#beth steel

[patgavin]

Former Bethlehem Steel site

Steelstacks, Bethlehem, Pennsylvania

[dailydccomics]

Black History Month variant covers by Ryan Benjamin

[hippydippydruid]

Hey yeah this is my silly little dnd podcast we’ve got some goofy little characters you know mostly just jokes in a nice story told throughout the season. Oh what that’s? Yeah that’s Beth May. Yeah no you’re about to have your heart ripped out of your chest and violently stomped on as she delivers the most heartbreaking character background and performance you have ever heard. Yeah no and you’re gonna enjoy it.

[secondstar-acorn]

you’re telling me tucker gets upset when trudy drinks coffee late in the day because it’ll keep her up and she needs to “recharge”?????? SHE’S A FUCKING ROBOT

[michelleelizabethtanner]

Martha and Snoop and IRL Beth and Rio

[pinkithai]

beth’s episode 3 radfact being that trudy was charged with battery is so good cause like yeah! she sure is! every night!

[forensicated]

Information about The Bill for use in fan fictions or anything similar. (aka: how I found out there's a character limit on Tumblr) This will be edited, please feel free to comment anything you want adding or editing.

Part 2

Nicknames for the police/officers:

The Old Bill, Bizzies (busybodies or 'too busy to help'), Feds, Bluebottles, Coppers, Bobbies, Rozzers, Peelers, The Filth, The Fuzz, Dibble (Officer Dibble from Top Cat), Pigs, Plod, Plonk (Person Of Limited Or No Knowledge), The Thin Blue Line, Bacon ("Can you smell bacon?") "The Babylon" (Jamican slang), Boys In Blue, Hawaii 5-O, Woody/Woodentops, The Scum, PoPo, The Law, Gammon.

In the earlier series, CID would refer to Uniform as Woodentops and Woodentops would refer to CID as Superstars.

Community Support Officers: CHIMPS (Completely Hopeless In Most Policing Situations), Hobby Bobby, Plastic Policeman,

Police Lingo, acronyms and abbreviations

ABE: Achieving Best Evidence - recording a victim of serious sexual assault on video for their first statement so it can be played in court to show how they were/the state they were in and try and limit the victim having to be there in person/cross examined etc.

ABH: Actual Bodily Harm

AMIP: Area Major Incident Pool (now Specialist Crime And Operations)

ANPR: Automatic Numberplate Recognition

AP: Agrieved Person - Victim

ARV: Armed Response Vehicle

ASBO: Antisocial Behaviour Order.

ASNT: Area Searched No Trace.

ASP: Baton

Big Red Key: The enforcer

BIU: Borough Intelligence Unit - this is where they could check facial recognition, check through CCTV and use the computers to check for suspects and find out peoples backgrounds.

BLO: Borough Liaison Officer

Blues and twos: Lights/Sirens on police cars

CAD: Computer Aided Dispatch

CIB: Complaints Investigation Bureau, later DPS (Directorate Of Professional Standards)

CID: Criminal Investigation Department

CIM: Critical Incident Manager - Inspector usually who oversees all the big jobs and makes decisions to keep things rolling smoothly rather than lots of chiefs making conflicting decisions.

Civvies (normal civilian clothes - ie a PC changing for an obbo)

CO19 (Used to be SO19 - armed officers. Smithy and Max used to be CO19 officers.) Apparently now MO19!

Code 11: Off Duty

CPS: Crown Prosecution Service

CPT: Child Protection Team

Crimint: Criminal Intelligence

CRIS: Crime Report Information System

CS Spray: Sprayed at criminal resisting arrest. Temporarily makes them unable to see properly and irritates their respiratory system. to enable them to be arrested. Sometimes now called PAVA spray.

CSE: Crime Scene Examiner (was SOCO- Scenes Of Crime Officer)

CSU: Community Support/Safety Unit Now joined with DVU and called SODAIT - Sexual Offences And Domestic Abuse Investigation Team

CLO: Community Liaison Officer

D&D: Drunk And Disorderly.

DVU: Domestic Violence unit. See CSU.

ETA: Expected Time Of Arrival "ETA, 5 minutes."

FATAC: Fatal Accident

Fence: Someone who buys and sells stolen goods

FED REP: Federation Representatives. Officers trained to support officers who are accused of crimes or otherwise want to take the service/bosses on.

FIU: Financial Investigation Unit

FLO: Family Liaison Officer (supports the family members/person who is going through a horrendous time. IE: Jim when Eva's daughter when missing and Smithy to Leanne Samuels when her daughter Carly was murdered)

FME: Force/Forensic Medical Examiner (Police doctor who reviews and treats criminals (and occasionally injured staff) who have gotten hurt, have complex medical issues or who need medication)

FPN: Fixed Penalty Notice - an on the spot fine.

GBH: Grievous Bodily Harm

Grass: informing on someone who has done a crime. Handling: someone who has accepted/bought stolen items either knowingly or unknowingly dependant on circumstances.

IBO: Used in later years instead of the CAD room, the Integrated Borough Operations handled non emergency telephone calls, CCTV viewing, contacting officers and similar. The CAD room was not needed as emergency calls were answered at Scotland Yard or Hendon and then sent to the relevant IBO Operator for the borough (which would be at Bow Central Communications Command) who would then send it to Sun Hill's IBO so all information can be relayed to the officers attending. Much like CAD, the IBO has a Sgt and PC's who would monitor the CCTV and IBO computers and assign officers to calls.

IC1-6 This is how the officers described skintones when searching for suspects/victims/witnesses.IC1 is White skinned european. IC2 is Dark Skinned European. IC3 is Afro Caribbean appearance, IC4 is Asian appearance (Indian Pakistani or Bangladeshi), IC5 is Chinese or Japanese appearance and IC6 is Arabian/Egyptian appearance.

Index: Vehicle registration - spelt out phonetically

India 99: Police helicopter.

IRB: Incident Report Book (Notebook) apparently now it's a force/work phone!

IRV: Incident Response Vehicle

LIO: Local Intelligence Officer

LEO: Local Enforcement Officer

LOS: Lost or Stolen

Misper: Missing Person

MIT: Major Incident Team (Used to be Murder Investigation Team)

MP: Met Police Information Room (Scotland Yard)

NCPA: No Cause For Police Action

NCS: National Crime Squad

NFA: No Further Action

NOIP: Notice Of Intended Prosecution. You're not arrested but the police are coming to take you to court soon.

Nonce: Sexual Offender - most used for Paedophiles.

OBBO: Observation - Keeping watch on suspects

OP: Observation Point

PACE: Police And Criminal Evidence Act - The police are bound to act by all rules, objectives and codes of conduct of this act of parliament in every part of their work.

PANDA: Normal police car that's not used for pursuing other cars. That's generally left to the Area Car or an IRV.

Pimp - someone who takes money from a woman on the sex trade. Also known as living off immoral earnings.

PIT: Precision Immobilisation Technique Manoeuvre (usually they try using a stinger to burst the tiers of a car thats speeding away from the police but it's not always possible. Where the road is wide enough and no one will become endangered by it,advanced drivers who are TPAC trained can do a manoeuvre to the car they're chasing and put it into spin to stop it. It CANNOT be done to busses/trucks/motorcycles etc and it's advised to not do it to a car you fear may be carrying armed occupants but to be honest it's not a massively used thing in the UK.)

PNC: Police National Computer = Real time checks on criminal records, outstanding warrants, missing and wanted people, registration checks etc.

PolAc: Police Accident (Ie car crash or hitting a pedestrian etc when it's a police officer involved)

PR: Officers police radio.

Refs: Refreshments/break time

Ringer - A vehicle that has been made up of parts of other cars or identity changed. Sometimes called a Cut n Shut.

RJ: Restorative Justice - a criminal doing something instead of being cautioned/imprisoned - like painting over their graffiti with a new coat of paint.

RTA/C: Road Traffic Accident/Collision

Rule 43 (Now 45): Vulnerable Prisoners in a prison. Smithy endured bullying to avoid being put in this as it means segregation and would bring him more attention and also a lot of isolation. This is for prisoners who are sex offenders, mentally ill, have a target on their back for grassing or being a convicted police/prison officer etc.

RUI: Released Under Investigation - bailed but the case is still being investigated and can be rearrested at any moment. The police hate this but the government have got touchy over bailing people.

Section 59 - Anti Social Behaviour Vehicle Seizure - you've kept driving like a prat so they're taking your car.

Section 165 - Seizing a car for no insurance. Most likely to be crushed.

Shout: A call out/incident communicated over the radio.

Sierra Oscar: Sun Hill Station Call Sign

Snout: Registered informant who gets paid for giving info. NNo sometimes CHIS - Covert Human Intelligence Source or Informant.

SO10: Now Covert Operations - Undercover Policing - can be long term and go really deep undercover. Stevie used to be in this dept. Now includes Counter Terrorism.

SOCA: Serious And Organised Crime Agency

SOPO: Sex Offenders Prevention Order (useless essentially!)

SOR - Sex Offenders Register

Stretch: Prison sentence.

TIU: Telecoms Investigation/Intelligence Unit

TOA: Time Of Arrival "Show me TOA 13.23"

Tom: Prostitute

TPAC Tactical Pursuit And Containment - trained officers who bring vehicles to a stop - like boxing cars in etc.

Trojan Unit: Armed Police

TSG: Territorial Support Group

TWOC: Taking a car without owners consent

VIN: Vehicle Identification Number

VRN: Vehicle Registration Number

Phonetic Alphabet Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, Delta, Echo, Foxtrot, Golf, Hotel, India, Juliet, Kilo, Lima, Mike, November, Oscar, Papa, Quebeck, Romeo, Sierra, Tango, Uniform, Victor, Whiskey, Xray, Yankee, Zulu.

Areas Of Sun Hill/Canley Wharfs/Docks Jubilee Wharf, India Wharf, Limeharbour Dock, Sussex Wharf, Limeharbour Dock, Sussex Wharf, Old Jubilee Dock & Boatyard, Masters Wharf, Dockland Pier, Skippers Wharf

Council Estates Aldbourne, Bronte, Abelarde, Antrim Green, Canley, Farley, Parkmead, Jasmine Allen, Coal Lane, Cockcroft, Whitegate, Hardie, Larkmead, Tankeray, Copthorne, Netherlake,

[The earlier series had Riverdale Estate and one of the blocks was called Elizabeth Garret Anderson]

Other Stations Barton Street (Sierra Bravo) , Spicer Street, Putney Green, Stafford Row (Sierra Charlie), Tottenham (Echo Oscar) Diplomatic Protection (Delta Papa)

[Tower Wharf mentioned in series 2]

Industrial Estates

Cheetham Road Industrial Estate

Streets Trafford Way, Loftus Road, Leermont Road, Gatley Street, Purchase Road (Red light district), Brands Square, Jamaica Lane, Larkway Street, Godwick Street, Sun Hill Road, Shadwell Street, Harlow Street, Dunsford Street, Brown Square, Victoria Road, Dorral Road, Alforn Street, Mallan Street, Ashon Street, Brim Road, Rudcus Street, Cheetam Road, Cheetham Side, Jessop Street, Halpern Street, Tallow Street, Hoxton Road, Backhouse Street/Lane, Mournemouth Street/Avenue, Rudkin Road, Bagford Street, Brunell Avenue, Askill Road, Limefield Walk, Railton Street, Canley High Street, Ida Lane, Tubbs Lane, Claydon Street, Woodley Heath Road, Ballina Road, Starkwater Road, Calico Street, Tedder Street, Greenroad Way, Greaton Road, Mooreland Road, Ibbot Street, Rudleigh Road, Westway, Abbey Road, Broom Lane, Foundry Way, Humber Street, Muston Street, Valance Street

Prisons Longmarsh

Hospitals St Hughs

Schools

Cheetam Primary/Junior School, Shad Thames Infants School, Elcott Primary,

Canley Comprehensive, Harvey Wallace Comp, Deansgate Comprehensive, Cheetam Bank,

Pubs

Canley Arms, Askill Arms, Rose And Crown, The Green Archer, The Bears Head, The Elcott Arms, The Seven Bells, The White Swan, The Scales, The Grape And Bottle, The Dog And Gun, The Pikes Head, The Thames Tavern, The Pikes Head, The Tully Arms, The Boat Inn, The Tug, The Emma Hamilton, The Cock And Crown, The Sultan. Lord Banbury

Misc

North Canley Sports Center, Canley Fields, City Farm, St Ann's Church, Cheetham Community Support Center,

Earlier series

Miskin Manor High School (mentioned series 5)

Bob Cryer's youngest son attends Medway Comprehensive.

St Clements is a hospital mentioned in series 5.

FME is first called 'FME' in Bad Company (series 5) before then it is divisional surgeon.

[murdersexgrl]

The type o Facebook groups are a gold mine for content

[succulent-pott]

I don't think you should be defending fictional abusers even if you do find them funny or pretty! Pretty people can be evil and horrible too! Also, just cause someone's 'ugly' doesn't mean they're evil????

[jolieeason]

October 2024 Wrap-Up

Here is what I read, posted, won, received, and bought in October. Let me know if you have read any of these books and what you thought of them. Books I Read: Books from indie authors/publishers: Books I bought: If the Duke Dares by Darcy Burke Vacancy by Linda Kage Playing High by Beth Pellino-Dudzic Tentacles and Teeth by Ariele Sieling The Moving House by Duncan Ralston The Magpie…

[spilladabalia]

A Certain Ratio - All Comes Down to This

[kiwriteswords]

I really loved your affectionate reader story. I love the idea of Aaron asking reader for affection. Could you write a story of him asking her for comfort?

Let me hand you my love [Aaron Hotchner x Affectionate!Fem!Reader]

Masterlist || Ao3||Word Count: 4k|| AN: Loved writing this one! I did not continue the other story, so this could be read as a stand alone!

Tags/Warnings: no use of y/n, canon-typical themes, touch-starved Aaron Hotchner, non-bau!reader, affectionate reader, mentions of Hotch's abusive father, Jack is mentioned, Haley is mentioned, Beth is mentioned, 5+1 trope, physical touch love language

Summary:  Aaron Hotchner is beginning to see why your love language is physical touch. 5 times Aaron Hotchner asks you for affection, and the one time you ask him.

I.

Aaron Hotchner had always prided himself on his composure. He was a man of steel—unyielding in the face of danger, stoic even when chaos reigned around him. But lately, he’d begun to realize there was something soothing about letting his guard down, something he'd been missing out on for far too long. Physical touch, a simple concept yet so integral, had slowly woven its way into his life, thanks to you.

You, a journalist with a keen sense of the world and a heart full of warmth, had unknowingly begun to chip away at his fortress of solitude. Physical affection was your language, a means to express what words sometimes could not. Whether it was a gentle squeeze of his hand, a soft kiss goodbye in the morning, or the way your fingers would brush his when you passed him a cup of coffee, each touch reverberated through him like the soft hum of a melody long forgotten.

This evening was different; Hotch felt an unfamiliar, gnawing ache as he drove home after a particularly grueling case. The images from the day were harsher than usual, the weight of each decision heavier. As he turned the key in his apartment door, the silence of the room felt suffocating rather than peaceful. He needed something he’d never consciously admitted he needed before—comfort.

You were there, sitting on the sofa, papers sprawled around you as you scribbled notes for your latest article. The lamp cast a soft glow around you, creating an aura that seemed both inviting and serene. Hearing the door, you looked up, your expression shifting from concentration to concern in a heartbeat.

“Hey,” you greeted, your voice a soothing balm. “Rough day?”

Hotch only nodded, locking the door behind him before joining you on the sofa. The space between you was minimal, but to him, it felt like miles. He watched as you set your pen down, turning your full attention to him, your eyes filled with unspoken questions.

There was a palpable hesitation in the air. Hotch had never been one to reach out first, to seek solace or admit a need for anything beyond the basics. But as he sat there, the remnants of the day’s burdens clinging to him, he realized how much he yearned for that simple, healing connection. The warmth of your hand, the comfort of your presence—it was a silent call to which his heart responded before his mind could.

“You know,” Hotch began, his voice rough around the edges, “I think I’m starting to understand why you...” He paused, searching for the right words, “why you value touch so much.”

You shifted closer, reducing the cold space between you. “It’s healing,” you said softly, reaching out to place a hand on his knee. “Sometimes, words aren’t enough.”

Hotch let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. He looked down at your hand, a lifeline thrown in the still waters of his turmoil. “Could you—” His voice faltered, unaccustomed as he was to asking for more. “Would you just hold me for a bit?”

The corners of your lips turned up in a gentle smile, eyes sparkling with warmth and understanding. Without a word, you shifted, opening your arms to him. Hotch moved closer, allowing himself to be pulled into an embrace. He rested his head against your shoulder, feeling the tension begin to seep out of his muscles as your hands gently rubbed his back.

In the quiet of the room, with the hum of the city life buzzing faintly beyond the walls, Aaron Hotchner, the steadfast leader of the BAU, realized how profound the gesture was. Here in your arms, he wasn’t just the unit chief or a federal agent; he was just Aaron, a man learning the language of love through the touch of someone who spoke it fluently. And as he relaxed into the embrace, allowing the comfort to wash over him, he understood that it was okay to ask for this—to need this.

The simplicity of the moment, the profound impact of your touch, reshaped the contours of his world, teaching him that even the strongest of us need a haven, a safe place to rest. And perhaps, for Aaron Hotchner, that place had been here all along, in the arms of the person who had taught him the true strength found in vulnerability.

II.

It had been weeks since Aaron Hotchner first admitted the comfort he found in your touch. Each day, the memory of that evening lingered in his mind like a soft echo, a reminder of the unfamiliar territory he had begun to explore. He knew he needed to cross it again; the day’s events had been a brutal reminder of his job's relentless demands. Yet, as he stood outside the door to your apartment, his hand paused in mid-air, a familiar sense of reticence taking hold.

Hotch had never been one to rely on others for emotional support—not with Haley, and certainly not with Beth. With Haley, their closeness had been a given, an expectation filled more out of duty than desire. With Beth, it was casual, simple, lacking the deep intertwining of lives that true intimacy brought. But with you, it was different. Every moment shared, every touch, felt like a deliberate step into a world where vulnerability was not a weakness but a shared strength.

As he finally turned the key and stepped inside, the warm glow of the living room offered a stark contrast to the darkness of his thoughts. You were curled up on the couch, a book in hand, the very picture of relaxation. But your eyes lifted the moment you sensed his presence, shifting with an intuitive spark from contentment to concern.

“Hey,” you said, your voice pulling him further into the safety of the room. “Everything okay?”

Hotch hesitated, his feet rooted just beyond the threshold as he met your gaze. “Can we talk?”

The simplicity of the question masked the turmoil beneath. You set your book aside, patting the couch next to you. As he sat, the familiar, comfortable distance between you now felt like a chasm. He needed to bridge it, yet the words—and the admission they required—weighed heavily on him.

“I’m not very good at this,” Hotch started, his voice a mix of resolve and reluctance. He paused, his hands clasped tightly in his lap. “Asking for... support. For something as simple as a hug. It’s not how I was... how I’ve been.”

You listened, your body turned towards him, your eyes soft and encouraging. The room was filled with the soft ticking of the clock, marking the seconds as he gathered his thoughts.

“I’ve always thought I needed to handle things on my own,” he continued, his gaze drifting to the window, to the world outside that demanded so much of him. “With Haley, with Beth... it was different. I never felt I could ask for that…I never felt like I needed that with them. It was always about fulfilling expectations, about maintaining a facade.”

Turning back to look at you, he saw the understanding in your eyes, and it gave him the courage to continue. “But with you, I feel...” Hotch struggled for the right words, “I feel that it’s okay to ask. To need.”

The admission hung in the air between you, a confession of his evolving heart.

“You can always ask me, Aaron,” you said gently, reaching out to take his hand. “I want to be here for you, in whatever way you need.”

Feeling the warmth of your hand in his, Hotch felt the last barriers within him begin to crumble. “Would you just...be here?” he asked, the words less difficult this time, more a relief than a burden.

Without a word, you opened your arms, and he moved closer, letting his head rest against your shoulder. As your arms wrapped around him, a sense of peace settled over him. Here, in the quiet of your embrace, the world's demands faded into the background. It was just him, just Aaron, learning to be human, learning to accept the touch, the love, that he had never known he needed so desperately.

As you both sat there, the struggles of the day slowly dissipating into the warmth between you, Hotch realized this was not just about seeking comfort. It was about building a new normal, one where he could be strong not just for others, but for himself, by acknowledging the simple human need to be held, to be loved.

III. 

The weight of his past was something Aaron Hotchner carried with him like a silent shadow, shaping the man he became—a man of law, of order, a protector. Growing up with a father whose temper was as swift as it was brutal had taught him early on that vulnerability was a liability, and that physical touch, rather than a comfort, could be a precursor to pain. It was a lesson ingrained so deeply that even now, as he walked alongside you after a long day, he found himself grappling with an old, familiar sense of shame.

He watched you laugh at something light and trivial, the sound as free and open as the park around you. Your hand brushed against his occasionally, a simple touch, yet each contact sparked a silent battle within him. He needed more than those fleeting connections; he needed the grounding, comforting weight of your touch to anchor him away from the tumultuous sea of his memories. But asking for it, needing it, felt like a betrayal of the stoic image he had cultivated for so long.

"You're quiet today," you observed, slowing your pace to match his troubled stride. "What's on your mind?"

Hotch hesitated, his instinct to retreat warring with the growing trust he placed in you. He took a deep breath, the cool air of the early evening filling his lungs, as he prepared to voice the thoughts that rarely saw the light of day.

"It's... difficult for me," he started, his voice rough with unspoken emotions. "Growing up, I never saw... My father, he wasn’t a man who showed affection. He believed men needed to be strong, unyielding. And I learned to see touch as something to be wary of, not something to seek comfort in."

You stopped walking, turning to face him fully. The empathy in your eyes was palpable, a silent encouragement for him to continue.

"And I find myself struggling with that legacy. Feeling as if needing touch, needing your comfort, is a form of weakness. Sometimes, it feels like... like I’m failing some archaic test of manhood just by admitting I need that connection," he admitted the words tasting foreign on his tongue. He thought briefly to Jack--would he ever want Jack to feel this shame for needing affection?

You reached out slowly, deliberately, taking his hand in yours, your grip firm and reassuring. "Aaron, it's okay to need touch, to seek out comfort. It doesn’t make you less of anything. It makes you human," you said gently. "I need it too. I need your touch just as much as you might need mine. It’s okay for us to find safety in each other."

Hotch looked down at your interlocked fingers, the simple act of holding hands suddenly imbued with deeper meaning. He felt the tension begin to ebb, the shame receding under the warmth of your acceptance.

"Could we... Could you just hold my hand? Like this, for a while?" he asked, his voice more steady than he felt. It was a small request, yet it felt monumental.

"Of course," you smiled, squeezing his hand lightly. And so you both resumed walking, hands clasped tightly, a silent pact between you. With each step, Hotch felt a little more of the barriers within him dissolve, his past receding into the background.

This touch, so different from the crushing grips of his father, was healing. It was a reminder that he had the power to redefine what strength meant to him. Strength wasn’t just enduring in solitude; it was also in reaching out, in admitting need, in allowing himself to trust in the safety you offered.

As the park's paths wound before them, lined with the soft glow of streetlamps, Aaron Hotchner walked with a lighter heart, knowing that with each step, he was moving not just away from his past, but towards a future where he could be whole, where he could embrace vulnerability as courageously as he faced down any other challenge. And all it took was the simple, healing touch of holding hands.

IV. 

The clock on the hotel room wall ticked past midnight, its sound unnervingly loud in the otherwise silent room. Aaron Hotchner sat on the edge of the bed, his phone in his hand, the weight of the unresolved case pressing down on him like a physical burden. The room felt cold, impersonal, a stark contrast to the warmth and comfort of home—of you. With each passing hour, the sense of losing control, of failing to bring the case to a close, gnawed at him, amplifying his isolation.

He stared at the phone, debating. Calling you felt like an admission of his own helplessness, a crack in his armor he was seldom comfortable revealing. But tonight, the distance felt more than geographical; it was an emotional chasm he was desperate to bridge.

Finally, with a resigned sigh, he dialed your number, listening to the ring that seemed to echo around the sparse room. When your voice finally came through, it was like a lifeline thrown across the miles.

"Hey, Aaron," you greeted, your voice sleepy yet filled with warmth. "Is everything alright?"

Hotch hesitated, the familiar reluctance to expose his vulnerabilities warring with his need to hear your reassuring words. "I’m not sure," he admitted, his voice low. "It’s been a tough day. We’re... we’re not making the progress I hoped for, and it feels like we’re running out of time."

He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing, "I just... I wish you were here. I could really use the comfort of just lying beside you right now."

There was a soft sigh on the other end of the line, not of frustration, but of shared sorrow. "I wish I could be there too," you said softly. "To just lie there with you, to make it feel a little less heavy."

Hotch closed his eyes, allowing himself to imagine that simple scene: the two of you together, the weight of the day's failures temporarily lifted. "It’s strange," he continued, his voice a mix of wonder and resignation. "I used to think I had to face everything alone. But now, it’s moments like this, just imagining being with you, that seem to help the most."

"And that’s okay, Aaron," you reassured him. "It’s okay to need someone, to miss this. I’m here, even if it’s just like this—over the phone. Tell me, what would we be doing if I were right here with you?"

Hotch let out a half-hearted chuckle, the scenario playing out vividly in his mind. "We’d be in bed; I’d be holding you close. Maybe we’d talk about anything but the case just to distract me. Or maybe we’d just lie in silence, just feeling you there would be enough."

"Then let's do that, just over the phone," you suggested gently. "Close your eyes, Aaron. I’m right there with you, okay? I’m holding your hand, lying right beside you. We don’t need to talk about anything else unless you want to."

Hotch did as you suggested, lying back against the pillows, phone pressed to his ear, eyes closed. He listened to your breathing, steady and calm, a stark contrast to the storm of emotions inside him. Gradually, his breathing slowed to match yours, the tension starting to ebb away.

"We’re going to figure this out," you whispered after a long silence, your voice firm yet tender. "You’re not alone in this, Aaron. Remember that."

"I know," Hotch replied, a sense of peace finally beginning to settle over him. "Thank you, for being here like this."

"Always, Aaron. Whenever you need me," you assured him, and though the miles remained between them, Aaron Hotchner felt a little less alone, bolstered by the simple, profound connection of your voice in the darkness, a reminder of the strength found not just in presence, but in the promise of unwavering support.

V.

The moment the breakthrough in the case was confirmed, a wave of relief washed over Aaron Hotchner. It wasn’t just any case; it was one that had stretched the resources and emotional resilience of his team to their limits. Now, standing in the quiet hum of the BAU offices, surrounded by the bustling energy of his colleagues celebrating their hard-won victory, only one thought dominated his mind: sharing this moment with you.

As he stepped away from the crowd, pulling out his phone, his heart raced with a blend of triumph and anticipation. He could already imagine how your face would light up, the way your eyes would sparkle with shared joy. Dialing your number, he found himself smiling, a rarity that felt both foreign and exhilarating.

The phone barely rang twice before you answered. "Hey, Aaron, what's up?" your voice came through, always a balm to his often stormy existence.

"We did it," Hotch burst out, unable to contain the enthusiasm in his voice. "We solved it, finally. And it’s... it’s a big relief."

"Really? That's amazing, Aaron!" you exclaimed, your excitement palpable even through the digital divide. "I wish I could see your smile right now."

Hotch laughed, a sound of pure joy. "I wish you could, too," he confessed. "And I... I really wish I could hug you right now. Celebrate this moment with you."

"Me too," you sighed. "I’d give anything to give you a big hug and a kiss. You deserve it after all the hard work and long hours."

The image of that—of returning home to you, of your arms open and welcoming—solidified his next decision. "Wait for me," Hotch said impulsively. "I’m coming home now. I can’t think of a better way to end this day than being with you."

"Really? You’re on your way?" your voice lifted in surprise and delight.

"Yes, I just... I need to be with you," Hotch admitted, feeling a warmth spread through him at the thought of seeing you soon.

"Drive safe, Aaron. I’ll be here, waiting," you promised, a smile in your voice.

The drive home felt different this time. Each mile closer to you, Hotch felt a growing sense of anticipation, a lightness he hadn’t experienced in years. When he finally pulled into the driveway, his pulse quickened. He barely took the time to lock the car before heading to your door.

The moment you opened it, the look on your face was everything he had imagined. Joy, love, pride—all reflected in your eyes. You didn’t speak; you simply stepped forward, wrapping your arms around him in a tight embrace that spoke volumes. Hotch returned the hug with equal fervor, burying his face in your hair, inhaling the comforting scent that was uniquely you.

After a long moment, you pulled back just enough to look at him, your hands framing his face. "Congratulations, Aaron," you whispered before pressing a soft, celebratory kiss to his lips.

The kiss, sweet and affirming, was a perfect punctuation to the day’s victory. "Thank you," Hotch murmured against your lips, his voice thick with emotion. "For everything."

As you both stepped back inside, hand in hand, Aaron Hotchner felt a profound gratitude not just for the case solved, but for the personal victories he was beginning to achieve. Tonight was not just a celebration of a job well done, but of new beginnings, of barriers broken, and of the indescribable comfort found in the arms of the one he loved.

+I

The room was cloaked in darkness, only the faint glow of the city lights filtering through the curtains provided any illumination. It was deep into the night when Aaron Hotchner was jolted awake, not by a sound but by a palpable shift in the atmosphere. Beside him, he could feel you stirring restlessly, your breaths quick and uneven.

Turning towards you, Hotch could just make out your silhouette in the dim light. Your movements were tense, a stark contrast to the usual peacefulness of your sleep. "Hey," he whispered softly, reaching out to gently touch your arm. "Are you okay?"

You turned to face him, and even in the weak light, Hotch could see the distress etched across your features. "I... I had a nightmare," you admitted, your voice shaky. "It was nothing, really, but it felt so real."

Hotch’s instincts as both a partner and a profiler kicked in. He knew the power nightmares held, the way they could claw their way into one's peace of mind. "You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to," he assured you, his tone soothing. "Just tell me what you need."

You moved closer to him, seeking his warmth. "Could you... just hold me? Maybe... just your touch, it helps," you requested, a hint of vulnerability in your voice that pulled at his heart.

Without hesitation, Hotch opened his arms, and you nestled against him, your head resting on his chest. His hand began to stroke your hair gently, the other arm wrapped securely around you, grounding you to the here and now. "I’ve got you," he murmured into the darkness.

The rhythm of his heartbeat under your ear and the steady, reassuring pressure of his hands brought a slow but sure calm. Hotch felt you relax incrementally, your breathing eventually deepening as the remnants of the dream faded under the safety of his touch.

He lay there, awake, holding you, feeling a profound sense of protectiveness and love. In his career, he had often been the one to offer a safe harbor to others in their moments of need. But with you, it was deeper, more personal. It was a shared journey of giving and receiving comfort, of building a sanctuary not just for you but for himself as well.

As the night slowly gave way to the early hints of dawn, Hotch felt you stir slightly in his arms. "Better?" he asked quietly, not wanting to disturb the peace that had settled over you.

"Yeah, much better," you replied, your voice still soft but steadier now. "Thank you, Aaron, for being here."

"Always," Hotch responded, a quiet conviction in his voice. He knew the challenges that lay ahead, in both his professional and personal life, but in this moment, he felt a clarity and a determination to face them all, as long as he had you by his side. With each other's support, there was nothing they couldn't face, no nightmare too daunting to overcome. And as the first light of morning crept through the window, it underscored a silent promise exchanged in the quiet comfort of their embrace—a promise of always, of home, of never having to face the dark alone.

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[the-gone-ton]

The old Bethlehem Steel home plant. Bethlehem Steel was the 2nd-largest steel maker in the US and largest ship builder at its peak. They made a fortune during WWII, as did their rival, Pittsburgh-based US Steel, and then they blew that fortune on executive pay (the Beth Steel CEO was at one point the highest-paid American corporate exec.) and building a new headquarters (Martin Tower, the tallest building in the Lehigh Valley).

But then they started to fall behind; Europe, which had been destroyed in the war, got to rebuild their industry with the newest methods and technologies. And then China came on the scene with cheaper steel. By the turn of the century, Bethlehem Steel was toast. Today, part of the plant is preserved. A casino is the new primary draw of the site. US Steel survived, though maybe not for long as Japanese Nippon Steel is trying to buy them out.

[annabelle--cane]

OKAY. the magnus fucking institute, manchester.

worm tracks all over the archives' floor?? hello??? this institute burnt down in '99 and archives verse jane prentiss attacked in 2016, but. that can't NOT be connected, right?

redcanary said there were no papers left, but sam and alice found some! completely rotten, but they are there. why are most of the papers gone but not all?

from her reaction to the institute being brought up in magp 02 and 05, it seems like alice didn't know about sam's history with the place before and he filled her in some time recently.

"I want to know what was happening, why they chose us… why they didn’t choose me. Maybe find the bit where everything started to go wrong." say more right now mr khalid. I saw your scores on that spreadsheet, I know you got the best grades in unethical child psych experiments. don't give up hope yet! I'm sure you still have plenty of time to become one with some kind of eldritch abomination!

beth eyre as [error]. okay, I know she was a voice in archives, but for the time being I am assuming this is not statement giver lucia wright from mag 130 with the steel chair. in the archives verse institute, the trapdoor in the archivist's office lead to the tunnels, but this institute isn't connected to old millbank prison. nevertheless, there was still a Person trapped under there. probably been there for the last 25 years. an old archivist, maybe? they're immortal, she could have just been chilling down there like the alexandrian archivist. but she also was deliberately locked in. she needed the key to get out. oops! we dug down too deep and released the Creature from below the earth!

[moonlight-joy]

Family Ties

Fandom: Yellowstone

Request: @little-pink-demon00 - A fic where Reader is Lee’s daughter but was adopted and raised by John and Evelyn (because Lee had her when he was young). And one day Jamie or Beth get pissed and spill the secret of who reader’s birth parents are. Angst happens, and ends with Kayce or John comforting reader.

Pairing: None

The Yellowstone Ranch kitchen still felt suffocating, the echo of Beth’s words ringing in the silence long after she stormed out. The weight of her revelation pressed down like a vice, your chest tightening with each passing second. John’s presence, usually so steady and commanding, felt different now. He looked tired, older somehow, as he sat across from you at the kitchen table.

The silence stretched on until you couldn’t bear it anymore. “Why?” The single word slipped from your lips, trembling and raw. “Why didn’t anyone tell me? Why let me live a lie?”

John leaned back in his chair, his broad shoulders sagging as he ran a hand through his graying hair. “Because we weren’t trying to hide the truth from you—we were trying to protect you from it.”

“Protect me from what?” Your voice rose, anger and confusion mixing with the ache in your chest. “From knowing where I came from? From knowing my father—Lee—didn’t want me?”

John’s jaw tightened, his eyes flashing with the kind of steel that only a man like him could muster. “Lee wanted you,” he said firmly. “Don’t you ever think otherwise. He loved you, but he was young—barely more than a boy himself. He was scared, and he didn’t know how to raise a child. So Evelyn and I stepped in.”

You blinked back tears, the weight of his words sinking in. “And my mother? What about her?”

John’s expression darkened. “She wasn’t ready either. She left Montana not long after you were born. Never looked back.”

The words stung, cutting deep even though you’d never known the woman. “So you just… decided to take me in? Pretend like I was yours?”

“We didn’t pretend,” John said, his voice softening. “You are mine. From the moment you came into this house, you were my daughter. I don’t give a damn what blood says. I raised you. I taught you how to ride, how to stand your ground, how to fight for what you believe in. You’re as much a Dutton as any of us.”

His words stirred something inside you—a flicker of the love and security you’d always felt in this family. But the confusion and hurt still loomed large, threatening to swallow you whole. “Does Kayce know?” you asked, your voice trembling. “Does everyone else know who I really am?”

John hesitated, and in that brief pause, you got your answer. “Beth and Jamie know,” he admitted. “Kayce doesn’t. And Lee—he wanted to tell you, but before he could…” His voice trailed off, the unspoken truth hanging heavy in the air.

Before Lee died.

Hours later, you found yourself sitting by the firepit outside, the vast Montana night stretching endlessly above you. The stars were so bright they almost didn’t seem real, but even their beauty couldn’t quiet the turmoil inside. The truth felt like a wound that wouldn’t stop bleeding, each new thought reopening it.

Footsteps crunched softly on the gravel behind you, and Kayce appeared, his silhouette illuminated by the flickering firelight. He carried two steaming mugs, offering one to you as he settled into the chair beside you.

“You look like you could use this,” he said, his voice low.

You took the mug gratefully, the warmth seeping into your hands. “Dad told you?” you asked, not looking at him.

“Yeah,” Kayce said simply. He leaned back in his chair, staring into the flames. “He told me everything.”

The silence between you was heavy but not uncomfortable. It felt like Kayce was giving you the space to speak first, to sort through your tangled thoughts. Finally, you broke the silence.

“It’s like everything I thought I knew about myself… isn’t real anymore,” you said, your voice shaking. “I thought I was John and Evelyn’s daughter. I thought I belonged.”

Kayce turned to you, his expression soft but resolute. “You do belong. Nothing’s changed that.”

“How can you say that?” you asked, your voice breaking. “I’m not even really a Dutton. I’m just some mistake Lee made when he was a teenager.”

“Don’t say that,” Kayce said sharply, his voice cutting through the quiet like a blade. “You’re not a mistake. You’re family. You’ve always been family. Blood doesn’t make a Dutton—it’s loyalty, and heart, and standing with the people you love no matter what. That’s who you are.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you quickly wiped them away, but Kayce wasn’t done.

“Do you know what Dad said when Tate was born?” he asked, his voice softening again. “He said being a father isn’t about who shares your blood. It’s about who shows up, who stays, who fights for you when it matters. And he’s shown up for you every day of your life. We all have.”

His words wrapped around the ache in your chest, soothing it like a balm. “I just… I don’t know how to feel,” you admitted. “I’m angry, and sad, and confused all at the same time.”

“That’s okay,” Kayce said. “You don’t have to figure it all out tonight. But don’t let what Beth said make you doubt who you are or where you stand. You’re one of us. Always have been, always will be.”

For a while, the two of you sat in silence, the crackle of the fire filling the space between you. Then Kayce spoke again, his voice quieter this time. “Lee would’ve been proud of you, you know.”

You turned to him, your heart tightening. “You think so?”

Kayce nodded. “I know so. He might’ve been young, but he loved you. And if he could see you now—the way you carry yourself, the way you fight for this ranch and this family—he’d be proud as hell.”

The tears you’d been holding back spilled over, but this time, you didn’t wipe them away. Kayce stayed beside you, his quiet presence steady and comforting. For the first time that day, the weight on your chest felt a little lighter.

Later, back in the house, John found you sitting at the kitchen table, the same spot where he’d told you the truth. He didn’t say anything at first, just sat down across from you and poured himself a glass of whiskey.

“I know today was hard,” he said finally, his voice low and steady. “But I want you to know something.”

You looked at him, waiting.

“You’re my daughter,” John said, his eyes locking onto yours with a fierce intensity. “I don’t care what Beth or anyone else says. I’ve loved you like my own since the day you were born, and nothing’s ever going to change that.”

The emotion in his voice broke something loose in you, and you leaned forward, resting your head in your hands as tears spilled freely. John reached across the table, his large, calloused hand covering yours.

“Family isn’t about blood,” he said softly. “It’s about showing up. And no matter what happens, I’ll always show up for you.”

In that moment, with John’s hand steady on yours and Kayce’s words still echoing in your mind, you realized that while the truth had shaken you, it hadn’t broken you. This was your family—messy, complicated, and flawed—but yours. And that would never change.

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[holdmytesseract]

moodboard by the wonderful @chennqingg <3

Bloodline

[EoH Universe]

Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader feat. Teddy Dixon

Summary: When Daryl loses his brother, you try to be his tower of strenght.

Warnings: angst? sadness, grief? fluff, dad!Daryl, major character death (mentioned), sad Daryl hours

The Prison Era!

Word Count: 2,2k

a/n: It's been a while since I lastly posted something for this AU, so... 🤗

EoH Masterlist °☆• Daryl Masterlist °☆• Masterlist

You were outside in the inner courtyard together with Teddy, Beth and little Judith. While Beth sat with the infant on her arm on one of the benches, Teddy practised to use the slingshot his father had crafted him. For now, he was shooting small rocks against an old, rusty steel sheet.

You sat beside Beth; enjoying the warmth of the sun, but also always keeping a watchful eye on your surroundings. Especially at these times it was important to stay attentive...

Watching your son with his red bandana and way too big clothes trying his best to hit the target was adorable. The way his small fingers worked to draw the slingshot; the way he moved; how concentrated he was. His tongue poked out between his lips as he aimed. You smiled. There was no doubt who his father was.

Of course you knew that training Teddy in using weapons was important. Even though he was only four years old. It could save his life after all.

"You saw that, momma?" Teddy called out to you; blue-greyish eyes shining and a big smile stretched on his face. You nodded; giving him an encouraging smile. "I did, yeah! You're doing amazing, baby! Keep on practising!" Teddy's smile widened, before he turned around to pick up the next small rock.

As Judith released a cute little coo, you turned to face Beth; noticing that that baby girl woke up again. "Ohh, look who's awake again," you giggled and cooed; gently stroking Judith's chubby cheek. "Hey, Jude. You awake, huh?" The sweet moment you shared with the newest member of your group got suddenly interrupted by the sound of a creaking door. You immediately looked up and saw Daryl exiting the corridor which led to the C-Block and strolling straight into your direction; crossbow slung over his shoulder. The look on his face told you that something was up. Most likely nothing good.

He stopped quite a few meters away from you - and out of his son's sight; biting his bottom lip and silently gesturing for you to come over.

You released a breath you didn't know you were holding.

Exchanging a short look with the young girl sitting beside you, you stood up and quickly made your way over to the archer.

"What's wrong, sweetie?" You immediately questioned your man; a concerned frown on your face while you crossed your arms over your chest. "I ain't s'pposed to tell ya, but... This Governor offered Rick a deal. If we are willin' to deliver Michonne, he'll leave us be." "What?" Your frown deepened. "And Rick truly believes that? He wants to take that shot?" Daryl swallowed; head lowered for a moment, before he lifted it again with a grunt. "Wanted to. Me, Rick 'n Merle, but Rick decided against it."

"Thank god. Honestly, Daryl, that wouldn't have been the right decision..." "I know," he huffed in agreement, but started to nibble on his bottom lip again mere seconds later. "Merle's gone 'lone. Captured her 'n left."

Your eyes widened at his words. "Merle did what?!" Your long-term boyfriend nodded. "Gonna go after him 'n try ta stop him. He's my brother. 'S on me." You blinked; needing to process his words. "You want to go after him? Alone?" He nodded and you started to shake your head vehemently. "No, Daryl. No. What if he's already brought her to the Governor? I-I don't want you to get caught in the crossfire!" The archer took a step closer to you; his calloused, yet gentle hands reaching for yours. "I ain't gettin' caught in the crossfire, sunshine. I promise." He gave your hands a firm, reassuring squeeze. "But I gotta do this. He's my brother..."

You took a deep breath, "I know, sweetie - and I absolutely understand that, but... Alone?" You gazed with worry swimming in your eyes into Daryl's; freeing a hand from your man's grasp and lifting it to let your palm rest on his chest. He nodded. "Yeah. Gotta do it alone. Rick can't track for shit 'n the rest ain't havin' a single clue - 'n am certainly not taking Hershel. He's been through 'nough." "I'm going with you then," you stated firmly; giving him a stern look. But Daryl immediately shook his head and scoffed. "Hell nah. I ain't takin' ya with me, darlin'. I ain't putting ya in danger." "Daryl, I-" You tried to stand your ground, but he cut you off immediately. "Nah, Y/N. I need ya to stay here. The group needs ya here, 'kay? If things go south 'n the Governor attacks..." You could see the trouble in his eyes. "Teddy needs his momma. You gotta protect our son."

You held his gaze for quite a while; thinking about Daryl's words. And the longer you thought this through, you realised that he was right.

So, you nodded. "O-Okay, yeah... I... I guess you're right." Daryl sensed your worry, of course and immediately cupped your face in his calloused palms; gently rubbing his thumbs over the apples of your cheeks. "I'll be back 'fore ya know it, sunshine. I love ya, you hear me?" You nodded; giving him a soft smile. "I love you, too. Be careful, yeah?" Daryl nodded and pressed his lips in a firm kiss against your forehead, before he let go of you and went on his way to find Merle and Michonne.

Your eyes followed him; worry still carved on your features.

Small feet on the grey asphalt getting closer to you, caused you to turn your head; seeing how Teddy ran up to you. Of course he had noticed by now that his father was leaving. "Momma? W-Where's daddy going?" Your son asked as he reached you; his sweet face overshadowed by confusion and fear. You knelt down to be on eye-level with him. "He'll be back soon, sweetheart. He has to look after your uncle Merle." The four-year-old frowned. "Uncle Merle is out there alone?" You nodded and gave him a reassuring smile. "He's going to find him."

You knew pretty well, that Teddy was always afraid to lose either you or Daryl, when one needed to put themself in danger. "Your daddy will be back before you know it, bud. Go practice some more, huh?" You said; tucking a curl of his long, chestnut brown hair out of his face and adjusting the red, loose bandana around his neck. "I bet daddy'll be excited for you to show him what you learned." The little boy smiled brightly and nodded; seemingly reassured. "Uh.Huh!" You returned his smile and pressed a kiss on his cheek. "Now go." Teddy nodded once more and stormed off; keeping on practising to use the slingshot.

It was silent for a moment, until Rick's voice urged to your ear once more. "You can take a break, y'know? I can take over." You immediately shook your head; denying Rick's offer. "No. I'll stay here and keep watch." The sheriff had no other choice than to accept your decision. He had learned in the past months that arguing with you in such situations wasn't an option. "A'right," Rick simply said and left you alone again.

It got late. There weren't many hours of sun left and Daryl wasn't back yet. At least Michonne was. Merle had let her go. You were kinda happy about that, but it didn't cease your worries to exist.

"They ain't back yet?" A familiar voice asked you, while you were on watch; hiding behind the wooden plates and steel wire. You turned your head to face Rick; rifle still on aim. "No..." The former sheriff nodded; worry and regret reflecting on his face. "I'll give 'em another hour. If they're not back then, I'm goin' after them." You swallowed hard and bit your lip. "Is Teddy alright?" Another nod from Rick. "Yeah, he's with Carl." "Good." You nodded and turned back around; watching the area closely through the gunsight.

You weren't sure how much more time passed, but by now the sun started to sink and the uneasy feeling within your chest to raise. You knew you couldn't stay out here for much longer, 'cause you wouldn't see a thing. Sighing deeply, you took a last check of the area, then shouldered your rifle and turned to leave. You already wanted to step through the steel door - internally planning to talk Rick into letting you go with him, when you suddenly collided with a firm body, which caused you to stumble backwards. Before you could kiss the ground, two arms reached for you and prevented your fall... Daryl's arms. You blinked; still a bit shocked and looked at the man in front of you. Then it clicked.

"Daryl!" You breathed out relieved and immediately threw your arms around him; "Thank god you're back." hugging him close. The archer didn't say a single word; just engulfed you tightly. Tighter than usual, as you noticed and your brain signalled you instantly that something must be wrong - and suddenly you had a very bad feeling...

You ran your hand through his steadily growing hair; trying to give him some comfort and reassurance - as far as you could, given the circumstance. All you wanted was to be his tower of strength.

"Daryl..." You quietly spoke up after a few endless moments; thumbs starting to caress the clothed skin on his back. "Sweetie, what's wrong? Didn't you find him?" Another few beats of silence passed, in which Daryl had to swallow hard and fight the tears - unbeknownst to you.

"M-Merle's dead," he choked out; causing a wave of shock to ripple through you. You retreated from the hug and cupped Daryl's cheeks; seeing the tears glistening in his blue-grey eyes. "What? H-How?" A heartbreaking sob left the usually so tough and collected man. "D-Dunno... Found him at the meeting place with the Governor. I think tha' asshole killed 'im 'n let... Let him turn." "You... You had to put him down?" He nodded; silent tears running down his cheeks. Your heart broke for him.

"Oh, Daryl..." You immediately wrapped him up in another hug; letting him bury his head in your shoulder and cry. Merle was how he was. You had cursed him more than once for the power he held over Daryl and the influence on his thinking and acting. The older Dixon may have been an asshole - but he was still blood. He was his brother. One of the most important people in Daryl's life. He loved him, without a doubt - and now he was gone.

"I'm so sorry, sweetie... So sorry..." You mumbled into his hair. Daryl just clung onto you and you let him; still holding his body close. "Do the others know?" He nodded against your neck. "A-And does... Does Teddy know?" Now the archer shook his head and slowly retreated from the hug; eyes slightly red from crying. "Nah. Didn't see him yet..." You stood on your tiptoes to press a soft kiss against his lips, before gently taking his hand in yours. "Come." Daryl gave your hand a squeeze and followed you wordlessly.

Teddy sat at one of the tables in the makeshift canteen; eating whatever Carol had cooked for dinner. Everyone you passed by on the way gave Daryl a compassionate look; knowing very well how much he just lost.

Once Teddy's eyes landed on you and his father, the boy was quick to jump to his feet; spoon clattering to the table.

"Daddy!" Teddy shouted and immediately ran over. Despite everything that happened in the past few hours, Daryl couldn't help himself but to smile. He may have lost his brother, but he also got a little boy which loved him to the moon and back. Just like he did.

The archer bend his knees; ready to catch Teddy in his arms - which he did with a grunt; picking him off the ground and hugging him close. "Hey, buddy." The four-year-old old wrapped his arms around his father's neck. Daryl squeezed Teddy's smaller body against his, affectionately ruffling his hair, before he let him down again gently, until both his feet touched the grey prison ground. "Did you find uncle Merle, daddy?" Daryl swallowed hard and proceeded to squat down to be at eye-level with his son. "Yeah, I... I did, buddy, but..." Daryl put both his hands on the boy's small shoulders; blue-grey eyes gazing into his equal ones. "Buddy, he... Your uncle Merle, I... I couldn't save 'im. He's gone, Teddy."

Teddy's young brain needed a moment to process Daryl's words and put one and one together. His face contorted; tears starting to gather in his eyes. The boy always got along so well with Merle. "Uncle Merle is... dead?" Daryl nodded sadly. "'M sorry, buddy."

Merle's death definitely left a scar behind on both, Daryl's and Teddy's heart and soul. It would need some time to heal, without a doubt. Unfortunately, there wasn't much time to grief, since the dangerous threat which was the Governor lurked already behind the next corner...

For another moment, Teddy tried to suppress the tears; tried to be a big boy and don't cry, but he quickly lost the battle. He was just a child after all. Throwing himself into his dad's arms again, he cried. Like you were Daryl's tower of strength earlier, was Daryl now Teddy's tower of strength. He kept holding the boy tightly; not letting go.

You watched the scenes unfold for a while, until you found yourself wiping a tear away as well and squatting down beside your family and joining the hug; wrapping both arms around your men.

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