#a small part of me actually wants to write this but like

[glowettee]

✧ if it doesn't align with the dream life, it's a distraction ✧

hey lovelies!! 🦢

omg, so, i was literally journaling last night & this phrase just hit me like… so hard. "if it doesn't align with the dream life, it's a distraction." i had to stop writing and just sit with that for a min.

because honestly? i've been feeling so scattered lately. like my energy is going in a million directions but none of them are taking me where i actually want to go. and i realized that's exactly what happens when we don't have clarity on our it-girl blueprint.

so what even is an it-girl blueprint? it's not just aesthetic or vibes (tho those matter too!!) but it's this deep knowing of who you're meant to become. it's that version of you who wakes up excited, who feels aligned, who's living in her dream apartment with her dream career and her dream people. she exists!! she's waiting for you to become her!!

this post is a bit different from my most recents, i wanted to take a little tinyyy break from my pop culture series', like the pll x glowettee and vampire diaries x glowettee series' and just focus more on self-improvement again. i also wanted to take a break from the overwhelming aesthetics i've been using in my posts, and justtttt write~~ (no small text, no crazy colors, just my thoughts) and i realized that distractions have been very prominent in my life lately... so i wanted to address it in this post, and some possible solutions <3

✧ what's actually distracting you? ✧

okay so grab your journal rn and let's get super real about what's pulling you away from your dream life, feel free to use these prompts:

that situationship that makes you feel anxious every time they text (you know the one)

the hours of scrolling that leave you feeling empty inside

saying yes to plans when your body is literally begging you to rest

the "friend" who always has drama and makes everything about them

that project you started because you thought you "should" but you actually hate

staying in that job/class/situation because you're scared to disappoint someone

comparing your chapter 1 to someone else's chapter 20 (guilty!!)

i've been doing this work myself and it's kinda scary how many things i was pouring energy into that weren't actually taking me anywhere i wanted to go??

✧ getting clear on your actual dream life ✧

before we can align with our dream life, we need to know what it actually looks like! not what instagram or your mom or society thinks it should look like, but what YOU want.

some journal prompts that helped me:

when do i feel most like myself?

what activities make me lose track of time?

who makes me feel seen, safe, and supported?

what would my perfect morning routine look like if i had zero obligations?

what kind of spaces make me feel calm and inspired?

what would i do with my time if money wasn't an issue?

what parts of my current life would i keep even if i could change everything?

i did this exercise last weekend and realized that so many things i was chasing weren't even in my dream life blueprint?? like i was stressing about getting into this super competitive program but when i really thought about it, it wasn't even aligned with what i actually want. wild.

✧ how to actually make decisions that align ✧

okay, so here's my little framework for making choices that actually build your dream life:

the body check: before saying yes to anything, check in with your body. does it feel expansive and light, or contracted and heavy? your body literally knows before your brain does!!

the future self question: what would the version of you who's already living your dream life do? she knows!! trust her!!

the energy audit: does this person/activity/commitment give you energy or drain it? only say yes to energy-givers (this one changed my life omg)

the alignment test: ask yourself "does this move me closer to or further from my dream life?" be brutally honest!!

the joy metric: if it doesn't bring you joy or lead to joy, why are you doing it?? (unless it's like… taxes or something lol)

✧ how to let go of the distractions ✧

this is the hardest part tbh. because we get attached to things even when they're not serving us! here's what's helping me:

remember that saying no to something is saying yes to your dream life

start with the easiest distractions first (for me it was unfollowing accounts that made me feel bad)

create little rituals around letting go (i write things down and then burn the paper)

remind yourself that outgrowing things is part of becoming

be gentle with yourself when you slip back into old patterns (we all do it!!)

i had to let go of a friendship a few months that was taking so much energy, and it was really hard but also?? i suddenly had all this space to focus on things that actually matter to me.

✧ your dream life alignment practice ✧

here's a little daily practice i've been doing:

morning: set an intention to notice what aligns and what distracts

throughout the day: when making choices, ask "dream life or distraction?"

evening: celebrate the aligned choices you made + gently note the distractions

it's not being perfect!! it's becoming more conscious of our choices. because every tiny decision is either building your dream life or… not.

i've been doing this for about three weeks now and i already feel so much clearer and more focused. like i'm finally moving in one direction instead of being pulled in a million different ones.

remember: you deserve your dream life. and it starts with choosing it, over and over, in all the tiny moments.

question from mindy:

what's one distraction you're ready to let go of? and one aligned action you're ready to take? (feel free to send me a message in my inbox, or just reblog answering this question.)

xoxo, mindy 🤍

[thaltro]

Was there an in-between point of passive! Nightmare’s normal face and Atrophy’s…yknow…. Like, how Atrophy eyeball??

(I’ve been thinking too hard about how Nightwatch versions of crossmare errormare or killer mare shipkids would look like because the design style for is au is just too interesting not to, but there’s the issue of how the hell to project how alien Atrophy looks onto a ship kid. Like, with how cross’ scar is longer and across his face maybe nightwatch incubux would have a row of the “teeth” (from the inside of Atrophy’s pupil) protruding out from across his face. Or a nightwatch tenpatch would have the inside of their left eye have the same design as Atrophy’s face hole.)

Here’s the transition between passive and corruption for atrophy.

Also some of his common faces at the bottom but that’s extra unrelated art

Now Atrophy has no bones or ecto or anything he originally should have. He is just goo, very acidic toxic goo. So if he were to have a baby then that child would probably be incredibly chronically disabled because the goo would eat the organic parts of the child. Atrophy naturally is supposed to present more mold and fleshy like, he just over 700 years now has the resources and practice to shape his body perfect to how he wants it. But a baby wouldn’t so they would look like a uh,, body horror baby. Random sets of teeth in random facial holes and large cysts of painful acid. Small plant like mold growths on their face like whiskers.

An ugly baby most likely. If that baby grew up it would be interesting to see how it looks and develops it’s form.

More realistically Atrophy would kill it as he doesn’t like ugly things, or put it in a little jar in a display case.

Now for shipping

Yk i actually did not write nightwatch with ships in mind believe it or not (with some exceptions). So it was, surprising to say the least when a lot of people talk about ships and nightwatch in my asks. Out of the three ships you mentioned only one is possible? Errormare, but even then Atrophy doesn’t like poor people and they virtually don’t interact. Killer is a slave to Atrophy and Atrophy would rather eat another tree then touch him. and Cross is very much dead (or so how I originally wrote him, but it seems like alot of people want to see cross in nightwatch so uh I’ll consider his life,, I’ll probably bring him back so I guess he’s alive?)

But also in nightwatch, babies are sometimes made through divine intervention. So I guess if creators wanted to fuck with them they would bless the world of nightwatch with a mold baby. Which again atrophy would kill or jar.

Sorry if my reply is a downer, I do enjoy your ideas for design! I think atrophy’s children of they were somehow alive and survived the jar and atrophy- would be a good opportunity for crazy designs like scar teeth (great idea). If they did carry on atrophy’s scar then I think it would be a good metaphor for generational trauma as that scar is just symbolic of his trauma. Idk there’s many interesting ways you can take that and I’m happy you’re thinking about nightwatch.

I do encourage waiting for the comic before shipping because,,,, well there’s a lot of graphic abuse and torture between a lot of characters who are commonly shipped together in the utmv fandom (not just killermare but more). No need to feel bad about this though, I’m not upset and there is no way for you to know that!

Please keep thinking of nightwatcg it makes me happy and I can’t shut up.

[car-o-line]

"Hi! Hello! Sorry for bothering you, but I have a request. It's okay if you don't want to, but I really like your headcanon, and it seems to be the closest to canon ❤

Anyway, could you write about Doey's reaction to the Reader (who I imagine as female) finding a guitar in Safe Haven and using it to sing a comforting or cheerful song to lift everyone's mood ?

Literally tysm for the compliment, ik i say that all the time but they really make me more confident in my writing😭 AND BEING THE CLOSEST TO CANON MADE ME KICK MY FEET ISTG😭😭😭

Doey with a fem!reader who sings and plays a song to the experiments

Ok, so I’m not gonna write everything that lead up to you meeting with Doey and getting into Safe Haven because it’s just basically how Player met him🤩

Poppy wanted you to get the Omni-Hand to fix the generator but Doey was more worried how tired you were, he thinks that even just killing one of those monsters needs a great nap but killing 5(I think) would need a whole rest day.

He was also worried about letting you out of Safe Haven too fast because of the Prototype, he was around there somewhere near Safe Haven so if you just left immediately after coming in he’d definitely get to you.

So alas, Poppy reluctantly agreed to Doey’s plan. There was nothing she could really do to stop him, I mean he’s like a 900 pounds of dough while she’s just a doll-

But she’ll get over it when you do get the Omni-Hand after resting.

Ands that’s how you got to where you are as of now, Doey insisted everyone should take a rest so that they can have the energy to play more games tomorrow(to run faster if yall get cooked by the Prototype), the toys weren’t too reluctant by the idea of sleeping. For they’re already exhausted from hunger and the pain they’ve endured.

And while sleeping away the hurt easier for others, some of the experiments didn’t have the same outcome.

“Doey...my head hurts, I can’t sleep with it like that.”

“Can I have an extra pillow? My leg is hurting when it’s low on the ground.”

“Too hungry to sleep..”

Clearly, a few of the experiments were having trouble falling asleep, or into a placid state. So you decided to try and relax them yourself. But what to use..?

“Y/n..what are you doing? Go back to the tent and get some rest.”

Startled by the blob of dough, you took a few steps backwards and accidentally bumped into a stack of various entertainment items of junk. You turned your head to look at the pile and noticed something that caught your interest, you gently picked it up.

“A guitar?”

“Seems like it to me!”

Staring at it you smiled and turned to Doey, asking if he thinks that the experiments would like a small song played for them to help them go to sleep.

He said they’d like it but he was hesitant about it, you were still so tired but you seemed so ready and pumped about it. And he couldn’t just say no to that.

So he slowly said you could and you immediately jumped at that opportunity to quietly get some of the still wide awake toys and try to get them to circle you as you sat on the ground with the guitar.

A few were confused, some interested, but gradually all of the remaining toys awake sat in front of you, Doey sat too, just in the back because he too was also curious about what you had in mind for them.

With all the others in front of you, you started to slowly play the guitar. A gentle melody, it was soothing to even the toys who couldn’t even get a blink of sleep.

And with one part of song you started to sing, softly and calmly yet so it looked so naturally, like you do that everyday.

Doey never knew you had played guitar or even sang before, he always just thought you were an employee who for some reason had excellent resilience. But he never thought you had hobbies, well actually. He knew you HAD hobbies, just it was that he never thought of what kind. It made him sad honestly, and he swore he’d think of you more as a friend and not as an acquaintance. Because with friends you know what they like, know what they don’t like, and know what they don’t care about. And he knew none of those.

Soon the experiments had fallen into a deep sleep with your song, you were pleased but even more satisfied when you saw a big thing of doughs eyes start to close.

“Goodnight Doey..”

Jack was obviously thrilled by your singing talent, it was clear he was when you started to sing and he’d try to hold in his excitement but failed miserably as he started to shout praises(Matthew had to cover his mouth so it wouldn’t spoke the experiments if they heard him-)

Matthew was neutral on it to be real, he definitely liked it don’t get me wrong but he thinks of it more as a hobby than a necessity. Though even with that he felt comforted when you played and sang, it made him feel like he was getting eased by a mother.

Kevin really did not care in the slightest at first, but once he saw how happy Matthew and Jack were he relaxed and begrudgingly tried to enjoy it himself to. He’d never tell anyone that though.

[honeyvettel]

43. fake dating | pecco/alex; crack treated seriously, bisexual disaster pecco bagnaia, set in 2025.; [2/?] (part one here)

the idea comes to pecco after the podium in jerez—not a drop of champagne in his bloodstream, but still lightheaded with adrenaline and the dull throb of third-place-frustration lodged under his ribs. he’s standing off to the side of the media pen, tuning in and out of questions he’s answered a hundred times in a hundred circuits, when to his left side alex bursts out into a laugh. pecco glances over without thinking—watches the way alex grins, head tipped back, his words tumbling out in rapid-fire catalan. he’s shining with victory, loose-limbed and smug. alive. that’s when it hits him. it’s a stupid idea. an objectively insane and potentially reputation-ruining idea. he doesn’t even like the guy that much. but maybe, that’s the only way that this could actually works. before he can talk himself out of it, pecco slips free of his pr handler and beelines for alex, catching him just as he’s ducking down the hallway with a water bottle in hand and that post-win bounce in his step. 

“i need a favor,” pecco blurts out, slightly out of breath. alex turns, lifting an eyebrow as his eyes flick quickly over him, with a mix of amusement and judgment that makes him too unbearably similar to marc. “if this is about letting you pass next race, i’m gonna need that in writing.” pecco rolls his eyes. “no. not that. something– weirder.” alex perks up at that, curious. he leans back against the wall, arms folding across his chest. “go on.” pecco opens his mouth, then closes it again. the words get stuck somewhere behind his tongue, hot with embarrassment. saying it out loud makes it real. and real makes it sound ridiculous. he exhales sharply. “so… my high school class is having this reunion dinner. in turin. and everyone’s bringing their partners. someone kind of—well, baited me into saying i had a boyfriend.” pecco winces; his fingers drag over the back of his neck, heat crawling up his ears. “which i don’t. obviously.” alex is fully frowning now, but at least he isn't doubling over or cracking some joke at pecco’s very casual, slightly accidental coming out. small mercies. “obviously,” he says at last, dry. “so where do i come in?” pecco looks down at his shoes, scuffs a dirty spot on the linoleum with the edge of his sneaker. “you’d be… the boyfriend.” there’s a beat of silence that stretches just long enough to sting. pecco swallows, thinks that if the ground opened up beneath him right now, he might actually step in willingly. but then alex blinks. “so you want me to pretend to date you?” 

pecco sighs, exasperated. “look, i know it’s weird, okay? but you’re not from the academy, so none of them would actually know you. and no offense, but marc is way too famous to be believable. one selfie, and i’m done.” alex actually snorts at that. “so i’m your plausible boyfriend. great.” “you can say no,” pecco shrugs, almost sheepish. alex tilts his head. “do you even like me?” that makes pecco blink, caught off guard. “what?” “you barely speak to me,” alex says, not unkindly, just matter-of-fact. “i’m pretty sure you’d rather eat gravel than hang out with me off-track.” pecco looks up, meets his eyes. “well, that’s the point,” he says, candidly. alex laughs again, confused. “that’s your pitch?” pecco presses his palm to his forehead, dragging it down his face. “i’m saying— it works because we’re not close. no one would think we planned it. if i show up with you, it’ll look real. like— messy real, you know. people won’t expect chemistry from us.” alex stares at him for a second. “that’s the worst logic i’ve ever heard.” “but you’re considering it,” pecco points out, quietly. alex leans back against the wall, tips his head up and closes his eyes like he’s communing with some higher power for patience. then makes a small, considering noise in his throat. “hmm. i mean, i could say no,” he muses, lazy and just a little evil. “or… you could let me pass at le mans, if the situation calls it. fair trade.” pecco groans out immediately. “alex.” “i’m joking,” alex says, pushing off the wall. “mostly.” he walks over, towel still around his neck, and pecco straightens instinctively, unsure if he’s just been played. alex stops in front of him, close enough that pecco catches his faint scent of sweat and cheap sports drink. “alright,” alex says, a little softer now. “i’ll do it.” pecco blinks, startled. “you will?” alex lifts his shoulder. “sure, why not. besides”—he tilts his head—“this way, i get to figure out what makes the great pecco bagnaia tick. call it strategy.” he grins, sharp and teasing, but there’s less mockery in his tone and more—curiosity. pecco doesn’t quite know what to do with that. alex claps him once on the shoulder, and starts to walk away, already pulling out his phone. “send me the details,” he says at the end of the corridor. “you’re buying dinner though.”

[holdmytesseract]

daryl dixon x fem!reader

🪶 part one

warnings for this part: twd stuff? thirst - a lot, daryl has a man bun and is an absolute cutie patootie, swear words, teasing?, carol and daryl being best friends, cliffhanger?

word count: 3,5k

a/n: this lil' mini-series is based on this post @ellasdixon made. i actually just planned to write a thirst oneshot, but well... my writer brain decided there had to be way more plot, so... i hope y'all enjoy this!

a big shout-out goes to @fictive-sl0th for helping me along! oh, and @dixonsdarkelf , of course for your guidance with the poem!

disclaimer: a few lines in this are not mine. it's from the series, obviously. i just used them for the plot. masterlist 🪶 EoH Masterlist

LITRM Masterlist 🪶 Daryl Masterlist

The first time you had seen him was all those years ago, when he and his group 'raided' your camp for all the guns you possessed to fight the Saviors. He had been the one who tied your hands with that uncomfortable, scratchy rope. Daryl - like the woman with the katana addressed him - had been kneeling in front of you on the rough, earthy ground. One big, work-worn hand had captured your smaller ones around the wrists, while the other worked to wrap them up with the rope. His long chestnut brown curls had fallen into his face; preventing you from seeing his stunning blue eyes. He hadn't said much during the task at hand. Nothing but a few grunts. Your eyes had been stuck on him the entire time; entranced, stunned, enchanted.

It had been only a short encounter. A small touch. A fleeting moment - and yet you remembered everything. It was like engraved in your mind.

Now, Daryl stood merely a few yards away from you on the sandy underground of the beach in Oceanside - your home, so many years later. The memory from your first encounter was still vividly present, like you discovered. Sure, you had seen him before after you first saw him. Quite a few times actually, but most of the times only fleetingly. This... This was different.

The archer had passed you by with a soft touch on your arm and a 'Hey, Y/N, ya good?'. You wanted to answer him casually, but when your eyes met his and the wind carried his scent to you - a mix of smoke, leather and something earthy and musky, your mind went blank. Mostly. All you were able to think about was that damn moment all those years ago and suddenly crashed those warm, fuzzy feelings you had thought dead full force into you again.

Apparently had the crush you developed on the handsome archer never ceased. It had been just hidden; buried underneath a ton of other feelings.

You had barely managed to give him a proper answer; too overwhelmed by his sudden presence and the feelings running wild inside you. Now he was watching you (and everyone else) fighting off the walkers Jerry and Ezekiel released from that old shipping container to practice your fighting skills and test out different strategies. To say you had a hard time concentrating was an understatement. Your eyes were like glued to Daryl; unable to tear them away from him.

"Y/N?" Michonne's voice reached your ears and brain, but nobody was home at the moment. "Y/N. Hey, Y/N." Only when your friend grabbed your upper arm and gently shook you 'awake'. You blinked; focusing again and turned your head to face the woman. "Huh? What?" "Eyes up front, soldier. This is where it's at!" An uptight smile crossed your face as a reddish blush crept up your cheeks. "Uh, yeah, sorry, I just... I thought I saw something out there in the distance," you lied; referring to the ocean. You actually hated lying, but your brain just short-circuited in that very moment; not finding a different way out of this kinda embarrassing situation.

Michonne's eyes flickered over your face as if to analyze your reaction and expression. Then she turned her head up front again. A knowing smirk was on her face - unbeknownst to you. "Sure, Y/N, whatever you say."

It got only worse the following days from that point on. It seemed like everywhere you went, everywhere you looked, there was always Daryl. As if he was a ghost, haunting you. It wasn't your fault that you ended up sitting underneath a tree, which shielded you from the warm sun, your old notebook in hands and drawing the handsome archer working a few yards across from you. It was clearly his fault.

Well, at least now you had a... reason to constantly watch him. You just hoped that neither he, nor someone else noticed it. That's why you opted to 'hide' underneath that tree; providing you the perfect opportunity to fully indulge in the crush you harbored for him.

Most likely unbeknownst to him had chosen Daryl violence today - in your opinion. His old, kinda ragged brown jeans were still the same, sure, but they nevertheless didn't fail to accentuate certain... body parts as he moved around and helped Beatrice to fix that small boat with the leak. Therefore, that it was a quite warm day for Spring, he didn't wear that greyish black shirt he had worn yesterday, no, he wore a black one... With the sleeves ripped off - what caused his arms to be on full display. Logically. A perfect view on his tattoos. A perfect view on his bulging biceps. To say he had a pair of strong muscles was probably an understatement... Always carrying around a quite heavy crossbow was apparently showing. It was the first time you saw him with bare arms, and you positively had to swallow.

If you could, you would definitely take a bite out of those delicious arms. Just a small nibble.

The sweat glistening on those arms in the afternoon sun wasn't helping at all. If not, it made everything just worse. Just like the sweat on his chest - on which you caught a pretty good glimpse of as well, since the top two buttons were undone. Tanned skin - kudos to quite a few hot summers spent without sunscreen in the Georgia heat, adorned with a dark patch of chest hair curling over his pectorals and clinging to the slick skin there; leaving you thirsting for more.

Was there more underneath that shirt? A happy trail perhaps? Starting from just underneath his navel and leading straight over the softness of his stomach past his pelvis region straight to-

Your eyes widened as you caught yourself thinking this; a blush spreading over your cheeks. You quickly shook your head to try to get ahead of these... inappropriate thoughts.

But... Weren't all your thoughts kinda inappropriate at the moment?

Most likely, yes, and you definitely felt a bit bad for sexualizing him so hard, but you just couldn't help yourself. Your crush on the brave and selfless archer with his rough and tough edges but definitely with that heart of gold underneath the hard shell was beyond huge. Not that he'd ever feel the same way about you, but a girl could dream, right? Instead of acting on your feelings you chose to suffer in silence; afraid of making a fool out of yourself.

You sighed softly and gave his shirt on your drawing a last pencil stroke, before you redirected your attention back to Daryl; now focusing on his handsome face.

And you really thought things couldn't get worse, but like so often before you got proven wrong...

Those eyes... Those beautiful, breathtaking blue eyes... You were sure you could drown in them - and you wouldn't even complain if you did. It made you kinda sad that you just possessed a pencil to draw and not any colors. Such eyes deserved to be seen.

Daryl's beard hadn't changed much. Except that the fine hairs got a little bit more gray in them now - and you would lie if you said that it wasn't hot. His shoulder-length, chestnut brown hair hadn't changed as well; was still one of your favorite features of him.

Your hand which was literally glued to the sheet of paper on your lap seemed to work on its own accord, as you kept on drawing the handsome man. But suddenly, he stopped at his task at hand to rummage through the pockets of his pants. Once Daryl had found the object of desire, he did the unthinkable. It caused your eyes widen to the size of plates...

He tied his long curls together into a man bun.

Your jaw dropped; brain on the verge of collapsing. The man across you looked even prettier now - something you didn't think was possible. Until this very moment. It suited him to perfection. You had always thought his long hair to be sexy. But Daryl with a man bun was just devastatingly hot. You'd even go as far and say it was a panty dropper.

"You'll catch flies if you keep on staring at Daryl like that." The sudden voice urging to your ears from your left managed to burst the dreamy bubble around you. You blinked and quickly clapped your mouth shut again; head snapping into the direction of said voice. Michonne was standing beside you; arms crossed over her chest with a smirk on her lips. "W-What?" You squeaked, then quickly cleared your throat. "I-I wasn't staring. I was just... in thoughts," you stated; trying to somehow get out of this kinda embarrassing situation. "You weren't staring at him?" You shook your head, acting innocent like a well-behaved school girl. "No." The woman raised a suspicious eyebrow at you, but stayed quiet. Michonne just eyed you for a long moment in silence, "If you say so..." before she moved to sit down beside you. "What are you drawing?"

You instantly blushed; clutching your notebook against your chest. "Uh, nothing." "Nothing?" "Nothing important," you corrected and hoped Michonne would just buy your story and drop the topic, but deep down you knew that you blew your cover already at the very beginning of this conversation. Her smile widened. "Just Daryl, right?"

Well, shit.

Your silence was answer enough for the Alexandrian. "Show me? I won't laugh or judge you. Promise." You took a deep breath and looked at your friend, before hesitatingly handing your notebook over. Michonne's eyes scanned the paper; instantly widening. "Wow, Y/N, this... This is beautiful! Absolutely stunning."

A small smile spread on your face.

"Thanks..." The woman shook her head; still marveling at your art. "Amazing, truly..." She looked at the drawing for another moment, before handing the notebook back to you - and you really believed that you were off the hook now.

"You like him, don't you?"

Nope.

"W-Well, I-I-I...," you stammered; the reddish color returning to your cheeks. "Oh, you absolutely do," Michonne smirked, while you helplessly shrugged your shoulders. "H-He's a kind, cute guy..." "Yeah, you got it bad for Daryl," she giggled; placing a hand on your shoulder. "Why don't you tell him?"

Your eyes widened a second time.

"T-Tell him?! Are you out of your mind?!"

"Why?!" She chuckled. "Because he won't ever - not even in my wildest dreams reciprocate those feelings, Mich!" You exclaimed. "And I certainly don't plan to make a damn fool out of myself." You clapped your notebook shut and hugged it to your chest; resting your chin on your drawn up knees. The woman sitting beside you sighed. "Y/N... Life's too short for this bullshit. Every day could be our last, as hard as it sounds. We've got no time to 'think it over' or to 'wait another while'... Just do it. Tell him. Friends, family, hope and love is all we got those days. Thought you know that." With those words your friend stood up and left you alone again with your crush on the archer and those raging thoughts inside your head.

"Where is it... Where is it..." You mumbled under your breath as you rummaged through your stuff. You were on the search for your beloved notebook. You could've sworn that you placed it on your bedside table yesterday, but it wasn't there. It was nowhere, actually. Not on your bed or under the mattress. Neither in your backpack, nor in the box where your fishing gear and weapons were. It seemed like it just vanished - and you were close to losing it. This notebook meant so much to you. Held various memories, captured in the form of drawings and sometimes even poems. You didn't know what to do if you had truly lost it.

Frustrated, you made your way outside the hut; almost crashing into Cyndie. "Woah, Y/N, carefully." She was carrying a crate with fresh fish. "S-Sorry," you apologized instantly and rubbed your left upper arm. The leader of your group frowned. "Are you okay? You seem... absentminded and worried." "Yeah, I'm good. It's just... I can't find my notebook..." Cyndie knew how much value this plain little object had for you. "I'm sorry. I hope you'll find it again. Look around the camp. Perhaps you forgot it outside somewhere and somebody found it. I'll keep my eyes open, okay?" You smiled softly at her. "Thanks." Cyndie gave you a compassionate smile in return, then passed you by.

Following her advice, you started to search the camp. It just had to be here somewhere...

"Tara woulda been proud," Daryl stated, while walking side by side with Michonne through the bustling camp. "Mhm, hope so," answered the Alexandrian leader with a smile. "It's good to bring the kids also... Let 'em see the ocean for the first time." "Yeah, I know one idiot that woulda loved this." Michonne's smile even widened as she gently bumped Daryl's upper arm with her fist, causing the crossbow-wielding archer to smile as well.

The two friends kept walking in silence, before Michonne spoke up again. "Hey, what you got there?" She asked; noticing in the corner of her eyes the not very subtle book which peeked out of Daryl's back pocket of his jeans. "Oh, uh, tha'..." He reached behind to retrieve the item, "Found it underneath a tree." and handed it over to his friend. Michonne inspected the paperback sized book. Her eyes widened. She knew that book. It was yours. The conversation she had with you yesterday immediately flooded her brain again.

"Have you looked inside?" Daryl shrugged. "Nah, not really. Jus' flipped through the first few pages... Lotta drawings 'n some poems or sum'thin'." The woman smiled; unable to resist the urge to help you and Daryl along. Sometimes you had to push them into the right direction, right? "It belongs to Y/N," she said; turning her head to face her friend. "Yeah? Really? Didn't know she could draw like tha'... 'S real good." "Mhm... You should take a look at her last drawing," Michonne said; still smiling like a Cheshire cat. Daryl frowned. "Why? 'S her personal stuff. Been already snoopin' 'round too much." The Alexandrian leader stopped in her tracks to pat the archer's shoulder, "Do it. Trust me." before she walked away.

Daryl was quite confused about his friend's behavior. A frown stretched across his forehead. Nevertheless, did he decide to follow her advice and take a look at the last drawing. Once he reached said page, his eyes almost widened to the size of plates; jaw dropping. The drawing wasn't just anything or anyone, no... It was a drawing of him. A beautiful one at that. Very detailed and so realistic, as if you had taken a photograph of him. Just in black and white. The only color this piece of paper possessed was an oceanic blue. His eyes. The archer smiled softly; feeling honored that you'd draw him. He didn't question yet why. But then he noticed the small text written underneath the drawing...

'Your eyes so blue, just one view enough to sink and drown. Can only think of you etched into my mind like a tattoo. Is this what love feels like? Then never wake me up and let me wander in this dream of mine, too afraid to cross that line.'

The archer stared holes into the written poem; totally taken aback. He wasn't stupid. He knew what those words apparently meant - and they caused his brain to malfunction. A woman. Apparently in love. With him?! How was he supposed to react now? Clapping the notebook shut again, he quickly stowed it away in his back pocket again, before it got too real for the archer.

He carried the small item around with him for days. It almost felt like it was burning a hole into the fabric of his tattered jeans. It was always present in his mind. You were always present. It didn't help that he often saw you. Constantly. Everywhere he looked, there was always you. He knew he should give you the notebook back, but he was afraid. What was he supposed to say anyway? He just didn't know how to react or what to do. And when he left Oceanside with the others to return to Alexandria, Daryl felt utterly guilty. So guilty and so helpless, that he did the only thing his brain was telling him seemed right to do... Ask his best friend for help.

"I feel like there's a reason you took me on that hunting trip. Am I right?" Carol's voice urged to his ears from behind him. He swallowed. He should've know that the woman looked right through him. She knew him like the back of her hand. No wonder after all those years spent together in a apocalypse... "I can literally see the gears turning in your head, Daryl." He stopped; Carol coming to stand beside him, while Dog already trotted ahead. "So there is," she stated finally. "You gonna tell me or do you need another while to come around?" Daryl scoffed and shook his head, before he continued to walk. "Came out to hunt. Gonna do tha' first." A smile spread across Carol's cheeks, "Alright. Whatever you say, pookie." as she followed him and their animal friend.

About two hours later, the two of them sat around a little campfire they made; grilling a few of the fishes they had caught. "You're awfully quiet. More than usually," stated the gray haired woman after a long while of almost crushing silence. "Whatever it is that's on your mind, it must be bothering you a lot..."

It did. She wasn't wrong.

Daryl sighed. He came here to talk and he wanted to. It just didn't come easy to him. Things like that never did. Wordlessly, Daryl turned to rummage through his backpack and handed Carol your notebook. "Last drawing. Towards the end of the pages." His best friend gave him a curious but also questioning look, before she opened the book; skipping to the last drawing.

Like Daryl's before, Carol's eyes widened as well as she studied the page. Then she smiled. "I think someones got a huge crush on you." As if it wouldn't be obvious... "Let me guess who? 'Cause I think I know." The archer looked at the woman sitting beside him; leaned against the log with an almost shocked face. "Ya know?!" She nodded. "Y/N." Daryl's jaw dropped. "Wha'? How do ya know?" Carol chuckled. "Are you kidding me? It's obvious. Have you never noticed how she looked at you whenever the communities meet?" The clueless man blinked. "Of course you haven't..." Carol rolled her eyes but was still smiling. "That her notebook?" He nodded; swallowing hard and trying to find his voice again. "Found it... Quite a few weeks ago. Back when we were at Oceanside for tha' training..." "And you didn't give it back to her?" Daryl shook his head; chewing on the inside of his bottom lip and nervously fumbling with his fingers - and Carol knew. "You saw the drawing and now you don't know what to do, right?" Another nod, before a beat of silence passed between the two best friends - only the sound of the crickets and the crackling fire could be heard. "'S jus'... I dunno how... how to act on this. I've never..." He paused. "I've never thought someone could ever love me, ya know... Let alone a woman... 'M a stranger to all 'a this..."

Carol gave the man a compassionate smile; not judging her best friend and rather wanting to help. "Do you have feelings for Y/N?" Daryl thought for a moment, then merely shrugged his shoulders. "Dunno," he whispered; staring like hypnotized into the fire. "Okay, let me rephrase that question... What did you feel when you saw Y/N in Oceanside a few weeks back?" The archer thought again. He was trying. He really was. "Uh, happiness, I guess? Like... 'S always nice to see 'er. She's a kind woman." Carol nodded. "And what do you feel now when you think of her?"

Her best friend swallowed; the stone he had just found on the wooden ground beside him suddenly very interesting.

"Been lookin' at tha' drawing a lot... Been thinkin' 'bout her also a lot... 'S... I dunno. 'S like somebody handed me glasses 'n I see her different now tha' I wear 'em." Daryl paused. "When I think of 'er now, I... I think 'bout how, uh, great she is. 'N how... pretty. Feels like an itch in my, uh, stomach. A tickle or some flutter. Dunno how else to describe it." Carol smiled encouragingly at him. "That's good. Keep going. What else?" "Uh... Think my heart also beats, uh, faster. 'S like I've been runnin' a damn marathon or sum'thin'." "Mhm," the woman sitting beside him hummed. "Do you have the urge to see her? Talk to her? Be with her?" Daryl blushed; cheeks turning crimson. He nodded.

Carol's smile brightened, and she hooked her arm through his; patting the strong muscle. "Wha'?" The archer asked a bit confused.

"You're in love, Daryl."

🪶 part two

tags: @angelwings-crossbowstrings @belitoxx @fictive-sl0th @marvelcasey05 @loz-3 @whore4romance @stitchintimefan @bigbaldheadname @making-the-most-0f-it @erebus-et-eigengrau @km-ffluv @0-aubrie0 @sweetz1919 @mikaela-granger @secretsicanthideanymore @dilfdixon @txtttttttttttttt @dixons-sunshine @cakesandtom @mayday2007 @dixonsdarkelf @huntedmusicgardenn @ffsjustletmesleep @negansbestie

[quintessenceofdust88]

fuck it friday

(I STILL HAVE HALF AN HOUR OF FRIDAY OK SO I'M TECHNICALLY ON TIME) I was tagged by my darling @laundryandtaxesworld for this. Love you, Via! ♥ I've been working a bit on all of my fanfics the last few days, and I think I might get the groove of writing constantly again, so here's hoping hehe. For today, I'm bringing you the final part of ch. 1 of my fanfic Trail of Lies , so I hope you enjoy it! ♥ (USUAL WARNING FOR TRAIL OF LIES: THIS FANFIC CONTAINS BUDDIE, BUT IT IS BUCKTOMMY ENDGAME. IT STARTS OFF AS BUDDIE, BUT IT’S NOT REALLY BUDDIE-FRIENDLY NOR PARTICULARLY EDDIE-FRIENDLY. Therefore, I didn’t want to tag it as Buddie, because I know how annoying it can be to have ‘anti’ fics in your ship’s tag. If that’s sth that bothers you - either the Buddie content or the fact it’s not really a good depiction of their relationship - please feel free to skip this one, I absolutely understand)

The restaurant Eddie’s chosen is cozy and quiet, with exposed brick walls and dim lighting, a far cry from the usual burger joints where they go together on the rare occasions they go out. Buck understands the gesture for what it is, and he feels incredibly touched, and kind of bad for the doubts he shared with Bobby. It’s clear Eddie was just having a bad day, and it was unfair of Buck to question his excitement for their family because of it. 

Their meal is delicious, and so is the wine. They start the evening with small talk, and it’s fluid and smooth like it always is with them. He and Eddie were best friends before anything else, and Buck values that aspect of their relationship so much. Even though he’s aching to broach up the topic that’s been on his mind for the last few days, he waits. He wants Eddie to bring it up. 

“So, angel,” Eddie says eventually, putting down his wine glass and smiling at him, that smile that sweeps Buck off his feet. “Tell me what you found out about surrogates? Do you think it’s gonna work for us?”

Buck finds himself beaming widely at Eddie’s question. ‘For us’. That’s all he’s ever wanted, for the baby to be their plan. 

“Yeah, babe, I think it will” Buck says, and doesn’t stop himself from talking this time. 

He goes on a rant about all the options he found online and about how California law works for surrogacy cases. And while usually Eddie indulges Buck in his rants, listening and nodding at the appropriate times, now he’s engaged, he’s asking questions, he’s planning with him, and Buck’s heart feels full. “Before we go on about our surrogacy options, babe, shouldn’t we decide who’s going to be the biological father?” Eddie asks, taking a sip of his wine. “I mean… I have Chris, so if you want to do it, I totally understand”

“Actually, about that, there’s this thing they do at the fertility clinic where they mix up our materials”, Buck explains excitedly, kinda wishing he had his tablet there to show Eddie everything he has saved. “I… I kinda like the idea of watching our baby grow up and not knowing to which one of us he’s biologically related.”

Eddie gives him a beautiful smile at that, squeezing his hand once more. That’s the farthest he goes when it comes to public displays of affection, so to Buck it feels almost like a passionate kiss (or he wants it to, anyway). 

“Yeah, angel, I kinda like that idea too.” He declares. “Well, I guess that leaves us to decide the surrogate matter. I gotta be honest, Buck, I’m not sure about the whole agency thing. Feels kinda…”

“Impersonal?” Buck completes, and Eddie nods, to his relief. “Yeah, I thought so too. I really like the idea of it being someone we know, but I’m not sure who to ask”

Buck has given the matter a lot of thought in the last few days, his mind going through the women he knows and to whom he’d feel comfortable asking something like that. His first instinct, as most things in his life, would be asking Maddie, and he knows his sister would say yes. But Buck can’t do that to her, not when she had such a difficult time after Jee-Yun’s pregnancy. His niece is one year old and only now Maddie seems to be recovering, and Buck can’t risk doing that to her; can’t risk being the reason why she finds herself in that place again, and especially for a baby she won’t even keep.

And with Maddie out of the equation, Buck is at a loss. He would never ask Hen, he knows she has no interest in being pregnant, and he knows all about Karen’s struggles and how that is a sensitive subject for her. He had briefly thought about May, but she’s way too young and has far too much going on in her life for a pregnancy to uproot it. 

He relays all of those thoughts to Eddie, who listens intently, and then goes silent for a while. Buck goes silent himself, his mind frantically trying to figure out if he let anyone out, when Eddie talks. 

“I think I might know someone. We… we work together at the store, and we get along. I think she might be willing. It… It could be an option” He says, and Buck frowns, trying to remember if Eddie ever mentioned having a particularly close relationship to any of the store workers before, but coming up blank. Still, he doesn’t think his boyfriend would be inconsequential about something as important as their baby, so if this woman came to his mind, there must be a reason.

“Oh? What’s her name?” He asks curiously.

“Kim. Her name is Kim.”

Np tagging @bidisasterevankinard @unhingedangstaddict @moonydanny @frogsinflannel and anyone else who'd like to join! If it's already Saturday on your timezone, feel free to consider this an Inspiration Saturday tag. Love you ♥

[sammsays]

I lay, right now, in my bed, surrounded on both sides by extended garment racks. They have blankets thrown over them, one over both the high and lower bar, making a "wall" — one that exists only for the purpose of sound dampening.

They aren't supposed to be around my bed, I did not buy the equipment for this reason. They normally sit in the barely used living room, blocking out the windows that are already covered by blackout curtains. I did not buy them for that reason either.

I purchased them for sound dampening.

They surround my computer in the corner of my room whenever I do a voiceover for my youtube videos.

This is supposed to be my job. It has been 5 months since I've uploaded a video.

The sound walls surround my bed because I'm supposed to have done a voiceover today. After several months of writing, I've trudged together a script putting together the thoughts I had already figured out within two days of analysis. It has been so long into writing that I cannot tell if it's good, great, or terrible. I have no choice regardless, if I didn't make it now, I might suffer a complete breakdown.

I've worked half the script into a real, honest to god recording, the last truly difficult hurdle of the videomaking process. The first half took around an hour and 15 minutes of raw recording time, but the actual process was closer to 3 or 4 hours.

I had to set up the booth. The two sound walls were a major difference maker, but they aren't the whole story. They create a smaller "room" within my room, one that helps a lot, but I speak into a corner. That creates a ridiculous amount of echoes, so I need something to dampen it. My thickest blanket rests there right now, hung up on two 3M hooks by small holes I cut into the fabric with a knife. I always need to take several minutes to find the right side of the blanket before hanging it up.

The process of hanging it up is dangerous. The hooks are near the top of the ceiling, so I need to get on my rolling chair and carefully move my body just right to reach them. If I were to mess up and fall over, to break one of my monitors or my desk, collapsing everything on it, I might full on sob for the first time in months. I haven't failed yet, so I haven't broken down yet.

Instead, I failed in another way. I am laying in bed because I simply could not do the second half. I was supposed to do it two days ago, instead I had a breakdown. I did not cry, but I angrily ranted to my master. He kept looking for solutions, ways to help me do the task, but all I wanted from him was permission to skip it for now. He agreed.

This was probably the right thing. I didn't work for months because of burnout, and two of the most stressful days of work in a row isn't particularly fun. That being said, I probably could have done it. I didn't do it.

I'm surrounded on both sides by these ramshackle adult-blanket-fort walls. I still feel like a child between them, but now it's no longer fun. I can't be the adult that just pushes through.

The pillows I use to block the vent for ambient noise removal are still laying just next to the vents.

My giant blanket is still hanging from those hooks.

I am surrounded on both sides in bed by these towering walls.

I pushed the task off to Monday. These will hang with me over the weekend, constant reminders of my inability to exist as my idols. Monthly uploads, biweekly uploads, consistency, work ethic, any modicum of persistence and grit. All of it seems to have faded away entirely.

I am surrounded on both sides by garmet racks with blankets folded over it. I want to throw that thick blanket over top and make a canopy bed with it. I want to buy a star projector and cast a beautiful light onto it, witnessing galaxies spinning and twirling above me. I want to be consumed in the dance of the cosmos, granted the privilege of feeling anything other than one thing, an individual.

I've lost the feeling of ever being part of a whole.

I am surrounded on both sides by garment racks forming walls that cut off my vision. I can't see my computer from this angle anymore, only the TV that I put on to go to sleep.

I wonder if that separation could be helpful. I only have one room that I eat, sleep, work, and relax in. I cannot afford a place with an office and a bedroom. I'm told often that separation of spaces is crucial for productivity, that the mind needs it.

My computer is my space for work and relaxation. My life is largely spent online, speaking to others like me, all drowning in different ways and at different levels of intensity. The soft warm light of the LED strips in my room are probably worsening my eyesight. I should probably look 20 feet away for 30 seconds every 15 minutes to reduce eye strain. I should cook more of my own food rather than air frying so many frozen meals. I should invest in a better chair, the amount of money I'd save just from quitting doordash alone would cover it.

I don't do any of those things. Sometimes I try, sometimes it works for a while, never does it really stay.

I am surrounded on both sides in my bed by garment racks I purchased on Amazon. I work for Youtube. I am renting an apartment run by large landlords. I buy food and supplies from Walmart. The blankets I stole from my family, but they, too, were likely bought at a major department store. I hate capitalism, but my way of life fundamentally would not exist without it. Every creature comfort I possess, every excuse I have to be comfortable and inside comes as a direct result of being complicit in this system. I cannot escape it at the cost of changing my entire life.

I am surrounded on both sides by blankets from my childhood. I was the youngest of many kids, and my life largely existed through hand-me-downs. I got my family's clothes, my brother's games, my Dad's anger issues. My interests were largely formed by my conservative suburban existence and upbringing. What I wore, who I knew, what I did. Xbox was the most freedom I ever had.

Blankets were comfortable to me because it would hide my body. People could percieve less of me, so more of me was able to relax. I would never sit down without a blanket. I've worn each of these thousands of times.

I used to have a blanket I would always carry with me. It was a giant comforter, a nice blue color and with a pleasant texture to it. It always remained perfectly cold, never trapping too much of my body temperature. I was an overweight kid, so getting too hot from blankets would happen to me a lot.

One day, I told my mom to throw it out. I don't remember why, maybe some narrative in my head about growing up I learned from television. I still miss it to this day.

I am surrounded at all times by reasons to be unhappy.

Sometimes I do well in fighting it, other times my strength just doesn't hold anymore. I long constantly for the chance to have had a childhood that I could wish to go back to, but I didn't. I know that I should logically try to improve my life now, and most times I do. Sometimes I can't.

I want to be the kind of person to make a blanket fort, use a star projector, and get lost in the sights — to project them into my own mind, use it to light up my own thoughts, dwarf them by comparison. I want to be the kind of person to allow themselves to lose control, to see their small place and to forgive themselves for not being able to affect what happened to them.

I am surrounded on both sides by things that remind me of my failures, and I am allowing them to remain.

I might move them out tomorrow when I feel more up to it.

[meldy-writes]

Stupid Prizes

(TWD Daryl Dixon x reader)

Content Warnings: 18+ minors dni, explicit discussion of sex, handjobs and fingering.

I want to preface this by saying I’ve never written smut before, just read a lot of bad smut that disappointed me. This is pretty much plot with porn at the end, it’s a part 2 to a small bit of a larger fic I’ve been writing that I posted here a few months ago.

You can read it here:

Part 1

Summary: You were in the process of taking over your family’s farm from your father with the support of your step-brother and a close family friend in the form of your farmhand when the dead started walking. Now the people you loved were dying left and right and you were trying to keep what was left of your family together while your problems piled up. Your newest one: a group of survivors have set up camp on your property and are starting to outstay their welcome but you’re starting to think you wouldn’t actually mind if one or two stayed behind after the others are kicked to the curb. Your sister Maggie seemed fond of the one who’s good at the supply runs you were always nervous to send her on alone and the surly hunter you liked to rile up was just your type.

After a long day of making sure things on your farm were working smoothly, you had decided to relax (or at least try to) out on the porch swing, lazily rocking back and forth as you stared out towards the gate at the front of your property waiting for Maggie to return from the run she went on with the boy from that damned group. Though you tried to remind yourself she was full-grown and tough as nails just like you taught her to be, it didn’t stop you from agitatedly tapping your freshly painted nails (courtesy of Beth who got bored a little after lunchtime) on the sweating glass of ice cold lemonade you’d been nursing. The sun was going to start setting in an hour or so and she’d promised they’d be back before dark. If that Glen guy got your younger sister killed, you were going to wear his guts like a pashmina.

Your eyes wandered from the distant driveway to the camp on the far side of your yard. The group there were all sitting around a cooking stove, fresh venison stew bubbling over the flames. It was fairly far from your house, but your eyesight was good enough for you to identify the lone figure sitting a little ways away from the rest of the group, carving at an antler from the buck you killed the other day. Daryl Dixon was hot-headed, antisocial, and endlessly easy to rile up. He was your new favorite toy. You had noticed the way he looked at you almost as soon as you met him and his people and decided to have a bit of fun with him when you ran into him out in the woods. The way you'd made his cheeks turn all pink and had him floundering for words was just so satisfying, especially when it seemed like he always had something sharp and sardonic to say. You knew it’d be easy for you to yank his chain, he made no effort to hide how he watched you; it was like he didn’t expect anyone to ever pay attention to him—but how could you not?

His body was all hard muscle and he was so good with his hands, always working on something whether it be skinning something he’d caught, making arrows for that crossbow of his, working on his bike, or carving at something like that deer antler. Not only that, but he was an incredibly adept hunter—he was leagues better than you were, though you’d sooner chew glass than ever admit it—and though he didn’t seem to care one way or the other for anyone in his group and didn’t go out of his way to be nice to anyone, he was still in the woods every day searching for that little girl even when everyone else was giving up. Everything you’d observed about him told you he could only ever be an asset, not a liability like the others. Despite his short temper he was a good man with solid principles, great judgment, and exceptional skills—he was someone built for hard, honest work; of that much, you were certain. It was like you’d built him in a factory to be the perfect farmhand, something you desperately needed now that Otis was gone. You were fairly confident you could convince him to cut ties with his people and stick around once the others were sent packing. All you needed to do was give him the right incentive and boy, were you willing to give it to him.

If you couldn’t convince him that’d be a real shame, but hey, at least you could have a little fun with him while he was still around. “Hey,” a clipped greeting brought you out of your thoughts and you realized you’d been staring off into Daryl-related-space so long that Maggie had returned and you hadn’t even noticed.

“Howdy,” you said, trying to seem like you hadn’t been zoning out while thinking about big, rough, work-worn hands. Maggie didn’t notice you shift to sit up a bit in the swing, she was too busy taking the steps two at a time and trying to rush past you into the house. The tempo of her walk and the way her eyes kept to the ground had Big Sister Alarms going off in your head. You’d seen this behavior before. Though Maggie had left home for university after graduating high school, you’d stayed, having taken a couple gap years before attending Horticulture and Livestock Science courses at the community college nearby. You’d lived with her during the entirety of her teenage dirtbag phase after your dad remarried when she was underage drinking, smoking weed, shoplifting, and committing the most egregious sin of all—raiding your closet without permission. This march up the porch steps she was doing was so reminiscent of when she’d breeze past you on school mornings, trying to get out of the house before you could look up from your breakfast and notice she was wearing your favorite crop top.

“Pump the breaks,” you told her in an unhurried but suspicious tone that had her freezing with her hand on the screen door. She looked over to you like a deer in the headlights. You crooked your finger, “c’mere a second.” She took her sweet time taking the steps to stand in front of you, leaning against the porch railing in front of the swinging bench you were still rocking in. You looked her up and down before some movement behind her caught your attention and you spied Glen watching you both from a little ways down the driveway, where he was securing the horses they’d taken into town. When he realized you saw him he quickly clammed up and made a b-line for the camp under the trees. You felt a knowing grin stretch your face and Maggie let out a ’what?’ in a flat tone, trying to pretend she didn’t know what you could possibly want with her. You pointed at her. “You,” you said, pausing for dramatic effect, “had sex.”

She immediately broke, groaning in annoyance, “Jesus Christ, what, can you smell it on me?”

“No,” you said with a laugh as she moved to plop down next to you on the bench, making it jostle and sway in a chaotic manner for a moment. You debated whether you should tell her that she looked sweaty and guilty and that her shirt was all crumpled and haphazardly untucked, before settling on just pointing out the thing that had turned your inclinations into certainty. “When you left this afternoon he was trailin’ after you like a lost dog. Ever since you got back, though, his tail’s been waggin’ like it’s going out of style.” You nodded in Glen's direction, who had paused to look back at the two of you several times during his return to the group. You put on a cooing pout like you found him adorable. ”Such a sweet little pup. You’re gonna crush that boy if you’re not careful.”

“Alright, fine, yeah, we did it. Do you want a medal?” You snorted at her defensive sass, knowing she’d picked it up from you.

“Sorry for the third degree,” you appeased, “you know I have a chronic case of Nose-in-Business Disease.”

Maggie crossed her fingers and held them up reverently like she was in prayer. “Here’s hoping it’s terminal.”

“Ha!” You reached towards the table beside you and grabbed an empty cup. You handed it to her before taking the pitcher of lemonade and pouring her a glass. “Fuck you, too.” There was a quiet moment where the two of you just sat, sipping lemonade and swinging together. You slumped down a little and rested your head on her shoulder and in response she rested her head on top of yours. “So, is he your boyfriend now? Am I gonna have to give him the Bernadette speech we gave Jimmy?”

Bernadette was the biggest, fattest, meanest pig on your farm. When Jimmy had first started dating Beth, you and Maggie had cornered him, asked him to go on a walk, and then took him to the pig pen where you told him you’d chop him up and feed him to her if he ever hurt your baby sister. Poor thing had practically pissed himself. “No. Maybe. I don’t know,” Maggie replied tiredly, “Is it even worth wasting time thinkin’ about? You’re not gonna let him stay.”

You hummed jokingly like you were contemplating the idea. You were, actually, now that you got a look at the way his eyes longingly gravitated towards your sister. So far as you’d heard, he was good at doing supply runs. Sooner or later, Maggie would have to go into town again. If she had someone she trusted who could look out for her and genuinely cared about her safety and well-being, you’d feel a lot better about sending her out like that. “Well, I’m not gonna take in the whole litter,” you cover, “but we can keep one or two if you like. I mean, you’ve already given him a name and grown attached so there’s no helpin’ it at this point—but he’s your responsibility, I’m not takin’ care of him for ya. You’ll have to feed him, brush him, take him for walks—Oof!” you doubled over, some of your drink spilling onto the deck by your feet as Maggie elbowed you in the stomach.

A mean cackle fell from your lips before she caught something in your words. “Wait, hold on, one or two?” That sobered you enough to be able to respond to her own interrogation. “Do you have your eye on somebody?”

you made a noise of non-committance, “maybe.”

“It’s not Shane, is it? Because I know he seems like your type, but—”

You made a loud, protestant noise of disgust that had the camp across the yard looking up in alarm like something might be attacking you. When they saw Maggie laughing her ass off and you looking at her like she belonged in a padded cell they reluctantly returned to their own business, wondering what it was that had prompted such a visceral reaction from you. “No! What’s the matter with you? He’s so creepy! The way he acts around his best friend’s wife gives me the heebie jeebies—and that haircut is not doin’ him any favors. I liked the curls he had when he first got here better.”

“Okay,” Maggie relented, still laughing, “who is it then?”

You brought your glass up to your lips, hoping it might hide the bashful smile on your face and keep up your cool and casual facade, “Crossbow Boy.”

You heard her choke on her own drink at that. “Daryl?” She said his name incredulously like you’d just told her it was Dale instead. “But he seems so…” You gave her a flat look and watched the gears turn in her head as she flipped through a whole mental catalog of things to say, probably trying to find something that didn’t also apply to you. Gruff, rude, introverted, contemptuous, stubborn… “I mean, I don’t think he’s bathed the entire time he’s been here,” she eventually criticized, seeming to have given up.

“I know,” you agreed with a scrunch to your nose. You then bumped her shoulder with yours conspiratorially and returned to resting against her like you had been, “think I can seduce him into a shower? Let the water rinse away the muck and reveal all sorts of old scars underneath, make him all shiny by latherin’ him up with a soapy washcloth, have him bend down and bury his face in my tits so I can wash his hair for him…”

“Gross,” Maggie deadpanned, trying to get you to stop.

“Really, though,” you continued, ignoring her, “He’s got arms like tree trunks, he ain’t afraid to get dirty, and he’s clearly got a lot of practical skills. We could use an extra workhorse around here; I don’t think Jimmy and Glen are gonna be able to help me carry hay bales or work the cultivator—and I don’t want Daddy doin’ it anymore, he’s gettin’ too old. Besides that, he’s got such big hands and he seems so good with ‘em. I got a good look at them the other day, they’re all rough and calloused. I’d love to feel ’em scratch against my bare skin when he grabs my hips and—”

You cut yourself off, much to Maggie’s clear relief, when the screen door opened and Beth popped her head out. “What are you guys talkin’ about out here?”

“Nothin’,” you and Maggie said together. Beth rolled her eyes and stepped out, taking up the last little bit of space on the bench next to Maggie and making you both scooch to the side to make more room.

“You were talkin’ about sex, weren’t you?” What the fuck, was she a witch?

“What do you know about sex?” Maggie scoffed, prompting you to repeat her question with a different, more suspicious inflection.

“Yeah, what do you know about sex?“ Were you going to have to make good on your promise to axe-murder Jimmy?

“I know more than you think I do,” she answered confidently, “I see things and I hear things. I definitely heard (y/n) talking about Daryl’s ‘big hands’ and ‘tree trunk arms’.” She let out a dreamy, sarcastic sigh. “The window into the living room is open, by the way.” You whipped around to look behind you in a panic, trying to discern if that meant your father had heard you talking, too. “Daddy’s upstairs readin’ The Bible, don’t worry.”

“If you heard it all, then why even ask what we were takin’ about?” Maggie asked in a huff, crossing her arms over her chest.

Beth giggled, mirroring your position and leaning against her, “wanted to make you squirm a little.”

“You’re kinda evil and vindictive when you wanna be,” you mused, kicking your feet hard and making your side of the bench swing more than the rest.

“Gee, wonder where I got it from.” There was another quiet moment after that before Beth spoke again, “So, you really gonna sleep with ‘im?”

“Oh, most definitely,” you confirmed, “but not just yet. I wanna wind him up first.” Your sisters gave you a synchronized look of bemusement, so you elaborated. “You know when you take a music box and you wind it up and you just keep twisting and twisting and twisting ‘till you can’t anymore and then you open the lid and the little ballerina spins around like crazy? That’s what I wanna do; I wanna see how far I can push him. He doesn’t look it, but he’s real easy to tease. We ran into each other out in the woods yesterday and not even ten minutes into talkin’ I had him just about ready to take me against a tree.”

“Is that a good idea?” Maggie questioned with concern, “he kinda seems like he’s got a short fuse. What if he, you know…”

You waved her off, “eh, I’m pretty sure I can handle him. Honestly, though, I kinda hope I can’t handle him if you know what I mean,” You tried to keep Beth from seeing you poke your tongue into your cheek and pantomime a blowjob from where she was by hiding behind Maggie a little.

“You’re such a perv,” she reprimanded, grabbing your arm and yanking it down.

“Nah, just lonely. Bet you know the feeling, Little Miss Drug-Store-Hookup.”

“You two are so lucky,” Beth mused, “you’ve got stuff to talk about when it comes to boys.”

Your brow furrowed and you emerged from your hiding spot to peer at her. “What the hell are you on about? You’re the only one on this bench with a whole-ass boyfriend.”

She snorted, staring off across the property, “hardly.” She brought up her legs, resting them up on the edge of the seat and wrapping her arms around her knees, “Jimmy and I were only dating a few weeks before everything happened. Daddy’s actin’ like we’re already married and Jimmy’s so busy tryin’ to be ‘the man of the family’ now that Daddy’s gettin’ older and Shawn and Otis aren’t around that he barely pays attention to me.”

“Oh, is he now?” You said, amusement tingeing a cruel smile. You’d noticed him trying to step up and fumble his way through farmwork. The kid didn’t know his ass from his elbow when it came to hard labor. It was funny to think he was doing all that to try and learn how to do your job.

“I tried tellin’ him you were already ‘the man of the family’ way before people started gettin’ sick and not to bother or he’d make you mad, but it’s like he didn’t even hear me.”

You brushed off the way Beth tried to placate and vent to you. You shouldn’t be surprised to hear any of that. You’d run into Jimmy’s dad way too many times at the farmer’s market, which is to say you ran into him at all. He always tried to ‘help’ you by taking ‘heavy’ boxes of produce you unloaded from your truck right out of your hands and placing them in all the wrong spots at your stand, making more work for you when you’d inevitably have to rearrange and move everything once he’d left. You always told him you had it handled, but the man said he couldn’t stand by and ‘watch you struggle’, giving you unsolicited advice about how you were in your thirties now and not getting younger so you needed to start thinking about settling down with a strong man who could do all the hard stuff for you so you could focus on giving your dad grandkids. He always said it like you were making sacrifices for your family by taking on so much responsibility for the farm; like it wasn’t something you could possibly want for yourself or fulfill your life with. “Jimmy’s young. He’s never really had to work before and he was raised traditionally,” you said as graciously as you could. You really wanted to say he was dumb, wouldn’t know a day of work if it bit him on the ass, and had been indoctrinated into blatant misogyny, but he was still Beth’s boyfriend so you had to at least act like you liked him in front of her. “The idea that I would be in charge over Otis or Shawn probably doesn’t even compute to him.” She hummed like she agreed, which made you a little sad. You half expected her to rush to his defense; she’d done so with other boyfriends that you hadn’t been half so critical of. In fact, she tended to fall ass-over-teakettle for just about any boy that struck her fancy. You remembered her being with boys for less time than Jimmy that she’d cried about for weeks after it was over, but it seemed like she was already checked out of this relationship.

She seemed checked out of a lot of things since you’d lost Shawn and her mom and you couldn’t blame her. You’d been exactly her age when you and Maggie lost your mom. You hadn’t handled it well, but you at least handled it better than Beth, who hadn’t seemed to have handled it at all. It was like she was pretending it wasn’t happening and that they really were just sick like Otis and your dad believed. You didn’t share that worldview, it was why you and your dad fought so often these days. You had your eyes open, you saw what he didn’t want to. You thought keeping those people in the barn was dangerous and desecrating. They fester, they rot, they don’t stop even after they’re completely torn apart. They’re dead and they should be laid to rest, not kept around in a barn and…fed. You refused to go near the damn thing and you didn’t want anything to do with it. You didn’t want to go in there and see the way your loved ones had decayed—you should have fought harder to have them buried while they still looked like themselves, because now things were getting out of hand. It was getting harder and harder to keep the ones already in there from getting out and eating people when they came back with new additions to the rapidly growing collection. You’d thought once or twice about sneaking in there and putting them all down or just straight up setting the barn on fire, but it was too risky and too big of a waste. You’d like to be able to use that barn again some day.

“What are you thinkin’ about so hard over there?” Maggie asked, pulling you back to planet earth for the second time that afternoon.

You gave her a merciless smirk and began to make up something else. “I’m thinkin’ about how I need to reinforce the well lids tomorrow, it’s been eatin’ at me since we found that bloated guy in the one we use for livestock. I might just ask for Daryl’s help. Can’t wait to see him wipin’ sweat from his brow after workin’ those muscles in the blazin’ hot sun. I’ll offer him a rag and some lemonade, watch him towel himself off and gulp it down. If I’m lucky maybe a few drops will spill from the corner of his mouth and drip down his—”

Beth had laughed you off and left to go inside halfway through your monologue, probably thinking Maggie was a glutton for punishment the way she asked for your thoughts like that and eventually Maggie got sick of hearing your depraved and horny descriptions and pressed a hand over your mouth to keep you from speaking anymore. “Okay, I’m done talkin’ about this with you.” You licked at her hand, instant regret washing over both of you as she now had a wet palm and you remembered she’d been touching horses and dust-covered shelves all day and hadn’t washed her hands yet. “Dumbass,” Maggie muttered, wiping her hand on her pants and glaring at you.

“Yeah, that was poorly judged on my part,” you admitted with a grimace, pouring yourself more lemonade and chugging it down to try and get the foul taste off your tongue.

She chuckled, getting up from the bench with her hands raised over her head as if she was trying not to physically touch the conversation you’d been having, her empty glass left abandoned on the deck of the porch. “Don’t take too much time ‘windin’ up’ Daryl, you really need to get laid so you can stop talkin’ like a nympho.”

You blew a raspberry at her as she left, pulling the swing forward enough for you to put your feet up on the porch railing, “Don’t ask questions you don’t want me to answer!” Shaking your head, you let yourself sit for a little bit longer, watching the people in the camp trickle around as they got ready for the sun to set and started to get up to grab dinner or to go for seconds. Daryl had a helping in his hand and he was devouring it like it was his first meal in weeks, shoveling spoonfuls of meat into his mouth and tipping the bowl to slurp up the thick broth of the stew. You loved a healthy appetite on a man, you bet he licked his plate clean. Maybe he’d lick your plate clean, so to speak. As you were admiring him, all sorts of thoughts (smutty ones, morbid ones, and your regular old garden variety anxieties) swam through your head now that you were alone and didn’t have Maggie to mess with and take your mind off things a little bit.

The more time you spent dwelling on just what you were thinking of doing, the more stupid and ridiculous you felt. Were you really going to go to all sorts of trouble just to keep around a man? A man you didn’t even know? Why? Because you were horny? Because you needed help around the farm? Because the world was going to hell, all sorts of worries about whether you could handle taking care of everything on your own were piling up, everyone else was already dead, and you were starting to realize you didn't want to be alone forever? All you could hear in your head now that you were by yourself was Jimmy’s patronizing father telling you to ‘settle down’ and ‘let a man do it for you’ and that just made you want to walk into the pond at the edge of your property and drown yourself.

You kicked your feet off the railing and stood up fast, stomping down the porch steps as the bench swung wildly in your wake. Hell no. Nope, you were not letting yourself get drawn in by piercing eyes that followed you around the farm, pining for comfort just because you were a little lonely and things were starting to overwhelm you. You just needed to take a breath and get a grip—or maybe the heat was just getting to you, perhaps a dip in the pond wasn’t such a bad idea.

You didn’t need help. Not from him, not from anyone. All you needed was your family and who knows how much of that you’d be left with if these people stayed any longer. You didn’t have the time, resources, or patience to care for another two people on this farm, let alone a whole separate group with two kids that you’d end up feeling like you’d have to babysit all the time considering these people were letting them wander off into the woods to get lost and get shot at (see? these people can’t even be trusted to take care of their own kids, how are you supposed to trust them with your family?). You shouldn’t have told Maggie you’d let Glen stay—you shouldn’t have even entertained the idea of letting any of them even linger. You know you’re not supposed to give a mouse a cookie. Without even realizing, you rushed out towards the edge of the property where the pond sat secluded behind a thick line of trees and bushes. Your head buzzed with a million and one thoughts, teetering between ‘to hell with everything, I can handle this on my own’ and the overwhelming pressure of everything you’d been dealing with the last few months pushing down on you like a hydraulic press.

As you got to the edge of the water you stripped all the way down knowing no one but your family even knew the place was there and left your knife on a nearby rock for easy access just in case before you ran in and dove into the water. It was refreshing and the shock of cold on your skin almost had you gasping and swallowing a mouthful of the stuff. You came back up for a second, but only to take a deep, dramatic breath before dunking yourself back under to let out the loudest scream you could manage. All of it was swallowed up by the pond as bubbles streamed from your mouth and your throat grew raw from the strain of it. It felt good to let it out, all the worrying, all the frustration, all the fear… It left you feeling comfortably empty, like the deep, heavy, knot-like burden that had settled on top of your lungs had been detangled and pulled free from your chest. As you held yourself under the surface, you could feel your thoughts quiet for a moment, letting the water surround you and calm you, as if none of your problems could touch you so long as you remained there. You came up, taking in a deep breath and pushing your wet hair out of your face. This was nice; just the cool down you needed. Honestly, you didn’t know where the hell your head had been. Maybe Maggie was right and you were just desperate to get laid after being alone so long. Yes, sure, it would be nice to have a man with Daryl’s…assets around, but you did not need him—and he certainly wasn’t worth throwing yourself at in an attempt to have him work around the farm for you, that was practically prostitution. In what direction, you weren’t even sure. You’d gotten by just fine up until now, you could continue to do it on your own, right? And Maggie was tough and smart. She didn’t need someone babysitting her on runs.

Yeah. There was no need to look for someone to do things for you or worry about ‘what if’s’. You leaned back and let yourself float around the pond, feeling the ripples and waves of your movements make the water sway around you. You hummed to yourself a little bit, a lullaby you used to sing to Beth when she was little, letting it wash over you and calm your nerves like the water had... that lasted all of a second before your hamster wheel started spinning again and you realized that once you left the pond all your problems would still be there, waiting for you to solve them all by yourself, and you could feel your stress start to well back up around you and make it so you felt you couldn’t breathe—like you were still under the surface, gasping in pond water.

What were you thinking, you couldn’t do this! You were confident before the world shit the bed because Shawn was there to help you with the hard things and to fix the machines when they broke down or made funny noises. Now he was gone and all you could do was worry about what you’d do if the hay baler broke down or the feed mill went kablooey. You regretted not taking the time to learn basic mechanics from him.

You regretted so many things when it came to him and Annette. You wished you hadn’t been so hostile and suspicious when they first came to live with you. You were so certain Annette was trying to replace your mom. Every time she talked about getting new drapes to replace the moth-eaten ones in the dining room or mentioned buying a new couch because the springs were practically poking through the cushions on the old one in the living room you’d snap at her like she was trying to redecorate the whole place and remove every whisper and trace of your mom you had left. You also wished you hadn’t made Shawn’s life a living hell for the whole first year he was living with you, paranoid that his eagerness to help you on the farm was some ploy to steal it out from under you. They just wanted to be family.

You also regretted the way you treated Maggie growing up. You’d been so awful to her, too. You were her big sister and she wanted to be just like you, so of course she’d go through your room and pester you all day long and cling to your pant legs. You’d give anything to go back and appreciate those days now. Back then the ten year age gap was practically a chasm—you didn’t want a little six year old coming around and bugging you, especially when your mom was so sick. It also didn’t help that your father didn’t bother trying to get sober until she was born, there was resentment about that, too. None of that was her fault but you still took it out on her and it became a struggle later down the line when Shawn stepped in and tried to play big brother and you got all territorial. It was so hard trying to form a closer bond with her after she’d grown distant and defensive. Teen Maggie didn’t want anything from you except apparently your wardrobe and your jewelry. You got through to her eventually, but you knew she was still hesitant, even now, to come to you when she needed something and you would have had so much more time with her—with all of them—if only you didn’t waste so much of it shutting out the people you should have been close with. Now Shawn and Annette were gone and you worried every time Maggie left for supplies that watching her ride off would be the last time you ever saw her.

Then there was Beth; you babied her, you knew it. You just didn’t want her to go through what Maggie went through with you. You never wanted her to doubt how loved she was. She humored you about it but you worried—you worried because like it or not, she’d be a woman soon and you didn’t want her to resent you or put distance between you if you continued to treat her like a child who had to have her hand held so she didn’t wander into traffic. You also didn’t want her to depend too much on you and neglect to learn how to stand up on her own. What if the day came where you weren’t around to help her anymore and she was left completely bereft?

You used to have someone to bounce your worries and regrets off of—someone who always lent an understanding ear and a reassuring presence. He always assured you he’d be there whenever you needed guidance and that you could call on him if it ever got to be too much and you needed help. That someone was Otis, but now he’s gone, too and it’s all that douche-canoe deputy’s fault, you just know it.

The vacant, serial killer stare he had when he came back that night was all you’d needed to see to be sure. He was spewing some bullshit story about how Otis had valiantly given his life to make sure Hero Guy Shane made it back safe with Carl’s medical supplies and the whole time he was clutching Otis’s rifle with white knuckles. You’d yanked the gun out of his hands so violently that night, barely even hearing the crap he was trying to sell you. You didn’t want the details, all that mattered to you was that Otis was gone. The man who taught you to hunt; to shoot rifles and bows against your father’s wishes. Otis was the man who practically raised you when your dad was fighting the bottle and losing and your mom was too busy with baby Maggie to pay attention to where you were or what you were doing at any given time. He was the best person you ever knew and now he was just…gone. He was gone and Shane was still kicking around—Oh, but you’re the bad guy because you want them to leave.

Before you even knew it you were crying. You didn’t think you’d shed a single tear since the dead started walking, way too determined to be the solid foundation your family needed to keep from sinking into the ground. You wondered if David felt this overwhelming sense of dread when he prepared to fight Goliath. Did he worry the task no one else dared to tackle would be not only his undoing, but the undoing of everyone he’d ever known and loved if he made a mistake or cracked under the pressure? You wondered if he turned to anyone for comfort or strength or if he had carried the burden entirely on his own shoulders. If he did, he must have been as terribly lonely as you were, even when surrounded by his loved ones.

As you wiped at your tears you heard a rustling in the brush to your right. You were suddenly stiff, straining to hear what it was. It sounded like footsteps—human footsteps. You waded through the water as quietly as you could, trying to get to your knife before whatever it was got to you. Just as you reached the rock it was resting on Daryl burst through the treeline, crossbow in hand. You gasped and sank down into the water to cover yourself better. “Jesus Christ, you scared the shit out of me! What the hell are you doin’ out here?” you found yourself shrieking.

He tensed at the sound of your movement and your words, instinctively pointing his crossbow in your direction before recognizing you and putting it down in a huff. “Saw you stormin’ down here by yourself. Wanted to… I don’t know, see if you were alright.” He shook his head and you could hear him muttering ‘ridiculous’ to himself under his breath. You hastily rubbed at your eyes, desperately hoping that it just looked like you had water droplets on your face. “What the hell are you doin’?” he challenged, tossing your question back at you.

You gave a sarcastic sneer, feeling defensive considering he caught you with your pants down—or more accurately, with your pants off—and crying in a pond. “I’m filing my fucking taxes,” you told him snottily.

“Right,” He snorted, “It’s a waste of time worryin’ for you, nothin’s gonna getcha. You’ll just bite the head off anything that gets anywhere near you.” You could already feel your composure slip as Daryl took your attention, the little verbal sparring match providing a good outlet to let off steam. He turned like he was going to walk off and leave you for a moment, but then he whipped back around and took a few steps towards you, frustrations seemingly renewed. “D’you know how stupid it is wandering off alone? Especially to do somethin’ like this?” He gestured first towards your clothes then at you, pink dusting his cheeks that you could mistake for anger or heat from the setting sun if you didn’t know better by now. “The hell’s your problem, anyway?”

“My problem?” You repeat incredulously, your frustration bubbling up again. You were going to lash out. Hard. Since he wanted to know so bad, you’d be happy to lay it out for him. He was a big boy, you were sure he could handle it just fine. “You’re my fucking problem!”

“Yeah?” He challenged, angry and huffy, but clearly excited that you were picking a fight—seemingly wanting one himself. Careful what you wish for, tough guy.

“Yeah!” You doubled down, standing up from the water to start your hissy fit in earnest, feeling a conflicted sort of thrill when you saw Daryl’s eyes go wide, pupils dilating as he realized you were completely naked and storming out of the water towards him. “I see you starin’ at me all day long, do you think you’re slick? You ever gonna do somethin’ about it? Shit or get off the pot, buddy!” You see him lick his lips, see his eyes narrow, see him take another step towards you, but you’re not done. This had been building up for a while and you sure as fuck weren’t going to dump it on your little sisters, the whole reason you got this bad in the first place was because you were trying to shield them from all the shit you’d been slogging through. “But that’s not all, no! No, If that’s not enough, I have to reinforce all my well lids to make sure I don’t have any more corpses fallin’ in ‘em and I have to keep check of all my livestock ‘cause God only knows if they’ve drank any of the contaminated water and gotten sick! If they did come in contact but aren’t showin’ symptoms and then we eat the tainted meat—then what?” Daryl takes a step back, nostrils suddenly flaring as you come up to get in his face, finger poking into his chest roughly as you offloaded all the things that had been piling up. This was clearly more than he’d bargained for, but he’d just have to deal with it. “Plus now I’ve got those…freeloaders lookin’ at me like I’m killin’ them with my bare hands just ‘cause I don’t wanna give them a handout and half my land! The last time we had strangers on our property it ended with them offering to help my step-brother mend our fences and then turnin’ tail and leavin’ him to be torn to shreds when he got his foot stuck under the wheel of a tractor and one of those—those corpses made its way onto the property and when we tried to bury him, he came back an’ bit my step-mom! Those people at least had the decency to wait a day before they made me lose a family member; not even eight hours after your people came they killed my fuckin’ farmhand! Speakin’ of which, now that Otis is gone my workload is twice as high because I’m the only one who can do a lot of the hard stuff! Daddy’s too old, it’s too labor-intensive for Patricia, Beth and Jimmy are too young, and Maggie…she went to college because she wanted to do somethin’ else with her life. She shouldn’t have to work the combine harvester or heft the feed bags or fix the fences.”

Tears were prickling your eyes again and you could hear your voice starting to falter, but you couldn’t stop. It was like you were projectile word vomiting all over the poor guy. The hand that had been prodding him began to ball up his shirt in your fist instead, looking for something solid to grab onto so you wouldn’t sink into the mud below your feet under the weight of your self-appointed burdens. Your voice grew softer, less angry and more defeated as you went. “If that wasn’t bad enough, we’re runnin’ out of gas for the generators, Maggie has to keep riskin’ her life going into town for supplies, Daddy’s stubbornly still tryin’ to work the fields and makin’ me think he doesn’t trust me to actually handle things and I’m startin’ to think he’s right not to. To top it all off, the hay baler has been makin’ this grinding noise that’s drivin’ me crazy! I don’t know how to fix it! Shawn knew how to fix it…” Your voice failed you after that, tears spilling over. You gave up on trying to keep some semblance of dignity in front of this guy, suddenly realizing what it was you had done, quite literally showing your bare ass and making yourself more vulnerable with a complete stranger than you’ve ever been with anyone. “He kept…buggin’ me to watch him do it—to learn, but… I never saw the point. I thought he’d always be there to do it for me.” You finished out with a sob.

“So…” You heard Daryl’s voice say gruffly and with caution as if he was walking barefoot on a floor covered in mousetraps, “your solution to all of that was to get naked and go swimmin’ in a duck pond?”

You huffed out a self-deprecating laugh, forehead now resting against his chest next to your balled-up fist as you realized you felt lighter than you had in years after getting all that off your chest. “Guess so.”

“That work?”

“For like a second,” you admitted, “The cold water cleared my head a little. It was like puttin’ a band-aid on a burst pipe.”

A hand came to rest on your shoulder, feather light and awkward like he was worried you might turn and bite him if he wasn’t careful; a fair assumption. “I dunno about a lot of that shit, but…I can take a look at the baler, sounds like it just needs an oil change and maybe its gears cleaned.”

Everyone you’d ever depended on for one reason or another had either disappointed you to the point you refused to do it again even after they’d proven they wouldn’t let you down anymore, or they’d died. You knew the score, so why the hell did his offer make you feel so hopeful? Why did you still want so badly to ask him to stay on your farm after you kick his group to the curb, even after you’d just told yourself you didn’t need him and that it was stupid to want to rely on a man you just met? You kept contradicting and re-contradicting yourself over and over, your resolve on the matter of needing someone flying back and forth between either extreme like a pendulum. You were just so damn fractured these days and here he was offering to fill in some of the cracks.

“Thank you,” you said sincerely, lifting your head to stare into his eyes. They were so damn blue you could almost swim in them, just like you had in the pond behind you. You figured they’d be as good as anything to drown in. You watched them flicker down to your lips and before you even knew it you were reaching your hand into the back of his hair and yanking him down to crash his mouth to yours.

He moaned in surprise, or maybe pain as his teeth knocked against yours before finding a rhythm with you, the hand at your shoulder squeezing and then flexing against your skin while you used the grip you had on his shirt to try and tug it off his body. He stiffened up and pulled away like you burned him, and it occurred to you that maybe he didn’t actually want you the way you thought he did. Maybe you really did just piss him off. You opened your mouth to apologize, arms moving to cover yourself in embarrassment but not managing to fully complete either action before he yanked the tank top he was wearing over his head and dived back in to kiss you again, his hand coming up to grip the wrist you were about to use to cover your tits and move it out of the way so he could press you fully against his chest, his other arm coming to wrap around your waist to keep you pinned to him.

You gave in for a second, reveling in how everything about him engulfed you—his arm snaking around you and squeezing like a python, the big warm hand circling your wrist, completely cuffing around it like a shackle keeping you tethered to him, his chest a wide and expansive place to lean against and let yourself rest, tossing aside all thoughts but the ones of what you wanted to do to him—with those thoughts flooding into your head, you yanked your hand free roughly, using it to push against his chest. A frustrated grunt came out of him as he fought to keep you close, but when you used the distance to start deftly unbuckling his his belt he didn’t put up any more protest, instead putting that rough energy towards aggressively kicking off his boots, stepping on the back of his heels to pull his feet free, knowing they’d need to go if you really wanted his pants off.

Before long, he was as naked as you were, your mouth was back on his, and you were sucking his bottom lip between your teeth; using it to tug at him as you walked backward into the water. He followed blindly and eagerly, placing his hand over yours as you cupped his cheek, your other hand threading into his hair again giving you a good grasp on his head. So enthralled was he, that he didn’t even notice the smirk you pressed into the kiss as you used the new leverage he gave you to turn your body and toss him farther into the pond where he collapsed into the water with a loud splash. By the time he emerged, gasping and wiping the water off his face with a heavy shake of his head you were cackling loud and hard, just as you had when you’d teased Maggie a half-hour earlier.

“Sorry, Tiger, but I’m not doin’ anything with you ‘till you’ve had a proper bath,” you said through your laughter.

Another loud splash sounded as Daryl smacked his hand against the surface in frustration, slinging water with his angry hand gestures, “I’m gettin’ real sick of these games of yours, girl.”

You hummed, wading back towards him, hand coming up to rub against his chest then over his bicep, subtly wiping away the grime there and watching the dirt on his skin wash away where your hand touched him. “No you’re not. In fact, I think you like playin’ my games. Wouldn’t keep lettin’ me get away with it if you didn’t.”

His arms circled you again, eyes dark and piercing into you with a dangerous determination you’d been waiting to see, “I ain’t plannin’ on lettin’ you get away, period.” You’d taken the lead up until now for the most part, but now he’d taken control. His kisses were sloppy and unpracticed but so eager you couldn’t help but think it was cute. You got the sense he didn’t have a lot of experience but he’d had to have learned something from somewhere. His lips traveled from your mouth down to the column of your neck and your shoulders, the whiskers on his chin leaving a tingling tickle on your skin that had you keening into his touch. You let out a whine like you were helpless and he’d won just like he seemed to want out of you. Poor thing thought he had you under his thumb now; he had no idea he was right where you wanted him to be.

Your fingers threaded and kneaded into his hair yet again, scratching at his scalp and encouraging him to continue his attentions. It was only when he grew bold enough to bite down lightly on your skin, sucking a hickey into the place above your clavicle that you’d have to hide with high collar shirts that you decided he’d had enough fun. If he thought a little brute strength was all it took to make you roll over and show your belly he had another thing coming. You could gain the upper hand in most any situation because you weren’t afraid to fight dirty. Your hand slid down his skin, grasping his length in your hand. It was hot, velvet smooth, and thicker than you’d anticipated. It was also hard as a rock; stiff and at attention, just for you. You hadn’t gotten a good look at him when he’d stripped, too preoccupied with keeping him distracted so he’d follow you into the water. Now you could tell he was perfectly adequate—a decent enough length and curved in a way you knew would make you scream.

You bit your lip, anticipation making you clench down on nothing and press your legs together for a bit of friction, thankful that the sudden shock of your touch on such a responsive area of his body kept him from noticing your own reaction. He gasped, shaky and uneven like he’d been dunked in ice water (a thought that made you chuckle given the circumstances), bucking into your hand with his nose burrowing into the nape of your neck. You whined in earnest at that, the skin there being sensitive. It caused you to squeeze him in your hand and press your chest close to his, writhing in his arms at the ticklish feeling you wanted to both lean into and wriggle away from. One of his hands moved to your thigh, digging his fingers into the muscle in response to your movements. Your clit throbbed in response, the callouses on the pads of his fingers and his palm scratching over your skin pleasantly. “Quit squirmin’ for a second, damn.” he panted, breath fanning over your neck. It felt so hot but it still made you shiver.

You couldn’t take this. Your goal had been to make him snap, but you were beginning to fray your own nerves with this teasing. You moved your free hand from his hair to grab the hand at your thigh and positioned him so his fingers brushed your opening and his palm pressed against your clit. Your eyelids fluttered for a second at the contact but you didn’t dare close them; not when Daryl was pulling his head away from your neck to look at you with a dazed expression on his face, one you’d seen on a few men in the past. Usually, you thought it made them look dumb and pathetic and it’d make you feel strong to have that sort of power over them—it’d never made you feel…hungry like this before. You thought you’d feel satisfied if you could get this rough, angry, stubborn man to look at you like you’d hypnotized him the way the far and few between men of your past had but somehow you just wanted more and more, like a terrible gluttony had taken over you.

You briefly recalled that your first sexual encounter had been rather similar to this. A fleeting fling with a guy you almost gave your first time to back in highschool because his parents were out of town and he had unsupervised access to their liquor cabinet and a hot tub—you knew your father would keel over and die if he ever found out where you were and what you were doing and that was exactly why you’d went. You weren’t on the best of terms back then. You’d taken a few sips of some sickeningly sweet schnapps and then got frisky in the hot bubbling jets of the tub. His fingers had clumsily pressed at your pussy in a way that stung and whispered ‘so wet, that for me?’ probably something he���d heard in a porno that he thought was a slick and sexy line but it just made you laugh cruelly and shove him away, suddenly scared and unsure you wanted to do what you were doing. Your first and only reaction in those situations is to lash out. “We’re in a hot tub, idiot, everything’s wet. Ain’t none of it’s your doin’, I assure you." You’d stormed off to go home after that and snuck back into your bedroom completely unsatisfied. That boy had been the first in a string of disappointing suitors and pretty soon you found ways to take control and find your own methods to satisfy yourself since the men that came to court you never seemed to know how nor did they bother to stick around long enough to learn, though that’s mostly because you chased them away.

You’re no longer thinking about any of that, though, because Daryl is pressing a finger slowly into you, eyes on yours to gage your reaction and the rough, thick digit is such a welcome feeling inside you that you clamp down on it and moan low, louder than you wanted to be as you learn forward to kiss him again. You began stroking him, his skin slick in the water as you traced a vein on the underside of his dick that made him twitch in your hand. Every other time you reached the tip you’d swipe your thumb over the slit, wiping away the beads of precum and he’d grunt out low and curl his finger as he pumped it into you, eventually adding a second and intensifying the incredible stretch you felt. You knew it’d be nothing compared to what it’d feel like to have him panting above you, pushing his cock into you over and over as his abdomen flexed with the movement of his hips and the thought of it had you fluttering around him harder. Your kisses had grown sloppy and unfocused, both of your attention being diverted to other activities to the point you were just breathing heavily against each other’s mouths.

You could feel it, you were on the cusp of an orgasm, the coil in your stomach tightening with every thrust of his fingers. Your hand was still gripping his wrist, white knuckled like if you let go you’d float away. You used that hand to help him press his palm harder into your clit, jolting as shocks of pleasure shot up your spine at the contact. The damn jerk was so perceptive. He only needed that one little nudge to notice and suddenly with every pump of his fingers he was pressing at that button like it’d win him a prize. You could feel him practically throbbing in your hand by that point. You were so close—you were both so close.

You were rising higher with every rub of his fingers against your walls, every purposeful press of his palm, every jerking thrust into your hand, every grunt against your lips, every panted breath against the raw flesh of your neck that he’d sucked marks into, but it wasn’t until you heard him whimper—something desperate that you were certain he hadn’t meant to let out—that you reached your peak. A quiet “c’mon, please,” as he pressed a kiss against the shell of your ear was your complete undoing.

You cried out, muffling it against his shoulder as you came hard, biting into his skin and clenching down so suddenly around his fingers. Your thumb rubbed at that bulging vein you’d been tracing the whole time and he let go, slumping against you all at once. You couldn’t focus on what you were doing after that, too busy crying into the muscles in his shoulder at the way he kept his fingers curled and his palm hard pressed against you while he continued to thrust into your palm, his cum washing away in the pond water like the dirt on his skin had.

You came down gradually, catching your breath. Your ears had been fine tuned to him and the noises he made and for the first time in the last handful of minutes (ha ha, that was clever. You’ll have to torture Maggie with that one later), you could hear the woods around you again. The birds in the trees, the wind in the leaves, the sound of someone stepping on a twig just beyond the bushes… “(y/n)? You out here?” Shit, that’s Beth.

You immediately used your grip on Daryl’s wrist to yank his fingers out of you, keening at how sensitive you still were in the post-orgasm bliss and reeling at the loss of him inside you. You rested your forehead against his chest and tried to recover as you prayed to any higher power listening that you did so quickly because Beth’s footsteps were getting closer. “I-I’m here, Bethy, stay where you are!”

Her steps faltered and there was a pause before you heard her say “…why?” in an incredulous tone.

Great question, Beth, glad you asked. It’s ‘cause I just got finger-blasted into oblivion and I still got the guy who did it’s dick in my hand!

“I uh…I went skinny dippin’ in the duck pond, Beth, I’m naked.”

Your sister scoffed and you could practically feel her roll her eyes, but she did as you asked and stayed where she was. “Oh please, we’re both girls, it’s nothin’ I haven’t already seen before.”

That made you chuckle, glancing up to meet Daryl’s eye. He looked mortified, blushing bright red and thankfully too flustered to be able to say anything snarky that’d give you away. You winked at him coquettishly. “No, Bethy, you’re a girl. I’m a woman. Trust me, if you saw what I have goin’ on over here, it’d scar you for life.” You started making your way out of the water as you spoke, your hand gliding up his length one final time as you pulled away, keeping contact with him as long as you could until you could no longer reach him. His eyes scrunched shut and he must have bit his tongue to keep from making a sound, his body leaning towards your touch as it disappeared as if you were tugging on a leash attached to his hips.

“Whatever you say,” Beth said, sighing. “Daddy just told me to come get you ‘cause Patricia's got dinner ready. It’s lasagna made with that venison Daryl brought back the other day.” She paused again before blurting out “hold on, is he over there with you?” A witch. She’s a witch!

You were so startled by her accusation you stumbled in your already frantic scramble to get your clothes back on, tripping yourself on the leg of your shorts and almost falling to your knees as you struggled to get the denim up the wet skin of your thighs. “No…”

“That ‘no’ sounds like a yes.” Beth let out a teasing giggle only a little sister who caught their big sister doing something she shouldn’t be can produce. “Tell him Rick’s lookin’ for him and he better hurry up and put some clothes on, ‘cause he was gonna search over here next.”

You scrunched your eyes closed in mortification as you heard Daryl start hastily making his way out of the water behind you, the warning Beth gave seeming to jumpstart his body into action. “Thank you, Beth,” you grit out in embarrassment.

She began to walk away, her footsteps starting up again as she left for the house. “So much for waitin’ and windin’ him up first. Guess he’s as easy to tease as you said.” Her muttered words were not quite quiet enough to not be heard. You were going to kill her.

“Thank you, Beth,” You repeated with emphasis, imploring her to shut up. You looked over at Daryl who was doing everything he could to reach for his shirt without turning his back to you, an awkward little action that almost distracted you from the way Beth’s grumbling had him whipping his head up to glare at you with his nostrils flared like you’d made a fool of him again. The fire in his eyes was really something else, he seemed like he wanted to tackle you into the mud and pin you down. For a second you felt a bit like a prey animal and the thrill of it made you want to prod the bear some more. In your panic to get your clothes on you’d completely missed the step of putting your underwear back on, skipping straight to your jean shorts. You picked them up as they sat prim and proper on top of your tank top and were glad they were at least one of your cute pairs. You blew him a kiss and tossed them into the crumpled heap of his pants splayed out on top of his boots and finished getting dressed quickly so you could scamper off before his realization that he’d quite literally played right into your hand the whole time blew up in your face, heart pounding like a jackhammer in a way you’d never felt before.

This was exciting. This was new! You suddenly felt like all the problems you’d worried would ambush you as soon as you left the pond weren’t so unmanageable. You were fairly confident you’d just bagged yourself a new farmhand, afterall—one who could keep your equipment from breaking down.

You couldn’t wait for your next chance to play a game with your new favorite toy, you’d make sure to give him a prize worth winning.

[waywardsou2]

My full Thunderbolts* review

Spoilers below

Yelena’s struggle's with her life feeling meaningless and just wanting a family that loves her hit so close to home in ways that I can hardly speak of. Her saying “Daddy I’m so alone” ripped my heart apart

John's quote of “on your left” and “I should have seen that coming” killed me I just…what the fuck the references were...I noticed them instantly how could you not

The killing of Antonia was so pointless and a horrible way to get rid of a character they had no idea what to do with

Bob is the sweetest character I have ever seen in my life and I need more content of him, the fact that after all that has happened, they are still experimenting on people is just fucking horrible. And vulnerable people no less. Fucking sick but it's America so what did I expect

I really hope Valentina dies she is such a bitch and I fucking hate her for what she did, trying to make a commodity out of the thunderbolts, she's just another power hungry official and I really hope she is kicked to the curb sooner rather than later.

Bucky being congressman was not explained, and I don’t understand it and I fucking hate it. Pointless subplot. (I actually made a post that is a potential explanation for this)

Having John Walker's wife and kid leave him and having Bucky say it was a low blow but I fucking appreciate it so much, but I also feel bad for him, more than I thought I would as a John Walker hater.

I think this movie has actually made me warm to John...he's still an asshole but part of me feels bad.

I think Bob might be a split personality, potentially. Or have some form of DID because by the looks of it Sentry/Evil Bob existed before he was experimented on, I just think the experiments made it worse. He’s kinda like the middle of the road for experimentation. Steve was the best and John was the worst, Bucky is a grey area and Bob is the middle…HE’S THE LIGHT AND THE DARK (And yes I know it wasn't the super soldier serum but still)

The way the light in the room ebbed and flowed from light to dark when Bob and Yelena were talking was so subtle but such a good hint

I am so fucking happy (and this is something I would never thought I would say) that there were no romantic plot lines, no interests, no sub plots. They didn’t try to pair Bucky with anyone, and they didn’t pair Yelena with anyone.

I really an rooting for a Bob and Yelena friendship, I need them so badly. Yesterday fast

The fact that we didn’t get to see Bucky’s rooms was a fucking crime and a waste of potential and I am so fucking mad about it. The on screen whump we could have been whiteness to would have been immeasurable (thank god I am writing a fic about this)

Alexi trying to do better by Yelena and having them actually talk things out even if it was only for a little bit was a golden moment and as someone with a shitty father figure I will cherish it for the rest of my life.

The movie was really good but there were a few meaningless subplots and a lot of things left unanswered but overall I really loved the movie. Even though it was small scale New York it was still the most exciting and climax filled movie. The editing was pretty good although some of the SFX was a little dodgy.

Sentry was the creepiest thing I have ever seen 10/10 would smash

No but seriously he was creepy as fuck and he made me flinch several times in the movie

It’s funny because the whole “dark person inside you” was actually something that my therapist discussed with me and this was literally something I faced. This is what my depression looked like with me and… oh my god it hit really close to home. And apparently it's a decently common conceptualisation of people's "inner demons" is literally a person. So this was a really good representation in my opinion. Especially with the darkness consuming Bob as he was beating up Sentry

I wish we could have seen the trauma of the other characters, that felt like wasted potential. I guess we saw what was necessary since the other stuff has mostly been explain and even shown before but still. It felt like such wasted potential to not extrapolate what was already there

The use of sound and things just going dead silent as the void took over was…perfect. Like literally the absolute nothingness was incredible

All of the characters holding onto Bob when he was struggling because beating down the darkness is never the answer was just

Something I actually talked to my therapist about also is that beating up your darkness or trying to fight fire with fire is not going to work. It’s only going to consume you and pull you down and make it worse. You have to accept it come to terms with it and learn to live with it and slowly it will fade…this is a perfect metaphor for basically all my mental health and I'm sure a lot of other people too.

Everyone with depression needs to see this movie because I swear as emotionally traumatised as I am…I feel like a cured me. It was so important for me to see that especially when my life has been feeling like shit lately

And that fact that I saw 0 AI in this movie was fantastic. No fucking AI my Marvel thank you very much. *spits on you* (at least from what I could tell I'm hoping I'm right)

THE END CREDIT SCENE WITH FUCKING THE “NEW AVENGERS” AND BUCKY HAVING TALKED TO SAM SAYING IT DIDN’T GO WELL. ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME. WHO EVEN NEEDS DR DOOM WE HAVE A WINTERFALCON DIVORCE ARC ALREADY ON THE WAY. DR DOOM MOVE OVER YOU PIECE OF SHIT LITERALLY NOTHING IS GOING TO COMPARE

Yelena sticking by Bob because she knows what it’s like when your at your lowest was so sweet. She knew he just needed someone. And he’s so kind

Omg I need to talk about Bob because he is a serious contender for DID because the different person, the gaps in his memory, the lows and the highs…if you have DID and you have seen thunderbolts (because I do not have DID) please tell me that you recognise that as DID or if it was just me

YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW MAD I WAS WHEN I FOUND OUT THAT BITCH HAD BOUGHT THE OLD AVENGERS TOWER. YOU HAVE NO RIGHT LADY, NONE. YOU NEED TO GET YOUR GREASEY MITS AWAY FROM WHERE IT ALL STARTED

I think Mel mentioning the 2012 Avengers movie was a nice hit. Because it really is a reset. I think my cousin was right, they needed to go down, to come back up again. Which meant taking a gamble to make some shit media and shrinking things back down to small (kind of I’ll get to that in a sec) and then working their way back up. Because this movie was just New York. New York was in danger and it was saved. Back to the old classics

However speaking on that the fact that, the Fantastic 4 showed up and were “extradimensional” does mean that the multiverse is still open. This leaves so much open for Doomsday we are going to basically (I think) have the original civil war plot line from the comics on a multiversal scale. That’s my vague idea based on what Thunderbolts set up

I really hope they give me more Bob content. I love these guys now. This is my favourite thing ever. New favourite Marvel anything. It is #1 golden cup and everything. Oh my lord.

Ok I’m going to take a shower I might be back with more

Ok I’m actually back the next day

I think I called it, I really think it was Bucky’s turn to be mischaracterized because a lot of that didn’t feel like Bucky, he was still a dork and still caring like he usually is. But it just didn’t feel like him, especially since his running for Congress wasn’t explained and it just seemed like a non-event. So…yeah, unfortunately, at least to me, Bucky didn’t feel like Bucky. Dare I say he was boring.

I was kind of hoping for more lore on the other characters but Ava and Bucky just got…side lined almost, they were there for a reason and I know Bucky is going to have a big role to play soon so they needed to be in this movie but it just felt odd. They were there just because

The intense found family aspect of this movie was honestly so beautiful and the messages of mental health were incredibly deep, though provoking and not stupid for once. Nothing was overlooked or changed to fit some sort of censored narrative. It was all blatant and in your face just how mental health should be represented because it is exactly like that. It’s big and loud and affects lots of people

[pankowcrumbs]

PR relationship X Will Poulter

MasterList

Will Poulter Masterlist

The first time I met Will Poulter, he didn’t look at me. Not properly, anyway. He nodded in my direction, murmured a hello, and turned back to the publicist mid-sentence like I wasn’t even in the room. Charming.

I tried not to take it personally. I’d been warned this was all for show a bit of strategic matchmaking. Our teams had cooked up the idea after the first round of press photos for our upcoming project looked “a little too professional” and “not enough spark.” Translation: we didn’t look like people anyone wanted to write fanfiction about.

So now, here we were, sitting at a long oak table in a private conference room, across from each other like two actors at a chemistry read neither of us had signed up for.

“They just want a bit of buzz,” my agent had said that morning, like it was a weather forecast. “Some hand-holding here, a few candid coffee runs. It’ll help sell the film. You don’t actually have to like him.”

Perfect. Because I didn’t.

Or rather, I didn’t know him. But Will had this aloof thing going on that instantly put my guard up. Tall, confident, vaguely distracted like his brain was always somewhere else. Maybe I reminded him of someone he didn’t like, or maybe he simply didn’t care to charm people off-camera.

Fine by me.

The first few outings were textbook PR fluff. We were papped sipping iced lattes on a park bench that may as well have had Please Photograph Us carved into the wood. He’d touch my hand for exactly 1.5 seconds, then retreat as if I were on fire. In interviews, we gave the usual lines 'We get on so well'. 'It’s such a joy working together.' Lies. Not malicious ones, just... necessary ones.

Behind the scenes, we barely spoke unless prompted. Our trailers were side-by-side on set, but he always closed his door. I told myself I didn’t care.

Then one afternoon, the director called for a break mid-scene. I stepped off set, rubbing at my temple, and Will appeared beside me out of nowhere. He didn’t say anything. Just gently took the water bottle from my hand, unscrewed the cap, and handed it back.

“You okay?” he asked quietly.

I blinked. “Yeah. Headache.”

He nodded. “You were squinting in the last few takes.”

It was such a small thing. Insignificant, really. But no one else had noticed. I didn’t know what to do with that.

After that, something shifted.

Not publicly. We still played our parts holding hands at premieres, letting our fingers linger just long enough to make headlines. But the difference came in the quieter moments.

Like the time we were ushered through the back door of a hotel, dodging fans and camera flashes, and his hand pressed gently to the small of my back to guide me through the chaos. There were no photographers inside. No one to perform for. But he didn’t move his hand. Not for several seconds.

Or the way we started sitting closer during breaks on set, our shoulders brushing as we looked over lines or shared snacks from the craft table. It wasn’t romantic. Not really. Just… easy.

We stopped pretending to be chatty in public and started actually having real conversations in private. Like how he missed London and couldn’t find a decent sausage roll in L.A. Or how he got into acting because of a school play he didn’t even audition for his teacher had just written his name down.

I told him about my mum. About how she used to record every show I was in and make my siblings watch them at dinner. Will had laughed softly, eyes crinkling, and said, “I’d love to meet her.”

Something about the way he’d said it made my stomach flip.

One night, after a long day of filming, we ended up in the same car on the way back to the hotel. His head lolled against the window. My shoes were off, legs curled beneath me, still buzzing from the adrenaline of a particularly emotional scene.

“You were brilliant today,” he said suddenly.

I turned. “Thanks. So were you.”

He looked at me properly then. “You’re not as guarded as I thought.”

I raised a brow. “You thought I was guarded?”

“I think we both were,” he admitted. “At first.”

There was a pause. A comfortable one, surprisingly.

He added, “It’s strange, isn’t it? Faking something for long enough that it doesn’t feel fake anymore.”

I didn’t reply. Just looked out the window, hiding the smile tugging at my lips.

A few weeks later, we were sitting backstage before a press junket. I was flipping through cue cards while he scrolled on his phone, humming some unfamiliar tune under his breath. One of the assistants popped her head in and told us we’d be mic’d up in five.

He stood, stretched, then held out his hand to me. “You alright?”

“I’m fine,” I said, waving him off.

But he stepped closer, gently tugged the sleeve of my jumper back down my arm where it had bunched at the elbow. His fingers lingered for a moment.

“You’ve got that scrunchy forehead again,” he said, smiling.

“I do not have a scrunchy forehead.”

“You do when you’re nervous.”

I rolled my eyes, but the truth was I was nervous. Not about the press. About the fact that he noticed. Again.

By the time we were halfway through the press tour, I stopped flinching every time someone called him “your boyfriend” in interviews. Sometimes I didn’t even correct them.

We started spending time together outside of the film bubble. Real time. Lazy breakfasts in the hotel cafe. Walks that weren’t scheduled by publicists. Movie nights in my suite that always ended with us asleep on opposite ends of the couch, our legs tangled somewhere in the middle.

There were still no labels. No confessions.

But one night, after a gala, we stumbled into the quiet hallway of our floor still laughing about something ridiculous a reporter had asked. I fumbled for my key card. He stood beside me, his tie loose around his neck, hair messier than usual.

I unlocked the door, but didn’t go in.

Neither did he.

“Do you think,” I began slowly, “that maybe… we’re not faking it anymore?”

Will looked at me. Really looked.

“I was never that good of an actor,” he said, barely above a whisper.

My heart did that stupid fluttering thing. I wanted to kiss him. I almost did.

Instead, I smiled. “Me neither.”

He leaned forward, pressed a kiss to my cheek, and whispered goodnight.

And maybe it was the softness of it. The restraint. The way it felt more intimate than anything we’d been forced to do in public.

But that was the moment I knew I was properly in trouble.

The next morning, the tabloids were filled with blurry photos of us exiting the gala hand-in-hand. The captions were predictable. The chemistry is real. Co-stars or couple?

Will sent me a screenshot with a voice note that simply said, “Told you they’d run with it.”

I replied with a heart emoji. Then: Dinner tonight? No cameras.

He replied in three seconds flat: Absolutely.

Maybe it didn’t start real. Maybe we weren’t even meant to like each other.

But I’ll never forget the first time he reached for my hand when we were alone. Not for show. Not for press.

Just for me.

And I held on tight.

Because suddenly, it didn’t feel forced at all.

[a-most-beloved-fool]

Tell us more about your hate for Dr. Mora...?

Yes!

The thing with Dr. Mora is that the people who wrote him weren't actually properly aware of what they were writing. What they intended to write was a nuanced father-figure who gets to reconcile with his formerly no-contact son. What they actually wrote was... a bit different.

I've talked about him on here before, so I'm going to go ahead and link that post here, because I think there was good discussion (and it's a bit shorter), but if you want the long answer, it's below the cut!

From even before Mora's first appearance in The Alternate, we know that Odo feels a great deal of resentment towards him as a direct result of how Odo was treated when he was in Dr. Mora's lab. He is mentioned more than once before he ever appears on screen, and always in negative or neutral ways (such as Odo speaking about the 'Cardassian neck trick' that he clearly didn't enjoy performing).

When he does first arrive on station, Odo is very obviously uncomfortable with him. He does not want to spend time with Mora - in fact, he explicitly states that he does not see Mora as a father-figure, and that he does not trust him.

Now, the plot of this episode features a gas which caused Odo, when in his rest-cycle, to unknowingly turn into a seemingly-mindless monstrous creature. Seemingly mindless, I say, because the creature does have enough of a mind to remember his resentment of Mora and repeatedly target him. I, personally, am of the opinion that That Level of resentment does not come from nothing and can't be easily dismissed.

During this episode, Mora is the first to realize that the creature is Odo. He pulls Odo aside and informs him of this. I'm just going to leave a section of the episode summary from Memory Alpha here, because I think it says it better than I can:

Odo proposes that the gas from the planet they were on affected him somehow, but Dr. Mora suggests Odo may have been responsible for unsolved crimes in the past. He then says that now that they know the truth, none of the station staff will trust Odo, and advises Odo to return to the scientific center with him, stating he has experience with Odo.

To me, that reads as a wildly abusive interaction. That is Mora trying to manipulate Odo by distancing him from his friends and casting doubts on Odo's ability to do his job (which Odo takes great pride and comfort in). He takes the two things most important to Odo - his connection to his coworkers, and his career, and dismisses both of them as false, somehow. It's deliberate, and it's cruel. The phrase, "he has experience with Odo," especially gets on my nerves. That is not a wording that would be used by a man who sees Odo as his son or as a sentient being. That's how you talk about a feral animal or a science experiment. Frankly, I think Mora does see Odo as a science experiment. He's curious about Odo's interests only to the point that he thinks it's curious that Odo can have any interests or preferences at all. He doesn't actually respect Odo as a person - he only sees him as something to study.

There's a very small amount of conversation between them at the very end of the episode where Mora says that he never knew how Odo felt about their time at the lab, and Odo agrees to let Mora be a small part of his life going forward, which is supposed to be a start down the road to reconciliation, but it doesn't feel earned. It's cheap and, honestly, a little insulting.

Already, I do not like this man, but the episode The Begotten is where things really go downhill. This episode is supposed to show a proper reconciliation between Odo and Mora. It tries to iron out all of the resentment that Odo still holds about how he was treated at the lab.

It fails, utterly.

This episode starts when Quark acquires an ill changeling infant. Odo is the one to recognize the changeling for what it is, and takes it upon himself to try to teach the changeling about the world and how to shapeshift - made more difficult by the fact that Odo is still stuck in his Humanoid form.

Sisko suggests that Odo get the help of Dr. Mora, citing the fact that Mora had worked with a baby changeling before. Odo flatly refuses. Mora shows up anyways, entirely uninvited, and Odo does not want Mora anywhere near the infant - and certainly not without supervision. We know that Mora's methods for 'training' Odo involved pain and discomfort, and Odo is opposed to allowing the same methods to be used on the infant. He wants to take his time, and let the infant grow and learn at its own pace. But the changeling is slow to learn, and Starfleet is impatient, and, eventually, Odo is coerced into using pain to force the infant to change its shape. This works, and both Odo and Mora are delighted. Both acknowledge the utility of the other's method - Mora says that Odo was correct to build a connection with the infant, because it clearly likes him, while Odo says that the pain was also necessary.

This is supposed to be read as a good thing. The use of electricity and other pain-inducing methods is, I believe, supposed to be read as a 'necessary evil' - like requiring a child to eat their greens or take a bath when they don't want to. It claims that Dr. Mora just wanted what was best for Odo, and that he loves Odo. It even goes so far as to imply that Odo is being cruel to Mora, by keeping him at a distance and not forgiving him for the past.

In my opinion, that is an absolute load of hogwash. What I see is not a parent who tried their hardest but was flawed. I see a man who tortured a child, and now refuses to understand why the child may resent that. Part of the issue is just that it's a really shitty analogy. There is no world in which tossing a child into a Pain Machine is the same as requiring a child to comply with a set bedtime. It's abuse, straight up. I cannot see that as anything other than Mora deliberately causing actual pain to a literal infant. Frankly I do not care that it "got a result"

Now, it's true that, with Odo, Mora did not initially know he was working with a sentient being. But firstly, that excuse doesn't apply to the new changeling child, and secondly, he never once truly apologizes. Throughout, he maintains that what he did was justified because it got results. Even when he acknowledges that Odo's method of building a connection with the child helped, he still believes that the pain he caused was necessary, and that Odo's resentment of him is nothing more than an overreaction.

The episode seems to agree with him. The episode, in fact, seems to think that Odo should be the one apologizing to Mora for not forgiving him sooner! Everything we've seen of how Odo interacts with Mora suggests that Odo was traumatized by him (and I do mean literally traumatized, not just the way the word is now used in pop-culture), and somehow the episode appears more concerned with the fact that Mora is hurt that he's not allowed a place in Odo's life. Odo's discomfort around Mora and around letting Mora near the child is seen as irrational.

Mora never actually acknowledges faults in how he treated Odo. He apologizes that Odo felt hurt, but never actually accepts that he caused it, and when pressed, deflects blame onto the Cardassians and deadlines. This is mirrored in the episode by Starfleet and Sisko giving Odo deadlines re: the infant's development. Odo only turns to using pain on the child because he's running out of time - and then he does use pain, and the infant responds, and Odo decides that Using Pain On Children Is Good. This was written as a spot for Odo to relate to what Mora went through and to sympathize with him, with understanding paving the road for reconciliation, but it just. it pisses me off. This is just the fucking cycle of violence, illustrated in full-color.

(I also disagree with how they wrote Sisko in the episode, tbh. That man adores babies. You cannot convince me that he could hear the word "baby" and not immediately do everything in his power to protect the changeling baby from Starfleet pressure. Like, c'mon.)

So, while the episode sees a 'reconciliation', I see a man who was abused by his father-figure slowly get coerced into using the exact same methods, and then decide that they were correct and justified after all. It reads like a horror story, to me. The message seems to be, "you should forgive your abusers if they're your parent," with a side of, "corporeal punishment is fine and often good, actually," and a little dash of, "it's cruel to go no-contact with your parent, because you owe them for raising you. it doesn't matter what they did to earn that treatment - you're overreacting."

Obviously, I don't believe this is what the writers tried to write. But it sure is what it looks like to me! And I know that I'm not the only one who reads the episode this way.

To be clear, I don't hate Mora because I think he's an abusive 'father' - though I do, certainly, think that - I hate Mora because the writers were entirely unwilling to acknowledge that he's abusive in any real capacity. They wrote an abuser who was actively abusing, on screen, and pretended he was just a normal loving father who screwed up a little, and who didn't deserve how poorly he was being treated. They could have done fantastic things with him! Instead they blindly wrote... that.

[sleepybbywrites]

Happy Little Omega Farms (4) 18+

a/n: future chapters might be kind of slow, chronically tired bean writes things kinda slow sometimes. But thank you all so much for all the support!! I'm glad people are liking the series so far :3

summary: our omega comes home!

warnings: very tame chapter, maybe some swearing

chapter pairing(s): stony (hehe)/ stony x reader/ tony x reader/ steve x reader (all pairings are only mild)

word count: 2.1k~

The process of adopting an omega was usually extremely tedious and required several levels of background checks, letters of recommendation and several mountains of paperwork to be read through and signed. Thankfully, Tony Stark was a pro at getting what he wanted in a timely manner. Before they had even properly started the process of officially getting an omega for their pack, he had already started taking care of the requirements one by one. He had even gone as far as having FRIDAY pull up the absolutely massive pdf file of the contract they would need to read through and sign and searched it for anything amiss. 

The day that you had met the rest of the pack he’d been ready. He had all the documents on hand, as well as a digital copy on file ready to be emailed or faxed or whatever crazy method these people would want. He wanted you. He didn’t want to leave the damn building until you were officially part of the pack. Part of his pack. Tony sat in the chair of the office, bouncing his knee as he waited for the officials to verify the background checks and recommendation letters. He was worried about one particular check. Steve put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing the other alpha’s shoulder firmly. 

“He’s going to pass.” Steve told him quietly. The other alpha remained tense. He already had plenty of reasons to dislike Bucky, he might actually kill him if he was the one thing preventing them from taking home their omega. “Breathe, Tony.. Don’t make me start scenting you while we’re in public.” his words were spoken quietly, right into Tony’s ear. Nobody in the public eye knew there was anything between the two and while Steve didn’t care whether anyone knew or not, Tony knew it would bring problems for them that he’d much rather avoid. So any affection was reserved to hidden corners and private premises. 

“I’m fine.” Tony brushed him off, sinking into the chair he’d been forced into. Steve had said something about him wearing a trail into the floor with his intense pacing. He was also apparently making the beta workers nervous. So he was sitting in the plump little arm chair, bouncing his leg and tapping his fingers against the armrest. He was restless. Every minute felt agonizingly long and he was trying his best not to absolutely lose it at how long it was taking.

Thankfully it was less than five minutes later that the beta in charge stepped out of their office with a folder tucked into her arm and a large tote bag with ‘Happy Little Omega Farms’ written across it. Tony eyed the folder while Steve was trying to peek into the bag. “Congratulations Mr. Stark, Mr. Rogers. You’re all clear to take home your omega. She got the alert and should be packing up her things right now.” The woman handed the folder to Tony and Steve took the bag, looking inside curiously. “Just some goodies and pamphlets. They’re state required and some of the omega’s helped design some of the items.” she shrugged and turned her attention back to Tony. “There will be a random drop-in within the first three months, just to properly assess how the omega is fitting in, but other than that, you’re all good to go once she comes out. Thanks for coming in.” she gave a small nod of her head before returning into her office.

By the time they were all loaded up in the car, Tony was ticked off in the passenger seat. He had a scent blocker smothered beneath his nose, to block out the scent of the clear arousal and sex that lingered on the women in the backseat, including his– their– new omega. Steve forced him into the passenger seat to cool off while he drove the group home. He spent the whole time chatting happily to their new omega, talking about their home, asking what kind of things the omega would like right away. Tony listened intently, planning on securing any and everything the little omega asked for. Tony wanted nothing more than to be in the back seat with the omega, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands to himself. Something about her made his head swim and considering he was supposed to be the brains of the pack, this was a new feeling for him. He’d never ever been so worked up over an omega before. Eventually he pulled his phone from his pocket, attempting to drown his thoughts in whatever nonsense he could find in his emails.

You looked up at the massive home as the car pulled into the long, winding driveway. It was probably the biggest house you’d ever seen and the fact that this was now your home? You could barely believe it.. The car rolled to a stop and Tony was out of the car and opening the door for you so fast. Steve had opened the other side for Wanda and the three of you slipped out of the car with ease. Your eyes were still trained on the house and Tony couldn’t help the small chuckle. “Just wait until you see the inside.” he spoke into your ear quietly, sending a shiver down your back. His hand found the small of your back, leading you up to the front door, using his fingerprint to open the door.

The inside of the house was extremely modern, with beautiful white tiled floors, open window plans which probably looked stunning in the daylight, marble countertops, just the right amount of technology here and there and small hints of feminine touches– likely Pepper’s doing. It was strangely quiet in the house considering how many people lived there and she looked to Tony in question. “I had them all stay in their rooms, wanted to let you have free roam of the place without any of them walking around.” he shrugged softly. “Didn’t want to overwhelm you with a new setting AND having to navigate around new people too.” Tony stepped closer, a hand coming up to your lower back gently. “Here, let me give you the grand tour.” Tony ignored the look Steve gave him and guided you down the hallway for your tour.

Tony pointed out each room they passed, mentioning each room and what you could find inside or why you might like stopping by. He taught you how to use FRIDAY if you were ever unsure of where to go while getting used to everything. The final room he led you to was a massive room with a big comfortable looking bed taking up almost the entirety of it. He cleared his throat softly. “This room is where we were anticipating you making a nest.” Tony explained. “Extremely comfortable bed, a ton of room for you to make the nest and add anything you want into it.” He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly and he walked into the room, sitting down on the edge of the bed, patting the space beside him and looking up at you.

Your feet carried you over to him and you sat down in the space beside him. His hand came up and he pulled you closer until your sides were completely touching. His other hand came up, cupping your cheek with a hand that trembled ever so slightly. Your eyes met with his until the door creaked open. Steve was in the doorway and Tony let out a soft sigh. “Steve..” his voice was strained, his fingers still holding your face. Your eyes flicked over to the man in the doorway before back to Tony. The usually stoic man looked almost pained, as though he was holding himself back.

“You know we need to give her time.” Steve’s voice was stern but it held an underlying softness. He stood in the doorway a moment longer before he stepped into the room, shutting the door gently behind him. He crossed the room in a few strides and he stopped right in front of Tony. Your eyes flickered between the two for a moment, torn between speaking up and watching the two alphas. Steve’s hand came up and rested on Tony’s shoulder. Your eyes followed the interaction, noticing how gentle the touch really was. Tony relaxed and a soft sigh spilled past his lips.

“She just smells so incredible..” Tony breathed out. His voice was tight and his expression seemed to soften as he looked up at Steve. Their eyes met and the authority Steve had always been radiating in your presence seemed to melt away. It clicked for you at that moment. Two alphas in love. It was extremely rare, but here it was right in front of you. Steve leaned down, pressing his lips to the man's forehead. A soft sigh escaped Tony and his eyes shut.

“I know.. We need to let all of our scents acclimate first though.. It’ll make it easier to control when we give her the claim..” His eyes were soft when they met yours and he gave a soft smile, reaching out with his other hand and gently brushing his fingers across your cheek. “Did you get to see your room, kitten?” he asked, a hint of a grin tickled the corner of his mouth. You shook your head softly.

“He showed me where it was but this is the only room we properly stopped in.” You explained, hoping that wouldn’t get Tony in trouble. Steve cast the man a quick look but his blue eyes returned to your gaze quickly, the smile more evident. He stuck his hand out to you and your smaller hand came up, sliding into his hand easily. He tugged you to your feet and he waited for Tony to follow suit before leading both of you towards the door and down the hallway. Your room seemed to be situated in the center of everyone else’s and as the three of you approached, Steve opened the door, revealing the surprisingly spacious room. The room was pretty basic, with a bed, dresser, tv, small couch and a full on ensuite kitchen and bathroom. There were present bags and baskets covering the counters and the bed had a few items on it as well. 

You approached the bed, curious about the items laid out there and you caught the scents of the various members of the pack. You picked up the first item, a red shirt and you pulled it up to your nose, inhaling slowly. It was the man who’d been staring during the meeting. You picked up another item, smelling Natasha’s scent. You realized each of the items here had every pack member's scent on it. A soft rumble emitted from your chest and you let out a soft hum, eyes shutting. You weren’t used to the scents yet, but the idea of having them with your things was one that made your chest warm. It made you feel cared for.

You rearranged the items, making almost a halo above the pillows with all the various items before turning back towards the men. Steve had an arm around Tony’s waist, beneath his suit jacket. He nodded towards all the items on the counters, a silent request for you to take a look at the presents as well. You walked over to the closest one and you reached into the bag, unable to help the soft gasp as your fingers made contact with probably THE softest thing you ever felt. You pulled it out of the bag, revealing the incredibly soft plush blanket. It was a soft blue and covered in little stars and planets. You found yourself unable to help but bring it up to your face, rubbing it against your cheek slowly. Your eyes closed and for a moment you lost yourself in the feeling. HLOF provided plenty for their omegas but never anything this soft. Omegas were sluts for soft fabrics. You had to practically pry yourself away from the blanket, to continue looking at the other gifts. You settled the blanket back into the bag before moving on to the next.

By the time you’d looked through every bag and basket, you had a supply of soft items, snacks, heat suppressants, pain relievers, scent blockers, journals, art supplies, stickers, trinkets. All kinds of different gifts, each one from someone different in the pack. You looked over the gifts a moment and it dawned on you that there were almost enough for each one to be from someone else in the pack, all but one. But you had been properly spoiled, and you didn’t care if any of them had gotten you anything. You found yourself tucked between Steve and Tony, arms around both of them in gratitude. You had a feeling that this would be a better arrangement than you could have ever imagined.

tag list: @mjustag1rl @my-n4me-is-agent

[moonwalkingprincess]

Could you make part 3 of mockingbird?

Mockingbird part 3: Disposable

A/N: Sorry for being late but you guys should be expecting me not always being on time, I do have ADHD after all. I get tired over anxiety, over stimulation, college, social conventions and just won't always have the energy to write. Technically i did finish by thuesday, I just didn't translate it to english...

Anyways... Not everything will be on time. It's just as well that you get used to it.... but i can promise you that I will be start to write part 4 by the end of this week.

__

Part 2

The sun had barely risen when Marshall rushed up the stairs and knocked lightly on the children's doors. "get up! Come on, you're gonna be late!" he called, his voice both tired and stressed.

He entered the hallway where Y/N was making eggs and bacon for breakfast. Marshall ran a hand through his hair, mumbling to himself as he started packing their lunches. He had to go back and forth, really pushing them to get up and get dressed. It took time because Alaina wanted to wear a princess dress and Hailee refused to get up.

"If you don't get up, you're not getting candy this weekend."

Hailee made an angry face and threw the blanket off herself, while Marshall helped her get dressed. Y/N had to convince Alaina not to wear the princess dress, convincing her that her other clothes were prettier.

Marshall's phone buzzed again—another text from the studio. "Need to come in NOW."

"Shit," Y/N heard him mutter from the kitchen and walked toward the sound. He glanced at the clock on the wall. "I have to get to the studio. How the hell am I supposed to get the kids to school when I need to be there in thirty minutes?"

Alaina groggily appeared in the doorway, her hair all over the place. "What’s happening?"

"I need to get to the studio, like now," Marshall said quickly. "But... who’s going to drive you? Mrs. Thompson is off today..."

"I can drive them," Y/N said, sticking her head in with a soft smile, holding a cup of coffee.

Marshall’s eyes widened with relief.

"Really? Could you—? You’d save my life," he said with a frustrated sigh.

Y/N laughed. "It’s fine, Marshall. You go ahead. I’ll handle it."

He paused for a moment, looking at her as if he didn’t quite know how to thank her properly.

"You’re a fucking angel, I love you," he muttered, kissing her on the lips before grabbing his car keys from the hallway table. "I’ll call when I know how long I’ll be."

"Good luck," Y/N called after him as he rushed out the door like a whirlwind.

Behind her, the kids groaned about having to get up. Y/N smiled to herself. The chaos in this house was something she was starting to like more than she’d admit.

The rain pattered against the car window as she turned down the heat and glanced in the rearview mirror.

Alaina was curled up in the backseat, she was mad she wasn’t allowed to go as Belle to school, silent with a little furrow between her brows, while Hailee stared sullenly out the window, arms tightly crossed over her chest. To lighten the mood, Y/N fumbled for an old CD and popped it into the stereo. The soft, familiar intro to "Beauty and the Beast" filled the car.

Alaina smiled faintly and sank further into her seat, her eyelids heavy from sleep and the calm of the music. Hailee, on the other hand... just got more annoyed.

"Seriously?" she muttered, shooting an irritated glance at Y/N. "Are we five years old or something?"

Y/N smiled kindly in the rearview mirror. "It’s for Lainey. She likes this one. Plus, a little classic never hurts."

Hailee snorted and lightly kicked the seat in front of her.

It got quiet for a moment, with only the music and the rain’s pattern.

Then it came—the sharp, childish defiance:

"My dad doesn’t actually like you."

The words hit hard, but Y/N managed to keep her gaze steady on the road. She knew Hailee was angry, not mean. She was trying to provoke. Test the boundaries.

"Oh yeah?" Y/N responded calmly, with a small crooked smile. "He said something different this morning."

Hailee wrinkled her nose and leaned back. "He’s lying. He thinks you’re boring and old.”

Y/N suppressed a laugh—mainly because she knew that Hailee didn’t even have a real definition of "old." 

“He’s seeing someone else behind your back.” she said.

Now that really hurts. You had been cheated on before. Your mind went to your past boyfriends. 

“Who?” you let her get to you. 

"Mom." 

Now you got it. She must see you as the homewrecker. The thing that keeps her parents apart. 

"It’s okay," Y/N said softly. "You can be mad at me if you want. But I’m still going to take care of you and your sister until your dad gets home."

For a moment, Hailee almost looked vulnerable.

She looked away again, out the window, and pulled up her sleeve to wipe away a tear that had snuck down her cheek.

Alaina whispered from the backseat: "Hailee... stop."

Y/N let them be. The music from "Tale as Old as Time" filled the car, creating a soft barrier against the silence.

After a few minutes, Y/N heard a quiet mutter from Hailee: "... You make pretty good hot chocolate, at least."

Y/N smiled to herself.

Small steps. Small hearts learning to dare again.

__

You didn’t have much to do today. You released your latest album a year ago, and it was a success… Your fans kept asking for more music, but it had been difficult. You’d been struggling to find inspiration, but your new role as a stepmom had made you rethink things. You started humming a song and came up with some lyrics...

“I never thought that I could…” you hummed, trying to find words. “I never thought that I could have you? Love you? that there be angels? Nah…” you said to yourself, holding your guitar close to you. You wanted to write a song about how you never imagined yourself as a mom, you actually hated the idea of being a mom. You were the person who grew up on the streets, and the only thing you had potential for was your music. You never thought that was a life for a child, but now that you’ve met Marshall and your life has clearly taken turns, it actually seems possible.

After an hour of thinking about a song, you had an interview. You had a radio interview. Of course, they asked a personal question.

“I’m sorry, babe, but we gotta ask you about your boyfriend,” she asked, and her friend gasped in agreement.. "We have to ask. You and Marshall—how did you two meet?" They let out a little laugh and you rolled your eyes.

“It was after the song 'Disposable.' I wasn't happy over that song, it made me upset, and he found out. He apologized, which I was really surprised about. A lot. And after that, we got to know each other, and I found out he’s more down to earth than I thought."

"So it was after his beef with you?" asked the second girl.

"Yeah." 

"How do you get together with a guy that disrespected you like that?"

"People need to understand that his music is nothing more than that. Music. He does it to create reactions and get free commercials."

Flashback 2 year earlier

You sat curled up on the edge of the couch, arms wrapped tightly around your knees. You had been trying to hold it together, but the words of the song echoed relentlessly in your mind “You’re disposable—plastic pride with a name tag. One verse in and I’m draggin' your whole damn hashtag” 

Footsteps approached—heavy, familiar. You didn’t look up.

“Yo,” Marshall’s voice came from the doorway, softer than usual. “You good?”

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t. What was he even doing in this studio? 

He stepped inside.  “Hey... what’s up?”

Still, you said nothing. Your jaw clenched.

Marshall moved closer, crouching in front of you now. “Talk to me, come on. What’s going on?”

“Are you serious right now?” you snapped. 

He stood slowly, wary. “Do I... know you?”

He didn’t even know what you looked like?

“Guess not. But you sure knew enough to write three verses about me.”

Silence. Long. Heavy.

Then his eyes narrowed slightly—recognition flickering. “Wait. You’re—”

You didn’t let him finish. Your fist flew before your brain could even catch up.

Crack.

His head snapped sideways. The room went dead silent.

He stumbled a step back, hand to his jaw. “What the fuck?!”

“You don’t know me,” you seethed. “You don’t even know what I look like. And yet you called me fake, a leech, a ‘disposable name tag with delusions of meaning.’”

His jaw tightened. He looked at the floor. “It’s hip hop,” he muttered. “It’s how it works.”

“No,” you snapped. “It’s cowardice with a beat behind it.”

“Look,” he said, trying to hold onto his edge. “I heard some shit. About you. The way you were using people’s names to climb platforms—”

“So you made a whole track instead of speaking to me like a human being?”

He said nothing.

You swallowed hard. Your voice cracked. “I’m not a rapper. I don’t have a diss track to answer you with. Just this.” You held up your trembling fist. “And the sick feeling in my stomach when I realized someone like you decided I wasn’t even worth a conversation. Just a punchline.”

He blinked slowly, like your words were hitting him a few seconds too late. “...I didn’t mean to actually hurt you,” he said quietly. “I thought I was... defending the culture. Calling shit out.”

You stared at him. “You weren’t defending anything. You were throwing a grenade into someone’s life for sport.”

He opened his mouth to argue—but closed it. Because deep down, he knew you were right.

Then he looked up at you again, softer this time. The edge in his voice was gone.

“I’m sorry,” he said. Then, after a long pause, “I just... didn’t know how cute you were.”

The room went still.

Your lips parted slightly. You blinked, caught off guard. The tears still sat on your lashes, but now your cheeks flushed hot in a completely different way.

You looked away, biting back the smallest, stunned smile.

“Asshole,” you muttered.

But you were blushing. And he saw it.

A/N: Part 4 will be upp when I have the motivation.

[mechs-headcanons]

Oouuuaaagggghhhh high noon on the brain always......

So here are some of my high noon headcanons >:3c

Mordred has a lot of really Weird skills and random facts in his brain from growing up with the Saxons. He can drink boiling water and eat basically anything. He knows how to prepare most things that the people in Camelot think are inedible and is often Very Confused abt why the other knights freak out about it.

Marius was the green knight! Not tim! Marius was canonically on fort galfridian at some point, and he also wears green! Plus we know hes a romantic so probably values chivalry and honesty to some extent that would allow Gawain to walk away from their confrontation

In the Saxons culture and religion, the heart is the soul and its incredibly important for someone to consume the souls of the deceased so their ideals and their soul continues to live on through other people. If the person hasn't written in their will who they want to carry on their legacy and soul, the priests will pick someone who they believe would do the soul justice going forward or someone incredibly close to the person to eat the heart during the wake.

Blasts Mordred with light sensitive migraine beam. He grew up in the dark his eyes always hurt in camelot

The people on the station are all really small and have long ears. Thwyre like fennec foxes to me.

Ace Mordred!! :D hes just like me frr

The Saxons dont really Care about gender or swxuality. Its all very fluid among Saxons, so Mordred being trans wasnt really A Thing. In Camelot, its not exactly Uncommon to be trans, but it is still a bit more othering than if in Saxon camps, and Mordred is weirded out by it.

Lancelot is the tallest of the pendragon polycule. It used to be Ygraine, but since she died its lance. Arthur is the shortest and frustrated about it. Mordred doesn't have any height either hes smol. Gawain makes fun of him for being small even though hes only a little taller than him.

Galehaut is half Saxon. Hes the tallest knight and has never explicitly Said hes half Saxon, but several of the other knights know/are suspicious. Mordred and Galehaut bond over being Saxons.

Ygraine didnt go with Gwen, Arthur, and Lancelot because she was always more of a healer than a fighter, and Mordred was still young and the caravan needed someone to lead. She was better with a knife than a gun as well, and had a few from various sources.

The caravan died mostly from a combination of dehydration and heat stroke, though a few did die when the raiding party came. Mostly as a mercy on the Saxons part, as the people there were mostly too weak to fight back.

The stations nights are inconsistent in length and when they happen. As time has worn on the automated cycles started getting old and the maintenance they needed was never able to happen, so the times of day can be really long and nights really short, or night could last an actually decently long time.it varies

The Saxons record history mostly through oral storytelling, whereas Camelot has a lot more physical records and writing. Mordred doesnt actually know how to read very well and has to read really slowly.

Ygraine taught Gawain how to ride a motorbike and how to fix up machinery and things like that. She would've for Mordred as well but he was too small.

Guenivere and Lancelot met first, but neither know/remember as it was for maybe a couple hours once a while before Arthur and guenivere met.

Mordred gets really anxious and has trouble keeping up relationships, so he has a tendency to pull away or not talk much, which made a lot of the other knights think he was just a loner. He did want to befriend them, did want to make connections, but he couldn't figure out how to approach or when it was okay for him to join conversations. What I'm not projecting thats crazyyy (/j)

He was also really angry as a kid until he started growing out of it and mellowed out. He gkt into fights A Lot, partly because Morgan got into a lot of fights and he was copying a lot of her behaviour. After a couple months had passed from Ygraine's death, he latched onto Morgan.

I have more but for now I'll stop here djdnsndn

Ive just. Been thinking abt them :3

-✨ whos so normal about Mordred and hnoc I promise <33

OUGH. i’m also. so normal ab hnoc.

[stereopticons]

On This Day in Schitt's Creek: May 1

2019

follow your heartbeat to freedom [david/patrick, G, 4,271] by withkissesfour

He’s always prided himself on making decisions, making them well, making them wisely, but it’s rare that they’re not clouded, directed, guided by the overwhelming need to be liked, an eagerness to please, a desire to be nice, to always be as nice as he can be; and he can’t figure out whether he’s made the right choice once he’s made it. Patrick makes choices, in four parts.

Like Coming Home [david/patrick, G, 6,641] by @erandri

Patrick knows that he likes guys, he's just never put it in so many words. Or, the five times Patrick almost comes out and the one time he does.

steel and oak [david/patrick, E, 4,580] by @helvetica-upstart

“Would you have picked me up in a bar, if I'd been there back when you were looking for randoms?” Patrick asks, pupils blown wide. “I’ve never done that before, I don’t even know what it would be like, but. I can imagine. I'd want it.” or, David has some idle talents; Patrick has some fantasies that would put them to use.

2020

May all your wishes come true [david/patrick, NR, 6,394] by For_pucks_sake

David and Patrick make birthday wishes over the years.

Not Quite Ready [david/patrick, E, 801] by @reginahalliwell

David and Patrick try something new, and David realizes he isn't quite ready.

Solid [david/patrick, T, 959] by @impressionism

After the wedding, after the goodbyes, Patrick steps up to take care of David. That's pretty much it.

The Beautiful Game [david/patrick, G, 1,671] by @popfly

David and Patrick meet at a baseball game.

This Room Will Keep You Warm [david/patrick, T, 3,159] by odofidi

Patrick wakes up one January morning with a terrible head cold. David (with a small assist from Stevie) finds his way through the day.

Unbelievable [david/patrick, G, 488] by @thegrayness

Patrick comes back with lunch for David in The Olive Branch: A Ficlet.

2021

As They Rolled Away [gen, G, 330] by shuisfan79

Stevie watches Johnny and Moira through the car window as their car rolls away.

come home to my heart [ted/alexis, G, 1,822] by @roseapothecary

“Oh, my god — Ted?” Her own voice echoes in her ears and she’s suddenly standing, dumbfounded, outside Cafe Tropical almost seven years ago. Watching Ted step into the bistro felt eerily similar to watching him step off that motorcycle for the first time. It’s the kind of shock that makes the sparkling restaurant tile quake under her Louboutins. Except, this time, the feelings bubbling to her chest are now far more nuanced than she knows how to process — no amount of personal growth or number of self-care retreats with Oprah could’ve prepared her to suddenly come face-to-face with the first person she ever loved more than herself. OR: Alexis has a blind date. It's not what she EX-pected.

Double-Booked [david/patrick, E, 13,171] by @themelancholyvegetable

David books an Airbnb. Patrick books a VRBO. It's the same house. Tropes: There's only one bed; snowed in/forced proximity

Fate Is Kind When You Wish [david/patrick, M, 8,685] by @januarium

There it is, an actual real life shooting star. He’d had a brief period of obsession with Disney’s Pinocchio as a child and had thrown a spectacular tantrum when his parents refused to make shooting stars appear for him on command. Adelina had explained that that was why they were so special. You don’t get all the wishes you want, you only get them if you’re really lucky and you take the time to look. David is pretty sure he's seen a couple before, and those wishes certainly didn’t come true, but he can’t help himself. He stares at the star flying across the sky and thinks as loudly as he can. I wish I knew what’s going on in Patrick’s head.

Gonna Watch You Shine [johnny & stevie, G, 1,127] by @kiwiana-writes

Found Family Feelings: The Johnny & Stevie edition.

In the long reeds of difficulty and pain (that’s where you find the treasure) [david/patrick, E, 3,363] by @redwineandqueer

When the knock comes, Patrick has been pacing his apartment for over an hour. The TV blares, forgotten, in the background and a pile of books are scattered over the coffee table, remnants of his unsuccessful attempts to distract himself from the echoing silence. Because David still hasn’t called.

Rollin' With the Homies [alexis/twyla, T, 9,917] by @sarahlevys

So I know it seems like I live in this, like, super privileged world. Or maybe, like, a rip-off of The O.C. – or even worse, Laguna Beach, ugh! But I swear, I have a totally normal life! Alexis Rose is just your totally average 16 year old with two annoying older siblings, David and Stevie, and a totally normal crush on her best friend, Twyla Sands. It's completely chill. She isn't, like, totally buggin'. AKA: the Clueless AU.

2022

not before 10 a.m. [david/patrick, T, 200] by @dinnfameron

David's not really a morning person? But for Patrick, he might make an exception. Written for the prompt: Someone says “I can’t believe you talked me into this…”

the lie between your teeth [david/patrick, M, 48,126] by @stereopticons

The man–David, 30, 79 miles away–is giving the camera an imperious stare, thick eyebrows knitted together, dark stubble perfectly highlighting his face, lips parted just slightly. The only word Patrick can think of to describe him is beautiful and even that feels inadequate. He stares at the picture for so long, waiting for his brain to come back online, that his phone screen dims and shuts off. AU in which David and Patrick meet via a dating app, or the answer to the question, "what if David's 79-mile-away match from 2x07 was actually Patrick?"

We blend into my favorite color [david/patrick, E, 2,333] by anonymous

After Cabaret ends, Patrick is interested in the idea of wearing makeup again. Him and David explore this in the bedroom.

2023

Drabble Life 2023 [david/patrick, NR, 1,909] by @jesuisici33

new year, new drabbles!drabbles based on weekly prompts from schittscreekdrabbleblog on tumblr

Forever [david/patrick, G, 100] by @legalgal421

David reflects during his wedding.

Spin [david/patrick, G, 100] by @ramonaflow

100 words based on the Tumblr prompt: Spin

2024

“Where words fail, music speaks.” [david/patrick, M, 22,272] by @characterassassination-at-9am

What would happen if we mashed up Noah's lyrics with Patrick's thoughts and words? Title is a quote by Hans Christian Andersen

Ouch! [david/patrick, T, 735] by @a-noble-dragon

One second David’s crouching down to get a box of Rose Apothecary totes from the lower shelf, then the next he’s overbalanced and is falling ass backwards onto the floor right in the middle of the store.

The Beltane Blessing [david/patrick, E, 1,725] by @a-noble-dragon

The Fae realm at Schitt’s Creek is on a different plain to that of the human world. Only at Samhain or Beltane does the veil between the two world’s thin. At those times, the fae peek through the transparent veil to laugh at the humans and their antics. They’re drawn to the joy, abundance, and fertility of the festival which marks the beginning of summer, and is held midway between spring equinox and summer solstice. And sometimes, when the mischief mood is as high as the moon, the fae leave their realm to join in with the fun.

Stats:

No fanworks for 2017 or 2018 2019: 3 fics/15,492 words 2020: 7 fics/14,059 words 2021: 7 fics/38,415 words 2022: 3 fics/50,659 words 2023: 3 fics/2,109 words 2024: 3 fics/24,372 words Total: 26 fics/145,466 words

[eternitylives]

Haikyuu!! Fic Recs

tsukkiyama;

these clumsy first steps by bkakinabottle

I love how it shows the awkwardness of new relationships but also the cuteness of the entire fic in general!!! very them imo

i don't deserve you by basil_lime

cute!!! I can barely even describe this one it's so good! the perfect amount of humor and emotion!!

Anything I Want by todxrxki

I absolutely loved this writing style, also captain yamaguchi??? yes please. I really like how yamaguchi's thoughts are written, feels very in character for him. I really liked how volleyball and love were connected.

Over The Moon (Over The Stars) by daydr3ammz

this is actually my own fic, but I would say it's one of my best works!!! it's a 5 plus 1 sooo.

my fics are only avaliable to signed in users, sorry!!!

kagehina;

i never planned on someone (like you) by spaceburgers

Omg I have no clue about baristas (who does besides baristas I mean) but this was so cute and funny.

6/10 by CheekyBrunette

I don't really read kageyama angst 'cause I don't ever really see one that isn't his canon backstory, but this is new—I love how it dwells into insecurity and social anxiety! and I really love how understanding and accommodating hinata is.

10,787 miles away by zukushou

For some reason I'm very picky with timeskip fics (even worse that there's not many of them) but this one was nice! I liked their interactions, it felt very them.

arankita;

A Perfect Fit by rhiwrites18

I absolutely love how it encapsulates exactly how aran is (or how he seems to me, I guess), and I love his interactions with others people for some odd reason. dialog is so well written and it's a perfect mix of humor and feelings.

you can hear it in the silence by sebootyslay

Most stories surround Aran's feelings, but this one is about Kita's. I really think this really makes sense for Kita's character. This was so cute, I live for small acts of service.

other non-ship centered fics;

off the bench and into the deep end by severalbees

the ones who are usually on the bench on the bench, suga, yamaguchi, ennoshita, narita, kinoshita.

the perfect mix of feelings and humor, it felt very real?? I don't know how to say it properly, all I know is I reread this one all the time and I love how they all interact and just sksksksksk

smells like air salonpas by psidn

(I do wanna say that this fic is for signed in users only)

okay, so this does have some shipping, but it's unrequited, and isn't the main topic of the fic. I love the first years sm and this story really does them justice, it's so cute and funny.

don't talk to me or any of my fourteen children ever again by meregalaxiesandgods

some ships but the main part is each individual person!! i love seeing each member of the team form ukai's pov!!!

I will read more ships, but so far, these are my main recommendations!!!