#She’s dating Eugene but alas

[self-shipfromtheeast]

This is a bit belated due to an unexpected irl situation, but I still wanted to finish strong and wish @candyheartedchy a happy birthday! Glad you had a fun time with your plans! 😊

Selene is a pastry chef/cake decorator by trade, plus I love the semi-canon idea that SB can only make Krabby Patties when he cooks. So he naturally commissions his friend Selene to make ‘the prettiest birthday cake for the prettiest creature in the sea!’

[madebycloud]

Just the Two of Us

wednesday addams x reader — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

summary: wednesday had her doubts about the arcade date, especially when your friends decided to tag along. but in the midst of a crowded place, she realizes that being alone with you makes all the difference. warnings/themes: fluff, arcade date (uhh, that's all i guess.. 🏃💨) words: 2.2k

Wednesday sat in the car, staring out the window. She couldn't help but feel annoyed by the noise all around her. She felt trapped in the middle seat, with Enid on one side and Yoko on the other.

She longed to be on the seat beside you, but, alas, Enid had claimed that spot before you had the chance. She couldn't help but begrudge Enid for taking it from you, even though it was probably an accident.

Tyler, the driver, turned on the radio, playing a pop song that the whole car started singing. Thing is tapping his fingers on top of her shoulder, trying to jam along.

Wednesday, however, remained silent, her shoulders slumped, and she looked out the window as the scenery flew by. You watched her, feeling a sense of guilt and shame. You know she wanted this date to be intimate and private, not a group outing that included your friends.

Wednesday tried to sink deeper into her seat. Enid, beside her, kept trying to talk to her, but she would barely respond. When she did, it was brief and blunt. Tyler turned off the radio, trying to get the girls to quiet down. Xavier and Eugene were sitting in the back of the car, playing a mobile game together.

You turn around to check on her, and she responds with a short, snappy, "I'm fine." 

She just hopes the destination is worth it because this car ride is already making her regret coming along.

—

The car pulls up to the side of the street, and you step out, ready to open the door for your friends. 

You extended your hand for Wednesday to take it, but she ignored it. You stood there with your hands still in the air for an awkward moment.

After a few uncomfortable moments, you close the door and catch up with the rest of your friends, walking towards the arcade. Enid is already running towards the arcade. "It's an arcade," she announced, like it was the greatest thing on earth.

Thing is inside the car, playing a mobile game that Eugene left behind for him. He couldn't come. Imagine a disabled hand wandering around—who would want that?

"Let's go bowling first, please?" Enid begged, and you and the others agreed to her request.

Once you gather in the bowling area, Wednesday picks up a ball and readies herself to strike the pins. As Wednesday begins to throw the ball, Bianca enters with a familiar, sarcastic tone. "Oh, look who decided to grace us with their presence."

"Wednesday and her pets," Bianca mocks, using air quotations.

"I think you mean my 'friends'," Wednesday countered, her eyes narrowing. "Oh, I don't think you have any real friends, Wednesday," Bianca taunted.

"I assure you, I have plenty of friends." 

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't realize you were counting your pets," Bianca sneered as she threw her head back in a laugh.

Even though you didn't hear the full conversation, it looks like it's getting more heated, so you walk up behind Wednesday, placing your hand on her back. She immediately recognizes your presence and follows your lead, allowing you to pull her away from Bianca.

You can hear Bianca's voice from afar, teasingly saying, "Bye, Wednesday!" But you ignore her and focus on leaving the scene before any more conflicts arise.

"Let's get that fiery temper of yours cooled down, shall we?" you suggested, leading Wednesday to an ice cream counter nearby.

You ordered ice cream for both of you and found a quiet corner to sit in. "My, my. I do suppose we are both alone, aren't we?" You muttered as you eyed the bustling crowd around you.

But she didn't budge, remaining quiet as she gazed upon the passersby. 

You decided to let it go. Taking a bite of your ice cream, you continued munching away in silence.

And then, before you have a chance to fully process what's happening, her warm lips press against the corner of your mouth, leaving a faint taste of vanilla ice cream behind. "Don't you have any table manners?" she teases with a roll of her eyes.

"Careful now, my dear," you murmur, the corner of your mouth curling up in a small, teasing grin. "I just might eat messily if you kiss me like that again." Letting out a low chuckle, you placed a quick peck on her cheek. 

She must've found your clumsy advances rather... adorable

—

You and Wednesday walk into an arcade, taking in all the flashing lights and game sounds. "Come on, let's play that one," you motion toward the basketball game, reaching for a ball, then you miss the basket... again and again. 

She watches you play for a bit before rolling her eyes and muttering, "This is painful to watch."

"Help me out, babe," you coax, still taking aim. Wednesday scoffs, "Move," snatching the ball from you and effortlessly sinking the shot. You cheer her on, "Nice shot, Wednesday!"

In one smooth motion, she broke the high score, and the ticket dispenser springs to life, spitting out a string of tickets.

You move on to other games, such as skee ball, whack-a-mole, and air hockey. Both of you play for hours, and you try your hand at each game with more success than the last. Finally, you win a cute plush teddy bear from the claw machine, and you proudly present it to her, smiling.

—

Only one game remains at the arcade that you've yet to play, and that game is none other than Tekken.

The two of you sat down on the tiny chairs, and you began to explain the mechanics. "It's called Tekken, and it's a two-player game," you begin, gesturing to the screen. "We each pick a character and fight each other."

"So you're saying we get to fight each other?" 

"Precisely." You nodded and gestured for her to choose a character, which she did without hesitation.

She scrolls through the roster, eventually selecting Devil Jin, the menacing-looking character that has wings and looks like it could tear you to shreds without even trying. 

You select Lili since her cuteness would make Wednesday's defeat all the more satisfying.

The game began, and Wednesday was immediately on the offensive. She started throwing punches and kicks in your general direction, trying to hit you. But you were ready for her, and you easily dodged her attacks.

The game continued, and you could see Wednesday becoming more irritated by the second. She couldn't seem to lay a finger on you, and it was starting to get to her. 

You, on the other hand, were having a great time. You couldn't help but tease her a bit, which only made her more frustrated.

After a particularly devastating combo, you emerged victorious. You stood up from the small chair and did a little victory dance, pointing at Wednesday and laughing. "Thank you, thank you!" as if you had just put on a great show for an imaginary audience in front of you.

"And what a battle it was! With my skills against hers, I managed to come out on top. I mean... it wasn't even close," you say with a wink, clearly mocking Wednesday's poor performance. 

"You're so obnoxious," Wednesday grumbles. She wasn't used to losing, especially to somebody who was clearly just trying to make her more frustrated.

"Hey, don't be mad. I'm just better than you, that's all," you say with a smirk. You know that this is only going to make Wednesday more irritated, but you can't help yourself.

"Rematch."

Wednesday begins to figure out your plan as you keep playing and she starts to score more hits. But still, you come out on top.

"I hate you," Wednesday mutters under her breath as you take the final round.

You leaned over and whispered in her ear, "Too bad, so sad." Wednesday's eyes narrowed, and she looked at you with a glare. "Fine," she said, "but I'm not giving up yet."

"Rematch. Again." 

The two of you continued playing, with Wednesday getting better and better with each round. Eventually, she finally managed to beat you.

"Not bad, not bad," you say, nodding. "But don't get too cocky. I still have ten wins under my belt, and you have only one." You give her a quick kiss on the cheek, and the game resumes. 

"Whatever," she says, but her smile betrays her words.

—

You and Wednesday head to the counter to exchange your tickets for prizes. You gestured at the three pink manicure sets behind the counter, "I suggest we trade our tickets for that Barbie... manicure set over there."

Wednesday eyes the prizes with a critical gaze, "If you teach me how to play Tekken, we have a deal."

You chuckle at her response. "Very well then, let’s get that for Thing." You hand over the tickets to the attendant, who begins to count them slowly.

While you wait, you glance around the arcade and see Enid playing the dance game, Xavier and Tyler competing against each other in air hockey, and Eugene and Yoko engaged in the shooting game. 

Just when you think it's going to be a long wait, you notice a photo booth in the corner of your eye.

"Look at that... it will take them forever. Come on, let's just get a quick picture." You pull Wednesday by the arm, not bothering to ask for permission, and drag her toward it.

You stood before the photo booth, eyeing it with curiosity. The black curtain was draped over the entrance, and upon closer inspection, you discovered that it only had one seat.

Without hesitation, you sat down on it and motioned for her to join you. She obliged, climbing onto your lap as if she belonged there. With her back toward you, you wrapped your arms tightly around her waist.

"What's next?"

You pulled out a ten-dollar bill from your pocket and handed it to her, pointing to the slot for inserting the money. She followed your instructions without saying a word, and the screen of the machine opened, revealing a reflection of the two of you.

With a smirk, you leaned back," Click the button when I say 'cheese.'" 

You took a deep breath, preparing to say the magic word. "Cheese," you told her with a wink, grinning wildly. 

She rolled her eyes and pressed the button, causing the flash to go off. 

On the next one, Wednesday didn't budge an inch, but you went ahead and made a ridiculous pose, as if you were about to eat her ear. "Snap it," you demanded, and she complied, but not without an eye roll.

Determined to liven things up, you leaned over and whispered, "Make some poses." She groaned, but you weren't about to let her off so easily. "Like this," you demonstrated, holding up a peace sign.

Wednesday gave you a deadpan glance and obediently adopted the same pose, but you could tell by the twitch of her lips that she was trying to hold back a smile.

"Last one," you said, and Wednesday leaned back into you, the back of her body pressing against your chest. You planted a soft kiss on her cheek. The camera flashed once more. 

The screen revealed the stickers and filters available, and Wednesday immediately pointed to the knife and skull stickers.

You went wild with the stickers and mustaches, even adding an eye patch to Wednesday's face. After you were done, the machine spat out two copies of the photo, one for each of you. You reached out for the copies, handing one to Wednesday and keeping one for yourself.

"Now let's go claim that manicure set before someone else does."

—

Wednesday's gaze remained fixed on the window, where she watched as the moon peeked in and out of the clouds. The sound of the bumps and creaks of the vehicle made it very difficult to sleep, but she wasn't planning on closing her eyes anytime soon anyway.

Tyler drove with precision, not letting the long and winding roads throw him off. Wednesday remained alert, taking note of everything he did—how he turned, how he changed lanes, how he accelerated and decelerated. She found it intriguing, the way he controlled the vehicle with such ease.

"If You Leave Me Now" by Chicago played on the radio, and Wednesday couldn't help but hum along, her fingers tapping to the rhythm. She wasn't singing or dancing, but she found herself in a sort of hypnotic trance, enjoying the feeling of your head resting on her shoulder.

Your breath stirred the air with every inhale and exhale, and she found herself listening to it, the sound of it soothing her nerves. She could tell you were tired, your breath was slow and heavy, and she was glad you could rest so peacefully on her shoulder.

With her free hand, she lightly runs her fingers over the lines in your palm and plays with your fingers. The touch feels reassuring. She quietly kisses the top of your head in a rare display of affection. 

Tyler remains laser-focused on the road, oblivious to the tender moment unfolding in the back seat.

Wednesday takes out the photos from the photo booth earlier and relishes the memories of the day you spent together.

The silly poses you made in comparison to her expressionless gaze were amusing. The stickers you put on her were hilarious, especially the pirate eye patch. And who could forget that kiss on the last one?

She didn't regret coming along after all, not even a little bit.

Note: so i wrote this out at midnight bc i had to pull an all-nighter. it might sound a bit wonky or something, idk 🤷‍♀️ (im questioning the meaning of life right now)

[voltstone]

they adopt a cat named floof (Wenclair One-Shot)

wednesday, for her girlfriend, gets a cat. she finds a way to bypass the “no pet” policy in order to do so. :)

(inspired by this post)

[1,268 Words] | [Last Edit: 11/12/2022] (Full One-Shot Post)

Note: This one-shot has been reposted from my old account onto this one. If it looks familiar, that's why.

Hope you enjoy! :)

Enid has figured, months ago, that she might as well be dating an Eldritch horror.

At first, she thought that Wednesday is just an angsty little goth. Come to find, her aesthetic and snapped wit are the most outwardly charming things about her. Because, as much as Enid loves her, Wednesday is really, really fucked in the head. 

Fucked head or not, though, Wednesday has a heart. She does. Sure, it may be in her foot for all Enid knows, but watching how she plays along with Eugene’s bee-scapades, and how cordial she and Bianca have gotten, she knows there’s a heart of gold in Wednesday. (That or she’s color-blind and it’s not gold but rather, in fact, dirt.)

Not that it matters. After too long of a day, Enid is ready to collapse onto Wednesday’s bed and badger her until she stops her “hour of novel writing” in exchange for, uh, osculation. 

Some days the struggle is short-lived. Wednesday gets needy too. But other days, the “hour of novel writing” is extended to several, and a long, long pout-full sleep on her bed. Hopefully today is the former. Given the labs, and the lectures, and the other labs, Enid really just needs to scratch an itch. And by that, it’s really Wednesday scratching it, and then Enid taking a nap afterwards. With Wednesday. (They cuddle.)

The door is nudged open. A hinge creaks, and a floorboard groans. Her eyes find Wednesday immediately. By the window. Waiting for her. Mildly surprised, but, ultimately, glad. Enid smiles widely. “Wednesday! Your novel's…”

“Done for the day. I did it this morning.” She straightens as Enid closes the door. "Enid,“ Wednesday prompts, and though she catches a quirk down her lips, Enid can’t help but feel…cautious. A Wednesday with her hands behind her back is a Wednesday with too big of a trick up her sleeve. "I have a surprise for you." See?!

Wait.

Cautious or not, a wide smile flourishes. "A…surprise?”

“Yes.” A blink. (Surprisingly. Heh.) “You said that you wanted a pet to keep us and Thing in better company.”

If Enid could jump Wednesday’s cold, frigid bones, she would. But, alas, as much as she loves Thing, Enid isn’t sure if she’d appreciate two running around—as a hand, and then a paw. So she stands herself squarely and musters a curious face. “Yeah, I-I did… So…?" A grin is pressed. Oh fuck, she can’t bear holding herself together any longer. Her hands are clasped. The grin cracks glee. "What is the little one…?! A gerbil? A ferret? A—” Enid practically melts off the face of the earth. “A kitten?!”

Wednesday maintains her composure, but that quirk down her lips worms. “Not quite. Close your eyes.”

She does as told, and she hears Wednesday shift with the surprise in her arms. Her grin is wide with her tongue snagged between teeth.

“Enid. I got us a cat.”

There’s a hop, and a skip, and yip! before she has the chance to open her eyes. "O-M-G! Can we name it Floof—?!“ When Enid does open her eyes, she… U-Um. Well, um. She sees orange. And the cat is…staring at her. Except it’s disconcerting and not at all like Wednesday; rather than stare deep into her soul to lobotomize it, the cat is, like, staring…through…it?

Wednesday tilts her head. Another blink. "What?”

The—

The cat isn’t fucking moving. It just…isn’t. It's—

Oh my fuck, what the God did you do, Wednesday?! 

Enid stands in place, feet anchored to the ground, as she stares at the… The— M-Muppet. Dead muppet. There’s a swallow, and then, a squeaked, "…w-why does it look like that?“

Wednesday lobotomizes Enid’s soul (affectionately). "Like what? The child we shall raise? Together?” …that shouldn’t have flipped Enid’s heart over. It’s practically roasting on a skillet now.

Enid lurches a quite tentative step forward. She meets…Floof by its vacant stare. "Did you put googly-eyes on it?“

"Well it is taxidermy,” Wednesday confirms, bluntly. She gazes down at the cat’s face, and the black dots follow. “I felt you would have appreciated her eyes.”

“Instead of what?”

Wednesday stares back at her. “The eyes I found bludgeoned from her head.”

Where did she get this cat?! Enid follows Wednesday to her desk. …Floof is gently set down beside the typewriter, and as Wednesday fixes a bent whisker in place, Enid hears Thing scatter across the room and back under one of the beds. 

Judging from the multitude of blemishes across…her body, it’s clear that Floof spent all nine lives at once. Poor thing. Yet, she looks as alive as Enid supposed she was not months ago—googly-eyes discounted. She imagines Wednesday’s lithe fingers spindling to sew the worst of death, hide it away, and it’s a mellow thought, if morbid. Her coat looks soft, and her body, strong. Put back together, at least. "That's— That’s such a pretty pattern on Fl-Floof’s back,“ Enid comments.

"Goodyear, for a truck—winter coverage.”

…a-ah. Okay.

Wednesday lingers in place, with her eyes avoidant, and hands tied together. It takes a moment before she begins to ramble—a rarity, with Wednesday, and Enid feels her own heart pool to her foot: “You said you wanted a cat, but I told you—again—that we can’t because of the academy’s policy, but you looked like you wanted to kill yourself when I said that—”

“…Wednesday, I’m not…s-suicidal.”

“—so I went out searching for one, on the roads, and I found this one. She looks like a lot of your sweaters, which is disgusting, so I figured it’d work out. We wouldn’t have to pay for any of the necessities she needed alive, though I’m sure enough nail-paint and -remover will do the equivalent.”

Enid grimaces, though her eyes land on Floof’s white paws, and they snag each toe. “She does have nice nails.”

“I filed them.”

A hum down her mouth, because Enid can smell the anxiety off her neck—even from around the desk, despite whether or not Wednesday herself realizes it. But it's…funny, really. There’s a sort of beauty about it, how mental gymnasticshas become the sound way to understand Wednesday’s language:

Want a pet? Can’t have one because of rules. So, here’s a dead one. With pretty nails you can paint, and a head big enough for a bow.

Enid watches her quietly. Wednesday plays with her hands, spindles them together. Her lips are thin. She’s nervous. Her eyes are cast down. She anticipates.

“How long did this take…?”

Wednesday, slowly, murmurs, “Two weeks. I had to…help with the odor. You would’ve vomited or kissed the floor otherwise.” A pause, then, “…and broken your…pretty nose. Again.”

“That did hurt, yeah…” Enid breathes. (It’s still sore. She swears she’ll set Wednesday’s side of the room on fire, someday.) She rounds the desk’s corner, and Wednesday is swiftly tucked in her arms. There’s that initial frigid moment before Wednesday unwinds, and her body remembers that, yes, it’s Enid, and Enid has the permission. She nudges her pretty nose along Wednesday’s neck. “Thank-you…” is murmured.

“We’re going to reconsider the name." You’re welcome.

"No we’re not." No we’re not. 

Together, they eye Floof, and Floof…is staring at both the door and window simultaneously. With— 

Aww, her tongue is almost sticking out. What a cute touch, Wednesday… 

"You’re needy.”

“It’s almost a full moon…?”

Wednesday twists her head, and Enid seeks for treasure.

They osculate. And her lips feel like death, but they’re the most liveliest thing, all at once.

Hope you enjoyed! :)

[pastanest]

A/N: if you’re wondering why I’m having to repost this, or why you were perhaps previously following me but no longer are, please refer to this post

Daryl Dixon x she/her!reader

spoilers: set in the Commonwealth, but no references to season-specific events

Material Girl

The front door to the apartment slammed against the wall as you stormed in and immediately threw your back against the door to close it again.

“Daryl, we’ve got to go. Now.”

Daryl stood from where he had been lying on the makeshift bed you shared, a mattress on the floor with a couple of pillows and blankets that you had decided to regard as a sleepover kit to make it seem a lot more fun than it really was. He had previously been throwing a tennis ball against the ceiling and catching it as he laid with his back against the mattress in an effort to piss off the neighbours in the flat above who continually played music at a deafening level, which was a problem he never imagined he would experience again. Alas, the Commonwealth had been the rebirth of first world problems in Daryl Dixon’s life.

Tennis ball in-hand, Daryl approached you with a concerned frown, trying to determine what exactly had you staring at him like a deer in headlights before he eventually nodded.

“Alright, gotta grab the kids.”

He didnt question your motives, he trusted your judgement completely, and if you said it was time to go, he was ready.

To Daryl’s surprise, you shook your head as you bustled past him and began absentmindedly tidying away the few toys you’d managed to buy RJ and Judith with the little money you’d earnt from your job so far. “No, we cant take them out of school.”

Daryl looked at you like you were insane. “Ya aint suggestin’ we actually LEAVE ‘em here?!”

You stared back at him blankly, blinking. “When I said we’ve got to go…”

Daryl nodded. “Go, as in leave this place.”

At that, you scoffed and shook your head. “Absolutely not.”

Daryl watched, utterly baffled, as you returned to his side at the front door. “Then where ‘re we goin?”

And in horror, Daryl watched as a wide grin spread across your face and you spoke a word he had hoped he would never hear leave your lips.

“Shopping!”

It came to pass that you and Rosita had discovered a clothes store down the street that you had not yet explored in your first week of being in this alternative dimension to the world beyond the walls. The two of you had decided you would drag Daryl and Eugene - kicking and screaming in mind, sulking and hanging their heads low in body - shopping, solely to be the audience to your fashion show. It was unlikely you would be able to afford anything, but neither of you cared, it was the principle.

Daryl Dixon never thought he would see the day when he was led by the hand of the love of his life into a clothing store, while the dead were walking the earth everywhere else. It was one of the most fucked up moments of his life, in all honesty, and he could not stop imagining Merle getting kicked out of a store like this for fondling a mannequin’s plastic breasts and then continuing to howl with laughter from beyond the display windows as Daryl actually stood in a clothes store. He and Eugene were pushed into a pair of chairs opposite a row of changing room doors, and then you and Rosita disappeared into the store, giggling like a pair of teenage girls. Still, at least Daryl wasnt alone in his suffering.

“Scenes of this nature are usually inserted prior to events such as a fictional prom or date amongst women in their most highly rated flicks for chicks. Perhaps this insinuates we are the lucky ones, comrade-in-mannequin-arms.”

On second thought, maybe Daryl would rather be sitting alone.

Twenty agonising minutes later, you and Rosita returned to Daryl’s line of sight, and then you both disappeared behind the changing room doors. Daryl shuffled in his seat and straightened his shirt, knowing that if nothing else, this was the part he needed to take seriously. Not that he would ever admit it, but he knew Eugene was right. As stereotypical as it was, getting proper feedback to new outfits and the like was an important thing for partners to give each other. He would also never admit to anyone except you that he had often had dreams of being with you in the old world and doing mundane shit exactly like this, going to the movies, going out for dinner, being dragged on a shopping trip that you both know he’d just be pretending he hated. As much as he isnt entirely comfortable with the social aspect of it all, Daryl cant deny that the sheer joy on your face at being able to experience something you clearly never thought you would again, really was a sight for sore eyes.

And so, Daryl mentally prepared himself to deliver compliments that usually would not be heard by an audience, because this was his chance to publicly declare his affections, in the least obnoxious way possible. The two of you had been together long enough, he was past the point of worrying about you rejecting any kind of compliment from him.

The first outfit was a sunshine yellow dress that took Daryl’s breath away, and he made certain to let you know when he rose from his seat the second you stepped out of the changing room, like a gentleman rising from the table when the lady entered a room.

“Go on, gi’ me a spin.” He gestured to you, and you giggled as spun around, lifting the skirt of the dress as you twirled, and Daryl couldnt wipe the dopey smile off of his face as he wolf whistled at you.

“Aint you jus’ a dime, sweet girl.” He walked up to you and held your hands in his, leaning forward just enough to plant a soft kiss on your forehead.

Meanwhile, Rosita’s first outfit was a pair of baggy green camo pants and a long sleeved black t-shirt, to which Eugene made the very astute observation of her resembling Kim Possible, causing Rosita to scoff and return to the changing room.

Your second outfit was a more multi-purpose one, a nice pair of jeans and a flower blouse that both complimented your figure but enabled you to kick some serious ass if shit hit the fan. A pretty, but still adaptable ensemble. Daryl once again rose from his seat and requested a spin, his eyes very nearly rolling out of his skull at the sight of your ass in those jeans, causing him to clear his throat and straighten his shirt as he blushed, which you definitely noticed.

“Looks real good on you.” He said, and he cannot believe it, but he actually gave two very brief thumbs up as he sat back down. Merle would have literally passed out in the street if he’d seen Daryl do that.

Rosita’s second outfit was a gorgeous summer dress that was flattering, comfortable, and made you call her the hottest milf you’ve ever seen. Eugene blinked at this, nodded, and elected not to say anything for fear of Rosita knocking his teeth out.

Your third and final outside was the money maker, the one that you knew Daryl would like the most, and you were absolutely right. When you had stepped out of the changing room, Daryl had been slouching in the chair with his right elbow against the armrest and his right index finger across his top lip, trying to get the image of your ass in those jeans out of his mind. But when he saw the image of you, decked out in a pair of black skinny jeans, a strappy blood red tank with killer cleavage and a black leather jacket with an amalgamation of classic rock band logos and badges stitched to the back of it, Daryl Dixon very nearly lost consciousness.

At your side, Rosita stepped out in her final outfit: a floor length, slinky and strapless red dress, with equally killer cleavage. Eugene’s spirit had ascended beyond the realm of comprehension for a short time, and he genuinely looked like he had been shot.

Feeling your confidence skyrocket from the way you had stunned your boyfriend, you put on a fake sultry southern accent and said “Tell me about it, stud” before you and Rosita bursted into fits of laughter.

It was then, Eugene’s spirit returned to him, and he cleared his throat. “This is what I believe to be the showstopper to stop all of the shows. Speaking entirely from a statistical standpoint, given the state of the world and its lack of societies as we know it, Rosita, I wish to offer my humble being if we should be the last humans on earth at any point and you wish to repopulate. If you do not wish to continue the species, however, I will respect this with the utmost chivalry, and will remain at your side until the very last sunset. It is not likely we will live to see the very last sunset of our earth’s sun, but I will be at your side until we see our last sunset with what I hope to be much older eyes. Furthermore-“

At that point, Rosita cut him off. “Okay, Eugene, we get it! Go get some air, you’re like a dog on heat.”

Not having the grounds to disagree with that statement, Eugene stood from his chair and left the store, waiting outside like a child who’s been told by his mother he cant enter the store because he cant be trusted not to touch anything. In the meantime, Rosita returned to the changing room to return to the clothes she had arrived in, and you shook your head.

“Those two are one hell of a duo.” You chuckled, then realised Daryl was still staring at you and had not moved. “Hey, everything alright? Earth to Daryl?” You waved a hand in front of his face and when you got no response, crouched down in front of him. This altered Daryl’s view of your cleavage considerably, and he swallowed.

“Ya gonna buy that?” He asked, his voice husky.

You laughed. “I wish! There’s no way I can afford it, unfortunately.”

Still not moving, Daryl responded. “We’ll save up.”

You raised an eyebrow, smiling at him as you recognised the scale of the impact you’d had on him. “Yeah?”

Daryl nodded, then asked another question. “How long ‘til the kids get home?”

Checking your watch, you glanced back at him. “About an hour, why?”

For a brief moment, there was silence, before Daryl nodded, stood up, nodded at the changing room, and finally glanced at you.

“How quick can ya get changed and get home?”

Your eyes widened. “Uhh, 10 minutes, probably, why?”

With one last full look up and down your body, Daryl nodded. “See ya in 10.”

And then, he was out of that front door and on his way home faster than you can say Eugene had passed out in the middle of the street.

[precious-little-scoundrel]

Dropping in to ask if Ida had ever been in any serious relationships before the war? And if those relationships were ones she didn’t really remember well after the POW Camp because of her trauma?

This is such a good question. I imagine that while she was working for her uncle in Florida she did date a few guys. Very casually. Not to suggest casual means loosely.

But Ida is not one to waste time and so they were all plausible candidates for the long haul. But none were either impressive or stuck around and she herself unwittingly sabotaged anything longterm as she didn’t know what she wanted of life and yet her religious beliefs kept her from on acting on much without the promise of marriage. Bit of a catch that didn’t affect her too badly, she wasn’t stressed over it, tbh, far more interested in making money and excelling in her field.

I have a curry headcanon that one of her dates ended up crying and she was all “was it something is said?” and her brothers Johnny and Eugen have never let her live that down. She made a dude cry. Alas.

Tbh, it’s mainly the trauma that makes her very self concious of being inexperienced otherwise, of her age, of being a mother without having ever had a real romantic relationship. Even if hardly anyone knows that…it all adds up for the post war dating scene to appear utterly forbidding. Just forget it, in her mind

[theteasetwrites]

The Beginning Is the End Is the Beginning

Chapter 63: The Library of Alexandria

❧ Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader ❧ Era: Season 9 ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: SMUT—sixty-nine, oral (female/male receiving), mild swearing ❧ Word Count: 8.1k (you might wanna grab a snack for this one)

❧ In This Chapter: Six years have passed since the events at the bridge resulting in Rick's presumed death, and despite the hardship of that event, things have been relatively peaceful, with you returning to your library roots and raising your five-year-old daughter with Daryl. Newcomers threaten the peace, but the return of your husband from his long hunt leads to much needed relief.

❧ A/N: Oof this is a long one, but I really wanted to capture some sweet moments between Reader and her little girl while Daryl is out hunting, and to get a feel for Robin's personality for the first time. I'm really excited to start writing for her! My goal is to make her a lot like both of her parents in different ways, and to watch her ultimately become a fighter like Judith did, but with her own spunk. Oh, and also Reader and Daryl have oral sex so all-around a good time! Yes I know I should have saved the 69 for chapter 69 but alas, I’m dumb.

You hummed to yourself some little tune you made up, stamping return date labels on the books you’d recently checked out. Eugene had gone on a research bender, as usual, this last time checking out a series of books on astronomy and radio signals. He wanted to look into the possibility of contacting other lifeforms, though you had told him it would do him better to stick to Earthly matters.

Still, he was among the most loyal patrons of the library, and you might’ve been the (only) librarian, but you had no control over what the citizens of Alexandria checked out from the moderately sized collection.

You owed him anyway, since he was one of the people to make the library a reality. At least, the blueprints. Daryl and Aaron organized a great deal of the construction, with Eugene’s supervision and expertise, and your personal requests for specific elements of design.

It was finished only two years ago, and relative peace had been established during the last six, since Rick died, and Robin was born.

There were four distinct communities, all of which still had some degree of communication. Alexandria, the largest of the settlements, and the most advanced in many ways, seemed to be the hub of activity, with the Hilltop, the Kingdom, and Oceanside also engaging in trade and communication.

Though Michonne had become much more strict about outsiders, and even a little wary of communicating with the other settlements, she still allowed visitors from other trusted communities to trade, and even peruse the great “Library of Alexandria,” as it simply had to be called.

You only hoped it wouldn’t meet the same fate as the last one.

The library was empty at the moment, giving you ample time to catch up on the stamps and placing the books on the prep truck to be organized in call number order before reshelving to the collection. It wasn’t what you had been doing before the end, when you were doing much more than relatively menial tasks, but you enjoyed it nevertheless.

Having the ability to work in a real library again was nothing to be sniffed at, and the satisfaction of providing the civilization around you with vast fountains of knowledge was certainly unrivaled.

And there was, of course, the quiet, which never ceased to ease whatever worries were raging inside you.

Quiet, until the all too familiar clatter of books hitting the ground startled you, causing you to flinch and instinctively reach for the knife in your belt holster.

Turning swiftly, you were frozen for a moment, staring at the little girl looking shamefully at the pile of books at her small feet.

“Robin,” you sighed, replacing your knife in its holder. “What did I tell you about sneaking up on people?”

She looked up at you with those impossibly round, silvery blue eyes. “Sorry, Mommy. I was trying to look at the cat book.”

You tilted your head and bent down to sort through the messy pile of books. Robin quickly sat herself on her knees to help you, picking up as many books as her little arms could carry.

“I got it,” you said with a smile. The little girl was incredibly polite, almost too polite. “Go read your cat book.” You extended a hand and patted her light brown hair, trying not to mess up the loose pigtails on either side of her head. She asked for braids, but, ironically, only Daryl could do braids. You never learned, and Daryl knew ropes, so he’d tie her hair in rope braids, when he was home.

She turned with a flourish to pick up her Eyewitness book on cats. You were trying to collect all of them for the children when you went on your monthly library runs, but Robin seemed to have a fascination with the ones on animals. Ever since Daryl brought home that dog three years ago, she needed to know everything about every animal.

Plopping herself down onto one of the bean bag chairs in the children’s corner, she looked up from her book with that curious look on her face, the one that always indicated a question was coming your way.

“Mommy?” she asked.

You looked up from your stamping. “Yes, sweetheart?”

She closed her book and laid it gently on her lap, in her strangely mature little way. “When’s Daddy coming back?”

“He should be back in three days, baby. You know that.”

She sighed and pursed her lips, and you closed your book to walk around your desk towards her, kneeling down and taking her little hand in yours. One thing you wished you hadn’t accidentally imparted onto her was your own worry when Daryl left on hunting trips. Every year around this time, he’d leave on a particularly long one, since winter was just around the corner, and the older Robin got, the more terrified she became that her father wouldn’t return.

“Are you worried again?” you asked softly.

She lowered her head and shrugged. “No,” she said.

You tilted your head. “Robin.” You lifted her chin and made her look at you, with her big doe eyes blinking rapidly. “What are you scared of?”

There was plenty to be scared of, of course. Though Robin had a very faint idea of what was lurking beyond the walls, she didn’t know the details yet, about the walkers. It wasn’t in the kindergarten curriculum, and she hadn’t asked yet. All she knew was that the outside world was dangerous, and that she couldn’t go just yet.

“Judith said…” She trailed off, almost looking through you as the words faded into thin air.

“Judith said what?”

“Well,” she continued, “she said… She said there are monsters in the woods, like in the stories, that they’re real.”

You closed your eyes and huffed. Of course the day would come when one of the other kids would tell her that the monsters weren’t just stories, but you didn’t think it would be her own adoptive cousin. Robin worshipped the ground Judith walked on, and she was about four years older, so anything the girl said, she believed.

“She said they eat people,” she continued, a fearful quivering in her voice. “And—and when they bite you, you turn into one of them… And their teeth are all rotten and their skin is all cold. They live outside the walls, and Daddy’s outside the walls, so what if—”

“Robin,” you stopped her before she could articulate your own worst fear, “that’s not going to happen. Your daddy knows how to deal with anything and everything that’s out there. He’s done it for a long time.” You lifted her chin again when she started to hang her head. “Don’t you worry about that. He’s coming home, like he always does.”

“But… But are there monsters, like Judith said?”

You chewed on your bottom lip, trying to decide what to say. “Yes,” you said. “There are monsters, but there are lots of good things outside the walls, too. Lots of trees, and flowers, and… cats.” You pointed to the lion on the cover of Robin’s book. “Not like the housecats we have here, but like the ones that roar, like that tiger I told you about that King Ezekiel had. And you know, those monsters aren’t really monsters. There’s no such thing as monsters.”

“Then what are they?”

She was the most curious child you ever knew. If there was a question to be asked, Robin asked it.

“Well, that’s something you’ll learn when you’re a little older, sweet pea. It’s hard to understand, even adults don’t understand it. I think you’ve learned enough about it already.” You leaned forward to kiss her forehead. “Let’s go home. It’s time for dinner.”

You closed the ornate wooden door to the library behind you and Robin, locking it with the iron key and flipping over the “closed” sign. Taking Robin’s hand in yours, you began the short walk to your home, still that same light blue house.

Just as you were turning the corner around the church, you saw a crowd gathered near the gates. You couldn’t tell what exactly was happening, but there were quite a few people with weapons at the ready, and immediately you turned to Robin.

“Go inside,” you said, pointing to your house just across the street. “I’ll be right there.”

“But—”

You gave her a stern look, which she knew meant you were serious. She let go of your hand and you watched her run towards the house and into the front door as you walked forward, trying to suss out the situation the closer you got.

From what you gathered, Aaron’s group had just arrived. He’d gone out that morning with Eugene, Rosita, and Laura, but he was joined now by a handful of strangers.

You eyed Aaron as you approached, and he nodded to you, signaling you to stay back as they waited for Michonne.

In the nick of time, she came riding through the gates on horseback, and seemed immediately disturbed by the small group of newcomers.

She hadn’t let anyone in since the incident with Jocelyn, and you didn’t blame her. You yourself didn’t want anyone else coming into Alexandria, though you were willing to make exceptions for those who could plead their case. Michonne, on the other hand, was much more strict.

You had a seat on the council, so your opinion was held in high regard, but Michonne was the leader, and her word was final.

She came forward with a confident, though standoffish, stride.

“You wanna tell me what this is?” she asked one of the guards, D.J., a former Savior you had first met at the bridge camp so many years ago.

“Five unknowns,” he said. “All clean, one headed to the infirmary.”

Michonne was immediately skeptical, demanding an explanation. To your surprise, Aaron stepped forward and claimed to have brought the five strangers into Alexandria, though Judith, who had also gone outside the walls with Aaron and the others, claimed she decided to bring them home, since they needed help.

This visibly irritated Michonne, and Gabriel responded by suggesting a council meeting be held tomorrow, since night would be falling soon.

“What do you think?” you asked Aaron, who sat at the bar in your kitchen, watching Gracie and Robin play hand games at the dining room table.

He turned to look at you. You could never get used to that huge bush of a beard he was growing. He gave up shaving several years ago. Daryl did, too, but he never grew more than a light scruff and a thinly layered goatee (much to your satisfaction, as you thought such an accessory would distract from his handsome face).

“I think Gabriel made a good call,” he said. “Michonne’s worried that it’ll turn out like the last time she let someone in, but I don’t think it’ll be like that this time.”

“Why?” you asked, wiping down the counter with a washcloth.

He shrugged and folded his hands upon the bar. “Just have a feeling. They seem… I don’t know. I mean, you always say you had a bad feeling about Jocelyn, well I don’t get that with these people.”

“Feelings can be deceiving,” you replied. “I mean, I’d like to believe they’re good, too, but what if—”

“Daddy?” Gracie’s voice called out from across the room to Aaron.

He turned to look at the eight-year-old. “Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Can Robin and I be excused?”

He turned back to you. “It’s fine with me. You’ll have to ask your auntie, it’s her house.”

You looked at Robin with a raised eyebrow. “I wanna show her my new Barbie,” she said, with an impatient bounce. Daryl brought Robin Barbies practically every time he went out. She was utterly spoiled with the biggest doll collection in Alexandria. “Please.”

You laughed. “Fine by me. Go on, just put your plates in the sink before you go.”

The two girls jumped up from their seats and fast-walked to the sink with their plates. You stopped them to kiss the tops of their heads before they ran out of the dining room and bolted up the stairs to Robin’s room.

Aaron shook his head. “You’re just like Dad, such a pushover,” he said.

“Not as bad as Daryl,” you replied. “That little girl has him wrapped around her finger. She got him to wear a tiara, and she’s almost suckered him into finding her a bunny.”

Aaron’s eyes widened. “A real rabbit?”

You nodded, turning on the sink to wash the dishes. “Mhm. She’s getting tired of the stuffed one. He’s got this plan, but I told him it might be hard to domesticate it, and then there’s Dog, which is a whole other thing.”

“A bunny wouldn’t last a day around that dog,” he said.

“Yeah, but Daryl thinks he can train him to leave the rabbit alone,” you said with a laugh. “Knowing him, I bet he could. He’s always surprising me.”

Aaron smiled, and rose from his seat to help you with the dishes. “How long has he been gone now?”

You sighed. “About a month from yesterday.”

“You know he’s looking for Rick, right?”

“Yeah,” you said. “I know. He’s hunting, too, and getting supplies for the winter. He does this every year, I just wish he’d take someone with him.”

Aaron dried the dishes and began placing them in their designated cabinets. He spent enough time in your house now that he knew every nook and cranny. “Well, I’ve offered, but I think he just likes to be on his own out there, you know? I mean, alone with Dog.”

You laughed. “Yeah, that’s my Daryl… Hey,” you said, stopping to look at Aaron. “Stop that.” You pointed to the plate in his good hand. “I got it. You get on your way to the Hilltop before it gets too dark. You need to get back early for the council meeting tomorrow.”

Aaron rolled his eyes. “How do you know I’m going to the Hilltop?”

“Aaron,” you said, “will you stop acting like I don’t know? Jesus is waiting…” You began to giggle before Aaron tossed the dish drying towel at your face.

“Goddamnit, (Y/N)!” he laughed, trying to sound mad but failing. “There’s nothing going on between us.”

“Mhm, sure… Why do you keep it a secret then?”

“Well, I just don’t want Michonne to know. It violates protocol, you know. She’d kill me if she found out. I’m already on thin ice for letting Judith bring those people here.”

“She has her reasons,” you said. “But this is the happiest you’ve been in a while, so go hang out with your friend. Gracie can spend the night like last time.”

He gave you a wide, loving smile, and set the plates down to give you a big hug. “Thanks, sis,” he said. “Love you.”

“Love you, too. Now go, away with you!” you said in an exaggerated English accent, with a grandiose gesture of your hands.

He went upstairs to say goodbye to Gracie and Robin, and headed out for his nighttime rendezvous with Jesus. They often met halfway between the two communities. You and Daryl were the only ones who knew of this tryst, but it was definitely under the radar, so you tried not to prod him about it too much, though you wondered if Aaron had developed feelings for the Hilltop’s leader.

That night, you checked up on the girls just before bed, insisting that they go to sleep before ten.

“Time for bed,” you said to the children, who were sitting on Robin’s bed playing with her large collection of Barbie dolls. At least they already had their pajamas on.

“Do we have to?” Robin asked, in her begging voice.

You closed your robe over your nightgown and walked over to pull back the covers of Robin’s bed. “Yes. It’s almost ten. We have to have some rules in this house, ladies.”

The girls giggled, always amused when you referred to them as “ladies,” and hopped off the bed to put away the plastic dolls.

You stepped back to let the girls grab their stuffed animals and snuggle into their sides of the bed. It was a tight squeeze, but the girls were practically conjoined at the hip anyway, so it seemed like the perfect arrangement. They were really more like sisters than cousins.

Leaning over to pull the covers over them and tuck them in, you placed a kiss on each of their cheeks. “Goodnight, girls,” you said. “Love you.”

“Mommy?” Robin asked, just as you were about to turn to switch on her nightlight.

You turned back to look at the girls, innocently peering over Robin’s colorful patchwork quilt. “Yes, sweet pea?”

“Can you tell us the story again?”

You rolled your eyes with an amused smile. “Oh, boy,” you sighed, “haven’t you heard that story enough?” You looked over to Gracie, her stringy golden blonde hair already a mess as it sprawled out on the pillow. “Gracie, you don’t want to hear that story, do you?”

She nodded. “Yes, aunt (Y/N). I love the story. Pleeease?”

“Pleeease?” Robin repeated.

You held your hands up in defeat. “All right, all right!” Sitting at the foot of the bed, you cleared your throat, to which the girls wriggled their bodies to settle more comfortably as they prepared to hear their favorite story. It was always heavily exaggerated and coded with fantastical language, but you had to admit that you loved to relive it. Well, parts of it.

“Once upon a time, in a distant, faraway kingdom called Georgia,” you began, incredibly amused by the children’s wide-eyed stares of wonderment, “there lived a princess, whose home was overrun by these mean, scary creatures. She was forced to leave, and she went to find her brother, but she never found him. Instead, she found these people, and they helped her, and she helped them. They found this ancient quarry, where the creatures couldn’t get to them, until they did.”

The girls gasped in some combination of amusement and fear, as they’d heard your apocalypse story many times before. You couldn’t figure out why they liked it so much, since it was riddled with tragedy, though you always made it much more lighthearted for them.

“One day, the princess was out in the woods, picking magical mushrooms, when a creature snuck up on her, and tried to hurt her. She fought as well as she could, but she didn’t know much about fighting. Then, a speeding arrow shot straight through the walk—I mean, the creature's head, and the creature fell down dead.”

You stuck your tongue out and rolled your eyes back with a “bleh” noise to illustrate your point, to which the girls giggled.

The next part was your favorite.

“And then,” you continued, “the princess laid eyes on the archer who had slain the creature—a strong, handsome man, with eyes as blue as the shimmering sea, and a face as kind as…” You couldn’t think of a good simile. “Well, a very kind face. He looked just like Robin Hood.”

“Daddy!” Robin exclaimed with a giggle, to which you shushed the excited child, who knew the story by heart by now.

“Yes, yes,” you said. “Well, he saved the princess’s life, and what was she to do to repay him? She took him and his brother to her people, where the hunters would agree to help the people in their struggles against the world full of vicious creatures. She didn’t have any idea of who the men were, but she knew deep in her heart that this was the right thing to do, that the archer was a good man, so she trusted him. He was kind to her, made her feel… happy, like everything was going to be all right as long as he was there. He even taught her how to fight, to defend herself so she wouldn’t be so helpless.”

You paused for a moment, getting a little lost in your thoughts of Daryl… “What happened next?” Gracie asked.

You sighed sadly, knowing the story became sadder from here. “The princess and her people needed to leave the quarry because it wasn’t safe anymore, so they found this magical place, called the CDC, in the hopes of finding a cure for the creatures. There wasn’t any luck, but the princess and the archer found this… sparkle in each other, and they fell in love. They kissed, and everything seemed right in the world for a moment, but soon something happened, and the CDC burst into flames!”

The girls gasped. “Oh, no!” they cried together, genuinely saddened by the story they’d heard so many times.

“Yes, but then, they found a magical farmland, the Greene farm, where the people thought they could have a real home. When that home was taken from them, too, they were without a home, on the road in the dark and the cold for several months, until a prison appeared on the horizon. After fighting against the nefarious Governor and the Kingdom of Woodbury, the princess and her archer could finally live in peace in the safety of the prison, with the rest of her family and friends. Tragedy struck again when the Governor returned, firing upon the prison and leaving it to crumble in the dust.

“Then, they were all alone again, separated and frightened, but the princess still had her archer, and they protected each other, kept each other safe and warm, until they found their other friends again. All was not well, though, when a bunch of merciless, bloodthirsty… um, bad guys, captured them, and almost hurt them, but the brave archer, and his equally brave merry band, fought back, and saved the princess and her friends.

“But they still didn’t have anywhere to go, so they wandered for miles and miles, trying to find somewhere to call home. It was hard, but they all had each other, and the princess had her archer, and they loved each other so much that they made it through, and by some miracle, they reached the land of Virginia, the princess’s home. There, they sought shelter in an old, stinky barn, while a terrible storm raged outside. In the morning, a stranger appeared before the group, but he wasn’t really a stranger at all.”

“Daddy!” interjected Gracie.

“Yeah,” you laughed. “Good Prince Aaron of Alexandria came to rescue the princess and her friends, taking them to the magical, beautiful kingdom of Alexandria. The princess was so happy to finally have the home she always dreamed of, and the archer was suspicious, but eventually, he realized just how happy the princess was, so he became happy, too, and they were married, and everything was well. But it was too good to be true, because an evil pirate and his band of plunderers found out about the abundance of Alexandria, and they wanted it for themselves. They tried to take everything from them, and they did take a lot, but they didn’t take their hope. They fought back, every last one of them, for their home, for their future.

“They were led by the great Rick Grimes, who brought the pirate down to his knees, and banished him from the kingdom forever. So the people took back their home, and began to live their lives as they wanted to. The princess and the archer were finally able to start a family, and the white stork brought them their precious little baby that they’d been asking for for so long, Princess Robin the Kindhearted.” You rested your hand upon Robin’s knee and wiggled her around a little, to which she smiled at you bashfully. “So at last, the princess and the archer were at peace, but even through all of it, they were always hopeful, because they had each other, and they protected each other. No merciless tyrants or hideous creatures could tear them apart because their love was so strong, and love is the most important thing in the whole world. So, they all lived happily ever after. The end.”

The girls clapped, and you bowed your head in a dramatic fashion. “Thank you, thank you,” you said.

“You forgot to mention that you were the princess,” Robin said matter-of-factly.

You rolled your eyes. “Well, isn’t it obvious?” you asked playfully. “Of course I was the princess.”

“You didn’t talk about Uncle Merle, either,” Gracie pointed out.

The story was always a little different every time, since it was purely coming from your brain, and you were always sure to leave out certain details, such as the fact that the “pirate” was now in custody in Alexandria, or that several people had died on the journey, but you decided that Robin didn’t need to know about all of that just yet. She was still so young.

“I mentioned him!” you said defensively. “If you want to hear stories about Uncle Merle, you have to ask Uncle Daryl when he comes home. He has plenty of stories.” Of course, none of which they would really understand, since they all had to do with sex, drugs, and violence, and Daryl had no idea how to tell stories in the fantastical, G-rated way you told them (he always ended up being much too realistic for the girls’ tastes).

“Can you tell the one about how Daddy made your ring and necklace, Mommy?” she asked pleadingly. The girl’s favorite stories were always the ones that involved some kind of romance, a preference which she must’ve gotten from you.

You shook your head and rose to your feet. “I think that’s enough story time for tonight, sweet pea.” You leaned forward to kiss their foreheads again, and turned to switch off the bedside lamp. “Goodnight, ladies.”

“Goodnight, Momma.”

“Goodnight, Auntie (Y/N).”

The next morning was busy, as you sent the girls off to school, and went straight to the city hall for the council meeting where the fate of the five newcomers, Luke, Magna, Yumiko, Connie, and Kelly, would be decided.

You sat beside Aaron, along with Michonne, Siddiq, Gabriel, and a few other council members. There was a large turnout in the seats, with everyone who didn’t have jobs to do at the time showing up to see what would become of the strangers.

The group introduced themselves, aside from Yumiko, who was resting in the infirmary with an injury. To you, they seemed relatively normal, but Michonne revealed that Magna had a prison tattoo, and that she was hiding a knife in her belt.

These two factors didn’t necessarily tell you that they were bad people, since she could have been in prison for a number of reasons, and perhaps she just didn’t trust your people enough to go in without a knife, but the revelation did seem to rile up the crowd, who broke out into murmurs about the newcomers.

So the decision was to keep the group there until the injured one had healed, but you were hoping there might be a reconsideration, since your idealism was getting to you again, and you hoped they might be good people, even if that X-shaped scar on your back started burning whenever you were faced with the idea of letting in new people.

The next day, Yumiko was deemed by Siddiq to be well enough to hit the road, so their group prepared to do just that, but Michonne had a change of heart, and decided to escort the group to the Hilltop, where she was sure they would be welcomed.

They headed out that afternoon, and Aaron made his own journey to meet up with Jesus again at the halfway point. Despite this, you were happy, because Daryl was supposed to come home tomorrow, and he always came home on time.

And sure enough, he did.

You were serving Robin and Gracie their dinner when the roar of the engine echoed through the walls. Robin’s eyes lit up and she looked at you, waiting for your answer.

“Go on,” you said.

She bolted up from her seat and ran out the front door, with you and Gracie following to see Daryl.

“Daddy!” she cried, running towards him as he stepped off his bike. He turned and smiled that wide, lopsided grin of his as he knelt down and held his arms open. She did a little leap and wrapped her arms around his neck, and he embraced her tightly.

“Hey, little bird,” he said, running his hand through her hair. Dog followed behind, running up to your feet and nearly tripping over himself as he jumped up on you.

“Oh, God!” you cried with laughter. Dog always slobbered on you.

Daryl let go of Robin with a kiss to her forehead, and turned his attention to you. Well, to the dog. “Bad dog!” he yelled.

As you tried to calm down the boisterous Belgian malinois, Daryl made his way up to you, with Robin’s hand in his. She would never let go of it.

He used his free hand to get Dog to stop licking your face. “Stop,” he said to the dog, and looked at you with a sweet smile when the dog moved to greet Gracie and Robin. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you said before wrapping your arms around him and clinging to his shirt. He held you close, letting go of Robin’s hand to hug you, and gave you a chaste kiss on the lips. “That’s all I get?” you whispered.

He tilted his head. “For now, crazy woman.”

With Robin hanging on his feet, he trudged in through the door and took off his muddied boots and crossbow. You immediately sent him to the shower, and sent the girls to get their pajamas on before bedtime.

After his shower and an hour or so of playing with Robin and Gracie, he finally came downstairs to eat dinner, a bowl of vegetarian chili (you were trying to stop eating meat again, much to Daryl’s slight concern that you weren’t getting enough protein).

Still, he woofed it down, with the usual grunts of appreciation.

“Slow down!” you laughed. “You’re eating too fast.”

He looked up at you as he chewed. “I’m hungry, goddamnit,” he said with his mouth full, but clinked his spoon against the ceramic bowl to stop himself.

You sat down across from him and rested your chin upon your hands. “Any spoils?”

“Mmm,” he grunted, wiping his face with the sleeve of his pajama shirt. “Dropped ‘em off at the pantry. Big deer, been trackin’ it the whole time. Lots of tampons.”

You snorted. “Oh, good. No rabbits?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Alive or dead?”

You poked his arm teasingly. “Alive, smartass. For Robin.”

“Thought ya didn’t want me to,” he said. “‘Cause of the dog.” He nodded his head towards the sleeping canine, lying on the floor by his feet as usual. Dog had his favorite person, and that was Daryl.

You shrugged. “I don’t know. It’d be nice to have a bunny… Something small and fluffy, that doesn’t lick my face.” You made an accusatory look at Dog.

“He just likes you,” replied Daryl, spooning some more chili into his mouth.

“Yeah, and he gives me a more impassioned greeting after a long absence than my own husband,” you said teasingly.

He shook his head and ate the last of his chili before bolting up from his seat and rounding the table to pull your chair out from behind you and lift you up by your arms. You became limp, laughing as he held you tight and began licking your face, lapping up and down your cheeks and your nose.

“Ugh, Daryl!” you cried out laughing. “Stop!”

He tongued at you more vigorously, trailing down to your neck and sucking at the skin there desperately. You hummed in appreciation and draped your arms lazily around his neck. “I missed you.”

He raised his lips to your ear where he whispered, “I missed you too. Got enough stuff for the winter, though. Shouldn’t have to leave for a while. Least not for that long.”

You tangled your fingers in his wavy brown hair. “Mmm,” you hummed with your eyes closed. “Good. I need someone to keep me warm at night, you know.”

Lowering one hand, he raised the skirt of mid-length nightgown and reached up to cup your mound, pushing aside the fabric of your panties and tickling the fleshy folds.

You squealed a little and straightened your back in surprise at the feeling. “Oh, God,” you sighed. The tingling surged through you and you rubbed your thighs together in delight as you opened your eyes to look at him, his face dimly lit and soft in feature. “If you don’t do something to me right now, Daryl Dixon, I’ll cry.”

He rubbed his hand up and down your folds, and you instinctively rocked against his warm fingers to feel more of the pressure.

“Shit, don’t wanna make my old lady cry,” he said. “Gotta keep ‘er nice and happy.”

You nodded, nudging your nose against his. “That’s right.”

The two of you snuck up the stairs quietly, like two teenagers trying not to wake their parents, only it was the other way around, as you were trying not to wake your five-year-old daughter and your eight-year-old niece.

You tiptoed across the second floor landing, and quickly, but quietly, shut the door behind you when you both entered the bedroom.

Locking the door, you felt Daryl’s bare chest against your back, and his scruff scratching against your neck as he sloppily kissed you, moving aside your hair and resting his hands on your hips.

He moved his body closer to you, and you felt the heat radiating from him that was always there, and the hardness of his cock, now only separated by his boxers.

Nothing could compare to that feeling, knowing how much he wanted you, and how excited you made him.

“You really did miss me, huh?” you asked, turning your head a little as he kept bestowing sweet, tongue-heavy kisses on the bridge of your neck and shoulder.

“Always miss ya,” he said. “You’re my angel… My sweet, pretty angel.”

You beamed and flipped around as he held you by your hips. “And you’re my big softie.”

He flicked your nose, as was his usual response to being called that, but quickly his demeanor changed when he remembered just how turned on he was. He stepped back towards the bed, and pulled you with him until you both flopped onto the soft mattress.

You ended up straddling him, and laughing when he immediately reached up to paw at your breasts. He began to massage them harshly, practically trying to rip the nightgown from your body.

When you pulled the garment up and away, he grabbed your shoulders and pulled you down to kiss him, and he reached down to grab your ass and squeeze it demandingly. You moaned in response, and rubbed up against him to satiate your desire.

He pulled down your panties, and you tossed them away from around your ankles.

“You going to stay down there?” you asked him, your back straight and looking down at him. Your body already began to rock with anticipation.

He looked up at you with soft, hazy eyes. You could tell he was quite tired. “Yeah. I’m exhausted. Do what you want, princess. I’m all yours. ”

You raised an eyebrow. “You sure you want to do it? We don’t have to. Sleep is more important.”

“No way. I need ya, however ya want. Come on.”

In immediate need, you lifted your leg and reached down to pull off his boxers. His cock sprang up a bit to hit the outside of your pussy. He pushed off his underwear as you pulled up and down on his length, rubbing circles around the tip, and massaging his balls when you reached the base.

He closed his eyes and grabbed your waist with both hands, positioning you above his cock.

“Nope,” you said with a teasing smile as you pushed his hands off of you. He opened his eyes, and looked at you curiously, but he soon understood what you meant when you removed yourself from him briefly, before turning yourself around and straddling his face.

“Mmm,” he moaned when the warmth of your pussy radiated on his face. He wrapped his hands around your thighs and pulled you down enthusiastically, positioning his mouth directly under your clit and slowly encircling it with the tip of his tongue.

He always started so slow, frustrating you and making you want him even more, until he’d start relentlessly lapping up every inch of your pussy, but for now, he knew what he was doing—trying to get you to beg for him.

“Oh, honey,” you moaned, leaning forward a bit to steady yourself by placing your hands on his chest. Your body began to move on its own accord, trying to encourage his tongue to move faster and with more vigor against your sensitive area. “More, please.”

He couldn’t talk, of course, but he groaned against your clit, sending vibrations through the sensitive bundle of nerves. He squeezed your thighs tighter and pulled you down even more, then he couldn’t keep himself from tasting more of you any longer, after not having you for so long, so he wiggled his tongue rapidly, back and forth, up and down your slit.

“Oh!” you cried out as you heard the lapping sounds of his tongue and his saliva licking you sloppily. “Oh, God! Yes!”

You moved your hips back and forth, grinding yourself against his face and lifting yourself up a bit to allow him more air. Leaning forward, you removed one hand from his chest to grab his cock, and moved your hand up and down his shaft, causing him to groan again, and in turn making you grind harder against him as the inevitable tightening and tingling increased.

“Ohhh, Daryl,” you moaned, and couldn’t keep yourself from indulging in the taste of his cock, which throbbed for you between your fingers.

As you leaned down all the way to take him into your mouth, you knew neither of you would last much longer. It had only been a month or so since you last made love, but despite almost ten years of being together, the two of you never got tired of each other, and had sex on a regular basis, except when Daryl left, which was getting to be more and more frequent, since the food situation in Alexandria was not the best for the first time in a while.

When he was gone, there wasn’t any feeling to replace his hands on you, his tongue lapping at you, or his cock pulsing and throbbing inside of you. No matter how much you touched yourself or thought of him, pleasuring you the way only he knew how to, the only man you ever wanted, you could never replicate him, or the feeling of his warm, strong body, weathered by age and hard work, and so, so comforting to you.

He bucked up a little into your mouth at the sudden feeling, and wrapped his arms around your lower back, rubbing the expanse of skin with the utmost appreciation and love as he continued licking you. He put immense pressure upon his tongue as it lapped at your clit, and in return you sucked harder on him, bobbing your head up and down and winding your hand around the base of his reddening cock.

You could feel his mouth suctioning around your folds, and licking at them when he decided to tease you by moving away from your sensitive clit. In response, you removed his cock from your mouth and licked it up and down like a lollipop, releasing breathy sighs as the pleasure coursed through you, and you could feel the beginning of your orgasmic contractions.

“Oh…” you moaned as you pulled on his cock. “Daryl…”

He moved his hands to your ass, where he spread you open more to get as close as he could, and moved his tongue back to your clit, tonguing at it relentlessly, and making the most deliciously wet sounds as his saliva splashed against your juices.

Your hips moved without control to grind upon his tongue, and as you did so, you saw the precum leaking from his tip. In an effort to match up your orgasms, you grinded on him even harder, and he licked you even harder, until you were letting out several strained, high-pitched moans, throwing your head back as you kept tugging on his beautiful cock.

“Oh, oh!” you cried. “Yes, right there! Oh, ooohhh, baby!”

Your thighs clenched tighter around his head, a feeling he loved so deeply, almost as much as he loved the taste of your leaking fluids pouring into his mouth as you came, and the sound of your sweet, almost weepy moans and whimpers of pleasure. He suctioned tightly to your clit as you bounced atop his face, and let his tongue move wildly with your convulsing body. His tongue felt every subtle contraction of your pussy, and he smiled to himself at that familiar, lovely sensation.

In the throes of your orgasm, Daryl felt his high coming in just a few seconds, and sure enough, his deep, guttural groans, muffled by your pussy, were accompanied by spouts of white liquid expelling from his tip as you pulled on him. You felt the heat of the warm juices dripping over your hand, and in the midst of your orgasm, you leaned down to suck on him again, kissing every inch and trying to take in as much of him as you could. You moaned into the sweet, salty taste, and held his drained cock in your hands as you bestowed more sweet, appreciative kisses along his shaft and atop his tip. You used your hand to gently squeeze and massage his balls, and sucked on them a little when you were through with his cock.

He rubbed your back in appreciation as he kissed your pussy all over, and darted his tongue in and out of you to get a deeper taste of you, still convulsing as your orgasm died down.

“Mmm,” he moaned. “That didn’t last long,” he said with a laugh.

You turned your head and bit your lip. “But it was so good,” you purred. “Thank you.”

He watched you turn around and pull the covers over both of you, and laid out his arm for you to snuggle against him like you always did. The routine was always there, but it never got old, and neither of you ever wanted anything besides each other, that was clear.

“Don’t gotta say thank you, woman. It’s my job to take care of ya.” He pressed an innocent kiss upon your forehead. “Best job I got.”

You hummed as you concentrated on running your hand back and forth through his chest hairs. “You’re not tired of me?”

He scoffed. “Why the hell would I be tired of you? I love you.”

Sometimes your insecurity got the better of you, a byproduct of being naturally self-deprecating, and of being hurt in the past. Though Jerome had hurt you so long ago, sleeping with so many women behind your back, and then coming back to try to take advantage of you, the effects were still there, and you often wondered if Daryl would rather be with someone else, that you weren’t good enough for him anymore, even though you often scolded him for making the same insecure statement.

You shrugged. “You know…”

He wrapped his arm around you tighter. “I ever tell ya that I ain’t ever loved no one before? You’re the only woman who’s ever made me feel like this. Anythin’ before you… that was drunk bullshit.”

You laughed a little. “Well, you were drunk that night at the CDC.”

“Yeah, and we didn’t sleep together,” he corrected. “Wanted to, but it didn’t happen, ‘cause I knew you were an angel… and ‘cause you were drunk as shit, baby girl.” He patted your shoulder. “Ya know I ain’t ever gonna get tired of you, so get it out of your head.”

You hummed and closed your eyes against his chest, relishing in the steady beating of his heart. “I missed you so much, cutie pie.”

He smiled and rested his chin on your head, letting your hair tickle him a little. “Missed you more… How was everythin’ while I was gone?”

You huffed. “Oh, you know, the usual. Eugene’s been driving me nuts at the library, always asking for new things, and bringing new things in that I have to catalogue.”

“Those shithead teenagers givin’ you any trouble?”

You groaned, now thinking about the high school-aged kids you were teaching part time. Though you spent a great deal of your time in the library, you still taught, and you were still trying to get used to teaching much older kids for the first time. It was odd, since some of the children you were teaching in the beginning of your time in Alexandria were now in their teens, and you were teaching them again.

“I wish I was teaching kindergarten again,” you said. “Or just any of the elementary classes. Some of these kids have such a bad attitude, Daryl. What on Earth are we going to do if Robin turns out like that?”

He shook his head. “Robin? Our little girl?”

“Yeah,” you laughed and looked up at him. “What? It could happen. She could go through a… phase. She already goes through so many of them. Why can’t she have a rebellious phase?”

“‘Cause she’s just like you,” he said. “Miss goody two shoes. She ain’t gonna give no one trouble in ‘er life. Makes me worried about ‘er… She’s too nice.”

“Oh, you know how she can be, with those little temper tantrums she gets every once in a while… She gets that from you, you know.”

He pinched your shoulder, to which you laughed.

“We’ll see,” he said. “Her momma’s an angel but she’s tough, too.” He ran his fingers through your hair, analyzing each strand and its highlights as they shimmered in the pale moonlight streaming through the window. “Robin grows up to be just like ‘er, I’ll be proud.”

You laughed and raised your hand from under the covers to scratch his chin in appreciation of his comment. He closed his eyes and raised his chin, grunting a little in pleasure.

“She was so worried about you,” you said. “You know, Judith told her about the walkers… She thought you’d get eaten by one while you were out there.”

He opened his eyes and looked distraught. “So much for keepin’ that from ‘er til she got older. Maybe it’s for the best, she should know, keep ‘er from wantin’ to go out there.”

“Daryl,” you said, “you know you can’t keep her in here forever. Judith is only nine and she’s already going out there. Soon it might be time to start taking Robin out, too. It scares me, and I want her to stay here forever, too, but it can’t be like that.”

He shook his head. “Nah, she’s not ready. Maybe she won’t even need to leave, she’ll have everything’ here for ‘er whole life. That’s what I’m tryin’ to do, for you, too.”

You smiled at him sweetly, and caressed his cheek with the back of your hand. “Oh, sweetheart,” you cooed. “You’re adorable.”

He grimaced at you. He knew his vision of Alexandria being a total safe haven for you and Robin was a long shot, and that sooner or later he’d have to let Robin leave home, but he wasn’t ready. He wouldn’t ever be ready. That was his little girl, and she meant the world to him. If he could keep her from ever seeing anything like he’d seen in his life, he would.

“I know she ain’t gonna be a baby forever,” he said. “But she’s always gonna be our baby.”

You nodded. “Of course she is. And when the time comes, she’ll learn, just like we did. She needs to be strong, Daryl. She is strong. She’ll figure it out, and we’ll help her. She’s got the best mentor, after all.” You poked his chest. “And the best daddy in the whole world.”

He rolled his eyes as you kissed his cheek with an exaggerated “mwah” sound. “Ain’t the best, jus’ tryin’ not to be the worst.”

“That makes you the best,” you said, and he let out a loud yawn. “Bedtime.” You patted his chest before rising to put your nightgown back on and opening the bedroom door.

He lowered himself into bed and waited for you to return, and when you did, he pulled you against his back so he was spooning you.

“Goodnight, hon,” you said quietly, stroking his forearm as he held you.

He leaned over you to kiss your lips. “‘Night, sweet girl.”

~

Thanks for reading! Likes, comments, and reblogs of any kind are always appreciated!

Series Masterlist Next Chapter ➳

~

✏ Taglist

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[xbunnybunz]

WEAK HERO UNIVERSITY (3/?) [READER X WEAK HERO]

Summary: I know you assholes are crying now that the first season of Weak Hero is over. But you’ve got other things to focus on, like where the fuck you’re going to live after getting kicked out of your old dorm. Luckily, you’ve found one last open room on the other side of Weak Hero University. What could possibly go wrong?

Genre: Romance, Humor, Slice of Life

Date: 7/12/2021

You’re dully unaware of how many people are allowed into a cramped dorm room before it becomes a fire hazard, but you are almost completely sure that the rule has now been broken.

Gray pushes through the mass of bodies wedging themselves between your bed and the desk, a damp, cold rag in his hands.

“Let me see.”

You grit your teeth and stare up at the ceiling, holding back the urge to toss yourself out the window. Of course this would happen, you don’t even know why you’re surprised! It was just your luck to completely obliterate your toe in front of cute guys you had just met.

You reach down towards your sock and then freeze, eyeing them wearily.

“Wait… You guys aren’t like, feet people… Right?”

Eugene furrowed his eyebrows and looked to everyone else. “What do you mean? We all have feet.”

Gerard made a face, or well—as much as a face as you can see, and you fluster, immediately regretting asking the question.

“Shit. Never mind. That was a stupid question, just pretend I didn’t say anything.” What? No one can blame you, too many years on deviantart would make anyone paranoid!

You hook your fingers onto the elastic of the sock and pull it off your right foot.

The moment your sock comes off, both Ben and Alex rattle your eardrums with a shriek. Alex covers his eyes and Ben dramatically falls onto his knees beside the bed.

“The whole thing is purple, Ben, you dumbass!” Alex cried, peeking out from between his fingers. “She’s going to need to amputate her toes!”

Ben clasped his hands together in front of you, bowing his head to the floor. “I’m so sorry! I’m terrible! I’ll take full responsibility! I’ll even give you my toes!”

“Uhm, you guys—” Eugene lifts a shaky finger but is interrupted by the earth-shattering slap Alex lands on the back of Ben’s head, eyes teary with emotion, “Dammit Ben, no one would want your big ugly goblin toes!”

Absolutely flabbergasted at their reactions, you flinch back, eyes wide as Ben clasped both his large hands over yours, bottom lip quivering.

“Please forgive me (Y/N)! You’re too pretty to be missing toes!”

What the fuck does that even mean?!

Mind working in overdrive and face burning hot, you swallow and try to stutter out an explanation, nearly going cross-eyed at the insane amount of pressure suddenly thrust upon you. Did Alex just give Ben brain damage? Did Ben just call you pretty? Were those two things related? What the hell was going on!?

Gray pulls a sobbing Ben off of you, lips pressed into a thin line.

“You two are freaking her out. You need to calm down.”

“But—!” Ben starts, voice trembling, “Her toes! I crushed her—!”

Gerard sighs, turning his face away from the scene, clearly too tall and cool and in need of a haircut to be suffering from secondhand embarrassment. “You guys… That’s just nail polish.”

Ben turns to Eugene for confirmation and Eugene rubs the back of head sheepishly, an awkward smile plastered on his face. “I tried to tell you guys.”

Alex approaches Grey, peeking over his shoulder and almost sounding a bit disappointed. “Wait, so… We don’t need to call an ambulance?”

Grey shakes his head, no. His pale hair catches the light and you suddenly notice how incredibly pretty he is. “It won’t be necessary. But we still might need to speak to the Hall Assistant…”

A slender hand reaches up and delicately turns your foot towards him, revealing a nasty reddish-purple bruise forming just under the ball of your feet.

The group behind Gray cringes back simultaneously.

Alex lets out a low whistle, clicking his tongue. “That one’s gonna be hard to walk on, (Y/N).”

Eugene sighs, eyebrows knitting together. “Yeah, last time I got something that bad, I needed to use a wheelchair for a week.”

“Dude, wasn’t the wheelchair because Teddy accidentally threw a coke bottle at your crotch?” Alex asks.

Eugene turns to him sharply, whispering something reminiscent of “girls” and “not now” while gesturing to you avidly.

“We’re going to need to get ice.” Grey says, ignoring the arguing in the back.

He lowers the damp rag onto your foot. You wince and flex all the muscles in your leg, trying not to contort your feet in pain. Lavender eyes meet yours and you begin to wonder if you had misjudged him for side eyeing your ziplock baggie of waterlogged notes. “How are you feeling?”

Well, to be honest you were feeling pretty damn good right now. You’ve never had so many attractive guys paying attention to you at once, even if it was because of a fucked-up foot. You, one. University? Zero!

Of course, you weren’t about to say this. Instead, you gulp, wiggling your toes just to make sure nothing was broken.

You turn to Grey with doeful eyes. “Well, everything is still connected. I think I’ll be able to walk, maybe with some… Extra support?”

He lifts the damp rag off your foot and contemplates a bit, placing a finger under his chin.

“Why don’t you try standing up?”

He moves to give you some space and you swing your legs off the bed, moving quite feebly to put on a show and hopefully getting the world’s hottest crutch out of it.

Unfortunately, you were so preoccupied with putting on an act that you forgot which foot was actually injured. You place all your weight onto one foot before you realize you’ve gone and fucked yourself and feel the shock of pain immediately.

Your knee gives out, sending you flailing like a circus monkey on a tricycle, except you weren’t a circus monkey on a tricycle because at least those were cute, you were just a clumsy buffoon with one foot, too lazy to pick up her own belongings and finally paying the price for it.

“Shit!”

You’re entirely prepared to just give up life and become a fully concussed vegetable at this point, but instead of the sweet embrace of death, you get the sweet embrace of a himbo instead. An arm catches you by the waist before you can hit the floor and pulls you back up to his chest, the scent of a woody cologne punching you in the face.

When you look up, you’re met with Ben’s gaze. His reddish brown hair and chocolate eyes are a lot more overwhelming up close, and it doesn’t help that you suddenly recall him calling you pretty while he snotted over your bed. You stiffen like a board.

“Uhm. Hey.” You say, definitely not awkwardly at all.

He flusters, tips of his ears turning red. He swallows thickly and his adams apple bobs up and down.

“Hey.”

He averts his eyes and looks anywhere but at you, doing what you think is an attempt at whistling nonchalantly. It was in no way nonchalant. In fact, you weren’t sure if he even knew how to whistle, he was kind of just blowing spit out of puckered lips. With both of you distracted, neither of you realize his grip was becoming slack with his inattentiveness.

“…Ben.” Grey warns, albeit softly, but alas, he’s too late and too damn quiet.

He drops you like it’s hot and everyone else watches in horror as your head connects like deadweight with the metal frame of the bed, a loud and resounding “CLING!” bouncing off the walls and reverberating in the room like a haunting testament to assured braincell loss.

Your vision swims and darkness begins to bleed into your periphery. The last thing you hear is Gerard’s voice echoing in your brain,

“Hey man, is that my shirt you’re using as a rag?”

[stitch-me-not]

Not Me ep9 spoilers:

Oh. My. God.

Ep9 had me jn a choke hold from the beginning and now I'm passed out and sobbing.

SO MUCH HAPPENED.

The tent. I didn't see that coming. I loved it. I'm just mentally there. Checking in with each other, asking consent, the intimacy of the small gestures (the hand holding, the soft touches).

And then after that ALL THE SMALL GESTURES. Sean x White were so beautiful here. I was hoping White would tell Sean and Sean was just waiting but alas.

(I'm also hoping White gets to tell him before Black does)

Yok just straight up strolling into a police station to ask his man out on a date. Iconic.

Dan meeting Yok's mother for the first time. Spectacular.

THEIR PROMISE SEALED WITH A KISS. UNMATCHED.

Gram and Eugene have somewhat confused me. Did the Gram x Black hope consume me? Ofc. But I literally did not feel this thing with Gram and Eugene coming until last ep, unless I just didn't see the signs, which is possible. I'm hoping this arch of theirs leads somewhere cause rn I have no idea where its going.

That reunion with Black was HEARTBREAKING. I don't know what I expected, and I knew from the stills it wasn't going to be a fairytale, but I did not expect Black to take his stuff from White and just put himself back together.

White just let him and now he's not quite Black and he's not quite himself.

The fact this episode suspicions were confirmed has me feeling sick. I don't want them to true. Dan confirms he is the one who shot Sean's dad. Tod is the one who attacked Black.

THE FEELS IN THIS EP BE GIVING ME WHIPLASH.

And twin's mum finally making an appearance? Oof. I really wanna know what she's got to say. Maybe White will go and meet her anyway.

And where is their dad??? He's far too quiet

And Namo. I want to give her all the hugs.

And no honestly, who watched them in the garage? Was it definitely Namo?

[zodiyack]

In Letters

Requested by @imaginesbymk​: Oh gosh hi! Could I request a imagine w/ Eugene Sledge falling in love with y/n and when he returns home he surprises them with flowers and asks y/n out on a date? Hope this was ok!

Pairing: Eugene Sledge x Female!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, mentions of war

Words: 1,795

Summary: (See Request)

Note: So I got a little carried away and I’m not too proud of the ending, but I tried my best and I hope you liked it :D

Taglist: @matth1w​, @redspaceace-writes​, @fandom-puff​, @darling-i-read-it​, @simonsbluee​, @sebastianstanslefteyebrow​

Masterlist | Joe Mazzello Masterlist

My dearest Gene,

The nights seem quiet, deafeningly so. The room feels lonesome without your presence. Although it pains me to admit it, it’s not just my chambers that are haunted with such sadness.

I feel goosebumps rise from my skin as I lie in bed, similar to the ones I’d get when you wrapped your arms around me. The hairs on my neck rise just as they did when you whispered in my ear each night, assuring me that nothing could hurt me, for you were there to fend off whatever creatures dwelled in the night. But alas, these are not from you this time. My body reacts in such ways to a frightening feeling, one I almost forgot having never felt it after the first night you snuck into my room, and the nights prior to your descent. With you away, I have no soldier to protect me whilst I rest.

My words, melancholy yet true, shan’t bring you down... I hope. Please do not assume wrongly of my intent; I am indeed very proud of you. So much so that I simply cannot help but worry.

What has my worries, you may ask?

Well, my soldier, it’s you. Whether this letter will actually find your soft hands at all, I know not, however, you told me to have hope, so I will. Before you set this parchment aside and go out to your tasks, I ask one last request.

Take your advice, and have hope. When the nights become too much, think not of the horrors, but of me, of this letter, of the nights back home wherein you protect me like you are now protecting us.

You’re so strong and brave. I find it mandatory that you know that and believe it, not just hear the words and brush it off as a compliment. Eugene Sledge, it is a fact. You hold others up as though you are Atlas and they are the world that you carry upon your shoulders. Even now, you carry a burden and you march forward nonetheless. It amazes me. Inspires me, truly.

To end this letter, I’m unsure. Do I make up some falsehood to fill you with delight? No, no, I cannot do such a thing to you, even if I wanted to. I can try all I want, but anytime a lie is formed on the tip of my tongue whenever I talk to you, it rolls backwards rather than out like I want it to.

What ever are you doing to me, Eugene Sledge?

Y/n

Darling Eugene,

You didn’t have to send me the necklace. You know that, right? Nonetheless... I have yet to take it off since I received it. It smells like you. Before the war. Your scent lulls me to sleep as though you are lying with me once more. I’m too overjoyed to remind myself of the reality. I hope you received my gift. And I hope it gives you the same affects yours does unto me.

I try to cling to the hope that you may return safe and unharmed. Any type of war is never easy, I know that, I really do, and I know you won’t be the same person you were when you left. However, you will always be my Gene. With that being said; I will never turn my back on you the way you wrote, the way you feared I would.

Lest you too lack of sleep more than before, I have included a gift of my own. See to it as...a gift to make things even. It’s only fair, seeing as you sent me an accessory you crafted. If you haven’t seen it yet- open it.

A locket can be seen as a feminine accessory, yes, but in truth, it’s attached to no sex. I do hope you like it. I’ve also debated on sending you one with a photo of us both, but settled on purchasing matching necklaces. One for you, which holds my photo, and one for me, which holds yours. Before you lecture me on spending money on you- I spent it for both my sake and yours.

I’ve read every book you gifted me throughout the years and still, you are not yet in my arms nor beside me in the study. I try to imagine, but it gets harder as time goes on. I miss you.

I hold strong aversion to the time it shall take for your return. Nothing pains me more than the suffering you must be going through, and the suffering I too am experiencing. Though my pain is less than yours, it is still great in its ability to affect me. Life without you is dull, meaningless, gut-wrenching and awfully depressing.

Have you made any friends? Other than “Peaches” and “Snafu”, whomever those men are. Perhaps you can introduce some of them to me when you’re home, I’d love to meet the men who kept you company. Any friend of yours is a friend of mine. (Peaches is quite an interesting name though. I mean no ill-will behind my curiosity, but...is “Peaches” his real name?)

In reference to my previous question; I myself haven’t made any new friends. To be completely honest, I rarely leave the house. Whenever I step foot outside...it feels...well...pardon my language, like I’m entering a shit show, stepping into hell itself. I’d rather be in hell than live in a world without you.

Think not of my prior comment. Merely bask in the positive parts of this letter. For me.

All my love,

Y/n

Eugene,

I heard you boys are coming home? I do hope the news is true. I fear I cannot face yet another disappointment, nor much longer without you. As time has gone by, nights spent without you beside me, days awfully bore...your face seems to fade as though it plots to abscond.

Funny. It’s seldom that I think of anything else, and it still rebuffs all my attempts to conjure your image into my brain. Whilst I have photographs to assist in my efforts, I can’t quite see your beauty in full, as though the photo is faceless. I miss your charming features and I loathe myself for having struggled to remember them now, even if it happened against my own wishes.

Albeit my words, which were truthful, I still see you in my dreams. Only, when I wake, your face abates until it’s lost in the nothingness, lightyears away from my grasp.

My sincerest apologies for the briefness of this letter and its majority of sorrowful content. I would write you a thousand joyous letters if only I had the strength to tell you falsities.

Awaiting your return,

Y/n

Each letter he received from her warmed his heart and never failed to put a smile on his face. Despite being in a literal warzone, joy never left his heart. The nights where he couldn’t sleep due to the things he had to see, the things his imagination conjured up, or just due to the lack of Y/n. It was the last one more often than not.

Snafu teased Sledge with each letter he managed to catch a glimpse of. Despite the man’s suggestive teasing, the two in question were only friends, inseparable since childhood. However, he wasn’t completely wrong with his jabs. Eugene felt his heart long for her like hers did him, but his longing wasn’t purely platonic. Since his teen years, he felt an almost magnetic-like pull towards her. Her letters only amplified the harshness of the tug on the invisible rope.

His hands shook as he wrote back to her, the first few lines seeming very unlike himself, but the rest so poetic and beautiful, even Snafu was speechless. The words were there, but they only really flowed onto the paper after he let go of control and wrote from the heart. Honest and sincere, he told her as much as he could.

The only thing he didn’t include ever, was a confession.

It took almost all of his strength to prevent himself from giving in to the urge of being lovesick-fool. But as her letters grew more desolate, as the war became more intense, as his time to write shortened...he couldn’t bring himself to confess. He couldn’t bring himself to push that onto her- a confession during the war, forcing her to live with his last letter being a question he could never fulfill.

...

He underestimated himself in so many ways.

The second he returned home, he bought flowers and rushed to find her, not even caring to make sure he looked his best. It was the first thing on his mind. Despite being ever so tired, his eyelids begging to drop for a little while longer, his feet sore beneath him- he powered through.

His fist rapped against the door, a quiet hiss leaving his mouth through his teeth at the feeling of his skin coming in contact with the hard wood. It creaked open, half of a face, an eye mostly, coming into view slowly before it widened and the door swung open.

“Gene!”

She surged forward, wrapping her arms around him as she leapt into his grasp. The two chuckled for a moment before her feet found the ground again and they stood in silence. Drinking each other in, all they could do was smile.

“Oh!” Eugene exclaimed once he’d returned to reality, holding out his hand to Y/n. “I uh- bought these for you.”

“Thank you.” She smiled sweetly, accepting the gift with teary eyes.

“But...not as a friend gift, really.”

“Well of course not, we’re best friends!”

“No, no... I mean it as a step above best friends. I mean them as a gift and a question.” Her brows furrowed and she tilted her head, visibly confused. “I know I just came home- I haven’t even changed my clothes for fucks sake, but I need to ask. I’ve wanted to ask for so long.”

Y/n’s eyes darted around, even more confused than before. “Ask what?”

Eugene cleared his throat, finally meeting her eyes; “Would you be interested in joining me for a meal...or, more specifically, a date? It doesn’t have to be today-”

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes.” Y/n bit her lower lip and giggled. “I would love to. Tonight, after you get some rest, I’ll meet you at your place.” Y/n placed a hand on Eugene’s cheek, smiling at him. Then, her lips replaced her hand. She turned and walked back inside, closing the door with a smile.

The soldier outside, who had faced and won two wars around the same time, stood outside, hand where Y/n’s lips were, and a matching smile upon his lips. He was undoubtedly glad he didn’t confess in letters.

[fletchphoenix]

On Top Of The World

Heya gamers - sorry for the late update, I’ve been a bit busy today but still wanted to write so, here’s Chapter 7 of the Varigo Coffee Shop AU! Once again, thank you for all your support! Now, onwards with the chapter!

Word Count - 3587

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Moonlight paved the way for them as they walked through the darkened streets of Corona, still holding each other’s hands. Varian’s infectious laughters rang out and disturbed the darkness of night as Hugo told yet another terrible joke. Hugo joined in the sympathy of laughter, giving his boyfriend’s hand a small squeeze and resting his head against the others. At least it was his day off - now he had all the time in the world to spend with the younger teen and, as he looked down at Varian, he swore he could see the whole universe in his eyes. A little sigh left his mouth, happiness forming butterflies in his stomach and bubbling there. 

  He knew he was thinking way too far ahead (after all, they’ve only been together for a day) but all he wanted to do was to keep Varian forever. He knew he’d never have enough of the boy and he could never have enough of the boy. He was unique in the best way possible - with his buckteeth that still retained even now, despite his insistence they’d go away by senior year when they were freshmen, his little nervous chuckle he’d give when he said a joke followed by a little snort, the small blue streak that sat so defined against the mass of black hair on his head and stuck out amongst the rest. Stunning, Hugo thought. Absolutely stunning. Hugo’s train of thought was derailed by Varian’s voice finally speaking up.

  “So, where are we going then?” Varian finally questioned, his eyes glancing up at the blonde with an excited smile on his face, “You’ve been awfully cryptic about this ‘date’ and usually you’re gushing about your ideas the whole time, so care to enlighten me to the madness of your mind?” Hugo’s breath hitched. Should he tell his boyfriend about his plans or should he keep it under wraps? One glance at Varian’s puppy dog eyes made the guilt well in his stomach and he decided, screw it, he’d have to tell the boy now. Goddamn that adorable face!!

  “So, you know how it’s Christmas time? And usually the park puts up all these pretty lights that seem way too excessive? I’m gonna take you there. We can talk or buy some food or just relax and cuddle while we look at the stars. Whatever you want to do.” Hugo said with a smile, looking down at his boyfriend who, by now, had a wide smile on his face. It was a sight for sore eyes, seeing the boy’s eyes light up and look at Hugo as though he’d put the stars in the sky. It looked perfect against his scarlet cheeks from the bitter breeze and December weather. Hugo decided, in that moment, that he wanted to be the one to put that look on his face each and every time it graced his features.

  “That sounds perfect Hugh. But first, I have to ask that we make a stop.” He requested, not even waiting for an answer for the other before moving in front of him to pull his boyfriend along. He tugged his arm and pulled him along the pitch black streets. Well, now it’s time for Varian to be mysterious about his plans, Hugo thought as he was tugged along by the boy of his dreams at 10pm at night. That was a sight he could get used to, the dark haired boy leading him to god knows where. No one else but them around.

  It was almost unbelievable, really. A guy like him really didn’t deserve Varian - what, with all the bad things he’d done in his life. It wasn’t fair that he was keeping Varian oblivious to everything he’d done in his past and was doing now, especially after he’d opened up to him only the night before, but...Varian didn’t deserve to be dragged into his mess. They were his mistakes to clean up and he’d do it by himself. Maybe one day he’d confess all his problems and mess ups to his boyfriend, but now wasn’t time. He couldn’t risk losing the boy. Not now, not ever. 

  “Okay, here we are!” Varian declared proudly, stopping in front of a building. It took Hugo a moment to adjust and steady himself before he realised where they were: the infamous coffee shop. The thing that had brought them together. A small smile tugged at the corners of Hugo’s lips as he was, once again, pulled around and into the warmth of the store. It ran through his body like a rush of pure ecstasy and a pleased groan left his lips. As he looked around, he found it was virtually empty, except for a raven haired woman and her unusually silver haired girlfriend sitting at a table. One who Varian immediately recognised and called out to, running over to her with his hand leaving Hugo’s. The older groaned at the lack of his boyfriend’s warmth, walking over towards the counter to order their drinks - a vanilla latte for Varian and a black coffee for him. 

  “Cass!” Varian called out when he ran over, pulling the older woman into an embrace and closing his eyes. He relished in the warmth of his friend - it being a stark contrast to his body temperature, which felt sub-zero. He’d missed her so much since the...awkward dinner from over a week ago. A little noise of shock left Cass’ lips as she was virtually caged in a tight embrace on par with Rapunzel’s death grip. Little chuckles escaped from the woman accompanying Cass, before it broke out into loud laughter. She threw her head back, almost falling out of the chair as she did so. “Oh, who’s this?” 

  “Varian, meet my girlfriend, Irene. Irene, this is Varian.” Cass explained, her hands gesturing to the pair, a wide smile on her face. Oh, so this was Irene! She seemed lovely, piercings littering her ears which were almost covered by her curly locks falling over them. Freckles were dotted all over her face and hands, where a small, rose gold ring sat on one of her fingers. It was beautiful - diamonds embedded into the design which was bent into an infinity shape. A rose winter coat covered most of her figure, jet black leggings covering and protecting her legs from the chill outside. On her feet were some matching boots - heels giving her a little bit of extra height. She was really beautiful, Varian thought, as the woman put her mocha down and held out her hand. 

  “Oh, you must be Rapunzel’s little brother. I’ve heard so much about you from Cass, Eugene and Rapunzel. It’s a pleasure to finally meet the infamous Varian Ruddiger!” she commented, a slight accent ringing through as she spoke that Varian couldn’t quite place. It was beautiful though - albeit a little unrecognisable. Still, he eagerly shook her hand, happy to finally meet the woman. 

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you too!” he declared, Hugo sauntering over and standing beside him. “Cass, Irene, this is my boyfriend, Hugo. And Hugo, this is Cassandra and her girlfriend, Irene.” he turned to face his boyfriend with a smile, pecking his lips and taking the vanilla latte from him with a hum of thanks. He sipped it and let the taste fill his mouth. Yep, he’d never get bored of that heavenly flavour, he’d associated it with Hugo by now. The taste of it brought back all their recent memories of dates and endless joy when around the boy. It brought a flush to his cheeks as he smiled and continued to take little sips.

  “Oh, the pleasure’s all yours.” Hugo commented with a grin, laughing at the push he’d received in return from his tiny boyfriend. “Ow! Jesus Christ, hairstripe, I’m holding a coffee!” he laughed and leaned against the boy contently. “Jokes aside, V never shuts up about you. My theory is he has a shrine dedicated to you somewhere with how much he loves you.” Hugo whispered, much to Varian’s annoyance as evident by the eye rolls and folded arms. 

  “Noted. So, how did you two meet then?” She asked, Varian willingly indulging her in the ‘dramatic love story of Varian and Hugo the star crossed lovers’, as Hugo had put it. A smile crept onto her face as she watched the two boys interact, her arm looping around her fiancée. He really had found his soulmate, hadn’t he? She kept her eyes on the boy as he rambled on and on about every little detail. She’d never seen Varian this happy in his life, Hugo attentively listening with a ghost of a smile curling on his lips. They both clearly loved each other, she decided, as Irene shuffled in closer to her and rested a hand on her shoulder. 

  It has been four years since she met Irene, three since she asked her to be her girlfriend and exactly one week, four hours and twenty-seven minutes since she had proposed to her. She loved her unconditionally - Irene being the one to support her after her breakdown and crime spree in Corona and helping to put her back on the right path. Irene was all she could’ve ever asked for in a partner: kind, loving, understanding of her past...she was simply divine in every single way. And from the way Hugo looked at Varian, she could tell that he felt the same way as she did when she met Irene - happy beyond compare. It was adorable in her eyes - from the way they had met to their dynamic and how they seemed to compliment each other. Where Varian was shy, Hugo was confident. Varian easily responded to Hugo’s sarcasm and (terrible) jokes. It was a sweet sight to behold.

  “As honoured as I am to have met you, me and Varian have a date to attend so..alas, we shall have to depart.” Hugo called out, dramatising every word with the back of his hand pressed against his forehead and his back pressed against Varian’s right arm. Varian just scoffed, shoving his boyfriend off his and shuffling out of the booth to stand. “Ow. A loving display from my beloved boyfriend. I can’t believe it!” Hugo gasped before standing beside Varian, reaching up to ruffle his hair happily. 

  Irene giggled, a welcome noise to Cass that just made her love the woman opposite her even more. “Aw, what a shame. You two are adorable and it was lovely to meet you!” she cheered happily, waving to them as they headed out of the store after saying their goodbyes. They sat in a comfortable silence before Irene spoke up, her eyes still gazing at the door. “He reminds me of you with the way he looks at Varian. It’s so full of love and affection...just like how you look at me.” She said, a smug grin on her face before taking her future wife’s scarred hand in hers and placing a gentle kiss against it. “It’s adorable. I think they’re cute.” 

  “I know they’re cute.” Cass responded as she pulled her closer. “We should invite them to the wedding, y’know. They’d make great guests.” She commented as she leant back against the cushions decorating the booth. “My god, these are so comfy...I love it.” with a satisfied sigh leaving her mouth as her girlfriend cuddled into her. She could get used to this..maybe she should invite the boys over for Christmas.

  After a few more minutes of walking, Hugo and Varian turned a corner and gasped in shock. Lights blazed like a thousand tiny suns from string lights in the park, hung from the trees along with small Christmas decorations placed onto the trees. Varian grasped his boyfriend’s hands as they walked through the gates to the park and admired the beauty of the decorations. 

  Snow began to fall from the sky as they walked hand in hand, Hugo pausing to remove his scarf and wrap it around his boyfriend’s neck in a kind gesture, Varian noting that it smelt like cinnamon and apple - similar to the smell of Rapunzel’s house in fall. He let out a contented sigh as he moved closer and closer to his boyfriend, neglecting to notice the snowflakes landing in his boyfriend’s hair and on the end of his slightly crooked nose. 

  They passed decorations of reindeer, sleighs and toy soldiers in awe, linked hands and ran through illuminated arches in fits of laughter before eventually settling down on a bench with a perfect view of the lake in the centre of the pond. A hand snaked round Varian’s waist and he leant into his touch, resting his head in the crook of Hugo’s neck placing kisses to it. “Thank you so much, Hugo. All of this..it’s just been perfect.” he paused before adding in a whisper, “I love you so much, Hugo.” 

  “I love you too, Varian.” he muttered as he pulled his boyfriend closer to him, gazing out at the lake with the other teen in his arms. He bit the inside of his chest, feeling his heart hammering against his ribcage as he took a small box out from his coat pocket. “Hey so..I know we haven’t been together long, but...Varian, I adore you. So I brought you this.” 

  He handed a rectangular blue box to the other boy, tied with a green ribbon. With an eyebrow raised, Varian untied the ribbon and raised the lid. He was met with the sight of a necklace. The necklace in question had a vial the size of half of his pinky attached, filled with a teal liquid. He slowly raised it to his eyes, shaking it gently and gasping in wonder as it began to glow, casting a luminous blue light over anything in a one metre radius. It was unlike anything he’d ever seen before. He cast a glance over to see his boyfriend’s nervous face.

  “You have no idea how long I had to research to make that liquid in the vial - I mean obviously I made the necklace myself, but I wanted to make it unique for my equally unique boyfriend. So...I added that luminous liquid into it! I..really hope you like this.” Hugo explained, rubbing the back of his neck and gripping the fabric of his coat tightly. “Please like it, please like it, please like it.” he silently pleaded as his eyes stayed fixed on his boyfriend, who was placing it around his neck with care. “So..what do you think?” he inquired.

  He was knocked back into the bench, Varian peppering a billion kisses over his face while Hugo laughed and tried to push him off. Their lips met in a passionate kiss, filled with nothing but love as the snow fell around them. It was perfect - a moment that felt like it could be in the movies as they, for that one perfect moment, imagined it was only them left and everything else had fallen away.

  The kiss eventually broke, Hugo squeezing his boyfriend’s hands with quite possibly the widest smile Varian had ever seen. “I should get you back, V. Just in case your dad tries to kill me if he finds out I snuck you out.” He uttered, rising to his feet and helping Varian stand too, his lips meeting his forehead. “You can keep the scarf too, by the way. It looks way better on you, love.”

  “Thanks.” Varian whispered as they strolled back through the park, one arm linked with Hugo’s and the other fiddling with the vial around his neck. Hugo had really gone through all of that effort to make him a necklace by hand. He could feel himself falling deeper and deeper in love with the boy every second he thought about it, and at this point, he didn’t even want to stop falling in love with the amazing man walking beside him. He was so kind to him all the time, despite the way he acted around other people, and he cared so much about Varian regardless of how much he’d deny it. He really was everything Varian had ever wanted..huh.

  Far too soon, they arrived back at Varian’s house. Standing on the drive, the boys silently said their goodbyes, placing kisses to each other’s lips with neither wanting to leave the other alone and be apart. Varian’s arms wrapped around Hugo’s neck and Hugo’s in turn around Varian’s, fleeting kisses becoming slow, deep and warm kisses after a few minutes while snow continued to rain down around them. 

  “V, I’ve gotta go, love. You’re making it hard for me to go-”

  “Well then, don’t go. Stay with me for tonight. My dad leaves before I wake up on a morning, so it's not as if he’ll be here tomorrow morning to see you’ve stayed. Just..please. I don’t want to be alone tonight.” Varian muttered, his hands trapping one of Hugo’s between them as he gazed up at him with desperation in his eyes. Hugo uttered a small string of curses under his breath, the offer truly tempting and, combined with the boy’s desperate expression, he finally gave in with a little nod. 

  The two climbed the lattice, opening the window and entering trying to be as silent as possible. As Hugo turned to close the window, Varian changed into pyjamas and lay down on his bed to silently watch his boyfriend remove his coat and shoes. He looked so breathtaking even when doing normal things, something Varian truly couldn’t comprehend as the other boy moved methodically, folding the jacket and resting it on the desk. As he turned, he smirked at his boyfriend, who’s face flushed red and looked away. “See something you like?” he muttered as he moved to lay beside the raven haired boy.

  “Maybe I do, what are you gonna do about it?” Varian challenged, letting Hugo pull him back into a kiss - however this one felt different to the rest. It told Varian everything Hugo wanted him to know without saying anything at all, filled with unspoken lust and passion towards him. His cheeks flushed as he let the older boy take control, a small whimper-like moan leaving his throat as the kisses trailed further down to his neck. “Hugo. Hey. We should get some sleep.” he muttered, however his legs wrapping around the blonde’s waist told him what he truly wanted.

  “Alright, hummingbird.” the other whispered as he laid beside the younger boy, relenting and disregarding the lust bubbling in the bottom of his stomach. His arms wrapped around Varian’s waist, securing him in a tight hold as he nuzzled his face into his shoulder. “You’re so beautiful, love. So beautiful..” he muttered as he slowly drifted off to sleep. “Goodnight Varian, I love you..”

  “I love you too.” The other murmured as he lay awake in his boyfriend’s embrace, though sleep was finally starting to catch up with him. Everything was perfect - he had the best boy in the universe sleeping beside him, his family (bar his dad) loved him and everything was going swimmingly. Yet, he couldn’t help but feel a storm was brewing. Nonetheless, he pushed the feelings aside as he let sleep take him far, far away, his boyfriend’s embrace being the last thing he remembered.

  Quirin rubbed his face as he let out a groan. Disappointment was settling in as guilt twisted like a dagger in his chest. He hadn’t meant to be so harsh towards his son - he was just worried like any sane parent would be if their child just one day spontaneously didn’t show up to dinner with his brother and sister. He let out an exasperated sigh and began the trek upstairs, fully intending to apologise to Varian. 

  He knew it had been hard for his son - the divorce from his mother having its toll on the boy along with his coma and involvement for the saporians before he’d even turned eighteen. But Quirin was trying to relate to his son, to mend the wounds that had formed between them, but it was difficult as hell when his son only saw him as strict. He just wanted what was best for him - even if he didn’t get it across to him in the best way. He loved the boy with all his heart - that's why he’d completely redecorated the basement of the house as a makeshift lab for this year’s Christmas present, but they just had no common ground. He loved farming and the simple life, whereas his son loved alchemy and all things science. He was just like his mother, Quirin thought, with a soft chuckle leaving his throat. 

  He knocked the door to his son’s room gently, pushing it open a crack to see two boys in the single bed in the faint light provided by the hallway. The stranger, a tall, blonde boy, was laying on his back fast asleep with an arm round Varian, whose head was resting on his chest and snoring. A soft smile crept onto Quirin’s face as the pair slept, resorting to closing the door as silently as he could. 

  So this was the mystery boyfriend, Quirin thought, as he walked down the hall to his room with a smile on his face. The boy seemed nice enough, though there wasn’t much you could learn about someone while they were asleep. Nonetheless, he walked into his room and shut the door. He’d talk to Varian about it tomorrow, but for now he needed to get some sleep.

[blackswaneuroparedux]

Not to sound stupid but are you okay in Paris? Just watching the tragic fire that is burning down Notre Dame cathedral in Paris. We are left speechless at the scale of this horror as it unfolds. Our thoughts and prayers go to the people of France at this time. How are the French coping?

It’s very surreal to be in Paris this evening. I just got back home myself with my visiting sister. 
She is asleep as I soon will be after finishing writing up this post. But I have a dram of whisky to keep me company until then.

I was running late to have dinner at one of my favourite traditional restaurants in Saint-Germain area of Paris. My uncle and his French wife and my visiting sister were waiting for me there patiently. I didn’t understand at first why there were a throng of people in my way - I felt like a trapped salmon swimming the opposite way. They were bustling through the street leading to Notre Dame; I thought it odd because it’s a small street hidden away from the tourist trap area around Saint Germain. 


Only when I sat down at the table to make my apologies to my family did the waitress and other small number of diners started to openly talk about something bad happening at Notre Dame. 


We stepped out and the small street was filling out of more people. It was surreal. It felt like there was some alien ship had landed nearby and people were going to see what was going on. It was only until one looked up into the clear Paris sky could one see the plumes of smoke and the first wisps of fire on the tower. 


It was a surreal sight. 


We stood there and watched open mouthed. In shock mostly. Around us were a mixture of Parisians, white, black, North African as well as foreign tourists of every nation it seemed. We all just stood there in shocked awe. 


We really didn’t get a great view as the police set up a cordon and everyone was pushed back. 


Many around me were in tears. Others took selfies and shared their disbelief with friends. Most watched in stunned silence. 


The thought had crossed people’s mind that perhaps it was a terrorist attack but that argument was quickly extinguished as clearly there was no explosion. 
All the signs pointed towards some disastrous and tragic accident. 


We left the scene and slowly walked to the Île Saint-Louis, the island in the middle of Paris next to the Île de Cite where Notre Dame stands on. We went back to my uncle’s apartment and had a stiff dram of whisky. We watched the French national news on television whilst also looking out of the apartment bay windows at the terrible sight of the roof and steeple reduced to an ashen shadow of itself.

My French aunt, a medieval historian by background, was inconsolable. She was in tears. Besides being a devout Catholic she has an infectious enthusiasm to point out historic things the rest of us would miss when we would often go for brisk winter walks after Sunday lunches, usually around Notre Dame. 


Here she was again but this time in inconsolable lamentation. Notre Dame de Paris was as she said the cradle of late medieval music. Much of the imagination of those involved in European, religion, culture and music is tied to this place she would never tire of pointing out. Late 12th and early 13th Century polyphonic repertory created at Notre Dame has provided an understanding of how musicians learned to capture rhythm in their notational systems. The innovative musicians Adam of St. Victor, Leonin, and Perotin were all connected to the cathedral in the 12th and 13th centuries. 


Although the building has been constantly reshaped over time, much of the architecture and sculpture dates back to the original building, which was completed in around a century beginning in the 1160s. 


It was much mutilated during both the Renaissance and the 18th century. It was desecrated during the French Revolution and by the early 19th century, the cathedral was was crumbling and half-ruined inside. 


The crowning of Napoleon as emperor followed by the success of Hugo’s novel focused attention on the building, prompting major restorations in the mid-19th century. Indeed it needed all the 19th century labours of Prosper Merimee, Victor Hugo, (Eugene) Viollet-le-Duc and (Jean-Baptiste) Lassus which allowed the Gothic art to be restored to its rightful place.

Notre-Dame de Paris is much loved by the millions of French people and foreigners who visit each year - yet they enter and go out again, I am sure, without quite understanding just what this cathedral is. 


Yes, it is the cathedral of French cathedrals, with one of the longest and richest of histories: the site of royal weddings, the consecration of Napoleon Bonaparte as emperor and the beatification of Joan of Arc. It is also where the public celebrates the lives of the great and good.

It was at Notre Dame in 1431 that Henry VI, king of England, was crowned king of France, and James V, king of Scotland, married Madeleine of France in 1537. Requiem masses were held there for presidents Charles de Gaulle and François Mitterrand.

But Notre Dame to be honest has been more revered by foreign visitors than the locals. This is not out of contempt for religion or for anything traditional. But more because of the over familiarity of having it permanently there that you forget that it is actually there. 


It’s a sin we all make with the places we live near to and even forgetting the traditions that underpin them. We just take them for granted and lazily neglect their importance of what they symbolise or represent. 


To many Parisians, the 850-year-old landmark is quite simply the heart of their city, its two Gothic square towers rising above surrounding buildings along the river Seine. But many forget - including many Parisians - too that Notre dame is the main spot from which all distances to other cities from the French capital are measured. 


And for good reason because Notre Dame Cathedral - commissioned by King Louis VII - was to be a symbol of Paris’ political, economic, intellectual and cultural power at home and around the world. The city had emerged as the centre of power in France and needed a religious monument to match its new temporal and spiritual status. In other words how much the religious life and proud traditions centred the life of a nation. But alas no more. Just as the political centre has been swept away in secularist revolution and reforms from the 18th Century onwards, so has the place of religion and tradition been blown on the winds of change. 


My suspicions are that Parisians will mourn the damage and the loss of Notre Dame but not necessarily feel the weight of the religious loss - outside of the Catholic faithful within France - in equal measure. This is the real loss. The church - whatever one may think of it - without question helped shape the idea of a French kingdom from the 13th Century onwards. So even though France has been a democratic secular state since the French Revolution, many French understand the cultural importance of Notre Dame as symbol intimately tied to the development of the idea of a French nation. As Victor Hugo put it, “La cathédrale était un lieu de refuge. Toute justice humaine expirait sur le seuil.”

My hope is out of the ashes of tragedy a spiritual as well as a cultural renewal might awaken France to respecting its roots and honour traditions that brought them greatness. As my French aunt reminded us this evening that Notre Dame was deliberately designed to inspire awe and to pull your gaze upwards, to think about things transcendent, whether it was God or the Catholic version of Christianity or the transcendent power of human engineering and ingenuity.

We need to restore Notre Dame not just to its former physical glory but to its cultural importance to help all of us to rise above pettiness of politics and think upon the transcendent values of faith and ingenuity. Victor Hugo thought of Notre Dame as a work of art authored by humanity itself, with no individual artist. It surpasses anything an individual can do and therefore becomes the best of what all of us can do.

The question that I ask myself from time to time is that how can we call ourselves culturally advanced Europeans when we lack the imagination and the ingenuity to even dream of building structures worthy of outliving us?

These are questions for another day….

Nil desperandum!

[eatingtherich]

A Colossal Wreck

I’ve been reading through Alexander Cockburn’s A Colossal Wreck. As far as pleasure and style go, it is a great book. A concise and humorous perspective on exactly what the book presents itself to be, the American political landscape from the mid 90′s up to Cockburn’s death in 2012. The book is actually just a collection of dated journal, and very on topic; though most are his personal observations of current events, he sometimes veers into other topics such as Thanksgiving turkey recipes or the etymology of the word “troglodytes.” A staunch leftist and populist, much of the book directs its ire at the complacency of liberals in America behind the Clintons and their imperialistic goals and corporate persuasion, and the entire fault of any left movement in the U.S. There a number of places where I greatly agree with Cockburn, but then some moments where his perspectives are befuddling to say the least, and some that seen from today in Trump-America, are very odd to hear coming from such a vocal leftist. In the coming days I’ll share some passages that have most stood out to me. 

First I am going to post Cockburn’s passages on Bernie Sanders, for whom Alexander Cockburn was particularly skeptical of, as self-proclaimed Independent Socialist Democrat, but from Cockburn’s perspective was woefully complacent with Clinton’s agenda. I will say, I like Sanders, and he is still currently my preferred Presidential Candidate for the 2020 election, but critiques Cockburn raises are valid and worth looking into. Just as well, I disagree with Cockburn on some issues he raises in his book, but by and large, enjoy his writing and can’t let his faults eclipse his successes. Most of his criticisms levied against Bernie are his condoning of the wars in Serbia and Kosovo.  All quotes below come from A Colossal Wreck, by Bruce Cockburn, 2014, Verso.

August 7, 1996

A Democratic President has just destroyed a big chunk of the New Deal and not one major Democratic figure has defected because this President destroyed the tiny protections for those down on their luck, for children, for single mothers, for immigrants between jobs who have been paying taxes for maybe ten or twenty years. Donna Shalala didn't quit. Robert Reich didn't quit. Peter Edelman of HHS did [sic] quit. Marion Wright Edelman canceled a demonstration before Clinton's decision "because I didn't want want to be Sister Souljah," then issued a bitter statement, but she didn't say she was shifting her support to Ralph Nader. Ron Dellums's office was saying that he understood Clinton's need to "hold the center." Barney Frank said that Clinton had done more for the poor than Ralph Nader. (There may be a personal edge there since Nader once said publically it was disgusting of Frank to run a homosexual prostitution ring out of his congressional office.) Here, for the third time in thirty years, we have a historic opportunity for the rallying of left forces beyond the Democratic Party. It happened in 1968 with Eugene McCarthy; and in 1984 and 1988 with Jesse Jackson. Now we have another chance. And who steps forward as our public champions? Bernie Sanders, the "independent" hot-air factory from Vermont, requests everyone to vote for Bill Clinton. The Labor Party, born in Cleveland a month ago, insisted that no labor candidates be fielded for the foreseeable future, and further stipulates that no labor-affiliate field independent candidates. Prominent Labor Party folk are simultaneously on the Democratic National Committee. Unions active in promoting the Labor Party have made a deal with the Democrats that the Labor Party will do nothing impertinent or subversive, such as actually run candidates against Democrats. From day one, with all that nonsense about doing nothing till 100,000 advocates are signed up, the entire Labor Party effort has been an exercise in demobilization, achieving the miracle of a Third Party that is the wholly owned subsidiary of the party it is challenging. This leaves us with Ralph Nader, who has the public status, the knowledge and the right political instincts.

October 16, 1998

...As for B. Sanders, whose fund-raising letters this election time have once again been touting Congress’s only “independent progressive socialist,” his latest achievement has been to give the cold shoulder to delegations traveling all the way from Texas to Vermont to challenge the Conscience Complex in one of its most self-satisfied redoubts.

Sanders has been prominent among those in the North East congressional delegation on trying to export the region’s nuclear waste to a poor, largely Hispanic community in Texas, Sierra Blanca. The only merit in dumping the waste there as opposed to, say, Burlington, is that the people in Burlington are richer and have more clout. When the Sierra Blancans turned up in Vermont, Sanders put out the word that he would quit any platform graced by any of their members. If you truly like “independents” in Congress, better by far to send your money to Ron Paul, who acts upon his proclaimed beliefs, unlike Sanders.

March 31, 1999

It’s bracing to see the Germans taking part in NATO’s bombing. It lends moral tone to an operation to have the grandsons of the Third Reich willing, able and eager to drop high explosive again, in this instance on the Serbs. To add symmetry to the affair, the last time Serbs in Belgrade had high explosive dropped on them was in 1941 by the sons of the Third Reich. To bring even deeper symmetry, the German political party whose leader, Schroeder, ordered German participation in the bombing is that of the Social Democrats, whose great grandfathers enthusiastically voted credits to wage war in 1914, to the enormous disgust of Lenin, who never felt quite the same way about social democrats ever after. Whether in Germany or England or France, all social democratic parties in 1914 tossed aside previous pledges against war, thus helping produce the first great bloodletting of our century.

Today, with social democrats leading governments across Europe-Schroeder, Blair, Jospin, Prodi-all fall in behind Clinton. This is, largely, a war most earnestly supported by liberals and many so-called leftists. Bernie Sanders has voted Aye, and in London Vanessa Redgrave cheers on the NATO bombers. There’s been some patronizing talk here about the Serbs’ deep sense of “grievance” at the way history has treated them, with the implication that the Serbs are irrational in this regard. But it’s scarcely irrational to remember that Nazi Germany bombed Belgrade in World War II, or that Germany’s prime ally in the region, Croatia, ran a concentration camp a Jasenovac where tens of thousands of Serbs-along with Jews and gypsies-were liquidated. Nor is it irrational to recall that Germany in more recent years has been an unrelenting assailant of the former Yugoslav federation, encouraging Slovenia to secede and lending determined support to Croatia, in gratitude for which Croatia adopted, on independence in 1991, the German hymn, “Danke Deutschland.”

April 14, 2000

[The mention of Sanders comes late in the passage. On this date, Cockburn relates a story of how he was invited to speak at a conference held by Antiwar.com, a libertarian organization. The event coordinator, Justin Raimondo, extended his invitation to Cockburn on the grounds that this was an event in which the left and right could reach across the political divide to come together against war. Those listed in attendance: “Patrick J. Buchanan, Tom Fleming, Justin Raimondo, Kathy Kelly, Alan Bock, Rep. Ron Paul, and representatives of the Serbian Unity Congress.”]

...Their amiable hilarity at my sallies reminded me of Goldsmith’s lines in “The Deserted Village” about the pupils of the country schoolmaster: “Full well they laughed with counterfeited glee/ At all his jokes, and many a joke had he.” (How many people have read the whole of that wonderful poem, one of the most savage denunciations of free trade ever written?)

“Can we unite,” I asked the crowd, “on the anti-war platform? We have already, in the case of Kosovo for example. But where would you as libertarians want to get off the leftist bus? A leftist says ‘Capitalism leads to war. Capitalism needs war.’ But you libertarians are pro-capitalism, so you presumably have a view of capitalism as a system not inevitably producing or needing war. Lefties have always said capitalism has to maximize its profits and the only way you can maximize profits in the end is by imperial war, which was the old Lenin thesis...

“I think the old categories are gone. I see no virtue to them. I see Bernie Sanders listed as an Independent Socialist in the US Congress. I see what Bernie Sanders has supported, starting with the war in Kosovo. And then I see Ron Paul, on the other hand, writing stuff against war which could have been written by Tom Hayden in 1967.”

Driving back to Berkeley with $300 in cash in my pocket, I mentally toasted antiwar.com. Alas, not many leftists will ever want to have much to do with them.

[fatehascalled]

Soulmate AU - The color of their eyes.

Eugene was very much enjoying the fact that he could now walk around Corona freely, a fact that he took shameless advantage of. Not for thievery, oh no, those days were far behind him. No, he took advantage of the fact that he could make eye contact with everyone he came across to try and up his chances of meeting his soulmate. When he had first met Rapunzel and seen her hair, he had hoped against hope for her to be his soulmate but alas, she wasn’t. She was practically his platonic soulmate though, especially after all their adventures. Which led him back to this moment. Where he was having no luck at all in finding his soulmate.

“Eugene, look at that bakery! You should take a break from searching and eat something.” The previously mentioned blonde shook him. “And I’m sure that if you stop looking so hard, it’ll just come to you. That works with my painting, anyways.” Yes, her tower had been bizzare, what with there being no colors except for a rather large amount of yellow.

“Alright, Blondie, but you’re paying.” He ruffled her hair and dodged the playful hit she directed towards him. Opening the bakery door, he followed her in and stepped in line, looking at the atmosphere in interest. It actually looked nice, even with him only able to see the occasional splash of yellow around.

It was a slower day so they quickly made it to the front of the line, a short girl with a beret at the register. “Hello, and what would you like to order?” She asked, giving them a mild smile. “What do you recommend?” Rapunzel asked, inspecting the display cases. “These all look so good...”

“Well, I personally enjoy the coffee cake, but Nats been looking for people to try out her new recipe. You know that the princess was found again recently? She managed to make a dessert in honor of her, even without being able to see yellow!” The girl was bouncing up and down on her feet.

“Well, a dessert in honor of Blondie has got to taste good!” Eugene nudged her, causing her to try (and fail) to scowl at him.

“Wait, you’re the princess?” The girls’ eyes widened. “I’m so sorry! I’ll go tell Nat what you’re ordering, please sit down!” She gestured at a clean table and disappeared into the back.

“Eugene, you scared her!” She scolded him as they sat down at the table. “I’m supposed to get to know the population of the kingdom, not scare them off!”

“Hey, it’s not my fault! I didn’t know that she would be scared of you!” He made some finger fangs. “I guess you’re scarier than we thought, huh?”

After about 15 minutes, a new woman exited the kitchen area, carrying two plates. “Tch, can’t believe she sent me out, she’s the waitress...” Could be heard as she weaved through the tables to reach the princess and Eugene. “You guys ordered the sunflower, right?” She asked, eyeballing them.

“That’s us! Thank you, it looks delicious!” The pastry had a breaded base, with lemony jelly on top. The top top was more bread, but in the shape of Corona’s sun symbol.

“Enjoy. Call out when you’re finished.” With that she turned away and left, seemingly not one for small talk.

“Friendly place.” Eugene deadpanned, even as he enjoyed the fact that he could actually see the flavoring.

“Eugene!” Rapunzel scolded him, even as she picked up her fork.

“I didn’t say it was bad!” He sulked slightly and picked up his own fork. “Bon appetit.”

After their meal was over, Eugene went up to the counter to pay (Hey, he wasn’t rude enough to always stick Rapunzel with the bill. Only sometimes.). “So, what do I owe ya, Ms. Nat?” He leaned over the counter. The original counter girl hadn’t come back yet, so the baker was there instead.

“Well—” She started, looking up to make eye contact.

The world flooded with color. He could suddenly see all the colors he’d heard so much about for himself, and it was absolutely beautiful. It paled in comparison to his soulmate, though. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen in his life.

“Well,” Nat chuckled, recovering easily. “I think that being my soulmate gives you a 50% discount. And it’ll be free if you take me out on a date.” She leaned over the counter as well, hands supporting her head.

“It’s a deal.” He breathed, and turned to Rapunzel. “Hey, princess! I just met my soulmate; do you think you can make it back to the castle alright?”

She gasped in joy. “You found your soulmate?! That’s wonderful! I can go back alone. Have fun you guys!” Rapunzel exited the building after waving for nearly a minute.

“Ready for that date, madame?” He bowed and took her hand, kissing it.

Nat smiled. “Definately. Let me shut down the kitchen though, since I’m leaving early.” She pulled her hand away and left into the back again. Eugene leaned against the counter to wait.

The young girl from before walked up to him. “So you’re my big sisters soulmate?” She asked.

“If your sister is the baker, then yes I am.” He replied, amused.

She gave him a large smile. “Great!” Her face lost the smile and her tone became darker. “If you hurt her, no one will ever find your body.” With the message delivered, she gave him another look before walking away, almost tripping over a chair on the way.

“Did Kate give you a hard time?” Nat sounded amused. Eugene shook his head. “She tried, but I’ve heard worse. Are you ready, madame?” He offered his elbow.

“Hell yeah I’m ready, let’s go.” Nat took his hand and lead him out of the bakery, flipping the close sign before taking off.

‘I don’t know her well yet, but I can already tell that this’ll be an adventure.’ Eugene let her lead the way, content and satisfied that his lifes biggest dream had come true.

Written for @tangled-shit-postings ! She’s great guys, you should check her out!

[imekasf]

5 Things (+5)

Five Things I Am Obsessed With (plus 5 honorable mentions) that I think you should check out.

1. Television: Fleabag (BBC/Amazon) The hype is real. Series one of this show is very good, but series two is actually perfect. Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s writing, at times, literally took my breath away. There were moments that I out-loud sobbed for how brilliant her words were. And don’t even get me started on Hot Priest - sweet baby Jesus. (Incentive: Series two is the show’s last - making this very easy to binge in a weekend.)

Honorable mention: Schitt’s Creek (CBC/Netflix) You have to kind of push your way through the first season of this Canadian show (it’s not bad, per se, it’s just a bit rough compared to the subsequent four seasons) to really see what all the fuss is about. Daniel Levy is the heart and soul of this show - as writer, Executive Producer (with his on-screen and real-life dad, the legendary Eugene Levy) and star. Bonus: Catherine O’Hara is a goddamn gift, and her turn as family matriarch Moira Rose is perhaps her best role to date. Note: The upcoming sixth season will be the show’s last.

2. Music: Juice, Lizzo If you are not on the Lizzo train yet, I don’t even know what to say to you right now. This song is a mother f-ing JAM. While you’re here, please enjoy this clip of Lizzo playing the flute while twerking on a very confused-looking Jack Whitehall.

Honorable mention: Faraway Look, Yola This song is a throwback in the best way. Lush, melancholy, and absolutely stunning. Looking forward to more from Yola. What a gift.

3. Podcast: Conan O’Brien Needs a Friend, Earwolf Conan O’Brien is going through a bit of a career shift, it seems, as his late night show is down to only 30 minutes, while the majority of his content really resides online. If you haven’t yet seen his travel segments (Conan Without Borders is on Netflix, but much of the content is also on YouTube), I cannot recommend them enough. (Haiti is a particular highlight.) He recently started a podcast that allows him the opportunity to interview his show guests in a longer format (under the premise that he needs to make new friends). You can start from the beginning, or you can dive into one of my favorite episodes so far: Bob Newhart. 

Honorable mention: Friendly Fire, Maximum Fun Okay, this is going to sound weird, but I love this podcast that is just three dudes talking about war movies. Do I love war movies? No, not really. But this podcast is wildly entertaining, often funny, sometimes touching, and even a little informative. I found it because two of the hosts have another podcast I listen to called The Greatest Generation (NOT a war podcast - a Star Trek podcast). If this all seems wildly out of character for me, well, perhaps it is, but I highly encourage you to check this one out, if you are looking for a podcast that is not about all the ways in which the (offscreen) world is on fire. Start with one where they discuss a film you have seen - or if you want a rec, check out episode 59: Heaven and Earth.

4. Book: Less, Andrew Sean Greer I finally read this one while on a recent trip overseas and found it to be the perfect travel book. Beautifully written, this book about a gay man coming to terms with his age and legacy while traveling around the world is fantastic summer reading. I wanted to take a highlighter to some of the wonderful passages. (Alas, I was on an airplane sans highlighter, so did not deface the book).

Honorable mention: When the Emperor Was Divine, Julie Otsuka This short but powerful novel offers a unique look into the Japanese Internment Camps during WWII. An unfortunately timely book.

5. Film: Always Be My Maybe (Netflix) It is hard to articulate how totally fucking exciting it is to have faces that look like mine in mainstream American media. And while it is true that there is still no prominent Japanese American actor making waves, the idea that we have gone in just a few years from pretty egregious whitewashing to multiple Asian-led films is something to celebrate. Is this film cheesy and predictable? Yes. But it wouldn’t be a RomCom if it wasn’t those things. Ali Wong is phenomenal, and I am so, so happy that she is getting the due that she deserves. BONUS, the exteriors were (mostly) filmed on location in my hometown, San Francisco (the exterior Chinatown scenes were clearly filmed in Vancouver).

Honorable mention: The Last Black Man in San Francisco (In theaters) Speaking of films made in my hometown. This is a poignant and absolutely breathtaking film about family, and belonging in a city that is being rapidly and heartbreakingly gentrified. It also portrays San Francisco in all its unvarnished glory. Unlike the fairy tale version you get in most movies set here, including the above-mentioned Always Be My Maybe - this is a more familiar San Francisco that still manages to be stunningly beautiful.

[theleaderdotinfo-blog]

Euronics Darts League - 7 December 17 by Simone de Lacy has been published at http://www.theleader.info/2017/12/10/euronics-darts-league-7-december-17-simone-de-lacy/

New Post has been published on http://www.theleader.info/2017/12/10/euronics-darts-league-7-december-17-simone-de-lacy/

Euronics Darts League - 7 December 17 by Simone de Lacy

Junction Jaguars 1 11 El Capitan (2) Hub Hyenas (2) 11 1 Amigos Misfits Angels (2) 8 4 Hen’s Teeth Pint depot Queens 3 9 Junction Jackals (2) Tavern Oldies (2) 8 4 Porter House Bees Las Rosas (2) 9 3 Hub Hellraisers Ale House (2) 7 5 Wee Rockers

  Played Match points legs Hub Hyenas 9 18 85 Porter House 8 14 67 Junction Jackals 8 14 66 El Capitan 8 13 70 Las Rosas 9 13 67 Tavern Oldies 9 11 61 Angels 8 11 58 Ale House 9 10 50 Wee Rockers 8 6 40 Junction Jaguars 9 5 41 Hen's Teeth 9 3 37 Amigo's Misfits 8 3 31 Porter House Bees 8 2 33 Pint Depot Queens 8 2 27 Hub Hellraisers 8 1 19

180’s John Walker (El Capitan); Joe Miller (Hub Hyenas); Harvey Lane (Porter House Bees); Aroldas Klimonis (El Capitan), Eugene Gillespie (Tavern); Paul Durrant (Hyenas) Jeff Ward (Porter House); Andy Rutter (Junction Jackals); Angela Garside (Tavern Oldies) Highest Check-out: Jordan Johnson (Ale House) 141 (t20-t19-d12) Hub Hyenas v Amigos Misfits 11-1 Unbeaten Hyenas entertained Sonya Cooper's Amigos, both teams missing vital players. Current champions Hyenas comfortably took the first four legs via John Eyre twice converting d20, Del McCauley d9, and Alex Nikolov d2, before Amigos responded courtesy of Billy Naylor and Paul Chick, the former banging in 2x100 plus d9. Sadly. That was to be Amigos only victory of the evening, although 3 double 1's for the Hyenas in the singles suggests the score could well have been closer. Eyre's contribution of 3 game shots, plus a 140, earned the flu-ridden Hyena the man of match award for the home side, whist Naylor deservedly gained the visitors accolade.                                                        Report by Paul Durrant. Las Rosas v Hub Hellraisers A big thanks to the bunch of ladies that made the night one of the best fun games we had so far! It started with a win for las Rosas captain Carlos who was playing with Steph Simpson and John Spencer. Carlos checked out on 72 with John throwing in a few good scores including a 140. In retaliation, Hellraisers Sue Speirs, Lesley Dolling and captain Cheryl McGlynn clicky-clacked to the ockey in their stilettos to equalize the score with Cheryl checking out on d10.  Las Rosas took the 3rd triple to bring the score to 2-1. Onto the pairs and John and Lee Walters played Linda and Sarah who were very close to winning another point for the ladies but hopes were dashed when John check out d1. It was OK though as Joy Gormon and Lesley won their game against Alan ‘get orf’ Preston (140) and Fred. Carlos and Adrian Buitkhat were up last in the pairs and faced the formidable duo of Cheryl and Sue Speirs. Cheryl got 130 but Carlos replied with 100 and then checked out on 16 in what was a very good match. Half time score was 4-2 leaving the door slightly open for the ladies going into the singles. Alas in quick succession Adrian, Dave and Alan won their games with John nailing another 140 and checking out on d20. Captain Carlos played Sue Speirs, who played brilliantly.  She scored 100 only for Carlos to answer with a 121, but the pressure got to him and he could not finish his d1 and finally Sue won it!  Steph then won his game against Cheryl. (I count only 5 singles results here) but never the less the end score was 9-3 and was a good, fun night, thanks girls! Man of match Carlos Montes; Woman of match Sue Speirs     Report by Carlos Montes (with a little help from Simone) Junction Jaguars v El Capitan 1-11  ‘Didn’t we have a loverly time the day we played El Capo’s?’   Not that the score reflects it for us but as always, a lot of laughs with the chaps from the back of beyond.  Patty Poo declared it our worst performance ever with not a single 100 plus score from the Jags and only one leg going our way courtesy of Simone and Lelly Bears pairs efforts, Lelly checking out on d5.  The lads didn’t appear to be on top form either with only Aroldas (121, 140), Ed Klimonis (100, 129) and John Walker (121, 100, 100) achieving 3-figuire scores. But as they say, scores for show and doubles for dough and there was some fine finishing from Jim Storey and Den Hall but best of all was Ed Klimonis’ 3-darter t60-s19-bull for a 129 out.  The team were elated and then it dawned on them that Ed had just toppled John’s highest check-out to date of 128- which he had achieved twice this season.  How the Lithuanians laughed! But sorry Ed, your 129 was trumped by a 141 check-out from the Ale House on the same night! Special thanks to John walker for doing some chalking for us, he’s a lovely, lovely man.  Christmas Mixed Pairs competition Come on lads and lasses, we have extended deadline to Wednesday 13th December to get your entries in for the Christmas Mixed Pairs comp.  This is a new thing this year for a bit of fun whilst the league is inactive over the Christmas period.  We are holding it at Georgiou's (Blue Lagoon) who have offered their venue for our exclusive use on the night as well as laying on a buffet for us.  We have two free-standing boards and they already have one up (and could put up another) so there is plenty of room and equipment for the whole comp to be played on one night.  There are cash prizes for the winners and runners up and semi-finalists, courtesy of our sponsor, Paul Lock, The Locksmith.  There will be a themed raffle and a bit of Christmas music in the background to put us all into the festive mood.  Who knows, it may even be time to dig out your Christmas jumper and reindeer antlers, as there will be Secretary Sim’s prize for the best Christmas Outfit!  Lads, if there are a few of you out there that want to take part but couldn’t nab one of the league ladies to partner up with, worry not, we can have up to 32 pairs and ladies who have played in earlier rounds and have been knocked out, can pair up again with the bachelor boys. At just 2eu per person to enter, your names will be pulled out of the hat to fill in the remaining spaces. Please let us know if you intend to come along to watch or take part as we need to let Georgiou’s know the numbers to cater for. It’s going to be one hell of a night!

[benrleeusa]

[Eugene Volokh] Official acts, officious acts and bloody shoe tracks

(Here is the latest edition of the Institute for Justice’s weekly Short Circuit newsletter, written by John Ross.)

New on the podcast: the mark of the beast on campus, defamation on campus and due process on campus. Click here for iTunes.

New trial for former New York state senate majority leader and his son, says the 2nd Circuit. Could be they were corrupt, but the jury that convicted them in 2015 was given an overbroad definition of what “official acts” might fall afoul of the law. (In 2016, the Supreme Court vacated the conviction of former Virginia governor Bob McDonnell over said overbroad definition, a result that controls this case.)

After the housing market collapse, the feds brought 16 enforcement actions (in the Southern District of New York) against financial institutions that sold certain mortgage-backed securities to Freddie Mac and Fannie Mae and allegedly overstated their quality; 15 defendants settle, paying a total of $20 billion. Second Circuit: The 16th failed to disclose pertinent info to Fannie and Freddie, so the remaining defendant’s sale of mortgage-backed securities is reversed, and the $806 million purchase price must be paid back.

Federal law: States are allowed to remove convicted felons from their voting rolls. Plaintiff: That means states have to remove them. Third Circuit: Your argument “mangles the statute beyond recognition.”

University student accuses another student of sexual assault, which he denies. All evidence is hearsay. University: He’s suspended for a year. Sixth Circuit: He can go back to school while the case proceeds. He should have been able to cross-examine the accuser (by submitting questions to the disciplinary panel, which would ask them of the accuser if deemed relevant).

Illinois’s “full-slate requirement” bars the Libertarian Party from running candidate for county auditor without also fielding candidates for other positions on the ballot, including coroner and school superintendent. Seventh Circuit: The rule excessively burdens ballot access for “minor” political parties (“incentivizing [them] to manufacture frivolous candidacies as a means to an end”) and violates the First Amendment.

Campbell, Wis., police chief persuades town officials to ban private signs on overpass lest they distract drivers below. Annoyed with protesters continuing to protest there and for posting videos online of police removing them, the chief posts protester’s name and email to porn, gay dating websites. Seventh Circuit: The sign ban stands for the most part.

Man is convicted of murder and sentenced to death, although bloody shoe prints leading away from the body clearly are not his. Ninth Circuit: Prosecutors violated the Constitution when they suggested the shoe prints could have been left by a paramedic, while knowing full well they were already there when the police arrived.

Allegation: Sonoma County, Calif., police see 13-year-old walking away from them holding an AK-47 with the muzzle pointed down. They order him to drop the gun; an officer shoots him dead as he turns toward them. Turns out it was a toy gun. Ninth Circuit (over a dissent): No qualified immunity at this point; a trial is necessary.

Man believes he is having sex with 14-year-old in Cambodia, brings video of it to the United States. He’s caught. Man: Turns out I was mistaken about her age; she was an adult when the video was recorded. Ninth Circuit: Even if that’s so, you still attempted to bring child porn into the states. Conviction affirmed.

Judge has a moment of “revelation” and grants summary judgment on grounds not raised by the parties (without telling the parties the plan). The 10th Circuit reveals that he’s not allowed to do that.

“This is a tax case. Fear not, keep reading,” says the 11th Circuit, concluding that the Internal Revenue Service did not violate the Constitution by denying deduction claimed by gay man for in vitro fertilization as a medical expense.

Man kidnaps child from Bay Minette, Ala., day care after robbery attempt, is given two life sentences. (The child is unharmed.) Man: As the state concedes, my crime had nothing to do with sex. I shouldn’t be classified as a sex offender and forced into therapy. Eleventh Circuit: State law says kidnapping a minor is a sex offense, so tough.

And in en banc news, the D.C. Circuit will not reconsider its ruling that D.C.’s near-ban on guns, whereby carrying in public is prohibited unless the police chief perceives an individual has a good reason for it, violates the Second Amendment.

When Jack Roundtree pulled his food truck into Green Cove Springs, Fla., after Hurricane Irma, he intended to serve lunch to hungry residents with few other options and even give away his BBQ for free to utility workers. Sadly, officials shut him down because he had not first obtained a permit from city hall, which was shuttered. Ridiculous! But it’s also sadly common for cities to force mobile food vendors to jump through crazy hoops. In Baltimore, for instance, food trucks can lose their license if they park within 300 feet of a restaurant that sells the same type of food once too often. What counts as the same? It’s frustratingly open to interpretation. Fortunately, Baltimore food-truck owners are fighting back, and last week at trial they argued that the only reason for the rule is to protect restaurants from honest competition. Read more about the case here.