#Judith Grant Long

[subsidystadium]

Negotiations continue to happen in secret across the country, all without the public seeing or hearing about it

This is not going to shock anyone. Sports owners hate when their plans are released and looked at intensively by anyone. Have you ever tried to read one of them? Try taking a look at the “Potomac Yard Economic and Fiscal Impact Study” from the failed Capitals/Wizards to Alexandria, Virginia proposal. The agreements are nearly impossible to read and understand unless you read these types of…

[communistkenobi]

Would you be willing to dunk on speak more on mainstream feminist theory you're reading? And/or share some of the non-juvenile feminist theory you've read?

(Note: I will try to link to open access versions of articles as much as possible, but some of them are paywalled. if the links dont work just type the titles into google and add pdf at the end, i found them all that way)

If there’s any one singular issue with mainstream feminist thought that can be generalized to "The Problem With Mainstream Feminism" (and by mainstream I mean white, cishet, bourgeois feminism, the “canonical feminism” that is taught in western universities) it’s that gender is treated as something that can stand by itself, by which I mean, “gender” is a complete unit of analysis from which to understand social inequality. You can “add” race, class, ability, national origin, religion, sexuality, and so on to your analysis (each likewise treated as full, discrete categories of the social world), but that gender itself provides a comprehensive (or at the very least “good enough”) view of a given social problem. (RW Connell, who wrote the canonical text Masculinities (1995) and is one of the feminist scholars who coined/popularized the term hegemonic masculinity, is a fantastic example of this.)

Black feminists have for many decades pointed out how fucking ridiculous this is, especially vis a vis race and class, because Black women do not experience misogyny and racism as two discrete forms of oppression in their lives, they are inextricably linked. The separation of gender and race is not merely an analytical error on the part of white feminists - it is a continuation of the long white supremacist tradition of bounding gender in exclusively white terms. Patricia Hill Collins in Black Feminist Thought (2000) engages with this via a speech by Sojourner Truth, the most famous line from her speech being “ain’t I a woman?” as she describes all the aspects of womanhood she experiences but is still denied the position of woman by white women because she is Black. Lugones in Coloniality of Gender (2008) likewise brings up the example of segregationist movements in the USAmerican South, where towns would put up banners saying things like “Protect Southern Women” as a rationale for segregation, making it very clear who they viewed as women. Sylvia Wynter in 1492: A New World View likewise points out that colonized women and men were treated like cattle by Spanish colonizers in South America, often counted in population measures as "heads of Indian men and women," as in heads of cattle. They were treated as colonial resources, not as gendered subjects capable of rational thought.

To treat the category of “woman” as something that stands by itself is a white supremacist understanding of gender, because “woman” always just means white woman - the fact that white is left implied is part of white supremacy, because who is granted subjecthood, the ability to be seen as human and therefore a gendered subject, is a function of race (see Quijano, 2000). Crenshaw (1991) operationalizes this through the term intersectionality, pointing out that law treats gender and race as separate social sites of discrimination, and the practical effect of this is that Black women have limited/no legal recourse when they face discrimination because they experience it as misogynoir, as the multiplicative effect of their position as Black women, not as sexism on the one hand and racism on the other.

Transfeminist theory has further problematized the category of gender by pointing out that "woman" always just means cis woman (and more often than not also means heterosexual woman). The most famous of these critiques comes from Judith Butler - I’m less familiar with their work, but there is a great example in the beginning of Bodies That Matter (1993) where they demonstrate that personhood itself is a gendered social position. They ask (and I’m paraphrasing) “when does a fetus stop becoming an ‘it’? When its gender is declared by a doctor or nurse via ultrasound.” Sex assignment is not merely a social practice of patriarchal division, it is the medium through which the human subject is created (and recall that gender is fundamentally racialized & race is fundamentally gendered, which I will come back to).

And the work of transfeminists demonstrate this by showing transgender people are treated as non-human, non-citizens. Heath Fogg Davis in Sex-Classification Policies as Transgender Discrimination (2014) recounts the story of an African American transgender woman in Pennsylvania being denied use of public transit, because her bus pass had an F gender marker on it (as all buss passes in the state required gender markers until 2013) and the bus driver refused her service because she “didn’t look like a woman.” She was denied access to transit again when she got her marker changed to M, as she “didn’t look like a man.” Transgender people are thus denied access to basic public services by being constructed as “administratively impossible” - gender markers are a component of citizenship because they appear on all citizenship documents, as well as a variety of civil and public documents (such as a bus pass). Gender markers, even when changed by trans people (an arduous, difficult process in most places on earth, if not outright impossible), are seen as fraudulent & used as a basis to deny us citizenship rights. Toby Beauchamp in Going Stealth: Transgender Politics & US Surveillance Practices (2019) talks about anti-trans bathroom bills as a form of citizenship denial to trans people - anti-trans bathroom laws are impossible to actually enforce because nobody is doing genital inspections of everyone who enters bathrooms (and genitals are not proof of transgenderism!), but that’s actually not the point. The point of these bills is to embolden members of the cissexual public to deputize themselves on behalf of the state to police access to public space, directing their cissexual gaze towards anyone who “looks transgender.” Beauchamp points out that transvestigators don’t need to be accurate most of the time, because again, the point is terrorizing transgender people out of public life. He connects this with racial segregation, and argues that we shouldn’t view gender segregation as “a new form of” racial segregation (this is a duplication of white supremacist feminism) but a continuation of it, because public access is a citizenship right and citizenship is fundamentally racially mediated (see Glenn's (2002) Unequal Freedom)

Susan Stryker & Nikki Sullivan further drives this home in The King’s Member, The Queen’s Body, where they explain the history of the crime of mayhem. Originating in feudal Europe (I don’t remember off the dome the exact time/place so forgive the generalization lol), mayhem is the crime of self-mutilation for the purposes of avoiding military conscription, but what is interesting is that its not actually legally treated as “self” mutilation, but a mutilation of the state and its capacity to exercise its own power. They link the concept of mayhem to the contemporary hysteria around transgender people receiving bottom surgery - we are not in fact self mutilating, we are mutilating the state’s ability to reproduce its own population by permanently destroying (in the eyes of the cissexual public) our capacity to form the foundational social unit of the nuclear family. Our bodies are not our own, they are a component of the state. Situating this in the context of reproductive rights makes this even clearer. Abortion access is not actually about the individual, it is the state mediating its own reproductive capacity via the restriction of abortion (premised on the cissexual logic of binary reproductive capacity systematized through sex assignment). Returning to Hill Collins, she points out that in the US, white cis women are restricted access to abortion while Black and Indigenous cis women are routinely forcibly sterilized, their children aborted, and pumped with birth control by the state. This is not a contradiction or point of “hypocrisy” on the part of conservatives, this is a fully comprehensive plan of white supremacist population management.

To treat "gender" as its own category, as much of mainstream feminism does (see Acker (1990) and England (2010) for two hilarious examples of this, both widely cited feminists), is to forward a white supremacist notion of gender. That white supremacy is fundamentally cissexual and heterosexual is not an accident - it is a central organizing logic that allows for the systematization of the fear of declining white birthrates (the conspiracy of "white genocide" is illegible without the base belief that there are two kinds of bodies, one that gets pregnant and one that does the impregnating, and that these two types of bodies are universal sources of evidence of the superiority of men over women - and im using those terms in the most loaded possible sense).

I realize that most of these readings are US centric, which is an unfortunate limitation of my own education. I have been really trying to branch into literature outside the Global North, but doctoral degree constraints + time constraints + my own research requires continual engagement with it. I also realize that most of the transfeminist readings I've cited are by white scholars! This is a continual systemic problem in academic literature and I'm not exempt from it, even as I sit here and lay out the problem. Which is to say, this is nowhere near the final word on this subject, and having to devote so much time to reading mainstream feminist theory as someone who is in western academia is part of my own limited education + perspective on this topic

[ddarker-dreams]

Hierarchy of Needs.

Daryl Dixon x F Reader.

Notes: originally, i was gonna keep this one between me and my google docs, but it's kinda cute ngl so everyone gets to see it Tags: Not SFW, set at the start of Alexandria era, takes place from Daryl's POV. Word count: 10.5k.

Daryl is a hands-on type of man.

He was never one to dawdle, sitting in one place for too long made him squirm. He swore it could be an allergy or some shit. Gets him all itchy and shifting his weight from foot to foot. The problem is, given the general uncertainty surrounding their current living arrangements, Daryl’s limited on what he can and can’t do. For the first time since the dead started walking, he’s caught up in the invisible net of “social expectations”.

Normally, he wouldn’t give a damn, but this isn’t just about him. This is about Judith getting the nutrients she needs. Carl not having to figure out how many sips of his rapidly diminishing water canteen to take to avoid dehydration. The group that’s come to be his family, in every sense of the word, having a roof over their heads and some peace of mind at night. There’s too much on the line for him to screw this up.

So he’s just got to grin and bear it (without the grinning).

Another particular individual comes to mind — all bright smiles and what seems to him to be the physical embodiment of all that’s good in this decaying world — but he swats the thought away like a pesky gnat. In his heart of hearts, he knows he’s dealing with the uppity bullshit for everyone’s sake, but… maybe there is one person he’s putting in the extra effort for. The person that kept him from glaring at some old folk who were looking at him earlier this morning like he was some escaped convict, the person who he’d kill for if it ever came down to it. Someone he already has killed for.

“Got room for one more?”

Daryl almost jumps out of his skin at the abrupt awakening from his thoughts, though from anyone else’s perspective, it probably just looks like he’s scowling harder. It’s wholly unlike him to not notice someone’s approach, human or otherwise. He’s about to give a grunt of indifference before it clicks in his brain just who is standing before him.

It’s you, the person he’d swear he wasn’t thinking such mushy thoughts about even if someone tried to waterboard the information out of him. He has to blink a few times for your newly freshened-up appearance to sink in. Your skin is clean, not a spec of dirt or grime in sight, the same going for your hair. He can’t remember the last time he’d seen you wear it down. Since the colder months in the prison, maybe? It’s a good look on you. To be fair, he’d think just about anything would look good on you.

One of his shirts, for instance. He can envision it picture it now, clear as day—

He has to stop himself from chasing after that line of thought, recalling with mild embarrassment how he still has yet to answer you.

“Can’t stop ya.”

You roll your eyes at that, giving him a look that screams ‘oh really?’, but take a seat nonetheless. Daryl’s set himself up on the porch of the house the group’s been granted. Given the position of the sun in the sky, he figures it’s about noon now. The shift in time brought a volume change. This morning, he could hear the chatter coming from within like he was in the room, everyone having finally received a proper night’s sleep for the first time in who knows how long. It quieted down when the group dispersed to their newly assigned jobs, or in the case of others, to sightsee.

Daryl takes a long drag of his cigarette while you situate yourself next to him on the porch’s steps. He eyes your outfit from his peripherals, an odd wave of something inexplicable rushing over him at the sight. It’s a nice white blouse with some jeans maybe a size or two too large for you. He can’t help but give his garments a once over. They still show evidence of the rough past few months spent living on the road. Now that he thinks about it, everything about him probably sends that message. He’d yet to take a shower or do so much as clean his face.

Is that why the Alexandrians had been giving him the side eye? Everyone else had practically been tripping over each other at the opportunity to shower, whereas he couldn’t bring himself to care. He’d disregarded Carol’s comments about it and would likely do the same if anyone had the balls to bring it up to his face, but for some reason, having you in his general vicinity is making him feel uncharacteristically self-conscious. You’re not looking at him with disgust, or looking at him with anything really, just your trademark smile that made him feel like melting into a pile of happy goo.

“You didn’t feel up to going out and exploring?” You inquire, hugging a knee to your chest. He shakes his head. At this, you scoot closer, excitement radiating from your being. “Want to come check it out with me, then? It feels… weird going places by myself. We’d always pair up in twos at least. I feel like I’m betraying our unspoken buddy system.”

He snorts at that. “Nah, ‘ve seen all I need to already.”

He knows he needs to change the subject before you decide this is a venture worth pursuing. If you gave him those damn doe eyes and asked sweetly enough, he’d do just about anything you asked. Hell, you didn’t even need to do all that for him to almost always cave. This weakness of his went mostly unnoticed to himself (or maybe he didn’t want to acknowledge it), until Merle put two and two together. It didn’t take him long either. He’d asked none too quietly how his little brother ended up pussy-whipped in his absence. Daryl had almost converted when he realized some higher power stopped you from overhearing the comment.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the last smarmy comment about you Merle was destined to make. If anything, that was one of the more forgivable remarks, since the brunt of it was directed at him.

No, the worst had come when Merle had been tasked with taking Michonne to The Governor. It was a regrettable final exchange between brothers all around. Daryl can’t recall exactly how the conversation had shifted to you, or the exact words that led up to that final gut punch, but he can still hear his brother’s mocking voice speak the sentence that’s haunted him ever since.

“You've been so busy drooling over her to realize, so let me spell it out for ya nice and slow. She ain't ever gonna want you the same way you want her. We're freaks to people like that. Nothing but redneck trash. And don’t you ever forget it.”

Daryl inhales deeply, the scent of cheap tobacco mixing with the shampoo you must’ve used. It’s light and sweet. Nothing could fit you better.

“Thought you’d be at the infirmary by now,” Daryl isn’t sure who he’s trying to distract anymore — you, or him. “Got ran off already?”

Your closed-mouth smile falters for a millisecond. Anyone else might not have noticed the nearly imperceptible change, but Daryl’s got a hunter’s eye, not to mention how attuned he is to your every mannerism. He’s ready to shove his personal woes aside if it means making room for yours.

“Well, that’s a way to describe it,” he can tell by your tone that you’re trying to keep the conversation lighthearted. How very like you. “When Deanna interviewed me, I not-so-subtly hinted at everything I had learned from Hershel. Although, to be fair, I talked up everyone from our group. I even defended Eugene’s honor like the man had won a Pulitzer. I would’ve said anything if it meant not getting thrown back out there.”

He nods, listening to your every word as if the secrets to the universe were held within.

“Anyway… I guess my sales pitch went purposefully unnoticed. She did say that she’d let the resident doctor know, but that he was ‘particular’ about how he goes about his practice. I think that’s politician talk for ‘not gonna happen’. She seemed eager to move on from the subject. So, for the time being, we’re both unemployed.”

Daryl has to will himself not to get distracted and laugh at your joke. He knows you don’t like to be ‘a downer’ (your words, not his), which leads you to hide negative sentiments behind that pretty smile. He gets it, because he does the same thing, utilizing a gruff exterior instead of your near-blinding charm.

“‘S stupid. Don’t let it get to ya.”

“Oh, I won’t,” you grin at him genuinely enough. He temporarily reassesses, wondering if he read you wrong, when your shoulders slightly slump. “I just really want this to work. We need this to work. The fact we lasted out there for so long, with a baby, is almost enough to have me asking Gabriel if he can send my regards to the big man in the sky.”

“It’ll work,” he tells you, his tongue working faster than his brain. You give him a hesitant nod. You know just as well as he does that there’s no way to make guarantees like that. Still, when Daryl’s so used to seeing you in bloom, having you wilt beside him hurts. Worse than a knife being twisted in his gut.

“Yeah,” your voice drops to a whisper then. You glance around, as if checking for prying eyes and ears, then continue when satisfied there are none. “I hope everyone else thinks so too. Rick looks to me like he's been thinking 'Viva La Vida' ever since we first set foot inside.”

Daryl searches the recesses of his brain to grasp at what your vague term means, squinting while he does so. He thinks he may have heard it in a history class at some point, in between playing hooky. Sensing his confusion, you elaborate, but not without throwing in a shitty French accent that has no business sounding as cute as it does.

“Révolution.”

You’re more perceptive than you let on, aren’t you? He wonders if Carol has been taking notes, considering the friendly-totally-not-threatening-cookie-and-casserole-making façade she’s recently adopted. He supposes it’s a bit different. You don’t actively hide your strengths, but you don’t go around advertising them either.

It was one of the first things Daryl noticed about you. In truth, he hadn’t given you much thought when he initially met you back on the side of the highway in Atlanta. He mentally categorized you as some city girl who’d probably complain about how the mosquitos are constantly biting or whatever. While you did express your fair share of disdain over the bloodsucking bugs, it was more of an icebreaker than anything. A way to loosen people up. Lighten the spirits when things got too heavy.

You were the opposite of Daryl in that way, a bonafide people magnet. He hadn’t given this quality of yours enough credit until he saw you bring a smile to Carl’s face soon after his mom’s tragic death. Then there was the way you cared for the people he found out on the road back in the prison days. They were often understandably closed off, disbelieving of the security the chain link fences supposedly provided. You made it a point to help bring them into the fold. No one asked you to, you just did it, because that’s the type of person you are.

Daryl brought people in, you made them feel at home. He cherished that little connection he had with you. It made him feel warm and fuzzy, like he’d downed enough liquor to feel buzzed without getting drunk. Everything about you was similarly stupefying and addicting.

When the prison fell, he thought all possibilities of restoring that connection fell with it. A silly thing to mourn, but he mourned it nonetheless, another line on a seemingly infinite list. Maybe… maybe it doesn’t have to be a figment of the past. If this place, Alexandria, is where your group decides to kick up their feet, he could start recruiting again. Look forward to seeing how you run over to greet the fresh faces upon hearing of his return.

It’s a nice thought. He’ll have to see if reality is anywhere near as kind.

“Rick’s just wary, ‘s all. Hard not to be. Y’know how it was out there. What we saw.”

“… Yeah,” you shift in your seat. “Well, at least these folks didn’t break out the salt and pepper when we walked through the gates.”

“Jesus Christ, woman.”

He can’t stop a single chuckle from slipping out, though he still cringes at the Terminus callback.

“Heard they got a shrink somewhere ‘round here. Might wanna look into that.”

“Hey, I said I’m trying to make this work, not end up in a Hannibal Lecter getup.”

You and your damn movie references. At least he’s familiar with this one. Sometimes he swore you and Eugene were speaking in another language when you two got on the topic of entertainment. Not being able to share that interest with you made him feel a certain way — a real shitty way.

“You’re the last one of us they’d throw out,” Daryl muses. You tilt your head at that, furrowing your eyebrows like when he’d first recounted the chupacabra story. He decides not to expand on the subject; it has too many of his feelings intertwined. Not worth the risk. “Unless they catch wind of your shitty sense of humor. Can’t say what’d happen then.”

You place a hand to your chest in faux indignation. “Well, Dixon, you laugh at my ‘shitty sense of humor’ more often than you don’t, so what does that say about you?”

A lot of things he can’t bring himself to admit out loud, mostly.

You give him a playful punch in the shoulder when he doesn’t dignify you with a response. The touch is so innocent, a mere brush of your knuckles against his skin, yet it throws his mind into temporary disarray. The effect you have on him could be subject to study; it’s as if every nerve in his body is set on fire. He feels warm, from his face to the tip of his ears. Then that heat drifts steadily downward. It’s then that he becomes fully aware of how close you are. How he can see your collarbones, and if he tilts his head at just the right angle, the start of some cleavage.

It’s got to be wrong, how much he desires you. The ways he desires you. It makes him feel ickier than the months without a proper shower ever could. You’re so bright, so kind, so good, he shouldn’t be lusting after you like some boy whose voice hasn’t broken yet. You trust him, he knows you do. He’s overheard you go so far as to call him one of your closest friends. Considering the far better options you have out there, he should feel blessed you even give him that much. Wanting anything more than that isn’t just greedy, it’s downright risky.

Daryl would never forgive himself if he made you the slightest bit uncomfortable, he’s given people shit for less. Someone could look in your general direction for too long and he’d start glaring.

Right when he starts willing himself to pull his head out of the gutter, you go to tie your hair up, effectively shutting any possibility of him doing that down. Your chest arches forward at the movement and he’s treated to a lovely view of your neck. You must sense the heavy way he’s staring at you, for you turn your head towards him. He doesn’t make the situation any better by shifting his attention ahead fast enough to almost give him whiplash.

“Are you planning on coming to that welcoming party tonight?”

Daryl has to bite back a groan at this topic of conversation. Why is everyone so damn interested in his attendance to some yuppie soiree? He knows that if the request is coming from you, it’ll steadily break his resolve down.

His facial expressions must have betrayed his thoughts, for you laugh. “I didn’t think so. I can’t blame you. I’m actually planning on bailing at the first opportunity I get.”

He raises an eyebrow at this. “Really? Can’t believe ’m hearing that from Miss Social Butterfly.”

“I think I’m more of a social caterpillar for the time being. It’s just, uh, a lot. I’m pretty sure Rick wants to put me on display as some sort of standup citizen like back on the farm. That I could handle. This, I’m not so sure. I don’t know the first thing about croquet. I feel like I’m lowering the GDP just by being in the general vicinity.”

He has to stop himself from gawking. He can’t fathom why you of all people would feel this way. That elderly couple who was staring him down probably would’ve fawned over you, pinched your cheeks and welcomed you in for quinoa. He’s about to voice this when your comment about the farm catches his attention more.

“The hell’d he have you do on the farm?”

“Oh, that’s right, you may not have noticed. I’d mostly situate myself in the areas Hershel was bound to come across with a Bible in my hands. Y’know, nodding my head and stuff, looking really into it. Worked like a charm. Tensions were high, but I think he felt slightly less inclined to send us packing knowing there was a God-fearing individual among us.”

He snorts, shaking his head in disbelief. You really were something else. He swears he could talk to you for hours if you allowed him.

“Try the Bible-thumping again. Might just do the trick.”

“Somehow or another, I doubt that. You’ve noticed it, haven’t you? The staring. I swear I saw some blinds being drawn when we all came out earlier.”

Of course he’d noticed. He’s likely half the reason behind it. “That’s what you’re ‘ere for. To get ‘em to stop looking at us like a damn circus act.”

“You and Rick are overestimating me. Maggie and Glenn have got it covered, little Judith adds brownie points too,” you tilt your head back to look at the cloudless sky. “Anyway, I figured if you planned on ditching, I’d invite myself along. Buddy system, remember?”

He flicks the cigarette out of his hands and onto the ground, extinguishing it beneath the sole of his boot. “Like I said earlier — can’t stop ya.”

Daryl silently praises himself for keeping up the cool and indifferent front when he’s internally celebrating over the prospect of having more alone time with you. What he wouldn’t give for more of that. He hasn’t the slightest damn clue why you seem to favor his company, but if there’s anything the apocalypse has taught him, it’s to accept a miracle when he’s handed one.

You smile at him as if he’d just offered you the world on a silver platter. It does too much to his poor heart.

“Great! It’s a date then.”

He almost chokes on his spit from how casually you say that, his eyes wide blown and jaw slacking. Fortunately, you’re none the wiser, standing up and patting the dirt off your jeans. The realization you’re about to leave makes him feel pathetically empty. He’d spent just about every moment of the past few weeks by your side, yet it wasn’t enough, he doesn’t think anything can be enough. The more of you he gets, the more of you he wants. You’re worse than the drugs his brother used to sing the praises of.

“Heading out?” Daryl can’t stop himself from questioning, no matter how obvious it might make him look. The porch steps already felt a whole lot emptier without you sitting beside him.

“Yeah, I promised to save Michonne if she wasn’t back in ten. She’s getting swarmed by children curious about her sword.”

“Good luck on your search n’ rescue.”

You give him a silly salute then, finishing the pantomime off with a bout of giggles. Then you’re off. Daryl exhales shakily, cursing himself for the way his heart’s pounding like he’d just run a marathon. He knows he needs to squash this lovesickness before it’s too late — if it isn’t already too late. He didn’t agree with Merle on a lot of things, especially when it came to you, but that last remark rings true. It’d be laughable for him to delude himself into thinking you feel anything but platonic affection toward him.

Especially with the options you have here in Alexandria. It may have been slim pickings before, but now, you might as well have an entire buffet laid out. You’re bound to catch the eye of some of the folk around here. If you could get him to like you, he figures you could win over almost anyone. Why would you give him the time of day when there are those clean-shaven, college-educated men running around like they own the place? If the world hadn’t gone to shit, that’s probably who you would’ve gone for.

It’s only because the world went to shit that you even know his name.

Watching how some Alexandrians wave at you, a gesture you animatedly return, he reaches for another smoke.

His brother’s words echo in his head, falling somewhere between a taunt and a warning.

“She ain't ever gonna want you the same way you want her.”

He would do well to remember that, wouldn’t he?

-

If someone told Daryl he’d died and gone to heaven, he’d believe them.

You’re leaning against one of the porch’s pillars, humming a tune to yourself, not having noticed his presence yet. He decides to keep it that way if it means he gets to admire you a while longer. You’re wearing a dark blue dress (he can imagine you correcting him and calling it ‘indigo’ or some shit), looking like an angel incarnate beneath the moonlight. It’s such a simple garment, stopping right above your knees, but to him, you might as well be wearing a ball gown. You’ve got those white tennis shoes that he saw you furiously scrubbing grass stains off of earlier today, the outline of a knife tucked away in them. His chest swells with pride at the knowledge you’re always ready to take care of yourself, thanks in part to his teaching.

Eventually, he manages to break himself free from his you-induced reverie, calling out your name to catch your attention.

You spin on your heel, placing your hands on your hips at the sight of him. “There you are. I thought my ditching buddy ditched me.”

He has to stop himself from saying he’d cross a river of broken glass barefoot if you were standing on the other side, instead settling on, “Aaron and Eric invited me over, figured you’d still be at the party. Did I keep ya waiting long?”

“No, you didn’t, I’m just being dramatic,” you revert back to your usual posture and grin. “It’s good. That they invited you over and you accepted it, I mean. Aaron’s a cool guy. Eric is too, from what I can tell. You guys have some manly bonding time?”

He rolls his eyes at the teasing lilt in your voice. “Mhm, sat around chuggin’ beer and talking ‘bout sports for hours. You?”

“Nothing of much note went down, just a lot of handshaking. I did get stuck talking to one of Deanna’s son for a while, though. I had to practically jump through hoops of fire to escape.”

Daryl swallows down the unpleasant taste that revelation leaves in his mouth. “You don’t like ‘im?”

“He’s… fine, I guess? Harmless enough. Just a really dry conversationalist, which to me, is a cardinal sin,” you stretch your arm above your head and Daryl has to stop himself from staring at how your skirt lifts up, revealing more of your shapely legs. Shit, he really does drool over you. “Oh, you’ll get a kick out of this. He invited me to a game of croquet. I was joking about that earlier, turns out I was right on the money.”

“You’re shitting me,” he deadpans.

“As much as I wish I was, no. God. I knew they’d be a bit sheltered here, but this… I don’t know. It worries me. I wish I could tell myself they can keep living this way, because that’s what they’re doing. Living. They really don’t know how bad it is. And if the bad ever makes its way here…”

You trail off, not needing to fill in the gaps for Daryl to piece it together. He gets what you mean. The entire group does. Carol thinks they’re children and Rick’s ready to take over at the drop of a hat. No one aside from you has expressed concern about their wellbeing out loud, although it’d been in the back of his mind when he saw there were children and old folk here. It’s this compassion of yours that brings him in like a moth to light. After everything you’d been through, you had every right to become a bitter husk of the woman you once were, but you haven’t.

And he thanks the God he isn’t sure he believes in for it.

After a moment’s deliberation, he sets his hand on your shoulder and squeezes. “It ain’t too late for ‘em. You learned. So can they.”

“Well, it did help that I had an excellent teacher.”

He grumbles a ‘shut up’ despite wanting you to do anything but.

Silence sets in for a few beats then. It takes him longer to notice this than it usually would, his head caught up in the near-euphoric experience of receiving a compliment from you. He realizes that he has yet to take his hand off your shoulder and has undoubtedly let it linger too long. He clears his throat, detaching himself from your person with some reluctance, suddenly taking an acute interest in the floorboards you’re both standing on.

Why is it still silent, save for the buzz of cicadas and the chirps of grasshoppers? Shit, did he cross some invisible line in the sand?

“Daryl?”

He grunts at that, not trusting his voice when his thoughts are at war with one another.

“You really are a good man.”

His head shoots back up and he’s searching your countenance for any signs of deception. You’re always teasing one another, this could be another instance of that. However, when your eyes meet his, he sees nothing but unabashed admiration shining in them. He doesn’t think he deserves to be looked at that way, much less by you of all people. You were looking at him like he was the second coming of Christ or something. It makes his stomach do backflips and his poor heart might go into cardiac arrest.

He tries to dismiss your claim with a lighthearted ‘nah’, not because he can’t accept the compliment, but because he doesn’t think it’s true. If you knew the way he thought about you, you’d take your words right back. Look at him the way people have his entire life. Disgust, maybe some pity. Doing what anyone would’ve done doesn’t make him a saint, no matter how hard you and Carol try to argue otherwise.

“You might not believe it, but I hope me thinking so suffices in the meantime,” you say, doing that creepy mind-reading thing you tend to be good at. “I’m truly grateful I met you. You make this life worth living.”

Should you keep going on like this, you might make him well up with tears. He’s glad there aren’t any reflective surfaces nearby because he can’t fathom the expression must be making. What is this? What are you doing to him? Those soft, kissable lips of yours must’ve casted a spell. You’re reaching forward now, pressing your palm against his cheek, and he considers pinching himself to see if this is all a dream.

If it is, he might not want to wake up.

Out of some primal, base instinct, he leans down, wanting nothing more than anything to get a taste of you. It’s when his lips are a few inches from yours that his brother’s words come hurling his way, knocking him off balance and making him jerk backwards. He sees something flit over your face — hates himself for it, too — the sight further reinforcing the prophecy spoken over him.

You deserve more. You deserve some man who knows how to speak what’s on his mind, who doesn’t shy away the second a conversation gets the slightest bit personal. Daryl doesn’t know how to do that, he might never figure it out either. If he does try, you’d have to bear the brunt of his inexperience, and your patience is bound to run out. He can barely put up with it himself sometimes, he can’t fathom putting you through it too.

“Are you okay?”

You’re staring up at him, your eyebrows knitting together, a frown that he so desperately longs to kiss away on your lips. He should be the one asking you that. From your perspective, you must figure he’s rejecting you. And still, you don’t stomp off in a huff or put him down. The tenderness emanating from those three words melts his heart like snow come spring. He opens his mouth, then closes it, licking his lower lip while trying to decide the best approach. Catching those damn hogs back at the prison was easier than getting a few words dislodged from his throat.

“You… you’re sure?” Daryl winces at how unlike himself he sounds when whispering this. “You feel that way ‘bout me?”

The pad of your thumb runs over his cheekbone. “Mhm. Guilty as charged.”

No matter how nonchalant you’re trying to act, he can feel the way your hand shakes against him. See the lines of worry you try to cover with a smile. Hear your every shallow breath. This must be fucking terrifying for you, baring yourself before him like you did, granting him a glimpse of your heart. His mask is one of indifference and yours is one of charm. You’re trying to keep things light like all those times on the road. When he saw you tossing and turning in your sleep, fighting back tears when you thought no one was looking.

He knew. He’s always known. He just never knew what to do about it, how to provide the same comfort you gave others.

“I wanna look out for you,” Daryl’s larger hand envelops the one you’ve placed on his face, causing your eyebrows to raise ever so slightly. “Wanna… wanna keep you safe and smiling. Want you to feel like you can do more than that ‘round me too. You can cry, get angry. ‘S alright. I know. I know.”

Tears well up on your lower lash line, and maybe he should feel a bit guilty for thinking so, but damn, you look beautiful. “See? This is what I meant when I said you’re a good man.”

“Cut it with your shitty jokes, woman,” he knows his bark is worse than his bite when you laugh at him, tilting your head back and revealing more of that tempting neck of yours. He swears to burn this image into the recesses of his mind for as long as he lives. You’re being you, he’s being him, and there’s nothing better.

All his bravado slips through his fingers like sand when you stand up on your tiptoes, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer. You breathe a taunting command against the shell of his ear and he shivers.

“Make me.”

That successfully ignites the competitive streak you know he has.

For how coquettish you were acting, you return his kiss in a gentle manner, and he reciprocates the pace you set. His hands find their way to your waist without daring to go lower, no matter how loudly his instincts urge otherwise. He’d sooner breathe his last breath than make you feel uncomfortable. If this sweet kiss is all you want, he’d count himself a blessed man from this day forward. It’s you who parts first, leaning back just enough to give your lungs some much-needed air. You stare up at him through your eyelashes, giving him that look that would make him agree to anything you ask.

“Do you want… to take this inside?”

Your voice dies off toward the end and he swears his brain temporarily shut off at the implication. Barely a second earlier he was thinking how he’d die a happy man just for getting a simple kiss from you, he’d written off the possibility of anything more than that. He nods his head, his hand going to the small of your back to lead you inside, when you turn and start making for the front lawn.

Reading the confusion on his face, you explain, “We were given two houses, remember? It might be a better idea to use the empty one for this.”

Daryl really had forgotten the rest of the world exists when he was in that bubble with you. The streets may be empty, but who knows how long that welcoming party will last. He’s grateful one of you has a head clear enough to consider these things. You’re his smart girl for a reason.

“Ya plan this?” He can’t stop himself from asking when he half-jogs after you. The thoughts that run through his head when you bend over to pick up a key hidden beneath a welcome mat will stay between him and God. You slot it into place, turn, then open the door, beckoning him to follow with a finger. He feels his pants growing tighter by the second.

“I’d be a liar if I said yes, though I wish I could take credit for everything,” you lock the door behind him. “No… it just felt like it was time. I’d been waiting for my moment for ages. Guess I got a little impatient.”

Your back is up against the door the second that last word is out of your mouth. He takes your lips for his own again, something like a gasp leaving him when you lift a leg to curl around his waist. He steadies you with his hands to ensure you don’t fall over, the air in the room feeling thicker than those humid Georgian summers you spent together. When he senses you’re stable enough, he lifts one hand to cup your cheek like you did to him, pulling you as close as he physically can. Your arms are around his neck once more, playing with the ends of his hair that he’s grateful he washed hours prior. He hadn’t anticipated this, yet knowing he had plans to spend time with you gave him the motivation to clean up.

Rick teased him for it earlier. The former sheriff had walked in on him shaping up his beard, a knowing smile on his lips.

“Saw [First], didn’t you?”

“Shut up, man.”

Officer Friendly had called it. Carol gave him a nod that made him figure she knew it too. So much for being covert about his feelings for you. Deep down, he knew it must be obvious, the extensive special treatment he gave you. His brother wasn’t too far off with his pussy-whipped comment, crass or not. Daryl would offer you his last bite of rations, final sip of water, hell, he asked if you wanted him to carry you on the grueling walk to DC when everyone was at their wit’s end. You had given him a weak chuckle and said he wasn’t in any shape to do that.

Regardless of how true that was, had you said yes, he still would’ve found a way to make it happen.

You were that precious to him.

Daryl starts tugging the hem of your dress, revealing the tantalizing sight of your bare thighs beneath. Before he can pull it up any further, your hand is on his, and he stops in fear he’d done something wrong.

Those self-doubts are washed away by the sheer neediness in your next word. “Bedroom?”

You don’t need to ask him twice.

The noise you let out when he lifts you up has got to be one of the cutest damn things he’s ever heard. Your response is immediate, you encircle your limbs around him, clinging on like he’d ever dare to drop you. The house doesn’t have any lights on, but Daryl’s eyes are good in the dark. He carries you up the steps while you bury yourself in the crook of his neck. He finds an empty master bedroom, shuts and locks the door behind him, then brings you over to the queen-sized bed.

You start to take your sneakers off when he touches your wrist and shakes his head. Before you can question his intentions, he kneels in front of you, getting down on his hands and knees. This here is a gift you’re giving him. He’d be damned if he didn’t act accordingly. He takes your shoes off with a surprising amount of patience, pressing a chaste kiss to your shin when he’s done.

“You sure you’re alright with this?” His voice comes out deeper than he’s ever heard it. “That you want it?”

“I’m absolutely positive. I’ll even beg, if you ask nicely enough. I’m nice like that.”

He squeezes your thighs. “There you go, running that mouth o’ yours again.”

“You could always make it so I can’t.”

Daryl raises an eyebrow at the insinuation, his cock twitching inside his briefs at the mental image it conjures up. You, sitting pretty on your hands and knees, mouth open and waiting for him. Knowing you, you’d probably rile him up first. Kiss his tip and apply the bare minimum amount of pressure. Would you take him in slow? Lick him up and down the side while staring up at him with those gorgeous eyes?

Tempting as it is to find out, he’s got other plans in mind. He wants to see your face twist in pleasure and hear his name fall from your lips. It’d do his pride some good to know one as sought over as you chose him.

You start playing with the straps of your dress, pulling him from his fantasies. “Do you want to take this off, or should I?”

He bites his lower lip hard enough that it’s a miracle it doesn’t start bleeding. He had intended to unwrap the present before him, but when you put it like that… it makes him curious about the alternative. He’d love to see what little show you’d put on for him, he’s got front-row seats, after all.

“Alright. Let’s see it.”

Daryl gets up from his kneeling position and takes a seat beside you on the bed. You get the hint, standing with legs that wobble ever so slightly. You don’t look surprised when he chooses to poke fun at your current state.

“Woah there, you good? Legs still work?”

You stick your tongue out at him. “Better than ever, thank you very much.”

He leans back, making himself comfortable for whatever comes next. “Mhm. Whatever you say, princess.”

At hearing the sarcastic nickname, you go stiff as a board. He catches the way your pupils dilate. You press your face into your hands to muffle a groan, hiding a very noticeably flustered expression from his prying eyes.

“I haven’t heard you call me that for ages. I think it may have awoken something in me,” you confess, pulling your hands away at his prompting. “I may or may not have developed the biggest crush on you when you called me that back at the prison. It got me riled up every time. Even if I was laying on my ass ‘cause you flipped me over for the umpteenth time that day.”

Daryl snorts at the memory. “Ya always did seem to be out for blood after I said it.”

He keeps the fact that he found your frustration cute. It was a hidden ace up his sleeve that he utilized when it looked like you were about to give up, his training regiment admittedly brutal. He couldn’t risk going easy on you with the world being the way it is. You’d be down on the grass, soaked in sweat, groaning for him to call it a day because ‘you think every bone in your body is broken’. Apparently, all it took was a little taunting for you to hop right back on your feet again.

Your competitive streak might be as bad as his.

“Did you like me then, Daryl?” You question, dropping the left shoulder strap just enough to give him a treat. “You must’ve, if you never shooed me away.”

Damn freakishly perceptive woman. “Why ya asking if you already know the answer?”

“Because your voice is the best sound I’ve ever heard. Can’t blame a girl for wanting to hear more of it.”

He grunts, unable to meet your eyes after an embarrassing proclamation like that, his face flushing. How is it you say half the stuff you do? You and your stupid silver tongue would be the death of him. There are worse ways to go, he figures. He struggles to keep his eyes focused on the wall when you lean forward, granting him an unrivaled sight of your cleavage. His embarrassment still slightly outweighs his burning desire to ogle you. Sensing this, you splay your fingers against his clothed chest. Slowly, ever so slowly, your hand ghosts upward. Over his jugular then settling on his jaw. You move his face until he’s looking you dead in the eye again.

“Hey handsome,” your voice pours over him, sweet and thick like honey, “Eyes over here. I get jealous rather easily.”

God, he hopes you don’t notice the goosebumps dotting his skin. Maybe you were a cross between an angel and a witch, what with your ability to enthrall him. His boxers have never felt more uncomfortable in his life. He balls his hands into fists by his side, utilizing every ounce of his self-control to stop himself from picking you up, throwing you on the bed, and utterly ravishing you.

“That so?”

“Mhm,” you confirm, the next strap falling victim to your ministrations. The front of your dress starts to slip down. His Adam's apple bobs from how thickly he swallows. The swell of your chest comes into view, pushed up by your nude-colored bra. His knuckles go white from how tight he’s grabbing the comforter to keep himself in check. You’re treating him to a show, it’d be rude to interrupt your performance now.

Without the support of the straps, the fabric continues falling, revealing more and more of your beautiful body for him. The wet patch of your panties isn’t lost on him — you’re relishing in every second like he is. While never looking away from him, your hands disappear behind your back, fiddling with your bra strap. He swears he’s never felt less like a man and more like a beast when he’s finally able to see your chest in its entirety.

You walk to him as if you have all the time in the world, your knees hitting the bed’s side not nearly fast enough for his liking. Finally, you take a seat on his lap, your crotch pressing perfectly against his. He lets out a low groan then, grateful for any pressure to relieve the near painful hard-on you’ve given him. His hands settle on your ass, grinding you against his clothed length, and you stifle a moan by biting down on your lower lip.

Daryl tuts, stopping before he’s even begun. “Nah, I don’t think so. Don’t go getting shy on me now, girl. Ain’t like ya.”

After a moment’s consideration, you nod your head, your eagerness apparently outweighing the shame he didn’t know you had. He grins at you, resuming his previous actions and earning those debauched noises he’s longed to hear. Your panties might be staining his jeans, but he can’t find it in himself to complain, he’d wear it like a damn badge of pride. You’re his woman now. He belongs to you as well — heart, mind, body, and soul — if you asked, he’d happily hand it over.

“It feel good? Hm?”

“Like everything I ever wanted and more,” you confess, the breathiness of your voice making his brain feel hazy. “You’re— god— I adore you, Daryl. You’re so good to me.”

His lips are on yours then, this kiss being the messiest yet. His tongue pokes at your lips, and when you part them, ready to receive whatever he’s willing to give, his tongue goes to explore the newfound territory. You taste sweet (is that chocolate?), like the best treat he’s ever been given. He swallows your little gasps and whimpers, giving your ass a firm squeeze to ground himself.

Daryl can’t believe this is really happening. That you want him as much as he wants you and have no qualms showing it. He might be drunk on lust, but there’s something else in there, a flavor he’s never experienced before you stumbled into his life. It’s sweeter than the chocolate, more addicting than the bottle.

He loves you. He has for the longest time.

He slows down his maneuvering of your body, letting you catch your breath and tuck a strand of hair behind his ear.

“You okay?” You ask in between huffs, peppering his hairline with featherlight kisses.

“Better than ever,” he repeats your words from earlier, albeit with a southern drawl. Faster than you can process it, he flips you over, kicking his shoes off to lord knows where. You get over your surprise fast enough and shuffle back to make room for him. He hovers above you, almost uncertain of where to start. You must be feeling particularly gracious, for you let him drink in the sight of you without making any smart comments. Your body is pure eye candy and he’d be damned if he didn’t get himself a nice taste.

His lips are feverish against your neck, alternating between bites and open-mouthed kisses. He’s finally able to lavish your chest in some well-deserved attention, his rough palms pressing against the flesh, feeling you up like his life depended on it. You, being the perfect creature you are, grind up against him, drawing out a growl from his throat.

“It alright if I mark you up?” He breathes against your skin in between kisses. “Show everyone you’re mine?”

“Yes, please do.”

Never one to deny you anything, especially when you ask so nicely, he gets to work leaving proof of this tryst on your neck. Little bruises start to form where he’s concentrated his attention, right above your racing pulse. Content with its appearance, his lips start adventuring down. He takes a nipple into his mouth and sucks, more than pleased at the gasp you let out in response. While his tongue swirls around you, his hand makes its way to the hem of your panties, the last clothing item keeping you from being entirely bare. He detaches himself from your chest with some reluctance, so he can witness this final barrier being torn away.

“If you look at me like that, I might just get embarrassed,” you laugh at the halfhearted glare he gives you for the comment. He supposes it wouldn’t be you if you weren’t actively trying to rile him up. You were coy like that, frequently looking for a way to get him going, not that he minded. It’s starting to add up in retrospect. You’d been flirting with him all this time, a fact that went right over his head.

“‘S fine by me. Would probably do you some good.”

Your eyes crinkle from how wide your smile is, unadulterated affection gleaming in your eyes. He can’t help himself — he bends down to peck your now pouting lips. Tempting as it is to kiss you silly for the remainder of the night, he’s a man on a mission. You lift your legs to help him get that final undergarment off. He sets it aside so you won’t have any difficulty finding it later. Then he’s drinking in the beauty that is your glistening folds, subconsciously licking his lips at such an appetizing display.

A soft call of his name breaks him from his stupor. “Hm?”

“Don’t, uh, feel like you have to do that,” you give him a sheepish glance. “It’s okay if you just want to, y’know.”

If he were a cruel man, he’d tease you until you squirmed for how adorable you’re acting, but he decides to have mercy. Gotta be gracious with the love of your life and all that. Still, he can’t help feeling slightly miffed you’d think he’s going to eat you out over some obligation. Your pleasure is his pleasure, your happiness is his happiness. He thought his desperation for you soaked into his every action since you confessed on that porch. Then he remembers he hasn’t got much room to talk, the voice of insecurity could be brought down to a whisper, yet never entirely silenced.

He gives your pelvis a kiss. “I wanna. Simple as that.”

Daryl’s reassurance comes out gruff, and while it might not be dripping with romance, it visibly puts you at ease. He doesn’t do anything until you nod. Then he’s in between your legs, feeling more at home by the second. He kisses you up your inner thigh, his beard tickling over the smooth expanse of skin. Finally, his tongue slips between his lips, pressing flat against your cunt. The way you shudder encourages him to repeat the action, testing the new waters with care.

His technique isn’t the most refined, but he’s eager, lapping you up with unmatched zeal. The wet sounds of him feasting himself on you fill the room, and he thinks it might be one of the best sounds to grace his ears. He alternates between licking you and pulling on your folds toward him slightly with his teeth. Whatever it is he’s doing, you seem to be enjoying it, if the way your legs go wide for him is any indicator. He pulls you flush against his mouth by your love handles, delighting in how you moan so prettily for him. He’d tried to imagine what you might sound like if he ever had a chance with you, what dulcet tones your voice would take on.

Those thoughts were enough to satisfy him on lonely nights, but they pale in comparison to the real thing. You’re a force of nature. So beguiling, so easy to love, that he’s once again reminded that it’s a miracle he’s the one you’ve chosen. Never has he felt so grateful. People had tried, yet you never went for it. Was he on your mind in those moments? Steering you away from anyone that isn’t him? He could only hope so.

Daryl pulls back, chuckling at the whine you let out at the loss. “Needy thing, ain’t ya?”

“Only for you.”

Once again, you prove to him that you always know what to say. You and your feminine wiles.

“Think you can handle my fingers?”

At this, you nod. He gathers your slick in his pointer and middle finger. He starts with his pointer finger, watching with something like awe as it eases inside you. Once he’s certain that it doesn't hurt, his middle finger is next, stretching out the walls that envelop him. A sinfully delightful sound is produced when he takes his fingers out and slides them back in. He eyes the slick coating his fingers, and after realizing he misses how you taste, dips his head back down to messily kiss your clit. Your hips are thrusting to meet his fingers halfway, an action that doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Close,” you breathe out in between moans, “I’m close.”

He hums against you, the low vibration adding to your mounting pleasure. He doesn’t care if his wrist hurts for the foreseeable future, he wants you to feel good, to completely unravel and show him he’s done a good job. The muscles in your thighs go tense and he hears you let out the most depraved whimper of his name. He doesn’t let up, hellbent on seeing you through the entirety of your high.

Your body goes limp as a ragdoll against the bed. Gently, you pull him back, combing your fingers through his tousled hair. He removes his fingers from you and plops them into his mouth, content to savor your taste a while longer. It’s second only to the taste of your lips. Once he’s finished cleaning them off, you guide his hand to your face, and he watches the act with muted confusion. He lets out a sound like a choke when your mouth wraps around his fingers, hollowing your cheeks while you do so.

“Christ, woman. You tryna kill me?”

A quiet pop sound resonates in the room when you detach yourself from him. “Of course not. I’m far too enamored with you.”

Daryl still can’t entirely fathom why exactly that is, but he keeps the thought to himself.

In his fervor, he neglected to shed his own clothes, a fault he works to remedy. There’s nothing he wants more than to feel your skin against his without any barriers. He stands up to make the process easier, starting with his vest, then the halfway decent shirt he picked for the night. Next is his buckle and jeans. He doesn’t have time to feel self-conscious, not when you’re laying there, waiting for him so well. The scars and other various imperfections marring his skin must be difficult to make out in the low light, anyway. He knows you wouldn’t judge him — he feels it in his bones — yet that’s a can of worms he’d prefer to leave for another day.

He lets out a sigh of relief when his cock is freed from its restraints. Copious amounts of pre-cum leak from the tip, a testimony to your influence on him. He gives himself a few strokes, yet stops when he releases how sensitive he is. He wants to make this last. He needs to make this last. He knows that every second he spends inside you is bound to feel like heaven on earth.

Daryl crawls over to you. You part your legs without him needing to ask, your eyes lidded and hair messily framing your face. He lines himself up at your entrance yet makes no movement beyond that. This isn’t an act that’s meant to be rushed through — no, he intends to savor every second as if it were his last. The intensity of his stare can only be matched by yours. It’s an intimate moment, this little reality you carved out together, apart from the struggle and anguish you’d both become so familiar with.

He knows it won’t magically go away. You know it too. But if you have one another, you can both start living again instead of surviving.

“Still sure you want this?”

“I’m sure,” you whisper in a voice meant for his ears and no one else’s. “Please.”

Daryl handles you with care he didn’t even know he was capable of. He begins to push into you, sucking in a breath while he does so, his eyes glued to your face for any signs of discomfort. Your warmth wraps around him and draws him in. When he’s halfway inside, your hand grabs his, fingers intertwining. He stops, rubbing circles into the top of your hand with his thumb, silently admiring every way your face contorts while adjusting to his length. You inhale and exhale shakily before nodding your head, giving his hand a squeeze. He groans when he’s sunk all the way inside you.

You both stay like that for a moment, breathing in each other’s air.

“Have I ever told you,” he almost sounds pained when he speaks, “That you’re fuckin’ gorgeous?”

You give him one of those melodious laughs that makes his heart do things. “This’d be the first time.”

“Won’t be the last.”

You crane your neck to give him a chaste kiss. He’s about to chase after your lips when you pull away, but the words you say next cause all his higher thought to temporarily cease. “You can move now. Fuck me, Daryl.”

He feels himself twitch inside you and curses under his breath. It’s slow at first, so he can gauge what sort of rhythm you might like. The roll of his hips is sensual, his admiration of your facial expressions bordering on worship. Your hands go to his back to find purchase, unintentionally pulling him even closer in the process, and he grunts. He sets a steady pace. You throw your head back into the pillow, letting all your pretty noises out for him unabashedly. Praises fall from your lips, reassuring him of how good he’s making you feel, and how you want everything he’s willing to give. The encouragement makes his chest swell with pride.

You chose him. Out of everyone you could’ve pursued, you gave your affection to him, and that knowledge alone almost feels better than the way your walls flutter around his length.

“I care about you,” he pants into your ear, a declaration that makes you whine. “Have for so long. Want— want to show you. How much you mean t’me.”

Daryl hears you try to muster up a response in between your gasps, but it’s no use, you’re too lost in the throes of pleasure. He notices the way your moans grow higher in pitch, the sound music to his ears. Utilizing what little brain power he has left, he figures you must be getting close. The fact you’re going to come undone around him spurs him on. His fingers find their way to your clit, rubbing rushed circles around it. You tighten around him and it takes all the strength he has not to collapse on you, lost in the dizzying feeling.

There’s no more precision to his movements, everything is messy and frenzied.

You let out a cry of his name, and then a high-pitched whimper of, “I’m—”

And just like that, you unravel for him, nails digging into his skin and hips thrusting forward to meet his. He wills himself to stave off his own release so that you can enjoy yours. The sight and sounds you let out might be the most erotic thing he’s ever seen, he etches every detail of it into his memory.

He loves you, he loves you, he loves you.

Daryl pulls out once he’s certain you’re done, fucking his fist like a man possessed. It doesn’t take much for him to come undone after witnessing what you just showed him. A gruff rendition of your name leaves his lips as he spills out onto his hand, his release coming out in spurts, coating his palm in white.

You both stay still for a few moments, taking the time to catch your breath. You’re the first to move, sluggishly at that, sitting up on your elbows and giving him a content smile. He’s about to cradle your face and put his forehead against yours when he recalls his release is still on his hand. He shifts to get up, noting the attached bathroom in this room. You stop him before he gets the chance, gingerly wrapping your fingers around his wrist, stilling his hand in the process. He gapes like a fish out of water as you lick the remnants off his skin, closing your eyes and humming as if it was the best thing you’d ever tasted.

When you finish helping yourself, you give each of his knuckles a kiss. “I think the bones in my legs are broken. For real this time.”

Daryl snorts at the callback to your prison days, fond nostalgia swirling in his head.

“Need me to carry ya?”

You outstretch your arms for him. “Yes, please.”

He knows you’re being dramatic but can’t bring himself to care. He lifts you up, taking care not to trip on any of the clothes strewn on the floor, then sets you down on the sink’s granite counter. You both help yourselves to some nearby washcloths to get cleaned off. He kisses your shoulder when you’re done. Once back inside the bedroom, he slides his boxers back on, and you, your undergarments. You throw your back onto the bed and stretch, letting out a cute little noise while you do so.

Daryl’s feeling exhausted himself, but he figures you both shouldn’t be missing for too long. It’d make the others worry.

“I’m claiming this as our bedroom,” you fluff out a pillow before laying it down. The way his heart skips a beat at your usage of the word ‘our’ almost embarrasses him. Almost. “I’m not going to let you keep sleeping out on the porch. It hurts my back just thinking about it.”

He makes his way back over to you, footsteps silent against the hardwood. The second he lays down, you’re cozying up against his side, resting your head on his chest. His arms wrap around your frame as if he’d done it a million times before. It’s divine, hearing your steady breathing, feeling the warmth of your body. Despite everything, you’re still here. So is he.

He’ll do anything to keep it that way.

You lift yourself up to get a good look at him, your hair tickling his face. “Hey.”

He grunts to prove he’s listening.

“I love you,” you give him a kiss on his forehead, then his nose, and finally, his lips. “Thank you for letting me.”

The words from his brother on that sweltering day breathe down his neck. For some reason, the specific verbiage can’t form in his mind, it’s more of a muffled voice coming from another room. The sentiment is still there. Piercing, meant to hurt his heart in ways a weapon never could. That deep of a wound won’t heal itself overnight, yet if you’re the one holding the thread and needle, he thinks it can finally start closing.

He only whispers his next words when you press your forehead against his.

“I love you too. More ‘n anything.”

There’s a mischievous glimmer in your eyes which makes him nervous. Uh oh. He knows that look.

“… Enough to be my croquet partner tomorrow at noon?”

“Hell no.”

Unfortunately for him, you know as well as he does that if you keep asking nice enough, he’s bound to give in eventually.

He always does.

[juuuulez]

Hi, Jules! I really really LOVE your Capulet series! I was wondering if you could do a little imagine regarding the reader's identity as a Saviour, and the Alexandrian people being against it. Carl being Carl comforts the said reader.

Sidenote, words of affirmation>the rest of the love languages

info: Carl Grimes x Saviour! Reader, short and sweet, Carl is a cutie, reader is Negan’s daughter.

summary: When it seems everyone is against you, your boyfriend Carl is there to help.

YESSS thank you i hope to be everyone’s #1 writer for saviour reader because i LOOVVE this concept

It had been a rough week.

This whole war-thing was getting a little tiring. Of course, you loved the Saviours, and were grateful to be trusted with responsibility over the group. But some days, it got a little much, until everything started bubbling up and suddenly you’d do something stupid.

Today, that stupid had come in the form of an argument with Dwight. Both of you were stubborn, so it just built and built, until you snapped. You’d threatened him, directly, with the iron once more. It had worked, at the time, but you copped quite the scolding from your father, Negan, about empty threats.

Lack of follow-up made people perceive you as weak, therefore you couldn’t just hand out threats without any intention, no matter how irritating the argument. It wasn’t worth loosing the respect of your followers.

Which, you understood, of course. But then again, you were just a teenager. Sometimes teenagers were stupid, and had a tendency to run their mouths. Yet, you couldn’t be granted this privilege. No, you had to be a good leader, always. There wasn’t any room for errors.

It all came crumbling down in Alexandria, where you’d accompanied a small handful of Saviours to get a specific list of supplies.

Recently, Negan had acquired a new wife, which you chose not to comment on. After all, you didn’t necessarily agree with the tactic, and still held a soft-spot for Lucille. Therefore, you said nothing.

But, you were in need of some new furniture. Half of the supplies had already been acquired from Hilltop, and now you led the team to collect whatever was left from Alexandria.

Your temper was still simmering, quickly becoming exasperated with the slightly snide remarks from those you had to talk to. As usual, they let you through the gates, no longer protesting when you came to retrieve supplies.

But you still knew how much everyone resented you. It was obvious in the way they suddenly became cautious, or, began whispering once more the second you walked past. It was all just getting a bit much.

Thankfully, your boyfriend was like a breath of fresh air.

Figuring the Saviours could handle themselves, you retreated further through the town to find Carl, who was currently watching Judith. The toddler in question laid across a plaid picnic blanket in the grass, messily colouring with some crayons. It made you smile.

As usual, you were quick to sink into Carl’s arms, pleased with the way they fit around you perfectly. “Hey, baby.” He’d mumble into your hair, inhaling the familiar scent of somebody he loved.

“Rough day?” He would ask, immediately, sensing that something was off simply by the prolonged hug. You’d simply nod, head pressed against the bare skin of his neck, needing the contact to last a little longer in order to forget about everything.

A small moment of peace came easily, for you settled down next to Judith, watching her colour. Carl rested against your side, an arm still draped over you, similarly enjoying the moment you shared with his sister.

It was touching, knowing that despite everything, despite who you were, you held respect and admiration for his family. The people important to him. Maybe it was a soft spot, children, or maybe you just genuinely wished to indulge in this part of Carl’s life.

Unfortunately, it didn’t last too long.

Moments later, and Rick had returned, a watchful eye immediately cast on you three.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” He asked, suspicion laced in his tone. “Like, making sure your men don’t overstay their welcome? I expect them gone. Soon.”

Because that’s what you are. A leader, an extension of your father. You have a responsibility here.

“Yeah, yeah.. I’ll get onto it.” You agree, brows furrowed in an unconscious look of discontent. After all, God forbid you have a moment of relaxation.

To add salt to the wound, Rick decides to take Judith, too. The girl quietly fussed over leaving the crayons behind, but otherwise goes without too much complaint. Leaving behind you, and Carl. Oh, and a sour taste in your mouth.

You must have been visibly glaring, as within seconds, Carl’s touch has returned. His hand gently runs down the expanse of your back, fingertips lightly scratching over the material of your shirt.

“He’ll come around. I’ll make sure.” Carl claims, a certain amount of certainty in his voice. The declaration catches your attention, looking back at your boyfriend with furrowed brows.

You sigh, “I can hardly imagine Rick warming up to me.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean he gets to treat you like—“

“Like a criminal?” You cut him off, giving Carl a pointed look, one that conveys how this whole situation has made you feel. It’s enough that being a Saviour is so demanding, but now you’re not even permitted the slightest amount of downtime.

Carl leans down, peppering your shoulder with little kisses. Its so, so sweet, how he’s trying to make you feel better. “Maybe. But I love you, so he’ll realise that eventually, you aren’t going anywhere.”

The sentiment causes you to finally smile, tilting your head to look at Carl. “You love me?”

“Of course,” He confirms, arms wrapped snugly around your waist, nose still nudging at the skin of your neck, “What’s not to love?”

Just like that, nothing else matters. You’re more than happy right there, cuddling up with Carl, laying in the sun. The Saviours are left to their own devices, some of them making the trip back home early, as you spend the rest of the afternoon letting your boyfriend tell you everything that he loves about you.

[daryltwdixon]

The Heart of Us: Chapter 1

Actually, there was something much worse than hunger, you’d come to realize: thirst.

Desperate, dry, cracked thirst that clawed at your insides, begging for even the faintest relief. It drained you of tears, left you dizzy from the slightest movement, and even your sweat seemed to dry up in the relentless Georgia heat. Walking along these endless roads didn’t help, the sun baking on the blacktop, scorching at your feet.

Georgia summers had always beaten you down, even in the best of times. As a kid, you’d sought refuge wherever you could—slipping into the cool lake near your house, wandering big department stores you never bought anything from just to stand in the AC, or sitting in front of the small fan that whirred beside you at night. But now, with the world reduced to dust and ashes, the only relief from the sun was the faint, hot shade that barely offered shelter.

You missed the cellblock of the prison, all those months ago, the thick cement walls of that fortress somehow holding a coolness, a small escape from the harsh world outside. You’d had ample water back then, clear and clean. The memory of it gnawed at you now, mocking you in the angry heat.

It had been weeks since the group had first set out on the road, every drop of water long gone, every crumb of food a distant memory. You could feel it weighing on everyone, the slow descent into desperation, the quiet resignation in each step. You knew the odds were against you; surviving in this heat with no water was a long shot. You needed something, anything, to keep going. Because out here, survival wasn’t just a choice. It was a battle, fought with each burning step forward. 

And every step reminds you of what you've lost, of the people you've lost. It’s as though each ghost leaves its mark, piling on the heaviness of each weary, hungry step. And all that time spent running, fighting, searching for somewhere that could be home, only to have it torn away. It feels like you're trapped in a cycle, finding sanctuary only to have it ripped from your grip. Finding your people again, only to then have them torn from you too, bits of your hardened heart going with them.

And now, you’re thrown back to these endless woods with only the small handful of your family left. Hunger gnaws at you, but the thirst, that’s a different kind of pain—a desperate ache, a chapped reminder that even something as simple as water can’t be taken for granted anymore. The sun beats down, unrelenting, your cracked lips and dry throat proof of just how merciless the world has become. The weight of it—the hunger, the thirst, the heat—pushes you right to the edge, but you push back, one step at a time, holding on to some distant hope that another place, another refuge might be out there somewhere.

A distant snarl pulls you from your thoughts, your gaze lifting from the gray asphalt under your feet. You twist around to see a few walkers stumbling their way onto the road. Rick and Daryl are beside you, turning to look at the creatures.

“We’re not at our strongest,” Rick says, his voice rough and cracked, “We’ll get ’em when it’s best. High ground—somethin’ like that.”

You nod, taking in his appearance. His beard has grown thick, curling at the edges, his hair long and matted, clinging to the nape of his neck with sweat and grime from months without a proper wash. Judith rests in his arms, her small, tired eyes closed in sleep. She’s been so quiet—too quiet, really. Maybe she’s already used to the life of uncertainty, but you’re grateful for it. Each peaceful breath feels like a small miracle, her silence potentially saving you all from the detection of the undead.

You glance over at Daryl, who walks with slow, measured steps, his gaze turning back to the road without a word. There’s something unspoken weighing on him—something more than exhaustion, more than thirst or hunger. Rick notices it too, his voice low and careful when he speaks.

“It’s been three weeks since Atlanta.” Rick’s tone is gentle, “I know you lost somethin’ back there.”

Daryl doesn’t respond, and silence stretches between you all, thick and heavy. Judith finally breaks it with a soft, fussy whimper, a sound that pulls your attention immediately.

“She’s hungry,” Daryl mutters, sounding almost relieved to shift the focus.

“She’s alright. She’ll be alright,” Rick assures, almost more to himself and readjusting her slightly, a flicker of fatherly protectiveness in his eyes.

But you can’t ignore the truth any longer. “We need to find water,” you say, voice firmer. “And food.”

Rick looks up at the sky, squinting at the clouds gathering in thick clusters. “We’ll come across somethin’ along the road,” he says, his tone laced with hope. “And it’s gonna rain sooner or later.”

Without another word, Daryl hands you his gun. “I’m gonna head out,” he says, barely meeting your gaze. “See what I can find.”

You take the gun instinctively, but the moment he moves to step away alone, your jaw tightens. “I’m comin’,”

“No.” he says with firmness, not meeting your eye, a flicker of irritation crossing his face, but Rick interrupts before you can protest. “Either way,” he says, “don’t be too long.”

You fall in line with Daryl, determination in every step, but he stops short at the edge of the road where the brush begins to thicken. He turns, his expression stubborn.

“What?” you ask, squinting up at him. “You gonna stop me?”

He scoffs, shaking his head in frustration. But he knows better than to argue when you’re like this, so he turns and continues on, letting you follow him into the woods, your silent defiance matching his reluctance step for step.

You trail quietly behind him for a while, moving carefully through the tall, dry grass, each step releasing a faint crackle underfoot. The earth beneath you feels as parched as your own throat, the air heavy and stifling.

“Anything?” you ask, though the answer’s obvious. By now, you both know the signs of any water source, any traces of life.

“Nah, too dry,” he murmurs, his voice barely carrying above the brittle sounds of the grass.

A sense of defeat tightens in your chest. “We should head back,” you whisper, but he doesn’t turn, just mutters over his shoulder for you to go.

You hesitate, his reluctance tugging at something deep inside you. “Dare,” you say softly. He stands still, his gaze fixed somewhere distant, somewhere that isn’t here.

Stepping closer, you pull out the knife in its leather holster, the one Carol had given you from Beth. You hold it out, the weight of it a reminder of her kindness, of the bond between them. “This was hers… Carol gave it to me. I thought… ya know,” the words falter, hanging between you both.

He doesn’t speak, but his hand reaches out, fingers curling around the smooth leather. When his eyes finally lift to meet yours, you catch a glimpse of the pain he tries so hard to hide—the sorrow swirling in his stormy blue gaze, raw and exposed and it breaks your heart.

“I didn’t know her like you did,” you say, voice trembling slightly. You swallow hard, struggling to find the right words. “Whatever happened with you two before—” He looks away, the flicker of his jaw tensing, but you press on, “Whatever it is, I understand. She was someone special to you, Dare. I know you.”

Your hand lifts, gently pushing back the hair that clings to his damp forehead. You let your knuckles rest against his cheekbone, feeling the rough texture of his skin, the warmth beneath. “You don’t have to carry this alone, my love,” you whisper, voice tender. “Let yourself feel it.”

He doesn’t look away this time, his blue eyes searching yours with a quiet intensity, like he’s looking for something he’s afraid he’s already lost. You stay there, fingers lightly tracing the rough lines of his face, a wordless promise that whatever weight he carries, you’ll bear it with him.

For a moment, he just stares at you, the hurt and exhaustion written in every line of his expression. You can feel the heaviness between you, thick with memories and losses too big to name, a shared grief that binds you closer than words could ever manage.

Slowly, your hand drops from his face, the warmth of his skin lingering on your palm. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t move, but there’s something between you—a silent understanding, a kind of acceptance of the broken pieces you both carry. And in that silence, you know he understands. You step back, beckoning him with your hand to follow you back to the road.

➳

Later that day, after the group finally managed to shake off the walkers trailing behind them. Maggie falls into step beside you, recounting the scene at the bridge—how they’d let the dead stumble forward, only to sidestep at the last moment and send them tumbling into the dried ravine below.

“It was a good idea,” you say, glancing up ahead at Rick, who’s leading the way. "Gotta hand it to him."

You share a quick grin, both of you settling into a comfortable silence for a few steps. As you walk beside Maggie, a sense of relief warms you. You know the grief she’s carrying, the quiet weight she doesn’t want to talk about, and you’re grateful for this small, almost normal moment between you both.

Carl calls out to his dad, spotting something up ahead on the road. As the group crests a small hill, you see it—a scattering of cars, some tilted at odd angles, the remnants of an abandoned pile-up baking under the sun.

Daryl grunts beside you. “I’m gon’ head into the woods and circle back,” he mutters, glancing toward the tree line.

Without a second thought, you step in line to follow him, but he stops, turning back with a look that holds you in place. “Alone. And I mean it.”

The words sting, but you know he isn’t pushing you away to hurt you; he just needs to be alone for now. Reluctantly, you give a slow nod, reaching out to brush your fingers against his, holding on for a brief moment before letting go. It’s a silent connection, a wordless be safe that you both feel without needing to say it.

Turning back to the road, you join the others, scouring the scattered cars. The heat seems to make everything blur together, and you don’t find much of use, but movement across the way catches your eye—Maggie, struggling with the trunk of a car. You make your way over as she raises her gun to the back of the lock, her jaw tight with determination.

But something about the tension in her hands makes you reach out, your fingers gently coaxing the weapon from her grip. “Hey,” you whisper, eyes soft as you take in her face, streaked with grime and traces of tears that have dried in the dust. “Mags.”

“There’s one… one still in there,” she murmurs, her voice breaking. “I shut it, but it’s still there.”

She doesn’t meet your gaze, but you nod, releasing her hands to try the lock yourself. The key is jammed, but with a little effort, you straighten it out and give it a wiggle until the trunk finally clicks open. The lid creaks up, revealing the walker inside, mouth gagged with a rag, hands and feet bound in fraying rope. You feel a pang of sorrow for who this person once was, left to decay in a metal coffin, forgotten.

Steeling yourself, you draw your knife from your waistband and plunge it into the skull, the walker going still. Maggie’s face tightens as she nods in quiet thanks, her expression crumpling under the weight of something unspoken. You give her shoulder a reassuring squeeze, hoping it’s enough.

With the cars yielding little of use, you all settle by the edge of the road, backs to the trees, grateful for the thin line of shade that barely holds off the heat. One by one, you sink into the quiet of exhaustion, your breath slowing, shoulders slackening as the weariness sets in. The sun dips lower, and above, thunder rolls—low, rumbling, and far off but threatening. The sky has started to darken, clouds gathering with a heavy promise of rain that none of you are prepared for.

A flicker of unease settles in your chest. You scan the tree line again, the stillness there almost mocking. No sign of Daryl. He’d slipped away earlier to scout the woods on foot, leaving you with a terse nod and that familiar look—a look that usually means he’ll be back before you can start worrying. But time stretches thin, and the longer he’s gone, the harder it is to push the knot of tension down.

Then, a sharp crack of a branch echoes through the trees. Instantly, the group tenses, hands hovering close to weapons, the air thick with anticipation. You strain your eyes, heart picking up pace, readying yourself for anything. But then the figure breaks through the shadows, and you feel your shoulders relax, the tension easing as Daryl steps out from the woods, moving toward you with a purpose in his stride.

His gaze sweeps over the group, pausing when it lands on you. For a second, you think you see something flicker there—relief, maybe, or just the weariness that matches your own. His face is streaked with sweat and dirt, shoulders rigid beneath the weight of his crossbow. He crosses the clearing, shaking his head to signal Rick, no water out there , but his eyes meet your gaze, a faint flick of his head directing you to shift, and you feel his hand land gently on your shoulder as he steps behind you. Settling against the tree, he tugs you back into him with a weary sigh. The heat clings to both of you, thick and unrelenting, but his presence is a balm, a small comfort in a world full of jagged edges. He’s been distant lately, but this—his hand on your shoulder, his steady breath behind you—makes up for it, even if just for a moment.

Then, a rustling sound across the road pulls your attention, close to where Daryl had emerged. You tense, watching with bewilderment as a pack of dogs steps into view, their fur matted and their eyes feral. Their collars hang loosely from their necks, grim reminders of the lives they once had. They crouch low, barking in short, sharp bursts, muscles tense as they eye you, ready to attack.

Instinctively, you reach for your knife, unsure how to handle this—how to face creatures that, just like you, are desperate, hungry, and barely surviving. They could attract the dead, and you can’t afford another threat right now. Just as Rick leans forward, Sasha’s gun goes off, each shot a soft hiss with her silencer, taking down the dogs before they can make a move.

The barking stops abruptly, replaced by a heavy silence. Rick quickly begins gathering branches and wood, from the side of the road, building a fire around the group as everyone settles down again.

That night, you pick at the food you’ve been given, forcing each bite down as you avoid looking at those collars. It’s sustenance, just enough to keep going, but every mouthful reminds you of what it took. Daryl eats in silence behind you, chewing with a quiet intensity, while you keep your eyes locked on the fire, willing your mind to go anywhere else.

Movement catches your attention as Father Gabriel steps into view. Without a word, he reaches up, removes his clerical collar, and drops it into the flames. You watch as it curls and blackens in the fire, feeling a strange finality settle over the camp.

[intothedysphoria]

Depending on your point of view, coming across Billie Hargrove’s Instagram account was either the best or the worst thing to ever happen in Stevie’s life.

Stevie didn’t even know that butches could have long hair but this one did. Granted in a douchey eighties mullet type of way. She also had a very pronounced six pack which she was not attempting to hide in any of her photos. Crystal blue eyes. A winning smile. Shit.

Billy, they/she, basketball stan and cringe Judith Butler supporter- 60% girl, 40% something else-meanest lesbian ever

Over the course of about three weeks, Stevie had looked over that profile at least six times a day. They were mesmeric and Stevie found herself wanting to be consumed. She’d never felt this way about a boy before. Not even Tommy Hagan who she’d dated for over a year before they split. And Billy was in fucking L.A. Nothing was ever going to happen between them.

Still, she found herself sliding into their DMs just before going to get her hair done. Nothing too I’ll-stab-you-and-keep-your-body-in-the-basement but like casual. Maybe a little flirty. They didn’t seem like they had a girlfriend.

What she ended up messaging was “hi Billie! You don’t know me but I love your jeans where did you get them from ☺️”

Smooth Stevie. Very smooth.

She couldn’t even talk to her hairdresser during her hair appointment because she was so embarrassed by what she’d done. A small part of her genuinely considered setting her phone on fire until she checked it again after her highlights were in.

Incredibly surprisingly to Stevie, Billie responded and not even that, responded very positively indeed.

It was all Hey pretty girl and smirking emojis and I got my jeans from this underground thrift store or whatever and Stevie didn’t exactly take any of the information in because she was so incredibly flustered.

If she flattered herself, Stevie knew she was pretty. She knew she had big eyes and glossy hair and full lips which usually led to a line of guys queuing up for a shot. Billie wasn’t like any of those frat guys she was used to or the pretentious hipsters she’d dated later on in college. If there was chasing that was going to be done, Stevie was going to have to do it herself.

A gratifying squirm started in her gut the next day, when she realised that Billy had followed her back. Stevie may have been far too chickenshit to actually message her back but still. Progress was progress.

They danced around talking for a bit. Billie always liked her stories but there was never actually any flirting. Just a palpable tension. Something waiting to begin.

Stevie was not a patient woman. So she decided to push it forward a little.

Posting a thirst trap wasn’t something Stevie had done since she was bored during lockdown but how hard could it be? It had to be like riding a bike or some shit. So she just uploaded a couple of pictures, no overthinking it.

After deleting about thirty different messages from guys, all of whom were being creeps in different ways, Stevie finally got to the message she hoped she’d get from Billie. For all the anxiety leading up to it, the actual content was remarkably short.

Cute 💖😙

Robin picked up after the third ring. Judging by the time of her voice, Stevie had definitely woken her up from a nap. Whoops.

“What the fuck is it dingus?” Ouch.

Stevie tried to answer without sounding like an absolute moron.

“Robin how do you know if a lesbian is flirting with you?”

The long silence indicated to Stevie that she’d absolutely sounded like a moron.

“What did she say dingus?”

Stevie told her then she hung up. Which seemed harsh.

Billie messaged again the following day. Again it was brief.

Sorry if I misread. I’ll leave you alone now.

Stevie had never scrambled to reply to a message as fast in her life. Begging Billie not to leave, she wasn’t very good at this type of flirting but she wanted to try.

Billie seemed a lot less bummed after that. And much flirtier. They’d explained about their ocd, the constant fear of being creepy or a bad person stopping her from messaging Stevie more. But now that they were talking they could try. If Stevie wanted.

Stevie did want. She wanted very much.

And when finally visited Billy one person about five months later and they were doing dumb first date stuff, being in love, she thought that was a pretty good story to tell their grandkids about how they’d met.

Embarrassing. But good.

@shieldofiron @dragonflylady77 @oopsiedaisiesbaby @thatgirlwithasquid @robthegoodfellow

[rollercoasterwords]

hey rae! you said you haven’t been reading many fics lately and i was wondering what were your favorite books you read this year :))

LOVE this question omg thank u 4 giving me an excuse 2 talk abt books <3 i'm gonna split this into fiction + nonfiction + poetry...will try 2 keep it somewhat concise but. fear it may get long...

fiction

the archive of alternate endings, by lindsey drager [favorite book i've read all year]

how to live safely in a science fictional universe, by charles yu

giovanni's room, by james baldwin

stone butch blues, by leslie feinberg

i'll give you the sun, by jandy nelson

and then i woke up, by malcolm devlin

on earth we're briefly gorgeous, by ocean vuong

cursed bunny, by bora chung

i have the right to destroy myself, by young-ha kim

infect your friends and loved ones, by torrey peters

the bloody chamber and other stories, by angela carter

at least we can apologize, by lee ki-ho

nonfiction

playing the whore: the work of sex work, by melissa gira grant

cistem failure: essays on blackness and cisgender, by marquis bey

gender trouble: feminism and the subversion of identity, by judith butler

essays against publishing, by jamie berrout

trans liberation: beyond pink or blue, by leslie feinberg

females, by andrea long chu

socialism: utopian and scientific, by friedrich engels

capitalist realism: is there no alternative? by mark fisher

whipping girl: a transsexual woman on sexism and the scapegoating of femininity, by julia serrano

poetry

soft science, by franny choi

grit, by silas denver melvin

in the pines, by alice notley

[judediangelo75]

Day One: Quidditch

I said I was gonna attempt this challenge for @hphm-ship-week and by the corner of Jesus' pure white robe, I was gonna do it. I'm cutting it close with Day One and I might have gotten a *little* inspired to write this one.

I'm not gonna do a lot of yapping, I'm half-dead as is. Hope you guys enjoy this Kendrick Lives AU installment. (Might as well be my new main storyline).

Word Count: 8,316

Featured MCs: David Willows, Phoenix Lang ( @that-scouse-wizard ) and Katriona Cassiopeia ( @kc-and-co )

Main Pairing: Talbott Winger x Judith Harris (Talith)

Side Relationships: Merula Synde x David Willows (subtle), Murphy McNully x Katriona Cassiopeia (subtle), and plenty of friendship

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

Whenever Quidditch season rolls around in the magical school called Hogwarts, you can expect a lot of excitement and hype. The students would crowd their section of the respective house with colored face paint or some Quidditch-afflicted gear to cheer on the players on the field. There was always a sense of friendly rivalry, with its occasional resentment when it comes to a reigning champion. But nothing comes from it. 

The Quidditch pitch is the last place you would ever expect a Ravenclaw loner to be.

Let alone amid the Hufflepuff House section. Wearing one of their player's jackets magically sized up to fit his frame. Next to a Slytherin witch wearing a matching jacket to the boot.

But that was before he started dating a Quidditch player.

Talbott would've gladly flown under the radar during his school years at Hogwarts. But fate decided that would be too boring for him. He was given two years of peace until his third year. Where two Hufflepuffs were searching for him, Hogwarts Curebreakers.

David Willows and Judith Harris. The latter is more infamously known as "Scarface". 

Granted, Talbott knew about these two Hufflepuffs... but Judith proved to make a bigger splash than her Housemate. From what Talbott understood, Judith had the habit of hiding the left side of her face with her hair for the first few months of their first year. It wasn't until a fateful day in October, that a group of Slytherins and Gryffindors found a new target. Judith tried escaping the group, only for one of the boys to grab her by the ponytail, causing her hairstyle to fall apart.

Revealing the most nastiest burn scar anyone has seen. On a child, nonetheless.

To make a long story short, those group of boys learned quickly not to piss off a girl—a Hufflepuff girl, at that.

After that day, rumors about her scar spread across the school like wildfire. And she was christened with her new nickname, Scarface.

But that day in the Great Hall was the first time Talbott properly saw the young witch face to face. Even Talbott's impeccable poker face couldn't hide the surprise upon seeing her face. The large scar covered about half of her face and went back to her ear. Surprisingly, her brow was present, but a bit spotty in some places. Her eye was forced into a permanent glare, he could barely make out the gold of her iris (even though that particular eye looked a bit paler than its twin).

But that wasn't the thing that stole Talbott's attention. It was the almost painfully shy look on her face. Her brows were drawn close together as her lips were pulled down in a timid frown. Her fingers were fiddling with the multiple solid plain rings she had on. Her eyes...

Talbott could see that she was nervous, but there was a particular warmth that seemed to be reserved for just for him. It was confusing but...

He couldn't help but secretly like it. Even though he wasn't ready to admit it.

Took a while for the Ravenclaw to properly acknowledge his feelings for the Hufflepuff witch. With the encouragement of Andre and David, he finally asked Judith out on a date. While it left a lot to be desired (*cough* Tonks *cough*), Talbott enjoyed being close to his date. Amid their growing closeness, that meant Talbott was slowly being sucked into the world of Quidditch. Granted, Andre has been trying to get him to come to a match and teach him the mechanics of the game since the start of their friendship, but Talbott turned him down almost every time. But now with Judith as his blatant love interest... Talbott couldn't help to be a little curious about the sport the wizarding world seem so crazy about.

Honestly when Talbott learned that Judith was the famous "Tigress", he was skeptical. Tigress is one of Hufflepuff's Beaters, one of their best Beaters in many years. With the few snippets of information, Andre tried forcing down his throat, Talbott knew that Beaters were strong. They had to be to beat back iron spheres formerly known as Blooders (Andre would be happy to know that he was learning something, at least). Tigress, like her fellow Beater Hound (who Talbott came to learn was David), was incredibly strong with a deadly aim. A lot of people say it was as if she could interpret the Bludgers movements, knowing when and where to strike. 

Talbott couldn't keep the suspicious look out of his eye for anything when Judith said that she was Tigress during their date. He never asked her about her scar but he had eyes. And he could see that her left eye left her a little impaired. It was the one time he made the girl feel subconscious about herself during their date, which he internally slapped himself for as she turned the left side of her face away from his view.

"I know it sounds hard to believe that I'm Tigress, but I have no reason to lie to you. After my... incident, it took some time to even learn to properly walk. My coordination and balance was terrible. Before, I could only see the vague shadows of shapes. After you helped me become an Animagus, it surprisingly helped my vision in my left eye, though not by much. The outline of shapes are a bit sharper if it's close enough to me and I can kinda see colors if it's bright enough, but there are times my vision will get a little blurry. My dad, along with my little brother and stepdad, spent a lot of time helping me adjust to my scar after I first got it. I was determined not to let it hinder me, though. Papa was the first to train me to be a Beater. I spent the entire summer before second year so I would have a chance to prove myself... to show that I won't be a liability if I was chosen."

Talbott felt like a bastard for doubting the girl, something that she probably felt for years. After stumbling over his apology, he asked if he could watch her play or at least practice if she was comfortable with that. He wanted to understand her and be there for her if she would let him.

And to his pleasant surprise, she readily agreed. 

During that time, Quidditch season was long over. Normally around that time of the year, Judith and David were trying to break the latest curse that befell the school in hopes of finding their brothers. But Judith was human.

A human who was very familiar with stress.

Beating dummies with Bludgers seemed to be one of her many stress relievers. The first time he was invited to watch her practice, he was silently surprised. It was slowly starting to warm up as winter turned to spring in Scotland. Judith was already stretching, seemingly counting the seconds in her mind before switching forms. A yellow sleeveless crop top molded to her upper body and a pair of black athletic tights hugged her legs with black running shoes adorned her feet, presumably for comfort. Her long locs were maneuvered into a low ponytail by a yellow silk ribbon. Granted, Talbott had only seen Judith outside of her usual class robes only a handful of times, but he had rarely seen her show so much of her body and skin until recently.

While being only 15, Judith had muscles a lot of guys in their year and possibly older wished had. But the muscles didn't make her seem like a boy, rather it added to the curves her body was slowly displaying as she matured into a young woman. The dress she wore to their date made him feel like he was hit with the Stupefy spell. Her workout outfit seemed to have a similar effect.

But watching her practice?

Nothing could get him to look away from her. She easily slipped into the familiar notion of her practice exercise. She had three Bludgers sent out, each coming towards her with terrifying speed. Talbott couldn't remember all the details of Quidditch but he can safely assume getting hit by one of those iron spheres meant an overnight stay in the Hospital Wing. But Judith stepped into her swings with the confidence and swagger of the best duelists or even a Quidditch pro. Confident, focused, and calculating. He did take note that she would duck on a rare occasion when she took a misstep and leaned into her left side.

Gods know how much time has passed until Judith whipped out her wand and froze the Bludgers, which dropped to the ground with a frightening thud.

'I would love to never know what it's like to smack with one of those...'

Judith grabbed a water bottle before walking around and sitting next to the awestruck Ravenclaw.

"So what do you think," she asked before taking a swing of her water. He watched as her throat worked around the deep gulps of water she was taking in.

"Is it possible I can come to more of your training sessions?" Judith capped her nearly empty water bottle with a quirked brow.

"You actually like seeing me train? Watching me beat a bunch of Bludgers into some dummies can't be that entertaining," she insisted. Talbott felt a blush work its way onto his cheeks.

"I beg to differ... so is that a no," he said with an embarrassed cough. Judith narrowed her good eye at him before giving him a nod.

"You can come. I don't mind."

It soon became a part of Talbott's routine to sit in on Judith's practices. Talbott finds that she does alternate her routine. And got to witness the relationships with her Quidditch mates. 

Sometimes it'll be just her and the dummies. 

Other times, David would be present to train with her as well. Talbott could see the playful energy between the two Hufflepuffs, almost as if they were siblings. Most times, they would practice beating a Bludger to each other, while others the dummies will be involved. There were plenty of jabs and playful ribbing in their conversations. Whenever they were done, they would join Talbott in the grass for a quick chat until Judith's eyes would get droopy and David would give her a piggyback ride back to their Common Room. 

'Hate to cut the conversation short, mate, but this one needs her rest. C'mon Little Tigress. Time for your cat nap.' Talbott watched in quiet amusement as David shifted on his knees so he could allow the girl to crawl on his back before standing. The young witch yawned, nuzzling the back of her best mate's neck with an annoyed grumble.

'Mmmm... I'm not little, you stubborn git. Later bird boy...' With a cute little wave to the Ravenclaw, Judith allowed herself to be toted away to their shared Common Room. (Talbott would deny blushing at that nickname if you asked him)

Maybe even one (or both) of her on-sight Beater teachers, the fierce Erika Rath or the mischievous Phoenix Lang, would be present. Which he found strangely interesting as Erika and Phoenix were both well-known Beaters of the Houses of Slytherin and Gryffindor respectively, prodigies in their own right. Erika seemed more of the stern one of the two, more in charge of her training exercises while Phoenix would fill in the gaps where she could. Those sessions tended to be more intense as Erika tried to push Judith into using her left side more, which frustrated the Hufflepuff Beater greatly. Talbott knew it wasn't his place to question her mentor's methods but he couldn't help but to worry how close Judith would be to getting hit by the magical sphere of iron. The hits she was able to get in weren't always perfect as far as accuracy and impact. There were times when Talbott would witness Judith would drop to her knees with tears in her eyes. The first time it happened shocked him to his core, his heart ached at the sight.

'I-I-I can't! I can't see well, Rath!' Pale green eyes narrowed briefly before letting out a soft sigh. With a brief spell, the Bludger in use fell to the ground as Erika walked up to her mentee. The older witch rested a hand on her shoulder, giving it a brief squeeze as she glanced over to where Talbott was seated.

'Talbott, was it? Can you stay with her while I find Phoenix? I... I'm not exactly good at "comforting" as I would like to be.' Talbott nodded replacing Erika by the crying girl's side as she disappeared into the castle. 

'Little bird...?' Watery gold eyes glanced at him before Judith roughly started wiping her face to get rid of the evidence of the tears that seemed neverending.

'I-I'm sorry, I... I was hoping you wouldn't have to s-see me like t-this. I promise I'm not this weak-' The girl's ramble was brought to a halt as Talbott grabbed her by the arm and pulled her into a hug, tucking her face against his neck. The soft gasp that escaped her tickled the sensitive skin there.

'I want you to breathe with me, little bird. Can you do that for me?' Judith remained still for a moment before giving a shaky nod. Talbott took a slow, deep inhale, feeling the girl do the same. They held it for a few seconds before slowly releasing it. They did it a handful of times before Talbott felt the faint tremor in the girl's body disappear. He gently pulled her away from his neck to look at her face. The tears were still there, but they seemed to have slowed significantly. Gentle hands cupped her face, thumbing away the tears and dried tear tracks that remained. Shaky hands wrapped around Talbott's wrists before Judith leaned into his touch. With one last caress to her scarred cheek, Talbott pulled away a bit only to be surprised by the ironclad grip on his wrists. Judith's eyes reminded him of a wounded Hippogriff, wild with an underlying hint of fear.

"D-don't go... please, don't go...' she whimpered. Talbott leaned in again, brushing a soft kiss to her sweaty brow.

'Shhh, darling. I promise I'm not leaving you. But it would be best if you rehydrated, little bird. Let me grab some water for you.' Judith blinked slowly, recognition flashing in her eyes. She gave a timid nod before letting go of his wrists. Silently deciding not to get up and leaving his little bird's time, Talbott got out his wand to use the Summoning Charm instead. Judith took the bottle with a small thanks before taking small sips. When Talbott was sure she was okay, he tilted her chin up so she could look him in the eye.

'I'm not sure where your head is, exactly. But I want you to know that you're not weak. You're one of the strongest people I know and even strong people can cry sometimes. They can get overwhelmed sometimes. And that's okay. I would never think less of you, and you shouldn't either. I won't let you. Do you understand me, little bird?' Talbott watched as her eyes widened, the scar tissue surrounding her left eye stretching a bit. Judith pursed her lips before giving a nod. That wasn't good enough for the Ravenclaw wizard.

'Words, Judith. I need to hear you say it.' The girl winced at the firm tone before letting out a shaky sigh.

'I-I understand, Talbott. I... I'll do my best to take it easy on myself in these moments.' Talbott gave her a small smile before placing a small kiss on her cheek.

Not even a few moments later, Phoenix came into view while Erika trailed a few paces behind. The Gryffindor Beater fell to her knees before the couple, cerulean blue eyes studying the Hufflepuff's face intensely.

'Judith! Erika told me what happened, are you okay?!' Judith blushed as Phoenix cupped her face, fussing over her. Erika sat down by her rival, silently watching her with a hint of worry. Judith cleared her throat, pulling away before resting against Talbott's chest.

"I-I'm fine now... I just got overwhelmed, b-but Talbott helped me calm down.' The eyes of the older Beaters were suddenly trained on their "guest", who blushed under their intense gaze.

'I... I'm not too familiar with what caused her anxiety, I just knew I couldn't stand there and watch her cry. Judith means a lot to me. Great players can have bad days and she's entitled to have those days...' Phoenix gave the boy a delighted grin while a glimmer of respect can be seen in Erika's eyes.

'I think I like this one for her, Rath. What do you think?' The Slytherin Beater gave an amused snort at the matching blushes that could be seen on the duo's faces.

'As long as I don't always have to find you whenever she gets overwhelmed, he can stay.'

'HEY! I resent that!' Erika let out a short laugh at Phoenix's disgruntlement. Deciding that her student/adopted little sister needed a well-deserved break, Phoenix dragged the girl to head to the Great Hall for some lunch. Just as Talbott was going to head to the Owlery, a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

'Wait.' The wizard turned to find Erika's eyes boring into him. And to his surprise, her stern gaze softened around the edges.

'I just wanted to say, thank you. Normally I don't care what people think of me, especially those who would just be stuck in the sidelines and nothing more. But I see that you care about her. I'm not trying to be a hardass on Judith for shits and giggles. We both are well aware that her left side is a weakness. I suffer from a blind spot, obviously not on the same level as Judith but you get the idea. If people are within that area, they're more than likely to get hurt. I don't want Judith to have to deal with that struggle, or even worse, have that blind spot used against her. I hope you understand.' Talbott's brows rose in silent surprise before nodding.

'I understand... you didn't have to explain your methods to me, but... I appreciate it either way. I'll do my best to be there for her whenever it gets too much for her.' Erika gave a firm nod, before turning on her heel back into the castle.'

Talbott had thought long and hard over what he had seen and what Erika had told him. He hated to see the haunted look in Judith's eyes as she broke down on not doing good enough. He was no Quidditch player so he wasn't sure how to help the girl. He went to the only other Quidditch player he knew for any advice. Granted, Talbott knew that Andre was no Beater, but he knew he had to try. Luckily for him, Andre knew two people who could help. Unluckily for him, Andre saw it fit to drag his ass out of bed on a late Saturday morning. The only day Talbott will grant himself the luxury of sleeping in. With no damn coffee.

'KC, McNully!' The two Ravenclaws, who seemed to be in the middle of a game of chess, looked up to find the Seeker Reserve dragging over one of their fellow Housemates who seemed to have rolled out of bed.

'Hey, Andre! What can we do for you?' the commentator asked with a bright grin. Andre gave a fond smile, clapping a hand on the disgruntled Ravenclaw's shoulder.

'Oh no, honestly, you've helped me enough mate. It's my friend here who could use your creative expertise on the matter of Quidditch.' Talbott shrugged Andre off with an embarrassed glare. The strawberry-blonde girl raised a cool brow, flustering Talbott further.

'My apologies. I asked Egwu for help on a Quidditch issue and this overexcited bloke dragged me out of bed before I had a drop of caffeine in my system.' KC let out a hearty laugh.

'A man after my own heart. Tell you what, I made a pot of coffee this morning. I grab you a mug and you tell us what you need...' Talbott quickly understood what the witch was subtly asking for.

'Talbott. Talbott Winger.' KC grinned, getting up from her comfortable seat to loop an arm around the wizard's arm.

'Katriona Cassiopeia, feel free to call me KC if you want. It's a pleasure to meet you, my fellow coffee fiend.' After Talbott had a bit of caffeine fix (and an introduction to one Murphy McNully), he felt more level-headed about broaching this topic.

'So, what seems to be the problem? Looking to join the Quidditch team? While I don't know you at all, I can see you being a Seeker for some reason.' KC pointedly ignored Andre's offended squawk in the background, eyes solely trained on Talbott.

'No, I'm not looking to join. I didn't get into Quidditch until recently...' Murphy raised a brow, curious.

'Because of our local Pride of Portree fanatic here?' Talbott gave an amused snort.

'He wishes. Egwu has been trying to teach me about the sport or at least drag me a game since we became friends.' KC blinked, confusion flashing in those bright blue eyes.

'So why the interest now?' Talbott coughed into his fist, slightly flustered.

'I'm kinda dating a Quidditch player. A Beater, to be exact.' Murphy gave a knowing smile.

'Is it Judith Harris?' Talbott was glad he didn't sip his coffee when the Quidditch announcer spoke because he was pretty sure he would've spit it out all over his chessboard. Either that or choke.

'Wha-?! Did Andre tell you?!' Andre waved his hands in alarm as Talbott rounded on him with a glare. Murphy laughed, waving off the outburst.

'Well, it's simple really. There are two Beaters to every team. It can't be Rising Star here, seeing how you just met her. And I doubt you know the other Beater on Ravenclaw's team seeing how you're coming to learn the sport and its players. Even if you heard more well-known players like Erika Rath and Phoenix Lang, more well-known as Rath and Fireball on the Pitch, they don't seem like your type per se. And again, you probably don't know the other Beaters on those two teams so that rules Slytherin and Gryffindor from the running. All that's left is Hufflepuff's Beaters, Tigress and Hound. Or as you normally know them as Judith Harris and David Willows. Both are well known enough outside of Quidditch and are in the same year and you and Style Wizard here. Plus, David seems more like a lady's man so that leaves just Judith. It's really simple when you think about it.' Talbott narrowed his eyes, slightly put off at how well someone he just met was able to pinpoint his crush with just one detail and how much he could talk without seemingly taking a breath.

'Yes, it's her...' KC chuckled, giving the boy a grin.

'I think it's cute. But one thing I'm not understanding is why she would need help. She's a phenomenal player. From what I hear, she has a bit of a religious training schedule to stay up to par with anyone on the field.' Talbott sighed, suddenly feeling unsure about exposing what he knew. Technically, Katriona and Judith were rivals. While he may not know much like the average Quidditch fan, he does know not to reveal secrets to potential rivals or enemies. 

But the memory of Judith crying flashes in his mind's eye. He didn't want her to continue to suffer from anxiety attacks if he knew he could find help for her.

'I haven't seen her play but I've seen her train. And she's earned every right to be known as a phenomenal player. But... she's not one without struggle. Can I trust you two with what I'm about to tell you?' KC and Murphy watched as those red eyes carefully studied them both, heavily guarded with a glint of worry beneath the surface. Andre wore down his bottom lip with his teeth at the intense silence. He placed a hand on Talbott's shoulder.

'Tal, mate. I wouldn't have brought you to them if I didn't believe they could help Judith. Let alone hurt her.' Talbott's hands curled into fists on his lap, his gaze stubbornly switching between the wizard and witch sitting across from him.

'I trust you, Egwu. But I need to hear it from them.' KC's eyes softened.

'Hey, Judith and I may be rivals on the Pitch but it's all friendly competition. I wouldn't actively try to hurt someone who pushes me to be a better player myself.' Murphy nodded.

'I wouldn't do anything malicious to harm the girl either. I met her father on the day she tried out for the open Beater position years ago. She's a force in her own right but it's not strange to have flaws. It's not unusual for players to come to me for advice. I do my best to be unbiased so I'm not spilling any secrets to other teams to give them an advantage. Talbott let out a small sigh.

'Thank you. I'm sure you're well aware of Judith's scar. The thing is... she's semi-blind in that eye. While she can see shapes and colors, it's only with certain exceptions. She's been training to strengthen that weakness but she still experiences some difficulties. Maybe she has days where that particular eye would cause everything to be more blurry and of course, that can be a danger to anyone, including her. It overwhelms her to the point she would experience an anxiety attack...' Talbott sighed, running a hand through his messy bedhead.

'I told her that it's okay to have bad days and she should take it easier on herself. But I feel like this cycle will continue if she doesn't find a more effective way of handling this... s-so, will you help?' KC and Murphy looked at each other for a few moments before turning back to the wizard with a nod.

'Of course, Talbott. It might take a little time for us to brainstorm something but we'll help you two. Besides, it would be nice to get to know Judith more outside of our matches.' Talbott let out a sigh of relief at KC's words, giving the pair a small smile.

'Thank you...' Murphy gave Talbott a nod.

'Of course! Once we're ready for you, we'll send you an owl for you to bring Judith to the Quidditch Pitch later on. Don't worry, Talbott. We'll help your girl out.' This time Talbott did end up choking on his next cup of coffee, much to the amusement of the three people surrounding him.

Much to Talbott's surprise, Talbott received an owl the next day from KC. He did find it odd that it said to come to the Quidditch Pitch at night, but he decided to trust his fellow Ravenclaw. Judith accepted his invitation to meet him at the Changing Tents just outside of the Pitch with a bit of wariness.

'Not that I don't like spending time with you Talbott, but why are we out here?' Talbott gave his little bird a small smile.

'I want to help you train. Especially with... your struggle area...' The Hufflepuff narrowed her eyes as they reached the entrance of the Pitch.

'How do you plan on doing that?' Talbott stopped in front of her, taking the time to grab her hand. Judith couldn't fight the blush that crept up to her cheeks as the boy laid her palm over his chest while looking into her eyes. She could feel his heart quicken but his face gave nothing away.

'Do you trust me, Judith?' The young witch didn't have to think about it.

'I do.' Talbott smiled, bringing her hand to his lips to place a soft kiss to her palm.

'Then trust me when I say that I'm looking out for you. Now come on.' Judith stumbled over her feet to follow her crush, fanning her face to cool down her intense blush. They continued to walk until they were in the middle of the field. When she finally got her blush under control, she looked up to find that they were not alone.

'Judith! Glad you could make it!' Murphy greeted with a grin. The witch next to him stepped up to offer a handshake.

'Hey there, Tigress. Nice to officially meet you outside of a match.' Judith took KC's handshake with a befuddled expression.

"McNully, Rising Star, it's... nice to see you too. But, what exactly is going on here?' Now it was KC's turn to give a smile.

'Your boy here came to McNully and I for some help. To help you matter of fact in regards to your blind spot.' Talbott glared at KC's small tease before looking at the surprised face of his little bird.

'You told them about my blindness?' Talbott bit his lip at the question. He couldn't decipher her tone for it gave nothing away. Her face even more so. Outside of the pinch of her brows that signifies her confusion, he wasn't sure how the girl felt about exposing her secret to one of her rivals.

'I did. I-I... I wanted to help you in some way. But I wasn't sure as to how. I know Rath is doing her best but maybe you needed a different approach. I'm not a Quidditch player, let alone a Beater so Andre led me to two people who possibly could provide that. Please, don't be mad, little bird. I know it's your secret to tell, but I couldn't stand to see you like that again. Frustrated and feeling hopelessly lost to yourself over something that you couldn't have helped. I'm sorry if I overstepped.' Judith stared at him for a few seconds longer before bringing him into a hug. Talbott looked down at the girl in surprise but didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around her. 

'I'm not mad, bird brain. You have nothing to apologize for. I know you wouldn't do anything to hurt me, and if you think that KC and McNully can help, I'm more than willing to hear them out.' Talbott squeezed her tighter, hiding his smile in the crown of her head.

'Great to hear that! Now, Talbott if you could remove yourself from my fellow Beater Babe's person, I want to show her what we came up with.' Talbott blushed, taking a stand by Murphy as KC looped her arm with Judith's to pull her to the crate with Beater Bats and a Bludger. There was a few metal practice dummies just a few yards away. Talbott turned to the handsome blonde commentator with a quirked brow.

'Care to share what you and Katriona came up with?' Murphy gave a smirk.

'Nope! For once, my lips are sealed this time. Just watch this lovely lady at work.' Talbott sighed, watching as the two witches converse with one another. He could spy Judith fiddling with her fingers, one of her nervous ticks, before grabbing a bat. KC already had the other one in hand, with her wand in her opposite hand.

'Now I'm gonna enchant the Bludger and we're gonna practice for a few minutes. Remember, don't be too hard on yourself and I'm right here with you so you don't have to experience so many close calls, alright?' Judith nodded, allowing herself to face forward with her left just as KC cast her spell. To Talbott's surprise, the Bludger began to glow a bright yellow, almost like a mini sun, zipping through the air before making its way towards the Hufflepuff Beater. Talbott watched with bated breath as he watched the familiar motion of Judith's swing and-

BANG! And-

CLANG!

Judith's smile was brighter than the glowing Bludger that night. And Talbott couldn't have been more happy to see the pure joy on his little bird's face.

While Judith was big on her training, both day and now night, that wasn't the only thing she did to improve. There were some instances where there were no bats and Bludgers involved. Those days were usually with her Captain, Orion Amari. Talbott found those practices a bit strange as the pair would be sitting on the ground meditating (something Judith would strong-arm him into doing as well), balancing on their brooms on a single leg, or being Inspired Broom Surfing. 

'Training is great to hone your skills, but a clear and steady mind can elevate one's game to substantial heights.' Talbott turned to find Orion standing beside him as he watched Judith surf on her broom. He regarded the older Badger with a raised brow, his silent question loud in the ears of the captain.

'I've known Judith since she was just a second-year student. Seen as a small, skinny, and shy Hufflepuff girl by many but I saw the fire in her eye. A spirit beaten down, but not broken. She wanted to prove herself. Something that is admirable but I could sense it was deeper than that. You saw it too, right?' Talbott froze as Judith's words flashed back to him.

'I promise I'm not this weak...'

'Yeah, I did...' Orion gave the young Eagle's shoulder a warm squeeze.

'You're good for her, you know? I noticed a shift in my Beater. She's not as hard on herself as she used to be. Her smile is brighter. And that only happened a little after you started coming around. And I greatly appreciate that...' Talbott swallowed around the emotional lump in his throat.

'I-It's nothing really. I would do anything for her...' Orion smiled, giving Talbott's shoulder another squeeze.

'The people who love her can see that. Trust me when I say that it means a lot to them and to her...' With that Orion hopped on his broom to surf alongside his student. Talbott watched as Judith gave her captain a bright smile, feeling one make his way on his own lips.

'She's so beautiful like this. In her element. Happy and healthy...'

Seeing her go through these different motions made him think of what she said on their date. How much she represents and values balance in her life. It just made her all the more intriguing and endearing to him.

It wouldn't be until their 5th year when he got to see her practice with her team. While they were real matches, Talbott always found them to be interesting and exciting. Seeing her play in action made him realize how good his little bird was and how well she and David worked together on the field. Even down to the Dobbleganger Defense, one of the most difficult plays for a Beater. The pride he would feel upon hearing the praise of her skill by the Quidditch commentator warmed his chest.

He couldn't wait for the girl's first game of the season.

Of course, he could've done without the pressure of meeting the girl's family. Talbott knew about her father through many sources. A former Beater-a Ravenclaw Beater at that, Talbott knew about her little brother, a Slytherin wizard in his third year if he remembers correctly, who he would see cling to her whenever he could get the chance. How he managed to avoid the little brother up until now is beyond him, but there was no avoiding it when the first fame of the season came around. It was Hufflepuff versus Ravenclaw.

There was usually a pregame party happening in the Courtyard before each game but Talbott knew his little bird well enough that she wasn't always one for mingling with others, at least not often. The next best place she would be is the Quidditch Pitch. 

Flying to the pitch was much faster than walking, and Talbott wanted to spend every second with the Hufflepuff Beater before her match. It wasn't until he was flying overhead that he realized that she wasn't alone. Part of him wanted to turn around and transform back into his human form so he could walk into the stadium instead. But Judith, ever so keen with her surroundings, spotted him. She waved him down with a bright smile, while the two males with her looked up to find him circling in the sky.

"Come down, love! I want you to meet my family," she called. After hesitating for a few seconds, he swooped down to land in front of the trio. The man and young boy looked at the eagle with a well-timed head tilt, though Talbott could see the suspicion in the man's pale gold eyes while there was a youthful glint of curiosity in the boy's near-black eyes. He looked to his little bird who gave him an encouraging smile. With that, he allowed himself to transform back into his human form. The boy flinched back before staring at him in awe. The older male version of his little bird only smirked.

"Like mother, like son," her father chuckled. Talbott eyed the man suspiciously. 

"I'm sorry?" Gold eyes regarded him with a knowing glint.

"Ah, you don't recognize me, don't you son?" Talbott's brow furrowed, racking his mind.

Has he met Judith's dad before? There's no way-

'Talbott, this is Kendrick Harris. He's my best friend from when I went to school. And his daughter, Judith...'

Talbott's eyes lowered to find a familiar necklace. The cord was decorated with dark red beads with a tooth of an animal of some sort.

"You... you were my parents' best friend. You came to my house that one time with..." he whispered, eyes watering. He turned to the witch next to him, finding that same warm look from that day in the Great Hall. The same look he got as they sat in the grand old tree on his parents' old property when they were children. Judith gave him a tentative smile, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

"L-Little Bird?" He watched as her smile grew.

"Yeah, it's me Bird Boy." He didn't hesitate to bring her into the circle of his arms, hugging her with all the strength she could muster. He smiled the joyful laughter in his ear.

"Talbott! You're gonna squish me," Judith giggled, hugging him back despite this. 

"You're the powerhouse Beater, little bird. If anything I should be worried about you breaking my bones with your bear hugs," he hummed. Kendrick let out a laugh at that, bursting the bubble the two teens found themselves in.

"As strong as my little girl is, she has one of the gentlest souls on this Earth. You should know," he said, with a kind smile. Talbott blushed before nodding.

"And I have you to thank for siring such a soul, Mr. Harris." Kendrick chuckled, waving him off.

"Call me Kendrick, Talbott. I'm not that old... plus, from what I heard you've proved me right. That you'll be good to my daughter and earn the right to be with her." Talbott and Judith balked at the elder Harris with blushes staining their cheeks.

"PAPA!" Kendrick raised a brow at his daughter's outburst.

"What? I'm the more tame parent. Ava had tried planning you two's wedding when you guys were toddlers," he said with an amused smirk.

"W-With all due respect, K-Kendrick, we're not officially together," Talbott stuttered. The man chuckled.

"Not yet, anyway." Judith groaned.

"Papa Kendrick, quit it. I already have to share Juju with her friends, I'll probably never see her if she gets a boyfriend," Nuri whined, finally chiming into the conversation. Talbott noticed the genuine discontentment on the boy's face. Judith huffed, extracting herself from Talbott's arms to snatch up her little brother. She placed her hands on his cheeks so she could meet his eyes.

"You listen here, Riri. No one will keep me from seeing and spending time with you. You're my little brother and will always hold a special place in my heart, understand," she said sternly. Nuri gave his sister a shy smile, before hugging her back. 

"I understand, Juju..." Kendrick and Talbott smiled at the sight before the man cleared his throat.

"The stands should be filling up soon, best if you boys find some good seats. You go ahead and change, baby girl. And remember, I'm proud of you no matter the outcome." Judith smiled at her dad, giving him one quick bear hug before the man went to the commentator booth. The three of them stood ready to go their separate ways before Judith stopped her brother.

"Before I forget, here you go, Riri." Talbott watched as the Hufflepuff took off her jacket, casting the Enlarging Charm before handing it to Nuri. She pulled the younger boy down to kiss his forehead, before making her way over to Talbott's side to kiss his cheek.

"Hope to see you two in the stands," she said before jogging her way out of the Pitch. 

The two wizards made their way up to the stands. Talbott could see Nuri eyeing him from the corner of his eye.

"What is it?" Nuri flinched, a bit surprised to be caught before deciding to speak up.

"This way is the way to the Hufflepuff Stands. You're a Ravenclaw, shouldn't you be sitting with them instead?" Talbott turned to look at the Slytherin wizard with a cocked brow. The boy didn't sound dismissive or hostile, just... curious.

"I want to support Judith. She's the whole reason why I got into Quidditch in the first place. It doesn't matter to me if it looks like I'm going against my own House. I'm here for her, and will always be here for her." Nuri smiled at the wizard, handing him the jacket her sister was wearing. Talbott took it with uncertain hands.

"Why are you giving me this," he asked as they made their way up the stands. Nuri paused on his next step and gave a shy smile, long fingers messing with a ring on his right hand. The same nervous tick as his little bird.

"My sister always gave me her letterman jacket whenever she played as a way for me to be comfortable sitting in with the Hufflepuffs ever since I came to Hogwarts. I'm going to be honest, I'm pretty selfish when it comes to her, and having to share her has been difficult for me. But as I got to see her interact with others and see those people care and love her too, I began to loosen up. While this is my first time officially meeting you, I can see how you look at her. Like she's the sun. The center of your universe. Papa Kendrick seems to like you a lot and he doesn't like the idea of sharing her love with any boy. Consider this my way of showing you that I'm willing to give you a fair chance. People who love my sister tend to be my favorite people, and I think you could be one of them." Talbott felt a flush wash over his face but he couldn't help but return the smile Nuri was giving him.

"Thank you. That means a lot and I would like to get to know you better too, Riri." The Slytherin boy sent the older wizard a playful glare.

"Okay, that's a step too far. Only Juju can call me Riri. My real name is Nuri. Nuri Lockheart." Talbott laughed at the look, it reminded him so much of Judith so he knew this look well enough to know that the boy wasn't actually upset.

"Heh, got you. I'm Talbott." The two wizards shared a smile as they continued their way up and reached the top of the stands. Talbott took the time to study the jacket, a letterman jacket as Nuri called it.

It was mainly black, with two stitched designs on either side of the torso. There was a gold honey badger symbol on the left side with two Beater bats in an "X" formation on the right. The sleeves were white and a bit baggy, looking like they would fit over his wrists thanks to the yellow cuffs with black and white lines. The same cuffs outline the collar and the bottom of the jacket. It even had decently sized-pockets. He flipped it over to find the word "TIGRESS" stitched on the back, the word beautifully made with gold yarn in impressive calligraphy. Talbott slipped on the jacket and immediately smiled.

The scent of his little bird lingered on the piece of clothing and he felt as if he was being embraced by the girl himself.

'If I could get away with it, I would never take this off...'

The duo decided to sit in the center on the bottom bench, only to be surprised to find someone already there.

"Merula?" The girl's head snapped up to find the two wizards standing beside her. And it didn't escape Talbott's attention that she was wearing a matching letterman jacket as himself, only it was obvious the jacket was made for someone much bigger than her.

"What are you doing here? Ravenclaw is on the other side and Slytherin isn't playing today," she snarked. Nuri frowned at the clear dismissal but Talbott knew better.

"The same reason why you sitting in the Hufflepuff stands. We're here to support someone we care about," Talbott clapped back. The witch blushed, grumbling.

"Fine, whatever. It's not like these seats are taken..." Taking that as an obvious invitation to join her, Talbott sat down next to the self-proclaimed "The Powerful Witch of Hogwarts" while Nuri sat beside him. Within minutes, the stands were starting to fill with eager Quidditch fans and casual watchers for the game. Even though there were some weird looks from the Hufflepuffs at the two newcomers who sat in their section, no one said anything to them. There was a buzz in the air until the crowd quieted with the sound of Murphy's voice.

"Welcome Hogwarts to the first game of this Quidditch season! Are you ready for this year's competition?" The crowds roared with approval and to Talbott's personal surprise, he was right there with that.

Talbott had to admit, he was excellent at getting the crowd going as he introduced the two teams. Ravenclaw had already made their entrance and waited in the middle of the field. It was now Hufflepuff's turn. He watched as the Hufflepuff team flew in, zooming through the stadium. He watched with bated breath as the team briefly paused in front of their stand, to the joy of the students there. Judith found him and Nuri easily, her eyes reflecting her surprise at him wearing her jacket before giving them a large grin. He could see the two top canines of her teeth were capped in gold before they zoomed off to meet their opponents in the middle of the Pitch. Despite being in his own heart-melting moment, he did notice that David, who was beside his fellow Beater, gave Merula a grin of his own followed by a cheeky wink. Talbott pretended not to see the blush on the pale girl's face.

Madam Hooch made sure to set the rules between the two teams, the captains of each team gave a firm handshake, and soon the balls were in.

The game has begun.

Talbott had to admit, it was the most fun he had in a while. Despite not fully knowing what was happening (Talbott was so grateful that he befriended Nuri as he was able to explain the mechanics of the game to him), the energy was contagious. Even Merula was standing and cheering for the team. The players were fast, it was sometimes hard to keep up with the action, even with his 20/20 vision. Sometimes he opted to just watch his little bird, who was her own beautiful force of nature. He watched as her mind was constantly at work, deciphering the patterns of the Bludgers before deciding on a play. Often passing the iron sphere to David, who used it to scatter the Ravenclaw Chasers. Other times, taking out unsuspecting players with a hit of her own. His favorite moment was the well-executed Bludger Backbeat, seeing her use the scarred side to knock a Chaser off their broom while dropping the Quaffle for Orion to steal for a goal, putting points up on the Badger's board. He was so caught up in watching her, he almost missed a stray Bludger making its way to him-

"Talbott, get down-" Nuri tried to warn him, but before he could pull Talbott down, it was deflected to the Ravenclaw Seeker (whom Talbott was sure spitting out some colorful language as they were so close to catching the Snitch). Talbott could only stare in a daze as Judith hovered over him on her broom. 

"You okay, Talbott," she quietly asked. Talbott, still in shock, gave a mute nod. Judith chuckled, leaning in to kiss his cheek before flying back into the fray.

"Awww, what a sweet moment from Hufflepuff's fiercest hunter, Tigress. Saving her handsome beau from a Bludger gone rogue before comforting him with a kiss! And who said romance was dead?" Talbott buried his red face in his hands as the crowd around him cooed along with Murphy's sentiment. Before Talbott knew it, the Hufflepuff Seeker managed to catch the Snitch, signaling the end of the game.

"Give it up for the Hufflepuff team! They will move on to the next round to face off the winner of the Slytherin and Gryffindor match!"

The next hour was a blur. With the win, of course, everyone on the Hufflepuff team had to accept the congratulations from fans and their rivals alike. Speaking eagerly amongst each other and toasting with some Butterbeer. Judith spent some much-needed time with her brother and father before they had to leave.

But soon, the field was empty and it was just Talbott and Judith. The young witch didn't get a chance to say a word as she was swept up in Talbott's arms, sinking into his warmth.

"I'm so proud of you. You were amazing." She smiled.

"How can I not? I have my number one fan cheering me on, wearing my letterman jacket better than I ever could." Before Talbott could say anything, most likely to refute the claim judging by his blush, she placed a single finger to his lips.

"Seriously Talbott. You helped me in more ways than you could ever know, and I wanted to show you by playing my absolute best. Your support, whether on the sidelines during my practices or in the stands at one of my games, means everything to me. Thank you." The boy beamed as he kissed her forehead.

"Anything for my champion..."

[chiropteracupola]

WIP Game - blade, sun, or delight?

sharpe-wears-a-dress fic I still don't have a more succinct name for:

With Teresa’s hands on him, carefully manipulating his jaw between her palms, turning his head in whichever direction she pleased, he wanted to lean into her, to let his mouth fall open and moan in contentment. But he could not — the least movement might send the blade astray, and Sharpe would bear another failure-mark in a cut across his face.

henry v werewolf au:

The oldest of Exeter’s nephews was at the head of the group — taking the lead, as Henry king of England was always wont to do — and he stopped, seemingly unsure of his next step. Sunlight caught his hair, left free from cloak and hood, as he turned, scanning the trees and undergrowth for any movement. A squirrel chattered from above, and a scattered flock of crows passed, wheeling and weaving, through the expanse of dawn-grey sky — had the birds taking flight been the great rustling movement they had seen?

flintlock fortress julien/judith fic*:

Her hair was threaded with silver-gilt that could not be owed to powder now, a ripple of frost running through their sweet-ripe summer’s-end where he had been so pleased to run his fingers through her locks. And he had delighted in her disassembly of him, the way she unfastened the ribbon holding back his hair and played with the long curling locks of it. Her narrow fingertip traced the scar that spanned his cheekbone — under Judith Thornton’s touch, it was a badge of honor, silken scarlet like the favor a lady might grant her knight.

[carica-ficus]

"Nona the Ninth"

14/07/2024

Reading progress: 274/477 (57%) Read through since last update: 158

Reading this book is such a joy. I keep surprising myself by how easy it is to read. I go through twenty pages without even realizing. it I missed reading such books. I missed being so immersed in a book. Man, it feels good! I decided to share some really CRAZY ideas in this post because my reading diary is meant as a brain dump. Don't take them too seriously. I just like thinking about all the possibilities. (I'm usually wrong, but it's fun to see by how much.)

So, notes:

I was so into these last two chapters that I didn't even remember to comment.

I love how Pyrrha calls Nona all these cutesy nicknames. And how sweet and gentle she is with her.

I audibly gasped when Palamedes needed to confess to Pyrrha that Cam sold her cigarettes. Literally 😮. Only for Pyrrha to take it as a champ. (She obviously took enough shit that day.)

So, blue dot in the sky. Earth or Uranus? Or Neptune? I'm guessing we're on some moon, but not sure which one. Considering they keep talking about how hot it is and that it's almost always day, they should be somewhere near the center of the solar system. Might as well be Venus considering how everything is VERY toxic and they need to wear gas masks outside. (Addition from future me: Bruh, I have no idea.)

Palamedes, my man. 🤝 This is a guy that knows what it's all about. (The nurse thing. I'm dating one, so yeah.)

Been thinking about Harrow and how she ruled on a dead planet and how John promised her new people when she succeeded with her task as a Lyctor. New people. New future. But where do all those bodies come from? So, my random thought of the day is that maybe she got promised some of the bodies transported in the Convoy? Speculating, speculating, I know. But I decided to write this down, so I can reflect on it later. (Future me: Still have no idea what the Convoy is for, but with everything happening, this idea really is a LONG SHOT.)

HAHAHAHAHHAA Palamedes calling Cam a hypocrite. Love it.

I keep forgetting to comment, and a lot's been happening. The "little" meeting Cam, Pyrrha, and Nona had with the Crown and the Comander was insightful, but difficult to follow. I got like? Half of it? But managed to understand the most important things - there's a craft in orbit and they have no idea what it is, there's some background for the first book and Cytherea's mission, then we see Judith and Crown realizes Cam is hiding Palamedes. Marvelous.

Millie? Lol, I'd be mad too. I have no idea why Palamedes didn't react. I certainly would.

Nona's the weapon. Cool. They're growing their own Lyctor. So, the body needs to be a necromancer that ingested the soul of a cavalier? Yeah, whatever, we'll see. My money's on The Body being Nona, but who even knows at this point. (Not me.)

But one thing I am excited for (after I finish Nona) is FINALLY going into the locked tomb tag without the fear of spoilers. Can't wait!

Fuck! That's true. Nona truly is Camilla's age. And Corona's. I keep imagining her younger because she is childlike, but I shouldn't. Granted, I think that's also the point of Muir writing her like that. Nona is constantly babied and talked down to because she doesn't understand the world as the rest of them do. She can't. At least not yet. Anyway, yeah, this sentence reminded me to adjust the way I imagine Nona. She definitely needs to be a little taller in my head. (Even though she is still shorter than Camilla.)

"Beef." 🙄

HAHAHAHAH crying again. Yeah, me too, John.

Yo. What the fuck.

Makes sense because Gideon has taken over Harrow's body, but still. Huh? (At least that's my guess. I don't know)

PYRRHA'S MISSING? NOOOO.

Oh yeah, ok. Are John and Harrow somewhere by the River like how Harrow's dreams were? Also, still guessing at this point, but I've been thinking about this ever since John's chapters started. (Primarily because their location is very surreal, very dreamlike.)

"I've carried you, Warden. And I've carried your memory... I'd rather carry you." AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Ok, so... If Hot Sauce didn't know Nona was a Lyctor, what was the secret Nona told her when they were lying next to each other at school?

Okay, wrapping off here because this post got a little long. I'll do my best to finish off this book quickly because I have a trip coming up next week and I won't have the time to read which will make me frustrated because I HAVE TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENS. Anyway, I'm really, really loving Nona so far. It's very different and the pace was quite slow, but I love that about Muir's writing. Every book in this series has been a breath of fresh air, something so unique, but familiar at the same time. ❤

[kazesauce]

TWD:DD Rewatch Recap Ep 1

I'm rewatching the first season of TWD: Daryl Dixon to look for anything that stands out now that we know all the characters and how the season ends. The first episode has a lot, so this will be long. Strap in or scroll on.

Isabelle and Laurent

The series opens with a semiconscious Daryl floating on the life boat and hearing Judith say "You deserve a happy ending, too". We hear this again later when Daryl is waking up from having his burn treated. Laurent says these exact words to him the first time they meet. Knowing now that Isabelle made Laurent draw the picture of the man on the beach, I'm wondering if she overheard Daryl mumble those words in his sleep and told Laurent to say it.

At no point did it seem like a romance was being set up between Isabelle and Daryl. She tied him to a bed “for his own safety” and lied to him multiple times. She locked him out of Father Jean's office after lying about the radio being in working order, saying Daryl could use it when he was better. Daryl is in a nearly constant state of being battered and concussed, so he was in perfect shape to talk on a radio. Isabelle only went into the room when he was taking a bath because he fell asleep and nearly drowned himself. She was inspecting him and making note of his scars as an indication that he was experienced and strong. She got incredibly uncomfortable when Daryl called her out for her suicide scars because it's a remnant of her pre-nun life that she was trying to hide from him.

Isabelle was useful in this episode. She scared off the woman and her grandfather by firing a warning shot from her rifle, cauterized Daryl's burn and saved Daryl from Codron with the battleaxe Daryl used to save her earlier. I don't know why this Isabelle was immediately replaced by a woman that bragged about not being able to learn how to change a tire.

Codron

His entire crusade against Daryl is based on lies that woman told him. She killed Codron's brother and claimed Daryl tried to rob her and her grandfather when they were the ones that tried to rob Daryl. Granted, Daryl would have killed Codron's brother if she didn't intervene, but she was still the one that killed him.

Codron spent a third of his screen time in tears and was the recipient of Mother Superior's speech about how the souls of the wicked and the hungry can be redeemed. He was never going to stay a bad guy.

Genet

I couldn't pay attention to this scene for the life of me the first time I watched this episode. I can follow along now because I know who the important people are. Daryl single-handedly destroyed their experiments and nearly started a mutiny. This scene establishes that Genet prefers not to kill people that upset her. She seems to prefer psychological and physical torture based on future episodes.

Codron said he wanted to take Laurent and make him a soldier for Genet. That's a dark concept that was never revisited, thankfully.

General Observations and Parallels

Daryl told Isabelle “It's not my fight” when she was trying to convince him to stay in this episode. Daryl told Losang “Pouvoir. It isn't my fight.” in the final episode after Losang tried to convince Daryl to stay. Pouvoir des vivants is the slogan of The Cause, which The Union of Hope is warring with. It's the only French word Daryl has said the entire series and he said it to someone he knows is a native English speaker. That feels intentionally confrontational to me.

The Grandfather tried to convince Daryl to travel with them by referencing WWII and France and the US being allies, and Daryl was not swayed. Now we know why.

There were a couple references to Isabelle not always being a nun like showing the scars of her suicide attempt and her saying to Mother Superior that she wasn't always a believer.

The building with the burner walkers had “Pouvoir des vivants” spray-painted outside. Now we know those burner walkers are the result of experiments being conducted by Genet's group.

Walker Quinn can be seen in the full season trailer at the end of the episode. I guess they didn't care about spoiling that since the character hadn't been introduced yet.

Daryl took the knife with the knuckle guards from the armory at the abbey and kept up with it the entire season. There's no denying the similarity to Carol's signature knife, so I'm certain Daryl was thinking of Carol when he took it. The fact that Daryl kept up with it the entire season even though he lent it to other people and had it ripped away from him multiple times is a subtle nod to the unbreakable bond he shares with Carol.

Unanswered Question - What Happened to Father Jean?

The only question I have after watching this episode is what happened to Father Jean? He was around Daryl's age and his walker looked fairly fresh. No one says what happened to him or even directly says that he died. The nuns kept his walker locked away in the belief that souls of the wicked and the hungry can be redeemed. I have a theory that he took his own life. Isabelle says that the tube in the radio broke about a month ago and they haven't been able to replace it. Father Jean was marking locations on a map with radio frequencies and handles. Maybe after painstakingly searching the radio waves for years trying to find safe passage to The Nest, the radio breaking was the last straw for him. Isabelle said “hope fades slowly, then all at once.” She would know based on her own history. Maybe Isabelle was so desperate for Laurent to reach The Nest because they lost their priest to hopelessness and were starting to flounder. I don't know if we'll ever find out what happened to Father Jean, but I hope so.

[bravewolfvesperia]

@mistralxsoul | continued

Maybe he shouldn't have come here so distracted. Normally Yuri would show up while he worked and just hang around, but it was only a matter of time before his straying thoughts were noticed. The way he hadn't been able to stop thinking about things he never wanted to think about again. If he kept just avoiding Flynn though, Flynn would notice that too. Sooner or later, it would just catch up to him anyway.

It wasn't untrue that Yuri was stronger than Flynn in some ways. Really, they just... handled things differently. Yuri's means of handling things had changed drastically again and again, but so had Flynn's. It was impossible to say either of them were truly wrong for how events caused them to react, but... sometimes, when people brought up his time in the knights, it wasn't just failure at staying there that bothered him.

Most likely, this was just due to Yuri never admitting a lot of things to Flynn directly. After all, he had figured this whole time that they would just get past it. Never had to recall anything. That eventually they would just... move past all the bad things since they weren't like that anymore. Plus, if Yuri didn't say something now, Judith or Raven would end up doing it for him. He knew they both recognized the signs too, and eventually they would speak up in his place.

Normally Yuri was able to push his feelings down and ignore him, but the way Flynn called to him to ask if something was wrong made his chest tighten and it hurt. It wasn't like Yuri had planned to never bring things up and talk to him about old wounds. He'd decided they probably should when they started dating. Trying in the moment though when he wasn't ready made it a lot more difficult.

The problem was that there was a backlog, and he knew exactly the day it started. The day Jareth died. The same day several others from their town died. A month later, when Jiri died, it started to pile on. When Flynn moved away, he had no idea where to turn to anymore. By then everyone was growing up and moving on with their lives, and only Yuri was stuck in the past. Only Yuri couldn't figure out what to do with himself. All he could decide on was getting into fights and being aggressive, only to wake up realizing he had no idea who he was anymore.

Then he tried the knights, and within those three months had not only felt like he was staring at a stranger with Flynn's face who sometimes gave Flynn back to him, but he had had to kill Lambert. Had to helplessly watch Niren die. Had to leave the knights realizing he'd gotten nothing done, and that he would only go back home having let Hanks and the others down.

For a few years it stopped. It was an awkward balance of getting along with Flynn again, but Flynn being disappointed in him for getting into fights and ending in jail. It was just... a couple, few years of nothing for Yuri. Then he went off to find a core thief and wound up slicing off Don Whitehorse's head after being terrified he might have really lost Flynn for good this time. It was like everyone Yuri respected ended up dying in front of him.

But the most painful part of all of it had been the way Flynn wasn't there for so long not all that long after their orphanage had mostly broken apart and split off. It was still there, just... run by someone else now, with new kids Yuri didn't even know. Some he knew by face, and it wasn't like he'd never interacted with them in town, but he didn't live there. Didn't see those children as his siblings the way he did with the people his own age.

And for a while - a long while, Yuri had suffered realizing one thing. He loved Flynn. He loved him and hadn't actually said it. Would Flynn have still moved away if he had said something? It wasn't like Yuri didn't understand what had happened. Because of how close they'd been, he'd just taken it for granted that Flynn would always be there. When he wasn't anymore and Yuri was quickly losing people to turn to, he realized he messed up... but he hadn't recognized it as a total mistake until he got into the knights.

That's how his whole mind was today. A mess, full of events in such an uncluttered order of... everything wrong with his life. Hardly into adulthood and he'd seen so much death and been through so much emotional terror and pain that he was... struggling to manage it now. Now that it was, at least seemingly, over, and he'd been able to start processing things... it was like his mind had opened floodgates he'd locked away for a reason.

"You're thinking about when we were out there in the world - literally, right?" Sure, saving the world made him strong with what he'd had to go through to get there. People seemed to think he was strong in that way a lot, and he could reason with that. "I told you at Dahngrest, right? How I get into my own head sometimes? It's just... full of a lot of stuff I haven't resolved. Problem is, Judy and the old man started to notice, and Karol was starting to catch on too."

And his head was full of places he didn't want to be. He'd almost cracked several times when they were away from home and spanning actual continents. It was adrenaline and energy that kept him going and prevented it. "I kinda hoped to just forget about it and stay here for a while, but..." He scoffed as his voice gave the slightest crack. "...my head is a really mean place, Flynn. I think even I can only take so much of it."

He felt bad. He really, truly felt bad right now. Flynn didn't ask for this. Didn't prompt this. He was working. Unfortunately Yuri also knew if he didn't do something about his moping that his guild was going to do it for him, and he couldn't just unload a bunch of information onto them that they knew nothing about and expect it all to just go away. The only person who knew everything that he carried with him... was Flynn.

What was he supposed to do, plan a depression date so they could have a terrible day? But his only other option was to wait until the buildup got so bad he couldn't manage it anymore. So that was what he did, even if partially on accident. Put it aside again and again, believing it would be fine and eventually it would just come up naturally. But it didn't, because he wouldn't let it. Wouldn't let it ruin the time he was trying to spend with Flynn being grateful for him and moving away from the old wounds.

But he did that every time. Of course it would eventually come back to bite him in the ass. To spring itself on him when he wasn't ready, because he was never ready. And it would be right now, when he was probably at his breaking point, that Flynn's kindness was just a trigger to breaking that lock. Because he didn't deserve that. He'd never apologized to Flynn for anything. Flynn apologized again and again for his wrongs, and Yuri acted like he had nothing to apologize for. Yuri didn't earn his kindness, but Flynn gave it anyway.

He'd shut his kindness out a long time ago. He locked that part of himself away. There was no place left for that kind boy who looked after everyone at peace. No place for the ignorance he had about the world and how bad it could truly be. That was his worst mistake, actually. Convincing himself that that boy was no longer needed. He was the most important thing Yuri could have had, and he realized somewhere along the way that giving him up was worse than a mistake.

Getting him back was maybe... impossible now. At the time, he was too... innocent. He didn't know enough. He just thought he could live and survive in ignorance as long as he and his family and the town were happy and safe. That was all he wanted at that time. But once everyone from "that time" was gone, so was he. He couldn't even put his hair up anymore. It felt like someone else. Someone he couldn't be anymore. Flynn walking away back then had solidified that.

It was only then that Yuri realized his eyes were wet and he was struggling to breathe normally, dropping his head so Flynn wouldn't see what he'd probably already perceived. His voice was low, and briefly the words carried themselves without his permission - without his intent to release them into the world. "Why are you so kind to someone like me...? I'm not... him anymore."

But then he doubled back, knowing it was too late, but still trying to salvage anything. "Don't-... answer that. You're supposed to be working. I can't just walk in here with a problem and expect you to drop everything because my head is some uncontrollable mess for a few hours."

[todaysdocument]

FBI Surveillance Log of Judith Coplon's Activities

Record Group 21: Records of District Courts of the United StatesSeries: Criminal Case FilesFile Unit: United States of America v. Judith Coplon and Valentine A. Gubitchev 

DR - C594 Date | Time | IC or OG | ACTIVITY RECORDED | Initials 2-17-49 | 10:00AM to 10:16 AM | | COPLON heard typing. Not recorded | LWB Con't. | 10:28AM | OG | COPLON ext 500 in Justice Bldg. She asked the service unit to send her file number 146-7-51-864 and charge it out to LENVIN. She just wnated the last section. Record #65 cut #5 | LWB | 10:40AM to 11:14AM | IC | COPLON received call from ANN at State Dept. COPLON dictated to ANN various paragraphs the she marked in a report dealing with the work and political publicity of the "National Council of American-Soviet Friendship" and affiliate groups. COPLON mentioned radio programs, lectures, films and photographs on soviet life, photographic exhibits, war exhibits, furnished approved Soviet speakers, and meetings. She mentioned that labor leaders were contacted to send greetings to labor leaders in Russia; state governors were contacted to issued proclamations favoring Russia and to appease anti-Russians; trying to reach Americans of foreign birth; trying to get public officials to make statements in favor Log No. [blank], Page No. 95 Date | Time | IC or OG | ACTIVITY RECORDED | Initials 2-17-49 Con't | | | of Russia; try to papuralize in America various Soviet policies; try to give technical and business advise and aid to Russia; try to get Congress to grant large long credit terms to Russia for reconstruction; exchange of correspondance amng citizens of America and Russia. COPLON briefly mentioned similar groups abroad. COPLON gave ANN newspaper citations which contained some of the above mentioned items. COPLON is mailing ANN some newspapers clippings today. No statements were made about FBI reports or work. All of records #66, 67, 68 | LWB | 11:50AM | IC | COPLON received call from SHAPIRO. He asked what are we doing about lunch today. She said she was busy and would call him. Record # 69 cut # 1 | LWB | 11:52AM | IC | MICROUTSICOS to LENVIN who was out. COPLON said he could be reached at EX 0707 all day. (LENVIN is working on income tax reports there) Record # 69 cut # 2 | LWB | 12:05AM | OG | COPLON to SHAPIRO. They are going to meet at 12:15PM and go to lunch and shop at Hechts. Record # 69 cut #3

[transflynnscifo]

TOV Party members, ordered by "gameplay participation" within dungeons

what it says on the tin! I decided to order the party members of vesperia by how much they actually are in the party throughout the story.

Granted, I can't do a count by the hour, given that no player has the same runtime of the game. how I will do it instead is by counting party members' availability for every dungeon in the game. this post doesn't account for any changes within towns, ie, story cutscenes, sidequests, and so on. These tend to not amount in enough time for someone's absence to be felt.

also, yuri is banned from this list as he is ALWAYS available to play with. all information compiled will be under the cut for the sake of spoilers.

I am also color-coding the characters below cut. by the way, this is long!

PART 1:

Zaphias Castle/Zaphias sewers - Estelle (halfway through)

Quoi Woods - Estelle, Repede, Karol

Shaikos Ruins - Estelle, Repede, Karol, Rita

Ehmead Hill - Estelle, Repede, Karol, Rita

Ragou's mansion - Estelle, Repede, Karol, Rita

Caer Bocram - Estelle, Repede, Karol, Rita

Keiv Moc - Estelle, Repede, Karol, Rita, Raven

Dahngrest Underpass - Estelle, Repede, Karol, Rita, Raven

Ghasfarost - Estelle, Repede, Karol, Rita, Raven, Judith, Flynn

PART 2

(fun to note that it takes a while before the first dungeon here)

Atherum - Estelle, Repede, Karol, Rita, Raven, Judith, Patty

Weasand of Cados - Estelle, Repede, Karol, Rita, Raven, Judith, Patty

Sands of Kogorth - Estelle, Repede, Karol, Rita, Raven, Judith, Patty

Weasand of Cados (reprise) - Estelle, Repede, Karol, Rita, Raven, Judith, Patty

Manor of the Wicked - Estelle, Repede, Rita, Raven, Patty

Mount Temza - Estelle, Repede, Karol, Rita, Raven, Patty

Mount Temza (boss) - Estelle, Repede, Karol, Rita, Raven, Judith, Patty

Renansula Hollow - Estelle, Repede, Karol, Rita, Raven, Judith, Patty

Egothor Forest - Estelle, Repede, Karol, Rita, Raven, Judith, Patty

Fallen Shrine of Baction - Repede, Karol, Rita, Judith, Patty, Flynn

Steel Fortress Heracles (1st half of dungeon) - Repede, Karol, Rita, Raven, Judith, Patty, Flynn

Steel Fortress Heracles (2nd half of dungeon) - Repede, Karol, Rita, Raven, Judith, Patty

The Blade Drifts of Zopheir (before boss) - Repede, Karol, Rita, Raven, Judith, Patty

The Blade Drifts of Zopheir (until the end of the dungeon) - Repede, Rita, Raven, Judith, Patty

Quoi Woods (reprise, part 1) - Repede

Quoi Woods (reprise, Yuri gets wrecked) - Repede, Karol, Rita, Raven, Judith, Patty

Zaphias Castle (reprise) - Repede, Karol, Rita, Raven, Judith, Patty

The Enduring Shrine of Zaude - Estelle, Repede, Karol, Rita, Raven, Judith, Patty, Flynn

PART 3 (from this point on, Estelle, Repede, Karol, Rita, Raven, Judith and Patty will be marked as "everyone"

The Blade Drifts of Zopheir (reprise), Erealumen Crystallands, Relewiese Hollow, Atherum (reprise) - everyone (4 dungeons)

Tarqaron - everyone + Flynn

Post game dungeons: the sidequests for these can be started without Flynn in the party. you can even do two segments of the necropolis without Flynn. here's how this is marked for the dungeons themselves:

Labyrinth of Memories - everyone + Flynn

Necropolis of Nostalgia (first 2 parts) - everyone

Necropolis of Nostalgia (the rest, unlocked after beating the boss) - everyone + Flynn

FINAL NUMBER

Yuri - all (30)

Estelle - 25.5

Repede - 29

Karol - 18 + 0.5 + 0.5 + 10 = 29 (the 2x0.5 are due to him becoming unavailable after the boss in Zopheir for a bit, and Yuri's stunt in Quoi. Yuri's stunt in Quoi is why there's a .5 for many party members lol)

Rita - 27.5

Raven - 22.5

Judith - 5 + 0.5 + 5 + 0.5 + 9 = 20 (0.5 are due to her Temza rejoin and Yuri's stunt.)

Patty - 20.5

Flynn - oh boy. part 1 is 1, part 2 is 2.5 (he leaves halfway through Heracles and joins again for Zaude), part 3 + post-game is 2.5 OR 3 (depending on when you start the necropolis dungeon) = 6 OR 6.5. (I'm personally on the latter because I never start my necropolis runs without him)

Closing thoughts:

the party members that have left the party the least amount of times are Repede, Karol, Rita and Patty, where in the girls' cases they join later, so their numbers are lower.

man's best friend and new baby brother win! followed by resident girl genius

Estelle's absence seems a lot larger when it is laid out in dungeons. But given that a lot of sidequests become available when Zaude is open to explore, you can "catch up" with using her in the party from there

Patty by this math participates in gameplay as much as Judith does, and this is because she is able to catch up during Judith's strongly felt absence in part 2. not to mention both girls are absent gameplay-wise in part 1, with only Judith joining for Ghasfarost

Raven's kinda in the middle. good for him!

and... Flynn. holy shit man i have to be generous in your numbers. he's the guy in the friend group who is only ever online for 5 minutes before needing to go to bed (he is in the australian timezone)

I hope this is as interesting as it seems to me. I hope my counting wasn't wrong, but if you notice anything off, please correct me!

[mistralxsoul]

Flynn's birthday... was in just under a month. His 23rd birthday. Yuri wanted to do something for him, but... that was when he had another thought train. One that... actually fit in perfectly with the coming date.

Yuri had been making it a point to save up to find a proper engagement ring, but one day he just found himself frozen in realization. It didn't have to take that long. If he could get in contact with Kaufman, he could find something through Fortune's Market and talk to her about pricing.

First he went to the Fortune's Market in Dahngrest to work around setting up an appointment with her. It wasn't difficult to get in touch with her if he went through Fortune's Market himself, and it wasn't like he was an unfamiliar face in Dahngrest. There was no suspicion at his request and it had gone smoothly enough. All he needed to do from there was ask Judith to borrow Ba'ul to get to Torim on the appointment day. Making Kaufman come all the way to Dahngrest wasn't necessary when he could get there faster than she could get to Dahngrest.

He silently apologized to Karol for putting their guild on the line, but in a way, he wasn't really. He never had any intention of working things out with Kaufman and then just fleeing the scene. Between knowing her somewhat well and her trusting him and Brave Vesperia, it wasn't difficult to ask her about finding a good ring and going on a payment plan so he could just pay it off in increments. If he couldn't work guild jobs, he'd find other odd jobs to do.

He wasn't exactly sure he expected her to say no, but he was still surprised when she didn't. But the truth was, Kaufman could crush their still tiny guild in the blink of an eye. They just didn't have the people to back themselves up, and they would probably never be as world renowned as Fortune's Market. If he tried to cheat her out of business, the whole world was going to know about it.

And she knew that. They both completely, wholeheartedly knew that. Granted, she did trust Yuri as a person too. She had seen him firsthand more than once and was one of the few people who knew how much work he'd put in to, well, literally save the planet itself. At this point she would probably be shocked if Yuri tried to cheat her in some way.

From there she directed him to a place to get the ring in question, having written a note for the person who would be in charge of the shop at the time that he wouldn't be paying the whole price upfront. Thankfully the note gave ample evidence that she was the one who wrote it, signature, stamp and all, but if he was allowed to let her know if he had any trouble and if she needed to tell the shop herself.

Thankfully it didn't actually go badly, and he was grateful he'd set up the payment plan idea when he spotted the blue diamond ring that was littered with white diamonds on the outside of the ring lining. Real diamonds. No matter what kind of guild jobs he got, twenty thousand gald was... a lot. He would be speaking with Ioder soon about doing jobs for him if that's what it took to get this specific ring.

Yuri knew Flynn wouldn't have cared if Yuri had gotten the cheapest ring imaginable. Just the fact that he was thinking about this at all probably would have been enough. Flynn was... a Commandant now though, and someone like that couldn't be seen wearing some cheap ass engagement ring. It might not bother Yuri if people knew he was goddamn poor, but it would bother him if people started talking about how the Commandant was planning to marry some literal poor bastard and judged Flynn for it.

Once he had the ring, he had one last thought accompany it. He could... try to make Flynn a matching necklace, couldn't he? Like the one Flynn had given him when they were teenagers? He still had it, he just... stopped wearing it to avoid it being broken. He was out and about and it could have broke or just gotten lost. Even now on guild jobs he wouldn't be able to wear it just in case, but if they wanted to match while they were both free from work? If he made one, they could do that...

So he searched as much as he could, taking odd guilds jobs that Ruin's Gate might have otherwise taken, quite frankly just for the sole purpose of finding a matching quartz. He just needed a light blue quartz, so he could realistically go buy that too, but... Flynn had found Yuri's at the river. He hadn't bought it. If they were going to match, this was the best way to do that.

After about a week of jobs, he found one. It almost surprised him to find one like he wanted at all, but better than just that, he'd gotten paid for the jobs. Everything had been an efficient use of time, though Karol had eventually piped up about why he couldn't sit still all week and was always out on some job or another. He wrote it off as he'd found something he wanted to buy, which was at least partially true even if he'd technically already bought it, and it was enough to get Karol to, though slightly still confused, accept the answer.

Next step was... learning how to work out the necklace. That itself took another week just from practice and having to practice between jobs. Yuri would probably sleep for an entire day after he got these things to Flynn with all the running around he'd been doing. Once the necklace was done though, all that was left was to wait to visit Flynn on his birthday, and he'd made sure to inform the others that he was taking that day without question.

He didn't usually make such sturdy requests (demands?), but once he explained it was Flynn's birthday and he had something planned, all of their eyes lit up in understanding. Judith and Raven already knew they were together, but he'd managed to somehow keep it from both of them that he'd even bought that ring. Evidently he was getting better at hiding things from even them.

On the day of, Yuri was told in advance that Ioder had given Flynn the day off. Since it was his birthday, hopefully Flynn naturally understood and made no move to argue Ioder's case. Ioder had also made it a point to make sure Flynn knew Yuri was visiting that day, if only to make him argue less about the day off. Yuri's plan was to take him to dinner specifically in the Lower Quarter and have a quiet celebration for his birthday with only Lower Quarter residents (and Repede!) - no formalities, no castle people (Ioder was invited but he declined only on the basis that he'd like Flynn to experience his birthday with the people he grew up with and who were a proper family to him). While Yuri was busy and away in Dahngrest, Hanks made sure to work on the plans with the other residents once Yuri knew for a fact that Ioder was letting Flynn off work.

Once dinner was done and the two of them had left the inn, Yuri took him on a walk through the Public Quarter market just to give them some alone time (featuring Repede because he deserved to still have his walk too!) before heading back to Flynn's room at the castle. Seeing as Flynn was quick to hold his hand most times, Yuri made the first move this time and did his best not to concern himself with any curious looks. If people didn't like it, well... that sucked for them.

It didn't really matter to Yuri how late they got back, but he did walk Flynn back to his room which, while it may have been to Flynn's surprise, Yuri had already gotten into the castle and left his belongings in Flynn's room (neatly! For the man's birthday!). It was easier than going back to the inn to grab his things from his own room there on the way and then going back to the castle.

Nowadays it was much easier getting into the castle though. Guards recognized his face when he eventually decided to stop only trying to get in through Flynn's window (which he would still do, but sometimes he did want to make sure people were actually more familiar with him once he started dating Flynn), and he could just put it out there that he was friendly with the emperor, commandant, and Great War survivor Schwann. It was usually enough to get him in, though he did sometimes have to sit around and wait for one of them to be brought out to confirm they knew him.

As much as they were winding down for the night, Yuri still felt... a bit shy about giving the necklace to Flynn, but he finally took a breath and went through his belongings to get it. He handed the small box it was safely kept in to Flynn. "This is... for your birthday." He let Flynn open it and register it before at all moving to get the ring box, not wanting to rush Flynn and letting him put the pieces together of what it was and why before moving on.

For a split second Yuri nearly panicked when Flynn's eyes were watering, but he convinced himself with a soft and silent breath that he knew why. His face was even getting red, and Yuri oddly enough relaxed at that. He could tell the difference between embarrassment and gratitude when Flynn got emotional like this. "I wanted us to match, so... I hope that came out well enough."

He was always grateful to Flynn for going out of his way to handmake him that necklace when they had basically nothing for themselves. It was easier now and Yuri had more money and way more access to things, but it was still a reminder of a time when they mostly really only had each other, the other orphans and the Lower Quarter. No emperors, no knight captains, no knights at all, no guilds, no being in with powerful people. In some way Yuri would always miss that simple life they had, but he was doing his best just to keep going forward and stop looking back.

When Flynn had safely registered, reacted and seemed ready to continue with the night, Yuri paused, feeling even more shy on the inside than he was showing on the outside. He was never... really... good at formal things like this. It wasn't his way of doing things. He sure as shit was not getting on one knee. If he did, he couldn't even blame Flynn for laughing at how ridiculous it would look.

So instead of going through what would be total nonsense from Yuri, he located the box in his belongings and also handed it to Flynn. By now he was starting to get used to his face burning around Flynn... It always happened in quiet spaces when they were more intimate like this. If they were in battle? Sparring? Joking? Any number of flirts or compliments could spill out. Yuri didn't even hesitate with it if adrenaline was involved. It was always when it was quiet like this, just like the night they'd started dating.

Yuri was somewhere between shyness and pouting when Flynn opened the box and the realization was showing on his face. Yeah, maybe he should've proposed in the middle of sparring. Maybe he would do that too in some other way. That felt so... naturally them. But right now, the only thing he could get out was a soft but gentle, "...Marry me?"

He had noticed pretty early on that Yuri had been acting quite peculiar as they spent the day together. As usual, Yuri was pretty good at hiding what he was actually feeling but Flynn knew him better than anyone alive, just as Yuri knew him. 

Whenever they were alone, Yuri would always mindlessly point out little habits of Flynn’s that seemed to give away the man’s mood. The way Flynn expressed himself by how tightly he clenched his hands, the way his eye (always his right, never his left for some reason) would twitch when he was angry or annoyed, the way he would avert his eyes when embarrassed… Those were just a few of the habits Yuri had pointed out about Flynn over the years.

Flynn never realized just how much of an open book he actually was until he realized that the only one who had truly read into him so deeply was the man who pointed out these patterns to begin with. But it was easy to notice these things when you spent a solid percentage of your life with someone. To Flynn, picking up on these signs was almost second nature, really. 

The way that Yuri’s fingers would tap anxiously on the table or how his foot bounced silently as they sat and had dinner with the Lower Quarter. The way that Yuri seemed to keep himself busy with conversation. Despite the nervous motions that Flynn had just barely noticed, Yuri seemed fine otherwise as he sat close to Flynn, arms practically touching as they celebrated Flynn’s birthday with their hometown. At some point, Flynn would let his pinky hook with Yuri’s, hoping the motion would help quell whatever worries were stuck in Yuri’s mind. For some reason, his presence always seemed to help Yuri so Flynn was happy to use it to his advantage.

Flynn wished he could stay by his side forever if it meant his presence would stop Yuri from getting so anxious. 

The dinner was loud and rambunctious, filled with old friends that Yuri and Flynn had grown up with, along with some of the older folks that had a hand in raising both Flynn and Yuri in some shape or form. Old stories were shared, Happy birthday wishes were given and it was the closest Flynn had felt to being himself around the people in the Lower Quarter in a very long time. 

The dinner came to an end all too soon. Yuri and Repede decided to walk Flynn home, with the latter happily accepting if it meant he got to spend some alone time with his partner. He could tell that Yuri was still nervous over something (Though it didn’t seem like anything too serious. Did he have a gift planned perhaps?) but before Flynn could even think to reach out and take his hand in an effort to comfort him as they walked and talked, Yuri grabbed his hand first. He knew that Yuri was shy about stuff like this, especially in public, so he knew how hard this was for Yuri. As their hands linked together, Flynn was all smiles which earned him such a soft, shy but loving smile in return from the other. 

Flynn wanted to always make Yuri smile like that.

Flynn should have known that Yuri had already been planning to stay the night but it was still a pleasant surprise regardless. Flynn really couldn’t think of a better end to his birthday than to curl up under the blankets with the most important man in his arms but it seemed like Yuri had other plans. 

A few months ago, Flynn had come across the old quartz necklace that he had made for Yuri back when they were teenagers and he had been surprised that the other had kept it while overjoyed at the same time. After that, Yuri would wear it on days where he knew he didn’t have anything crazy going on, just so he wouldn’t lose the old necklace Flynn had made for him. Flynn thought it was silly, while also touching that he cared for it so much.

As Flynn stared down at the light blue quartz necklace now hanging from his neck, he was beginning to understand how Yuri felt. His lover had presented the necklace to him as his birthday present and Flynn isn’t ashamed to admit that it struck at his heart in just the right way that left him wet-eyed and emotional. It was similar to the one he had made years ago and even if it wasn’t the exact same, the fact that Yuri thought of that time, of him… and he was worried about if it came out well?

“Yuri… It’s perfect…” Flynn breathed out as he gently took it into his hands before moving to tie it around his own neck, much like Yuri had done that day when they were only teenagers. He held the stone between his fingers as he blinked away the tears, smile widening as he stared back at his other half. "You made this for me, of course it would be perfect, Yuri."

Despite all of the bumps in the road, they had really really come a long way together.

Yuri had no choice but to surrender to multiple loving kisses from Flynn after that, the blonde just being so delighted over how shy and cute Yuri was at the moment. But soon enough, Flynn seemed to grant the other mercy as the night slowly came to an end. While Flynn took a moment longer to admire the necklace around his neck, he could feel Yuri step away from him as he went back over to his belongings. 

Flynn had assumed the man was simply going to change into his night clothes and Flynn was about ready to do the same when he noticed Repede’s head lift up slightly before he climbed to his feet and headed for the door. It took little work for the dog to lift himself up on his hind legs to bat at the door handle and before Flynn could think to even ask what he was doing, the handle turned and the door cracked open. Earning one final look from the dog, Repede slipped out of the room, turning only to grab onto the handle with his teeth to pull the door shut. 

“Is Repede not staying tonight?” Flynn frowned, having taken a few steps towards the door before he turned to address Yuri as the man stepped back into his space and…

…was met with a small box. A small box that fit in the palm of Yuri’s hand. A small box that one would usually put something like… like jewelry in. Yuri held it out to him, cheeks red as he shyly averted his eyes, lips formed into a tiny pout. Flynn could have sworn his own heart had stopped as he quietly and gently took the box from Yuri’s hand. He opened the box. His breath caught as he stared down at the small ring within. A small ring in a velvet box. A small ring that looked like–

“... Yuri…?” Flynn questioned with a cracked whisper because there’s just no way, no way, no way–

“...Marry me?” 

“Yes.” 

The answer, breathless and shaky as it was, was instantaneous and in one swift movement, the ring was pulled from the box and placed onto his finger as the box was dropped to the floor. He could barely get a laugh out before he’s crashing into Yuri, kissing him fervently as his arms wrapped around the other’s waist, hugging him tightly. He repeated the answer against Yuri’s lips, unable to choose between kissing the other or saying yes a thousand times over like his heart wanted. 

Then, with a joyful laugh, he couldn’t stop himself from picking Yuri (his lover, his fiance, his soon to be husband!!!) up by the waist and just twirling him around in his arms, pressing a kiss on his lips, nose, cheeks, forehead, everywhere he could reach. Yuri may have protested when his feet left the ground but Flynn didn’t care so long as Yuri kept looking at him with that beautiful smile of his. He spun them a few more times before his knees hit the edge of the bed and they both tumbled backwards onto the soft mattress behind them. 

Instead of kissing Yuri again, however, Flynn presses his forehead against the other’s. It was an action they found themselves doing more times than not and somehow, to Flynn, it seemed more intimate than kissing. It just allowed him to stare into the eyes of his beloved, to just exist together, loving each other with nothing to really distract them.

He was still laughing, just overjoyed and when he focused on Yuri’s expression, the way his dark eyes stared back at him so tenderly and lovingly, Flynn reached up to stroke the man’s cheek. 

“...You’re such a bastard, you know…” Flynn snorts, especially upon seeing Yuri’s expression upon hearing this. “Beating me to this, I mean... I keep finding myself thinking about how badly I want to spend the rest of my life with you. And I know that marriage or not, we’ll always be together. But I still wanted to get you a ring at least so I could prove that I didn’t intend on going anywhere without you. But then you beat me to it, you jerk.” 

He laughed a bit when he pinched Yuri’s side lightly, earning a small laugh in return which was followed up by a lighthearted apology. Still, Flynn supposed it didn’t matter who got to it first (though he would have loved to put a ring on Yuri’s finger so he could proudly show off his new fiance). Even now, he knew that nothing between them would change and that this was more a formality than anything. 

But it definitely confirmed, if there had been any doubt, that Yuri wanted to be by Flynn’s side just as much as Flynn wanted to remain by Yuri’s. 

As the laughter died down, all that remained was their smiles as Flynn's fingers trailed up Yuri's cheek and up to his forehead, brushing hair from his eyes. “I love you, Yuri. You’re … everything to me. You’ve always been the shining light of my life, since the moment I met you… even if I didn’t realize it at times. So, I swear upon everything that I am that I will strive to do the same. I want to continue to be someone you can depend on, no matter the circumstance.” He sucks in a heavy breath and moves so his face could press into Yuri's shoulder, emotions becoming way too much for him to handle as he whispers the rest of his words, words only meant to be shared between them and them alone. 

“...Thank you for allowing me to stay by your side.” Even after everything that’s happened. 

The final words were left unsaid, Flynn choosing to leave the meaning for Yuri to determine. If Yuri allowed it, Flynn could probably talk all night about how happy Yuri made him. And maybe he still had a few things to say, words of love and affection that he wanted to shower the other with.

But for now, he was content with just showing Yuri just how in love Flynn was with him. Whether that led to Yuri being held in Flynn’s arms all night, being showered with compliments and adoration or led to Flynn showing his love through more… strenuous means was between them and them alone. 

Regardless of whatever happened that night, or in countless days that followed after that, Flynn knew one thing at least. Yuri had been there through almost every challenge that Flynn had ever faced in his life. More challenges were likely on their way, as their lives were only just beginning. 

Knowing for sure that Yuri had his back, and vice versa, Flynn knew he was ready for anything that the world decided to throw at them.

[thebestoftragedy]

hi!! i stumbled on ur post about historical romance recs and if you haven't you should check out laura london (the windflower made me swoon and weep in equal measure), judith mcnaught, roberta gayle (moonrise is so incredible), mary balogh, sherry thomas, anne mallory (for the earl's pleasure and one night is never enough especially), beverly jenkins' entire backlist, cecilia grant, and judith ivory! they're all sooo soo good

I've read all of cecilia grant and some judith ivory, I mostly like them (beast notwithstanding)! I did read the windflower also (I kinda hated the main romance/it did nothing for me but I liked the writing and hallucinatory malaria chapters and I LOVED Cat who should have had his own book) but none of the other ones by them. anne mallory, mcnaught, and gayle I don't think I've read at all, sherry thomas I'm aware of (more through her mysteries) but haven't read. and I've read a little bev jenkins but not much of her older stuff. mary balogh I tried and I think she's a little too Nice for me... very soft/low conflict, found family, etc is not my bag. I like Drama I like Peril I like people who are maybe kind of assholes. though I haven't read a ton of her (I think it was 2 in the survivors' club series, and then one of the bedwyns?).

right now I'm working on finishing julie ann long pennyroyal green series (just one more to go) which has been pretty hit or miss for me but the hits have been good enough to keep me going, and then I'll prob move on to palace of rogues. also been working through all the laura kinsales I haven't read yet, finishing joanna bourne spymasters series (2 to go), then who knows. oh yeah reading the rest of loretta chase's stuff. hoping liz hoyt starts writing again.

various data: my big big miss/area where I am in strident disagreement w romance book world is that I have not read a single kleypas that I enjoyed or thought was even sort of good and I've read like, six or seven of them (including devil in winter which got a firm 1 star from me). hate julia quinn. can tolerate meredith duran but at least appreciate that she's a little batshit. not a fan of tessa dare or sarah maclean, lorraine heath neutral. dislike jennifer ashley, stacy reid, hate sophie jordan.