he stepped even closer, looking Roman  in the eyes . “You’re just mad that someone actually remembers what you were like back then.”

Roman knew exactly what he was getting at, and the implication felt like a sucker punch. His fists tightened at his sides, but he didn’t want Azure to see him like that—especially not with someone dredging up vague accusations about the past. He opened his mouth to respond, the sharp retort on his tongue, but Azure’s voice cut through, calm yet firm. 

“Dr. Rollins, maybe this isn’t the time.” She stepped forward, glancing briefly at Roman as if to steady him, then met Seth’s gaze with surprising resolve. “Roman had a difficult call. It’s been a long night. Let’s leave it at that.”

But Seth wasn’t done. “You think you’re some kind of saint now, Roman? Playing the doting dad, charming everyone around you? We both know you’re just trying to outrun what you did.”

“Enough!” Roman barked, his voice echoing through the air. Heads turned, curious eyes watching the unfolding drama.

Azure stepped between them, her voice calm but firm. “Both of you need to stop. This isn’t helping anyone.”

Seth sneered, his eyes bouncing between the pair before landing on Roman. “Next time.”

As Seth disappeared into the parking lot, Roman exhaled sharply, running a hand over his face.

“Roman...” Azure began, but he shook his head.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice tight. 

She frowned. “Are you okay?”

Roman hesitated, his gaze softening as he looked at her. “I’m fine,” he replied, though the weariness in his voice betrayed him. “I, uh… I’ll see you Sunday.” He walked  away from her before she could respond. The tension in his body began to dissipate, but the anger lingered, mingling with frustration and confusion. He knew exactly what Seth’s problem was, but they’d seen each other in passing more often than not over the past few years. So whatever reason Seth decided to revisit the past all of a sudden left him more aggravated than anything else. 

The morning sun had barely started to pierce through the clouds when Azure clocked in at the hospital. She couldn’t shake the lingering tension from yesterday’s confrontation, the storm that flickered in Roman’s eyes—it had etched itself into her memory. She sighed, bouncing her leg as she sat at the nurse’s station. If only work could be the distraction she needed.

“Morning, girl,” came a cheerful voice. Bianca breezed into view, her bright smile a stark contrast to Azure’s somber mood. “You good? You’ve been staring at that computer for five minutes straight, and I bet you haven’t typed a thing,” 

Azure blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

Before Bianca could respond, B-Fab sauntered up, her arms crossed and a knowing smirk on her face. “Honey, everybody saw that little showdown between Dr. Rollins and that firefighter of yours. He looked ready to throw down. What’s going on?”

“He’s not ‘my firefighter,’” Azure muttered, though her cheeks warmed at the insinuation. “And I’m not sure. They… have history, I guess.”

B-Fab smacked her teeth. “This hospital ain’t but so big. A fine ass firefighter EMT and the head doctor of our department going toe-to-toe? I woulda never seen that coming. That’s better than an episode of Grey’s-”

“Can we not blow this out of proportion?” Azure said quickly, lowering her voice. “It wasn’t that serious.”

Bianca arched an eyebrow. “Girl, please. The way Roman looked at Seth?”

Azure opened her mouth to respond, but the sound of the quick footsteps interrupted her. A nurse poked her head in. “Bianca, we need you in Room 312. Azure, Dr. Rollins wants to see you in his office.”

B-Fab gave Azure a pointed look. “You good?”

“I’m fine,” Azure replied, though her stomach twisted at the mention of Dr. Rollins. She wasn’t sure she was ready for whatever the conversation would bring.

•────────────────•

Azure knocked lightly on the office door, the sound of her knuckles against the wood barely audible over the hum of the hospital.

“Come in,” Seth’s voice called from inside, smooth and inviting.

She pushed the door open to find him sitting behind his desk, his signature smirk already in place. The way he leaned back in his chair, his hands folded behind his head, was far too relaxed for someone who’d nearly caused a scene outside the hospital the night before.

“Azure,” he greeted, his tone lighter than she expected.

“Dr. Rollins,” she replied cautiously, stepping inside and closing the door.

“Seth,” he corrected with a soft chuckle, motioning to the chair across from him. “Please, have a seat.”

She hesitated for a moment before taking a seat in front of the large hickory desk., folding her hands in her lap.

“I wanted to talk to you about last night,” he began, his expression softening. “I’m sorry you had to see that. Roman and I… we have a complicated history.”

Azure nodded slowly, unsure of how to respond. “It did seem… tense.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” Seth said with a dry laugh, running a hand over his beard. “But I promise, I’ll do my best to keep things professional going forward. This hospital doesn’t need drama, and neither do you.”

She relaxed slightly at his apology, though something about his demeanor felt off.

“You’ve been adjusting so well here,” Seth continued, his tone shifting to something more personal. “I’ve heard nothing but good things from Bianca and the rest of the staff. You’re a natural fit.”

Azure bit the inside of her cheek warm at the compliment. “Thank you. Everyone’s been really welcoming. It’s made the transition easier.”

Seth leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on the desk. “I noticed Roman has taken a liking to you.”

“He’s been nice, but…” Azure frowned. “Why do you say it like that?”

Seth let out a soft sigh, as if weighing his words carefully. “Look, I don’t want to get in the way of your personal life, but Roman and I have known each other for a long time. He has a tendency to… get involved with people and leave things messier than he found them.”

Her stomach twisted at the insinuation, but she kept her expression neutral. “I haven’t known him that long, but he doesn’t seem like that kind of person.”

Seth’s eyes softened, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone. “Let’s just say I’ve seen firsthand how things can go south when you trust him too much.”

She didn’t reply, her mind racing. Seth’s words felt calculated, like he was planting seeds of doubt without offering any real proof.

Seth must have noticed her silence because he added, “I’m just looking out for you, Azure. You’re a great addition to this team, and I’d hate to see anything—or anyone—distract you from that.” His gaze lingered, making her shift uncomfortably in her seat.

“Well, thank you for the concern,” she said, standing abruptly. “But I can handle myself.”

“Of course you can. Just be careful. Not everyone deserves the benefit of the doubt.” Seth stood as well, his expression unreadable. 

She nodded slowly, her mind a tangle of confusion and frustration as she left Seth’s office. By the time she returned to the nurse’s station, B-Fab was gone, and the unease in Azure’s chest had grown. Seth’s words replayed in her mind, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to his story—and to Roman’s—than he was letting on.

The rest of the week flew by for Roman. His large frame settled back into the plush sectional of Jimmy and Naomi’s couch, savoring the scent of buffalo wings and nachos wafting in from the kitchen. Audrey was giggling on the floor with Jey’s daughter, Mila; their laughter a welcome reprieve from the heaviness of the past week. The Detroit Lions were locked in a heated battle against the Chicago Bears on the screen, and while the game should’ve held his attention, Roman found himself glancing toward Azure more often than not.

She sat in the accent chair, dressed casually in jeans and a blue Detroit sweatshirt, her focus seemingly fixed on the game. Still, Roman could sense her reserve. Her laugh didn’t come as easily, and her gaze flickered away whenever his met hers.

Audrey’s shriek of laughter snapped Roman back to the moment. “No fair, Mila! You cheated!” she teased, pointing an accusatory finger at her cousin.

“I did not!” Mila shot back, her grin wide enough to betray her innocence.

Roman chuckled under his breath, grateful for the joy that Audrey exuded. But even in this lively atmosphere, his mind replayed the argument at the hospital—Seth’s words at the hospital had cut deep, reopening wounds he thought had long healed. Yet what gnawed at him now wasn’t just Seth’s accusations—it was how Azure might perceive him. The thought of her believing the worst caused an unusual feeling in his stomach.

Bothering him more than it should have.

•────────────────

The first half of the game was intense. Roman and Jimmy loudly cheered on the Bears, much to Jey’s dismay. Audrey and Mila eventually joined in, jumping up and down to mimic the excitement. Azure even laughed at their antics a few times, though she quickly fell back into silence whenever Roman looked her way.

Halftime came, and the game commentators’ voices filled the living room. Roman took a deep breath, catching Azure’s gaze. “Hey, can I talk to you for a minute?”

She hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line before she nodded. “Sure.”

He led her out to the back porch, the crisp November air cooling his skin. They stood in silence for a moment before Roman finally spoke. “I wanted to apologize for what happened at the hospital. With Seth.”

Azure crossed her arms, her eyes fixed on the horizon. “You don’t need to apologize for him.”

Roman shook his head. “No, I do. That argument… it wasn’t just about work. There’s a lot of history between Seth and me, and I’m sorry you got caught in the middle of it.”

Azure’s gaze softened slightly. “He called me into his office after that,” she said. “Tried to explain his side of things. Said you were… untrustworthy, messy.”

Roman’s jaw tightened. “And what did you say?”

“I didn’t believe him,” she said simply, her voice steady. “It didn’t add up, not with what I’ve seen of you.”

The weight on Roman’s chest lightened slightly. “Thank you for that,” he said, his voice quieter. A beat passed before he continued, leaning against the wall next to the back door. “Back in the day, Seth, me, and another friend were driving, cops pulled us over, and… I took the fall for something I shouldn’t have.”

•────────────────

June, 2014

“That’s not mine,” Roman said automatically, even though he knew whose it was. He turned to Seth, their eyes locking. The unspoken tension between them felt heavier than the humid night air. The officer shook his head before walking over to the second patrol car as another officer stepped out of the vehicle. 

Seth broke first, stepping closer to Roman and lowering his voice. “Look, man, I can’t—this will ruin me,” he whispered, desperation in his tone. “Residency, my license, everything. You know what’s at stake.”

Roman’s stomach churned. “You brought that shit into my truck?” he hissed.

“I just needed it to take the edge off, alright?” Seth’s words tumbled out in a frantic whisper. “You—you’ve got connections. Your family knows the fire chief. This’ll get swept under the rug for you. For me? It’s game over.”

Roman stared at him, his mind racing. The weight of Seth’s plea hung between them.

Dean, now sobered by the situation, stepped forward. “Come on, Seth. You can’t ask him to do that. Take responsibility for your own—”

“Dean,” Seth snapped, his voice low and sharp. “This isn’t your life on the line. Stay out of it.”

Roman closed his eyes, breathing deeply. He hated the position Seth had put him in, hated the way the officer’s gaze bore into him, waiting for an explanation. But he thought about Seth’s future, the years of hard work that had led to this point. And he thought about his own family—their respectability in the community, their influence.

When Roman opened his eyes, his decision was made.

“It’s mine,” he said firmly, stepping forward and taking the bag from the officer’s hand.

“Roman—” Dean started, but Roman silenced him with a look.

Seth’s face was a mix of relief and guilt, but Roman couldn’t bring himself to meet his eyes.

The officer gave Roman a long, scrutinizing look before nodding toward his patrol car. “You’re coming with me.”

As the handcuffs clicked around his wrists, Roman caught Seth’s gaze one last time. “Don’t waste this,” he muttered under his breath before being led to the car.

•────────────────

 “Why would you do that?” Azure’s brows knitted together.

Roman exhaled heavily, shifting his weight to the opposite leg. “Because I was protecting my friend. Turns out, I was just givin' Seth a free pass to screw me over... I didn’t serve time for it, but still, a lot changed after that.”

Azure’s lips parted as if to respond, but she paused, considering her words. “That explains a lot.” She spoke. “But I think it says more about you than him—you took the fall, even when it wasn’t yours to take. That’s not reckless. That’s selfless.”

Roman stared at her, letting her words sink in. He wanted to believe her, to see himself that way, but a familiar weight pressed against his chest. He looked out at the darkening sky, his voice quieter. “Maybe,” he said, his tone somber. “But sometimes, no matter how much you want to protect someone, it’s not enough. You can’t always be the hero people think you are.”

A sudden thud broke through the brief silence, followed by a small cry. Roman’s head snapped towards the back door, and the duo ran back into the living room where Audrey was cradling her arm, her face scrunched in pain.

Jimmy was already at her side, and Azure quickly made her way around the coffee table, speaking softly as she knelt beside her. “What happened, sweetie?”

“I hit the table,” Audrey whimpered, tears brimming in her eyes.

“Naomi, where are the Band-Aids?” Roman called, moving to join them, his heart twisting at the sight of his daughter’s distress. 

“Here,” Naomi jogged into the living room, handing the small box to him.

Roman handed a single Band-Aid and alcohol pad to Azure, watching as she carefully applied it and chatted with Audrey to keep her calm. 

“It’s just a little scrape,” Azure soothed. “You’re okay, I promise.”

Roman crouched beside them, watching how tender Azure was with his daughter. The way Audrey leaned into her, trusting her completely, filled him with an unexpected warmth.

“Thanks, Azure,” Roman said, his voice low. His hand moved instinctively, resting on her shoulder for a brief moment, the contact surprising him.  

“You’re welcome,” a faint smile spread across Azure’s face. The rest of the game passed in a blur for Roman. His focus wasn’t on the field or the score but on the woman sitting across from him and the way she had quietly worked her way into his life. Their lives. As the final whistle blew, signaling a Lions win, Roman found himself looking forward to the next Sunday—and not just for the football.

[ghostboneswrites2]

Hear me out: Early Seasons Daryl vs Later Seasons Daryl

Early TWD Daryl would have been emotionally unavailable, snappy, cold, and the ways in which he showed his care for you were limited to bringing you back cool things from a run, defending and protecting you, and sitting in silence with you

Late TWD Daryl would be a more tender lover. He’s had some growth by now. He’s learned to care, learned to love, learned to feel and express things. He’d drape an arm over you in bed or place a gentle hand on your back when he walked past you. He’d hold you and tell you it’s okay to cry.

Pre-Alexandria, he’d shut you out when things got bad. Post Savior war and especially post-bridge explosion, he’d ask you what was wrong and try to fix things, try to keep you hanging on. He wouldn’t want you to slip down that slipper slope of numbness and emptiness like he has before.

Romance itself was hard to come by in the early years of the apocalypse with him. He might find you a flower or bring back your favorite snack now and then. He might even let you catch him staring. He might not complain when you give him a little kiss on his cheek before he leaves.

In later years, though, just his eyes could soften in a way that made you feel loved. He’d brush a stray strand of hair out of your face. He’d fix your shirt as it slipped off your shoulder. He’d stop and tie your shoe. He’d disappear up the stairs after dinner and return moments later to tell you he got your routinely scheduled bedtime shower started.

If you had sex with him in the early years, it would be rough and awkward and aimless. Erratic thrusts with no rhythm, little to no satisfaction on either side, and a lot of awkward silence afterward.

At the prison, sex would have gotten a little better, and he’d start to recognize that your feelings for him ran a little deeper than surface level attraction. He’d try to do things to show you that he cared too.

Until things for comfortable at Alexandria, sex would half after the prison fell. Nobody had the energy or emotional stability for sex or romance back then.

Once things got steady at Alexandria, you two would fuck like bunnies. A comfortable bed? Hot showers? Nothing was stopping you two from exploring each other and learning new ways to please each other.

When things would get crazy and chaotic and dangerous, the sex would be quick but passionate. Maybe he just saw you for the first time since he escaped the Sanctuary and he’d fuck you in the bathroom at Barrington house just to regain some sense of control.

Seasons 1&2 Daryl would often scold himself for checking you out. He’d sometimes wonder if you flirted with him, but he’d always remind himself who he was to the group and how unlikely it was that you or anyone would show interest in the likes of him or Merle.

Seasons 3&4 Daryl would be a little braver. Lingering glances, making excuses to talk to you, an awkward chuckle. But he wouldn’t take it past that. You’d have to carefully tread toward the first move.

Seasons 5-8 Daryl would be protective but withdrawn. He’d be so occupied with everything going on that he’d have little time to spend with you, and truthfully it wasn’t much different on your part. He’d miss you, though, as you’d miss him.

Eventually, though, after all of his growth and emotional maturing, he’d be a soft, gently, kind partner. He would become a man in so many more ways than one, and that kind of change would show in all aspects of your life with him. Be it romance or intimacy or day to day life.

In the early years, when you’d fight or take time apart, you’d wonder if it was going anywhere with him. If it was even worth the stress and emotional neglect.

But later, when you two were getting older and your relationship got stronger and kinder, you’d realize it was all worth it just to experience this side of him.

[sunnybunnyy2]

Father Knows Best

Daryl Dixon x platonic!reader

Negan Smith x daughter!reader

WORD COUNT: 4.2k

TIME: season 7

Warnings: imprisonment, swearing, mentions of Daryl’s abuse, mentions of savours, transpires in season seven, spoilers for season seven of the walking dead, possible typos and bad writing

CHAPTER 3 to the Dark Cell Series

Not much Daryl in this one, sadly, but he will be in it much more next chapter!

Series Masterlist Official Masterlist

This one came out way quicker than the second and I’m sorry for that, but I am beginning to get into a regular posting times! So here it is!!

Your eyes were forced open when you heard the loud pounding of a fist consistently colliding against your door.  

You let out a groan as your senses began to kick in, the once blackness that you were seeing behind your eyelids was replaced with the bright light that shined through the window that was meant to be covered by your curtain but you had been growing even more tired since your visits with Daryl. 

It had made sense. Normally you would be asleep before the second night shift, so around 11 pm, but now you couldn't fall asleep until around 3 am, sometimes even 4.

That paired with the times that you had to wake up each morning had given you a maximum of four hours a night. Then you had to work all day and repeat the cycle again and again. 

You couldn't risk falling asleep before you met Daryl, knowing that he would starve that night, and that thought alone kept your mind racing all day. 

You constantly wondered how he was doing at the hands of your father. You wondered if he was being beaten, even if the old bruises on his face had started to fade you knew it wasn't long until they would reappear again. 

You wondered what else Dwight was forcing him to do. You couldn't really put anything past him. 

You used to admire how kind he was to others and how kindly he would treat his wife, Sherry, and her sister, Tina. But ever since Tina had been killed when they had escaped the sanctuary over a month ago and he had faced the wrath of her father, he hadn't been the same.

You knew it was because of his wife. Sherry had offered to become your father's wife to spare Dwight's life. 

You didn't agree with your father having multiple wives especially so soon after your mother's death. It had been just over two years and he was pretending she didn't exist. He was coercing women into being his wife, in hopes of filling the dark that was left after your mother had taken her own life. 

You could see how their presence in his life wasn't providing in the way he had hoped it would. You could see it in his eyes. 

He was miserable. So he was bringing pain onto other people to make himself feel better. You didn't agree with his ways of coping but it's not like you could change his mind. He was a grown man and could certainly make his own choices.

He knew where you stood and what he chose to do with that was up to him, you supposed. He knew you weren't a fan of his 'marital' status so he kept it as far away from you as possible. Making sure that he never showed affection to them around you, making sure they stayed out of your way. But that wasn't the issue. You did like his wives, they were kind to you. Always making sure you were okay. Never talking about your father around you. 

You had felt like his wives were a majority of your closest friends. When you pushed back the fact that they were sleeping with your father.

You tugged the sheets off of your body roughly as you jumped to your feet after realizing that the knocking wasn't getting any quieter.

You pulled your shirt down from where it had been yanked up in your sleep from your turning as you walked towards the door before jerking it open, causing the knocker to stumble slightly as they fell forward, making it clear that they were leaning against the door as they waited for a response. 

"Jesus," she spoke your name as she caught herself from falling to the hard ground. "Your dad wants you. Said you had something you wanted to talk to him about." Laura informed you as she looked at you with a blank face but you knew her facial features well enough from the two years you had known her to tell that she was confused about what you had to talk to your father about. You had always confided in her about the way you felt about your father. 

The disappointment and frustration but also about how you missed the old times between your family. About how you missed your old father and how you missed the comfort your mother had brought you before she died.

She had also spoken about how she missed her parents as well and even though her situation wasn't remotely the same, she still understood what it felt like to be a younger girl who just wanted her parent's love and affection. 

"Yeah, yeah...um where is he?" You asked as you ran a hand through your hair in an attempt to smooth out some of the tangles. 

"In his room. You better get ready, he ain't got all day." Laura sent a nod your way before sending you a half smile, clearly as tired as you as she was sent to do more work around the sanctuary. She never seemed to have time to rest. She was constantly either at Negan's aid or on watch somewhere around the sanctuary. 

"Sir, yes sir." You saluted.

"You wish I was a sir?" She asked with raised eyebrows.

"Nah, you're just fine to look at now." You smiled slyly.

"Jesus, you're just like your father." She shook her head with a smirk. 

"Damn, Laura. You wound me. Seriously that was so hurtful." You half-joked as you wiped away imaginary tears as you turned your head away from her. 

"I take that back, you're way better." She shrugged as she spoke the truth that everyone at the sanctuary thought. Though you had always assumed some of the saviours had befriended you because of Negan wasn't entirely true. Sure some did in hopes of earning extra points for themselves and their families, but most just genuinely thought that you were one of the good ones. That you could possibly be able to persuade your father to change his ways. 

"Alright. I forgive you, Laur. Even if you started my day off with a fucking headache." You spoke as you rubbed your temple, your words earning a very 'unladylike' snort from Laura as she started to back away from your room and down the hallway. 

"My pleasure, Miss. Smith." She saluted before she turned around and quickened her pace to her shift which she was surely late from, leaving you to stare at the hallway wall as you mentally prepared yourself for the conversation you were about to have with your father, knowing it could go two ways. Well, which was the unlikely scenario or, Awful which you were leaning towards. 

And that's how you ended up here. Sat at the table with your father as he settled in his seat after having poured himself a small glass of bourbon. 

You watched as Potter, a worker in the sanctuary, placed two plates of eggs, home fries and some ham on top of the table for you two. You sent a smile his way as he nodded at you and your father before turning to make his exit, but your father's voice stopped him. 

"Oh, Mr. Potter..." Your father spoke in a sing-song voice as tapped his fork on the table. 

"Yes, Negan?" He asked as he turned back to the pair of you. A trail of sweat hastily coming down his brow, as his anxious eyes flicked between you and your father in hopes of getting a read on your body language.

"I think you forgot something." He pointed to his empty cup of water before snapping his fingers as if the second after he spoke lasted an hour. "Today." He rolled his eyes as the man rushed over to pick up the pitcher of water and pour it into his cup.

"Would you like some as well, ?" He spoke your name as he turned to look at you. Your father's glass now filled with ice water. 

"Of course, she wants some. What do you think, she wants to eat your dry ass food without having something to wash it down with." Your father let out a laugh as if it was the funniest thing in the world all while glaring the poor man down, who was practically shaking in his boots.

"No thank you, Potter." You managed to smile softly at him as if to calm him. Your body lowered down slightly as your body inadvertent shrank into yourself in embarrassment at how your father was treating the kind man.

Your demeanour didn't seem to put the man at ease as he still looked as though he was about to stroke out, which apparently was hilarious to your father as he let out a booming chuckle from deep in his throat, his rough and deep voice spoke from behind his pearly white teeth. 

"Jesus, man. I'm just joking. It's just a jokey, joke. Holy fuck," he spoke your name, "did you see his fucking face? He looked like he was going to piss his pants." He laughed before looking at the floor as though he was looking to see if the older man had done just that. 

"That will be all, Potter. Thank you." You looked away from your father to face the middle-aged man before nodding to the door, not quite able to hide your anger well, causing him to look to Negan for permission.

Your father watched you with amusement glimmering in his big brown eyes, clearly finding your annoyance entertaining, before he nodded, still looking at you as he spoke. "Do you need her to tell you again? Leave. Now." Without wasting a second he scurried out of the room, probably to go cry in the corner somewhere. Your father seemed to always have that effect on people. 

"Did you really have to scare him away? I was gonna get him to cut up my meat." He laughed.

"You're a grown-ass man. I think you can do it yourself just fine." You narrowed your eyes at him, watching as his eyes widened slightly before they were amused again, a small laugh leaving his lips.

"You really are my kid, ain't ya."

You guys sat in silence for a minute. You glaring at him and him trying to hide the merriment in his eyes.

"If you've got something to say, baby, just spit it out." He said as he crossed his arms while leaning back in his seat, eyes studying your face. 

"What is wrong with you?" You asked with anger clear in your voice as you shook your head.

"Well, sweetheart, I have a lot of things wrong with me so you're gonna have to be more specific." 

"You know what I'm talking about, Dad. That. How you treat people." You scoffed at his attempt at humour, normally you would laugh at his stupid attempts at making you laugh but now, when he humiliated people for a good laugh, your blood would quite literally boil in your skin. 

"I was just having a little fun. He doesn't mind." He dismissed as he laughed, shaking his head before he began using the fork he was still gripping to take a substantial bite of his over-easy eggs.

"It's not a 'little fun', Dad. You scared him half to death. Does it not make you feel bad when you treat people like shit?" You shook your head in disbelief.

"No, it doesn't. I'm in charge. Im not treating anyone like shit here. Do you see all that I do for these people? What I provide for them." His face grew annoyed at your words.

"Yeah, Dad. I do. But you can help keep these people safe without treating them like shit. You don't need to make them fear you to keep them sa-" He cut you off before you could finish your sentence but you could tell by his tone that you got your point across.

"They need to fear me to stay in line. That's what I do. I keep them in line. How else do you think we're still standing? If I become buddy, buddy with them they'll think they can get away with shit they just can't get away with."

"You can be a decent person and still have loyal followers. I mean, shit, how do you think half the groups still alive are operating?" You tried to mile your tone down as you began cutting up your ham. 

"You mean the groups we're gonna take over? They won't be operating like that for long." He shook his head in dismissal before wiping away the yellow egg yolk that had dropped into his pink lips.

"But why can't you form alliances with other groups? Instead of controlling them?" You tried to reason.

"Look, hunny. I love you, okay? But I don't tell you how to lead your little posey so don't fucking tell me how to lead mine." He said angrily before taking hold of his glass of bourbon and gulping down all of its contents. 

"You do realize you just called you and your people pretentious, right? I do think it fits, though." You snorted as you took a small bite of your scrambled eggs. 

"What did you want to talk to me about? I have things I need to get done." He rubbed a hand over his face in annoyance.

"Oh sorry, I didn't know having a conversation with your daughter was such a burden." You shook your head as you began to stand up but we're stopped when your father grabbed your arm.

You looked over expecting to see a look of anger on your father's face but sat back down when all you saw was remorse for his words that were obviously taken out of context but they had hurt you nonetheless, as that was what he hated the most. Hurting you.

"You know what I meant. I love talking to you, you know that, don't act like you don't. Tell me what you want to talk about, baby. Please." He pulled his and away and picked up his fork, signalling for you to speak. 

"What is that community called?" You asked as you picked up the pitcher of water, not missing the look your father sent you that practically said, 'You should have just gotten Potter to do that' but you just brushed it off, knowing you were more than capable of pouring your own cup of water.

"Who am I? Fucking Professor X? You're going to have to be more-"

"That new community. The one you took a prisoner from." You specified, know that was his next word.

"How the hell do you know about that?" He asked with slight anger. He had tried to keep you as far away from his duties as much as he possibly could. 

He had constantly restricted you from leaving the sanctuary in hopes of keeping you alive and blissfully unaware of his actions, knowing that he had shaped his men well enough that they knew they needed to die for you. 

"Everyone knows about it. You don't exactly keep it under wraps. I can hear you boost about it from my room. Your voice travels." You studied him, wanting to make sure he wasn't going to try and keep something from you.

"Huh, so I've been told." He shrugged as he then began to study you, checking to see if he could notice any alternative motives. You could only hope he didn't.

"So?"

"Why do you wanna know anyway?" He questioned.

"I'm just curious. Sick of the gossip and rumours, just want to know what's going on. That's all." You attempted to play it off, hoping he didn't notice the slight quiver in your voice.

"I hate gossipers too. They seem to be everywhere, don't they." He replied as he squirted some ketchup onto his cooling grilled potatoes.

"Yeah, they do... so...?" You pressed, hoping he would stop beating around the bush and just reveal what you were wanting to know.

"Alexandria. It's a nice place but the people make it a fucking shit hole, their leader, Rick, is a joke. A fucking pussy if I've ever known one. Hell, I bet Potter could take him in a fight. Truly it's embarrassing." He ranted as he rolled his eyes, his fork scraping against his plate as if the sheer thought of Daryl's leader, Rick, had brought him so much rage that he had to take it out on the plate.

"So is there a lot of people there?" You asked, trying to sound casual.

"Two-hundred and thirty-four." He revealed causing her to tense.

"So we have more." It was a statement rather than a question.

"By a landslide, baby. We have five hundred and four through all of our outposts. In any way, we outrank them. You know what's hilarious? Their leader is so hellbent on killing me even though he knows my people could wipe his people out in a blink of an eye. Everything with that guy is a dick-measuring contest. But he should know by now that he's not gonna win in that department." He laughed once again forgetting that his daughter was sitting across from him. 

Your eyes rolled as he once again found a way to boost about himself.

"Jesus, your daughter is right here!" You exclaimed as you rolled your eyes. Sometimes he was such a child, you thought. If your mother was here she would beat him with her shoe.

"Sorry, sorry. But hey, I want to show you something." He said as he wiped his mouth with a cotton napkin, before placing it on top of his now empty plate, the streaks of ketchup and yellow remained.

Your food on the other hand was still half full, but you knew your father would have somebody wrap it up for you to eat tomorrow as he knew that it took you at least an hour after waking up to be able to eat. 

As you guys walked you caught sight of a man with long dark hair and a broad frame hunched over a mop. You didn't clue in until you saw Dwight roughly grab the man to make him continue his moping a little way ahead. 

It was Daryl.

You didn't have much time to react before your father was speaking again, drawing their attention.

"Dwighty boy, what do we have here?" Your father said as he stopped beside Dwight, smirking down at Daryl as he watched him silently continue his task, his head angled downward.

"Just Daryl, doing what he's told," Dwight spoke with a slight smile while watching Daryl.

Your father let out a booming laugh and you could see Daryl pause his movements for a moment having to mentally restrain himself from physically pouncing on him. 

You knew if he were to break loose you couldn't really blame him. Your father had put him through hell, but that's what he was. Your father. You couldn't let anything thing happen to him, no matter how much you understood how he was feeling.

"You missed a spot." Your father said as he watched the slightly shorter man conceal his anger with delight, clearly enjoying the inner battle that was going on inside of him. Your father kept his eyes on Daryl as he tipped his bourbon bottle on the floor, the dark liquor mashed with the newly clean floor. The half-drunken bottle now sized down a noticeable amount, he laughed again before he shoved the bottle into Dwight's chest. "Here, buddy. You deserve it." Your father tore his eyes away from Daryl before looking up at you, noticing the beyond-dirty look you were sending his way. 

"Thanks, boss." Dwight nodded as he clutched the bottle.

"Get back to work, you mutt." Your father smiled at Daryl but you could tell it was forced as he roughly patted his shoulder in a condescending way before making his way back over to you, sensing your unease about what he was doing.

He nodded at you to follow him before he began to stroll back down the hallway. You followed but your eyes were still trained on Daryl.

Your heart pounded in your chest when he turned his head slightly, watching Negan go before his eyes found you. 

They narrowed once he caught sight of you. You couldn't quite read the look that took over his emotionless face but you knew he didn't feel joy in seeing you with Negan. 

You saw flashes of rage, confusion and a flash of fear? 

Your eyes were locked on each other before Dwight harshly shoved Daryl back to his task which he complied with but at a slower pace, as if his mind was processing the fact that he had seen you outside of his cell with Negan of all people. 

You waited a moment before you turned back around, and in that moment you saw Dwight studying the two of you in confusion.

You hurriedly turned forward to look at your father's back as you turned the corner finally making your way into the kitchen. The one you had found yourself in more often than ever.

"Ta-da," your father said in an overdramatic voice, a wide smile on his face as he waved a hand towards a big a machine that was shaking as it operated, the small, shiny window was wet with condensation. 

"Holy-shit! Is that what I think it is?" You exclaimed in an excited tone as you practically hopped over to the machine in pure astonishment.

"Well, I sure as shit hope I didn't have seven of my men working themselves into the ground carrying this piece of shit back here all for it not to be the fucking ice cream machine that I've been askin' for, for a fuckin' year?" He spoke as you leaned back slightly as if to amplify his words. 

You let out a yell of excitement as you ran into your father's arms, his arms wrapping around your upper back as you tucked your head into his chest. You could feel his smile as he rested his forehead on top of your scalp.

It was moments like these that you missed. The pure moments of a father and daughter showing care for one another. Sure you were still angry with him for what he did to Daryl just minutes ago and for all the bad he was doing, but you couldn't spoil this moment.

The moment that your inner child craved to have.

The moment you were robbed of one too many times. 

You wondered if the sadness could be shown in your eyes. The longing for the love of your parents. 

You knew that Laura could see it. Just as you could see your sadness as well. It was like an understanding for the two of you. You both didn't get to experience much love from your parents, her from way before the outbreak and you, after.

You knew that your mother wasn't at fault for not being there for you. You knew that if she could be here, she would. That's just who she was. She would never miss any of your important achievements and even your minor ones, she always made sure to show up, no matter how much shit she would get at work. She would take all the yelling from her boss just to see your smile when you noticed she was there. 

Your father tried his hardest to be there but most of the time something else was always more important. You were always left having to deal with his half-ass excuses as to why he couldn't show up; only to find out that he was too busy fucking your godmother aka your mother's best friend.

You weren't sure how your mother could forgive him after all the stress he had caused her in the early stages of her cancer, but you knew it was most likely because of how much she loved him.

You had never quite seen someone treat their significant other as well as your father did when he found out about your mother's diagnosis.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" You chanted pulling away from your father to look at the grey and blue machine again causing your father to laugh at you, even though he was feeling elated at the fact that you had enjoyed his little present. 

"So, you want to take it for a spin?" Negan asked with a grin, knowing that he was gonna get a taste of the treat that he had also been craving.

"Do Andie and Ben end up together in 'How to lose a guy in 10 days?' " You asked with a raised eyebrow, a smile on your face. 

"Uh, I don't know, do they?" He asked in confusion, not quite realizing the reference.

"Yes!" You exclaimed before rushing to the ice cream machine, your father hot on your tail.

TAG LIST: @cult-of-norman @book-place @ilovespiderpeople @kazunish @mysouleaten @murdadixon

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[coraniaid]

Of course the boring truth is that (with just a handful of exceptions) the Buffy writers never really take seriously the idea that Buffy is not actually "the" Slayer. They try as much as possible to pretend that Kendra and later Faith simply don't exist when they are not the immediate focus of the current episode or arc.

In fact, they do this so aggressively that the episode immediately after Kendra's first appearance (in the two-parter What's My Line?) starts with Giles's pre-show voiceover solemnly repeating the (just proven false) claim that "in every generation there is a Chosen One … she alone will stand against the vampires" (and after What's My Line?nobody mentions Kendra again until she shows up to die a few episodes later). And so aggresively that, between going to prison in Sanctuary [which happens just before Season 4's The Yoko Factor] and coming back to Sunnydale in Season 7's Dirty Girls, Faith's name is spoken just four times over a run of 63 consecutive episodes (once in Season 4's Restless, twice in Season 5's Checkpoint and once in Season 7's Bring On The Night). In fact they do it to the extent that Faith's very last words in the show are to earnestly ask Buffy what Buffy is going to do now that she's "not the one and only chosen anymore" (something that Buffy has of course never been at any point in the roughly four years Faith has known her, exactly because of the mere existence of Faith herself).

But. Putting that aside for a moment.

Do we think that the monks who turned the Key into a human and sent her to be protected by "the Slayer" knew in advance that there was actually more than one Slayer in the world? Or did they only know to come looking for her in Sunnydale after the fact?

I mean, it doesn't seem like they had much time to prepare after "the abomination" found them, turning the Key into a human seems very much to have been a last minute spur-of-the-moment kind of plan born of desperation as much as anything else, and it's not clear why an order of monks who guarded some mystical glowing green energy for centuries would have spent much time keeping track of the lives of individual vampire slayers (let's face it, even the Watcher's Council didn't ever bother to do that, and some would argue that it is quite literally their only job).

In other words, did the monks actively pick Buffy Summers to look after the Key (and if so, how did they know who she was?) or did they just send the Key to "the" Slayer and get very lucky?

Is there some possible alternate world where one day Faith Lehane wakes up in prison somewhere in California and suddenly remembers that she has an estranged kid sister she hasn't seen in years who lives on the other side of the country?

[thinkpink212]

The Thinkpink Guide To a Pretty Pink Soft Life - Setting the tone for 2024

Hello lovelies, we've entered November and have one more month to go before we officially reach 2024! This time last year I sat down and wrote out the goals I now have fully compleated through manifestation, dedication and persistance. I've been asked before how I did it, so here is how.

1. It is important to have the mindset of a believer. More importantly, you must be a believer in you. Belive that you can and will have everything you desire simply because you desire it. You are the univers expanding, creating and experiencing itsefl. Once you believe, as well as trust in your abilities, vision(s) and start honoring yourself - You will become who you want to be (which is who you already are, just not yet)

Once your mindset is shifted, you need to get down to the specifics.

2. The Four Seasons - Work with nature, never against her. One of the reasons why I felt so sucessfull achieving my goals were the way they were divided. I had 3 major and minor goals for the whole year. These goals were centered around what would further me towards the life I wanted, with the seasons in mind divided into 4 phases. I wanted to factor in changing weather, possible shifting mood's, hollidays and much more to avoid any distraction or change of plans due to seaosn.

Examples

A. Major Goal was to graduate Massage School -> Lead to more financial abundance, freedome due to being more in control of my schedule etc. This had a deadline as school had a start and an end. It required dedication for studying, funds, and also for me to find a job afterwards. Took 8 months and three weeks exactly. B. Minor Goal Finish decorating my bedroom, in the home I had manifested -> Led to a safe, comfortable and tranquil enviorment that was costumized to my liking and need. Boosted my mood, as I had a sanctuary. This had no deadline, so it felt like a fun activity where it required funds, patience and selectivness. Took me 11 months to get 85% of what I wanted for my room. It is considered acomplished even though I may add more in the future, C. Summer is a time we want to let loose, have fun and be outside, so my goal of writing everyday felt easy enough untill the sun was calling my name everyday to go enjoy it. So, I implimented writing 30min daily, where any 30min not spend would be allocated to days were I did not have plans within that same week. Once I had to write for 3 hours (which I did) but never again did I skip my 30min. Most of it occured during late evenings as it was when I was already back home, few distractions and so on. - A habit I created was writing on public transport. The 13min back and forth was no longer spend scrolling but instead editing, writing, brainstorming etc.

3. Be selective and prepare for temporary sacrafices. Being real with yourself to choose what you truly want to dedicate the whole year to is crucial for a great year. Sometimes what we want can be stacked/combined. The more selective you are with your goals, and your words, the less things you put on your Goals list and can potentially transfer those to your Phase overview. put on your overall list of achievments. And be prepared to sacrafice time, habits and other pleasures that need to be paused for you to get to where you need to be.

Example; Major Goal 1 -> to become Financial Stable Phase 1 (January through March) -> Start Education / Courses that will alloow higher earning. -> Get a side husstle or main job earning x amount. -> Stay on budget of x amount weekly/monthly

4. Remind yourself of who tf you are Staying on track is easy while the spark is there, but after a few weeks, months, maybe even a season, sometimes that spark can start to seem like a tiny flame in the dark. Remind yourself of who you are becoming through moodboard, playlists, friends you trust who you can openly talk about your moves without fear of evil-eyes. Staying motivated is important as that is your fuel, so do what you need to keep your eyes on the prize. I personally made a pinterest board for each month, made sure to change my background to the focal of the Phase I was in, listen to the same three playlists whenever I got down. Journaling And I had an amazing tight circle of friends I would talk to about my moves.

5. Faileur is not a word you know - Rejection is redirection I do not recognize faileur, instead, I see it as the universes way to tell you you've chosen the wrong brick path and need to go left or right instead. So get up, dust yourself off and get to it. Sometimes life happens, so remind yourself that you can call it, go to bed and try again tomorrow. And I would like to emphesis on the fact that you do not have to start in January. You can rest then and start during the Astrological New Year (Aries season) and move in allignment with the Astral Plain rather then our sociatal concept of time. Just never give up, regroup and redirect.

Lastly, if you find yourself done before the year is over (like myself), spend that time further enjoying the fruits of your labor and give yourself a round of applause. Never forget that all is possible, you are a creator so create your reality even if it takes a little elbowgreese till you get the hang of it!

Goodluck to you all <3

[wakandamama]

Monday

In anticipation for me watching season 2 of the Bear 🐻😈. This is another smut continuation of Routine, that I may or maynot add more too. Enjoy fellow Chefkissers👩🏿‍🍳🧑🏼‍🍳 if you know me, I had to get my fav couple rn, car fucking.

“Carm…Carmy please.” she pleads, the damn near echo in the car. Her thighs clenching over his hand again. Carmy has to bite his lips in, hard. His dick achy at the sounds she makes at this point. The sound is fucking obscene, slick and wet as he forces his hand out the grip of her thighs. Her whimper at the loss of him is whiny and upset.

“Seriously?” She pants, all hot and bothered. Her eyes promising revenge for him stringing her along like that while in traffic.

____________

The way Sydney can’t get the obscene and lite salt taste of Carmy’s dick out of her mind is insane, it contemplates her to join her father at evening prayer tonight. If it wasn’t for the fact that she was currently pretending to reorganize her locker as she waits for him to finish the books, she’d be dosing herself in blessed oil as she entered the sanctuary. Right now, she could only thank God that Richie’s little girl had another dance recital so his smart mouth was out of the restaurant first. Carmy’s crude play-cousin was starting to linger too long for them to be safe from prying.

It is easier to wave off Tina as she has to get home to make dinner for her family. It was easier to excuse her lingering to Marcus as he’s been packing himself into mixing bowls and the oven lately. But Richie? The man was a tick with the capabilities to talk and apparently a bloodhound with how he commented about the smell of sex in the air lately. Sydney blames Carmy’s inability to relax unless he’s in her pussy or marinating a brisket.

She is drawn from her pondering by Carmy’s hand swiping over the smalls of her back. She glances at him when he opens his own locker and tosses in his apron. She closes her own when Carmy starts to trade his no-slips for his worn nikes. 

“Good day, chef?” he asks while he bends over to tie his shoe. Sydney is practically licking the lingering memory of the velvety feel of girth in her mouth. 

“It was. Richie was only half- annoying today. Glad he jetted out for the recital. Marcus made me this orange cream puff sampler thingy. He’s getting better. It wasn’t too sweet, flaky, the cream wasn’t gritty at all. Was a perfect bust in my mouth.” she teases. Carmy gives a little huffing laugh when he stands back up. He grabs his jacket, leans in close to her ear as he thread his arms through. 

“I can put something better in there.” He rasps to her. She chuckles, he smirks at it and softly bumps her shoulder  He follows right behind her, only pausing to put a step between them to turn out the lights. They get to his car, he is cute but swift to open her door and close it behind her before going around the front. 

The two take off, both letting out sighs of annoyance at the standstill of traffic they hit within 4 minutes of the 12 minute ride to his place. Carmy settles back in his seat one hand impatiently grips and un-grips the steering wheel and the other rests on his thigh. Sydney peels off her jacket, then pops her button until the cleavage of her breast just peaked out. Carmy bites his lip as he spies the perks of her dark nipples under her white tee. 

“We have to stop hanging back so late. Get a frickin life.” She mentions. He hums and gives a short nod to it. Sydney grabs the hand resting on his thigh as they creep forward in traffic. She inspects his short and bitten nails, yet his fingers clean and callous but dry. She didn’t like how dry it was. 

She rests his hand on her thigh and grins as he starts to massages the inner meat of it. She tucks it close to her lap as she reaches down and grabs lotion out of her bag. Carmy gives her an amused side glance as she squirts a bit of aquaphor into her own palms then starts to massage and rub it into his hand. 

“Having fun there?” he asks and Sydney hums.

“You gotta take care of your hands better, Carmy. I like them.” She tells him and he blushes as she starts to kiss over his knuckle tattoos. He shifts as he feels her tongue to trace the letters, and her lips kiss off the joints. 

“Syd…” he breathes softly, she grins and settles his hand back to her lap. She lives for the bright blush on his face, the way he nervously licks his lips and looks over the traffic in front of them.

“They are nice hands.” she comments when she sits back. He hums and clears his throat and Sydney’s moans a bit as he starts to play his hand under her shirt.

“Y’know I’m ambidextrous right?” he comments and Sydney raises an eyebrow.

“Forreal?” She asks and he nods. 

“Yeah, can do two things at once. Pretty good at it,” he tells her. Sure enough, using only one hand he undoes the button of her jeans. She gasps as sinks his hand into her pants then smoothly one arm turns the steering wheel with the other. 

“Oh...” Sydney breathes. She is forced to buck up over his fingers at his deliberate hard stop on the brakes for the next red light. She wraps her hands around his arm. Pressing the limb between her breasts, her eyes low and full of lusty excitement. Goosebumps prickle Carmy’s skin at the feel of her as he shifts her panties aside and starts to massages into the folds of her wet pussy. Snapping shiverings fucks over Sydney when Carmy press her clit to meet his palm as two of his nimble fingers sink further into her. 

“Fuck Syd, were you this damn needy all day? You’re fuckin sopping,” he hisses out. His own bulge appeared at the filthy moans puffing out of Sydney’s mouth with each backward pump of his slickening hand.

“Oh god, Carm-”

“Woulda bent you over the sink-”

“Shut the fuck up! Sh-shut..damn, righ-right there Carmen,” Sydney stutters.

Sydney clutches his arm closer, drawing him further into her, he slips another finger in. He licks his lips like a starving man when he looks down. The small glimpse of Sydney’s thigh opens to the air is glistening, her white panties are fucking transparent from how wet he has her. 

The fact that his own tattered hand was causing such a mess gets him rock hard. Her thighs snap down to squeeze his hand still, she’s trembling, her window slightly foggy from her horny gasps. Carmy flushes hard when she starts to dig her nails into his bicep with one sweet lay over her clit with his middle finger. Her pinky nail pierces a crest shape into the head of the ink angel on his arm as she muffles another curse into her curtain of braids.

“Aye-aye, none of that Syd. You want me in there. Shit! The fuckin’ nails-” He swears. He pinches her thigh making her yelp over her moan and spread apart again. She buck in time with his coaxing fingers now, whimpering when he becomes distracted in the light turning green and some fucking SUV honking behind them. Her hips chase his hand, as he eases up on pumping two digits into her in order to turn on his street. 

“Carm…Carmy please.” she pleads, the damn near echo in the car. Her thighs clenching over his hand again.  Carmy has to bite his lips in, hard. His dick achy at the sounds she makes at this point. The sound is fucking obscene, slick and wet as he forces his hand out the grip of her thighs. Her whimper at the loss of him is whiny and upset.

“Seriously?” She pants, all hot and bothered. Her eyes promising revenge for him stringing her along like that while in traffic. 

“Hold on, I just got to get us parked.” he offers in a flighty tone, he shifts in his seat. His pussy wet hand dragging at his belt to better settle his hard on. He faces them into the dead end behind his building. Private but nosy as fuck with the sound of the city.

It doesn’t fucking matter. 

The car is barely turned off before Camry jacks his seat back and undoes his belt. Sydney watches as he wipes her wetness over his nose and mouth, then slips his jeans down. His dick springs out. Sydney knew it was fucking insane to think of, but Carmy’s dick was just so, him . 

It wasn’t too long, but god it was fucking thick! Tan-ish, veiny and curved to the left.

Sydney shimies her jeans and panties down then climbs over the center console. Carmy helps her to his lap, staddling over his hips with her knees and she shivers as his dick lays overtop her pussy lips. He hisses when she grabs down and start to line the shaft up to her slit.

Both of them moaning in unison as he sinks her fully onto him. He grips her hip tightly and wraps his other arm around her back to push her closer. He buries his face in her chest, teeth biting on her tender breast as she gives a yelp that melts into a moan of his name. Her braids slap his shoulder as her head bows down and she start to ride him. He pumps up into her, strong arms sweaty and steady as the window fogs from their stamina. 

The seat creaks from the stress. The stanch fabric of his shirt barely saves him from her nails raking into the back of his shoulder. Her hands rack back up into the back of his head, gripping his hair. He winces and bounces her shallowly at it. She's learned he likes that pain, he gives it back with a echoing smack to her ass in rythm to the rocking of the car.  She sucks bruises onto the back of his neck to leave her mark instead. The idea of her leaving a mark on him, him red and sneaky trying to hide it around the kitchen the next day, it makes her pussy clench around him. He hitches with a hiss at the pleasure. 

"C'mon Syd, c'mon baby." He pants into her cleavage. He looks up at her with those piercing blues full of lust. He aches to cum in her. He tightly squeezes the meat of her ass to hold himself strong. He wanted to drag this fuck out. Sydney sighs, lips popping off his skin as she sinks to a sit to rest. Her thighs achy and pussy full. She moans into his face from it. 

The both just breath for a moment, her hands playing through the back of his hair making his eyes flutter. Carmy smoothly brushes his hand up her thigh, then between their laps. Syd gasp and slacks back against the steering wheel, lightly tapping the horn with the action. He used his fingers to massage her clit, keeping her wired up.

"Fuck you, Carmern." She stutters, she grips his hair so hard, she pinches the top of his ear. He hiss and drives forward, they smash into another kiss. Smacking French kisses, Carmy relishes in the taste of throaty moan and near-whine of his name Sydney release as she cums. Carmy wishes he could season everything destined to touch his tongue again with the taste of her lust. He wants her to cum again so he can feel it, he's greedy like that.

Sydney shakes over Carmy as her O rushes over her. Her head rests on his shoulder from it,  her braids splaying over the both of them. She puffs a laugh of disbelief at how wet his hand is when he takes it from her pussy. She feels it as he re-settles His hand to her hip.

"I'm achin' Syd, you gotta move" He says tightly. Sydney groans loudly. He rubs at her thigh impatiently, urging her to move before he burst and they do even more things they regret. 

"Then move me." She snaps and Carmy huffs. She swallows as he does so, lifing her with his hips before re gripping her hip and lifing her off his dick. The both shiver at the loss of connection and he half-sits her on his car console. She slumps back to the passenger seat fumbling to put her pants back on as he palms his dick a few times, before sliding up his own pants. 

The both walk wobbly to his apartment building, eager for more. Carmy barely close the door before Sydney is on her knees, unbuttoning his jeans. 

Taglists for the Moots🥰:

@blowmymbackout @kdoxkeic @godsfiercest @pantherxrogers @gingerylangylang1979 @beauspot @soufcakmistress

[chadfallout76podcast]

Major Update: Life...is a changing for me/us (and a sneak peek of Vault-Tec Rises!

Good afternoon!

I wanted to give you all an update on Vault-Tec Rises as well as an update on myself and some major life changes happening this year that may impact our season while the dust settles. Firstly, I'm more than halfway done with our next major feature length episode, "Vault-Tec Rises"...which is technically episode 16, set BEFORE Little Sanctuary of Horrors. It essentially is the story of how everyone came to be there in the first place, what Vault-Tec and the Enclave are really up to, and is the start of our last 4 episodes of the season as the Battle for Appalachia begins.

Secondly, I've shared quite a bit about the journey of these past 10 years with my husband Travis and his struggle with mental health. Many of you were kind of enough to support or share our GoFundMe to help take the pressure off the crushing debt we were under with mounting medical bills and his bills, none of which was covered by insurance fully. Trying to keep us afloat financially has been a long-term struggle of mine and here's in New Hampshire we just haven't been able to get ahead. After having to cancel some of his services last week as we couldn't afford them, we made some major decisions.

The next few months I'll be doing a lot of painting, landscaping, plastering and prepping to list our home on the market. Financially we can't afford to buy again for a while, so we're stuck renting. Based on what things are selling for in the area, I'm not too worried about getting out of it fairly quickly. We'll be moving to Texas, in between Dallas and Fort Worth in a really beautiful, new planned community where leasing and the overall lower cost of living will save us $20k a year which will allow us to not only fix our debt issue permanently, but also they have one of the leading centers in the country for C-PTSD. Once settled, I'd be able to get him more direct help he's needed that we just don't have access to out here.

Texas is going to be a big, big change for us...a huge move, but one I'm eager to make. Our backup editor is continuing to plug away at stories as well as I've had my hands full with work trying to keep the lights on (literally). I wanted to explain all of this with clear honesty so you know what I've been doing, what I'll be doing this year and why it often takes us so long to ship episodes to you. Your patient and support of me really, really means the world to me. The other benefit of this move is that once I'm not strangled hustling for work 7 days a week, I'll have more free time to actually create. Something I really want to do...as there are still two more seasons of Chad and some other projects I really want to share with you all.

I hope to have our 3-hour feature length Vault-Tec Rises completed in the next few weeks, so stay tuned. :) And if you can please excuse how hectic this year will be between selling and moving halfway across the country I'd appreciate it.

Much love to you all,

Ken

[shiorimakibawrites]

Idea: Sanctuary (Daredevil)

Last one, I promise. At least until the muses give me more ideas through I'm hoping they actually let me write finish something before piling more work on me.

Brainstorming notes where any feedback or suggestions are welcomed.

Warnings: Spoilers for The Defenders - Angst with eventual comfort - Medical inaccuracies - Beginning of Season 3 Matt.

Sanctuary

Matt Murdock / Daredevil x Reader

Possible Ch. Titles: John Doe – Where There Is Life – HIPPA Violation – Do No Harm – Confession

You are a doctor who works at small charity clinic.

One day, as you are heading home, you are stopped by Father Lantom.

Not sure how you know him – maybe you are Catholic and starting attending Mass after moving to NYC.

Father Lantom asks you for a favor. There is someone who needs a doctor but you can’t take him to a hospital or tell anyone about him.

This request gives you some misgivings but you trust the priest and figure that he wouldn’t be asking this of you if it wasn’t necessary or important. So you agree to his terms.

He takes you to where your patient is:

(1) Still in the St. Agnes as it was in canon but tucked away somewhere out of the way.

(2) In the basement since they seem to want to keep Matt’s presence a secret and keeping someone in a building full of kids isn’t how you keep them a secret.

John Doe is half-naked, unconscious, and badly hurt. He should be in a hospital but they are adamant about not taking him. You wonder who is this man is but Father Lantom and Sister Maggie claim not to really know, that they found him like that but you aren’t sure you believe them.

Maybe you have some kind of healing power – the power is relatively minor, you can boost someone’s natural healing ability – cannot instantly and completely heal someone’s wounds or illnesses but you can heal enough to turn a deadly injury into a survivable one. Lessen the recovery time – you heal in one week instead of two.

There is some cost to your healing power – (1) takes energy (2) have to know exactly what you are doing to avoid more harm than than good (3) you can feel your patient’s pain while healing them (4) some combination thereof.

Despite efforts to keep things secret, you learn some things about your patient. He had been injured before but got medical treatment of varying degrees of quality (no shade on Claire, sometimes Matt does his own stitches) – that he was blind – seems to have sensitive skin – stuff from nightmares and mumblings when he is feverish (apologizing to various people – Dad, Elektra, Foggy, Karen, Stick . . .).

You also notice the man is very handsome.

You try to figure out which of the two people missing from the Midland Circle your patient is – attorney Matt Murdock or the vigilante Daredevil. Daredevil fits with the muscular body, the scars, and the insistence that he not go to hospital. Matt Murdock fits with the blindness but you struggle to think of why Matt Murdock cannot go to a hospital.

John Doe (Matt) isn’t exactly cooperative with unraveling the mystery when he walks up but not uncooperative either – sometimes he doesn’t seem to care if you know who he is, other times he does – you think its part of his depression.

Because yes, Matt when he wakes up is the same cheerful person we saw in the beginning of Season 3 (obvious sarcasm is obvious).

Matt needs SO MUCH therapy – physical and psychological. Neither of which is your specialty but you doubted that you could bring either in on this . . . maybe you have friends who are a physical therapist and a psychiatrist or psychologist whose brains you can pick. They will probably eventually get curious about your questions.

Maybe they discover things and become part of the team. Again, nothing against Claire but she might need some help with patching up vigilantes – if for no other reason, she cannot be everywhere. Also as a doctor, you can write prescriptions for things like antibiotics (given how often he lands in dumpsters, it is amazing that Matt hasn’t gotten an infection yet).

At some point, you move Matt from the church to your place.

Romance is slow burn.

[littlesparklight]

Timeline of the Epic Cycle I

Chopping this up in two (and skipping the Iliad parts, I only made that writeup for myself so I could keep track of the number of days/which books they happened in anyway lol), for those of you who might be interested!

My own ordering of matters, of course; some notes at the bottom under a cut.

-5 The judgement in (very) early spring; Paris goes to Sparta early in the sailing season, spring Paris and Helen sail around the eastern Mediterranean for a bit, while Agamemnon and Menelaos starts gathering the suitors. -4 Late spring Achilles gets found out after having been put in hiding on Skyros for a year by his mother. They gather at Aulis mid-summer the year after for the ill-fated omen spelling out how long the war will last, they sail for Troy, but mistake Teuthrania in Mysia for Troy and attack it, Telephos defends it, is injured by Achilles but otherwise routes the Achaeans, who finally realize this isn't Troy. They leave, and fleet scattered by storm. Achilles takes his ships to Skyros after the storm since Peleus had asked them to suppress the rebellion there, the Skyrians are Dolopians and thus technically under Peleus/Phoenix's authority. After an initial battle, Lykomedes bends and gives his daughter Deidamia in marriage to Achilles as a symbol of his/his father's authority. Neoptolemos is born only shortly after the marriage. As the commanders limp their way home and regroup, it's decided to use this time to more properly prepare. [Odysseus decides he's very much NOT going a second time, probably insert the prophecy mentioned in the Odyssey here, but not earlier, as additional reason, and starts planning for how to make sure it doesn't happen.]

0 Rounding up the leaders again, early-mid spring; Odysseus' madness. [Telephos comes to Mycenae for his healing and promises to lead them to Troy], Agamemnon's insult to Artemis as they've gathered at Aulis, this lasts for ~three weeks before Iphigenia is sent for; sacrifice of Iphigenia (Artemis takes her to Tauris). Late spring, they sail for Troy. Reaching Tenedos, attacking it, Achilles kills Tennes. They have a sacrifice to Apollo at his main sanctuary on the island, with a feast, Achilles is invited/comes late, and they start without him. Philoctetes is bit by the snake during that sacrifice. Cycnus gathers a force and goes to Troy to warn the city when he sees Tenedos burning. The Achaeans leave for the Trojan shore, the landing is messy (Protesilaos on the Achaean side and Cycnus on the Trojan are killed); the Trojans retreat into the city and the Achaeans gather to send an envoy to Troy, which fails.

0-9 raids and attacks on the surrounding countryside and coast all up and down Asia Minor/Thrace, all the way down to Caria and the islands nearest to the coast. A couple attempts at storming Troy fail, while the Trojans mostly stay in the city without engaging, or only close to the walls. 1-2 Famine as the initial resources dry up and the Trojans are still doing fine. Odysseus, trying to gather grain from Thrace, fails [because most Thracians are at least passive allies of Troy], Palamedes suggests/brings up the daughters of Anius to Agamemnon, who agrees, so Palamedes, Menelaos and Odysseus goes to Delos. Perhaps Odysseus' persuasiveness fails, and it's Palamedes and Menelaos who manage to convince Anius, to add further "insult"? 2 Epipole found out by Palamedes, stoned to death by the Achaeans. 3 Palamedes' murder, the Oinotropoi taken charge of by Agamemnon. 4 Troilus is murdered by Achilles. 5 The Oinotropoi "escape" by being turned into birds. [This leads to more heavier and wide-ranging sacking as the Achaeans now have to rely on outside sources of foodstuff aside from meat, which, as long/soon as they have a breeding stock and feed/grazing for them, can be maintained in camp.] 5 As a result of the above, Achilles drives off the cattle of Aeneas by approaching Ida from the south coast. He kills Priam's son Mestor during this. Chases Aeneas to Lyrnessos; Lyrnessos and Pedasos are sacked, Briseis' family and husband killed, she's given to Achilles. Aeneas gets away, however. 6 (early) Achilles wishes to see Helen, as this thing is dragging (though he knows about the reading of the snake and sparrows omen, of course) and wishes to know if she's truly worth it. He then restrains the restless mass of the army into staying. [7 Dardanos is attacked and sacked, driving the survivors and the Dardanian branch of the royal family to Troy?] 7 Lykaon taken while he's out at night to get supplies for a new chariot and sold on Lemnos as a slave (he's given back to Priam years later, coming home only twelve days before his death (during the days the Achaeans/Achilles is waiting for the gods to return)). 8 (mid-early) Thebe Hypoplakia is sacked (completely unprepared, as Andromache's brothers are out tending their herds and a sacrifice to Artemis is being held, the one Chryseis is attending (suggested by Anderson in The Fall of Troy in Early Greek Poetry and Art), Chryseis is given to Agammemnon. Andromache's mother taken but ransomed to Troy and then sent onwards to her father, where she dies of sickness sometime before the main action in the Iliad. 8-9 (late eight, early ninth); the majority of Trojan allies arrive, most of those coming from outside the Troad.

Almost all the details for these nine years are just elaborated details from the fragments of the Cypria, or scholia attached to it.

-I've chosen to add five years; at the very least I think you need two (in that case probably making the first, mistaken attack an impulsive and quickly put-together affair very shortly after Paris and Helen have come to Troy), so there can be proper preparations. The Bibliotheke, undoubtedly following a general and earlier tradition, goes with Helen's "it's been twenty years" and inserts ten. It then puts the first muster and the attack on Teuthrania two years after Helen's abduction; the Achaeans do not gather again until eight years later after being scattered by the storm.

-to adjust for the extra years, Odysseus' feigned madness thus comes before second muster, instead of the first. Both because it makes better sense (knowledge of the ten-year duration of the war, that at least some gods are against them given that storm/hitting the wrong city, the prophecy he gets given in Ithaka), and because Telemachus must of course be born closer to the second muster than the first, given the years passed/his age at the end.

-The Achilles-Skyros episodes are based on the Iliad's mention of him sacking/attacking it, plus a tradition that gave a reason as to why this would've happened. The aborted attack by Lykomedes surrendering and officially marrying Deidamia to Achilles in the aftermath is my own arrangement. In the Bibliotheke, Achilles is 15 at the first muster.

-In the Kypria, the Achaeans sack Tenedos and land on Troy's shores before they send an embassy. The Bibliotheke, if the phrasing of the section preserves the meaning of the fuller account better, have the Achaeans send the embassy from Tenedos itself. Only very late versions have the embassy being sent before even the first muster.

-The famine subplot is as old as the lost epics, at least; one of the ways Palamedes is murdered is while he's out on a fishing expedition with Odysseus and Diomedes (fishing being something you "only" did in starvation conditions lol), for example. The daughters of Anius magically provide food for the army at least for part of the length of the ten years, and it's specifically not Odysseus who manages to get them to the Achaeans' camp at Troy. Usually Palamedes' murder is imagined relatively early, in some variants even earlier than this, but to work with the famine subplot and the girls, I've put it here.

-the way the war has been waged in the nine years up to the Iliad has mostly been taken from mentions in the Iliad (though there they seem to imagine the Trojans still fighting on the ground, just next to the walls), with some elaborations as seemed logical.

-I inserted an attack/sacking of the city of Dardanos, since it seemed logical to move Aeneas' family from there (as his great-grandfather was king of the place) to Troy at some point during the war. Dardanos has been imagined as both being on the coast (later versions, based on a real city of Dardanos) and in the foothills of Mount Ida (earlier versions).

-In the Bibliotheke, the allies turn up in the last year of the war. This seems to be ALL of them; I decided to cut it down to those who are coming from further away than the Troad itself. It seems logical to me that those in the actual country would gather around Troy throughout the nine years, if one does go with a late appearance of the other allies.

[wolfish-nightmares]

Game of Survival

Pairings: The Group x fem!reader

Era: Season 1-11

Warnings: TWD gore and violence. Bad language. 18+

Category: Fluff. Angst.

Word Count:

Summary: With no other choice, you must learn to play this new game of survival. 

Prologue

Season 1: 

1x1 - Days Gone Bye 1x3 - Tell It to the Frogs 1x4 - Vatos 1x5 - Wildfire 1x6 - TS-19

Season 2:

2x1 - What Lies Ahead 2x2 - Bloodletting  2x3 - Save the Last One 2x4 - Cherokee Rose 2x5 - Chupacabra  2x6 - Secrets 2x7 - Pretty Much 2x8 - Nebraska 2x9 - Triggerfinger  2x10 - 18 Miles Out 2x11 - Judge, Jury, Executioner  2x12 - Better Angels 2x13 - Beside the Dying Fire 

Season 3: 

3x1 - Seed 3x2 - Sick 3x3 - Walk With Me 3x4 - Killer Within 3x5 - Say the Word  3x6 - Hounded  3x7 - When the Dead Come Knocking 3x8 - Made to Suffer  3x9 - The Suicide King 3x10 - Home 3x11 - I Ain’t Judas 3x12 - Clear 3x13 - Arrow on the Doorpost 3x14 - Prey 3x15 - This Sorrowful Life 3x16 - Welcome to the Tombs

Season: 4

4x1 - 30 Days Without an Accident 4x2 - Infected 4x3 - Isolation 4x4 - Indifference  4x5 - Internment 4x6 - Live Bait 4x7 - Dead Weight 4x8 - Too Far Gone 4x9 - After 4x10 - Inmates 4x11 - Claimed 4x12 - Still 4x13 - Alone 4x14 - The Grove 4x15 - Us 4x16 - A

Season 5: 

5x1 - No Sanctuary  5x2 - Strangers 5x3 - Four Walls and a Roof 5x4 - Slabtown 5x6 - Self Help 5x7 - Consumed 5x8 - Coda 5x9 - What Happened and What’s Going On 5x10 - Them 5x11 - The Distance  5x12 - Remember  5x13 - Forget 5x14 - Spend 5x15 - Try 5x16 - Conquer 

Season 6: 

6x1 - First Time Again  6x2 - JSS 6x3 - Thank You 6x4 - Here’s Not Here 6x5 - Now 6x6 - Always Accountable  6x7 - Heads Up 6x8 - Start to FInish 6x9 - No Way Out 6x10 - The Next World 6x11 - Knots Untie 6x12 - Not Tomorrow Yet 6x13- The Same Boat 6x14 - Twice As Far 6x15 - East  6x16 - Last Day on Earth 

Season 7: 

7x1 - The Day Will Come When You Won’t Be 7x2 - The Well 7x3 - The Cell 7x4 - Service 7x5 - Go Getter  7x6 - Swear 7x7 - Sing Me a Song 7x8 - Hearts Still Beating 7x9 - Rock in the Road 7x10 - New Best Friends 7x11 - Hostiles and Calamities  7x12 - Say Yes 7x13 - Bury Me Here 7x14 - The Other Side  7x15 - Something They Need 7x16 - The First Day of the Rest of Your Life 

Season 8: 

8x1 - Mercy 8x2 - The Damned  8x3 - Monsters 8x4 - Some Guy  8x5 - The Big Scary U 8x6 - The King, the Widow, and Rick 8x7 - Time for After  8x8 - How It’s Gotta Be 8x9 - Honor 8x10 - The Lost and the Plunderers  8x11 - Dead or Alive Or 8x12 - The Key 8x13 - Do Not Send Us Astray  8x14 - Still Gotta Mean Something 8x15 - Worth  8x16 - Wrath

Season 9: 

9x1 - A New Beginning 9x2 - The Bridge 9x3 - Warning Signs 9x4 - The Obliged 9x5 - What Comes After 9x6 - Who Are You Now? 9x7 - Stradivarius 9x8 - Evolution 9x9 - Adaptation 9x10 - Omega 9x11 - Bounty 9x12 - Guardians 9x13 - Chokepoint 9x14 - Scars 9x15 - The Calm Before 9x16 - The Storm

Season 10: 

10x0 - Holiday Special 10x1 - Lines We Cross 10x2 - We Are the End of the World 10x3 - Ghost 10x4 - Silence the Whisperers 10x5 - What It Always Is 10x6 - Bonds 10x7 - Open Your Eyes 10x8 - The World Before 10x9 - Squeeze 10x10 - Stalker 10x11 - Morning Star 10x12 - Walk with Us 10x13 - What We Become 10x14 - Look at the Flowers 10x15 - The Tower 10x16 - A Certain Doom 10x17 - Home Sweet Home 10x18 - Find Me 10x19 - One More 10x20 - Splinter 10x21 - Diverged 10x22 - Here's Negan

Season 11: 

11x1 - Acheron: Part 1 11x2 - Acheron: Part 2 11x3 - Hunted 11x4 - Rendition 11x5 - Out of the Ashes 11x6 - On the Inside 11x7 - Promises Broken 11x8 - For Blood 11x9 - No Other Way 11x10 - New Haunts 11x11 - Rogue Element 11x12 - The Lucky Ones 11x13 - Warlords 11x14 - The Rotten Core 11x15 - Trust 11x16 - Acts of God 11x17 - Lockdown 11x18 - A New Deal 11x19 - Variant 11x20 - What's Been Lost 11x21 - Outpost 22

[burnwater13]

Grogu standing on the ground within the krill farming collective on Sorgan while the children around him throw him krill to chase and eat. Image from The Mandalorian, Season 1, Episode 4, Sanctuary. Calendar from DataWorks.

Grogu was surprised when he looked at the calendar and realized that it had been almost a year since he and his dad had been on Sorgan. He wondered if he could talk the bounty hunter into going back for a visit. You know. For old time’s sake? Maybe? 

If that didn’t work he’d ask if they could make a food run. He’d been really craving those blue krill. Every time he turned around someone was drinking spotchka and he actually knew where it was made and who made it. They should go back and see how Sorgan was thriving after helping them get rid of those Klatooinian Raiders. Right?

He had enjoyed the small amount of time they had spent there. The kids were a lot of fun. The adults didn’t care how many frogs or krill he ate. There were lots of ponds to hang out near, because that’s where the frogs and the krill were. He even remembered the lady at the tavern who was so kind to them. It was nice to have new memories that were so filled with fondness and humor. Even watching his Dad and Marshal Dune ‘meet’ each other for the first time was a funny memory that Grogu enjoyed revisiting.

He decided to spend the day sketching scenes that he recalled from the time they were there. Sketching Winta with her mom was easy. The tavern keeper scolding the mean Loth cat had been sweet revenge (the Loth cat was slinking away with its tail between its legs). The overview of the krill farming collective was complicated and really challenged him, but he was satisfied that he got the round houses and the layout of the trapezoidal ponds correct, which was important to him. He found the sketch of him eating the frog the most challenging. 

He tried just doing it without looking in a mirror or in his case, the shiny surface of the thigh protector his had removed from his second layer to clean and polish. Grogu had thought his dad was imagining the dirt on the beskar until he got too frustrated with drawing himself without looking at himself. Then he took the thigh protector from his dad’s work bench and propped it up against a the window in the front room because he was sitting at the table they did everything at to sketch. 

That was a disappointment for a whole variety of reasons. First and foremost was the utter lack of good light for sketching, because now he was blocking it with the armor. Then, when he propped the thigh protector against the back of his dad’s chair and the edge of the table, he had better light, except that now he was creating a shadow over his sketch pad. Uff. Then he moved the things until he had the right light and no shadows on his paper and the thigh protector was secure.

(Uff, you could only drop it so many times before a Mandalorian got suspicious and walked out of the fresher in just a towel and a helmet to find out what was making that sort of racket! Grogu had fixed things quickly and told his dad it must have been a steelpecker dropping stuff at the landfill. Grogu was glad that his dad bought that explanation and went back to finish his shower. Suds had started dripping down from under the Mandalorian’s helmet and the only person who was going to get in trouble for that was Grogu.)

Once he had everything the way he wanted it, Grogu was faced with another stumbling block. He didn’t really look like that, did he? Huge ears. Giant bulging eyes. A practically non-existent chin. And he was so… so… round! When he looked down at himself he saw a lean, not a bit of fat on him, Jedi, with the serious look that all Mandalorians wore under their helmets. But not this guy! This guy had a grin that stretched forever. How the heck could he look like that! People said that when you did a self portrait you had to be prepared for both the good and the bad. They didn’t say, ‘Hey, kid! It’s all bad. Don’t do it! It will break your heart!’. 

Grogu was about to put everything away, he was so annoyed at the image he saw, when he dad came over to see what he was up to.

“That’s where that thigh protector got to. Buddy, you can’t use this as a mirror. It’s curved and dirty. It’s going to distort everything. I have a small mirror you can use. I’ll get it for you and you won’t need to drop my armor on the floor again.”

Dank Farrik! Mandalorians knew everything! Or was that just a dad thing? Grogu didn’t know, but he appreciated his dad bringing him the mirror and he promised to help him with cleaning the armor since dropping it on the floor hadn’t made it any cleaner. 

“That’s okay, pal. Use this instead and we’ll call it even.” His dad was chuckling when he handed Grogu the mirror. Grogu looked at his hands as he adjusted it and realized that his dad just didn’t want all the charcoal dust to get on any more of his armor. Very funny. 

Grogu took a deep breath and looked into the mirror. He let his eyes really see the image presented. The skin tone. The shape of his nose. The tiny white hairs that populated his head and his ears (to some extent) and the round, slightly greenish-pink, pinkish-green cheeks that the librarian at the the Jedi Temple had pinched so often. He let his breath out slowly and began to sketch. 

He went slow, took breaks, and continued to use deep breaths and long, long soft sighs to help keep him calm and centered. It was important to find the joy in the thing you were doing when you were doing it according to Master Beq. Grogu knew his teacher was correct when he finally finished the sketch. It was a thing of beauty. The proportions and scale and contours were perfect. The composition was exactly as it should be. The details! Oh, the details had been so hard to get just right, but he’d used the Force to help him search for those memories and study them carefully so he would do that memory justice. 

When he was done he put done his tools and sat back and just admired what he’d accomplished. It was a masterpiece and he wasn’t too humble to admit that it was his best work to date. It made him very happy. 

“That’s what you were sketching? The time on Sorgan when you had the frog in your mouth and the kids were all screaming about it?”

“Yup.” Grogu was very proud of that moment as any Jedi would have been. A Mandalorian would never understand how to eat frogs properly.

[sarcasticsciencefictionwriter]

Twenty Questions for Fic Writers

Tagged by @zeldamacgregor thank you so much!

1.How many works do you have on ao3?

One hundred and seven.

2. What's your total ao3 word count?

553,867

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Sanctuary and Stargate SG-1.

4. Top five by kudos

Commute - 87 (SG-1, Sam/Jack)

In-between - 72 (SG-1, Sam/Jack)

One Snowy Day - 66 (SG-1, Sam/Jack)

Two Kinds of Sparks - 62 (SG-1, Sam/Jack)

One Rainy Day - 60 (SG-1, Sam/Jack)

There is a definite pattern here.

5. Do you respond to comments?

Yes! Except when someone was being a jerk to me, I ignored them once or twice.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Oh, man, I have no idea. The Last of the Tau'ri was pretty bleak and angsty, especially since I was evil enough to make it a one-shot.

7. What is the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

No clue on this one either, 'happy' ending aren't my strong suit.

Happiness is an emotion, not a state of being.

I have sweet endings, but I'm not sure I have 'happy' ones? I can't answer this question in any way that satisfies me.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Other than the one idiot that was correcting me on their version canon, nope.

9. Do you write smut?

No. I can't say I ever won't, but at the moment I'm not in a headspace where I feel comfortable doing it.

Let's just say if I want that in my fics, I'm probably going to have to ask someone else in the fandom to right that chapter or an accompanying scene fic for me. 😂

10. Craziest crossover?

Ohhh, I have no idea, I don't think I've gone insane yet.

My upcoming Encanto + Sanctuary is going to take the cake for the moment.

One that actually exists? Howl's Moving Castle + Sanctuary.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not to my knowledge.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Sort of got two in the works. 😉

And started one with @tina-mairin-goldstein but I haven't committed as fully as I should. (In my defense, I haven't seen the season of Supernatural it would take place in and Hannibal is....not my favorite thing).

14. All time favorite ship?

Helen/John from Sanctuary.

(I can feel the respect the Sanctuary community has for me draining away, especially when my most popular Sanctuary fic is Teslen.😂)

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

I'm determined to finish all of the SG-1 and Sanctuary ones!

The ones I won't finish, I have actively chosen not to finish. I quit writing Fantastic Beasts and I have no plans to further associate myself with/in the fandom.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Foreshadowing and emotions, I think.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Description.

Fluff is also hard because from my view it doesn't seem fluffy, but that's just perspective of author, I suppose.

18. Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

I'd do it more if I had more confidence in being able to do it correctly.

For now, I just sprinkle in a couple words.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Warriors cats before I knew what fanfiction was, Fantastic Beasts once I did.

20. Favorite fic you've written so far?

Enigmatic Confections and The Abnormal X-File. Can't choose between.

No pressure tagging: @tinknevertalks, @chartreuseian, @theleotorrio, @ladyelysandra, @romanaisalive

[thornfield13713]

So, why did your Fallout 4 character join the factions she has?

Okay. At this moment, I am only a member of the Minutemen and Railroad. I may end up joining the Brotherhood to get Danse's personal quest, because that sounds like a fun one, but I haven't yet, and I'm still figuring out what the motives are for that one.

But for the factions Georgia is a part of now...

The Minutemen were...she joined for a few reasons. One of them being that being part of a group was safer than being alone. But there's more to it than that. Yes, Georgia wants to get her kid back. But once she has him back, she needs somewhere to take him. She needs a place where she can raise her child in relative safety. And- the thing is, when I think about safety, what I think about is game theory, and the idea which has informed so much of my political praxis and thinking, which is this: nobody is safe, unless everybody is safe. Safety is always and only ever a matter of degree, but the safer everybody is, the safer any individual person is. Sure, she could try and live a quiet life with Shaun in Sanctuary, or in some other settlement since Sanctuary is too raw. But then there are all the ordinary threats of the Wasteland - there's raiders, ferals, Super Mutants, other people just being dicks, there's famines and crop blights and contaminated water. She can't protect him from these things if she keeps thinking small. Which means that, in order for her son to have any kind of life with her, she needs to make sure the world is as safe as it can be, and that means not just safe for her and hers. There's a Pratchett quote that works for this too. It comes from Monstrous Regiment, an underrated favourite of mine, and it comes at the very end of the book:

'The Duchess was smaller than she’d thought. But if you had to protect it by standing in the doorway with a sword, you were too late. Caring for small things had to start with caring for big things, and maybe the world wasn’t big enough.'

The Minutemen seem like her best shot at that, even if there's only two of them. The best path to safety is a path that allows safety for everyone, because little as anyone likes to admit it, we are all a part of 'everyone', and bad luck can happen to anyone.

The Railroad- she seeks out the Railroad because they're against the Institute, and she figures they'll help her go after Kellogg. I'm having her delay that attack because she's not sure she can win - she's one lawyer with a gun she's not all that great with, going up against a seasoned mercenary. She needs help, and a lot of it, if she's going to face down a threat like that, so she spends most of act one trying to put together a crew that can help her do what she needs to. She doesn't exactly find that at the Railroad, but she finds allies, nonetheless. And also- the best friend she's made in this world is a synth, and she picked up very early on that the things people were saying about synths were often, word-for-word, the same shit people used to say about the Chinese back in her day. And she was sceptical enough about that even before her secretary got dragged off to an internment camp and there was nothing Georgia could do to get her out. Fighting for civil rights has been most of Georgia's life's work, and joining the Railroad felt like getting something back that had been carved out of her the day that her firm was forced to close its doors.

[galactic-pirates]

@tinknevertalks thanks for the tag :) I know you also tagged me on the WIP poll post but as I don't really have any fanfic WIPs I wasn't sure how to do that one. I did appreciate it though. I always get a warm awww when someone thinks enough of me to tag, so thank you.

Anyway!

Rules: Pick any ten of your fics, scroll roughly to the midpoint, pick a line (or three) and share it. Then tag ten people.

I think I'll do my last 10 posted on AO3? That seems reasonable. So in reverse order (most recently posted at #1)

1) Somewhere to Belong (Star Trek: Picard, Seven/Raffi)

“Insubordination.” Raffi snorted. “Picard does bring that out in people. Although really… Seven…” she sighed.

2) Time Will Tell (Sanctuary, James/John/Helen)

“I take it the two of you have finally decided to stop dancing around one another,” Helen noted dryly.

3) We Belong to the Future (The Librarians, Eve/Flynn)

“Thirty years we travelled, somewhere new every week. I barely noticed beyond the season change. I didn’t count the years. Well I suppose I did but not…” Charlene trailed off, shaking her head. “It’s all different. The world has changed around us, but we’re still the same.”

4) Odyssey: Future's Legacy (Sanctuary/Warehouse 13, James/John/Helen, Myka/HG, Artie/MacPherson)

“Hey, Artie,” Claudia answered. “Yeah, we’re almost done here, I think Fang-boy just found it.” Nikola twisted to glare at her. He accepted such indignities from the wolf-boy, as they traded such things, but really? And he had thought Claudia respected him. He stalked forward, aware that his demeanour was probably like that of an offended cat, Nigel used to roast him for it. Nikola didn’t usually think of Nigel much, he had been dead over six decades, but the case, centering around the griffins as it did, was conjuring up many old memories of Griffin. It was a shame he hadn’t lived to see his namesake.

5) Dancing on Broken Glass (Star Trek: Picard, Seven/Raffi)

Seven set her mouth in a firm line. It felt incongruous to keep dancing like there was nothing wrong, when suddenly everything felt wrong between them. The mood had changed from flirty to unhappy tension in the blink of an eye. Suddenly Seven realised that the tension wasn’t just stemming from them.

6) Celebrate the Day (Sanctuary)

Every Christmas after that for the next few years they’d built Lego decorations. It had been the tradition of their childhood. Helen had felt a pang the year they’d stopped. Henry had reached the age where he was old enough to start building anything he wanted for real, and Ashley had been so eager to grow up and leave toys behind her. Now the tradition was passed to the next generation.

7) Gentleman of Blood (Sanctuary, James/John/Helen)

“War is coming,” James commented, with terrifying certainty. Helen sighed. “I wish you would stop saying that, James.” James turned to look at her, his eyes flickering to John behind her, and then back to meet her eyes. “I wish it weren’t true, darling,” he said apologetically. “But Europe is a powder keg. It’s only a matter of time, and with these investments Worth stood to make a fortune when it happened.”

8) Focused Avoidance (Warehouse 13, Artie/MacPherson)

He’d tried warning Myka, he’d even referenced James directly, but she hadn’t seen the obvious parallel and he hadn’t elaborated. An agent had to trust their partner. Artie had trusted MacPherson with his very soul and had been burned - rather literally if you took into account the Phoenix artifact. Perhaps because of what had happened with James, Artie had picked up the sparks between Myka and the thrice-damned HG Wells almost from the start, almost certainly before anyone else bar Mrs Frederic of course.

9) The Tragic Tail (Sanctuary, Helen/James)

“It’s April 14th,” Helen murmured. That meant nothing to James but his gut clenched. It meant something to Helen and there was a catch in her voice, something that told him that very soon it would mean a lot to him.

10) It takes little effort to watch a man carry a load (Sanctuary, James/John)

James shook his head. “No. I’m quite sure John killed those poor women but the real question is why. Don’t you see, Nikola?” James pleaded. “There has to be a reason. John would never have done… that on his own. I will find out what happened, and I will save him from it, if it’s the last thing I do.”

I don't think I know 10 people well enough to tag sadly. So tagging @purlturtle, @sarcasticsciencefictionwriter, @rinari7, @enterprise-come-in and @ussjellyfish and of course anyone who wants to do it :)

[buttered-baguette-writes]

Day 4: Baking

Newt walked into his own home – not the one he told the Ministry he lived in, or Nurmengard castle – but his home, to find the Dark Lord busy in his kitchen.

Grindelwald was wearing an atrociously pink and frilly apron proudly as he added the final decorations to a cake via a piping tube. Apart from the small counterspace where three different baked goods where displayed, the rest of the kitchen was in a state of chaos. Batter and empty balls lined the counter while Newt really hoped that he didn’t see batter on one of his upper cupboards.

Newt waited until the blonde had finished his work before making his presence known. The blonde had just set the piping tube down and put his hands on his hips when he heard Newt call out, “Gellert?”

Gellert jumped like a cat. “Newton!” He exclaimed before recomposing himself. “Surprise, Liebling.”

Newt wandered past the kitchen archway. He only recognised one of the treats on the counter. “How long have you been here?” Newt asked, smiling warmly as he wiped flour from the other man’s cheek softly.

“Since the morning,” he replied, a faint pink tinge taking over his cheeks. “My speciality is a few dishes, mi amor, not baking.”

“And yet you did all this?”

“I had some help,” Grindelwald admitted, eyes flittering over to a recipe book.

An awfully familiar and very muggle baking recipe book. “You called Jacob?!”

Gellert affectionately laughed at his partner’s excitement. “Yes,” he confirmed. “He and Queenie didn’t leave until they were sure I would get it right.”

“They’re lovely for that,” Newt said. His smile did start to fade when he realised that they had, in fact, left. “Have they gone back to New York?”

“They’re at a hotel nearby,” Gellert said. Checking that he had nothing on his hands, he removed the apron, hands instantly reaching for the red heads waist. He brought them closer together, their noses almost bumping.

Newt’s own hands came to rest on Gellert’s shoulder, playing with the golden coils of hair. He loved when the people he cared about got along. He adored and cherished every time he got to see the Dark Lord be domestic, sweet, and caring. It would never get tiring to see.

Glancing back at the baked goods, Newt’s eyes sparkled with curiosity. “Why did you make these?”

“Well, for one,” Gellert started, mismatched eyes staring directly into green ones. “Today is the date your dragon sanctuary was up and running, successfully.

“Two, it is only fit that you have your favourite festive treat during the holiday season. Und drei, simply because I wanted to make something nice for you that you can have with your tea.” He finished with a quick peck to the lips.

Newt leant in for another kiss, longer but still sweet and soft and full of emotion. “Thank you,” he whispered against the blondes’ lips, unable to help the smile and blush combo that took over his features. “I’ll help you clean up.”

They shared one last kiss before separating to conquer the mess that was their kitchen. Newt didn’t mind. He got delicious food out of it and a partner that continued to make him fall in love even further every day.

~~~~

Day 3 /// Day 5

[lovelymary]

Let Me Be Your Sanctuary

A/N: Just a little Sonny and Lisa ficlet. Set during the time they are back together in season 4.

Lisa cursed under her breath when she accidentally knocked over her gym bag as she made her way to the dresser to grab her headphones. Sonny was still asleep and she didn’t want to wake him. They’d just come back from a particularly grueling spin up where the boys had been put through the wringer and he needed the rest. She slowly turned around to look at the bed and prayed that he was still sleeping. To her dismay, Sonny had started to stir and it wasn’t long before he reached over to her now empty side of the bed.

“Hey, what are you doing all the way over there?” he asked, looking over at her with sleep-laden eyes.

She walked over to him and sat on the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry, babe. I didn’t mean to wake you,” she ran her fingers through his messy bed head and leaned down to give him a quick kiss.

“Why are you up so early? Everything okay?” He sat up a little, running his hand lightly across her back.

“Yeah. I, uh, was just going to go out for a run. You should go back to sleep.” She tried to stand up but he wrapped his arm around her waist holding her in place and sat up a little straighter behind her.

“Lisa, I know you’re not a morning person, so if you’re up this early to go for a run, it’s probably because you’re hoping to clear your head of whatever it is that’s making you restless. So, what’s going on?”

She sighed a little and leaned her head back onto his shoulder. He knew her too well.

“You know, you are way too observant for your own good,” she said, turning her head a little to look at him.

“Yeah, well I’m a tier one operator, it’s part of the job description,” he quipped back and asked her again, “What’s eating at you?”

“It’s nothing…just…today,” she admitted quietly with a small shrug, looking down at her hands.

Sonny’s brow furrowed as he tried to remember what day it was and what about today had Lisa so unsettled. Then it suddenly dawned on him, the fire. Today was the anniversary of the fire that killed her sister Michelle.

“Lisa, darlin’, I’m so sorry,” he whispered, giving her a soft kiss on the cheek. “Is there anything I can do?”

“It’s okay. I’m fine, really” she reassured him. “I’m just sad, I think. I don’t know, it’s hard to explain.”

She couldn’t quite put into words exactly what she was feeling. For years, she had been consumed with guilt over not being able to save Michelle. She’d constantly replay every minute of that night, thinking about what she could have done differently to save both Ronnie and Michelle. She’d eventually accepted that she wasn’t responsible for Michelle’s death, but knowing that in her mind and feeling it in her heart were two very different things. It was especially difficult on days like today. She’d woken up just after dawn following a fitful night’s sleep, overcome by a feeling of melancholy.

Sonny soothingly ran his hand up and down her back as he quietly waited for her to continue. He knew this wasn’t something that was easy for her to talk about and he wasn’t going to rush her.

“I lost them both that night,” she acknowledged sadly. Even though she’d saved Ronnie from the fire, losing Michelle had ultimately cost her her relationship with the one sister she had left.

“I thought you and Ronnie were working things out,” Sonny finally interjected.

“We’ve been trying to,” Lisa conceded. “But, I don’t know, there’s still this underlying awkwardness and distance that we just can’t seem to shake. I mean Ronnie’s moved on, she has a whole other life and family that doesn’t include me. I guess on some level, we both do and no matter how hard we try, we just can’t seem to bridge that gap.”

“You probably just need to give it some time. I mean Emmitt and I patched things up, but that don’t mean that things don’t still get a little rocky between us sometimes. It’s a work in progress. You’ll get there.”

“Yeah, maybe,” she conceded. “But honestly, I’m not so sure anymore. What if cutting me out of her life was the only way for Ronnie to be able to really move on? After all, I’m a living and breathing reminder of everything that happened that night.”

“Lisa, look at me,” Sonny said in a soft but stern voice. He waited for her to turn her head towards him and lifted her chin up so that she could look into his eyes as he spoke. “What happened that night was not your fault. You hear me? What happened to Michelle was a tragedy but it wasn’t your fault. You were just a kid and you did the best you could. You saved Ronnie’s life.”

Lisa couldn’t help he tears that sprung to her eyes at Sonny’s words. She leaned back into his embrace as Sonny wrapped his arms around her from behind. She closed her eyes for a second and drew strength from the comfort she always found in Sonny’s arms.

“I know what happened to Michelle wasn’t my fault and Ronnie probably knows that too on some level,” she continued softly, “but I think it’s just different for her, you know. Ronnie and Michelle were so close, they did everything together, they were best friends, two peas in a pod. I mean they were barely a year apart in age, they were practically twins.”

“They were Irish twins,” Sonny chimed in, causing Lisa to turn back a little and look at him with amused bewilderment.

“What?”

“When babies are born less than a year apart, they’re called Irish twins,” he explained.

“Yeah, I know that,” Lisa giggled a little in spite of herself. “I’m just surprised you know that.”

“I happen to know a lot of things, actually. I’ll have you know Sonny Quinn’s mind is a treasure trove of knowledge.”

“Oh I’m sure it is,” Lisa agreed, shaking her head slightly. “God, I love you.” She tilted her head back and placed her palm on his cheek, bringing him in close for a kiss. Sonny always seemed to know exactly what to say or do to make her smile even when he wasn’t trying.

“Anyways,” she continued, “the point is that I might not ever really understand how Ronnie was affected by losing Michelle. And maybe the best thing I can do for her right now is just let her be.”

“You sure about that?” Sonny asked, knowing that she wasn’t one to back down easily.

Lisa sighed heavily in response. “I don’t know. Maybe?”

“So I guess that means the head clearing mission is still a go.”

“Yeah,” she nodded apologetically.

“Okay, well give me five minutes to get ready and I’ll come with you,” Sonny said as he moved to get up.

“Sonny, you hate running.”

“I do,” he conceded. “But, I love you.” he paused to place a soft kiss on her exposed shoulder. “So come on, let’s go.”

____________________________________________

Lisa sat at a picnic table in the park, enjoying the warm morning sunshine while she waited for Sonny to return. He had insisted that she wait for him here while he went to the bakery across the street to get them some coffee and sustenance.

“We just ran five miles, it is time to refuel,” he had said.

She made a mental note to find a way to thank him later for being such a good sport. If she was being honest, she was really glad that he’d come with her this morning. They hadn’t really talked much during the run but just having him there brought her comfort and a sense of peace. It scared her a little, how much his mere presence affected her. She’d never experienced that with anyone before in her life. She still didn’t know how they were going to navigate being together while both of them were still on Bravo but she did know that losing him again was not an option.

As if on cue, Sonny walked up to the table just then, setting a coffee cup and a paper bag on the table in front of her.

“Hazelnut coffee and a sweet treat for my sweet treat,” he winked at her and placed a quick kiss on her temple as he straddled the bench next to her. He set his own coffee on the table and immediately started munching on the bagel he’d bought for himself making Lisa shake her head in amusement.

Her eyes lit up with childlike excitement when she took out the pastry box from the bag. “Oh my gosh, Sonny! This thing is the size of my head,” she exclaimed as she opened the box to reveal one of the biggest cinnamon rolls she’d ever seen.

“Hey, if you don’t want it, I could always…” he reached for the box.

“Don’t you dare,” she swatted his hand away and shielded the box protectively.

He watched as she swiped a little bit of the icing off of the top and savored it before grabbing the fork from the bag and digging into the cinnamon roll.

“Mmmm this is so good,” she sighed contentedly after taking the first bite.

Sonny looked over at her thoughtfully. This was definitely his favorite Lisa, the carefree Lisa that let her guard down and was unapologetically herself. He liked to think that this was the Lisa that only he got to see and that made it even more special and made him love her even more if that were possible.

They ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes before Lisa set her fork down and moved closer to Sonny, turning so that her back was leaning against his chest as she propped her legs up on the bench.

“Well hello there,” Sonny greeted her, pleasantly surprised. He wrapped his arm around her waist, holding her steady. “Not that I’m complaining here or anything, but are you sure we should be sitting like this out here in public?” They still hadn’t quite figured out how they were going to work around the fraternization issues and had been extra cautious ever since they’d gotten back together.

Lisa responded by placing her arm over his and tightening his grip around her. “The only thing I’m sure of right now is how good it feels to be in your arms, and I don’t really want to worry about anything else. Not today.”

“Well alright then,” he happily accepted her response and took advantage of the opportunity to place a few kisses along her shoulder.

Lisa sighed peacefully and lifted his hand up to her lips for a soft kiss. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Sonny asked, a little confused.

She turned a little to look at him. “For making today a little less sad, for somehow knowing exactly what I needed and for just being here.”

Sonny caressed her cheek and brought her close for a kiss. He pulled away after a few seconds and rested his forehead against hers. “I got your six. Always.”