#WHAT ABOUT CARL ALLY

[doodle-do-wop]

Why do you think Ally just forget about grant and jonas after cmh (haha sorry maybe I was just bitter that like Cammie, I felt like when they appeared in UWS again, it was an alternate universe where zach had friends :D)

It was an alternate universe. Zach had to invent multidimensional travel to grab a new Grant and Jonas so he looked like he actually had friends besides the girls

I genuinely do not know and it could have to do with Cammie herself.

Like sure Camster isn't that thickheaded (okay just a lot but it protects her from the head trauma) but Cammie didn't really focus on Grant and Jonas mostly because she was busy dealing with spy-pigtail-puller Zachary Goode (he's such an annoyance I love him)

We only ever hear about Grant and Jonas in very small hiccups of information like idk Grant being hot and Liz talking about Jonas and Grant being hot and someone vaguely mentioning Jonas' name and Grant being hot (you get the point, he's a sexy lamp)

They might've had a bigger role in drafts but that would've also either taken away from Zammie or had a higher page count than what Ally was aiming for

There could've been a whole deleted scene of Cammie thinking she fell through the multiverse and crash landed on a planet where Rebecca Baxter didn't know how to talk to a boy or even a small Liz and Cammie scene where Liz admits to liking the new, feeling a little bit like a normal girl when in truth she's never been anywhere near normal, even before she became a Gallagher Girl but something just feeling off

We'll never know honestly why Grant and Jonas fell if the face of the earth or why there weren't scenes of them in OTGSY helping Zach and the CPS infiltrate Blackthrone or even just getting more of the boys just being traumatized boys and not knowing how to wear ties right or Grant hating sleeves or Jonas being unused to so many layers and sweating a ton.

[some-greatreward]

[x]

[cometcrystal]

dwampyverse orientation and gender headcanons

phineas - i don't know . in my defense i dont think he would be able to tell you either if you asked.

ferb - straight but in a way that makes people question him. maybe nonbinary and straight. he's gnc for sure.

isabella - bi. very vocal about this. has a patch on her sash for it. etc

baljeet -bi and an enormous chad when he gets older. has to fend people off by whacking a broom at them

buford - gay and and angry about it. now this doesn't mean that he wishes he was straight. he ACTUALLY wishes he was aro/ace so he didn't have to deal with any mushy romantic feelings at all

candace - straight trans girl. self explanatory

jeremy - bi and chill about it. a lot of his friends don't even know just because it's never come up

stacy - lesbian and suspected it for a while but she wanted to make SURE by dating boys first. hesitates to tell candace because candace will go overboard with enthusiastic support

vanessa - lesbian.... simple as

perry - canonically asexual and im fine with that decision. also transgender. he's narratively transgender.

doof - bisexual loser. nobody's doing it worse than him

monogram - cishet. is the most awkward ally in the world but he tries at least

carl - gay

linda - you know this bitch is cishet but shes WAY better at ally stuff than francis

lawrence - bi trans man

norm - he would try every letter of LGBT out to try and figure out which one he is and when he's done he just says "I'm Norm!"

irving - this kid is gay

milo - he'd just go with "queer" and call it a day

melissa - if you asked her what her orientation or gender was she'd ask if you were a cop

zack - bi loser (also poly with melissa and milo, since i didn't mention it up there)

sara - bi but she acts like a scene kid about it

diogee - he's a dog he doesn't really give a shit

dakota - gay.

cavendish - gay.

bradley - gay but one of those really annoying ones

amanda - bi trans girl. she went through at least 7 different crises before she figured that out

gretel - nonbinary lesbian...i just know it in my soul. halfway influenced by meli povenmire

kevin - loser bisexual. absolutely no rizz with any gender

fred - i KNOW they're a nonbinary dyke i just KNOW it. runs in the family. maybe kevin figures out he's one too. you never know

hiromi - cishet but she's cool

bailey - transbian 100% and dating gretel when they get older

hamster - it's the first ever gay rodent

[raspberryslxt]

Carl Grimes x Negan’s daughter!reader

-

warnings:none

-

The world had become a desolate wasteland, overrun by the undead and ruled by fear. Amidst the chaos, Carl Grimes found himself face to face with an unexpected ally – y/n, the daughter of the notorious Negan.

Carl cautiously approached the abandoned warehouse, his senses on high alert. He had heard rumors of survivors in the area, but he never expected to encounter Negan's daughter.

Y/n emerged from the shadows, her presence commanding attention as she leveled a gaze at Carl. "What do you want?" she demanded, her voice tinged with suspicion.

Carl raised his hands in a gesture of peace, his eyes scanning the area for any signs of danger. "I'm just looking for supplies," he replied, keeping his tone neutral. "I mean no harm."

Y/n studied Carl for a moment, her expression unreadable. "Fine," she finally said, stepping aside to let him pass. "But watch your back. This world is unforgiving."

As they ventured deeper into the warehouse, Carl and y/n exchanged cautious glances, their guard never faltering. Despite the tension between them, Carl couldn't help but admire y/n resilience in the face of adversity.

"Your father... Negan," Carl began tentatively, breaking the uneasy silence. "What's he like?"

Y/n’s jaw tightened at the mention of her father, a shadow passing over her features. "He's... complicated," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "But he's not all bad."

„He killed my friends,” the bot said. Y/n looked at him with a „really dude” look.

Carl nodded, understanding the complexities of family loyalty all too well. "I get it," he said softly. "We all have people we care about, even if they've done things we don't agree with."

As they scoured the warehouse for supplies, Carl and y/n found themselves opening up to each other in ways they never expected. They shared stories of their pasts, their hopes and fears laid bare in the harsh light of reality.

Hours turned into days, and Carl and y/n formed an unlikely bond as they navigated the dangers of the wasteland together. They fought off hordes of walkers, braved the elements, and relied on each other for survival in a world where trust was a rare commodity.

But their newfound partnership was put to the test when a group of hostile survivors threatened their sanctuary. Carl and y/n stood side by side, their weapons drawn as they prepared to defend their makeshift home.

"We can't let them win," y/n said, her voice steely with determination.

Carl nodded, his gaze unwavering as he met y/n’s eyes. "We won't," he vowed, a sense of urgency coursing through his veins.

As the enemy closed in, Carl and Y/n fought with a fierce intensity, their movements synchronized as they battled against overwhelming odds. In the heat of the moment, Carl found himself relying on y/n’s strength and agility, trusting her with his life in ways he never thought possible.

When the dust finally settled, Carl and y/n stood victorious, their chests heaving with exertion as they surveyed the aftermath of the battle. Despite the chaos and destruction surrounding them, they knew that as long as they had each other, they could face whatever challenges lay ahead.

Y/n turned to Carl, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Thanks," she said softly, her eyes betraying a vulnerability she rarely showed.

Carl returned her smile, a sense of warmth flooding his chest. "Anytime," he replied, his voice tinged with sincerity.

As they stood together in the fading light of the setting sun, Carl and y/n knew that they had found redemption in each other's company – two souls bound by the shadows of their pasts, yet united in their quest for a brighter future. And in a world consumed by darkness, that was enough to give them hope.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Matt Gertz at MMFA:

Vice President Kamala Harris will sit down for an interview with Fox News chief political anchor Bret Baier on Wednesday, reaching out to viewers of former President Donald Trump’s personal propaganda outlet in the closing weeks of the 2024 campaign. Baier’s role at Fox is to provide his network with a sheen of credibility by producing a program that largely resembles a traditional newscast. His program prioritizes stories which flatter the right’s biases and soft-pedals or ignores damaging revelations about Trump. But his presentation is sober, a contrast to the enraged grievance-mongering of the colleagues who follow him in the Fox rotation. As a result, Baier has received an unearned reputation for integrity from some journalists at mainstream outlets — and provoked occasional fits of anger from Trump, who prefers the sort of obsequious propaganda he has gotten from regular Fox interlocutors like Sean Hannity, Maria Bartiromo, and the late Lou Dobbs.

[...]

Baier urged network executives to keep Fox from calling states for Biden

While Baier would like to move past Fox’s history of lying to bolster Trump’s 2020 subversion campaign, the Fox anchor is personally implicated in shocking breeches of journalistic standards with obvious ramifications for the coming election. After Fox’s decision desk called Arizona for Joe Biden on election night — infuriating the Trump campaign and many Fox viewers — Baier urged network executives to overrule the decision desk in order to make amends. Baier emailed Fox President Jay Wallace on November 5, 2020, to say that the decision desk’s Arizona call was “hurting us” and should be rescinded. He texted Tucker Carlson, who worried that the network could lose its audience to right-wing rivals, the same day, writing, “I have pressed them to slow. And I think they will slow walk Nevada.” Fox did not retract its Arizona call, which was subsequently vindicated. But Wallace reportedly “overruled the Decision Desk team” soon after, “refusing to let them call Nevada for Biden even after other networks did.”

[...]

While his “news” side colleagues left Fox, Baier reupped his contract

Fox’s PR team used to regularly highlight Baier alongside longtime network stalwarts Shep Smith and Chris Wallace to claim that the network had a credible news division. It is telling that Baier is the only member of that troika still employed by the network following what his former colleagues describe as its yearslong transformation into a Trumpist propaganda outlet. After Smith abruptly resigned in 2019, he said “that his presence on Fox became untenable as opinion shows on the network spread falsehoods that hosts knew were lies.”  After Wallace left in 2021, he said it had become “unsustainable” to work at a network where people questioned who won the 2020 election and whether pro-Trump rioters storming the U.S. Capitol constituted an insurrection. They aren’t alone.  Stirewalt said after his 2021 firing that during the Trump years, Fox became “an arm of a political party.” In March 2018, Fox strategic analyst Ralph Peters told colleagues that he would not renew his contract because Fox had become “a mere propaganda machine for a destructive and ethically ruinous administration.” 

After longtime political correspondent Carl Cameron left in 2017, he explained that “over the years, the right-wing hosts drowned out straight journalism with partisan misinformation” and said the network’s stars were “allied” with Trump.

Bret Baier, the interviewer for Kamala Harris’s Fox interview tomorrow, has a long history of partisan right-wing behavior while masquerading as a “straight news” reporter.

[andiatas]

Prince Carl Philip & Princess Sofia launch game in Minecraft

After two years of hard work, the Prince Couple launches their own world in the computer game Minecraft. The game aims to encourage children to read and write, mainly children with dyslexia, but everyone can benefit from it.

- This gives me goosebumps, I think it's so cool, says Prince Carl Philip.

Photo: Ida Åkesson/SPA

With several big bangs and lots of confetti in the air, Prince Carl Philip and Princess Sofia launched a whole new world in Minecraft Education at the gaming company Mojang's headquarters. Dexi Ville is a game that will increase children's and young people's curiosity about words, letters and reading.

- I had somehow hoped this game had existed when I was your age. I needed something that had awakened my desire to read and my curiosity about words, says Prince Carl Philip from the stage and turns to a school class in the audience.

- Because it is not easy, and I think you know that too, to feel the desire to read when the letters jump around or that it takes a very long time to find the willingness and peace to start reading, says the prince.

Faced many prejudices about dyslexia

The prince says that he has encountered and had to deal with many of the misconceptions and prejudices that people have about dyslexia and what it means for individuals who have dyslexia.

The idea for the game was raised during a meeting at the Royal Palace. Dexi Ville is a development of the prince couple's foundation's method game, "The Big Adventure," which they worked on extensively a few years ago.

- We put so much energy and effort into that game, and it turned out to be a great initiative, but nobody found it. So it was obvious that we had to find someone we could ally with, someone who already has the children and the target group, says Kim Waller, secretary general at the Prince Couple's Foundation.

Photo: Ida Åkesson/SPA

Got to play with the kids

The latest PISA report shows that Swedish children's reading skills are declining sharply. Kim Waller emphasizes the importance of supplementing traditional teaching with more methods.

A while later, Prince Carl Philip and Princess Sofia get to test Dexi Ville together with some children. A block is broken, and Prince Carl Philip quickly builds a new wall. He sits concentrated in front of a computer screen and plays Minecraft.

- This is super fun, and you're super good at this, he says to a young guy who plays with him.

This is Dexi Ville

Name: Dexi Ville – the Wordcraft Adventure Target group: all children between the ages of 8 and 10. The game is currently available in Swedish and English. Developer: Prinsparets Stiftelse, together with Minecraft Education and Shapescape. Microsoft and Nordea are enabling partners. The purpose of the game: to promote increased reading habit, expanded vocabulary and reading fluency, increased curiosity and reading comprehension. Where to find the game: It is available to all Minecraft Education license holders.

Translation and editing for clarity done by me of an article by Jenny Alexandersson, Royal Reporter at Aftonbladet. The article was published on May 30, 2024.

[2346khith]

The night the black dragons found true fear (and the day Kabal's plan went into motion)

A man walks down the street until he gets approached by a group of arm men in an ally way. They had tattoos with a dagger being surrounded by two dragons on either side. Black Dragons. It's been a few years since they last made this city apart of their territory but since then they been quite busy, killing off politicians and extorting money off of the the innocent. They've been waging war with the police for years now neither side backing down but neither actually making any progress.That was until that one night. Every now and then a few goons will go out of their way to wander the streets looking for anybody to rob. Or kill. It didn't matter to them, only that they were having fun. That night a group of 15 of them were heavily drunk and wander around looking to pick a fight when they stumbled across that man.

Goon 1: Oi!! You there. They hell you doing out so late? Don't yah got a curfew.

The man didn't say anything.

Goon 2: Hey!! He talking to you yah bitch!! What are yah deaf?

Goon 3: Nah maybe he's some mute.

Goon 4: Hey tell yah what, you gives all yah got and maybe we won't kill you for this disrespect.

The man slowly turns around to show a rugged man with a stubbled beard, long silky black hair, eyes as blue as the sky with a long and deep looking scar on his right eye. Part Chinese, part Caucasian. His a lot more well physic than they expected having a bulky yet nimble build and a very tired yet feel to him.

The man: Look I had a long day. I had to take my sisters car to the shop in traffic, the grocery stores were crowded so I barely got anything and my niece has the flu. So I'll be the ones making the demand. Get out of the way and let me get home. And while you're at it quit your jobs so I don't have to run into you guys again. One of them scoffed.

Goon 5: Oooh look who thinks he all that!! Shame really you seem like a nice guy.

Goon 6: Not for me. I needed an excuse to break some bones.

The man: I see. Tell me though. Do you have any families? Anybody body to go home to.

Goon 7: What the... I'm mean Jeff got his dame back home. And Carl and Mark got a bunch of brats they always complain about.

He pointed to the three men, one looking afraid, one looking ashamed and one looking pissed.

The man sighed: Good to know.

Suddenly an Ice pillars appear hitting the three men launching them across the street. They're not dead though one of them might have a broken jaw but other wise there just unconscious.

Goon 6: What the...

But before he can complete what he was about to say he turned to see himself face to face at the man charging at him clearing the distance in record time. Behind him he held a giant great sword out of ice.

The man: Don't say I didn't give you the chance.

...

The next morning cops were everywhere at the site, staring agasp at the aftermath of carnage that was left behind. Bodies mutilated, torn from the waist, limbs stuffed and broken, eyes leek out of skulls with ice all around the area.

Cop 1: What the fu... how the hel... how is this possible?

Cop 2: Not sure... we tried interrogating the three survivors but they not sure what happen, extensive brain damage made it so they don't got any recollection of what happened that night.

Cop 1: Well what ever happened, I don't think it was an isolated event. We've been monitoring some members of interest for a while but they went mysteriously missing out of nowhere. Are undercover members only manage to get that they we're apparently on break but I don't believe it.

Cop 2: You think this has something to do with the disappearances?

Cop 1: Precisely. Wait what that.

The cop picks up a strange piece of meddle with a strange marking on it. It had an inverted triangle of it on top of a circle that had three circles cut out of it from where the point were.

Cop 2: Huh that kinda looks familia... wait that gives me an idea. I got some friends I can call up about this.

Cop 1: What do you mean frie... this is a private investiga...

Cop 2: Trust me I know what I'm doing.

Cop 1: Who the hell even are you?

Cop 2: Kurtis Stryker sir, NYPD finest.

Cop 1: Nyp... this isn't new y...

Kurtis: I transfered.

He walked away before the commanding officer could finish his sentence. On his way to his cruiser he began to text a number marked SF.

Kurtis: Sonya gonna love this. That or be extremely pissed.

...

Back at the Black Dragon based everyone is currently on edge hearing the news of of their own members being slaughtered by cattle. That is except for one member. The man was sitting at ,what was technically a personal bar for the Black Dragon, sipping on some cheap beer lost in thought. He had tannish skin, if you can see past all the burn marks, a messy mohawk wearing a respirator with multiple tubes tied to a pack. He was thinking about how much he hated here. How he wanted to get out of here. About how much he wanted to kill kano with his bare hands. How he wanted to go back to New York. To see Kurtis again. To be with him again. Just then another man sat at the bar. He was in a attire reminiscence of those a stereotypical cowboy, though more revealing and made out of leather, with a mask covering the lower half of his face. He grabs a glass and pours himself a glass of their good whiskey, chugging it down in one gulp.

Erron: Your taking the news pretty well.

Kabal: Nah just don't care that much. Didn't know the guys personally. You asked me they had it coming?

Erron: Oh I don't deny that they had it coming, I'm talking about the whole thing the ice in July. Surprised you ain't freaking out about it.

Kabal: I got super speed out of nowhere, you're an immortal cowboy, we got a guy who made of rocks who are bouncer and a cyborg for a boss. To be honest I stopped being surprised a long time ago.

Erron: Heh Fair. Still must be nice , a new challenge, somebody unexpected, somebody .... who might give you a helping hand at getting out.

Kabal eyes widen reaching for his hookswords before being stopped by Erron pointing a gun at his midsection.

Erron: I ain't going to give you know trouble.

Kabal: Says the guy point a gun at me.

Erron: Okay fair. But I want to help... in a sense.

Kabal: What do you mean...

Erron: Like I said things been boring around here lately, this could be pretty fun. And I'm just as sick of working under Kano as you are. So how bout after this drink we go searching a bit for that ice fellow.

Kabal: To get help or to pick a fight?

Erron: Why not both? So what do you say partner?

He raises a glass towards him. Kabal ponders for a bit, then sighs.

Kabal: Fine.

He clinks his bottle to Erron's.

Kabal: But if I get any sense your using me I'll rip your jaw and shove it down your throt.

Erron: Heh don't tempt me.

...

Also to just let you know I got the idea of Kabal and Erron leaving the Black dragon from @running-with-the-feels defection au. Please don't be mad at me.

...

Liang switches through the various channels on the tv until settling on a nature documentary on scorpions. He's never really used a tv before. I mean he watched stuff on a tv a while on missions and there was a monitor at the the Lin Kuei based but they just used that to play back missions. He stares at the screen thinking about his now that he's found his sister. It absolutely nothing like his old life in the Lin Kuei. I'm sure he would kill a few off black dragon members but that was of his own will now instead of the command of a grandmaster. Compared to that. Life been more tame, no harsh training, more opportunities for down, different experiences like zoos, and museums and other things. One hand it felt so wrong. He was a warrior, he shouldn't be contempt to live in such bliss. But on the other hand it felt right, like this was a life he should've had if it hadn't ben taken from him at such a young age. It like the he been finally handed something that belong to him but the something is holding him back from truly enjoying it. Just then a little girl with a stuffy nose and pjs clutching a blanket walks down the stairs and into the living room.

Frost: Morning Uncle Liang.

Liang: Morning Holly. (By the way Holly is the name I've given my version of frost) Shouldn't you be asleep still?

Frost: yeah but my stomach hurts too much.

Liang: Oh I'm sorry to hear that dear. Let me boil you some tea.

Frost: Ok. Can it at least have honey in it?

Liang: Let me check.

It's so alien to him. This domestic feeling, especially being an uncle. Even when he's been on missions he's never needed to be around children much less look out for one. Maybe things would have been different if he was raised by his mom. His... mom. Then he heres rthe fire alarm.

Liang: Oh shit the stove!!

He knock the kettle out of the way and and turning the stove completely off.

Liang: Ok, that was a close call.

Frost: Uhh... Uncle Liang...?

She points towards the kettle which had been severely dented.

Liang: Uhh... okay this maybe a weird question to ask a seven year old but do you know how to fix it this.

Frost: No but I think mom mentioned something about an antique shop down the road that fixes stuff.

Liang: Great your coming with me.

Frost:What why? Didn't say that I should be getting back to sleep.

Liang: You help me we'll get to watch your movie pick tonight.

They got dressed and headed out towards the old car that once belonged to his mother.

Frost: Hey uncle Liang. Me and mom always told you on how our lives were, why don't you tell us about your life.

Liang...Maybe some other time kay kiddo.

The entered the car and began to drove away. All while a man in yellow cloth and armor watches from the shadows with his pale white eyes.

...

And that was a scenario in my au but don't leave yet because I have something to share and a question for all of the three people who follow me.

If you haven't seen from my post a large some of Palestinian refugees have been messaging me asking for my help. Unfortunately I do not have either a bank account, a job or money to donate to so I've been just reblogging posts and asking people to donate to them or reblog the post themselves. However these post aren't very popular and thus don't get enough attention. I once thought I could just put a bunch of random tags underneath so it would reach more people but then I found out that would be consider as reaching so I stopped. So I'm proposing a solution to this. I would end up doing regular post about my interest, opinions, headcanons and aus but at the end of every post I would also advertise one or more of the people asking for donations and then ask people to either donate to those people or ask them to reblog their pin post to spread out the word. Now I've stated this before but I'm completely unexperienced towards the mechanic of tumblr and their policys so I do not know if this would go against anything. Hence why I'm asking all of you. Again I don't have the money available to help them so I need to find a different way.

Here are all the people who have asked me for donation. Please go to their blogs and donate if you can and if you're like me and you can't please reblog their pinned post to spread the word.

@familyetaf1234567

@hanehomed12345

@savesmahfamily

@yasermohammad

@maram-gaza @familygazaamal

@mohammedswierh2

@aboodalqedra-3

@mahaibrahim13

@hashemsamar

@aboodalqedra-2

@hamdialisstuff

@emily4pali

@alaakhaled00

@anasalshrofa

@mahmodjesy

@majedgh2

@noor678

@monashamali90

@ibrahimmo

@mohameddsaker

@ahmad-syam-blog

@abujaradfamilyfromgaza

@save-mohammed

@mahmoudayyad

@abdala1

@save-amal-family

@hala-blo

@joyfultidalwaveobject

@motazmohammed

@huda-yousef

@zainsami

@abood-gaza2

@majedalgherbawi

@ahmadkhalid9725

@haninahed

@shadowyavenuetaco

@rewaa08

@karamrafeek

@aya2mohammed

@hanangaza24

@hayanahed

@hanangaza

@mn-mohammed109

@mohamed-resh0

@maysaayahya85

@fadiafamily11

@samarsh11

@alaasyam

@save-belal-family

@savebelal-life

@nour1132

@transmutationisms

@savepalestineinfamily19

@hadeelandali

@d-lmthael

@abdallahfares

@basel1995s

@ahmedhells-blog

@yara-family

@ahmedomar3

@rawannail25

@kawla-family4

@dodiahmed123

@sondos220

@noorabd-1992

@aiamaher

@salman-1990

@tarneem-sami

@alaakhaled00

@ranensworld

@mahmoud-gaza

@hebamater492

@jomana-ha

@ronzaanqar

@ayoosh-gaza

@zainsami

@osama-family

@farahhh2

@mahmoidsy

@ahmedaldani

@maysaayahya85

@emanhajjaj86

@motaz352

@mohmad40

@mohmad77

@fattmawurd

@save-my-daughter

@yasminfamily

@mohamedmoneralanqar

@omar2002sblog

@ahmedsobeh2009

@nourasissue4

@rodainaayyad-11

@moomensblog

@areej1982

@ezzaldeens-blog

@abdallahblog0

@khalil92hilles

@samirafamily

@youseffamily

@mohammed-gaza

@soperfectionbasement

@superbperfectionwolf

@kareem-family2

@ahed-family2

@mashailmars

@ezzaldeens-blogdeens-blog

@yousefalyazjii1

@save-fatma-gaza3093

@tarneemsblog

@anas--basil

@ahmed-elhabil

@amanyayyad11

@walaafamily

@laana289

And if you have any ideas on how I can spread the word let me know. Also since this post is so long I'm not going to tag palestine stuff on it so I don't get flagged for reach or seen as offensive.

[civilotterneer]

Idk if this has been done before but...

If Echo characters had dnd classes what would you think they'd be?

I had! It was a reblog and was very type-casted.

Also note: I play Pathfinder currently which has a few more classes than 5th edition DND. I've included some equivalents.

Chase: Investigator. High passive perception but dumped charisma. Can see lots of things but is also too dumb to put it all together until it's too late. Alt: Witch with Sam as his patron and he casts hexes and madness-inducing enchantment magic. DND equivalent: Inquisitor rogue or archfey warlock.

Flynn: Swashbuckler. He would want to be the swarmy fighter who insults you, stabs you, then trips you, in that order. Optional: archetype into Gunslinger since he stays strapped. DND equivalent: Swashbuckler rogue or battlemaster fighter.

TJ: Cleric. This one's easy. Only difference is he's definitely got a high Dex and plays a race with extra movement speed so he's the fastest cleric around. Also plays passively, so he prob focuses on healing and buff spells since he wouldn't like hurting things.

Leo: Champion. Focuses on all the 'protect my friends' abilities, but actually mainly uses them on Chase's character. Optional: archetype into Gunslinger since he stays strapped. DND equivalent: ancients paladin with stuff like the shield blocking fighting style to reduce damage to an ally.

Carl: Ranger. It's s stretch, but ranger is the most superhero-like (a la tolkiens elf rangers) but also don't take up the spotlight. Also if any classes smoke weed, it'd be ranger or druid. Honorable mention: if he plays any caster and focuses on clouds and air magic. Alt: kineticist specialized in air abilities for flying and clouds. Honorable DND mention: spore druid.

Jenna: Rogue. A surprisingly outspoken and well moralled one. I know the least about her so this one's just a guess.

Other peeps:

Kudzu: monk with rogue archetype. Sneaky boi who can fight sounds about right. Definitely is the character who has to deal with the rest of the party's shenanigans.

Clint: Oracle. Cursed with forbidden knowledge trying to use it to save the future. Makes him look crazy but he's actually on to something. DND equivalent: cleric or warlock, both are roleplayed as their magic being a powerful curse.

[marco-polar-klepsky]

please rant abt eve. Please .

I know so many people have said this about Eve before, but what if the ever loving fuck is up with KC just not addressing Eve’s behavior

That specific update where Sly said that fen wasn’t actually bothered by it (just ignore literally every other arc up to arc 6) and played into the anger to make squeak happy was what made me want to actually get into the Sparklecrit community in the first place.

There are so many layers to my anger it’s unreal, simply starting with the retcon of Sly’s feelings about Eve’s teasing. It makes no sense to just suddenly change this right after Sky told Carl that Eve literally shoved her into a thornbush. Then there’s how shitty Eve’s teasing is in the first place with Sly’s hygiene. I also have difficulty keeping up with hygiene due to depression, dysphoria, sensory issues etc so Eve’s teasing always felt bad because I knew what it was like to be in Sly’s position. And just to add to my anger almost everyone treats Eve like she can do no wrong which is bullshit. It felt so weird how no one else saw how terrible Eve’s actions were, I felt like I had to like Eve despite her being genuinely unlikeable as a character.

I talked to my brother about it and just, the way Eve’s actions are just excused just doesn’t work when we know why Sly has such poor hygiene. If you tell me Sly has poor hygiene due to depression and dysphoria I’m going to think Eve making fun of fens hygiene is shitty even if she doesn’t know the full reason. I get Eve is KC’s self-insert and all but like squeak’s still an asshole, just because squeak’s your self-insert it doesn’t mean squeak’s actions should be ignored.

In general my least favorite characters in Cometcare have always been Ally and Eve, and the fact they never take accountability for their actions doesn’t help.

I have no clue if this is coherent but there is one thing I know for sure: I don’t wanna share a birthday with Eve please KC I already go through enough please just let a Ratfox have a break (and also the kin feels about Eve and Ally are more incoherent lmao)

[dahliarose2]

KINDRED SPIRITS - PART 7

summary: negan brings carl back to alexandria as he spreads his anarchy even further. rick and the group gather allies and meet king ezekiel. meanwhile, you deal with the frightful consequences of helping daryl and sherry escape before a certain confession from someone changes that

daryl dixon x reader

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6

Negan and Carl had arrived on their surprise trip to Alexandria, immediately heading straight to Rick's house where Olivia was watching Judith, Negan interrogating her over where Rick was as she insisted she didn't know. He had hassled Olivia until she was in eventual tears, making Carl give him a grand tour of the house. While Rick and many of the others were gone, he waited for Rick, voting to play house while Rick was away, playing darts, making spaghetti. Carl felt ill as he watched the man who killed people he cared about, sit down in his house, in his dad's chair at the table, and pretend everything was fine,

Soon after, Spencer called around to the house, seemingly offering a friendly drink and a chat, which made Carl stare on in confusion and anger at Spencer fraternizing with their enemy. Negan accepted of course, even playing a game of pool with him to hear what he had to say, as everyone watched. He listened to Spencer ramble on and on about how he should be put in charge of Alexandria, never really liking Rick all that much. "Rick is not the one you should be putting your trust in here. His ego is out of control. He isn't really much of a team player," Spencer revealed as he took his turn, Negan watching him closely,

"And you're proposing, let me guess," Negan starts, hitting one of the balls succesfully into one of the pockets on the table, "that I kill Rick and put you in charge." Spencer nodded, as Negan threw his head back a little, letting a loud laugh erupt from him. "See, the thing is Spencer, Ricky boy is out there scavenging for me to save everyone's sorry asses here. He is swallowing his hate and getting shit done. That takes guts," he spoke with a wide grin. Negan strolled nonchalantly towards Spencer, who was disappointed by not getting the response he wanted from Negan. His plan to manipulate Negan into killing Rick and doing the dirty work for him, had fallen flat,

"And then there's you. Waiting for Rick to be gone before you sneak up and ask me to do your dirty work for you. Why not just do the damn thing yourself. Kill Rick. Take over," he suggests, but the tone he's using is making Spencer and everyone else uneasy. He's smiling but his voice makes it evident he doesn't like to be manipulated, especially not into doing anyone's dirty work. Spencer began stuttering as he tried to deny wanting Rick dead, but it was too late for that. "You wanna know why I think you didn't do that?" Negan asked, clearly rhetorically, now in front of Spencer's face intimidatingly, "because I have a brilliant guess. You have. no. guts,"

Without warning, Negan drove his bat threw Spencer's stomach who stood there mouth agape. Multiple gasps could be heard as Negan only smiled wider, tugging Lucille to the right, as Spencer's guts began falling out freely from his frame, as he landed in a pile on the floor. "How embarrassing," Negan tutted, gazing down at Spencer's form, now covered in blood himself from dealing the blow. Everyone stood in shock, some people crying. Rosita's face twitched in anger as she stared in disbelief as Negan continued to taunt people. "Someone better get up here and clean this shit up. C'mon, finish the game," he ordered with a laugh, Rosita coming closer to her breaking point,

"I'm winning," he chanted, before Rosita had pulled the gun so quick, no one had noticed until it was too late and she had fired the bullet that Eugene had made her, as she panted angrily. "Shit," Negan yelled, louder than anyone had heard him yell, usually laid back in his wickedness, "what the shit?" He began waving Lucille around wildly, seeing the bullet that had gone clean through the bat, as Arat, one of the Saviors tackled Rosita to the floor. Negan stormed over, yelling in Rosita's face, whose only care was that she'd missed, not caring what would happen to her now. "Who made this?" Negan seethed, as Arat's knife moved to rest not so gently against Rosita's cheek,

"It was me," Rosita gritted out, but Negan immediately shook his head, clearly not believing her. "Nope. Now I think you're lying," he stated coolly, "Arat. Kill someone." She wasted no time, much to Rosita's loud protests who now had a long gash on her cheek from the dagger, pulling her gun out of her holster aiming straight at Olivia as she landed on the floor in a dead heap. Everyone gasped once again as they watched 2 of their people being killed in the same 5 minutes. Just as people began to sob, and stare blankly at the scene, Rick rounded the corner, a wounded Aaron in tow, courtesy of the Saviors, as he stared dumfounded at the situation that had unfolded,

"Rick, you're back," Negan fake cheered, as Rick stormed towards him, "I was just very lenient with your people here. You know, people have been having a hoot while you were out on your scavenge for me." Rick stared at him confused, as Negan pointed at Carl who was crouched beside Olivia on the porch, in shock. "Your little boy snuck into one of my trucks, killed a bunch of my men and I returned him home safely and even made him some dinner. Another one here wanted me to take you out for him and put him in charge. Did you a favor. And lastly, this one here tried to killed me, and shot Lucille, so I gave you one less mouth to feed," Negan explained loudly with a shit-eating grin as Rick reeled from the scene, looking between the bodies and Rosita kneeled on the floor, who looked furious,

Rick looked up at Carl angrily for his recklessness as he turned back to Negan, biting his tongue. "Your shit is at the gate. So just. go," Rick practically growled as he stood as intimidating as possible, in front of Negan who only laughed in his face. Negan ignored him, swinging Lucille in his gloved hand. "I mean, attempted murder by 2 Alexandrians in the same day. I must have 9 lives or something," he joked, as Rick stared at him confused. "What do you mean 2?" he asked gruffly. "Oh silly me, you wouldn't have known about the first one," Negan stated as if it wasn't obvious, throwing his palm to his forehead dramatically, acting as though he forgot, "my wife tried to drive a knife through my heart earlier today. Isn't that the most Shakespeare shit you've ever heard," Negan quipped with a booming laugh as Rick's confusion leaked from his face, making way for an angry expression, as he knew Negan was talking about you,

"But don't worry, we're sorting that out back at the Sanctuary. It was quite the fiasco this morning," he laughed, as Rosita's rage only grew as she heard him use you to taunt them even further, wishing she had asked Eugene to make 2 bullets, so she could have another go right now. Rick struggled to bite his tongue at the mention of you, hating that you were still being used as leverage against them, wondering if Daryl was okay too. "Now before I go, I want the guy or gal who made this bullet here," Negan demanded in a sing-song voice, twisting the bullet casing in his fingers as no sooner than he'd said it, Tara had stepped forward, refusing to let another person get murdered over it,

"It was me," she shouted fiercely, but Eugene interrupted her. "No it wasn't. It was me," he sobbed like that of a child. Once he began to explain how he made it through shaky cries, Negan listened intently, before walking away, harshly swinging the bat upward making everyone around him flinch. "Lucille give me strength," he whispered with his eyes closed, before turning back around to Rick who was practically emanating rage at what Negan had just done. "I'll be relieving you of your bullet maker Ricky boy. And everything you just scavenged? Not enough. You are on probation after this," Negan threatened, before waving his men down, one of them grabbing Eugene forcefully, "now let's move out. I'll see you next time. I'll tell Y/N and Daryl that you send your love,"

Rick held himself back, angry tears pooling in his eyes as he watched the Saviors leave. Little did Negan know, that was the last straw, and he had just incited a war. When Michonne returned from her mission of her own, she found Rick who hugged her close. "We have to fight back," Michonne whispered, as she ran her hands through his hair. "Yeah we do. I know that now," Rick confessed, sounding much less placid than before, done peace-keeping and bowing down to Negan and the Saviors. He vowed then and there that no matter how long it took, he was going to save you and Daryl, and he was kill every single last Savior for what they had done to his family, knowing where he needed to go now,

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

Maggie climbed the wooden ladder, stopping at the top of the lookout spot to see people walking towards the gates. She squinted for a moment, before her heart warmed as she rapidly descended the steps, running to the gate to see her people walking in. Rick immediately greeted her with a warm hug, before whispering something to her. She pulled away, not being able to hear him as she stared at him confusedly. "You were right the whole time. We have to fight back," he agreed with Maggie, who had been frustrated with their lack of rebellion and action. Maggie smiled at his words, before hugging Michonne as people had their reunions, Rosita and Sasha sharing a respectful nod towards one another,

"There's someone you should see," Maggie said a bit more serious now as Rick glanced at her bewildered as he followed her over to the double wooden doors next to the building leading to the basement. Jesus glanced at Rick and Maggie nervously as she nodded, he opened the doors as Rick tried to look in, walking down the steps. His eyes widened in shock as he saw Daryl, but he was equally shocked to see him tied to a chair, writhing around in his spot. Once Daryl, had spotted Rick, his thrashing stopped. "Rick?" he asked gruffly, as Rick couldn't come up with any words to say, dumbfounded, as he felt a few tears well in his eyes,

He looked back at Maggie giving her a look that told her to explain. "Jesus was with Carl when they hid in the truck. He only wanted to make a trail to the Sanctuary but Carl didn't jump out of the truck when he was supposed to. He was deadset on going to kill Negan. Jesus went looking for him and found Daryl on the way," Maggie explained, as Rick and Michonne listened, while Jesus stood a bit further back. "Tell 'em the rest," Daryl grunted out angrily. glaring right at Jesus, which Michonne noticed, looking at Jesus who stared down at the ground bashfully, looking almost fearful,

Maggie sighed, as if she didnt want to say the next part. "Daryl managed to get out, thinking Y/N was already out and wanted to go back in and save her. Jesus knocked Daryl out to get him back here. Y/N is still at the Sanctuary," Maggie said regretfully, as Rick's gaze alternated between a nervous Jesus in the corner and a furious Daryl. "He refused to stay here, insisting on going back, so this was the only way," she stated as she pointed to the ropes keeping him constricted. At the sight of Jesus, Daryl began to move around in the bindings once again, wanting to strangle him for what he did. Rick looked at Jesus who began to stutter,

"I-I didn't know what else to do. If we had've gone back in, we never would've made it out safely without being seen," Jesus reasoned as he held his hands up, not wanting to be blamed. "Then you should've left me there. You could've run off like the little coward you are. You lied and told me you had her safely in the car. And you can't keep me tied up in 'ere forever. So you better hope you're far away when I'm not anymore," Daryl seethed threateningly as Rick intervened. "Alright. That's enough," he raised his voice slightly, "Jesus just get out of here." He nodded hesitantly as he left the basement, feeling Daryl's menacing stare on him the entire time, making him feel uneasy,

"Daryl, I'm gonna untie you, but do not leave the Hilltop. Negan doesn't know yer gone yet. And when he finds out, when he gets back to the Sanctuary, he's gonna have his people out lookin' for you. You can't leave the Hilltop. The only way you're going to be able to help save Y/N, is if you're here, not locked back up in the Sanctuary," Rick persuaded sternly, seeing Daryl's face shift slightly, knowing Rick was right. Once his anger had dissipated into his usual, normal anger-like state, Rick moved to cut the ropes as Daryl stood up. "What's the plan?" Daryl asked immediately, "how're we gonna get her back?" Rick put his hand out towards Daryl. "We can't make a move just yet. We have to be smart about this," he argued, as Daryl began to get riled up again at everyone's lack of action on the subject,

"We will save her soon I promise you t-" Rick started to assure Daryl, placing his hand on his shoulder, but Daryl shrugged it off, Maggie and Michonne watching him pace a little now. "Nah you don't get it, do you?" Daryl yelled, getting up in Rick's face, "she's the one who got me out of there. She saved me. Because I was too useless to save her. And now, she's stuck there. You don't think he's gonna know it was her who helped me escape? You don't think he's gonna hurt ‘er for it?" He raved and ranted, as Rick went silent, looking down, knowing the last part was probably true. Daryl's heart broke in two, thinking of you being punished for his disappearance,

"You ain't got a clue, man. You don't know what it's like in there. How scared she was. How scared I was," as he pointed at Rick accusingly, who just listened, Michonne's eyes filling with tears at the thought of what you both had to go through, and what it would be like for you alone now. "If it were any one of you in there instead of her, and she was here? She'd be making a move now. She'd be- she'd. Hell she'd be doin' somethin'," he fumed as he rambled, the others just letting him, as his resolve started to crumble slowly, as much as he tried to keep it up. "So, we've gotta. We've gotta save her- we've gotta...," he trailed off as tears welled in his eyes, trying to push them down, turning his back to his friends, as he tried to hide his grief,

He felt guilty. He just wanted you here, safe. He flinched as he felt a hand on his shoulder, turning to see Rick, who used the grip on his shoulder to pull him in as he stood, not wanting to reciprocate the hug, not wanting to admit the pain he was feeling, still trying to convince himself that he didn't need comfort; that he didn't deserve it. He was safe back at Hilltop, and you were still imprisoned in the Sanctuary, and he was the one being hugged and comforted. He felt pathetic as Rick held him tighter, making his tears fall faster. "We're gonna find her. I promise you. We're gonna figure this out," Maggie promised from where she stood, and she meant it. Daryl knew that she meant it. After seeing what Negan had done to Glenn, Maggie would do anything to prevent Daryl going through the same pain if he decided to kill you in a fit of rage upon seeing Daryl's breakout,

Rick pulled away from the hug, as Michonne stood next to him, both offering Daryl sympathetic glances, Michonne's gaze having a bit more conviction, as she would be ready to fight for you whenever the time came. You were one of her good friends, and not only that, but you were good. You were a good person. And Michonne wasn't going to let another good person suffer at the hands of Negan. "Let's gather everyone. We'll start planning now," Rick suggested, as he offered Daryl a small smile, who wiped away the few tears that had managed to spill out, giving a forceful nod in his direction, as they all walked out of the basement, gathering the others for a meeting,

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

Gathered now in Gregory's office, chaos began to ensue at the hands of Gregory's cowardice and refusal to fight. "How many people can we spare? How many can fight?" Maggie asked sternly as she placed her hands on either side of the desk, looking at him at eye-level as he scoffed, leaning forward. "We?" he laughed, as the others began to grow angry. "We're gonna win," Rick forced, as Gregory rolled his eyes. "These are killers. We have farmers. They don't know how to fight," Gregory quipped, before Rosita piped up. "Give me a week," she promised, meaning it. "That was rhetorical," he corrected sassily,

"What happens out of my purview, stays out of my purview," he stated smugly, as Daryl jumped forward from his spot leaning against the wall, trying to walk towards him, as Rick stopped him forcefully with a hand to his chest. "You on our side or not?" Daryl yelled, not having time or patience for Gregory's dawdling. "I think I've made my stance pretty clear. You can go back to your little town now." Everyone rolled their eyes as Tara scoffed in disbelief, your group storming out of the room. "This is a joke," Tara complained. "We don't need him anyway," Daryl retorted as Enid rushed into the room, eyes darting to her in panic at her speed,

"Enid, what's wrong?" Maggie asked worried, but when she saw Enid's smile, she knew there was nothing wrong. She led the group outside, showing them the people who had gathered. "We want to help you fight Negan and the Saviors. Do you think we can win?" one of the women asked, as Rick nodded. "I know we can," he stated assuredly. Everyone smiled at the fact that they had more numbers now, as they started walking towards the front gate of Hilltop. "We're still going to need more people," Rick said as he walked, "we have to get back to Alexandria. If they come looking for Daryl, that's the first place they'll look and we need to be ready,"

"What if you didn't need to get back?" Jesus suggested, as Daryl still tried to contain his anger at the sight of him and everyone halted in their movements looking at him confused. "I think it's time to introduce you to Ezekiel and The Kingdom," he smiled as Rick looked at Michonne, unsure of who he was talking about. Within a few minutes, they had arrived at the Kingdom and were being questioned by two of the Kingdom's soldiers, as they requested an audience with King Ezekiel. "We're going to need your guns first," one of them said. "We only have two," Rick said honestly, handing them over. The two soldiers led them through the Kingdom, as they observed people chatting, gardening and running drills, training,

"Morgan?" Tara asks in disbelief, as a smile breaks out on her face, as she walks over to hug him, Rick smiling as he saw him, both of them reuniting. Morgan explained to a disappointed Daryl that he had brought Carol to get help here after a nasty run-in with the Saviors, but that she had gone on her way after that; a lie. Rick nodded as they made their way to see the King to convince him to join their fight. "Ezekiel, I bring like-minded friends from another settlement, Alexandria," Jesus greeted the King, doing a small respectful bow, as he turned to the others who were stood a bit away, cautiously eyeing the tiger that Jesus regretted to tell them about as he muttered an apology to them with a laugh,

"I welcome you all to the Kingdom, good travellers. What brings you here?" Ezekiel welcomes warmly as Ricks steps forward to plead his case. "King Ezekiel, Alexandria, The Hilltop and The Kingdom all have something in common; we're all controlled by the Saviors. We fought them once, and won. But we didn't know then that it was only an outpost. We know of your deal with the Saviors. So you know they rule through fear," Rick explained, but Ezekiel's face contorted with anger as he glared at Jesus who nervously spluttered. "I only told them of t-" but the King interrupted him. "We told you of our deal in confidence. Why did you break it?" he asked accusingly in annoyance,

"I want you to hear Rick's plans," Jesus reasoned. "And what plans have you, Rick Grimes?" Ezekiel asked, willing to hear him out. Rick looked around as the others nodded, turning back to the King. "We want you to help us fight the Saviors, to get freedom for all of us," Rick stated matter-of-factly as Ezekiel looked with worry and skepticism. "What you're asking is very serious," Ezekiel replied, as he seemed to contemplate Rick's offer. "Our people, good people, were murdered brutally by the Saviors," Michonne said sadly, as she walked to stand beside Rick, holding his hand in support,

Morgan's face hardened, as he looked over to Rick and Michonne curiously. "Who?" he inquired, as Rosita spoke up. "Glenn, Abraham, Spencer, Olivia. They kidnapped Eugene. They took Daryl and Y/N, he managed to escape, she's still being held at the Sanctuary," Rosita listed with a touch of spite, "you going to tell us you were right?" Morgan stared at Rosita in disbelief, immediately shaking his head feverishly. "No. I would never. I'm just real sorry they're gone," he said sadly, as Daryl began to pace nervously upon hearing your name, being constantly reminded of the fact that you were still in trouble. And every second the group spent here, was a second lost in getting you back home safe,

Ezekiel sat with a quizzical brow, taking in what everyone was saying slowly, as Sasha explained what they'd done to Glenn and Abraham. "We have strong people, but not enough people," Rick confessed, as Richard, Ezekiel's right-hand man looked between the group and his King. "We have people, and weapons. If we strike first, together, we can do it, Your Majesty," he pleaded, seeing the urgency of the situation. "You have given the King much to ponder, I shall give you my decree in the morn," King Ezekiel announces, as he stood. Rick nodded appreciatively, hoping he would accept their offer,

The morning after, King Ezekiel told the group that he couldn't offer his soldiers or his help, but could offer Daryl asylum, leaving the group angered and dismayed, Daryl more so than anyone. "You call yourself a King, but you sure as hell don't act like one. You not hear what we just told you? About our people? About Glenn and Abraham? About Y/N?" he yelled as Ezekiel looked down, shaking his head. "I can't risk my people's lives," Ezekiel argued, as the group walked off towards the front gate as they grumbled. "I ain't stayin' here," Daryl grunted, as Rick moved to put his hand on his shoulder,

"You have to. We can't have Negan finding you. If you're here, you can try convince Ezekiel," Rick urged, as Daryl fumed, but didn't argue. "We'll be back soon. I promise," Rick assured, as Daryl didn't reply, watching as the doors closed, his group now out of his view,

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On their way back, Rick and the others had come across a trap that the Saviors had set for a herd of walkers. It only took one glance between Rosita and Rick, for them both to know that they needed these explosives and they could be a real advantage to them. While Rosita got to work, trying to disarm the trap, a message came through on the long-distance radio that Jesus held belonging to the Saviors, as Negan's voice boomed on the other end, unaware that the Alexandrians were listening on the other end. "Simon, get your ass to Alexandria. Tear that place apart until you find Daryl," he demanded as the group looked at one another. Rosita stood up, having successfully stopped the explosives from going off and dismantling the bomb, explaining to the rest of the group what to do and how to do it. "We need to unwrap these explosives as quickly as possible and get back. Let's move," Rick said hastily,

Everyone worked at a quick pace in gathering the explosives, as a herd began to make it's way onto the highway. After a plan set out by Rick, the group had successfully gotten the explosives and managed to keep the herd on the highway, Rick insisting they might need it to their advantage at some point. As they drove away, the group laughed breathlessly as they all panted, amazed that they had pulled it off,

The group arrived back in Alexandria just in time, seeing the Saviors' vans pull up, driving into the settlement as they began to get out, circling the group. "Hello again," Simon greeted, as Rick walked towards him, pretending to be oblivious as to why they were here. "We'd thought it'd be a little longer before the next collection," Rick stated, referring to their supplies. Simon scoffed as he placed his hands on his hips. "We're not here for a tribute. We're here for Daryl," he laughed. "He's not here. We didn't even know he was missing," Rick lied, pretending to look confused as Simon waved towards his men,

"I'm sure you won't mind if we take a look around then. Everyone grab a buddy," Simon hollered, as he grabbed Carl's shoulder, as the group made their way around Alexandria, watching the Saviors loot the place and turn it upside down in search of Daryl. As they walked back to the front gates, after scoffing at the empty pantry that surprised the group, it having been fully stocked before they left, Simon spoke out. "Sorry we couldn't stay but we have a litany of other shit to attend to," he apologized with mock sadness as he walked towards the van, hopping in to close the door,

"Oh and Rick?" Simon asked, as Rick looked up, "if Daryl does turn up here. Let him know Y/N's getting a little lonely on her own." Rick's jaw clenched as he forced himself to nod at Simon's statement. Behind him, Carl stepped forward angrily, but Michonne grabbed his forearm, pulling him back as he breathed heavily at the mention of your name as Simon saluted, driving off with the rest of his soldiers. Rick looked at the others who looked just as angry and worried as Carl had been, noticing the urgency to get you back home safe; and soon. Rick huffed, having to deal with a missing Gabriel and a missing food stock,

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MEANWHILE.....

You shivered as you hugged into the wall as much possible, trying to generate some warmth. You hadn't eaten since they had put you in here 2 days ago now. At some point throughout that time, you struggled to know when, Sherry whispered through the door on the changing of the guards at your cell, that she had managed to get Daryl out. You thanked her profusely, putting your trust in her now as you beamed brighter than you had in a while, happy that Daryl was hopefully home safe by now, though you knew he probably hated you for trying to play the hero, and staying at the Sanctuary. You didn't care, you'd rather see him angry, than see him in his cell any longer, than see him with new fresh wounds courtesy of Dwight,

Before you knew it, the door to your cell swung open, as you covered your eyes shakily, half from the shock of the door opening, and half due to your lack of food and water. Your vision blurred as a figure walked in, gripping your arm roughly, harshly hauling you off the floor as you cried out. You struggled to stay upright as you were dragged into a room finally, being thrown to the floor. You looked up to see Simon who was the one who had dragged you here. You stared up at him angrily, as he smirked. Before you could ask him anything, the door creaked open, as Negan entered, making you cower slightly, as he sauntered into the room with one Savior next to him,

"So how's my favorite wife doing? You enjoying your new room?" he taunted mockingly, as you stared at the floor from where you were sat, your dress from 2 days ago pooling over your legs, filthy. You didn't reply, as your lip twitched in anger. He walked towards you, as you refused to look at him, as he took your chin in his hand, gentler than you were expecting, as you flinched from his touch, but didn't move away, trying not to agitate him further. Your body shook from both the cold and from dread as he ran his leather glove-clad thumb, over your lip, swiping softly over the stitch that Sherry had done on your cut you had endured from his hit the days previous,

You hissed at the feeling of the rough leather catching in the stitch slightly as he only laughed at your reaction. "Now, back to business," he hollered, as he let go of your chin rapidly, making your face fall down as your head hung low. With a nod given, Simon pulled you up to your feet as you struggled to stay up, as he stood next to you ensuring you wouldn't fall down. You looked up at him now from where you stood, as he paced the room, Lucille resting heavily on his shoulder. "What I wanna know, is how you helped our little buddy Daryl and one of my wives, Sherry escape," he whispered menacingly with a wide grin. You knew he'd eventually come asking you about it, but it didn't stop your blood running cold at the question,

"W-what, I-I don't know what you’re talking about," you replied through shaky breaths, as you stood a bit taller, pretending you knew nothing about them even being gone, which was half true, as you didn't know Sherry had managed to escape after she came to tell you she had freed Daryl. Negan lumbered towards you ever so slowly, unsatisfied with your answer, as he leaned down slightly to be at your eye-level, smirking at you. After a moment of silence, and him staring you up and down, in one swift movement, he had stepped backwards and clicked his fingers. Before you could move, the Savior next to you had kneed you in the abdomen as you let out a pained cry, but closed your mouth quickly, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of hearing you cry. "I-I don't know anything," you repeated, more sure of yourself now. You had thought about it, being logical. 'If he's standing here asking you what you had to do with it, then he really has no proof at all. He doesn't know anything. He’s bluffing,’ you told yourself, maintaining your strong facade as he squinted, analyzing you more closely now, before he nodded again,

You braced yourself this time, seeing the soldier pull his small knife from his sheath, slicing you just at the edge of the skin on your forearm in a long jagged line. You immediately yelped from the cut, bringing your right hand to hold your wound, trying to stop the blood that flowed from it. You went to fall, but Simon only grabbed your forearm, dragging you back up. "I'm gonna ask you one more time. Don't make this harder on yourself, sweetheart. Daryl is gone, Sherry is gone. You were the last person she talked to. And suddenly, they're both missing," Negan's voice boomed, though you knew him better than he thought, and his voice faltered, clearly having no real evidence that it was you who had helped Daryl escape. You didn't know Sherry was planning on escaping, but after she confided in you about the life she lived as one of Negan's wives, you could understand why she fleed, not about to rat her out. She had helped Daryl after all, even when she didn't have to,

You felt one tear fall from your eye from the piercing pain in your arm, grateful that the cut hadn't been deeper, but still biting your tongue to keep your muffled cries under control. "So what. do you know about it?" he growled out, accompanied by a wicked smile. You lifted your head to look at him. "I don't know how they got out. I swear," you promised, putting an innocent, tearful look on your face. He shook his head angrily, looking for a confession from you. Negan nodded once again, as the Savior approached you once again with the bloody knife. You tried to get out of Simon's strong grip, as he moved to hold both of your arms now, as you fought back, thrashing around as much as possible with your fatigue and your wound that was now bleeding profusely,

"No please. I don't know anything," you begged through your tears that started to fall now, as he neared you with the knife, holding it to the bicep of your other arm, beginning to pierce through the skin. You let out a rough, pained scream as he began to cut your skin. "P-please, I don't know anything. You have to listen to me," you yelled through strenuous sobs. Negan seemed to have actually listened to you, as the soldier stopped just as he began to cut deeper, as you were left with much smaller, bleeding cut than on your other arm. Your hair stuck to your forehead from sweat as you panted rapidly now, looking at Negan, who was now leaned against the shut door of the room holding his bar. He stayed silent as he stared at you, intrigued,

You didn't wait for confirmation you could speak, grabbing your opportunity with both hands. "D-don't you think that if I had helped them escape that I would've left with them? I didn't even know Daryl had left, til just now," you weeped, looking at him with pleading eyes. He tried to make it look as though what you were saying didn't make sense, and that he wasn't letting it in, but you knew by the way he was silent, that he was most definitely hearing you out. "I-I mean, Daryl left me?" you asked, your voice cracking as you played your part once again, trying to ignore your blood dripping on the floor as you clutched your arm. You could tell Negan was being convinced, it was working. You just really had to sell it now,

In the silence, as Simon and the Savior shared confused perplexed glances at Negan's lack of speech and his surprisingly calm demeanor, his anger having completely melted away now, as his serious expression remained, but without the animosity it had moments prior. In a bold move, you walked towards Negan, as he waited a moment, before nodding at Simon, who reluctantly let your arms go. "Daryl left me here. He's not who I thought he was. I-I have nothing for me in Alexandria anymore," you croaked out, disheartened, as your tears continued to sting your cheeks. "He abandoned me. I-It's made me realize," you started, now in front of him, gazing up at him with water-filled eyes, as you moved your hand not covered in red to touch his arm. He flinched slightly, wanting to pull away completely, but he didn't,

That let you know that it was possible to sway him now. "Y-y-you were right the whole time. He doesn't love me. I-If he did, he would've rescued me. B-but he didn't because he doesn't care about me," whimpered out, as your fingers begin tracing small soft circles on his knuckles now. "B-but you do. You care about me. D-don't you?" you asked nervously through your sobs, as you looked up at him expectantly as you could see his stony exterior begin to crumble. In a final attempt, you broke down in tears, your hands shaking as you tried to hold your wound tight, crying for a few moments before finally, in the midst of your tears, you felt arms enclose your body as you gasped, but he held you tighter,

You allowed yourself to fall into his hold, wanting it to seem convincing. Your weak arms encircled his waist, as his hand reached to bring your head tighter into his chest as you cried, not caring that blood from your cut was now getting on his jacket. As your emotions began to die down, and your crying stopped, you were brought back to the fact that you were injured. "Shh, it's okay angel," he whispered, and you forced yourself not to smile smugly, at the fact you had fooled him again. You sniffled as you felt your body finally crumple, from exhaustion, from emotion, from blood loss, you weren't sure. He watched your eyes begin to flutter open and closed, blinking slower than normal, as he lifted you up, holding you bridal style now,

"What do we do?" Simon asked annoyed at his leader's naive fondness towards you, as Negan began to walk out, stopping in his tracks at the question. "Get Dwight into a cell. I'll be down to ask him a few questions in a bit," he replied nonchalantly, his signature smile back on his face. You stared up at him from where you lay in his arms as he gazed down at you, wanting nothing more than to push yourself out of his hold, and force yourself to crawl if you had to. But you couldn't, you could barely move from tiredness as you felt your vision darken, black darkness now surrounding you as you passed out. Before you knew it, you felt a cushiony bed beneath you as you opened your eyes fully with force, seeing a man looming over you. In a flurry, seeing him as a threat, you grabbed the first thing next to you, sitting upward rapidly to attempt to strike the individual as you released a loud outcry at your action,

But before you could, your wrist was caught by a strong hand halfway through the motion. You blinked rapidly, everything around you become clearer as you saw a man in a long white coat staring at you, with a scared, fearful expression. You turned your head to the right to see Negan clutching your wrist as he began to laugh amusingly. "Easy now, pocket rocket. This is Dr. Carson. He's just going to bandage you up," Negan explained with a toothy grin as a few pieces of your hair had fallen in front of your face, as you calmed your breathing, letting the syringe, being the first thing you grabbed from the steel table next to you, drop onto the bed as your posture slackened, easing as Dr. Carson shakily continued, finishing his bandage job as he looked at you startled, fearful you would have another outburst as you eyed him warily,

"Atta girl," Negan chanted, as he smiled at you, as you stared now at your bandaged arm. You swung your arms over the side of the medical bed now, looking at the patchjob and the small plaster on the smaller cut on the bicep of your other arm. "C'mon," Negan murmured, as he guided you off the bed. "Thanks," you grumbled to the doctor, as you walked out, his hand at your back, leading you down the hallway. You zoned out as you walked, before he coughed. You stopped and looked up, seeing the door to the same cell you had been in for the last 2 days. You gazed up at him in confusion, as your breathing quickened, dreading going back in there,

He must've sensed your apprehension, as he put his hand on your shoulder, turning you towards him now. "I know, I know. But I need you in here until I find out who helped Sherry and Daryl escape. I know it wasn't you. But I can't let you out until I figure out who it was," he comforted as you wanted to scream 'fuck you' in his face. He knew it wasn't you, despite the fact that it actually was you. But was still keeping you in here anyway. You faked being accepting, as you sent him a slight smile, trying to tell him you understood, even though you wanted to scream, as he placed a soft kiss on your forehead as you cringed at the action. You walked into the cell, sitting down again. "The second we find who did this, I'll come back and get you. I promise," he assured with a smile, as he closed the door, locking it behind him,

After a few minutes of silence, you let out a pained grunt, hitting the wall next to you in anger. As you sat in the darkness, you were unaware of what was happening down the hall in one of the other cells,

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

MEANWHILE.....

Negan strolled up to the cell that Simon had Dwight thrown in, after giving him quite the beating, leaving a nasty gash on his forehead. Without warning he began using Lucille to bang loudly on the cell door, making Dwight jump on the other side of the door. "Just as cozy as you remember, sunshine?" Negan asked tauntingly through the steel door, "you'll be surprised to know that when we went on a little search for your failed project, Daryl, I got back to find I was missing a wife. Or then again, maybe you're not surprised about that." Dwight looked confused as he hadn't known about Sherry escaping. "Hell of a coincidence that is, Dwight. Only reason I could think of is that you've moved to the wrong side of the tracks again," Negan suggested, as Dwight's heartrate quickened at the accusation,

"No," Dwight insisted, denying the accusation that was dealt to him. "Who are you, Dwight?" Negan asked after a pause of silence. "I'm Negan," he insists. Negan unlocks the door, as Dwight squints from the harsh light. Dwight stood up, staring Negan straight in the eye, who leaned against the doorframe, Lucille swung on his shoulder, as he noticed Dr. Carson out the corner of his eye. "Daryl ain't like you, Dwighty. So either he's on his way home, or he's on his way back here to get his girl and kill a bunch of us, mainly me and you," Negan explained, thickly, as he grinned at Dwight, who nodded, knowing what he was about to ask him to do. "Either way, you'll find him. And Sherry. You think you can handle that?" Dwight swallowed thickly, before his expression hardened, nodding at Negan,

"Brilliant," Negan cheered, as he stood up from he was leaning against the doorframe, "Carson, fix what you can." Dwight followed Dr. Carson, who stitched up some of his wounds, before he left, grabbing his weapon and some supplies to head out. On his way out, he headed to your cell, telling the guard that he was sent by Negan, who opened the door as Dwight walked in. The cell you had been put in this time had a window, so you looked up to see Dwight as he closed the door. Your expression darkened as you watched him walk towards you. "What do you want?" you asked angrily, as he crouched down in front of you, placing a plate with a piece of bread on it. You looked down at it, sneering at his attempt of a peace offering. You noticed the wounds he had on his face and the bandages he donned, knowing now that if Sherry had gone missing, Negan had suspected him and taught him a little lesson,

"You were the last one to see Sherry before she escaped. What did she tell you? Did she say anything to you?" he questioned with a stoic expression. You only stared back at him blankly, as you watched him get frustrated by your lack of speech. "Answer me," he growled out, trying to sound intimidating and threatening, "answer me or I'll tell Negan you won't talk." You laughed in his face gleefully, letting your head fall forward as you chuckled. He looked at you confused, and angry, as he glanced at the door every few seconds. "If Negan really had sent you, you wouldn't be looking around at that door every few seconds, as if you’ve just shot someone and tossed the gun," you grunted, laugh gone now, but replaced with a sinister smile, knowing he was in deep shit if he was coming to talk to you,

Dwight's lip twitched as he rolled his eyes at you, scoffing slightly. "My bet is, Negan doesn't know you're here?" you asked rhetorically, already knowing the answer from reading his body language. You watched him with fury, as you struggled not to lunge at him for the shit he had done to Daryl. "If I were you, I'd get out of here and count your lucky stars if I don't tell him about your little visit," you seethed, as you came closer to his face as you said it, clearly not meaning your threat lightly. Dwight rose to stand as he began to pace, still not leaving the cell. "Look, just quit being a stubborn bitch, and tell me. What did she say to you when she was in here? Did she mention anything?" he yelled, but not too loud that the guard outside would hear,

You thought for a moment, furrowing your eyebrows. "Now that I think about it, she said... she said something. She told me... she mentioned," you contemplated, trying to recall, as Dwight stepped a bit closer trying to hear what you had to say as he gazed at you curiously now,"that... you were a massive jackass." You shouted the last part as your thought-induced expression fell from your face as you now glared at him angrily. Without thought, Dwight swung his hand back, hitting you across the face as you breathed out a bit, before laughing as you touched your lip, taking your finger away to see fresh blood; he had reopened your lip stitch,

For a second, he looked scared at what he had just done and what it might mean for him. "If I were you, I'd get the fuck out. Now," you started venomously, your voice just above a whisper, as you growled out your words in fury, "by the looksof it, you have a hell of a lot more to lose than I do. And if Negan hates one thing, it's people touching his things. So I'd skedaddle before he gets here, and I tell him just about how and why I'm bleeding again, and who exactly was the cause of it. So. Get. Out," you yelled in a fit of fiery rage, cheeks red from anger, as you took the plate of bread, hurling it in his direction as you panted, his face looking a bit shocked and almost scared, dodging the paper plate. Your breathing was fast, and rage coursed through your veins. Knowing he wasn't going to get anywhere, he walked towards the door,

Just before he walked out the door, he heard your voice speak, turning around to look at you stoically and annoyed with your lack of information. "I hope you never find her. People like you don't deserve happiness," you stated angrily, as he stormed out, slamming the door. Your anger fell, as you smirked, happy to have one up on him as you wiped the remainder of the blood from your mouth. Though it wasn't bad enough for you to need another stitch which you were grateful for. After a few hours of sitting in the cell, your door was opened, as a Savior walked in. "Negan requires you in the communal area," he stated authoritatively as you nodded, getting up to follow him as he escorted you there,

Once you got there, you realized that all of Negan's people had gathered already, kneeling down as he stood next to the furnace, as you noticed Dwight was back from leaving to find Sherry, though you didn't see her anywhere. You walked nervously as Negan's eyes landed on you as you strolled towards him. "There she is," he reveled as he took your hand, placing a kiss at the top of it before leading you to stand next to 3 other women, who were all dressed the same. You figured in your head that they were Negan's other wives. You turned to one of them, who smiled at you nervously as you smiled back, both of you, and everyone else, unsure of what was happening,

Negan still had his eyes locked on you, as he smirked widely, making you uneasy. "You're gonna want to pay attention to this," Negan's voice boomed as he pointed his bat up to the stairs behind you. You turned as your eyes widened in horror, seeing a panicked Eugene standing on the stairs next to Laura, one of the Saviors. His eyes locked onto yours as you sent him a fearful look, as tears filled his eyes out of pure nervousness. You turned back to see Dwight heating the hot iron in the furnace, as Negan paced in a circle painfully slowly, as everyone watched on. "I have done the honor of finding the individual who helped 2 of my prized prisoners to escape," Negan announced wickedly, as your heart practically stopped,

'That's why he wanted me here. Fuck,' you thought to yourself, closing your eyes, preparing yourself for your fate of a melted-off face. Without warning, 2 soldiers grabbed Dr. Carson who you remembered from earlier. You couldn't help but look confusedly at the scene, wondering why he was being grabbed as he yelled and cried out in protest. "No, no , no! I didn't. I-I had no part in it," he pleaded truthfully, but Negan sent the top of his bat into his abdomen harshly as the man doubled over. You winced and your heartrate quickened as you watched a man be punished for your crime. "Found this tucked away in your desk," Negan spoke proudly, as he showed a note. You craned your neck to see the words 'goodbye honey' written on a piece of paper,

"You helped Daryl and Sherry escape, because you knew she hated him being held up here. Didn't you?" Negan asked cheerily, though it wasn't much of a question. The doctor shook his head vigorously, denying the accusation as he tried to speak but was still reeling from the pain. "Sherry told Dwighty boy here the whole story before she was ripped apart by walkers," Negan stated bluntly, pointing at Dwight who kept his eyes fixated on the fire in the furnace as he heated the iron. You fought the urge to gasp as you wondered how much of it was true. 'Is Sherry really dead?' you thought to yourself sadly. But you noticed Dwight's guilty face. You were the only one who knew he was lying about Dr. Carson helping Daryl and Sherry escape, because you were the one who had,

And if he was lying about Dr. Carson and Sherry's affair, seeing as he had planted the note in his desk, he could be lying about Sherry, knowing that he still had feelings for her. He was keeping Sherry safe by lying, throwing Carson under the bus for a crime he didn't commit, lying about Sherry being killed. As you were thinking, you were brought out of your thoughts, by the clanging sound of Negan grabbing the iron holding it ever so closely to Carson's cheek as he wept, begging for him not to burn him, as he thrashed around in the grip of the 2 Saviors. You felt guilty but reminded yourself if it wasn't going to be him, it was going to be you getting the iron. You stayed silent. "Tell me you did it. Admit it. And all is forgiven," Negan stated calmly, as Carson began apologizing profusely, admitting to the whole thing,

You were cleverer than Carson. You knew Negan had no plans to forgive. Negan dropped the flaming hot iron to the floor, dusting off Carson's shoulders as he nodded. Suddenly, in a split second movement, Negan had tightened the grip on the man's shoulders, all but throwing him in the raging furnace. You couldn't help the gasp that left your lips and the sick feeling that grew in your stomach at the sight. You weren't the only one to have gasped as you heard one of Negan's wives sobbing into the arms of another. You looked back at the scene, tears filling your eyes. You were a bad person. You couldn't help but feel guilty. Because you should. Dr. Carson had died because of you. Tears poured down your cheeks freely,

"Never should've doubted you, Dwighty," Negan laughed coolly, as he slung his arm around Dwight's shoulders, "Sherry was one of my favorites, I'm sorry." Though there was no sympathy in his voice. "I'm not," Dwight bit back cruelly, as Negan laughed at his coldness, though you read straight through it. You watched as Negan dismissed everyone, people scattering to go back to their work, and the wives back to their room. You stood still, unsure of where you were supposed to go, back to the cell. Did he want you to work for him now like the rest? Negan strolled towards you, seeing the tears running down your face,

His hand reached out to carress your cheek, guiding your chin up so that your teary eyes were now locked onto his face, struggling to see through your blurred vision from your tears. "C'mere," he drawled dramatically, again unsure if his sympathy was real or not, as he pulled you into him, as you mindlessly let yourself be guided down hallway after hallway, feeling his gaze on you every once in a while. Before you knew it, he opened the door to reveal his room, walking you in before closing the door behind him. Your crying had eased slightly, looking up at him in confusion. "I told you once I'd found the culprit, I'd come and get you," he repeated what he'd told you earlier, as he smiled at you, though you just stared at him with a blank, saddened expression, tears still flowing from the scene that you couldn't get out of your head, unable to escape the truth of knowing it was your fault it had occurred, but you wouldn't tell him that part,

"Oh honey," he consoled, as he moved to wrap his arms around your shaking frame. It didn't take a genius to see that you were a shell of the person you were when you'd arrived here. You cried even more as he smoothed your hair with his hand, making you want to push him off, but knowing you'd probably be thrown back in the cell, so you relented. He had hit you, he had watch you be tortured, he had you in a cell with no food or water for days. Your heart split in two as you thought of the only person you wanted to see in this moment; Daryl. "I'm sorry angel. I mean I had reason to suspect you. But I am sorry, for it all," he apologized as he held you,

You forced yourself to look at him, knowing what he wanted to hear you say, you may as well get it out of the way. "I-I'm sorry," you choked out giving you an expectant look that told you he wanted you to continue. "F-for trying to kill you. I-I'm sorry. I don't know what I was doing. It was a terrible lack of judgement. I-I guess I was trying to protect Daryl," you sobbed through your apology, but his icy glare told you to keep going. "B-but I know now, that he doesn't care about me like you do. He doesn't love me like you do," you whispered nervously, as he seemed satisfied, pulling you closer to him as he shushed you mockingly,

Your crying had ceased after a few minutes of standing like that. Eventually, he pulled away to look at you. "C'mon sunshine, give me a smile. I apologized. You apologized. It's forgotten. I hate to see you like this," he smiled smugly, wiping your dried tears with his thumb. You bit back every bit of hate you had, giving him a smile in return. "There's my girl," he cooed, as he stared at you. "Why don't you go take a shower? Get yourself cleaned up? Then we can go to bed," he whispered into your ear, as he kissed your cheek lightly. You nodded quickly, to get away from his lingering touch and partly because you wanted to be clean. He winked at you as you smiled, practically running into the bathroom,

You shut the door, turning on the shower as you quickly ripped the 3 or 4 day old dress off, but you couldn't be sure how many days it had been now. All sense of time had gone completely out the window as you stepped under the water, instantly beginning to scrub harshly at your skin, trying to avoid the bandage around your arm and the bruises that littered your skin from the beating you had took from the Savior as you were interrogated. You cried under the water, allowing yourself to fall apart, as you tried to wash yourself of any dirt, any memory, any feeling of his touch on you. You had held up your strong front for so long, as you finally allowed yourself to let go for those short few minutes that you stayed in the shower. You would've stayed longer, but you couldn't keep yourself standing for too long without needing to fall asleep, completely drained from the events from the days passed,

You dried off your hair as best as you could, before pulling on a pair of loose clothes, feeling claustrophobic even from your own skin right now, not needing anything constricting you. You took a deep breath, looking at your clean, but energyless body in the mirror, your eyebags dark and accentuated from the lack of sleep. 'You can do this. You're going to get out of here. I don't know when. But you will. You're going to survive this,' you told yourself, not allowing yourself to back down, to accept your fate. You were still going to do whatever you needed to do to make it home. You just had to stay sane. You took a deep breath once again forcing yourself to walk out of the bathroom, not wanting to keep Negan waiting or anger him further, having seen first hand once again what happened when that happened,

As you walked out, your nose smelled it before your eyes saw it; a tray of assorted food sitting on a trolley as he grinned. "Ta da. Realized you might have been hungry after the few days," he revealed, much too arrogantly for your liking. 'Might be hungry?' you scoffed to yourself. But your thoughts were silenced by the loud grumbling of your stomach. You smiled weakly through your fatigue as you made your way to your side of the bed where the trolley was situated. You sat yourself on the edge of the bed, relishing in the feeling of something soft after so many days of being stuck in that cell,

You turned around for a moment, watching as Negan lay sprawled under the covers on his side of the bed as he grinned at you, giving you a nod. You didn't need any more confirmation than that as you began to tuck into the food, not caring about being ladylike about it, only now realizing the weight of the hunger that you had been suppressing. As you ate, you felt Negan sit up in the bed but you didn't care why, as you felt his hand caress your shoulder. Your breath hitched, but you forced yourself not to flinch, letting him lean down to kiss your shoulder as you focused on the food. He did this until you had stopped eating, all but taking your last bite, before you practically collapsed into the bed, the lack of sleep hitting you,

You were so tired that you fell asleep almost instantly, not being able to notice or do anything to stop Negan from pulling you close to him to cuddle you; not that you would. To gain his trust back, you'd have to let stuff like that slide and engage in it yourself too if you wanted to survive this. You hated this; feeling useless. You wanted to help your group. Little did you know, they were slowly planning their revolt as they gathered numbers, meeting Ezekiel, making a deal with a new group run by a woman called Jadis, Daryl reuniting with Carol in The Kingdom, Rosita and Sasha coming up with a plan of their own, ready to execute it. All the while, you sat here, unable to do anything to stop any of it

PART 8 COMING SOON ;) let me know if you want to be added to the taglist <3 hope you enjoyed

TAGLIST: @onlyheretoread2 @lothiriel9 @iheartyouyou @catisnotademonn @goosegorl

[mariacallous]

These days, NATO worries that Russia might attack its airbases. Almost uniquely within the alliance (Finland has a similar system), Sweden is prepared for such contingencies: It has an extensive network of roads that double as military runways. It also has aircraft capable of landing and taking off on such roads—and officers and soldiers able to service and move the aircraft within minutes. With Western air dominance no longer guaranteed, other NATO members can learn from Sweden’s dual-use roads.

It’s one of my lasting childhood memories: the rural road near my house that was much wider than the other local roads—and the fact that seemingly ordinary cargo trucks from Warsaw Pact states (I especially remember Polish ones) parked themselves nearby with unusual frequency. This was during the Cold War, and Western trade with the Warsaw Pact was minuscule, but there they were, the trucks that mysteriously kept idling near the road.

That’s because this was one of the roads—spread across Sweden—that doubled as military runways. “The idea was to move the planes around faster than the Soviets could do surveillance of them,” said Col. Carl Bergqvist, a fighter pilot and the Swedish Air Force’s current chief of plans. In addition to the highway landing strips, which are normally around a half mile long, Sweden’s clever system featured several shorter connecting roads that were used for taxiing and led to a multitude of aircraft parking spots. “The air force constantly used different parking spots so the Soviets wouldn’t know where the planes were,” Bergqvist said. The aircraft—first Draken, then Viggen—were serviced by similarly nimble crews, usually consisting of only one officer and a handful of conscripts.

It was a bit like a Swedish-Warsaw Pact game of hide-and-seek involving fighter jets, and for neutral Sweden—which had a disproportionately large air force—air power was indispensable. Everyone remembered what happened to Egypt in 1967, when Israel eliminated more than 90 percent of Egypt’s air force in one swoop by bombing aircraft on the tarmac and followed up by decimating Syria’s and Jordan’s air forces in the same fashion.

If the Soviets and their Warsaw Pact allies had managed to knock out Sweden’s air force, the Swedish Army would have faced an almost insurmountable task fending off the invader. For Sweden, bedeviling the Soviets and their Warsaw Pact allies by constantly moving its fighter jets and other aircraft between military bases and roads was an existential question.

Yes, the Soviets had figured out where some of those roads were (hence the constant presence of mysterious trucks in the vicinity of the road near my house), but they could never know which aircraft would be where—and the planes were in constant motion, thanks to the incredibly swift turnaround mastered by the ground crews. The Swedish Air Force was, of course, alert to the Eastern Bloc’s attention and cleverly disguised its activities to the extent possible when gigantic birds are involved. After a plane landed, it would taxi into a forest, and within minutes of arriving it would be ready to take off again.

Sweden still possesses this runway system—and yes, it’s still very much in use. “It’s not particularly difficult to land a JAS Gripen, or a Viggen, on a road,” Bergqvist told me. “They’re built to be able to do this sort of thing, and as a Swedish pilot you learn it early in your training.” (The Viggen was the Gripen’s predecessor. You can watch a Viggen take off from a road here and here. Watch the Gripen land on different roads here. This 1980 Swedish documentary about a road-landing strip is informative even for those who don’t speak Swedish.) Though the Swedish military doesn’t reveal exactly where the road-runways and their connected aircraft maintenance sites are located, it has a map showing the location of four of them: in the south of the country, the center, and the far north.

Indeed, keeping fighter aircraft safe is quickly becoming more important, since today Russian air power once again poses a threat to the West. And now that Sweden is a member of NATO, the alliance’s other members have easy access to the country that has mastered the art of landing anywhere. This expertise is not lost on NATO HQ. “#DidYouKnow that many Swedish roads can double as runways for fighter jets?” the alliance’s X account posted on Aug. 6. “The Swedish Air Force practise the delicate art of landing on regular roads to give them extra flexibility in the event of a crisis.”

Berqvist noted: “There’s massive interest in the Swedish-Finnish system. NATO sees this as part of the Agile Combat Employment concept.” The concept is referred to as ACE.

ACE, essentially, is an alliance-wide effort to do the same thing as the Swedish Air Force’s road-runways. “ACE is an operational scheme of manoeuvre designed to improve resilience and survivability while generating air combat power from both home bases and geographically dispersed locations,” a 2024 NATO release stated.

To make road runways work, said retired Royal Air Force (RAF) Air Marshal Edward Stringer, who was a fighter pilot, “you need to make sure the roads can take it; those sections need to be built to runway standards, and you have to put in the minimum base infrastructure.”

Like Sweden, Finland does indeed possess roads designated as landing strips, but these days the Finnish Air Force flies Hornets, which are soon to be joined by F-35s. These are sophisticated and powerful aircraft, but they need large maintenance crews and lengthy runways. Although two Norwegian F-35s landed on a Finnish highway last year, road landings are not the F-35’s specialty. In early September, the Finnish Air Force will undertake this year’s iteration of its annual road-landing exercise, which will involve Hornets, Hawk jet trainers, and transport and liaison aircraft.

And like Finland, most NATO member states fly F-35s or other U.S.-made aircraft. If countries want road-landing capabilities, they “need to design the aircraft for it too,” Stringer said. “That means airframes and undercarriages that are sturdy and handle well on rougher ground. It also means simple maintenance procedures designed so that teams of conscripts with minimal toolkits can do the servicing. Saab’s Gripen is the exemplar here.” But within NATO, only Sweden, Hungary, and the Czech Republic have Swedish-built Gripens.

RAF pilots (including Stringer) flew Jaguars—which could, and did, land on highways and operate from rough or icy airstrips—until the air force retired the aircraft in 2007. They also had Harriers, which can do vertical take-offs and landings and routinely practiced deploying to hides in the woods, but retired them in 2010. These days, RAF flies F-35s and Typhoons.

And there’s another challenge facing NATO countries keen to foil prospective attacks on their fighter-jet fleets: They’d need a change in culture. “The Swedish model is to use a small number of people who are given a great deal of trust,” Bergqvist pointed out. “It’s a different culture and mindset compared to many other air forces.”

But cultures can change. Indeed, it’s astonishing how quickly mentalities can change when threats do. And even though European nations’ air force bases are vastly better protected than those of Egypt, Syria, and Jordan in 1967, Europe today can’t simply assume that its impressive fleet of fighter jets will be safe in situ. “The Swedish system can be done by almost anyone with the wit to make it work,” Stringer said. “But it’s much easier if you design the whole system from the ground up.” And if European citizens had the opportunity to see evidence of their air forces on a country road near them, they might—like I and so many other Swedes did at a young age—realize that the armed forces are integral parts of our society.

[moltengoldveins]

Homie, I’ve got insomnia, it’s five hours past my bedtime, and I got just one question: 

*slams fist on table* WHERE is the 150k pre-clone-wars-era qpr Emeraldduo fic where Techno is a creedbound beroya under the Haat Mando’ade and Philza is a Jedi Shadow??? Where they meet under random circumstances chasing the same bounty while Phil is pretending not to be a Jedi and they become (Allies? Partners? Friends??) and Techno asks Phil to help the Mando’ade out with this One Excursion only for Phil to reveal his powers saving Jaster from betrayal (because I SAID SO) yadda yadda “I feel so betrayed” yadda yadda “you’re my ancestral enemy” yadday yadda a ton of angst and they don’t speak to one another again until the senate sends the Jedi to Galidraan. Phil takes one look at the mission report and goes “oh, HECK no” and flies himself out there just in time to keep Dooku from going all Murder on them, and talks everyone down to a decent level of calm. Jaster is suspicious, but Does owe Phil a life debt, so he’s willing to cooperate. They uncover a Strange Conspiracy with money leading to Strange Dead Ends. Hm. Odd.

Techno is meanwhile off-world burying his feelings hunting down an ‘escaped pet’ for a rich lord, under the assumption that this in fact an actual animal and not A WHOLE TRAFFICKED FORCE-SENSITIVE CHILD WHAT- (it was Exceedingly obvious the guy was talking about a person ok, like painfully so) kinda panicked, up one whole child, and now bountyless, Techno KNOWS Jaster is really busy on Galidraan right now but he needs Help gosh darnit. He’s gonna go get help. There is lots of bonding with this traumatized child as he attempts to get halfway across the galaxy in his ship (options for names for the ship the Blood God, the Blade, and Carl. Phil’s ship is called the Angel of Death, because duh.) 

Cue dramatic reveal when they get there that Phil is on Galidraan and a very fun sequence in which Wilbur, Jedi Knight and former padawan of Phil’s, takes one singular look at the child (Tommy, it’s tommy, we all know it’s tommy) and decides “this is My Padawan now.” There is a brief custody battle between Techno and Will resulting in shared cultural exchange and switching off on holidays in exchange for Will getting Tommy 90% of the time. Phil is assigned as the Haat Mando’ade liaison by the council to investigate these Strange Proceedings, which in the one hand: yay! A job that keeps him out of the gutters and away from fancy dinners! On the other….. Techno’s been assigned as his escort. Woo. 

Cue epic plots, fun shenanigans, and tons of technobabble as these two idiots unravel the centuries-old plots of the Sith by being really blunt, really chaotic, and really hypercompetent. They spar a lot, meditate a lot, and talk about Philosophy. Sun Tzu is mentioned often. They kill a few Sith. It’s great. 

The fic ends with Phil becoming the first mandalorian jedi in like a thousand years because ✨character development ✨ and because Techno took literally no seconds before flat-out clan-adopting Phil, they’re in the same clan, and he can show him his face. They hug and it’s great and the galaxy is saved and they raise Tommy together whenever Will doesn’t know what he’s doing (a solid 70% of the time) WHY DOESNT THIS EXIST- 

[hopefulatrocity]

From The Ashes Chapter 8

Note: I finally finished Chapter 9, I rewrote the ending like 5 times. I no longer have a beta reader so I'm sorry for any mistakes! This includes a small Rick's POV, I probably won't do that much. I have no doubts Rick would be an ally. Shane not so much. Sorry for the Shane lovers out there. Also, I realize that Daryl will be OOC in this story. I'm trying to keep him as close to character as possible. But have you ever met anyone that, despite whatever walls you've built or whatever anxieties you have, you just felt right with them? Like you know you're supposed to have them in your life but you don't know why? That's the kind of relationship I'm trying to portray with them. Daryl is scared of being something he's denied for so long, but he also feels peace with Pheonyx. They have barely spoken but they both just feel a connection that they can't deny.

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics and @omiyours

Banner by: @liminal-creations​ 

Chapter CW/TW: past child abuse mentions, scars, religious trauma mentions, depression/anxiety, gender dysphoria, transphobia, internal homophobia

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Masterlist

Pheonyx's POV

As everyone began to head back towards the house after Otis’s memorial service, Rick pulled the scruffy attractive man, who he was assuming was the tracker of their group, aside and waved a hand to Pheonyx, beckoning him over to the pair. The dog followed hot on his master’s heels. 

One hand on the bow strong across his chest and the other on the handle of his knife, Pheonyx approached the two men. His disquietude over being around Rick had diminished over the past 24 hours. Pheonyx had always been good at reading people, and he could tell the sheriff was a good man. Maybe a little naïve to the way the world was now but overall he seemed to have a heart of gold. He loved his family, his son especially, and he cared about his people. In all honesty, Pheonyx was slightly jealous of Carl. He would have given anything to have a father that loved him as much as Rick loved his boy. He had Hershel obviously, but there had always been a barrier between the two. In the beginning, Pheonyx didn’t trust the man. How could he? His own father had been abusive. Torn him down and scarred him for life. How could he trust a complete stranger to not do the same thing? His mother insisted that Hershel was different. But he hadn’t believed her at first. Over time he realized she was right. But he still couldn’t find it in himself to let the older man in. And as Pheonyx’s feelings of gender dysphoria–although he didn’t have a word for it at the time–grew, the divide between him and his parents also grew. He didn’t fault them for not understanding what he was going through. He hadn’t even known until he was in his late teens and had access to the internet finally. He did fault them for their refusal to see his pain. Their continued insistence that the depression and wrongness he was feeling was just a phase. Or that he was broken for feeling that way. Forcing him to have bi-weekly therapy sessions with the creepy pastor from their church, where he was forced to dress in “respectable” women’s clothes and recite verses from the bible about being a submissive woman. His mother throwing out all his jeans and replacing them with flowing skirts. Forcing makeup on his face and pushing him to go on dates with boys from the church. It wasn’t until he was in the hospital, his spirit broken, that they finally started to call him Pheonyx. But the fact that he had to almost die in order for them to even try erected a wall in his heart that they could never break down. Hershel had been a father figure to him but not in the way Rick was to Carl. Seeing the man sitting with his son, holding his hand, and whispering stories to the young boy, Pheonyx had felt the rolling of his stomach as he thought of his own father. He felt the round burns on his shoulder tingle and the long scars, that crisscrossed his back, felt like they reopened. It was all psychological. He knew that. But that didn’t stop him from rolling his shoulders to ease the ache. He would have given anything to have a father like Rick growing up. But he also knew that all the pain he endured as a child gave him the fortitude to survive the world as it was now.  It allowed him to protect his family and a small part of him was grateful for that. 

Rick gave him a small smile, which Pheonyx returned. His gaze moved to the man next to him, blue eyes meeting his. As he got closer and stopped in front of the two, he waited for the inevitable feeling of panic and anxiety to flare at the increasing proximity of the strange man. But it never came. The normal tingling of fear that rushed his veins was absent. All he felt was a fluttering in his stomach and his mouth going dry. 

“Pheonyx, this is Daryl Dixon. He’s the tracker I mentioned yesterday. He’s been headin’ up the search for Sophia. Daryl, this is Hershel’s stepson. Both Maggie and Hershel say he is an expert on the property and woods surrounding it. He’s offered his services-” Rick was interrupted by Kismet barking once, begging to be included in the conversation. “And his dog, to help find Sophia. I’d appreciate it if you two would work together to head up the search for her.” 

The man, Daryl, had his arms crossed against his chest and Pheonyx noted the tensing of his muscles at the mention of working with him. His blue eyes were like fire on Pheonyx’s skin and it was almost like the man was seeing all of his secrets written across his already-inked skin. He felt a different kind of fear fill his stomach. Did he know? If he did, would he be okay with Pheonyx? With who he was? What he was? Pheonyx tried not to judge people by their appearances or label them, but it was instinct sometimes. The only word he could think of to call the man in front of him was “redneck”. And unfortunately, his encounters with men of that label never ended well. So why wasn’t he panicking? Internally, his mind was rolling with worry about being outed, but the urge to run, or to fight, didn’t fill him at the sight of this man. That had to mean something, didn’t it? But why did Daryl tense? Was he uncomfortable about being around new people like Pheonyx was? Maybe that was it. 

“Work better alone.”, the older man grunted and Pheonyx’s knees went weak at the sound. It was deep and raspy. The edges of it practically rubbed against his spine and it sent shivers through his body. Pheonyx had opted not to take testosterone when he started transitioning. The major reasoning being that, outside of his breasts, he was comfortable with his body. Genetically, he was lucky. Overall, Pheonyx wasn’t too curvy, his body was lean and with the right clothes, he could pass fairly well. He also didn’t have an issue with growing body hair. The hair on his legs and arms was fairly dark and thick, so testosterone wouldn’t have been much help in that department.  But the low register of Daryl’s voice was one he would kill to have and made him wonder how his own voice would have sounded if he chose to go on T.  Would it sound as raspy as Daryl’s? Would it make the other man feel how he was feeling now? Like the rumbling of his voice was vibrating throughout his body, from his ears to between his legs? Shit, he really had to stop his mind from heading towards the bedroom around this man. The likelihood of Daryl being attracted to him was nearly zero. He was most likely straight and he’d probably be freaked out by another man lusting after him. He had to get his mind back to the matter at hand. The little girl that was lost. 

“So do I. But I spent last night creating a plan for the search. We can split up tomorrow but I need your help at least for today. I’ve been working with Kismet,” Pheonyx inclined his head to the side where the dog sat, “On scent tracking for the last month. I need you to take me to exactly where she and Rick split up. He can follow her trail from there. It hasn’t rained so he shouldn’t have too much trouble.” Noticing Daryl’s blue eyes flicker to Rick, Pheonyx continued, “Rick needs to stay here for Carl and Lori. And Shane fucked up his ankle at the high school. Or else one of them would take me”. Which wasn’t true. Pheonyx refused to go anywhere with Shane. But Daryl didn’t need to know that.  Pheonyx squared his shoulders and crossed his arms across his chest, trying to appear stern and unmoving. 

Daryl raised an eyebrow at the younger man, his eyes moving down to look at the dog next to him. “ That mutt is a scent tracker? He don’t look like he’s got much goin’ on behind those eyes.”

Confused, Pheonyx’s eyebrows pushed together. He glanced down to Kismet and sighed at the sight. The dog was on his back, rolling around, with his back foot in his mouth, chewing on it like it was a chicken drumstick. He heard a small chuckle from Rick and snort from Daryl. Using his boot to gently nudge the dog back to attention, Pheonyx muttered to the pup, “You’re lucky you're cute.”

He held his ground against Daryl though. “Okay, Kismet may not be the brightest crayon in the box, I’ll admit. But when he’s got a job he works hard. Unfortunately, you guys don’t have the luxury of shopping for a certified dog. I stand by him though. We’ve only tracked wildlife so far, but I would bet my life on this ‘mutt’”

Daryl looked him over, seeing the conviction in Pheonyx’s words, he nodded. 

“I want us all to gather up to talk about the plan. You okay with that?” Rick asked while looking at Pheonyx. After receiving an affirmation, Rick continued, “You’ll need something with Sophia’s scent on it, so I’ll ask Carol for something of hers. I’m assuming you have a map we can use?” 

Pheonyx nodded and noted the way Daryl’s hand lifted from across his chest to brush against the pocket on his shirt. “I got one in the stable, I’ll grab it and we can meet up by the cars.” 

Pheonyx, carrying his rolled up county survey map, approached the old station wagon that everyone was crowded around. Aside from Rick and Daryl, Andrea, Shane, Hershel, and Maggie were surrounding the hood of the beaten up car. 

He held up the map and then unrolled the thin paper across the hood. “County survey map. Shows terrain and elevations. And other stuff. As you can see.” His sister placed a rock on one side of the map to hold it down and Shane placed a rock on the other side. All the colored marks and lines stood out against the grays of the printed landscape. Maggie had already seen the map the previous day, so she wasn’t shocked by the extensive key in the corner or all of the handwriting across the parchment. Everyone but Daryl stared at it wide-eyed. Pheonyx flinched as he noticed the dark look that came over Hershel’s face when he realized what the red stars indicated. He knew there would be an argument about this later. Trying to avoid thinking of the inevitable fight, Pheonyx looked for Daryl’s reaction. The tracker’s face was almost blank, but Pheonyx noticed a spark of something as Daryl’s gaze swept over the large paper. His hand went from brushing the corner of the map on the hood, to brushing against the pocket of his shirt again. Intense blue eyes lifted from the paper and ran over Pheonyx’s face like a warm hand. Heat flooded his face and he looked away. 

Rick realized the meaning of the stars the same time Hershel did. “You’re the one who placed the walker traps? We ran into quite a few of them. Weren’t sure what to make of them at first.”

“Walkers?”, Pheonyx asked, slightly confused before realizing what the other man meant. “Oh yeah. I call them Shadows. Walkers is a bit less of a mouthful though.” Avoiding the glare his stepfather was sending him, he kept his eyes trained on Rick. “Yes. The traps were my doing. The tree traps are pretty obvious when you’re walking but you’ll have to be careful of the pits when you’re out there. I placed signs around them as a warning for any living people walking around out there. So be on the lookout for those.”

Andrea looked at him with hard eyes, “Pits? Is that a euphemism or something?”

Pheonyx shook his head. “No, ma’am. They’re, quite literally, pits. Holes I’ve dug with sharp sticks at the bottom. Windchimes right above the hole to draw in any Shadows that are nearby. There aren’t a lot. I only had a chance to dig two so far. ”

A sharp inhale came from where Hershel and Maggie were standing. His body tensed again, an instinct from childhood that crept up on him. He didn’t expect Hershel to hit him or to lash out, but he couldn’t help the fight or flight instincts that popped up whenever the older man was mad. He rolled his shoulder as the phantom pains echoed across his back. 

Noting the tension, Rick spoke up as he glanced between the older man and his stepson. “Well this is perfect, Pheonyx. Thank you. We can finally get this thing organized. It looks like you’ve already gridded the whole area. So, we can start searching in teams.” 

Hershel let out a sound of disapproval. “Not you. Not today. You gave 2 units of blood. You wouldn’t be hiking 5 minutes in this heat before passing out.”, he turned his gaze to Shane, “And your ankle. You push it now, you’ll be laid up a month. No good to anyone.”

“What about Pheonyx? He gave the same amount I did.”, Rick puzzled. 

Hershel shook his head. “Pheonyx hasn’t been on a near-starvation diet for the past couple months and didn’t experience an intense bout of shock yesterday. Your body needs to rest. His doesn’t.” 

Shane let out a huff and shook his head. “His?”, the man’s gaze ran over Pheonyx’s body with disapproval. 

Pheonyx’s eyes narrowed on the man and he squared his shoulders. “Yeah. His. Got a problem with that, Ears?” 

Tension rose in the air. Maggie and Hershel were glaring at Shane along with Pheonyx. Rick was sending his best friend looks of reproach. Andrea shifted uncomfortably. The air of hostility was broken by Daryl, a snort of a laugh clearing the air. The people from his group looked at him incredulously, shocked by the sound. Apparently, he didn’t laugh much. The sharp sound made the corner of Pheonyx’s lip curve up. Something about the noise made his stomach flutter and he decided he’d do anything to hear it again. 

“Just me and Pheonyx then.”, Daryl’s gruff voice saying his name sent shivers up his spine. He tried to hold off the blush that was threatening to overtake his face. He hoped that everyone around him would mistake the redness for the heat. Seeing the smirk on his sister’s face though, he knew that wasn’t likely. Kismet, who had been sitting patiently at Pheonyx’s feet, barked at Daryl, upset at not being included in his statement. Sometimes, Pheonyx swore the dog could understand every word that was being said. The archer looked around Shane to raise his eyebrow at the dog. “And the mutt. I’ll take ‘em back to where her trail started.” 

Pheonyx cleared his throat, trying to break his train of thought away from Daryl.  “From there, I’ll have Kismet start tracking her scent. Did you get something of hers for us to use, Rick?”

Rick pulled out a small t-shirt that had been hanging from his belt. Pheonyx took the shirt from him, nodding his thanks. It was pink with a flowery design on the front and thin from frequent washes. He tried not to think of how small it was. How terrified the girl must be. Not only being lost in the woods but also having to run and hide from the dead. 

“I can still be useful.”, Shane said while placing his hands on his hips. “I’ll drive up to the interstate, see if Sophia wandered back.” Pheonyx couldn’t help but notice how flat the statement was. He could tell Shane didn’t believe that Sophia would be there. He was following a script. Saying what he thought other people would want to hear. The man had already carved Sophia’s name into a tombstone. Pheonyx clenched his fists on the hood of the car, trying to calm himself from the anger in his chest. 

“Alright. Tomorrow then. We’ll start doing things right.”, Rick placed his hands on his hips, mirroring Shane’s stance. 

“That means we can’t have our people out there with just knives. They need the gun training we’ve been promising them.” Shane said. Andrea visibly perked up at the statement. 

Oh no. Hershel is not going to like that, Pheonyx thought. 

Just like he thought, Hershel cut in, “I’d prefer you not carrying guns on my property. We’ve managed so far without turning this into an armed camp.”

A slightly bitter part of Pheonyx’s brain wanted to tell Hershel that they had only managed so far because of his traps and nightly runs in the woods. But he kept his mouth shut. He was already dreading the argument about the traps. It would just make it worse by antagonizing his stepfather. Daryl’s eyes shift from Hershel to him, almost like he knew the Pheonyx was the reason the farm had avoided tragedy up until this point.  

Shane shifted the hat he was carrying in one hand to the other, clenching it in frustration. He glanced from Hershel to Pheonyx “Your boy”, he said the word with a slight tinge of disgust and Pheonyx had to reign in his anger, “here carries one. Plus three other weapons. Don’t sound much like an unarmed camp.”

The look Hershel gave Shane was scathing. “If you must know, my son and I disagree over his use of weapons on the property. Even so, he is my son. You are a group of strangers who I’ve offered shelter to out of the kindness of my heart. You want to stay here, you play by my rules.” His stepfather placed a deep emphasis on the word “son” and Pheonyx could tell this was his way of standing up for him. Hershel wasn’t a confrontational man by any means, so the fact that he was speaking like this to Shane, made Pheonyx feel elated and protected. He’d spent so long having to stand up for himself against his mother and stepfather. Having Hershel stand up for him now was a nice change of pace. 

Rick gave his best friend a look that told him to keep his mouth shut. “Look, Hershel’s right. We’re guests here. This is your property. And we will respect that.”, He looked pointedly at Shane before taking his Colt from his holster and placing it onto the hood of the car. Shane shook his head but placed the Glock, that he had tucked in the back of his pants, onto the hood of the car with a clang. His facade was calm but there was a flame of anger in his eyes that made Pheonyx shiver. 

A look of relief flitted across Rick’s face. “Okay, first thing’s first: set camp, find Sophia.”

“I hate to be the one to ask, but somebody’s got to-”, Shane said, “What happens if we find her and she’s bit? I think we should all be clear on how we handle that.”

From the way he spoke, Pheonyx could easily guess at how Shane would handle that situation. Flashes crossed his mind of sitting next to Shawn’s bedside, wiping the sweat from his younger brother’s forehead. Trying desperately to bring his fever down, even knowing the attempts were futile. Listening as his brother screamed from the pain. Doing the same for his mother when she was bitten after Shawn turned. His gut clenched thinking about a little girl having to endure that suffering. Glancing over at Maggie, Pheonyx could tell the same memories were passing through her mind. 

“You do what has to be done.” Rick said softly, looking at the ground. The pain of having to say those words was written all over his body. 

“And her mother? What do you tell her?”, Maggie asked, shock lacing her voice. 

“The truth.”, Andrea replied. 

Pheonyx watched the look pass between his sister and stepfather. He knew that they were upset by this conversation. To them, the strangers were talking about callously killing a sick little girl. He’d been trying to get his family to realize the truth, that these weren’t people anymore. They were dead. But he knew why they clung so hard to their beliefs. If they admitted that the Shadows were dead, then that would mean admitting that all their friends and neighbors were dead. That his mom and Shawn were dead too. 

Shane’s nasally voice invaded Pheonyx’s train of thought, “I’ll gather and secure all the weapons, make sure no one’s carrying till we’re at a practice range off site. I do request one rifleman on lookout. Dale’s got experience.”, He tilted his head in the direction of the man wearing the bucket hat, who was helping set up tents a few feet away from them. 

Hershel hesitated and Rick jumped in, his voice soothing, “Our people would feel safer. Less inclined to carry a gun.” Pheonyx had to admit, the man had a silver tongue, because Hershel nodded his assent. The Sheriff thanked him, looking relieved. 

Eager to get the search started, and also already drained socially, Pheonyx looked at Daryl, catching his eyes, “You ready to head out?”  

The man grunted and started walking away from the car, so Pheonyx assumed that was a yes. Before he could follow him, Maggie reached down and grabbed a canvas backpack leaning on the side of the car. She tossed it to her brother, which he caught easily. He raised his eyebrow at her in question. 

“Food for you guys, a few bottles of water, a bowl for Kismet, and a baggie of treats. You’re not gettin’ him to do any trackin’ without a bribe. Right, handsome?” Maggie smiled down at Kismet, who was panting at his side. The dog’s tail thumped at the attention he was getting. 

“Thanks”, Pheonyx said. “We should be back around sunset. But don’t wait up for dinner.” 

“Come back in one piece.”, Maggie kissed his cheek and gave Kismet a pat on the head. Lowering her voice, a playful smirk crept onto her face. “Have fun with your archer.”

Hiding the heat that immediately spread on his face, Pheonyx ducked his head. Normally he didn’t carry a bag when he was out in the woods, so he had to configure the weapons on his body to be able to carry it. He ran into a bit of a problem with the quiver and bow across his chest. Since he wasn’t planning on doing any hunting and he also had his cutlass and other weapons, he opted to take both off and replace them with the backpack. 

“Can you put these in the barn for me, please?”, he asked his sister sweetly, and she nodded. 

Pheonyx handed the quiver and bow off to his sister. Patting Kismet’s head and whistling to have the dog follow him, Pheonyx jogged to catch up with Daryl. 

Daryl’s POV 

As soon as Pheonyx asked if he was ready to leave, Daryl grunted and started heading towards the woods. He didn’t even look to see if the younger man and his dog were following him. He needed a moment. So many thoughts and feelings were coursing through his body. He wasn’t used to most of them. 

Anger, yes. That feeling was second nature to him. He was angry at Shane for the dirty looks and snide words that he’d flung at Pheonyx. He’d treated him like he was a freak, and it took everything Daryl had not to beat the shit out of the officer. It was the same way that people had treated him and his brother growing up. People assumed that because they were Dixons, that meant they were trouble. In the beginning both boys tried to avoid acting out, so as not to confirm people’s views of them, but eventually they realized it was pointless. They could be model citizens and the whole of Senoia would still see them as the dirty, trailer-trash, sons of Will Dixon. Daryl had retreated into himself at that point. Why bother making friends if people were just going to make assumptions of his character based on his genetics? Merle, unfortunately, went the opposite route. He decided that if people were going to assume he was bad, he might as well live up to their expectations. And often this led to Daryl following him into fucked up situations. But Pheonyx hadn’t let Shane’s words bring him down. He’d straightened his back, stared at him with intense eyes, and spit his hatred right back at him. Daryl hadn’t been able to contain his snort of a laugh at the name Pheonyx had given the other man. The sound was foreign and the others had looked at him in shock. Not surprising really. He didn’t laugh a lot. It was probably the first time they had heard something other than vitriol from him. 

But aside from the usual feelings of anger, Daryl was confused by the fiery feeling in his ears and cheeks. The fluttering of moths(because he refused to call them butterflies) in his stomach. All in regards to Pheonyx. To be honest, he hadn’t heard much of what Rick and the others were discussing at the meeting. All he could focus on was the map in front of him, a larger version of the one that was sitting in his chest pocket. The one that felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. He had suspected that Pheonyx was the one to make the map as soon as he saw him. But this was just confirmation. He’d spent most of the night before just looking at the thin paper. If anyone asked, he would say he was studying it to make a plan for finding Sophia. But in reality, he just kept running his fingers over the handwriting that dotted the paper. Something about it just drew him in. Knowing, now, that Pheonyx was the one who made them, who put all this work into protecting a family who was obviously living in denial about the state of the world, he was confused. What about this man entranced him so much? Why couldn’t he brush off these emotions like he did with everything else? Obviously, he wasn’t sexually attracted to the younger man. That would be wrong. Maybe his body was just pointing him in the direction of a new friend? Aside from Merle, Daryl had never had a true friend before. Maybe he could try being friends with Pheonyx? Even thinking that though, there was a wrongness that flooded his brain. No, what he was feeling wasn’t as simple as friendship. 

When Pheonyx had looked at him, and a light blush had spread across his face, Daryl felt like his soul was leaving his body. Was he feeling these things too? Did Pheonyx feel the same draw to Daryl that Daryl felt to him? Did he have the same voice in his head telling him how wrong these feelings were? Is that why he looked away from him so quickly? 

As he walked, crossbow in his hands, his knees felt weak from the emotional turmoil in his head. There was a hopeful part of him that believed that Pheonyx was also feeling the attraction he was. But another part, a darker part, was telling him that he was a freak, an abomination for feeling what he was for another man. 

Lost in his thoughts, Daryl nearly tripped when Rick’s voice sounded from behind him. He spun around, subconsciously noting that Pheonyx and Kismet were jogging over to the treeline where he was headed.  

“Hey!”, Rick said, his ridiculous sheriff’s hat in hand, “We got a base now. We can get this search properly organized now.”

There was an edge to Rick’s eyes, like he was trying to imply something that Daryl wasn’t picking up. He took a few steps forward, narrowing his eyes. “Ya got a point, or are we just chattin’?”

Rick shuffled his feet, placing his hands on his hips. “My point is, it lets you off the hook. You don’t owe us anything.” 

On one hand, Daryl was slightly pissed that the man assumed he would just leave, even in the midst of a search for a lost girl. He wasn’t that much of an asshole.  On the other hand, he knew that he hadn’t exactly been…. Friendly. He was surly, avoided social situations, and often snapped at other members of the group. Not to mention he tried to kill Rick within 5 minutes of meeting him.  It was no wonder that Rick assumed Daryl was looking for an excuse to leave.  Shaking his head, his eyes landed on Pheonyx, who was standing at the edge of the treeline, petting Kismet, and waiting for Daryl to meet up with them. His eyes were glued to the younger man. He didn’t even think about how it would look to Rick, seeing that Daryl couldn’t pull his gaze away from the man yards away from them. 

The usual edge to his voice gone, the simple sight of Pheonyx placing a haze of calm around his shoulders, Daryl spoke clearly. “My other plans fell through.” 

Without even looking back at Rick, Daryl made his way over to Pheonyx and the mutt. His brain screamed for him to run the other way, but his heart pulled him right to the other man’s side. 

Rick’s POV

Rick watched as Daryl walked towards the treeline,walking beside Pheonyx and Kismet. A slight smile colored the Sheriff’s face. He’d seen the glances that the archer had been throwing the farmer’s stepson. The redness of his ears and cheeks while he looked the younger man up and down. It wasn’t hard to assume that there was something brewing there. Up until that day, he’d seen Daryl as a hot-tempered redneck with a hair thin trigger. Aside from the man’s bout of drunkenness at the CDC, all Rick had encountered from the man was snappy replies and sarcastic remarks. Which was probably deserved considering he handcuffed his brother to a roof. But still, Rick felt like that anger was a front for something else.   When he’d offered Daryl a way out, the man’s eyes had flicked to Pheonyx and stayed there. His response saying his plans fell through, was soft and almost entranced as he watched the tattooed man petting Kismet, waiting at the tree line for the archer. It was the first true bit of emotion that Rick had heard from him. He felt like, in that moment, he finally saw a glimpse of the real Daryl Dixon. 

The thud of the screen door behind him had Rick whirling around. He was greeted by the serious eyes of Hershel Greene. The man slowly made his way down the steps and over towards him. Rick had an idea what this was about and it made his stomach clench. The Greene’s had been extremely hospitable and had saved his son’s life without hesitation. But he also could read the apprehension on Hershel’s face anytime he was around them. The man didn’t want them here. And honestly, he couldn’t blame him. While his group was mostly able-bodied, they were technically more mouths to feed. And the medical issues in the group just kept mounting on top of each other. He wouldn’t be surprised if Hershel had gone through the majority of their first aid supplies on Carl alone. Rick needed to tread lightly. Pushing Hershel wouldn’t be a good idea. The man was kind and godly but also strict and stubborn. 

“We could give you more space. Set up over by the barn.”, Rick offered. His hands were sweating against where they rested on his hips. 

Hershel shook his head. “No. No need for that. Better you stay close to the house.”, the old man looked down and let out a small sigh, “I don’t say this easily, Rick. We don’t normally take in strangers. I can’t have your people thinking this is permanent. Once you find this girl, and your boy’s fit for travel. I expect you’ll move on. We need to be clear on that.” The look Hershel gave him was no nonsense. Arguing with him wouldn’t do anything. He could change his mind but he knew that he needed to ease the man into the idea. So he kept silent, just lowering his gaze. He expected the conversation to end there, but was surprised when Hershel spoke again. 

“And, Rick?”

He looked up at Hershel and the man continued, “If you’re going to be on my property, your people will have respect for my family. Every one of them.”

Rick immediately knew he wasn’t speaking in general about the people in his household. There was a specific person he was hinting at. Pheonyx. Over the past 24 hours, Rick’s only thoughts had been on his son and Sophia. He hadn’t had time to really think about much else. All he knew was that Pheonyx had offered his blood to Carl without hesitation. That he had sat with Carl, held his hand, sang to him despite the fact he was unconscious. Hershel had saved his son’s life, but Pheonyx had nurtured his soul.  So, when Shane made snide comments about Pheonyx’s gender, alluding to him being born a girl, Rick was surprised. Not just because he had never heard such disgust in his best friend’s voice before but mostly because he hadn’t realized or cared. Hershel and Maggie both referred to Pheonyx with male-centric language. Stepson, brother, he, him. So that’s what he thought of him with. And his family would know better than anyone. It wasn’t up to him to police someone else’s identity. The vitriol in Shane’s words had made him sick. Pheonyx had helped save Carl’s life. Shane should at least have the decency to show him respect for that, no matter what his views on trans people were. 

Hershel looked him dead in the eye, his voice was stern, “I don’t care what your personal feelings are or what your personal beliefs may be. Everyone is allowed their own opinions. But you will reign in your people. Shane especially. My son has had to deal with too much in his life to have to deal with hate in his own home. If I hear another malevolent word from any of your people, I will have no qualms kicking you off my property. The boy can stay until he is healed, you and Lori as well, but all the others will have to leave.” 

Rick nodded without hesitation. “I understand. I’ll talk to them. Pheonyx helped save Carl’s life. I won’t tolerate anything but respect for him. You have my word.” 

There was a look of relief in Hershel’s eyes but he just jerked his head in acknowledgment before walking away. The words he spoke to the old man were true. It didn’t matter that Shane was his best friend. He would talk to him. He wouldn’t permit him to speak badly to or about Pheonyx. The younger man helped save his son. He owed him that much, if not more.

Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @yoongibaybee @edgyboi10000

[mr-i-dont-care-sick]

I had a dream about madness combat and decided to transform this fanfic because I really liked the idea

sorry if the reader is sounding like an oc

Madness combat x artist reader

well, it all starts in a mission of the three Grunts, Hank, Deimos and Sanford, things were going well in the mission, Deimos and Sanford walked out of the facility with the mission ended, but there was no sign of Hank around, Deimos ends up finding the man of the red glasses that looked at a wall

—Hey Hank, what are you looking at over there?— Deimos says approaching Hank, he notices Hank's gaze and looks at the wall —what the…— Deimos says dropping his cigarette from his mouth, Sanford approaches confused by his friend's reaction and looks at the wall

the wall had a large drawing of a Chinese dragon, it was not common to find colors other than black, gray and red in snow, but that drawing had several shades of blue, it was something very unusual for them even more because they did not know what kind of creature that was it, their heads filled with questions, “why would AAHW draw this?” “how did they do?” “What creature was that?” and many others, Deimos decides to take a picture of the drawing to try and find out more about it later, Sanford notices something in the corner of the written drawing and reads it aloud —made by: mysterious artist— they decide to leave after taking the photos and sending them to the Doctor, they drive to the base itself with one more question in mind..."is it an ally or an enemy...?" Doctor looked at the images surprised and intrigued, how could this person have approached the installation without being noticed? AAHW wouldn't be the type to paint their own walls with the drawings, the painting seems to have taken a while to do and logically wasn't easy, how did I manage to take so long to do the drawing without getting caught? There were many questions and unfortunately no answers, he couldn't find anything that was that creature, he was curious to know more about that unknown artist

Y/n POV

i was walking through the nevada lands and i walk into my favorite fast food store

—will you want the same as usual Y/n?— the store attendant Carl says, I nod and he gives a slight smile and takes my order, I just wait for my order to be ready while I listen to a conversation that caught my attention -Did you hear? there's someone painting the walls of the places—a grunt talks while eating his Burger—the one who painted the wall of one of the AAHW facilities? yes i heard, i wanted to know what they mean— another grunt says sipping his soda, I smile under my mask, it's been a while since I came to this world, I wasn't from here, this world was very colorless and lifeless so I decided to show some art, I saw an installation called AAHW and made a friend there, but I didn't join, I found out a lot about this AAHW, I thought the things they did were horrible so why not make fun of them a little? tonight I decided that I would provoke this AAHW and other of these presses, I learned to make some weapons that fit me to paint and fight, this world is not so different from mine…there are also presses that use people and don't care about their lives, I want to color this world and use my art to express

—here's your snack Y/n!— Carl smiles as he hands it to me, I wave a thank you to him and leave, I walk to an abandoned base, that's where I used to live, I climb up to the roof and eat my food

This world is a black and white chaos, but I'm going to fill it with color... and maybe... put an end to all this suffering.

I'm not sure what to do, I can edit this chapter and put more stuff or make a headcanons, tell me what you prefer, I hope you like it!

[spacerockwriting]

I just wanna show of some random bits of part 4 of Soft Bitch. Mostly the chaotic parts.

“So, middle school,” Mickey says, leaning against the counter. Finn’s been in and out of school for the last three weeks of the year, going to all sorts of doctors’ appointments, therapist appointments, and whatever else. On top of Ally’s speech, and Monnie’s new desire to start dance, their schedule is getting pretty full. “What the fuck do we do?”

“Pray Finn’s not the next King of the Southside?”

Mickey laughs. “Kid’s already getting that title.”

--

“Finn doesn’t have tits. If anyone needs those things, it’s Ian.”

Ian lightly swats his husband, causing Trevor to laugh. “God that tattoo is ugly.”

“Who the fuck put tits on a portrait of their dead mother?”

“I know!” Trevor laughs.

--

“Mick, we gotta do something about this.”

“Leave Chuck Norris alone. It’s punk.”

“Mick,” Ian says, gently combing through their son’s curls. “He’s got scrambled eggs in his bangs.”

“Monnie had oatmeal in her hair, and I don’t see you making a fuss over that. Thought we were being all gender affirming and shit?”

“Mickey,” Ian says, shaking his head. “This isn’t about Ally being a boy. This is about you and your dumb obsession with their ginger hair.”

“It’s not an obsession.”

“I still remember your stupid expression when I rolled into prison with black hair.”

“That shit was fucking ugly, and you know it.”

“You still got upset when I shaved it.”

“Yeah, well, you looked even more fucking insane with it growing out, but damn, could’ve left a little bit. Didn’t want anyone thinking I was banging one of Terry’s fucking racist assholes.”

--

Ian shakes his head. “Kinda wanted to actually know what I was learning. How I tested out of English.”

“I married a fucking nerd.”

“Newd!” Ally repeats. “Fucking newd!”

--

Mickey lifts her up, placing her on the counter. She stands up on little feet, taking off her plastic tiara. Beaming, she shoves it in Mickey’s hair. “Baba pwincess,” she says, loudly.

“Monnie, careful,” Ian calls from across the room. “And yeah, Baba’s a pretty princess.” Ian beams, taking his phone out to take a picture.

“You send that to Lip and I will end you,” Mickey threatens. But the threat is empty.

--

There’s even more laughter and Carl is the one who blurts it out. “Did Debbie fuck a Milkovich? ‘Cause I think Finn’s more like Mickey than us.”

“Well, there was Sandy,” Mickey adds.

“You know what I mean.”

--

Ian grins at Mickey after they put Finn to bed. “Now I remember why I liked these books.”

“Matt Dillon’s fucking hot?”

“Yeah, and his characters always remind me of you, all bad boy and in juvie and shit.”

“Hey, isn’t he trying to get with a redhead in one of the movies?”

Ian snorts, covering his mouth. “He is you.”

Mickey smirks. “Least I’m one of the hot guys. Not unlike that fucking Justin Beiber or whatever that you liked.”

Ian scoffs, playfully swatting at Mickey. “Justin Timberlake. Justin Timberlake,” he repeats. “Do I need to bring out that chart that Mandy and I made back in high school?”

--

. He prefers plugging in the inflatable Santa, the penguins, and the humping reindeer décor. They’re supposed to be grazing grass, but Mickey prefers them grazing ass and Ian doesn’t care either way. Plus, the kids think it’s funny, so there’s that.

“You’re not even hanging lights,” Ian says, stepping down the ladder. “You’re just watching my ass.”

“Ladder says do not leave patrons unattended. Just following basic safety, Man. Isn’t that what Tommy always says on his worksite?

--

anyways, enjoy those little excerpts! Just some bits I love that don't showcase the plot much.

[storycraftcafe]

SO what’s your process for creating characters? Especially supporting cast who are important but not influential in the plot? Walk me through it!!

Hey Buddies!

Hokai so Character Creation is a big big ass subject and a very important one. To quote Chuck Wendig: “Stories are soylent green, they’re made of people”. And if you take even a glance at fandoms you’d see how important characters are to readers and fans. Characters are how we step into story and these wonderful worlds writers create, they’re what we connect to, empathise with and so on.

I like to break character’s down into three groups: Main Characters, usually our hero, main villain, any POV characters or live interests. Side Characters, the protag’s friends, allies, love interests, smaller antagonists. And supporting characters, everyone else that fills up the world and makes it feel alive and gives it depth. 

So if we’re gonna focus on side and supporting characters, there’s a few key things to remember:

Characters aren’t just people, they’re tools in our storytelling kits. While we should seek to make them feel alive, we need to remember their purpose and function in the story. 

All characters save for the once and done ones you make up on the fly like that barista with a bad attitude or the kindly bus driver should have some depth, positive traits, flaws and at least a suggestion of change, if only in how readers and pov characters see them. 

Draw from life but don’t copy from life. 

It can be so easy to slip into cliche and offensive stereotypes so it’s vital to be mindful about what kind of character’s you’re putting on the page and how you’re using them. Some stories are not yours to tell and that’s okay.

Finally to be perfectly honest, a lot of this for me is kind of instinctual. Some of my favourite side characters popped up out of nowhere and had at most a sentence in my outline telling me their purpose. But I’ll try to explain my thought process.

When I’m planning or writing a story and the need for a Side character comes up (a protagonist’s friend or neighbour, coworker, boss,) someone that’s gonna have some influence on the pov character, that we’ll see more than once I try to settle on their purpose.

Are they an ally? A friend? A helpful neighbour? Are they this asshole down the street that has conflicts with the pov character? A henchman of the bad guy? Are they there to help or hinder or be a foil or a mirror?

Say we have a protagonist who is kind of isolated and withdrawn. She’s gone through some shit, has trauma from before the story but their character arc isn’t about struggling through the dark alone but learning to make bonds, to finding their own people and community. They’re gonna need some nice side characters to help with that. Someone she can bump into a lot and form those beginning connections with.

Off the top of my head that means neighbours, either immediate or down the street/hall, people that frequent the same places she will like the cafe on the corner, wherever she works, etc. Let’s go with neighbours. Maybe… Older nosey neighbours, the kind that’d chat over the fence or bustle by to say hi and welcome and offer something baked.

Right off the bat, I get a bunch of ideas, my brain throwing at me examples I’ve seen or read of before either as they are or recombined into new ones. I see Wilfred from Dr Who, Carl from Up, a bunch of Karens (male and female) from social media, people that I’ve known in real life, including my own Grandmother. And I think about this character’s purpose.

 I want them to be an ally, someone that helps my protag along their personal journey. That’d mean they’d have to be friendly, warm, good hearted, but a bit nosey and probably very stubborn to get past the walls my protag has thrown up. My mind clicks onto the archetype of a grumpy old man, all bristle and hot air but caring. No nonsense, no bullshit, calls it like he sees it but not tactless.

I like this idea but I don’t stop here. I keep poking at it like I’m building something from lego without a plan, putting things on, taking them off. Maybe this guy is a widower and just as lonely as our protagonist. Maybe a grandfather estranged from family but wishing he could have done better. Maybe his wife is still alive but they never had kids.

Eventually, I settle on this idea of the two old love birds, no kids but they like to take in strays. Meaning they keep an eye out for anyone alone and offer a welcome. Nothing pushy, just the ‘neighbourly thing’ to do. Then it’s just what they look like (He’s broad and blocky, strong in his youth, and she’s small and petite with eyes magnified by thick glasses), what their basic personality is like (he’s a grump but sincere, she’s sweet but mischievously sassy and they bicker for fun), maybe things like heritage(Italian-American, Irish, maybe Eastern European), health concerns(he has arthritic knees and a replaced hip and uses a cane, she maybe had breast cancer), habits, etc and that’s enough for me to go off.

I only really understand my characters after I’ve written them for a bit, so try them out in a few scenes and see how you like them.

This is also where I double check my work for stereotypes, especially when working with identities and so on beyond my own experience. I highly recommend you double check with people belonging to those groups, or refer to one of the blogs on tumblr that act as a point of reference like WritingWithColor. Be humble and open to learning with this.

If you really want to go further, you can give them an arc of their own.  Maybe they have their own struggles you wanna touch on that could flesh out the story, give your protagonist a chance to do something in return. Maybe a problem that reflects the main conflict but on a micro scale. But the trick here is the audience doesn’t need to see all of it, just the changes that matter and serve the greater story.

And of course as always, sometimes my plans explode in my face and I have to adapt. I’ve made these characters up on the fly when I realised I needed one, I’ve also cut them from the story or combined two or even three into one, or I realised I needed a friend to be an enemy. I’ve even had to take really minor supporting characters and upgrade them, or downgrade side characters.

To create very minor supporting characters, I do the same just with way less detail. 

Maybe my protag is taking the train and there’s another passenger that’s kind of a rude entitled business guy and we get to see some tasty petty revenge or he just makes a bad day worse. Or there’s a cafe our protag always goes to and there’s this barista she maybe says hi to and shares compliments with who notices a change for better or worse.

These super minor characters I really just make up as I go and as I need. They’re really simple and I like to use them to emphasise a mood I’m going for, to break it up or to highlight just how my POV character is feeling or in denial about.

Like any part of writing , character creation is a skill you can practise and develop over time. 

And one part of this skill I am constantly mindful about is making these characters diverse, but respectful. With these simple ideas it’s so easy to slip into harmful stereotypes and I feel writers have a responsibility to be as mindful as we can, to constantly learn and try to do better.

If you made it this far, go get yourself a treat, have some water and feel free to ask more questions if you have any.

 Good writing!