#all i wanted out of this season was an acknowledgement about those two and how they're dealing without their dad

[havin-fun-imagining-twd]

Trust Nelly's instincts

Aw hey, time for the infamous second pharmacy run

What -- Maggie said that the area where the drugstore is has been empty. Thank God, an uneventful trip sounds great! And nothing has gone wrong with keeping the secret about the barn, so, things are looking pretty good right now. And it's so weird that you thought it looked like Carl had a gun tucked into the waistband of his cargos, right? As if.

Who -- The series is slow-burning, canon-compliant Daryl x Reader. In this chapter, you're joined by Maggie, Glenn, Hershel, Lori, Carl, big brother Shane, Rick, Dale, a cameo by Jimmy, and most importantly: Nelly! (<- she's the horse)

When -- Chronologically after "A near-perfect Sunday," Meaning we're back where we left off in Season 2. This chapter takes place in S02 episode Secrets, and as with all chapters that take place directly in an episode, there is word-for-word show dialogue.

Special note -- The last chapter published was a time skip all the way to Daryl Spinoff Season 1, for those who want a little bit of non-linear fun featuring angst and fluffy yearning

Perspective -- 2nd person

Pronouns - none

TWs - mild language, bad screenshots, some intense scenes.

Masterlist to the rest of the Slowpoke Series :D

Trust Nelly's instincts

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

Morning

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“I feel so special!” you sing. Nervous Nelly is letting you ride her again!

Mr. Greene gave you permission to ride her at your request. In fact, you can’t help but squeal, “Thank you, Mr. Greene!” one last time. You hadn't expected your squeal to travel quite so far, but you see his tiny, far off form turn ever so slightly and raises his hand in acknowledgment. Ha.

Thrice so far you’ve practiced riding on horseback for the pharmacy trip. You’ll be leaving with Maggie and Glenn closer to noon, and the trip might should last an hour and a half to two hours? Maybe less, you don’t know. After target practice, T-Dog is doing an extended search for Sophia today with Carol and Rick, so he’s not coming anymore.

The list is all ready to go. You’re going to look for one of the bio-identical types of progestogen that Lori was prescribed before. She’d miscarried a bunch of times, and finally (finally) her doc had her try it out because Lori had done the research and brought it up. The first trial ended in another loss, as was expected. Except she didn’t get pregnant again that she knew of until now.

As for the Rh shot, you have no idea if it would even work anymore. You don’t know how it’s supposed to be stored or what the shelf life is. But there's a high chance she’ll need it if both baby and her are going to survive.

Ooh, maybe the pharmacy has a manual you can utilize! Like, you have a Merck Manual but it only goes so far.

Either way, your prayer is that Lori and new baby make it to the finish line together. Another loss, now, may be too much for her to handle.

“You’re the sweetest horse, yes you are, sugar,” you coo. “Such a pretty, sweet horse, Nelly, such a sweet, sensitive girl.” *muah!* “I love you, Nelly-belly!”

The snickering you hear is…ah, Jimmy’s.

Side-eyeing him, you make your accent fancy like Blanche Devereaux’s and pretend to glower. “Hmph! It appears young James is jealous of our bond, Miss Eleanor. Pay the boy no mind.” If only your attempt to turn her around like a pro didn’t result in her doing a 360. Twice. In opposing directions when you tried to correct her, oof, that’s embarrassing.

“I thought you’d ridden before.”

“I did for fun when I visited friends at a rez in Oklahoma. We’d hang at the ranch nearby.” You were so painfully homesick the first (and second and third and fourth) time(s) that it’s shocking you chose to go back in one or two-week increments during so many summers. How Zee and Suri survived those entire summers visiting their mom’s side of the family out of state, mostly away from their parents, you may never know. “I learned how to ride a motorcycle there, too.”

“Cool, you know how to ride a motorcycle?”

“Yes indeed!”

He must be so proud of his follow-up: “Do you ride ’em better than you ride horses?”

“Difficult to say when clearly I am a great expert on the saddle, farm boy,” you goof off.

Jimmy just chuckles and brings the brush and hoof pick back to the stables.

You try your hand at having the horse canter (is that the word for horse jogging? Or is that trotting?). It goes okay. You just need to remember to use the reins to slow her down, not your feet, which make the opposite happen.

After 10 or so more minutes of practice during which you go back and forth pretending you’re in the Lord of the Rings or in the Old West, you hop down and hitch her to the fence post so you can pee before you go back to the campsite.

It’s your turn to wash the dishes from breakfast.

What a comfort that this trip is more than likely going to be entirely uneventful. Maggie went with Otis lots of times into town, and then her and Glenn’s trip was fine, too. According to her, the place is now empty. She hasn’t even seen any dead ones for weeks.

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

Mid-morning

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“Glenn,” you murmur when he walks by with the latest bushel of bribery-peaches. He’s staring at the barn a little too obviously again. His skin looks clammy, too. “Did you have another nightmare about it?”

“A really bad one, right before I woke up. I keep—” he shivers. “Every time I look in that direction, it’s like déjà vu.”

“That sucks.” What else to say…“Only a few more days and we can revisit how to tell people. I really think I that time Mr. Greene will see reason. I got a feeling about it.”

“And I’ve got a feeling that they’re gonna bust down the doors and eat us.”

“They wouldn’t bother, you’re too skinny. You should eat more of them peaches,” you joke. “And enough carryin’ food like you’re still the delivery guy.”

“It helps me feel in control,” he admits. “I swear, I almost blurted it out to your brother when I was walking around with the basket just now.”

A shiver runs through you. “Well, thank you for not. Want my mp3 player?”

“No. I want to be able to hear when they break the chains around the door.”

You’re momentarily distracted when Carl walks by with a thick stick in his hands. Does he have a g…no, of course not.

It’s dumb, you thought he looked like he was packing. It was just the way his shirt was puffing out and folding because of the sheath of his knife, duh. Must be on your mind because he’s been asking and hinting more and more about learning.

Just the other day, he asked when you were helping Beth with safety switch drills if you’d teach him, too. You showed him that aspect, but repeated that he’d need express permission from both parents to learn to shoot, and suggested that he go to Uncle Shane to help him ask. Shane’s the best instructor, simply put, more than Rick and T-Dog and definitely more than you.

After standing by the adults (and Jimmy, who's taken on more and more of a role in looking for Sophia) planning the day’s search areas, your nephew takes the shady spot under the awning and leans against the side of the RV. He appears to be carving a point at the end of his stick.

Aw, it’s like the way Daryl sharpens the points of his bolts sometimes. Cute. Cuter still how he’s loving wearing Rick’s deputy hat that he gifted him. Such a little man.

It looks like Beth and Patricia asked to come to target practice again today, good. Jimmy keeps trying to shoot with the gun cocked sideways, it’s pretty funny. His mom will get a laugh out of it, hopefully.

When Shane saunters over and waves you to join, he claps his arm around your shoulders from the side with a “G’morning. Say, I, uh,” he then murmurs in your ear. “I think I need your help for this. You noticed the tracking on him, too, I assume? I saw you do that double-take and I reckon you’re right.”

You trust him entirely but want him to be wrong. Carl would have had to take a gun without permission to be carrying, an idea you don’t like one bit. “It ain’t just the way his shirt’s falling?” you quietly wish.

“I been telling you: trust your instincts. You’re not an idiot.” He briefly touches his forehead to yours, takes another bite from his half-eaten peach and tilts his head toward Carl before leading the way.

“Dude. Nice lid, man,” he tells him regarding the deputy hat, then walks around to the opposite side of the RV with the two of you. “What’s goin’ on?”

Upon getting a closer look, yes indeed, Carl is carrying.

It was well done, tucking it on the same side as the sheath. Makes it easier to miss.

“Were you trying your hand at making a bolt from scratch for Mr. Dixon or just killin’ time?” you comment about his whittling. He wouldn’t have taken a gun just for ha-has, he’s a wholeheartedly good kid. You can’t quite wrap your head around it.

“I was just killing time.”

“Well, it looked cool, punk,” you tell him softly, smiling through the disappointment. Sighing, you crouch and wait for Shane to do the rest.

Carl looks at you, then at his uncle. “I wanna learn to shoot, too. Can you teach me?”

Your brother chuckles as he sits against the RV’s front grille. “Well, man, that’s, that’s up to your parents.”

“That’s what Y/N said.”

Shane nods at you. “Y/N’s right.”

“Can you talk to them? They’ll listen to you.”

Chewing another mouthful of peach, Shane takes his time but is completely serious when he agrees, “We’ll see.”

Let down, Carl nods politely and makes as if to walk away.

You hold out your hand to slow him. “Hey. A moment, little man.”

Shane gently but firmly orders, “Let us see what you got there.”

Slowly, Carl lifts the front right side of his button-down.

“Carl Lincoln Grimes,” you cannot help gasp upon seeing exactly which gun he has tucked into his belt. “That is your mama’s.”

Your brother is staring, visibly pissed. You just know he’s imagining taking a whistling teakettle off the stovetop to help keep his cool.

It wasn’t just any pistol from the bag in the RV. No, that gun is Lori’s.

Shane looks to his left where no one is standing, hurls underhand what’s left of his peach in that direction, and stands. “Thank you,” he grunts, then strides away to get Rick and Lori.

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

Mystery number of uncomfortable minutes later

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

Lori gave Carl a chiding so effective it only needed her to state her disappointment that he’d went behind their backs. She’s so upset. So upset. You’re settled at the picnic table where Carl is awaiting his sentencing.

Briefly, you catch Lori laying her hand on her stomach, her forehead knotted in worry. Hopefully she’ll tell Rick about the pregnancy soon. Guarding this secret will only lead to more hurt the longer it stays a secret. She stands from where she’s been kneeling by you in front of her son, tucks her gun into the back pocket of her jeans, and joins the other adults. Other than Rick and yourself, Shane of course stayed, but Dale is also here.

“Bet you four quarters someone brings up how I started learning gun stuff when I was eight,” you whisper to your nephew, trying to lighten his mood.

Carl doesn’t make a yes or a no, he just sort of looks up at you, then back down at his shoes.

It sounds like Lori’s questioning herself more than anyone. “How the hell did this happen?”

“Well, it’s my fault. I let him into the RV,” Dale explains. (Except, that doesn’t make him at fault.) Here’s the kicker that he reveals, however: “He said that he wanted a walkie, that you sent him for one.”

Your mouth drops. Stealing the gun was out of character enough, but he also lied? That is not like him. At all.

Seeing your appall, Carl bows his head even more.

Poor Lori by taken by such surprise that her childhood accent begins to slip out. “So on top of everything else, he lied?” she chastises, then begins discussing something with Rick, the words too soft to make out.

Whatever they are, your brother must hear. “He wants to learn how to shoot. He asked both me and Y/N to teach him,” he says. “Now, it’s none of my business, but I’m happy to do it. It’s your call.”

“I’m not comfortable with it,” Lori is quick to answer, but her face falls into incredulity when she looks at her husband. “Oh, don’t make me out to be the unreasonable one here. Rick?”

“I know. I have my concerns, too, but—”

“—There’s no ‘but,’ he was just shot!”

Hearing her say this brings to the surface every painful detail of that awful, awful day.

Immediately and unexpectedly, you release a sob. You have to quickly stand and take a few steps away, holding your breath, trying to compose yourself and not make a scene. Shane’s familiar footfall sounds behind you, and you feel him peck a kiss on your head.

The next part of the discussion that draws your attention is your name after Rick mentions something about safe gun handling.

“Y/N, you were doing safety drills with Beth and him just the other day, is that right?”

“Ricky, leave me alone,” you huff. Carl gets up and wraps his arms around you. You hug him back and wonder how scared or responsible for others’ safety he must feel that he’d steal his mother’s firearm.

Lori is resolute. “I don’t want my kid walking around with a gun.”

“But how can you defend that?” Rick counters. “You can’t let him go around without protection.”

“He’s as safe as he’ll ever be right here,” she pleads. She did not need this today, any of this. “Look, everything you’re saying makes perfect sense. It feels wrong,” is the last thing you hear. You become consumed with second thoughts, worries, guilt over the barn. If any of them found out now…

“Do you think I can say something?” Carl whispers, still with an arm around you. “I wanna speak for myself.”

You nod and pat him on the back. “Start with somethin’ to comfort your mother.”

Rick is in the middle of telling Lori, “He’s growing up, thank God. We’ve got to start treating him more like an adult.”

“Then he needs to act like one!” The reprimand stings and you’re not even the recipient. “He’s not mature enough to handle a gun.”

Carl must’ve seen a chance, because he chooses now to speak up. “I’m not gonna play with it, Mom. It’s not a toy.” He walks toward the ring of adults as calm as could be. “I’m sorry I disappointed you. But I wanna look for Sophia and I want to defend our camp. I can’t do that without a gun.”

If you loved that kid any more, you’d explode. Just look at Lori's face, it's plain as day she's thinking the same.

“Shane’s the best instructor I know.” What a compliment from Rick. “I’ve seen him teach kids younger than Carl. Y/N was only eight.”

“I told ya someone would dredge that up,” you say under your breath. Shane raises an eyebrow at you, not being so bold as to smirk.

Carl turns and grins, however. “Guess I owe you a dollar.”

Lori appears to relent, coming to an agreement with Rick. She looks at her son and cups his chin the way she’s done for as long as you can remember.

“You will take this seriously and you will behave responsibly. And if I hear from anyone in this camp that you are not livin’ up to our expectations—”

“—He won’t let you down,” his father promises.

Lori kisses her boy on his head, kisses Rick’s cheek. She then looks at her stomach, looks at you, but averts her eyes so quickly away from yours that it gives you a pause. Something about it hits as eerily familiar, like the night at the CDC.

Red flag.

Not three minutes later when you’re finally finishing your turn on dish duty, she picks up the empty rinse pail. “Are you and Glenn still going to the pharmacy today?”

“Yes. We’re takin’ the horses. Teddy isn’t coming anymore but it will be us two and Maggie.”

“Good. I, um,” she trails off. Again, she won’t quite look at you.

What’s wrong? Did you offend her earlier? “Lore, what’s up?”

“Oh, I’m, I’m just preoccupied. It’ll be interesting to see what target practice is like,” she brushes it off.

“Everything okay with,” and you flit your gaze to her belly.

“Well, there's so bleeding or pain," she answers in a very soft voice. "And I still can’t stand the smell of meat or eggs, so..."

The best you can come up with is about as helpful as a screen door on a submarine: “Thank God we have all these peaches.”

“I cannot tell you how many I’ve eaten,” she begins to chat, seeming grateful for an excuse to change the subject. If only her smile was reaching her eyes. “Half of my body weight is probably peaches at this point.”

“Same,” you snort.

The conversation ends.

You’re left with the disquieting notion that there’s a big red flag you’ve missed.

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

Noon

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Mr. Greene calls your name when you have just dismounted Nelly so you can lead her to the mailbox where you’re meeting Maggie and Glenn. Maggie’s going to adjust the straps on all three saddles before you three set out. You turn to Mr. Greene, happy as a clam that you’ve gotten the hang of riding Nelly and that Carl is safe with both mom and dad at target practice. After this morning’s drama, the rest of the day will seem a breeze!

You look at him.

Hershel’s gaze is too intent and direct.

Your stomach twists.

It’s so direct that a strange sense of dread and defeat presses down on you before he’s said a word.

“I am aware that you and he know.”

This stops you dead in your tracks.

No.

No, he can’t know.

The way he’s peering at you suggests that he can see straight into your mind. “To clarify, I am aware that you and your friend know about whom we are safeguarding in the barn.”

Your breathing turns shallow and quick. “But we ain’t told nobody!” slips out before you can speak with proper grammar and less twang. “W-We haven’t told anybody, sir,” isn’t much of an improvement.

If the old man had pulled a gun on you, you’d be less terrified than you are now.

He’s going to kick you all out and it’s all your fault. It’s your fault, you should’ve — if you’d — how stupid could you have been to — oh, fuck!

Lori’s voice, her words that helped get you through the panic come back to you, “Try this with me, honey.” Slowly in through the nose, out through the mouth. Yet, with this panic comes a curious style of anger that you’re almost tempted to call righteous.

“Sir, we respected your daughter’s wishes and told no one. We, we went ag-gag-” you pause, slow down, regain control over your speech. “We went against what we’ve learned. We kept quiet, and that’s, that’s with an injured man and a child among us. Sir, we are riskin’ their safety,” you very nearly lose your cool when saying.

Breathe. Take the kettle off the burner.

“If you’re of mind to, to kick us off your land for simply,” you swallow, “knowing what’s in there, I am beggin’ you, please, reconsider. Please.” You are unable to look him in the eyes for more than a second.

Unreadable. He’s unreadable.

Why isn’t he responding, at least, so you can know what the verdict is? Swing the gavel, already!

Not knowing what to do, you keep blabbing against the disquieting notion within you that you may be digging a deeper hole. “You ain’t the — I mean, you are not — the sort of man to punish the whole for an honest mistake of the few. You, you, y-you are the sort of man who,” you take a deep breath with palms open in supplication, “Rick and I was two blood-soaked strangers. Carl was a child with a shotgun wound.” How weak your voice sounds, as if already beaten. “You let us in through your doors and saved his life. That’s the kind of person you are.”

He finally answers. “So, you are aware of my reservations regarding your group.”

“We all are.”

“Again, I am inclined to appreciate your plainspokenness.”

A weak giggle.“I would say it’s more I can’t shut my mouth at times.”

Did he just find that amusing? “And yet, you have not spoken of what you know about the sick men and women.”

‘Sick men and women.’ Would it be a lapse of you to not address how wrong he is? If he’s already set to kick everyone out, maybe this is the last chance you have to change his mind.

It must’ve been written on your face because he calls it out. “And you appear to disagree with my referring to them as such.”

“Folk have to die to turn. Their souls have moved on.”

“There should be no indication of memory, in that case. I have witnessed it.”

You stand straighter. “The virus hijacks the deceased’s nervous system,” you say without a hint of a stutter. Maybe this will save you all, your speaking up at this very moment. Shane told you to trust your instincts, and they’re screaming at you to speak up.

“That is your opinion, then?” he asks, but not dismissively. He sounds genuinely curious.

“It is not my opinion, it’s a fact we learned right from the scientist at the CDC,” you risk stating. You're breathing too fast now. It’s making your fingers numb like they did before the panic attack, and your cheeks are so heated you’re beginning to sweat. “My opinion is that letting them walk is akin to desecration of a corpse, a-and I believe those people deserve a burial.”

Okay, it’s done, you’ve said your piece.

And regret it immediately.

Oh, Y/N, you stupid, stupid idiot.

You are not courageous enough to meet his eyes yet because you can tangibly feel his stare.

“Then I must ask you…” Oh, no, you stupid, stupid idiot, Y/N. “…How you could allow such a thing to continue, if you indeed feel so strongly?”

Nelly appears to become agitated.

Your bottom lip begins to wobble. “Sir, w-we need someplace safe.” This conversation is not only defeating, it’s humiliating. “We are completely at your mercy, Mr. Greene, you know this.”

“So at my mercy that you’d allow ‘corpses’ to be ‘desecrated.’”

That word must have really struck a nerve. You stupid, stupid, idiot.

“Th-they’re contained,” you attempt. If he leaves before you can smooth things, it’s on you if your people are kicked out. On. You. And when someone is killed because the lot of you got kicked out, it will be entirely on you, their blood on your hands. The hand you used to stanch the flow from Amy’s neck begins to feel covered in it once more. “They can’t hurt nobody in there, so that’s, um—y-you’re givin’ them dignity and reverence in that way. That’s not immoral.”

The description, you hope will offset the clear sting that the word ‘desecration’ had on him.

It wasn’t all a lie on your part, either. He is clearly trying to give those walkers dignity. He just doesn’t understand that they’re dead and not coming back.

“Y/N, thank you for your candor but please do not feel the need to hold my hand. There are far more troubling outlooks than yours,” he calmly intones. “I surmise that you are not aware that the older gentleman in your group now knows.”

Excuse you? “You mean Mr. Horvath knows?” You stare at your clean, non-bloodied hand to prove that it's not soaked.

“He described having taken a walk near the barn, hearing the sick inside. He was the picture of respect. However…”

You’re starting to feel unstable on your feet. What’s the catch?

“When I discussed this with my family, Maggie was inclined to believe that your friend had told him. This, of course, led to my being made known that the two of you had also made the discovery.”

You lift your eyes through the fear to meet his, one hand on the fence post for stability. “Sir. Are we to leave right quick?”

“No.”

“When should we be ready, sir,” you don’t even bother to make sound like a question. You wipe your hand on your shirt but the feeling of it being sticky with blood remains. “I-I only wish to be prepared.” You stupid, stupid idiot.

“I’ve not made any decision yet on the matter.” He hasn’t made — what? “Young Carl requires more time to recuperate and there’s the sad fact of the young girl being not yet found.”

You grip the fencepost. The group isn’t kicked out?

Mr. Greene continues, unaware that your relief is so intense that you just might float away. “Daryl is not quite on his feet yet, either, and seeing as he is one of the stronger members of your group, it wouldn’t be charitable to — are you well?”

You’re leaned against the post with your eyes closed because you started to see sparkles. Mr. Greene repeats his question.

“Mmhm,” you breathe. “Sir, are you sure you’re not drivin’ us off now?”

There are a few moments where he doesn’t respond. When he does, it’s in a low, soft tone. “You were under the impression I sought you out in anger, to order your group off my land?”

You aren’t thinking straight. Admitting, “If you’d held a gun to my head, I’d have been less scared out my wits,” is completely unintentional.

“Y/N, I,” you hear him sigh. “I am sorry that the prospect is so thoroughly frightening. To answer you clearly: no. I have not made any hard decisions as of yet. For the time being, your people are still recovering and getting settled.”

Rather than the sheer gratitude you intend to convey, you manage one, breathless, solitary: “O-Okay.”

“Oh, child…” He takes something out of his shirt pocket and offers it to you. A handkerchief.

You accept it and use it to blot your eyes dry and wipe your nose.

“It was not my intention to cause so much anxiety. I merely wished to convey my thanks, and to gain assurance that you would continue to maintain discretion. Please accept my thanks,” he softly drawls, careful in his wording. “For the respect and understanding that you and your friend are showing to the sick individuals under my care.”

‘The sick individuals.’ If only they were. He is so convinced that they’re merely sick, that you feel pain for him.

“They are of no threat to your people,” he then assures you. “They are well-contained. My own family would be in danger if they were not, so please, take solace that they are secure. The only way they would get out is if someone took the effort and time to let them out.”

“Okay.” If there’s an elegant way to save the conversation, it’s lost on you.

You do finally look him in the eye for longer than glance. He’s squinting in a way similar to how Rick does. Particularly, he appears concerned.

“Are you feeling well enough to accompany Margaret and the boy to the drugstore?”

You sniff and shuffle your feet. “Yes, sir.”

“You two are experienced in such outings, I’ve gathered.”

“Glenn and I have gone on many. We’re a good team.”

“I think they’re waiting for you by the gate,” he says with a nod toward their direction. “God protect you. And — Y/N? When you’re out there, trust Nelly’s instincts.”

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

35 minutes later

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La-ti-da, the rest of the day will be a breeze compared to this morning’s drama, well, what a clueless little dewdrop you were.

The talk with Hershel notwithstanding, Glenn decided to be the biggest, most embarrassing nerd in the entire world and make the trip the worst, most awkward trip in the world!

Okay, might could be you’re exaggerating.

But he did say to Maggie seemingly out of the blue, “You didn’t have to come. You could hate me from a distance,” to only follow it up with “Please say something.” Like, was the man serious?

Maggie, so far, hasn’t uttered a peep in reply.

You as well are leaning toward saying silent. All you’d said was your short piece when the three of you first set off, explaining what Mr. Greene was talking to you about and that you were taking the rear, thank-you-very-much. The stress and panic from earlier mutated into getting m-a-d.

Although, there was also the brief incident where you, maybe due to being overtired or still out-of-it from speaking with Hershel, started absently giggling over the line from Friends, ‘They don’t know that we know that they know!”

Maggie smiled vaguely when you explained.

From your spot in back it’s really not so uncomfortable and awkward a trip. Every so often, you look behind you and to either side. So far, it’s been all-clear every time. It’s a treat, really.

More houses, spaced far apart, begin to come into view. Soon there are street signs and overgrown sidewalks.

So far, things have been very uncomfortable but entirely undramatic and uneventf—

“Whoa, Nelly belly, you okay?”

Her ears have gone back and she’s resisting going further.

“What’s up? Is there something scary, sugar?” you softly worry aloud. “Margaret, Glenn?” you call.

Maggie looks back to see the horse reacting to whatever is spooking her. Her eyes narrow and she looks all around.

“I know she’s ‘nervous’ but,” you lose your train of thought. “I’ll get off and lead her, Maggie?” you then ask more than decide, but dismount all the same. Don’t want to get reared off like Daryl.

Glenn sits up straight, alert and scanning the area. “Do you think she sees one?”

“I ain’t too sure.” Mr. Greene’s warning to ‘Trust Nelly’s instincts,’ pops into your head. “Maybe she smells one.” Like you'd been taught, you reach up to stroke her t-spot and help soothe her. She mainly pulls her head away from the attempt.

“Try a treat, too,” Maggie suggests. “Eating comforts them into feeling safer.”

You take the butter knife and one of the peaches (don’t worry about running out, you packed 7 peaches) from your bookbag and slice it in half to remove the pit. “I’ll lead her on foot,” you decide.

Maggie seems wary. “We’re almost there.”

She and Glenn go on. Nelly permits you to lead her, so you feel better.

Her instincts are saying it’s okay to go now.

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

5 minutes later

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Maggie had described it as empty. Empty it sure is. It’s nice to see a commercial area that doesn’t have much broken glass or trash.

It does get to you sometimes; when you and Shane went to scrounge for what you could back when the lootings had died down, neither of you smashed things. Why did people smash things? Break stuff, trash stuff, steal stuff? The riots were such bullsh — you’re being uncharitable again. Right and wrong aside, people were panicked and going mad. Not that it’s a good reason, but still, few are immune to mass hysteria. When people are scared or angry, it’s contagious and folk aren’t in their right minds.

Besides, walkers were responsible for some of the smashed glass, namely full-length windows. They ran fast in the onset and getting cut on glass doesn’t bother them.

Anyway, yeah, this area didn’t have much of that, it seems. Granted, you’re at the edge of the ‘downtown,’ but the street looks great, to be honest. A lot of windows in the small buildings are intact.

In a sudden rush of excitement, you call, “Sophia! It’s Y/N and Glenn! Are you here, baby?”

No answer.

“Sophia!”

No answer.

You shake your head and walk faster, Nelly matching your pace.

Looks like the drugstore is ahead to the left. The inside appears pretty bare-bones from what you can tell from the outside.

Now is when Glenn attempts to talk more. “Maggie, I—”

“—I asked for your trust and you betrayed it. Now my dad’s pissed at me.” Maggie immediately claps back. “Your turn.”

“So your dad thinks they’re sick?”

“You know they all do,” you murmur to yourself. God, help them see, you pray simply.

“You agree with that, even after what you saw at the well?” he puts to her, and good on him. She and her dad could use some cold, hard truth. If only her father had seen the walker at the well.

“I’m not sure what I saw at the well,” Maggie answers uncomfortably. She dismounts and moves to hitch her horse to one of the beams in front of the pharmacy.

Glenn looks at you for support before challenging her, “Yes, you are.”

“Maggie, we saw it together,” you agree softly. “Split in half, still biting.”

“And there’s no way a person, sick or not, could survive that!” Glenn exclaims. “Look, if you saw Atlanta, you would not have a barn full of walkers!”

“I wish you would stop callin’ them that!” Maggie yells.

Glenn softens. “What do you call them?”

“Mom. Shawn,” she goes on, tying her horse’s lead with such ease that she hardly needs to look. “Mr. and Mrs. Fischer. Lacey. Duncan.”

It hadn’t really made sense to you until now that, for the Greenes, they are (were?) operating with a confidence that a cure was possible, that their loved ones were only sick. To learn after all these months, after hoping and putting in all that work to keep them ‘safe’, to learn that they have been dead and cannot come back is somehow less bearable to imagine going through.

“I’ll hitch the horses. I’m still worried about Nelly, so I’m gonna stay out here awhile,” you mumble to Glenn, then pull out the updated list you’d made and hand it to him. “I made three more copies. It’s got some updates from the last one.”

“I’ll help you with the reins,” Maggie answers for him, and takes over tying the horse’s lead for him.

Glenn stares at the ground, says “I have my own list,” and goes inside by himself.

That doesn’t irritate at all…

Maggie doesn’t speak until all three horses are securely tied to the poles. “Maybe it should’ve been just you and me today.”

“Glenn’s smart and fast. It’s better to have him here.”

“So smart he can’t keep his mouth shut.”

You have to admit, you groaned in solidarity at her comment. “He’s saved lives before, for what it’s worth,” you do need to point out.

She looks at you, then stares into space. “I’m so angry at him.”

It’s worth mentioning…“Maybe that’s a little how we feel about the barn, too.”

She places her hands on her hips. “Are you on his side, now?” she accuses.

“Come now, that ain’t fair.”

Nelly pulls back, agitated again.

“Baby, what’s the matter?” you shush to the horse. “Margaret, I’m gonna take a turn around the street.”

Maggie cautiously steps around the building, looking to either side while you do the same in the opposite direction.

“It’s clear over here,” she confirms. “Y/N, I’m gonna go inside, finish getting what we need faster.” Was that a scoff? “Lori sure knows how to ask for things. She should go fetch it all herself next time.”

Nope. You get that Maggie’s pissed, but you’re not even entertaining that bullshit attitude about Lori, especially not today. Where’d that even come from? The woman has literally done nothing to her. “Not everything on the list is needed," you offer, "but she makes them thorough because it’s with everyone’s input and needs in mind. Don’t go trashin’ her.”

At this, Margaret storms into the drugstore, leaving you outside, alone.

Good riddance, you were fixing to get huffy. Why can’t people get along and be zen for five minutes, good Moses…

You step quietly and quickly around the street, peeking through the short alleys (if they can even be called that), and making a loop around the pharmacy itself. You swear you hear rattling near the back right corner of the drug store, but Nelly’s loud whinnying mixes with your trying to pinpoint whereabouts it came from.

You call Sophia’s name again, just in case.

However, a raccoon bolting away from the general direction of the sound makes an end of both your worry and your hope. The subsequent thought you get to shoot it for food makes you sigh at the state of things. Moreso the thought that you highly prefer squirrel. But like, squirrel is hecking delicious, so oh my gosh, listen to you.

Having found no reason for Nelly’s unrest, you chalk it up to her being sensitive to the emotions of the humans with her, simple as. Her name is genuinely ‘Nervous Nelly.’

She’s still tugging at her lead, but has quieted enough.

‘Trust Nelly’s instincts’ plays through your mind again. If Mr. Greene thought it important enough to suggest it, it must be. You don’t like that she’s still uneasy.

“Nell, I’m gonna head in so we can get everythin’ and split, okay? Not much longer, won’t be ten minutes.”

You push the doors open and walk into the pharmacy. Glenn’s to the left. “Hey, man. What did you cross off the list so far?” you ask.

“I’ve been distracted. Sorry.”

“Where’s the one you made?” you question with just a hint of an attitude.

“Maggie has it. I wasn’t sure where to find…something on it.”

“Oh, what was it? I’ll go help.”

“I-I, it, she, th—nothing,” he stumbles through before pretending this could work: “I don’t know.”

You lick your teeth. What is with him today? “I’m glad you’re learnin’ to keep secrets,” you let slip in your frustration.

“Great. Now you’ve crawled up my butt, too.” He swipes a lotion off the shelf without looking and goes toward the doors, away from you.

Licking your teeth but holding your tongue, you figure you’ll start at the back of the small store and work your way forward. The prescription drugs are in the back where Maggie already is.

Ooh. The shelves back there look like there’s still a decent amount of stock on them.

“Need any help?” you extend the olive branch.

It’s not subtle the way she turns her head right, glares at Glenn, then answers, “Not for this.”

Whatever the hell that means. Seriously, can people just be zen for five minutes?

You throw your hands in the air. “Fine!” Glancing around the pharmacy section and not really clocking anything because you’re too caught up, you mutter, “There’s gotta be a manual somewhere,” and head left where it looks like there are a few smaller rooms.

There’s a strange scent in here that smells suspiciously like the dead. Must be a rodent that died in the walls?

The door to the first small room looks like it had to be crow-barred open by someone at some point. You step inside to look at the desk.

But the loud whinny from outside gives you a pause.

Trust Nelly’s instincts.

But she’s been acting up for seemingly no reason.

Trust Nelly’s instincts.

The hairs on your arms stand. You turn around, walk back to the middle, and turn your focus to the windows where you can see the horses are still hitched.

“Maggie," you quietly question. "This is normal for her?”

It’s only Nelly who’s rearing and trying to escape. The other horses seem disquieted, but only Nelly is panicked.

Trust Nelly’s instincts.

It’s the clatter of pill bottles falling to the floor that has you forgetting all about the fighting, the disagreements, the worries, and the stress.

Because the sounds of snarling only mere yards away is unmistakable even before Maggie begins to scream.

There’s a walker, reaching through the shelves that has a death grip on her wrist.

You throw yourself hard against the back-to-back storage shelving to keep it from falling on your friend and to push the dead man away from her even slightly.

“Glenn! The shelves, I can’t!” you yelp into the chaos, groaning from the strain of keeping the shelving from toppling over. “It’s got her wrist!”

But in an instant, the shelves abruptly stabilize; you lose balance and tumble hard to the ground. The walker, you twist on hands and knees to see, is rounding the corner and already — no, Margaret! It’s got its hands on her again, it’s gonna —

The few seconds it takes for you, roaring, to whip out your screwdriver and spring up from the floor seem too long, too late. The clumsy angle between it and Maggie at which you attempt to drive your weapon into its skull doesn’t work, and it tumbles from your hand and onto the ground.

The new fastest second of your life — seeing the walker’s mouth lunge for your forearm — seems to also, somehow, drag at a snail’s pace. It’s in that strange, rapid slow-motion that you rip your arm away and kick.

You reach for your pistol in a last ditch effort. The risk of the shot spraying the walker’s contaminated blood in your or her eyes or mouth outweighs the guarantee of its bite.

Ultimately, it's Glenn’s quick action with the metal board that saves you both.

From the countertop, he swings it with all his strength. Though you aren’t aware of having choosen to do so, it seems you’ve pulled Maggie down and back to get her as far from the force of the strike and the trajectory of the walker’s fall.

It collapses.

For a moment, everything turns still.

Maggie is too shocked to cry or say anything. Your arms are wrapped tightly around her even as you still tightly clutch your firearm. You can’t speak, either.

“Did it get you? Did it bite you?” Glenn cries, and you snap back to the present and begin to inspect Maggie’s arms, wrists, and hands while he squeezes her and you to him.

When the walker stands back up, its head hanging by half its neck, you have to cover Maggie’s eyes. She’s seen enough.

Glenn tries to use Daryl’s sickle machete to finish it, but ends up having to try over and over in a fury when it keeps gargling and snarling despite the blows. It’s gruesome.

You shout Glenn’s name and aim your gun at the walker, finishing it when Glenn sees and has moved away far enough to avoid the spray. The blast of the shot reverberates loudly in the closed space.

Finally, finally, all turns quiet and stays quiet. Safety switched on, you rely on muscle memory to tuck your weapon back into its concealed holster.

Glenn is panting. Maggie starts to waver where she stands, sobs coming out as the shock wears off.

You go to her. “It didn’t get you Margaret, look, all clean. J-just a little of its blood on your shirt,” you console, showing her her own wrists and arms that are trembling but blessedly uninjured. You recall the handkerchief in your pocket. “Here. Your daddy lent me this. Use it to wipe your eyes, don’t rub with your hands or arms until we get you cleaned up, o-okay? I-I got wipes, I got wipes and sanitizer. That should suit for now, sweetheart, okay?”

After a few more moments of catching your breath, you decide, “Y’all need something to drink and eat, I’ll, I’ll go get the backpack.” It’ll give Glenn and Maggie time to embrace in private. All is forgiven, you’re quite sure.

Picking up your screwdriver, you walk outside in a post-adrenaline daze. Typical for you, the post-adrenaline nausea is hitting, too. Some tears, as well. You note upon stepping into the fresh air that Nelly is calmer.

Much calmer.

Last you knew, she’d been trying to break free and escape. Right before the walker attacked, in fact…

‘Trust Nelly’s instincts.’

You wonder. If her whinnying hadn’t prompted you to take a few steps back toward Maggie’s direction, would you have had those precious extra seconds of time? Your slamming against the shelves when you did pushed the walker back enough to unsteady it, which bought Maggie the chance to free her wrist from its grasp. It gave Glenn more time to grab that piece off the metal shelving and leap up on the counter to strike it. If you hadn’t turned around because of the horse…

“Trust Nelly’s instincts,” Mr. Greene had instructed.

“Thank you, girl,” you whisper to the horse, with shaking hands blindly opening the bookbag. “I th-think you just saved some lives, Nell.”

Not only this, but the whole awful encounter showed Maggie firsthand that the walkers aren’t sick people. They’re dead. It’s the virus that makes their bodies move and walk and bite.

This terrifying day may just be your people’s saving grace.

Because if Maggie understands, her father will be more willing. And if her father understands, the walkers will be laid to rest. No more danger. No more disagreement.

You’ll still need to leave with Shane, but there’s a better chance that the group will be safe at the farm.

You praise “Thank you!” to the heavens, then boldly press a smooch to the spot above Nelly’s nose. She briefly allows you to rest your forehead there. “And thank you for your instincts.”

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[patheticrafeenjoyer]

genuinely one of the most life-ruining things i've seen today. what the fuck what the fuck what the fuyck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what t the fuck what in the fucking fucking fuck seriously what the fuck im about to start screaming what the fuck what the fuck dnt you know how abnormal i am about them what the motherfucking fuck aHELP ME

[starkwlkr]

she’s always a woman | max verstappen

an: this fic is a special birthday fic for my lovely friend anto!! happy birthday love!! hope you enjoy your special day <3 also let’s just pretend that lewis wasn’t battling max for the championship in 2021 instead it’s max and the reader

tw: jos mention and narcissistic mother

Max couldn’t really remember why your friendship ended. He was always there when you needed a shoulder to cry on, when you had a bad race and needed some support, etc. He was always there so when you stopped talking to him, he was confused and hurt.

KARTING DAYS

At the time, the boys you raced against hated being beat by a girl. It was humiliating! A girl was faster than them? No way! But when Max Verstappen saw how fast you were, he was amazed. You made it look so easy.

“How many trophies do you have now?” Seven year old Max asked you as you two shared a bag of gummy bears, your favorite snack.

“I haven’t counted. What about you?” You questioned.

“I haven’t counted either.” He replied.

It was a long day of practice and all Max wanted to do was spend time with you and eat gummy bears. He noticed how you only ate certain colors like red, blue, orange and yellow. He asked why only those colors and your response was that those colors were your favorites, all the other colors looked unappetizing.

Spending time with you was something Max loved about karting. Most of the boys you competed with would rather lose than hang out with a girl, but not Max. He liked being around you. And it seemed like you liked having Max around too so it made no sense to Max why you stopped talking to him.

As time went on, Jos Verstappen kept a close eye on you. He certainly didn’t want some girl distracting his son. He kept telling Max how much of a bad influence you were, but of course Max didn’t listen. Why would he? He liked you and you liked him.

Unlike Max, your mother’s words went to your head.

“He’s just like the other boys, sweetheart. When you least expect it, he’s going to leave you heartbroken.” Your mother told you one day after another successful win. She watched the way Max stood next to you on the podium and clapped for you.

“But he’s my friend.” You said lowly.

“What did I say about this sport? You are not here to make friends, they are not your friends and neither is he. He’s competition and if you want to keep winning then you need to keep away from that boy!”

The next time Max saw you, he was the heartbroken one. Every time he kept trying to get your attention, you ignored him and turned the other way.

Did I do something wrong? Maybe I forgot her birthday? No, it was a month ago and we ate chocolate cake together.

All day Max was wondering what he did to make you upset. He had even brought a tiny bag with only red, blue, orange and yellow gummy bears for you. He had spent an hour picking out your favorite gummy bears and now you weren’t talking to him. . .

Little Max Verstappen had his first heartbreak at the hands of his first love.

The next day he figured you would start talking to him, but it was like he didn’t even exist in your world. He was starting to lose hope.

“Good, now you won’t have any distractions.” Jos told him after Max mentioned how you had stopped talking to him.

“But she wasn’t!”

“She was.” Jos confirmed.

Max stayed quiet. He knew it was no use trying to argue with his father.

As you both grew up, Max was beside you at every podium even if you weren’t on speaking terms. He hoped that maybe one day you would speak to him. He also kept a plastic bag in his bag with your favorite gummy bears to share with you in case that day ever came.

2021 SEASON

Max was both nervous and excited for the last few races of the season. Both you and him were battling for the championship. It was like a dream come true for him, both of you in Formula 1 and now you’re both in the championship picture. He wouldn’t have it any other way. To Max, it would’ve been better if you could at least acknowledge him.

It was after the Brazilian Grand Prix when Max wanted to congratulate you on your win, but had to wait until you finished with your interviews. He was eager to talk to you.

The post-race interviews were a whirlwind, but the moment that caught your attention was when a reporter, eager for a headline, asked you about Max Verstappen.

“We've heard that you and Max were childhood friends. What’s the story there? You two seem to be fierce competitors now. Was there any friendship left between you, or is it all business these days?"

Your smile tightened. It was the last thing you wanted to discuss, but you were a professional, and you knew better than to let your personal life spill over into the press room. Your gaze flicked to the corner where Max was conducting his own interviews, but you quickly refocused on the question.

“Max and I... we were friends, sure," you said coolly, your voice steady but your tone sharp, almost as if you were trying to distance yourself from the memory. "But that was a long time ago. I don’t really have time for friendships anymore. Racing’s my focus. It always has been."

“But you were so close back then," the reporter pressed. "Is it hard to battle him for the title, given your history?"

You shrugged, trying to maintain your composure. "Racing's not about who you used to be friends with. It’s about who’s the best right now. And I’m focused on being the best."

“So, no hard feelings?" he asked, genuinely curious.

You didn’t miss a beat. "No time for feelings," you replied, your lips curling into a faint, almost imperceptible smile. "Just results."

After finishing all your interviews, you walked back to your driver’s room. All you wanted was to lay down and take a much needed nap, but the sweet voice of a Dutchman stopped you. It had been years since you heard Max say your name.

Before you could say anything, Max stood up abruptly and walked toward you, his stride purposeful. He reached out, grabbing your arm with a firm grip, pulling you into your room without a word.

“Let go of me, Max," you whispered, but your voice cracked.

“No," he said simply, his tone rough, but his eyes were soft—something in them that you hadn’t seen in years. "I’m not letting you walk away again."

Your heart skipped a beat. His eyes searched yours, that fierce intensity you remembered from your childhood still present, though now mixed with something else—pain, perhaps. The unspoken hurt you both carried for so long hung between you two.

“Max," you began, but he cut you off.

“Why did you stop talking to me?" His voice was quieter now, but the question hung in the air, sharp and urgent. “Everyday i asked myself ‘did I do something wrong? Did I say something that hurt her?’ What is is? Why?”

Your throat tightened. You took a shaky breath, your eyes lowering to the floor. "You were my competition," you muttered. "And my mother… she made it clear. She said you would take everything from me. That I needed to stop talking to you or I’d lose everything." Your chest constricted, and you felt a sudden wave of bitterness rise within you. "She said you were nothing more than a threat to my future, and I had to focus—focus on winning.” It pained you to even remember all the talks your mother had with you about Max.

Max stared at you for a moment, taking in your words. The silence that followed was thick, the air between them charged with everything unspoken. Then, slowly, he stepped closer.

“I never wanted to take anything from you." His eyes were filled with a quiet sincerity that made your stomach twist. "I never asked for this. I never asked for us to be enemies."

Your breath hitched as a knot formed in your chest. You stepped back, your hands trembling. "But that’s what she wanted. She wanted me to beat you, to prove I was better. To make sure you didn’t have what I could have." Your voice cracked, the words tumbling out in a flood of emotion you had long kept hidden. "I—"

Your words faltered as you felt the familiar sting of tears threatening to fall. You tried to hold them back, but the weight of it all—the pressure, the competition, the years of silence—was too much. You turned away, pressing your palms to your face, feeling the dam break inside you.

Max didn’t hesitate. He stepped forward, his arms enveloping you in an instant. You stiffened at first, surprised by the warmth and steadiness of his embrace. For a moment, you couldn’t breathe, couldn't think. But then, something inside you snapped, and you collapsed into him, your body shaking as the tears finally came.

Max didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. He just held you, his hand gently rubbing your back, grounding you in the moment.

"I’m sorry," you whispered between sobs. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” You kept repeating.

His grip tightened ever so slightly, as if offering you the comfort and understanding you had been denied for so long. "You didn’t deserve any of that." You clung to him, unable to stop the flood of emotions that had been building for years.

Eventually, the tears slowed, and the sobs turned into shallow breaths. Max didn’t let go. He stayed, a quiet anchor, as if he would hold you for as long as you needed.

When you finally pulled back, your eyes were swollen, your makeup smudged, but you felt something lighter—something like relief, like a door you hadn’t realized was closed had finally opened.

“Does your dad know you’re here?” You wiped away the tears.

“I don’t really care about him right now,” Max responded. He took your hand and brought it up to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand. “You need me right now.”

“Max, I don’t want you to get in trouble. You need to leave.”

“I’m a grown man. He can’t tell me who I can and any talk to.” He said.

“Then . . . I don’t care what my mother says either,” You declared. “You know, she said we couldn’t talk anymore because you were my competition. That I shouldn’t get too close to you. She thought it would make me weak."

“Your mom never understood that... you’re not my competition. You never were. You were my best friend. And I . . . I miss that.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Max.”

QATAR

The camera lights flickered on, and the usual hum of the media circus surrounded Max Verstappen as he sat in front of the press. Another victory under his belt, but the atmosphere in the room felt different today—slightly more tense than usual. The 2021 season was in full swing, and the rivalry between Max and his childhood best friend and fellow F1 driver, had become one of the most talked-about stories of the year.

“Max, earlier this week, someone that you knew quite well was quoted saying, ‘No time for feelings, just results,’ when talking about your past friendship. Given the intensity of your current rivalry, how do you feel about that statement?”

He took a breath and leaned forward, his voice steady but laced with an undeniable undercurrent of emotion.

“she’s one of the most focused and driven people I know. I don’t think anyone truly understands what it’s like to be in her head—how much racing means to her. She’s an artist, in every sense of the word, when it comes to driving. She doesn’t do anything halfway.”

A brief silence fell over the room. Max seemed to weigh his next words carefully.

“We’ve both been through a lot over the years, and yeah . . . I get why she said what she did. This sport can make you say things you don’t always mean. It can make you choose things—like cutting ties with people who used to be your family, just so you can win. But trust me, it’s not easy for her. Or for me.”

His voice softened slightly, the edge of competition giving way to something more genuine—something rooted in your shared history.

“She’s not the kind of person to just forget about things or people. I know her better than anyone,” He continued. It was as if he could talk about you all day and never get bored. “As for the championship, yeah, It’s just the way it is. But that doesn’t change the fact that I respect her more than anyone. She’s a hell of a driver, and I know what she’s capable of.”

Max leaned back slightly, the cool exterior of the driver once again overtaking his emotions. He was a fighter. And this season, he wasn’t just fighting for the title.

ABU DHABI

It had been weeks since your last conversation with Max, but occasionally you would sneak glances at each other. Maybe even smile at him, which caused the media to wonder if your friendship had finally been restored.

The paddock was bustling with the usual pre-race energy—team members darting around, engineers checking telemetry, and drivers preparing for what would be a pivotal race. But Max Verstappen was not focused on the usual chaos. He was standing in front of your motorhome, his jaw clenched as he faced a woman who had been an obstacle in his life for far too long: you mother.

All he wanted to do before the race was to wish you good luck but he had one problem that came in the form of your mother.

“This is a pivotal moment for her career, Max. The championship is on the line. She needs to focus.” Your mother spoke.

Max’s eyes narrowed. “She doesn’t need you to tell her how to focus. She’s not a child anymore. She’s not your puppet.”

She smirked, her gaze calculating. “Oh, I know exactly how to handle her. You, on the other hand, have always been a distraction. Just like you were when you were kids. I told her back then that you were competition. And look where we are now—competing for the championship.”

Max took a step forward, his voice low but sharp. “You don’t get to control her anymore. She doesn’t deserve the way you treated her. She never did. She’s not some tool for you to use to further your own agenda. She’s a person. A damn good one, too.”

Your mother raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a smug grin. “And now you think you have feelings for her? After all these years? You’re wasting your time, Max.

Max’s chest tightened, a sudden rush of frustration coursing through him. He had always felt something for you—something deep and complicated—but he hadn’t realized how much until he saw you again. How could he not? The way you made him laugh, the way you understood him in a way no one else did. The way your presence grounded him when the world felt chaotic.

“I’m not wasting my time,” Max snapped, his voice rising. He was no longer just angry; there was something more vulnerable beneath his words. “I... I care about her. More than you’ll ever understand. And I’m not going to just stand by and watch you tear her down again.”

Her eyes widened, the smugness on her face faltering for just a moment. She hadn’t expected that. But she quickly recovered, her icy demeanor back in place. “You think you can just waltz in and change everything, Max? You think she’s going to forget the way I’ve always looked out for her?”

Max’s pulse was racing now. “You’ve never looked out for her. You’ve held her back. You’ve made her feel like she couldn’t trust herself. Do you know how many times she’s questioned her worth because of you?”

Before your mother could reply, Max spoke again. “If you think for a second that I’m going to back off now, you’re wrong.”

Your mother glared at the Dutchman. “I’ve spent years in Formula 1, fighting for every ounce of respect, and now I’m fighting for her, too. And I’m not letting anyone—least of all you—tell me what I can or can’t feel about her.”

His words hung in the air between them, the weight of them settling in. He turned to leave, but paused at the door of your motorhome, looking back one last time.

“Tell her,” Max said, softer now, “Tell her I’ll be waiting at the finish line. I’ll always be waiting.”

Maybe your mother would pass on the message, maybe not. Either way, Max would still be waiting for you.

The roar of the crowd still echoes in the distance, but it’s muffled, almost surreal, as you stand behind the barriers, your helmet under your arm, heart still racing from the intensity of the race. The buzz of the paddock feels far away, and your body is heavy with exhaustion and disappointment. You finished second—close, but not close enough. Max had done it. He’d won the championship, after all the drama and all the battles that had led them to this final, decisive moment.

You lift your eyes and see him, standing by his car. Max, in his usual composed way, looking like he belongs there, like he's always belonged there, standing among the team and the media, all his focus, all his attention fixed on you. A smile tugs at the corner of his lips when he spots you, but it’s the way he’s standing, waiting, that hits you. Like he said he would.

You hesitate for a moment, thinking about your mother’s words, about everything that has always been said about Max—his arrogance, his rivalry, the fact that he’s always been competition. But this, here, this feels like something different. He’s not the enemy anymore. At least, not in the way they used to think of each other.

You take a breath, and then, almost instinctively, you walk toward him. As you step closer, you hear the whisper of her mother’s voice in the back of your mind, a warning you’ve heard so many times before. Stay focused. Don’t let him distract you. He’s your competition, not your friend.

But your steps don’t falter. You reach him, and when you do, you look up at him, your gaze soft, not the hardened competitive stare it once was. Max’s grin deepens, though it’s filled with something almost bittersweet.

“I heard you were waiting for me,” You said, the words slipping out before you can stop them. Your voice is steady, but there’s a touch of vulnerability in it, something you can’t quite mask.

Max’s eyes soften, and for a moment, it feels like time pauses. He looks at you as if he’s not seeing the driver, the fierce competitor, but the girl he used to know—the one he used to race against in karting, the one who once shared the same dream, the one who still, in some ways, understands him better than anyone else.

“I told you I would,” he replies quietly, his voice low and calm. “I wasn’t going anywhere.”

Your mind flashes back to the words he said to your mother, the promise he made—I’ll always be waiting.

“You won. Congratulations.”

Max’s expression doesn’t change, but there’s a certain warmth in the way he looks at you, a quiet understanding that goes beyond just racing. He takes a step closer, his voice a little softer now. “You’re better than you think. I have a feeling you’ll take it away from me next year.”

You shake your head, but there’s no bitterness in your gesture. “Next year,” you repeat. Your fingers press the edge of your helmet tighter, almost like you’re grounding herself in this moment. But there’s something else too—a sense of peace you haven’t felt in a long time. “Maybe. But I’m just glad you’re here.”

Max’s smile is genuine now. “I’ll always be here. Waiting for you to finally beat me.”

You laugh—a real laugh this time, one that’s not forced. “Maybe I’ll take you up on that one day,” you say, your voice a little lighter. “You should go with your team, I’m sure they’re waiting to drown you in champagne.”

Max chuckles, then steps forward. For a moment, it’s just the two of you, standing in the midst of the chaos, everything else fading into the background. You breathe in, realizing just how much this—this moment—matters more than the championship itself.

“So, Max, you’ve just won the title, but there’s a lot of talk about your competitor. She’s been called ‘too emotional’ in the past by some. What’s your take on how she handled this title fight?”

Max turns towards the reporter, a protective energy surging in him. He absolutely hated doing interviews, all he wanted to do was get back to you. “Well, for one, I think anyone who says she’s ‘too emotional’ is clearly not paying attention. She’s one of the most focused drivers out there. Honestly, anyone who thinks you can compete in this sport at the level we’ve been at, especially in the last few races, without being deeply passionate—well, they don’t understand what it takes.” He glances over at you, who’s trying to hide a smile while also looking frustrated with the question.

While you were a few feet away from him doing your own interview, you could hear Max. You tried hard to listen to the interview questions, but all you wanted to do was listen to what Max had to say.

“isn’t it a bit too much? The way she gets in her own head. She’s been—well, let’s just say, a bit of a perfectionist this season.”

Max shook his head, chuckling at the reporters words. “But, you know, that’s exactly why she’ll be winning a championship someday soon. I have no doubt about it, but I’m excited for the day she takes my championship away.”

Max could hear you burst into laughter at his words. His smile grew ten times bigger. “Seriously, though, she’s one of the most talented drivers I’ve ever known. she’ll steal the show when you least expect it. And maybe she’s a little bit hard to understand at times, but that’s exactly what makes her great.”

The reporter nodded. “Are you saying she’s like, uh, the Billy Joel song?” He asked confused.

Max grinned, clearly amused by the confusion. “She’s always a woman to me. Maybe I’m not the best person to explain it, but you get the idea.”

You chuckled once again as you heard Max. He really had a way with words.

“And one day, I’ll be watching her take the title with the same respect I have for her right now.”

That’s when you decide to step in after finishing your interview. “Maybe, Max. But for now, I think I'll let you have your moment. You’ve earned it.”

“We both did. I owe it all to you.”

[itsclydebitches]

Just finished Good Omens 2 and I'm honestly boggling at the Aziraphale hate because yes, his decision led to the angsty cliffhanger, but it makes SO much sense for his character. Not just in a "Religious brainwashing and sunk-cost fallacy" kinda way but also a "Aziraphale has no reason to believe this isn't the perfect solution" way. That scene among the nebula is crucial because it establishes that Crowley loved being an angel—reveled in his ability to create and allow his creations to grow kinda like plants—and the only problem was that someone else was calling the shots, someone who wouldn't listen to his criticism. Aziraphale has also spent 6,000+ years watching Crowley do good, all the while forced to deny the fact that he's "nice" lest embracing his original nature get him into trouble with hell. Now, Metatron comes along with an offer that fixes everything in one fell swoop. Crowley can be an angel again, be nice without censure, his ideas and criticisms will hold weight because he'll be answering to Aziraphale, and they'll be together.

It strikes me that Aziraphale isn't there when Crowley sees Gabriel's trial, ergo he likewise doesn't see the (non)acknowledgement that there's an institutional problem up in Heaven. There just happen to have been two archangels who called it quits. Same when Gabriel blurts that phrase out to Crowley. Aziraphale has always been more blind to the ways in which Heaven is "toxic" (for very understandable reasons) and this season he's continually sheltered from new evidence of its structural problems. The plot just preaches to the choir: Crowley. He likewise wouldn't see the conflict Gabriel and Beelzebub have caused as evidence of an underlying problem because that's a problem he and Crowley will no longer share. Why would they be worried about Heaven still being unable to accept partnerships between angels and demons when Crowley will no longer be a demon? And that's something he presumably wants based on Aziraphale's memories of him and the ongoing admission that he's lonely.

The way I see it, they got what they thought they wanted at the start of Season 2. Heaven and Hell are keeping an eye on them, but functionally they're left alone. Crowley can spend all the time he wants with Aziraphale and nothing comes of that except that they're both continually named traitors and the higher-ups grumble about it. If Gabriel had never shown up, things should have been perfect based on Crowley's "Let's just run away and have each other's company" standards. Better, even, considering that they get to be together on their beloved Earth, rather than being bored out in Alpha Centauri without any sushi, plants, books, or Bentleys. And yet... Crowley doesn't strike me as particularly happy. Because, you know, based on that kiss he wants to be with Aziraphale, not just literally be with him, but the point of this post is that his "Let's run away and be an 'us'" falls totally flat when he doesn't explain that specific desire to Aziraphale; the desire to change what an 'us' means. From Aziraphale's perspective they're already an 'us.' That was the entire point of "our side" in Season 1 and now they can continue to be 'us' up in Heaven. Plus, Aziraphale likely sees this as a sacrifice on his part. He will give up his bookshop, his Earthly indulgences, take on the responsibilities of leadership (which I don't think he actually wants for a variety of reasons), and spend the rest of eternity in a place where he's felt so small because he thinks that's what Crowley wants. Crowley was happy as an angel. Crowley wanted them to be together without risk of permanent discorporation. They were able to achieve that after not-Armageddon and he still wasn't happy... so surely those two things together will do the trick. Crowley never actually articulates how he wants their relationship to change and the kiss comes much too late, when he's already rejected what Aziraphale must see as a perfect, selfless solution he's secured for them. Even if Crowley wasn't always moving too fast for him, an overture of romance isn't going to go well after that.

Is this crushing and angsty and devastating as a hiatus? Damn straight, my heart it breaking. But it's a good setup. More importantly, it makes perfect sense for their characters, particularly when they're still talking past one another. Aziraphale is someone who has always moved more slowly as a matter of course, as an angel he has remained immersed in the rhetoric of Heaven, his main avenue of breaking free of that (Crowley) has a huge communication problem (to say nothing of his own denial. He only made headway with the help of Nina and Maggie, seconds before Aziraphale shows up), and Metatron (in a no doubt incredibly manipulative manner) has just offered Aziraphale a job that presumably makes him happy AND Crowley happy AND allows him to maintain the moral this-is-how-the-universe-works perspective he's had since he was literally created. Of course he's going to say yes to all that!! And sure, there are problems in Heaven, Aziraphale isn't completely blind, but he can fix them now that he's in charge. How? Well... he'll figure that out later! Kinda like how he's been making plans on the fly this entire season. That seems logical from his perspective, right? It's not like he's gotten a crash-course in the concept of the master's tools never being able to dismantle the master's house...

[gudfornuthin]

Unexpected Comfort

Season 4!Diego x fem!reader, (past) Five x reader

! SPOILERS AHEAD !

! MINORS DNI !

Summary: after finding out the news about Lila and Five’s relationship, Y/N needs to get away from it all. Who knew she’d find comfort in the one other person broken too?

Word count: 2.65k words

A/N: ayooo. I wanna thank everyone for the support I received from my Five fanfic, it means the world to me that people read and enjoy my writing. I’m definitely thinking about ideas for a part 2, and I also have some requests I need to complete, but for now this lil thing popped into my head and I had to make it. My sweet Diego deserved so much more. There’s fluff, there’s angst, there’s a lil bit of smut (I’m trying to get better at writing that lol) so I hope you all enjoy. Feedback is always appreciated

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t want you to find out this way.”

Those were the words that came out of Five’s mouth before Y/N stormed out of the house, leaving behind the shocked faces of the Hargreeves siblings.

Five had cheated on her. With Lila. Diego’s wife, the mother of his children. She felt like throwing up. They’d created a life together, seeming to forget all about the life they had here, in the real world. Five tried explaining how a few hours to her had been years for him and Lila, but Y/N wasn’t having it. She couldn’t imagine giving up on a relationship she’d spent so long working on, like it meant nothing at all. At least they weren’t married with kids. She doesn’t want to think about how much this is killing Diego.

Having left the house, ignoring the calls from the family, Y/N continued walking for what seemed like hours. She wasn’t familiar with this side of town, and the dark streets all blended together. Had she already gone this way? Was there a bus stop she could seek shelter under for the time being? The night was getting colder and she was finding it hard to catch her breath, the tears still flowing. She knew she couldn’t continue on for much longer.

After walking a few more blocks, Y/N finally spots a bar/diner, the lights still on inside. Better than nothing, she thinks, as she slowly makes her way towards it, in desperate need of a drink.

The diner is quiet, only a few patrons scattered around, either drunk or on the verge of passing out. The bar tender nods in acknowledgment when Y/N sits on one of the bar stools, asking what she wants.

“I’ll just have a beer.”

The bar tender rolls his eyes. “What kinda beer?”

Y/N shrugs. “The cheapest one you’ve got.”

He wonders off to sort out her order, as she rests her head in the palms of her hands, closing her eyes and trying not to sob like a baby. The pain in her chest still lingers, as she can’t escape the images of Five and Lila, and the life they had made together. The life that should’ve been hers. With everything going on, she’d almost forgotten about the world ending, again. But that was surprisingly the least of her worries at the moment. She just wanted to scream, and punch and kick anything that got in her way. She needed a cigarette. And she doesn’t even smoke.

“Thought I’d find you here.”

A voice sounds off to the side of Y/N, as she slowly opens her eyes. A beer bottle stands in front of her, and she turns to her left, spotting Diego in the seat next to hers. He looks worse for wear. Red eyes, prominent frown lines, and a pouty lip.

“You look like a kicked puppy,” Y/N mumbles, not knowing what else to say.

“Yeah, I wonder why,” Diego replies in a gruff voice, grabbing for her beer and taking a swig.

The pair go quiet, listening to the soft tune playing through the overhead speakers, dwelling in their own thoughts. The two of them had never exactly been close. Since Y/N joined the family she’d always gravitated more towards Klaus and Alison. Frankly, she didn’t understand why Diego was here with her. Maybe because they were both dealing with the same situation, with both their partners being the main focal point. Or maybe he was just in desperate need for a drink too, as shown when he downs the rest of the bottle. Y/N alerts the bar tender, putting up two fingers to ask for a second round. Hopefully she can actually have some this time.

“Was I a bad husband?” Diego finally speaks up, breaking the somewhat awkward silence.

Y/N glances his way, unsure of how to respond.

She clears her throat. “I dunno if I’m the right person to answer that,” she scratches at the label on the beer bottle. “But from what I saw, you were pretty good at it.”

He doesn’t say anything, so she continues. “And you’re also a good dad. I can’t imagine how hard it was, going from one apocalypse to another, to just living a normal life. Pretending none of it ever happened. You didn’t let that get in the way of taking care of your kids. They know you’re a good dad.”

She notices the tears forming in Diego’s eyes and looks away, knowing he wouldn’t want others to see him cry. She sips her drink, the burning sensation hitting the back of her throat.

“For what it’s worth,” Diego starts, “you’re not a bad girlfriend.”

“I never thought I was,” Y/N bites back, her tone harsher than she wanted it to be. “But what are you supposed to think when the love of your life admits to having an affair?” She laughs bitterly. “With his fucking sister in law!”

“Hey, you’re preaching to the choir here,” Diego says, rubbing incessantly at his eyes. “Just tryna make you feel better.”

“Well you didn’t.”

“Yeah, I got that.”

They bask in silence again, both too stubborn to apologise for snapping at each other. They know neither of them are in the wrong. But the wounds are still fresh, and it doesn’t seem like they’ll heal anytime soon.

Almost an hour passes, along with 9 or 10 bottles of beer between them, when the bartender finally tells them it’s closing time. They both get out of their seats, leaving the bar and standing awkwardly outside in the cold, Y/N shivering having left the house without a coat.

“You cold?” Diego dumbly asks.

Y/N rolls her eyes. “Well done, Sherlock.”

Diego looks as if he’s about to say something in retort, but chooses not to. Instead, he silently slips off his jacket, handing it over to her, insisting she takes it before she can refuse. She does so, mumbling a quiet ‘thank you’. They continue standing outside the bar, watching the occasional car drive past, lighting them up every so often.

“I can’t go back there,” Y/N says. “Not yet anyways.”

It was a stupid thing to think that this could all be avoided. She’d eventually have to face Five properly, let him explain fully what happened during that time he was away. But she couldn’t. She doesn’t want an explanation, or an excuse. She just wants it erased from her memory. To forget about it all. To forget about Five.

Diego puts his hands in his pockets. “Yeah, I’m not in the mood to figure out that shit show tonight.”

He pauses for a beat, then briefly glances at Y/N. “There’s a motel not too far from here. We can grab a couple of rooms, take the time to get some rest, and figure all this out tomorrow.”

She doesn’t say anything, simply nodding in agreement, and following Diego to their accommodation for the night.

***

The pair arrive at the dingy looking motel, booking two rooms next to each other, and muttering quick goodnights. Y/N can feel the exhaustion taking over, as she sits down on the bed, and yet the thought of falling asleep makes her anxious. She can’t remember the last time she went to bed alone. It was always Five right by her side, comforting her if she had any nightmares. Which had become more and more frequent the past few weeks.

She tries distracting herself by turning on the tv, flicking through empty channels and purposely avoiding the news. She takes a shower, scrubbing off the physical and metaphorical grime. It helps her feel slightly better, but still she’s wide awake. She walks laps around the room, which isn’t much considering the bed takes up most of the space. And yet she still can’t sleep.

Her mind wanders to the man in the room next to hers. Is Diego having the same issues as she is? Or has he completely worn himself out to the point of passing out for the next several hours. Is it too forward if she goes over there and asks to stay with him for the night? He could end up giving her a weird look and slamming the door in her face. Or he could see a woman, sad and distressed, and know she’s just in need of someone to comfort her. The risk is worth the reward.

Y/N leaves her room, stumbling slightly over her own feet, the alcohol starting to take effect. She steadies herself, standing in front of Diego’s door and knocking. It takes a moment, but he finally opens, shirtless and hair a mess.

“What’s up?” He says, his voice gruff.

Standing in front of him now, Y/N can’t help but feel stupid. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with her problems right now, not when he’s still trying to figure out his own. The only thing on Diego’s mind is most likely Lila, and getting some much needed rest. This was a bad idea.

“Uh,” she shakes her head. “It’s nothing, no. I shouldn’t have disturbed you, I’m sorry.”

She begins to walk away, trying not to fall over, until Diego’s voice calls her name. She turns, seeing him standing half way out of his room, a sad expression on his face.

“Neither of us really wanna be alone right now,” he says, motioning slightly for her to follow him through the door.

She waits a second, unsure if this was the best idea. Now feeling as if they were both about to cross a barrier that neither of them could walk back through.

Taking the plunge, Y/N silently follows Diego into his room, closing the door behind her. She suddenly felt nervous, unsure as to why. Diego is already back in bed, getting comfortable under the covers, ready for a much needed sleep. Y/N looks at the bed, then towards the small couch, not knowing which one she’s welcome on.

“Diego…”

“It’s fine,” he rolls over, not looking at her. “You can build a pillow wall if it’ll make you feel better.”

Y/N nods, not wanting to admit how glad she was that she could sleep next to Diego tonight. She’d feel this way about anyone at the moment, right? It’s got nothing specifically to do with him. Her mind is racing, as she climbs into bed, hoping to fall into a deep slumber as quick as. She doesn’t build a pillow wall.

***

Barely an hour passes before Y/N is woken up suddenly by a sound. She sits up in bed, eyes bleary and watery, looking around the room with squinting eyes. The bathroom light is on, shining through the cracks, and Diego is no longer beside her.

She hears the sound again, a soft whimper, barely audible. It’s coming from the bathroom, and she can already guess who it is. She slowly scoots out of bed, tiptoeing on unsteady feet towards the door, knocking slightly. No answer. And the noise has stopped.

She knocks again, trying the door handle at the same time. It budges, as she gradually pulls it open. The sight was heartbreaking. Diego sits in a curled up ball in the corner, covering his face, and desperately trying to stop his heavy breathing. He doesn’t acknowledge Y/N’s presence, as she moves over to him, crouching down. She gently grabs his hands, pulling them away to see his red, tear stained face.

“I’ve lost everything,” he whispers, breaking Y/N’s heart more than it already was. “I feel like my life’s over.”

Y/N strokes his hands, trying her best to soothe him in anyway that might work.

“I have no purpose without her,” he continues. “I try saving the world, but I couldn’t save the one thing that matters the most to me. I’m useless.”

“That is not true,” Y/N finally replies, hating these thoughts running through Diego’s mind. “Her actions are not a reflection on you.”

Diego begins to protest, but Y/N quickly shuts him down. “I know how much you care. Sometimes I think you care a little too much. But that just proves how good of a husband and father you were. You did nothing wrong. It’s all on her. And Five.”

She chokes out the last part, almost forgetting about her own problems. They’re both going through this, together.

Y/N doesn’t even realise she’s now crying too, holding her hand up to her mouth to muffle the sound of her sobs. Diego reaches out, pulling her into a bone crushing hug, the pair needing comfort from each other more than anything.

She moves her head back slightly, kissing Diego on the forehead, then the cheek, then hesitating at his lips. Her mind feels fuzzy, as the alcohol in her system still lingers, jumping between the pros and cons of what she’s about to do. Diego makes the decision for her.

The kiss is soft at first, his moustache tickling her upper lip, the sensation of it weird but not unpleasant. She wraps her arms around his neck as he puts his hands on both sides of her face, deepening it into a full blown make out session. Y/N opens her mouth, allowing Diego to slip his tongue in, eliciting a quiet moan from her.

Their current position is uncomfortable, as Diego sits pressed up against the sink with Y/N crouched down in front of him. He pushes her back slightly, so they can both stand, never stopping the kiss. The room feels hot, as they walk out of the bathroom and aim for the bed, Diego sitting down on the edge with Y/N straddling his lap. She quickly removes her top and bra, drawing the man’s attention to her breasts. He moves away from her lips, traveling down until he’s eye level with her chest. He takes one in his mouth, sucking harshly, while his hand massages the other.

“Oh fuck,” Y/N sighs, throwing her head back.

She grabs his hair, pulling a fistful of it, forcing Diego to suck harder. She moves her hips back and forth on his crotch, desperately wanting to get out of the rest of her clothes.

As if reading her mind, Diego pulls back, moving them both higher up the bed, quickly removing his pants as Y/N does the same. Now completely nude, the pair become a sweaty mess of body and limbs, wrapping themselves around each other, and making sounds the other occupants in the motel can definitely hear.

Diego’s thrusts are meticulous, as he hooks one of his arms under her leg, pushing in and out, knowing all the right places to make Y/N scream out in ecstasy. He kisses her lips, her neck, her chest and her breasts, not wanting to leave out any part of her. He makes her feel wanted, admired, needed. Like he can’t breathe without her. It feels good. They carry on into the night, and early morning, for a moment all their problems don’t exist anymore.

***

Y/N wakes up first. Her head is pounding, her mouth is dry, and there’s a dull ache between her legs. She grumbles, the memories of last night rushing back to her in an instant. Some good, some bad, and some unforgettable. A small part of her is consumed with guilt, knowing what she did could be seen as hypocritical.

But as Diego’s strong arm wrapped around her waist pulls her closer to his chest, snuggling into her neck, that feeling washes away. In some selfish way, they both needed this. An eye for an eye, as most would say. It’s not going to end well, and she knows they’ll have to eventually deal with the consequences the same way Five and Lila did, but for now, the rest of the world can wait a while. Y/N turns around, moving impossibly closer to Diego, the man who made her feel wanted at a time where she didn’t think she was.

[groundzerosgirlfriend]

A/n: Just binge watched all three seasons of Dr. Stone and Senku and Tsukasa can do whatever they want to me! Bark Bakrk woof Awooga!

Soft boyfriend Tsukasa: That revived you in this new stone world with the 'miracle fluid' after gathering a strong enough army, to ensure your safety at all times.

Soft boyfriend Tsukasa: That barely wants his right-hand man Hyoga to be around you unless it's absolutely necessary going out of way to forage, fish, and hunt with you.

Soft Boyfriend Tsukasa: That sits beside you for quality time as you sew and talk his ear off about everything that runs his mind and although he could spend his time elsewhere, where else would he want to be.

Soft Boyfriend Tsukasa: That is still as sweet as he was 3,700 years ago instead of carrying your books to school, he carries any prey you caught, any basket of mushrooms, and any firewood (He doesn't want his gorgeous girl working hard, what type of boyfriend would he be).

Soft Boyfriend Tsukasa: That ignores all the other attractive women (much to the disappointment of Minami) in his empire throwing themselves at him much preferring to keep his sights set on you. His one and only.

Soft Boyfriend Tsukasa: Whose heart breaks as you finally see him firsthand destroy a statue of an older gentleman the crumbled rock around his feet and his gut twisting as your eyes prick the slightest tears.

Soft boyfriend Tsukasa: Who doesn't follow after you when your quick leave his vicinity not wanting to pressure you into talking to him, knowing how empathetic you are about a lot of things (It's one of the things he loves about you, but right now it's biting him in the ass).

Soft Boyfriend Tsukasa: Whose heart beats harder than it ever has when comparing it to any of his grueling wrestling matches after a week of silence on your end you sit next to him at the campfire site just leaning your head on his shoulder.

Soft Boyfriend Tsukasa: Who's about to apologize for slaughtering those statues in front of you and explain his reasoning behind his uncouth action is surprised when you tell him 'You don't mind.'

Soft Boyfriend Tsukasa: Who stays quiet with ears open as you express that although you don't like what he's doing, you condone killing innocent people statues or not, but you won't question it or force him to stop knowing it has to be for good reason.

Soft Boyfriend Tsukasa: Who places his huge hands-on top of yours just giving a gentle squeeze of acknowledgement and thankfulness, because in this moment no words need to be said as the fire crackles in front of you two.

Soft Boyfriend Tsukasa: Who is now happier than he thinks he's ever been having both you and his newly revived sister free from her dreaded comatose (with the help of Senku) at his side.

Soft Boyfriend Tsukasa: Who smiles the slightest bit and chuckles softly as he watches from the sidelines you entertain and play with his younger sister grateful that the two of you get along so well and even wondering if one day you would want a family with him. A blend of both of your genes.

Soft Boyfriend Tsukasa: That sacrifices his life with a spear piercing through his lung at the river side when Hyoga attempts to attack you and Miria. The last thing he sees before he falls into the river is you and Senku reaching out for him in a desperate attempt to catch him.

Soft Boyfriend Tsukasa: After his epic battle with Senku at his side he spends his last minutes alive breathing ragged and hoarse with you and the renowned scientist. His head in your lap and holding each other hands as he chuckles at Senku's attempt at small talk.

Soft Boyfriend Tsukasa: That whispers out a barely heard "I love you" but before you can even comprehend it and much less respond his eyes softly close, and his breathing comes to a permanent stop.

Soft Boyfriend Tsukasa: Who unknowingly has you and his sister by his side the entire time he is in cold sleep. Barely leaving the makeshift refrigerator as you tell him stories and talk his ear off knowing that you won't get a response.

Soft Boyfriend Tsukasa: Who when he's finally revived and healed from what were once permanent wounds hugs his teary-eyed little sister and looks around the cave space for you inconspicuously knowing you couldn't be far.

Soft Boyfriend Tsukasa: Who finally spots you in the very back of the group your lip quivering as he cracks the softest of smiles and hold his arms open for you to rush into as you cry and snot all over his bare chest comforting you with the fact that he was alive and well now.

Soft Boyfriend Tsukasa: Who even though was dead for months on end in that cold refrigerator somehow knew that you were by his side the entire time thanking you for never giving up on him.

Soft Boyfriend Tsukasa: Who sits with you on the cave floor simply murmuring low sweet nothings in your ear as you cling onto him as if to make sure he's really alive and well, your head pressed against his chest to hear his heart beating once more.

Soft Boyfriend Tsukasa: Who says "Let me say it properly this time, my dear. I love you."

Extra: Soft Boyfriend Tsukasa: Who could most definitely manhandle you like a little ragdoll but refrains from it since you've never expressed interest in such rough treatment. But after he tosses you over his shoulder to carry you out the cave without asking in the heat of the moment and hears your delighted giggle, he'll be sure to bring that up with you.

[themultifanshipper]

“You utter cunt!”

“Fuck you!”

That was how karting usually ended when you two were involved. No matter where either of you started on the grid, you and Liam always found a way to crash into each other.

I blacked out, and an hour later this monstrosity was born! Hope you enjoy

Also I used alpha tauri bc i refuse to put Visa Cash Card Paypal App Racing Redbulls in my goddamm fics.

Warnings: gn!reader, rough sex, lots of swearing, rivals to lovers, daddy kink, corruption kink, smidge of angst, like 2 seconds of fluff before it descends into madness

“That was my line!”

“You call that a line? Ha! My blind grandmother can see that’s a shit line!”

And you were only thirteen then. Now you were both in formula 1. But unfortunately, the insults hadn’t matured, and neither had you.

“You absolute wankstain! What the fuck was that?!”

“That was me having to crash into my teammate! Because my teammate is a shit driver who doesn’t leave me any room, you fucking prick!”

“Oh, dear! Looks like the alpha tauri duo are having a trackside screaming match... again.”

Crofty sighed. At this point it was almost a weekly occurrence. You and Liam were bitter rivals on track and had been since you started karting all those years ago. It always ended in a screaming match that usually lasted well into the evening, and sometimes all the way up the corridors of your hotel rooms, and one time, it ended with Liam shoving you into your room and fucking you right there on the carpet.

That was one time. And you and Liam had never talked about it. The next day you’d bickered on the private jet, as per usual, and just like that it was forgotten.

Except it wasn’t, not really.

The problem was that Liam had unknowingly taken your virginity that night. And it was, by default, the best sex you had ever had. But your relationship stayed the same and the two of you never even acknowledged what happened. You weren’t obsessed with the concept of virginity either of course, it was what it was, and he was you first, whatever. But it would be nice if he stopped being such a huge prick, you know?

Then came the end of season celebrations in Abu Dhabi. You’d been drinking heavily to forget this nightmare of a season and the fact that you (just you, not Liam) had essentially been threatened to stop fighting next season or you would be out of a seat faster than you could say ‘hypocrisy’.

You tried your best to avoid him all evening. But he kept appearing in your line of sight, on the dancefloor, getting drinks at the bar, shuffling off to the toilets every now and then. You kept drinking so that your vision would hopefully go so blurry you wouldn’t be able to see him at all, but of course with those drinks came the need to pee.

So, there you were in one of the stalls thinking about the face of the man you were trying hard not to think about. Then, said man walked in, crossed the room and the sound of him undoing his zipper was heard.

You knew it was him from his stupid shoes that you recognised very well, as he had once thrown them at your head. That was an incident worthy of getting fired....

Anyway, for some obscure reason (about 7 tequila cocktails) you thought it was a great idea to voice that thought out loud.

“I never told you, but those are the ugliest shoes on the fucking planet”.

There was a pause as he zipped his fly back up.

“Jesus, are you stalking me now? The fuck are you doing in there?”

“Pissing, obviously”

Another pause.

“Right” he said “anything else you want to tell me? Or can I get back to having fun now?”

You rolled your eyes “Yeah actually, you need to stop crashing into me, dickwad”.

He snorted. “And why the fuck would I do that”.

“Because I’m out of the seat next time we crash, and because you fucking owe me, so please just cool it with the- !”

“Wait, why the fuck do I owe you anything? It’s not my fault you can’t drive!”

“Because you fucking took my virginity Liam!”

Okay maybe you weren’t completely over it.

You could’ve heard a pin drop. You desperately hoped there wasn’t anyone else in the stalls.

“What?!”

You were so embarrassed you tried to get out of answering by flushing the toilet and waiting for him to leave.

Obviously, that didn’t work.

“Unlock the door, please” He sounded almost winded, which confused you so much you actually opened the door. He was leaning against the wall and as his eyes snapped to yours, you could see there were tears in them.

Your bewilderment must have been visible because he immediately wrapped his arms around you in a tight bear hug.

“I’m so sorry you’re first time was like that... I’m so, so sorry...”

You pushed him off enough to be able to breathe again “The sex was great Liam, what the fuck are you sorry for?”

He stroked your hair as he spoke, refusing to meet your eyes. “Because... I thought you hated me so I... Your first time shouldn’t be, you know, hate-sex. I thought that was the only way I would get to do it with you so I-   I didn’t know you’d never done it before- it was a spur of the moment thing”.

You were even more confused. “The only way you’d get to do it?  What the fuck does that mean?”

He finally looked at you and he seemed so weirdly vulnerable, so heartbroken that your brain started to catch up, and your breath caught in your throat.

“Do you...” your heart was beating fast as you scanned his face for a reaction “like me?”

He had a pained look on his face and just looked down at the floor. He didn’t like you. It went deeper than that.

“Liam look at me” He did. You didn’t know what to say so you just stared at him.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about that night, you know” he said softly. 

“Neither have I” you whispered, and your eyes met as he looked at you in shock.

You both moved at the same time, crashing your lips and bodies together as the years of tension finally washed away and you were on the same wavelength for the first time.

As you both caught your breath a minute later, he chuckled. “Come on, let’s get back to the hotel. I owe you a do-over”.

And do-over he did.

As in, he did you, over every surface.

It started out sweet enough. He carried you to the bed, undressed you slowly and took his time fucking you slowly, almost maddeningly so. But you both quickly realised that he’d already corrupted you the first time, and now you liked it rough. So he gave it to you. First he flipped you over on the bed, grabbed your hair and pushed you face down into the sheets as he pounded into you mercilessly from behind, occasionally leaving hand prints on your ass, then he took you standing up against the glass windows, one hand around your throat, the other sneaking down to touch you where you were making a mess of yourself.

“Fuck, you like it like this don’t you? You’re basically dripping onto the carpet”.

Then he flipped you and lifted you up, your legs hooking over his arms as he entered you again, the position giving you no choice but to just take it.

“Yes, take it baby, fuck- so tight around me, take my fucking cock” he growled and bit into your shoulder, making you moan. “You’d take anything I give you right? Such a fucking slut for it my god”

His hips stuttered as he had a thought.

“It’s my fault, isn’t it? My fault that you take it like you were made for it, fuck”  his thrusts became even harder as you both felt your highs quickly approaching, your hands were scrambling for purchase on his sweaty shoulders, settling in his hair to give it a sharp tug, his answer was a deep thrust that knocked the breath out of you.

“Fucking made for me. Only I get to see you like this now, don’t I? My little cockslut, all for me. Isn’t that right?”

You nodded quickly, but he made a noise of discontent.

“Words baby, I need words or I won’t let you come. Who do you belong to?”

“You Daddy, please I’m gonna come” you couldn’t help it, the name slipping out as his hips stuttered and he made a punched-out noise.

“Shit- say that again baby, that sounded good”.

You huffed out a whine, now was not the time to be embarrassed “Daddy please, please I need to come so bad”.

He groaned “Okay baby go ahead, come on daddy’s cock, now.”

You came so hard. All over yourself, and it ran down onto his thighs and the feeling of you dripping everywhere sent him over the edge, thrusting a couple more times before stilling, deep inside you as you felt him fill you up.

He carried you like that into the bathroom, setting you down gently in the shower, legs and hips sore from the position and you both spent an eternity in there, soaping each other up and kissing tenderly, trying to make up for lost time.

As you got into bed with him, you checked your phone and saw two things: the alarm for your flight was in 2 hours, and a text that read “does this mean you two will be cooperating from now on?”  from your performance engineer.

Your cheeks burned red, she had the room right next door.

[books-and-omens]

Rather a big thing, by the way, that many of us are probably re-evaluating right now is Crowley consistently not wanting to be called kind or nice. Especially not by Aziraphale.

In S1, that was what triggered the wall slam. ‘Bit of an overreaction, if you ask me’—but in S2 we see more about how strong Crowley’s feelings are on the topic.

In the Job minisode, Crowley vehemently insists that he is a demon. He is so angry at God. When Aziraphale tells him that he is certain Crowley does not want to destroy Job’s children, Crowley takes his glasses off to expose full-demon irises and looks Aziraphale in the eye as requested and says, “I want to”.

Aziraphale is heartbroken over that. His shoulders slump, he exhales shakily, his faith in Crowley has indeed cracked. Look at him:

And then, of course, he figures out the trick, and it turns out that he is exactly right about Crowley. “Well,” he says, and looks vindicated, triumphant, amused.

He was right. He knew Crowley would resist atrocity with everything he has. He knew Crowley would understand it’s an atrocity in a way Gabriel and Michael did not seem to (and neither did those two care). What Aziraphale sees is that, for all of Crowley’s demonic posturing, Crowley came through.

(He remembers the angel that Crowley used to be. So joyful. So happy. So unlike Gabriel and Michael, too: the angel Crowley would never have gone along with killing Job’s children.)

At the end of this minisode, Aziraphale is ready to go to Hell. He thinks he must: he lied, he thwarted the will of God. Crowley, of course, tells him that he is simply an angel who goes along with Heaven as far as he can.

Aziraphale will process this in some way later, but… he won’t process it in the same way as Crowley. Aziraphale won’t reject the idea of Heavenly goodness—Heaven is supposed to be good, that’s the whole point—but he will take note of how, time and time again, Crowley exemplifies this idea when the actual Heavenly angels do not.

Across history, Aziraphale sees Crowley do things that are good. And then disclaim them, reject them, call them something else. A demon could get into a lot of trouble for doing the right thing, Crowley had warned him a long time ago.

Aziraphale will remember this.

Don’t say thank you, Crowley hisses in the Bastille. My lot do not send rude notes.

And the Victorian minisode?

Off my head on laudanum, not responsible for my actions, Crowley tells Aziraphale vehemently after saving Elspeth from suicide. (In Christianity, certainly in the 19th century, suicide condemns a soul; one who died by suicide does not even get a Christian burial. So Crowley has actively diverted a soul from Hell by drinking the laudanum.)

And—look at how indulgently Aziraphale is looking at Crowley as Crowley insists he is not responsible for his actions.

Of course you aren’t, my dear, he seems to think. We both know you did it on purpose, to have a plausible excuse for Hell. But of course we both know that you are in fact responsible for your actions, and that, at great personal risk and cost, you have once again chosen to do good.

So by the end, from Aziraphale’s point of view, Crowley has a much better idea of Good than Heaven itself. And—oh joy!—in the finale, Metatron, the voice of God, finally acknowledges that fact and validates it. Your demon recognized me when nobody else did, Metatron essentially says.

(I just cannot with the ominous dramatic music that plays as Metatron leads Aziraphale out of the shop. Get the FUCK OUT David Arnold, this is so pointed and disturbing. In this season and in the last, the music is narration, it tells us so much without a single word.)

Anyway! Yes! In the finale, Aziraphale is being manipulated, and part of why it works is that he still does not understand Crowley’s motives in insisting he is not nice or good. He has been interpreting Crowley’s insistence solely as protective, which makes a lot of sense from what he has seen. A demon doing good deeds must hide to avoid punishment and pain. Crowley has hid for six thousand years, has gotten used to hiding. Sure, the last four years were different, but even in these years the danger hasn’t gone away, and six thousand years is a long time to set a pattern.

Aziraphale wants to see Crowley happy. He wants to see him—both of them—safe. And here, finally, is an official Metatron-offered way. Heaven is finally admitting and working on its mistakes. Surely Crowley will forgive them? Surely Crowley and Aziraphale can make Heaven better, together? Make into what it should be? (And they would be safe, they would be safe, they would be safe.)

They still haven’t talked. Aziraphale still does not understand Crowley’s choices. In the past, it might have been too dangerous for Aziraphale to know exactly why Crowley Fell, while for Crowley, it might have been too vulnerable a thing to discuss. So they haven’t talked, and Aziraphale does not know the exact questions Crowley had asked, does not know the exact reasons. He assumes.

And his assumptions, oh so well-meant, are going to be catastrophic.

[scourgeofmyownbrain]

I have noticed things about this Bumblebee design, and I can't stay silent about it anymore. (If I do not speak my mind now, I fear I may explode, so please bear with my unhinged screaming, this is good for my health.)

I have compiled my thoughts into a post because I want to spread my insanity like a plague. There are things about this YELLOW MOTHER FUCKER that I can not let go un-acknowledged anymore, THE WORLD WILL KNOW OF YOUR SINS AND I WILL BE THE ONE TO REVEAL THEM

Did you notice anything off or weird about Bumblebee in TFP? Did you? Did you notice? Anything?

BECAUSE I DID

BOY FUCKING DID I

TO begin, this fucker has no eye lids. No, I am not kidding, he never blinks. Ever. Entire show. Not one flutter of a wayward eyelid. Those eyebrows do SO MUCH heavy lifting. There are three other characters (Soundwave, Shockwave, and the Vehicons) that also do not blink, but they have either one big eye and no face or a full face mask, NOT TWO COMPLETELY NORMAL EYES THAT JUST DON’T BLINK

Second, his battle "mask." There are maybe like, 3 instances of a battle mask in the entire show: Optimus, Wheeljack, Bumblebee, and I think that's it. And Bumblebee's is the only one that looks like that, that barely-cover-the-mouth thing it's doing.

Why do his upper arms look so disproportionate to his lower arms? They look too small, the wheel looks like it’s most of the structure and, once again, no one else’s looks like this. Look at his horrific shoulders. What kind of unloving god would make this? (also im like 80% sure his left shoulder is clipping on his body just to accommodate this shot fUCKing hoRriFiC CHoicEs gENTlemen leTs KeeP fUCKINg doing iT)

Exhaust Pipes. I shant say more.

Yes, his insignia is fucking tiny and on his pelvis. Do with that what you will. no one else's is like this why-

Mothers and Fuckers I give you the BANE of My Existence, TFP BUMBLEBEE’S HOLLOW KNEES. Look at those fuckers I can thread a stick right through it. These stupid fucking triangles have been haunting me for YEARS, and, just like his eyes, NO OTHER CHARACTER HAS KNEES LIKE THIS!! I feel nothing but rage looking at this, I hate his knees with a fucking passion I am going to commit 8 felonies

Why do his knee spikes stick out so far? Why. Several other characters have similar spikes, why are Bee’s so far out. The Knees...are probably making it look worse than it is.

HIS FEET ARE TOO BIG FOR HIS LEGS WHY ARE THEY SO MUCH BIGGER! They look like clown shoes, why are they so enormous, they look so disproportionate to the rest of his body. It’s so suddenly too, his feet just abruptly explode out.

Bumblebee has no ankles. All of my emotions have shut off. Everyone else has an their joint is closer to their heel, more in the middle of their foot. Bee’s joint is too far away from his heel, more at the front of his foot. Why iS HIS HEEL SO MUCH BIGGER THAN THE REST OF HIS FOOT!! WHY ARE HIS FEET SO GODDAMN WIDE??

Let's look at a couple other bots to make my point. I'll stick to ones around Bee's size. Wheeljack and Knockout are both 21 feet tall, same as Bee. Knockout has similar wheel placement in his feet and Wheeljack has similar wheel placement in his shoulders.

would you look at that they look fucking n o r m a l. look at their NORMAL KNEES and NORMAL ARMS and NORMAL SIZED FEET THEY DON'T LOOK LIKE CLOWN SHOES HELD ON BY FUCKING STRING

I am having a conniption he is the only one that looks like this.

Would you like some very, very cursed knowledge? Yes, you would: TFP Bumblebee and RID2015 Bumblebee CANONICALLY LOOK IDENTICAL. Like, if you were in the ALC Universe, looking at two photos of him from both the time of TFP and RID15, you would not be able to tell them apart. How do I know this?

LET ME TELL YOU. So, in the episode “History Lessons”, Bumblebee takes his team to the ruins of the Nevada Autobot base, Autobot Outpost Omega One, which we all know was destroyed at the end of TFP Season 2, and they find an old recording from Before the base was destroyed. This recording is of Bumblebee in the base before it was destroyed, and his model is the same as his RID15 one. (see FUCKING above)

You’re probably asking yourself, “But why does that matter, it’s just the show’s different art styles and they needed to make sure we recognized Bee in the recording,” Why? Let me list the ways:

Bumblebee has spontaneously grown fingers in RID15. He only had 4 on each hand in TFP, but in RID15 he Suddenly just had 5. They did the exact same thing with Bulkhead, so I’m not just going crazy.

Bumblebee’s transformation sequence has drastically changed. In TFP he transformed face down head forward, and in RID15 he transforms face up head back. This is significant, and can’t be explained as artistic interpretation, because in TFP season 2 episode 4, Bumblebee drives through a ground bridge after Megatron, transforms then launches himself forward, diving to snatch the spark extractor from Megatron’s hand. You can’t do that if you’re leading with your feet. And It is very obvious that Bee transforms face up in RID15, his feet are the front of the car. I would show you pictures but I am not combing through the shows to find any more images I am so done someone please save me-

"The shows have very different art styles, maybe Bumblebee has just changed how he looks." I hear you say, and Yes. That is something that can happen in canon, Starscream “reformatted himself to his old body type,” which is actually true; his RID15 form looks a lot more like his WF/FOC form, and Soundwave shows up in his TFP form when he’s fresh out of the shadow zone, then he changes his form. We have direct confirmation that characters can change their forms. So there shouldn’t be any problems with Bumblebee’s design, correct?

YOU WOULD THINK, but because the video bee is identical to rid15 bee, but it's supposed to be tfp bee, this makes TFP Bee and RID15 Bee CANONICALLY IDENTICAL. Plus Bee's Rescue Bots Cameos are Identical as well, and one is from TFP time and the other is RID15 time.

The LOGICAL implication is that if TFP Bee and RID15 Bee are identical, then RID15 Bee actually doesn’t have eyelids and does not blink. fucking pains me in places that should not be able to feel pain.

Can you see why I'm insane now?

[forestleavescat]

Moominvalley: Or Not at All

A long post about Moominvalley through the different seasons. Planning, potential, promises, and outcomes.

This won’t go super far into detail about season 4 but it will talk about a certain outcome as well as handling of characters and relationships. If you don’t want any spoilers or info on the fourth season steer clear

(I’m not the best with titles)

I watched season 4 of moominvalley last night and I was pretty dang disappointed in how certain things were handled. Don’t get me wrong. There was some nice stuff. But it still felt like it was largely missing what made me love the show so much from the start. As well as things I had been looking forward to from the books. Above all else, I feel like their handling of the fandom’s favorite pairing was bad. I can’t even begin to put into words how upset I am since gutsy and by extension moominvalley felt like a company that wouldn’t do this. I want to put my thoughts on paper so to speak. 

It’s insanely disappointing to know that this company has been queerbaiting since day one. This show is a huge comfort to me and it was nice to watch since it helped me feel more at ease with my own sexuality. But now that feeling has been largely reversed because I know that those moments were manufactured to sell the show only for them to drop them by the end. So let’s look at things

Queer coding has existed for a long time. It’s helped creators give hints and nods to a character’s identity or hints of a relationship when times and places don’t exactly allow for it. There are many stories that have queer coding and give this beautiful subtext that those in the community can enjoy. Even though it would remain ambiguous whether a character was gay or two men or women were dating, the coding allowed it to be suggested even when it wasn’t allowed given the time period. 

Queerbaiting is almost the opposite of this. Queerbaiting comes about more from existing in a time or place where it is accepted but instead of giving genuine representation, a person uses the desire to see that representation to sell a product. Moments between characters that are clearly more than friendship only to disappear - often replaced by a hetero pairing. (Tbf the character who was implied to have feelings for someone of the same gender would still be bi or pan but it stings when the idea of something between two people of the same gender was suggested but removed) Queerbaiting has been an extremely frustrating thing to experience in fandom spaces. Series like voltron, sherlock, supernatural, etc. You get invested in these characters. There’s a possibility and every moment that suggests it could be more gets you hooked. Similar to how miraculous viewers became invested in the romance that’s hinted since day one. If you put the time and effort into using that for a story and draw people in with it only to take it away it’s bordering false advertising. It sucks because you spent time caring about it and waiting to see how it would play out. 

I mean just look at this. The moominvalley team did this deliberately. I mean, they included that one scene in the teaser which made it seem like more snufmin. It felt like a taste of what the season would offer but in reality it was one of few crumbs. And I mean crumbs. Because compared to the other seasons there was hardly anything. Their moments didn’t have this underlying feeling that they usually did. Every other season felt like it had underlying feelings to be explored. But here it became hollow. And snufkin took a backseat to a lot of the action this season

 But they definitely knew that the fans were interested in this pairing. It’d be tough to get into the moomins without knowing about this part of the story and community. And they acknowledged this idea of moomin and snufkin multiple times in interviews and qnas. 

And voice actors aren’t the ones who decide but there were more than just vas discussing this.

This series started off with their relationship. Episode one ended with the first mention of snufkin who’d be returning to the valley in the very next episode. That entire second episode gave a clear look into how their relationship would develop throughout the series. Moomin waiting for snufkin longingly while snufkin took his time until showing up felt right all while missing moomintroll. This episode has a sort of sense that there could be something more to them. Especially seeing as moomin is more focused on snufkin than snorkmaiden, his love interest. The following episode gives us this:

And while moomin wants the dragon to be his loyal pet, we know that “And just promise me this, that you'll give me all your kisses Every winter, every summer, every fall”

is referring to somebody other than that. This leaned much heavier into the potential for something beyond friendship between them.

There are the usual moments that could go either way, with focus between them and close contact.

This is more similar to other adaptations where they have a clear, close relationship. But in most of those you could come to love the pairing but you generally know they won’t do something unambiguous. Just the occasional scene that could be read as potentially romantic.

Moominvalley doesn’t strictly stick to this though. It feels similar to the original works where there is something ambiguously there. Then it further implies that there will be something important between them storywise. You get Tooticky saying that there are other lost souls waiting to be heard before the camera cuts to Snufkin leaving the valley alone.

And this didn’t really get fulfilled in any real way. Yet it implies that the future of the series will go in a direction where moomin is the one to help snufkin in some way. That part isn’t even romantic, but it goes to show that they stopped focusing on this important connection between them.

Their relationship in season 2 continues very beautifully. Moomin immediately wants to go make sure snufkin is okay when the volcano’s gonna erupt. There’s an entire conversation that highlights their difference of perspective with loving vs possessing in regards to the ruby and the hobgoblin. Something that is linked to their relationship and things they need to figure out. Then when they have to leave the valley, moomin wonders if he’ll ever see snufkin again. On top of that, he and snorkmaiden have their break up.

Which I want to talk about their relationship a bit. A majority of the episodes that feature them as leads do it with a wedge between them. Their relationships is honestly not great going both ways. They clash and are generally unhappy. And usually moomin has to apologize for something that doesn’t exactly feel is entirely on him. Little My I get. I mean he didn’t think the note would get to mymble but this was still a genuine mess up on his part. But he ended up on a rock in the middle of the sea over the ghost episode. And snorkmaiden spends much of their time making a home together getting angry because he misses his family and hasn’t come to terms with saying goodbye to them. There are times they’re together where he’s selfish and she’s just angry at him. They don’t feel like a happy couple to cheer for. Back in 90s moomins I actually did like them. They were cute. I was a bit divided between that and snufmin because there were these moments that really did count for a lot and had such a wholesome feeling. But moominvalley honestly made me cheer for a break up. Meanwhile, he and snufkin have this relationship that they’re navigating in moominvalley. They don’t argue much even when they have different perspectives. Moomin admires snufkin and in some ways tries to emulate him. But all while still being his own moomin and figuring himself out.

The two are still given parallels in little moments such as zooming in when they take each other’s hands.

So back to season 2 and how it handled snufmin. When moomin leaves the valley we see snufkin dealing with that absence for a change. He begins to understand how moomin feels when he’s gone. While he’s at the moomin house he seems pretty in his element for the most part. He seems happy to play along and give toffle an idea of what the moomin family was like. But in that there are scenes where he’s looking for a note. We see bits of how much he misses moomin and wants to know where his friend has gone and when he’ll be back. This is the beginning of a shift in their relationship. Because snufkin gets to feel what moomin feels like. And when he hears that the moomins are coming his face lights up the way moomintroll’s would.

They’re often portrayed in a way that shows that they’re the most important person to the other. There’s this sort of soft undertone that seems to suggest feelings. And all while their relationships grows and changes and they become all the better for it.

Also there’s this

Season 3!

Season 3 felt like there was a change in direction. I feel at this point that there was deliberate queerbaiting but I also know that there was a shift somewhere around season 3. We got the music cut. The voice actor for moomin changed. There were some adjustments with the writing team. But they still deliberately put in scenes with this duo. And with romantic framing. I could be convinced that season 1 and 2 were made with the idea of them as endgame in some capacity. That the queerbaiting wasn’t from day 1 and that it began here. There were really great moments with them. But it feels like they shoehorn snorkmaiden in as a romantic interest again. A lot of episodes with her here don’t exactly make it explicit but there are some that nail it in. They reunite and it almost feels like they’re back together again without a full conversation. Especially with the final episode. I feel like the narrative would’ve been richer if they hadn’t done that considering the way they’ve been building snufmin up.

But I’ll focus on moomin and snufkin for now. When snufkin sees moomin again moomin goes for the greeting he’s been used to but snufkin gives him a hug. That description alone won’t do it justice though. The music rises as it zooms in on their eyes as they make their way to each other. When snufkin hugs moomin you can see the joy from both of them. It shows how their greetings and by extension their relationship has evolved over the seasons.

And then it cuts to snorkmaiden.

This becomes a notable pattern in season 3. It’ll give a really meaningful scene that pushes snufkin and moomin in a more romantic light only to undercut it by reminding you that snorkmaiden is here. It’s at this point where it feels like they know a ton of fans are here for snufmin. They include the pairing. But they also seem to be reminding us that snorkmaiden is here to stay and in a more romantic way. But there’s still this hope, especially if you recall everything from seasons 1 and 2 and the way that they felt. Especially if you rewatch them right before watching season 3. And the show very clearly uses that and makes it feel like there’s a chance. Makes the viewers hope and stick around to find out.

So let’s go through season 2. Moomin and snufkin make some progress on their relationship. They’ve switched positions now and have more of an idea of how the other feels when one of them leaves. And from there they communicate that. Especially moomin. This is shown to a degree in the episode with the fairgrounds. Again in lonely mountain. There are also little nods here and there about their relationship. But again. Lonely mountain is the big one. It starts with little my getting on moomin’s case for worrying over his ‘precious snufkin’

As usual moominmama also seems to act like she knows there’s something more to his relationship with snufkin. Papa remains oblivious though. There’s a parallel between the parents and snufmin too. But the most well known part is this

look. there’s nothing remotely platonic about this. This is one of those things that someone straight and homophobic could detect. The point where they’d stop arguing ‘they’re just friends’ because there’s no way that’s all. I mean just listen to moomin’s “yes” when snufkin goes to add something. There’s so much hope and feeling in that word that I would love to get my hands on the script to find the voice direction for that. I mean come on

And better yet it ends with an interruption so we know they’ll have a whole heart to heart later. A conversation where they lay out their feelings. The feelings that were clearly present here.

Except they don’t

Anyway the season goes on. Moomin, snufkin, and obligatory third wheel sniff go on a journey to take the sun back after it was stolen. They get it back and the season ends with a beautifully queer scene that promises more to come from these two.

Except that a few minutes prior snorkmaiden calls moomin her soulmate and they have their usual thing. And even after snorkmyden really did get some good content this season.

Look, I know that snorkmyden was probably not on their minds throughout production. There’s a difference between the way they handle snufmin and the way they handle snorkmyden. Both duos get great development in their relationships but while there are a ton of cute moments between snorkmaiden and little my, it never feels like there’s a focus on making that endgame. It feels more like snufmin did in some of the other adaptations - something with cute moments and a genuine bond that could be seen as romantic but it’s highly unlikely it won’t be. I want to say this since this series didn’t feel that way for snufmin. It felt like the first chance of it working out fully. I put a lot of scenes in here showing it but the first two season really show it in a way clips and gifs can’t. There’s just so much there and it’s beautiful and sweet. It feels hopeful for them.

Until season 4. Season 4 feels like the team shrugged off all of it. They step even further away. It’s like season 3 but without any of the scenes between them. Suddenly, you’re looking at scenes between them where they talk and have physical contact but the deeper feelings are completely gone. It’s like the anime. Where you can smile about it and think ‘aw them’ but you know it won’t happen. They heavily lean to snorkmaiden and moomin instead. This is the final season. They know people will watch to see if moomin and snufkin go anywhere romantically. And even if people don’t finish it, they’ve got people paying for memberships just to see if it happens. So it doesn’t matter if it doesn’t happen. Because they’ve secured the views and the money.

I do want to say that when I refer to it as becoming canon I don’t know if they’d call each other boyfriends or even kiss. But I would expect them to acknowledge it as there being something more. Like the series ending with them having a discussion about how much they mean to each other. Something that shows they’ll go into the future and continue to get close. Physical closeness like a hug or one putting his hand on the others or even just leaning against each other. Whatever it would be I’d expect more than this. Because they very clearly built these two to be inseparable in that one required the other to undergo their full arc. The show starts with a promise that their relationship will be close to the story. But then season 4 hardly shows snufkin at all

This is what queerbaiting is. And I never expected it to happen with this series. Not after the team talked about it with care. It’s such a gut punch after waiting for five years to see how it’d turn out. I don’t know if they always intended it to be a way to bring in customers. Maybe it was initially going to work out but they changed it between season 2 and 3. I don’t know. But this. This really is queerbaiting. We live in a time where gay relationships are more accepted. They show up in the media more. We’re finally at a time where this relationship could be made more explicit instead of having this ambiguously romantic subtext. And if someone made a new adaptation of moomins and didn’t do that, that would be perfectly and completely fair and okay. If they didn’t consistently imply that there could and even would be something more. But here they used a very old and well loved pairing to gather fans and make money only to never have it come to fruition. Season 4 of moominvalley felt like companies on july 1st. I literally can’t think of a better comparison for how it feels. The first video starts with the quote “The Spring Tune is where we say that this series is going to be different. That you’re going to have to wait and give it time and just be patient. And wait for the story to unfold.”

And so many people did. But then it turned out like this. And I don’t know if that was always the intention. Because it feels like that interview was suggesting that it would go in that direction. But heck. The whole series up until season 3 felt like it would go in that direction. And then it didn’t.

Gay representation is something that has a huge positive impact on the lgbtq community. Even more so on the world overall since it allows people to see these relationships and shows that it’s okay for people to be gay. And it would be even nicer for a series that started off with that subtext got the full representation now that we’re in more accepting times. And it felt like it would be even more meaningful with recent treatment of gay stories.

Our flag means death was cancelled, shadow and bone, the owl house had its final season drastically shortened, good omens is only getting a single episode for their finale

Many are just getting dropped and in a time where this community needs them more than ever. These are shows that make people feel seen. Shows that bring a feeling of joy and comfort and acceptance. And it’s even worse to see that there’s still queerbaiting now. This could’ve had such a beautiful ending and likely would’ve been loved for many years to come if they committed to what they’d built up all this time. How could someone take a series created by a woman who not only added subtext in her original stories but was bi, and use it to build up a romantic story just to bring in money and then toss all that development away. I don’t know what else to say other than this is queerbaiting. And the gay community deserves better. I really did believe that moominvalley would do better by us.

[alastorsbookie10228]

Hello! :D Heard you were wanting some Alastor stuff. How about something fluffy with Alastor and fem reader. Him nuzzling her nose and cheeks, chuckling at her giggles he is bringing out of her. Something simple and sweet.

OMG OMG OMG STOP THIS IS SO CUTE AAAGHHHHH

ok lemme write it now 🤭

Stop, that tickles!

Alastor x fem! reader

soooo reader is southern....like South Georgia southern. simply because I say so, but enjoy it nonetheless.

sorry it's a little short. I couldn't think of anything else...☹️

It was that time. The time Alastor hated the most.

Rut season.

But now he had you, his sweet, Southern darling. The girl that spoiled him rotten with all of her home cooked meals. He was hardly even able to make his famous jambalaya because you scolded him for doing something you were supposed to do. Not that you minded preparing his meals and doing his laundry, of course. In fact, you nearly begged him to let you do those things for him.

But now that he's in a rut, his entire character is thrown off. He refuses to let you wear clothes that aren't his or that weren't made by his tailor, and even then he's doubtful. He'd feed you the hearts and eyes of the foolish sinners who dared look at his most prized possession. And he really didn't like you being away from him.

So that's why you are where you are now. In you and Alastor's shared bed, him marking you by rubbing his face on you, leaving his scent. Frequently, his nose would poke and prod at that one spot in your neck that made you giggle and try to shimmy away from him.

"Alastor, that tickles! quit it!" you squeal through giggles, trying to push his face away. All he does is hum in acknowledgment and continue his acts, much to your displeasure. You try to slide away, but he grabs your waist and tugs you back easily.

After what felt like hours, but was only 30 minutes, he lets up and pulls his face away. He looks down at you with eyes that are droopy with exhaustion and full of love. He smiles softly as you two just look at each other.

You smile back and lean over to press a kiss on his cheek.

"Boy, I done told ya to quit all that. I should be mad at you right now, but you're just too cute to get mad at. Cute as a button, ain't ya?" you say to him, moving your hand to sweep his bangs out of his face.

All he does is hum and lean closer to you and press a kiss onto your forehead.

"I love you, my doe." he says, now resting his head on top of yours.

"I love you too, Al." you say, hugging his waist and curling into him.

[icyg4l]

PAC: How to Enhance Your Beauty!

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. So let’s figure out how you can see yourself as even more beautiful, lovely <333. Hello, beautiful people! From today’s topic, I want to have more of a lighthearted PAC Reading. I’m taking a break from the more plutonic-like topics. In honor of Libra season, I will be focusing on Venusian-esque topics such as relationships and you guessed it, beauty! If you love this reading and are interested in booking with me, please don’t be afraid to read my guidelines and book a reading with me! So without further ado, please choose the photo that resonates with you.

Top Left-to-Bottom Right: (1-3)

Pile One: While pulling for this pile, I heard "take a chance." I also heard the restaurant, Benihana. Some of you may work here or frequent this restaurant. One way that you can enhance your beauty is by taking risks in your appearance. Think more edgy. Think Rihanna circa 2009 or Xtina. Cut your hair into a pixie cut or wear darker makeup (as in black lipstick/heavy eyeliner/etc). There is an emphasis on acknowledging your ancestral roots as well. If you are of Asian descent, you are being encouraged to wear traditional prints more often. If you are Black, then you are encouraged to wear more gold jewelry, specifically rings and necklaces. If you have been meaning to try out the gothic aesthetic, you should do so! It would be fitting for you. Lastly, this is very specific, but if you have a twin, you should take their advice on what to do with your style. They have a very specific vision for how you should dress and it would fit you really well.

Cards Used: 9 of Cups, Death, King of Discs, 2 of Cups, The Lovers, Prince of Swords.

extras: larry june. recently gone through a breakup. waiting to exhale (1995). nowhere (1997). lucki. in the booth. father. painted nails. fresh kicks. shanghai by nicki minaj. funeral reception. 'jesus wept'.

Pile Two: Babyyy, you need to embrace being single. There is nothing wrong with being available to the world. Think of the world as your oyster. Once you adopt this mindset, you will feel more alive. For those of you in a relationship, you need to spend more time with your lover, but you also need to do your own thing. Maintain a balance of knowing when to be alone and knowing when to be by yourself. If you are not in a relationship, you need to put more effort into self-care. Buy yourself flowers. Splurge on that gift for yourself. If you've been wanting purchase something expensive like a guitar, then do so. There is nothing like learning a new skill that will help you in the nearest future. This is very specific but you need to be around people that make you feel grounded/humble. If you have a younger sister/cousin that's a bit snarky, learn from them the importance of prioritizing yourself. Surround yourself with gardens, flowers and nature in general. Learn how to romanticize the simple things. It's all about your perception. You are beautiful already, but you just need to believe it.

Cards Used: Ace of Discs, The Star, The Lovers, Ace of Cups, 9 of Discs.

extras: feeling stagnancy. +3 in uno deck. 45. percocet and stripper joint. "MEEP!" photo-op. reaping the rewards. showing signs.

Pile Three: It's so interesting that I channeled a Cardi B song for you. If you've been paying attention to what's going on with her, you know that she's in the process of going through a nasty divorce. However, she looks much happier without Offset. Pile Three, you need to get rid of any Offsets in your life. Anyone that makes you feel like less of a human being or lowly esteemed is not someone that should be in your circle. This could be a lover, a friend, a sneaky link, etc. It does not matter! Another thing that you should do is upgrade your wardrobe. If you have been looking into purchasing a Coach bag or a Prada bag, then do it! You need no one to assist you with that. You are not anyone's doormat and you do not need a crutch from anyone, unless you ask for it. Don't let anyone feel like you are forever indebted to them. You should increase your water intake, and if possible, you should go to the beach. Reunite with your friends so that you can catch them up on this chapter in your life. Building yourself back up again is a community effort. It cannot be done by one's self. Lastly, book a trip to an island-like place. Once you visit, the water will restore you of your natural beauty. Speaking of natural beauty, you look even better without makeup, baby! Slap on some blush, mascara and lip gloss if you really want to apply some makeup. Keep it au naturale.

Cards Used: 6 of Cups, 6 of Swords, 9 of Discs, Ace of Cups, The Moon, 2 of Wands.

extras: changing clothes. dishes in the sink. "it smells rank". beauty mark on eye. deadpan. pull through. god's strongest soldier. chiseled face structure.

[thebroccolination]

THAMEPO'S RELATIONSHIP (AS OF EPISODE 4)

Back when the teaser (made as an appeal to sponsors) aired in part two of GMMTV's 2024 showcase, and especially after the trailer (cut from the actual series) aired, I thought ThamePo looked like it would become one of the strongest series GMMTV has ever made.

So far, even though we're only four episodes in, it's well surpassing my expectations. Apparently, it's a passion project that the director had in the making for five years, waiting for the right casting to come along, so based on that alone, it's a series made with love. And I have a soft spot for passion projects. <3

Still, the top criterion I judge all series by is the quality of the writing, and since ThamePo's director is also a seasoned screenwriter who developed the script, this is one of the strongest aspects of the series so far.

Over the past four episodes, we've seen our protagonist's flaws (people-pleasing, projecting, temper) and strengths (resourcefulness, observational skill, cleverness), what he wanted (to return to the creative working world) and how it's changing (to reunite MARS). We've met the public version of Thame, the shallow version of Thame that Po misread, and the private version of Thame trying to make amends with his friends. We've met three of those friends (Jun, Dylan, and Pepper) and have hints about the fourth (Nano), and each friend we've met has given us more insight into the kind of person Thame is and what he's done to try and protect his group as the leader.

Since the main conflict of the story appears to be Thame being forced to choose between his band or his new boyfriend—

—Thame's relationship with Po has to move at quite a quick clip so he's emotionally invested enough in their relationship that it's a difficult choice. He's already extremely attached to his friends, so I'd argue one of the biggest challenges in the writing was having him fall in love with Po convincingly fast without it feeling forced by the hand of the screenwriter.

And daaamn has that been well-accomplished, in my opinion.

First, Po gets his Y/N moment.

It's established in the first episode that Thame saw Po at a fanmeeting once and remembered him because Po did something kind for someone when he didn't have to. Presumably because Thame's in a fairly cutthroat industry where people are constantly vying for his attention, maneuvering him like a chess piece, or flat-out ignoring him, that small act of kindness was probably one of the bright points of his day, week, or even month. Especially as things started falling apart with the other members.

In that same episode, we see Po projecting the heartbreak from his previous relationship onto Thame.

And in return, Thame—who spends most of the next episode docilely doing whatever he's told to do by the company—allows some of what he's hidden to show out of frustration presumably brought on by being so thoroughly misunderstood and chastised by a stranger he used to think well of and now suspects of being a sasaeng.

Because both characters are in such vulnerable places emotionally, it translates well to the narrative when they start to depend on one another.

On Po's end, his recent breakup has left him feeling foolish and exposed, taken advantage of by a man who refused to acknowledge Po's sacrifices or show any true appreciation for all the work Po did to see him succeed.

Meanwhile, Thame is alone in every way that matters.

His parents are neglectful,

his friends abandoned him,

and his boss is manipulating him.

At the start, Po is quite literally the only ally he has.

It's because Po kept at him to be honest, to be sincere, that Thame woke up and decided to fight for himself.

And because Thame is doing something for himself for a change, that's what wins back his closest friend Jun.

What I love about this whole narrative is that it's already established from Po's previous relationship that he's the kind of person to give himself entirely to a cause for someone else's benefit. He helped Earn to his own detriment, he picked up a small child so she could see, and he's risking his job to help Thame find happiness and peace.

So it's entirely in-character for him to, say, go through a whole room filled with boxes of rejected song lyrics trying to find one piece of paper that he had to tape back together. Only for it not to matter, because Thame mended fences with Dylan on his own.

I'd argue this is what makes Po think, Maybe I'm too emotionally involved in this. Especially after Jun has point-blank told him that Thame would never be interested in him that way.

We see the moment Po doubts his enthusiastic support of this whole project.

And it's clear that this could have been where it ended for Po.

Until Thame, observant and kind and the polar opposite of Earn, says exactly the right thing to him.

Because that was the major breaking point for Po in his relationship with Earn. He was made to feel disposable. Extraneous. Unnecessary. But Thame recognizes the work he's done, the effort he's put in. He may be reuniting the group for his own satisfaction, but he's not so selfish that he can let Po's contributions go unobserved and unappreciated.

Then, y'know. Thame talks to Po until he falls asleep—

—and serenades him in the morning.

And the thing is! Knowing all we know about Thame—that his parents don't seem to care about him, that he's been isolated from his friends, that he's been made helpless in his own career for so long after being manipulated into signing contracts that restrict his freedom—it makes sense for him to be the one pursuing Po this hard. Just as much as it makes sense for recently heartbroken Po to be interested and yet hesitant.

Setting all of this up in four episodes while covering the entire backstory of MARS and their gradual reunion is a feat of excellent writing. We have a reason to care about Thame and Po's relationship, because it's been clearly shown to us that they bring out the best in each other and that they're willing, even at this early stage, to take risks for each other. We've also got reason to care about MARS, because they seem to be more family to Thame than his own, and they're his current priority.

I'm genuinely thrilled to see such solid writing come from a GMMTV series because as I've said before, they seem more and more recently to chuck first drafts on an assembly line and just assume the fandom will watch anything regardless of the quality as long as certain khuujin are cast as the leads (which, y'know, isn't untrue).

While I enjoy some GMMTV QL series as mindless fluff to watch with friends, there are very few I'd say are written well. Apart from ThamePo, only five other series I've seen have what I'd consider well-executed scripts: Pluto (2024), Be My Favorite (2023), Dark Blue Kiss (2019), SOTUS S (2017), and SOTUS (2016). Sadly, I think Not Me (2022) was on track to be one of the best with its first half, but the production was infamously neglected with episodes cut by GMMTV at the last minute and the script deprived of major edits that left the second half almost shallow by comparison. (Of course, Not Me had a host of censorship issues as well, so we may never know how much that interfered with the quality. It's still an incredible series for its ambition and for Nuchy's directing, and I'll be mad every day of my reincarnation cycle that it didn't get the writing support it deserved.)

Otherwise, nearly every GMMTV series I've seen has at least one major basic storytelling flaw (no character arc, a sloppy resolution, unconvincing setup, weak characterization, excess filler, etc.), and they seem to be first drafts with very little depth. With that in mind, I hope to see ThamePo do well enough that it sends a message to GMMTV that they should focus more on the writing of their series. I think based on what we've seen in the first four episodes and in the trailer, the script quality is reliable, and ThamePo's relationship may be one of the best-written we've seen yet. <3

[beauspot]

Good Omens Is a Big Deal

With everything going on I haven’t acknowledged how grateful I am for what Neil (and John) did this season. I always saw Good Omens as a romantic story and everyone involved seemed to be super supportive of that. To actually see a follow through on those themes was wonderful though. To see Aziraphale continue to look at Crowley like he’s the earth, the moon, and the stars. To see Crowley continue to save his angel not because he needs them to, but because they love him.

To see them have their dinners, and give the other access to their prized possessions. To see them dance. They love each other. They are in love with each other and it’s not implied or a throwaway line that can be edited out.

It’s the beating heart at the center of the story.

And they weren’t meant to be. Neil himself will tell you when he and Terry wrote the book Aziraphale and Crowley were meant to be friends and that’s it. Over time their relationship evolved and where a lot of writers would simply ignore that and keep pushing forward Neil pivoted and said “you know what? let’s see where this goes.” The last time I can remember something like this happening was with Hannibal years ago, it’s so rare with queer pairings.

I know everyone was excited about the kiss and it is refreshing to see queer people actually get to kiss, it’s still not something that happens all the time, but that’s not what made them canonically queer to me. If they remained completely asexual and never kissed or showed interest in kissing one another I’d feel the same. While I always felt they were queer what sealed it for me were 3 things:

1. Nina and Maggie, a romantic pairing that parallel our angel and demon break down to Crowley how she and Aziraphale are partners (and it’s clear they don’t mean business partners, does Crowley look like he runs a bookshop?) but they never say what they’re really thinking. They go on to state how that’s all they needed, the obvious implication here being that Nina and Maggie shared their romantic feelings with one another and that Crowley and Aziraphale need to do the same. Upon hearing this Crowley takes that as a sign to confess his feelings.

2. Gabriel and Beelzebub, another pairing that parallels Crowley and Aziraphale who are also clearly in love with one another is something Crowley references while he is confessing his feelings. “If those two lovestruck idiots can go off together, so can we. Because I love you.”

3. Crowley and Aziraphale express plainly to each other that they need the other. Crowley says to Aziraphale he wants to stop pretending they aren’t a team, a group, a them.

Aziraphale says verbatim “We can be together.” and “I need you.” He doesn’t say “We can work together” or “I need you to help me” or some other cop out that a lot of other shows or movies might come up with to continue to bait their fans, while having plausible deniability.

They love each other and it’s not platonic.

To me, the kiss serves as a way to seal the deal for people who only understand queer love when it’s punching them in the face. That’s not to say queer people can’t like the kiss, it’s one of my favorite scenes in the show simply because of how heartbreaking it is, but they were a couple to me long before that. And to add onto that by making every other important pairing in the show queer as well? Nina and Maggie being happy sapphics who don’t die at the end. They’re not together, but the implication is that one day they will be. Two non-binary beings—Gabriel and Beelzebub—falling in love and choosing to be with one another forever. The angels and demons are all genderless and no one misgenders them and no one gives a FUCK.

That means so much to me and I genuinely cannot express how thankful I am that this show and this season were made. The only thing I can say is thank you for standing for something, because not everyone does.

[deconstructthesoup]

Thinking about how if Jenny did come to London with the others, and if Monty does manage to turn back into a human and ends up joining the agency... there's seven members of the agency. Which means that there's one that matches up with each member of the Endless.

Edwin---well, that one's obvious, isn't it? He's come face to face with Despair, walked in her domain, stared her in the eyes as she quietly declared that they were friends now. He is, at his core, deeply and profoundly sad, and there's no denying that. Until Edwin allows himself to be happy, Despair will always have her hooks in his heart, and even when he's free of them, she will always linger in the faintest parts of his ghostly aura, will always be there whenever he travels through a mirror.

Charles... oh, Charles. We all know which of the Endless he would be the most affected by, don't we? He claims that he can't say he's in love with Edwin back, but the minute those words left his mouth, Desire was up there in their domain, cackling at how fucking idiotic this boy is. If we get a season 2, we will absolutely see them taunting Charles, purring into his ear that they know how much he's been ignoring his own desires and wouldn't it be nice to just acknowledge it, darling? Edwin was able to tell you, why can't you just say it back?

Crystal already feels as if she's losing her mind half the time, and doubly so now that she's fully warring with two very separate sides of herself. Would it really be a stretch for her to try to help a lonely-looking girl with wild red hair one night, only to touch her and immediately get pulled into a world that is a riot of color and confusion and things that don't and shouldn't exist? Delirium would probably be kind to her---her default state tends to be kind, even if not everyone sees it that way---but I doubt Crystal would have a good time there, even as Delirium compliments her on her name and proudly proclaims that she's a shiny rock and a pretty building and a football team and a flying machine all in one.

Niko's lost somewhere right now, and we all know she has a long journey home. I don't think it would be unlikely for her journey to eventually lead her to a palace with a roof made of stars, or a library full of every book that has ever been written---and every book that never has. And Dream might see this girl who doesn't belong in his world, but who can't take his sister's hand, and show her the way back to her friends. After all, she's lost so much and is still full of so much hope, and how could Dream not admire someone like that?

Monty... well, he spends all his time looking up at the stars, and not just because they sparkle and shine and all of his crow instincts say that they're treasures meant to be plucked from the sky. He wants to know the future, his future, to find out whether or not he can be something other than just a witch's pet. And maybe, some of his wanderings will one day lead him into a labyrinth, and he'll come out the other side in the garden of Destiny. Will Destiny let Monty read from his book? Probably not, but I think being there might be comfort enough.

There's a slim chance of Jenny ever meeting Destruction, but they are more similar than you may think. Jenny, like him, is a prodigal who left her post, whose life always seems to fall apart, who struggles with a whirlwind of emotions that she can barely comprehend. And while he's off in a secluded land, finding new ways to channel creation rather than the purpose he was made for, she's rebuilding her life, as crazy as it may be.

And, well... we all know who the Night Nurse works for.

[to-thelakes]

sleepy

pairing; matt murdock x fem!reader

summary; re-adjusting to anti-depressants was never an easy task but you have your vigilante boyfriend to help.

warnings; fluff, just pure fluff, reader is on anti-depressants and very very sleepy, also a cheese lover

notes; this one-shot is definitely at least a few months old, i think i wrote it when i originally switched my dosage so it's a little chaotic. i feel like there's a lack of fics talking or discussing antidepressants so i like filling in the gap to comfort anyone who was suffering the sleepiness and shitty feelings like i was those first few months. also this is my first matty one-shot i'm releasing so please enjoy <3

masterlist

You were so tired. The first two weeks of antidepressants, you were told, would be the worst but it hadn’t prepared you for just how exhausted you felt. You had spent most of the first three days, curled up in bed and sleeping the day away. By the fourth day, your snack supplies had already begun to dwindle which is the opposite of what you needed right now.

And by the fifth day, you had to venture out to the store. And that had killed you off. You had gotten back, grabbed a bag of chips and curled up on the couch. Within a few hours you were asleep and you stayed like that for another four hours. The TV had suddenly seemed to get astronomically loud and it woke you from your slumber.

So, with a little huff, you rolled off the couch and began to make something proper to eat for dinner. But you felt exhausted. It clung to your mind, hovering over you as you tried to make cheesy pasta. Everything felt impossible and slow and it was frustrating but it was made better when you heard the familiar tap-tap-tap on the fire escape window. 

A grin spread across your face as you left your pasta to heat up the cheese, pulling the window open as Matt Murdock climbed through. He was still in his Daredevil costume and you thought he looked rather silly but he already knew that’s what you thought of his costume. He liked hearing you tease him.

But rather than saying anything, you just wrapped your arms around his torso and hugged him. Your eyes fell closed as you snuggled into him making him chuckle softly.

“It’s nice to see you too, darling,” He greeted softly. All you had the energy to do was hum in vague acknowledgement. His arms wrapped around your shoulders for a moment before he softly reminded you about the food on the stove. So, you reluctantly pulled back and went over to the pan. You split the pasta into two bowls and turned around just as Matt pulled his helmet off. He placed it down on the counter before cautiously walking over to you.

“I’m sleepy,” You mumbled softly as you passed him the bowl. He took a hold of it, searching for the fork before he began to eat it. You had added a little bit of seasoning, salt, pepper, garlic powder in hopes of giving it a little more flavour. But you knew within the first bite and from the look on Matt’s face that you had gone overboard with the garlic. A huff escaped your lips and you placed the bowl on the side, “I’m going back to bed,” You declared, giving up for the day. Matt chuckled, listening to your footsteps as you walked across the apartment to your bed.

The air moved around you as you face-planted and he couldn’t help another chuckle as he turned around. His gaze landed somewhere near you but you weren’t even paying attention. Sleep was desperate to crawl up your spine and take you in but Matt was here now and you wanted to see him for a bit.

He managed to place the bowl on your side before he navigated his way carefully through your apartment. He could smell a bowl of hummus on the floor somewhere, you had a habit of leaving random crockery on the floor so he was being careful before he reached your bed. He crawled onto it before he sat cross-legged across from you.

“How long have you slept today?” He asked curiously. You mumbled in vague response but he didn’t catch a single word of it. He reached out towards you and gently pushed your head back so that you would tilt your head to the side, “What was that?” He had a teasing lilt to his tone and it made you want to smack him.

“A while but I’m sleepy,” You muttered. Matt knew that you were on new medication. You had tried to hide it from him a few days ago but he could smell your body going haywire. It was the same with everyone he had known who switched medication. Body’s went haywire while they adjusted before eventually settling back into routine.

That’s all this was but he still found your sleepy-grumpiness adorable. Matt held his hand out towards you and you reluctantly dragged yourself so you could curl into his lap. His fingers began to run through your hair but the strands were getting caught on his gloves. You let out disgruntled noises before he decided to take his gloves off. Then his fingertips began to massage your scalp and you hummed happily.

“You feeling better?” He asked. You ‘mhm’d in response and he could tell that you were going to fall asleep in his lap, “I need to change, darling. Need you to get out of my lap.” There was an amused lilt to his voice and another disgruntled noise fell from your lips. You moved out of his lap before dropping onto the top of the bed. Matt always found your mood while sleepy to be not all that dissimilar to a cat. You hated being disturbed when you were curled up and comfortable and when you were, you gave the offender the evils.

You assumed Matt didn’t know that you did that but he could sense it. He had always been able to feel your gaze boring into him.

“In the usual place?” He asked. You let out another hum of agreement before you burrito’d in your covers, snuggling your face into the pillow. He changed silently, listening to your heartbeat and breathing to see if you had fallen asleep. But it seemed you weren’t falling into it quite yet. Once he had changed, he walked over to the bed and lay on top of the mattress.

And that was when you unburritoed yourself and crawled on top of Matt. You practically curled up on his chest, burritoing both of you with the covers as you snuggle into his neck. Matt’s arms wrapped around your back.

“Much better,” You mumbled under your breath. He chuckled softly at your words and you let your eyes close. Your breathe evened out relatively quickly, “Much better.” You snuggled up to him, peppering kisses across his neck before you nuzzled there. Matt grinned and pressed a kiss against your hairline.

“Glad I could be of service,” He teased. You grumbled against his chest but he merely continued to grin, kissing your hairline again before he let his eyes fall closed.